In Richard Rex’s new book, The Making of Martin Luther, we are treated to an accessible opening study of the best scholarship on the claim (and myth) that Martin Luther nailed (or used wax, as a friend mentioned to me) his 95 theses to the door of the church in Wittenberg to establish a public disputation about them. Rex says, “Hold on, folks, that story symbolizes Luther’s significance but it almost certainly didn’t happen.”

You might well be asking, Does it even matter? I’ll get to that.

Here are some lines from Rex’s argument, which is hardly innovative in Luther scholarship:

On 31 October 1517, Halloween, the eve or vigil of the Feast of All Saints, as everyone knows, a young German friar purposefully made his way to the Castle Church in the Saxon university town of Wittenberg and nailed to the door one of the most famous protests of all time—the “Ninety-Five Theses.” Within weeks, Martin Luther and his bold challenge to the authority of the Catholic Church were the talk of Germany; before long, the talk of Europe. The Ninety-Five Theses themselves, ninety-five pointed and often witty barbs poked into the religious practice of the “indulgence,” were originally composed in Latin as the basis of a formal public disputation or debate in the university, but they were soon translated into German ‘ and put into print, the medium that enabled them to spread like wildfire.

Bizarrely, there is almost no reliable evidence for this wellknown story—though there were ninety-five theses. T i. There is no credible evidence that Luther actually went and nailed them to the church door that day, and every reason to believe that he did not. … Luther himself never refers to such an episode, and there is simply no mention of this story anywhere until after his death. It has all the hallmarks of myth.

Luther was indeed a rebel, or became one: a quiet conformist could never have achieved what he did. Yet he was a reluctant rebel, who was drawn from cover only gradually, as circumstances brought him to acknowledge the initially unthinkable idea that the teachings he was deriving from the scriptures were utterly incompatible with the teachings and practices of the church structure of which he had imagined himself to be an obedient servant. He showed unusual courage over the ensuing half a dozen years, during which he emerged as the charismatic leader of a mass movement in Germany and shattered, forever as it turned out, the medieval Christian unity of Europe.

Luther’s own recollections of the events surrounding the Ninety-Five Theses suggest a rather different story. When he was in his pomp, in the 1530s and 1540s, holding court in the former house of the Wittenberg Austin Friars, which his sovereign prince, the Elector Duke Frederick of Saxony, had given to him as his family residence once the brethren had all abandoned the communal life, a devoted circle of students and friends gathered daily at his table to catch his words of wisdom. … And there is nothing about church doors or hammers and nails.

Nor is there any indication that Luther sent out his theses in a search for instant publicity and notoriety. His letters were quietly dispatched to the episcopal chanceries, where, like so many unexpected and unaccustomed communications that reach busy offices, they sat for a while, as people fitfully wondered what, if anything, should be done about them.

The earliest appearance of the popular legend is found in the preface contributed by Philip Melanchthon to the second volume of Luther’s Complete Works, published in 1546. The second volume appeared after Luther’s death, and Melanchthon, his long-serving right-hand man and close friend, wrote a brief life of his mentor to form the preface. It is in this little biography that we first find the story:

Luther, burning with pious zeal, issued the propositions on indulgences (which appear in the first volume of his works). And on the eve of the Feast of All Saints 1517 he publicly posted them up on the church that is next door to the castle in Wittenberg.

The Ninety-Five Theses, then, were mailed to the Archbishop of Mainz, and perhaps also to one or two other bishops, on 31 October 1517, and proceeded to languish in bureaucratic obscurity for a month or so. … In January 1518, then, the theses became known across Germany in weeks. Within months, they were known across much of Europe.

Does it matter? I think not. As a non-specialist in this material the absence in Luther himself is telling, but those lines are Melanchthon are more than a little interesting. Could Melanchthon have been a bit confused on this story? Yes, I think that’s quite possible (and Rex explains why).

Tell the story or not tell the story, the facts are clear: Luther had a plan to oppose the Roman Catholic establishment on indulgences and other items; he wrote them out in a way that prepared him for public discussions; he accomplished that. The Door Story tells the deepest reality of Luther’s Reformation opening.

Were the Sages of the Bible to be found in schools? Were they male elites? Were they professionals alongside priests and prophets (“go to the next door down, sir, if you’d like to talk with a Sage — this is the door for Priests”)? Is the Sage a father passing on wisdom to sons and daughters?

These are the questions Tremper Longman asks and answers in his book The Fear of the Lord is Wisdom. They are also questions with very defined answers in the history of wisdom scholarship.

Where are Sages found today?

Were they in schools? The first clear evidence connecting Sages to schools is in Ben Sirach (51:23), but this means the Protestant Old Testament does not connect Sages to the school and, in fact, does not even mention schools. But there were schools in the Ancient Near East. When Proverbs 23:23 says “don’t sell wisdom and discipline and understanding” then we have something that sounds like schools in Israel. Is this a metaphor? Longman’s right if cautious: we don’t know if Israel had schools prior to Ben Sirach.

Were there professional sages? Longman writes,

The OT identifies people as wise (hakam). The question, though, is whether this label is simply highlighting a personal trait or whether it is a professional designation. Solomon, for example, is called wise, but he was not a sage. He was a king, a wise king (at least early in his reign) to be sure. But are there some people who are sages? That is, are there professional wise men and women?

The wise woman of Tekoa (2 Sam 13-14)? the wise woman of Abel Beth Maakah (2 Sam 20)? court counselors (2 Sam 15-16; 13:3)?

The use of “wise” or “sage” for some who weren’t might indicate a professional category (e.g., Eccles 12:9). The best evidence in Jeremiah 18:18: “Then they said, “Come, let us make plots against Jeremiah—for instruction shall not perish from the priest, nor counsel from the wise, nor the word from the prophet. Come, let us bring charges against him, and let us not heed any of his words.”

What was the social setting of the Sages of Israel? From the royal court circles or from another sector of society? Longman again,

In the final analysis, however, it appears that the origin, development, collection, and use of the proverb does not have a single setting but rather comes from all sectors of the society. This conclusion in particular pertains to the production and use of proverbs.

But then we have Prov 1:1; 25:1 and 31:1, each of which connects the wisdom of the Proverbs to royal courts and thus to high status in society. Others come from farmers (10:5; 11:1). What to say? We cannot be certain. Wisdom emerges in Israel from different settings.

Where is wisdom to be found? where there are those who fear God and who learn wisdom. It’s not a class of people but the character of persons.

By Jeremy Berg

What’s the most powerful force in the universe?

This question arose in the minivan this morning on the way to school with Peter, Isaak and Abby. We were praying the Lord’s Prayer, and I was explaining that “our daily bread” is simply what we need to make it through another day.

When I asked them what we need to survive, Peter answered: “Food, water, and guns to kill the bad guys.” Oh, oh! Teaching moment. This led to a familiar conversation we often have about dealing with “bad guys.” More on that conversation below.

After dropping them off, I was reading through Revelation for my morning devotions using Tom Wright’s Revelation For Everyone commentary.  (By the way, Wright’s For Everyone commentaries make great devotionals.)

Sadly, like many pastors today, I have tended to avoid Revelation. Popular end-times novels and quacky prophecy conferences and complicated charts, have filled the air and church-goers’ minds with so many misguided ideas that it seems a daunting task to know how to begin reading and teaching this book in a historically informed, genre-conscious and biblically responsible way.

The reality is, Revelation can be a very relevant and helpful book during these tumultuous times in our world. Not because I believe we’re in the end times and Revelation gives us clues as to exactly how the final events will go down. Revelation was originally written to address communities of believers in the first century who were facing (or about to face) very real and difficult socio-political upheavals and religious persecution.

John’s vision is meant to offer hope and an eternal perspective to people suffering hardship and unspeakable injustice. Its written into a politically charged situation where the powers of darkness (often veiled references to the blood thirsty tyrants ruling in Rome) are hunting down and killing Christians.

Who will stand up to these tyrants? Will the faithful Christian martyrs burning alive in the Roman amphitheater be vindicated? More importantly, if and when God does intercede in world events to confront the powers and vindicate his people, by what means will he act? Will he bring holy war, conquering the pagan hoards with the sword, returning evil with more evil, and wiping out the enemies of the cross?

Nope. Revelation gives us a cross-shaped warfare and a God who overcomes the power-hungry, blood thirsty tyrants by way of the cross and resurrection. The Lion of Judah has conquered, but when look up at the throne of this Savior and King, the vicious lion in John’s vision has been transfigured into a Lamb standing as if slain.

In his earthly ministry, Jesus taught that “All who live by sword-power will die by sword-power” and instead inaugurates a radically upside down, non-violent kingdom where his followers don’t return evil for evil, but instead turn the other cheek, love their enemies, bless rather than curse those who persecute them.

So, again, what’s the most powerful force in the universe?

Back in the mini-van, I explained again to my kids that while most people (and movie plots) try to kill and rid the world of bad guys, Jesus actually wants to change bad guys into good guys. While guns have the power to kill bad guys, only love moves us toward an enemy with the compassion and hope for transformation. A gun or nuclear warhead can destroy our enemy, but only love has the potential to transform an enemy into a friend. “So, kids”, I concluded my lecture as we pulled into the school parking lot, “What’s the most powerful weapon in the world?” “Love!” they answered in unison like good little PKs (and then my 6 year old slugged the 4 year old and crying ensued).

I stumbled upon an illustration of such disarming love awhile back in one of those dangerous and evil Harry Potter books many Evangelicals still boycott. The first book in the series took me by surprise and brought me to tears as it concluded with a beautiful message about the power of love to overcome evil. Before the book begins, Harry’s mother had died protecting Harry from the enemy when he was a baby; the orphaned Harry survived the ordeal but was marked forever with a vicious scar on his forehead.

Now, later in life, Harry Potter discovered he possesses a power that enabled him to resist and overcome the evil attack of Voldemort residing in the body of Quirrell. “Quirrell couldn’t touch his bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain.” Where did such power come from? Harry asked Dumbledore, “Why couldn’t Quirrell touch me?” Here’s his powerful Jesus-like explanation:

“Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing that Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn’t realize that love as powerful as your mother’s for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign … to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection for ever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reasons. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good.”

Jesus, too, was marked by “something so good.” It’s the disarming power of self-sacrificing, Calvary-shaped love. It’s the way the Lamb makes war in the hostile powers of this fallen world, and its the same cruciform Way the church is called to imitate as we navigate the perennial evils and injustices that still mark our world.

And I can’t resist another Harry Potter parallel  (because I love picking on the anti-Potter Christian crowd). The other gift Harry possessed that enabled him to be victorious in his battle was a certain cloak — the Invisibility Cloak. Harry stood his ground and withstood the enemy because he, like Christians, “put on” the cloak, the full armor, his Father left for him.

Back to Revelation. I was reading in chapter 7 about the great multitude of those who have come through the great ordeal. Unlike Potter, they were not spared. Many died bearing faithful witness to the Christ as they forgave their torturers and prayed for their executors just like Jesus.

But, we ask: Where was God when they needed Him? Why does He turn his back on innocent sufferers? Doesn’t He care? Was He busy running other galaxies and didn’t happen to hear our cries for help? These are the questions we ask and accusations we often make of God when bad things happen to good people.

But John’s vision encourages those who are suffering or who have watched loved ones suffer, by giving us a different picture of God, and a different picture of the sufferers.

^{Revelation 7:9-17}

⁹ After this I looked, and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and before the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. ¹⁰ And they cried out in a loud voice:

“Salvation belongs to our God,
who sits on the throne,
and to the Lamb.”…

¹³ Then one of the elders asked me, “These in white robes—who are they, and where did they come from?”And he said, “These are they who have come out of the great tribulation; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.¹⁵ 

Therefore,“they are before the throne of God  and serve him day and night in his temple; and he who sits on the throne will shelter them with his presence.
¹⁶ ‘Never again will they hunger; never again will they thirst. The sun will not beat down on them,’ nor any scorching heat.¹⁷ For the Lamb at the center of the throne
    will be their shepherd; ‘he will lead them to springs of living water.’
    ‘And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.’”

The sufferers are not shaking their fists at God for not rescuing them from death. Instead, they are singing a victory song before the throne of the Lamb. And God? Where is He in this drama? Far off and aloof? Cold and indifferent? I close with Tom Wright’s commentary on the scene:

“And, in the final anticipation of the New Jerusalem (21.4), God himself ‘will wipe away every tear from their eyes’. There is an intimacy about that promise which speaks volumes for the whole vision of God throughout the book. Yes, God is rightly angry with all those who deface his beautiful creation and make the lives of their fellow humans miserable and wretched. But the reason he is angry is because, at his very heart, he is so full of mercy that his most characteristic action is to come down from the throne and, in person, wipe away every tear from every eye. Learning to think of this God when we hear the word ‘God’, rather than instantly thinking of a faceless heavenly bureaucrat or a violent celestial bully, is one of the most important ways in which we are to wake up from the nightmare [of suffering and injustice in our world] and embrace the reality of God’s true day [not yet fully arrived but already breaking into the present]” (76).

Dear Christian: To have been loved so deeply by Christ, who gave his own life in order to save ours, will give us some protection for ever. Something of this Higher Love has been transferred to us; by the power of the indwelling Spirit, it is in our very skin! Harry was marked forever with a scar to remind him of his mother’s self-sacrificial love. Christians are marked forever by baptism into Christ’s death, an enduring reminder of his scars for us!

So, as we face our own world of uncertainties, suffering and injustices, are we cloaked with the power of God’s love? As nations rise up against nations, are we prepared to wage war with the weapons of radical enemy-love and cross-power? Do you really believe love is the most powerful weapon of all?

If anything is said of women in the patristic era it is often that they were non-influential, non-writing, non-speaking, and the like. In other words, if you want to learn about women in the church the best place is not the patristics.

In their new book, Christian Women in the Patristic World: Their Influence, Authority, and Legacy in the Second through the Fifth Centuries, Lynn Cohick and Amy Brown Hughes challenge the common view of women in this era.

In fact, their study unveils some perceptible shifts in what we can find:

Our study reveals men and women thinking together about the nature of the Christian church and its teachings. The women considered in our book captured the imagination of average Christian pilgrims, learned male authors, and government officials. Indeed, some of the women we discuss exercised authority in the imperial government, wrote influential prose and poetry, and traveled on pilgrimage and established basilicas and martyr shrines and relics. This book celebrates their legacy.

Here is an important observation and it is one that needs to haunt how we talk about the patristics. Was it just the Creeds and the Councils and the theologians fighting it out?

For example, this historical period saw the establishment of creeds and doctrines as church councils, made up of male clerics and scholars, defined Christian doctrine. But this is only part of what happened—and if this half is told as though it is the entire story, a false impression is created that women were ancillary to the development of the church’s doctrines and practices. As our study shows, however, women made numerous contributions to theological discussions and religious practices.

There is a both-and approach in Cohick and Hughes, a both critical and a charitable reading of the patristics. See the good and name the bad.

Our approach stands over against both those works of modern scholarship that simply lament and dismiss the church fathers as hopelessly misogynistic, as well as those that take a naive, pious perspective on the evidence, for both approaches fail to deal analytically with the sources. Within these early Christian writings, we find disparaging comments about women or the female sex as well as active engagement and genuine conversation with learned women. We do not read the church fathers’ statements about women as direct windows into church doctrine and practice; rather, we nuance these texts by considering the ways women themselves shaped their lives and their social worlds.

At the heart of their project is a candor about the realities of women in the patristic period:

Nevertheless, women often faced an uphill march in pursuing their goals. We examine the many obstacles (ideological, cultural, theological, and political) that prevented women, in general and within Christianity, from living their lives to the same full extent that was available for men of comparable rank and station.

And a claim:

The evidence shows that these women carried theological influence, as we will see with Gregory of Nyssa’s remembrance of his sister Macrina as an authority on christological imitation and on the nature of the resurrection (chap. 7) and with Melania the Elder’s involvement with the Origenist controversy, a wide-ranging debate on the reception of some of the more speculative teachings of Origen, including the nature of the resurrected body and the preexistence of souls (see chap. 8).

Feminism has its voice in this book, and here’s why:

Feminists have shone the spotlight on history and literature, demonstrating how the oppression of women is deeply entrenched, systemically permeating political structures, domestic life, and religious devotion. Of course, Christianity is not immune to the charge of denigrating women and in fact has often been the appropriated force behind the subjugation of women and even the instigator of atrocities against various groups of women. Because of this oppressive norm, feminists read texts with a hermeneutics of suspicion, assuming that the author is reflecting a patriarchal bias. Yet even in the most oppressive of societies and situations, we have examples of women living their lives with creative energy and mobility, taking opportunities as they arise, owning agency and demonstrating religious conviction in ways that surprise modern sensibilities, and contributing to the variegated story of early Christianity.

To find the women and their place in the patristic era requires patience and skill:

We do not have nearly enough of these accounts, but what we do find is that Christian women often had to navigate the tricky congress between their femaleness and the faith, tradition, and Scriptures that they held so dear.

Cohick and Hughes advocate for “responsible remembrance.” One of my favorite themes in this book is this very idea:

In this book we will be looking at women of various regions, backgrounds, situations, and temperaments from the earliest centuries of Christianity and remembering the many ways they assumed authority, exercised power, and shaped not only their legacy but also the legacy of Christianity. This remembrance is self-aware. Perhaps controversially, this remembrance is not a neutral reading; rather, this reading is functionally an “admission of advocacy,” a speaking for the participation of the other, those who have been relegated and silenced.10 For our sake and for the sake of others, we need to commit to advocacy and practice what Justo Gonzalez calls “responsible remembrance.”

Hence, Cohick and Hughes are advocates, not simply historians. They want to know what we can find out about women and what they were doing, and responsible remembrance is not naive and it must be critical and name what needs to be named:

Part of the role for advocates for early Christian women is to bear the responsibility to critique the patriarchal norm and the vitriolic language used by some of the church fathers, such as Tertullian. And the responsibility extends to considering positive views of women found in these texts as well.

As a result, we might be put off by how these biblical women are portrayed by the church fathers. Our reading should be one of advocacy for a more inclusive gender framework in reading the biblical text; yet our reading of these ancient interpreters should also be marked by charity. We must take into account that a writer cannot excuse himself from his context and the information available at the time. But this charity does not mean we excuse the author’s silencing or oppression of women because “that’s just how it was back then.”

But women played a far more important role than is accepted and this comes through when one sees that “theology” is more than writing long philosophical treatises. Theology is, as Kavin Rowe has written, a way of life. How so?

A fundamental presupposition of this project is that women were instrumental in the construction of Christian identity and theology in the first five centuries of Christian history.

Fundamental to our approach is the supposition that theology in the early church was a dynamic and organic project that included a myriad of voices and approaches. It is a significant error to limit constructive theological work to councils and specific kinds of texts because, as will become clear especially in regard to the central discussions of the Trinity and Christology in early Christianity, core work on these subjects was happening in imaginative rewritings of Plato, the construction of the Christian historical narrative, letters between friends, dialogues in the middle of the night, the establishing of monastic communities in homes and in the desert, pilgrimages to the Holy Land, the reception of the martyr tradition, and the ascetic negotiation with the body.

What Cohick and Hughes advocate then is for a “prismatic paradigm” to theology!

In this prismatic paradigm for interpreting early Christian theology, women’s theologizing is fundamental to the development of Christian thought and should not be relegated to the fringe or regarded as a concession prize at best.

By Jeremy Berg

I [Jeremy] just listened to a great discussion about God’s glory, Reformed theology and the Nashville Statement on theTheology on Mission podcast with David Fitch and Geoff Holsclaw. The best takeaway line was “God’s glory is not just about God, nor about us, but God with us.” The conversation reminded me of a piece I wrote on the “God-centered vs. Man-centered” debate some time ago. Enjoy!

—————

“The glory of God is man fully alive.”

-St. Irenaeus

Why do so many Christians, notably conservative Evangelicals and Reformed brothers and sisters, often put the glorification of God at odds with human attempts at excellence? Does striving for greatness always lead to human pride and undercut the magnification of God? Does a strong focus on the needs and concerns of human beings always result in a lack of focus on God as the center of all? Must one think less of himself in order to think more of God? Does Scripture lift God up by bringing human beings down?

In the background of all of these questions lies a larger, more foundational debate over our understanding of the nature of God, the nature of Man and their relationship.  I am referring to the misguided line of thinking I hear so often, especially in more Reformed circles, that people either have a man-centered or God-Centered theology, view of the gospel, approach to Christian faith, etc.

When talking about different churches or pastors, I have had such people ask, “Does that church preach a man-centered or God-centered gospel?” Or, “Oh, I don’t like that pastor; they have a man-centered theology.” What is behind this?

I believe this distinction and concern is valid and helpful to a degree, but often gets pushed too far, leading to a confused, false either-or view of God, human beings and the gospel.

You can also find a more head-on critique from Ben Witherington in a post entitled “For God So Loved Himself: Is God a Narcissist?” Witherington’s concern is that God is sometimes

“presented as a self-centered, self-referential being, whose basic motivation for what he does, including his motivation for saving people, is so that he might receive more glory. Even the sending of the Son and the work of the Spirit is said to be but a means to an end of God’s self-adulation and praise.”

This is a significant issue and deserves careful reflection and a more nuanced understanding of the relationship of God and his human image-bearers.

In this essay I will unpack some loose thoughts on both the validity of the man-centered vs. God-centered concern and then offer some healthy push back on the fuzzy, over-extension of this line of reasoning.  I see a distortion of both the character of God and what it means for human beings to glorify God.

SOME REASONS BEHIND THIS CONCERN

Many fears and factors stand behind this debate. Four worthy of mention include (1) scriptural mandate, (2) prosperity and self-help teachings, (3) strong views of human depravity, and (4) a particular, popular understanding of the supremacy of God.

1. Scripture. Scripture clearly demands that we deny ourselves in order to embrace God, that we must decrease so Christ can increase, that the world is in ruin because of humans have taken God off the throne and replaced him with other idols—self-lordship being the most popular (cf. Rom 1:23). Thus, there is an appropriate concern to heed such foundational scriptural warnings to keep God at the center of our affections and on the throne of our lives.

2. Prosperity & Self-Help Teachings. The widespread influence and propagation of the prosperity gospel has indeed distorted the Christian faith, turning it into a human-centered quest for personal health, wealth, power and prosperity. This teaching is all about “me” and God is little more than a cosmic vending machine waiting on our next request. Similarly, others focus too heavily upon self-help moralism that God takes a backseat to self-improvement and a deistic moralism. We must guard against these “man-centered” teachings; but in doing so, many end up going too far in the other direction. More on that below.

3. Views of Human Depravity. Looming in the background of this man-centered vs. God-centered line of reasoning is the great Reformation concern that some will give human beings too much credit when it comes to progress and growth in the faith. The Pelagian vs. Augustine debate over the extent of human depravity also influences this debate. We want to give God all the glory and all the credit for saving faith. In clinging hard and fast to the doctrine of “Total Depravity,” many develop such a low view of humanity that we are nothing more than worms, “snow covered dung” as Luther put it, and therefore incapable of doing anything of any value—especially in relationship to faithful living.

Must a strong view of human depravity always lead to such a low view of human capability? I certainly do not think so. But this low view of humanity exercises huge influence over those adamantly opposed to any “man-centered” thinking.

4. A Particular View of ‘The Supremacy of God’. Perhaps there is no greater influence popularizing the strong either-or thinking of the “man-centered vs. God-centered” question than John Piper’s ministry which so reverently emphasizes “the supremacy of God/Christ” in all things. Piper, who himself is heavily indebted to John Calvin and Jonathan Edwards in this respect, has a massive following and readership who are the primary propagators of this anti-man-centered rhetoric I am addressing. Let me state clearly right now that I respect and appreciate John Piper and his Desiring God ministry. He constantly challenges me and my theology and keeps my nose buried in the text of Scripture.

Yet, at the end of the day, I simply disagree with Piper on some significant theological issues and emphases. We need not go into those issues here since my current purpose is merely to point out that Piper’s teaching often lead his less astute and less nuanced followers toward a lopsided view of God’s relationship with human beings that overplays God’s supremacy in a way that undervalues God’s human image-bearers.

IS GOD AN IDOLATER?

Here’s a big question under consideration: Is God himself man-centered or God-centered? One significant conviction of John Piper and his followers is that God himself is the model of perfect, God-centered affections. As Piper puts it:

God is central and supreme in His own affections. There are no rivals for the supremacy of God’s glory in His own heart. God is not an idolater. He does not disobey the first and great commandment. With all His heart and soul and strength and mind He delights in the glory of His manifold perfections. The most passionate heart for God in all the universe is God’s heart.”

This bold claim has not gone uncontested. Is God really God-centered? Is this necessarily an either-or question? Many would argue that what makes God so Holy and perfect — so unlike human beings — is precisely that he is the only being in the universe who is not subject to self-centeredness.  He is the only One completely free from any hint of self-absorption.

The God revealed in the person of Jesus Christ demonstrated that God’s true nature is completely other-oriented, capable of unlimited self-giving love toward others. God’s very nature is agape love and therefore God cannot help but be an ever flowing spring of self-sacrificial, other-oriented love. While finite human beings seek and even need to be loved in return for their love extended, God stands perfectly self-sufficient in the inter-trinitarian community of love so that He is absolutely free from any “need” for others to return His love.

How about the gospel we preach? I often hear people inquiring about the legitimacy of a particular pastor or church by asking, ‘Do they preach a man-centered gospel?” or “Is that a God-centered or man-centered church?” The question “Is the gospel man-centered or God-centered?” needs a lot of clarification and definition.

Those who argue passionately for a God-centered gospel usually are primarily concerned that God is given the glory and credit for the human rescue operation the New Testament calls the gospel. Moreover, they would also emphasize that the central result of salvation would be that the redeemed person now has God as their supreme treasure at the center of their affections to use Piper’s language.  I agree with all of this. But…

I still believe the gospel, which is the good news regarding God’s rescue plan to redeem God’s wayward image-bearers and bring them back into relationship with Himself, is thoroughly man-centered as well. How can it not be? The gospel is all about the rescue of man—yes, for the glory of God, but still with human beings as the target of this saving grace. The gospel is the good news that God so loved the world, i.e., God’s heart was so intently focused upon the well-being of his beloved creatures, that he came for their rescue.

To illustrate, if a father watches his infant daughter fall into the swimming pool and then comes to her rescue, would the news headline the following day be wrestling with the question of whether this rescue story is either “child-centered” or “Father-centered”? It’s a silly question.

The good news headline would center around both the child as the object of rescue and the Father as the hero who gets the glory. Both share center stage in this rescue story though playing very different roles. The forced either-or language just confuses the situation. I’m equally confused when people use this language in regards to the gospel or theology.

Is it not reasonable to conclude from Scripture and the revelation of God’s character in the person of Jesus Christ that God is incredibly man-centered in his affections to a degree that puts all human love and affection, so marred by selfishness and pride, to shame and leads one to fall to their knees in the worship and magnification of such a Holy, other-focused Loving God?  I agree with Piper that “God is not an idolater”, yet I don’t believe its because he keeps the first and greatest commandment as Piper insists.

I believe there is a confusion of categories here on Piper’s part, and the Creator is simply not subject to the first commandment to love Himself. Why?  Human beings must love God above all (and avoid idolatry) because they are finite and incapable of loving from within themselves. God is infinite and self-sufficient in his own being, and therefore does not need to find life in a greater source outside himself—thus, God could never be an idolator in the sense that humans can. That option just doesn’t exist for the one, true God.

But I’ve gone far enough here to show that there is reason to think that the “man-centered” vs. “God-centered” logic is misguided and the discussion is in need of more nuance.

HOW IS GOD GLORIFIED?

Another central question under consideration in this debate is: How is God glorified by human beings? Our chief end is to glorify God with our lives.  Our chief temptation, from Genesis 3 onward, is to “exchange the glory of the immortal God” for lesser glory—especially glorification of man (cf. Rom. 1:23). I agree with this whole-heartedly. But how exactly is God most glorified by his human image-bearers?

I believe John Piper again offers some solid help in getting us started but then downplays or even distorts the other side of the coin.  (Note: I am using Piper as a representative of a much larger contingency of Reformed thinkers who stand largely in the shadow Jonathan Edwards and his theological kin.) Piper rightly emphasizes that “God is most glorified by us when we are most satisfied in Him.” Our satisfaction in God entails making God our heart’s greatest treasure and Christ our supreme Lord.  So far, so good.

Yet, when it comes to the particulars of how one glorifies God—how one demonstrates that Christ is Lord, shows God to be our supreme treasure—we start to slip into unhelpful either-or rhetoric again.  My conviction is that God is most glorified in us when we, God’s image-bearers in the world, are living most in tune with God’s purposes for our lives, utilizing our God-given gifts and passions, flourishing in our God-directed pursuits, and accomplishing great things in the name of God and for the expansion of the Kingdom of God. 

In other words, human beings glorify God not by curling up in a helpless, hopelessly depraved blob that is relieved that God is great enough for the both of us. No, the Creator is magnified when his creatures are fully functioning as He originally intended them to. The computer programmer is most pleased when the program works, the coach is most thrilled when the team plays well and wins, the teacher is most honored when the students learn and God is most glorified when human beings flourish in their God-given potential in a proper relationship with Him.

My point is that human attempts at greatness is not in opposition to glorifying God. In fact, the two are thoroughly intertwined. Here’s an example of this misguided thinking in practice, chosen quite randomly and with no personal bone to pick with the individual involved. Morris Chapman, former President of Southern Baptist Convention, once made the following challenge to the SBC regarding the future mission of the church:

“Going beyond the work of God’s Spirit in salvation, I believe the time has come to stop talking of “what made the SBC great” or “what will make the SBC great again.” All these questions are in direct competition with the glory of the Lord Jesus Christ. Our chief aim, or first and greatest concern, our most passionate commitment must be to ask this question “What will give Him the glory?”

Chapman no doubt wants the sole focus and driving motivation for the direction the SBC to be on glorifying God.  Yet, he seems to view the desires of current leadership to be “great” as dangerous and, shockingly, “in direct competition with the glory of the Lord Jesus Christ.”

Really? Is he suggesting “all” talk of being a great church, making great efforts to accomplish great things, to have great kingdom-advancing impact and greater witness in the world for the future “are in direct competition” with the task of glorifying Christ?

I may be misunderstanding Chapman here, but his choice of words here seems to suggest a line of reasoning that would place the question “What will give HIM the glory?” in direct competition with questions about how the SBC can be great.

I believe they are two sides of the same coin. What will give God most glory? My answer: Be a great church! That is, strive with all our might, cooperating with the power of the Spirit and in alignment with God’s will, to be a great church with an even greater witness than in the past.

Human greatness is only truly great when done in cooperation with God for the glory of God. But human mediocrity done in the name of God and for the glory of God is still only mediocre—even if God redeems it, multiplies it and uses it for his greater purposes.

But God is most glorified by us when we are striving for Kingdom greatness in Him, through Him and for Him.

SUMMARY & CONCLUSION

So, where does this leave us on the tired old debate over so-called “man-centered” theology vs. “God-centered” theology? We must set the record straight on the main and plain things. And on the deeper complexities we must seek greater clarity and nuance in our rhetoric.

I have attempted to expose the false either-or in much of the talk of man-centered vs. God-centered gospels, theology, approaches to faith, etc.  I have raised the following points:

First, the focus of the gospel, or good news concerning God’s rescue plan for humanity, is centered upon human beings as the object of God’s love and affections, and centered on God in Christ as the merciful and loving rescuer who is worthy of our worship, praise and obedience. So, both God and man share center stage in the drama of redemption, though they play very different roles!

Second, God himself is the only self-sufficient being in the universe who is absolutely free from self-centeredness. God’s character revealed in Jesus Christ is purely, extravagantly other-focused. God is love—and the source of this infinitely flowing fountain of out-pouring agape is the inter-trinitarian affection shared between the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Because God is infinite and completely self-sufficient, he can love endlessly, unconditionally, self-sacrificially for all eternity without “need” of reciprocation. Human beings are the recipients of this never ceasing outpouring of God’s love. This too is the supremacy of God on display.

Third, the chief purpose of human beings is to glorify God. God is most glorified when human beings are most satisfied in Him. Yet, our satisfaction in God should lead us to live lives of Kingdom-centered greatness as we utilize our unique gifts and passions given to us by God for the purposes of furthering the Kingdom of God in the world.

Thus, human greatness (in right relationship to God) is not in opposition to the glorification of God, but very much a part of it. In other words, God is most glorified when his creatures live great lives in Him, through Him and for Him.  But great lives bring greater glory to God than sub-par or wasted lives.

Fourth, connected to #3, holding to extremely high views of human depravity, or “worm theology”, does not necessarily result in the magnification of God as is often believed. It can actually take away from the glory of God insofar as His handiwork is shown to be damaged goods unable to function as God designed them. On the other hand, many find a much more positive view of human beings in Scripture and argue that the gospel itself is the greatest proof that human beings are of great value and highly esteemed in God’s eyes.

“What are mere mortals that you should think about them, human beings that you should care for them?  Yet you made them only a little lower than God and crowned them with glory and honor” (Psalm 8).

Apart from divine grace we are without hope but not without value. Our value is derived from the One in whose image we are made. God is in the business of redeeming, restoring and empowering his image-bearers so they can more accurately reflect and magnify the greatness of the Creator.

In summary, we have questioned the legitimacy of the either-or in this debate. We have challenged the notion that God is at the center of His own affections. We have highlighted the way one’s view of human depravity will determine how one views the relationship between human greatness and God’s glory. We have suggested that these two are not in competition, but rather they go hand in hand.  We have argued that God is most glorified when His human image-bearers are flourishing in proper relationship with their God.

With these initial thoughts on the discussion table, let me just close with a reminder that this has been an unpolished, ongoing thought experiment. May we continue to seek the truth in these matters in a spirit of grace, love and humility, always taking the attitude of the apostle Paul who at the end of the day could only cry out in awe

“Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable his judgments,and his paths beyond tracing out! “Who has known the mind of the Lord? Or who has been his counselor?” “Who has ever given to God, that God should repay him? For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be the glory forever! Amen” (Romans 11:33-36).

Soli Deo Gloria!

A few years ago, when my middle daughter was three, we were discussing her favorite preschool job: leading the lunchtime prayer. I said that maybe she could be a pastor, like our own pastor Todd, when she grew up.

Her eyes lit up and she proclaimed: “Yes! I will be pastor Todd! And I will live in his house! And I will be Olivia’s daddy!”

I got a good chuckle out of that, as did pastor Todd when he heard the story.

But the truth is, as the reality sets in that she can’t actually be pastor Todd, my daughter isn’t likely to see many women as pastors—women who can serve as her role models. While numbers are hard to pin down, probably only 10% of senior pastors are women — which means that even denominations that ordain women don’t see anything close to equal gender representation in leadership.

In more personal and anecdotal terms, even as an egalitarian of several years, this summer is the first time I’ve heard women preach and been in a church with a woman pastor.

I’m thirty-six.

Although I’ve been an egalitarian for years now, my journey has been admittedly slow. My husband has always supported the full participation of women in the church, and I gradually came to agree with him. By the time I agreed, we were already committed to a church that didn’t ordain women, and neither of us were willing to leave a church we otherwise loved.

Over time, however, the restrictions on women, while minimal at our church, chafed more and more. So when we moved to a new state, we hoped for a church in our denomination that ordained women.

We did find one. But it was a tiny plant, and our priest’s theoretical support of ordaining women never came to a practical test. As much as I appreciated his support of women, I wanted to actually see women preaching and serving.

So when we packed our boxes yet again this summer, we were thrilled to discover a church not just theoretically affirming of women in ministry but actually committed to giving women those opportunities. One of our priests is a woman, as is our deacon, and women routinely preach.

During our first service at the church, a woman preached—the first time I had ever heard a woman preach. I wept. Not because the sermon was convicting or earth-shattering—although it was a good sermon—but because everyone treated a woman preaching as perfectly normal.

In the three months since then, I have heard multiple women preach. Every time, I’m struck by how these sermons are both utterly normal and utterly extraordinary: normal because these sermons are sermons, like hundreds of others I have heard. But extraordinary because these women are using their gifts and insights in ways that I have never witnessed in the church.

I see two specific benefits from gender diversity in my current church: representation and connection.

My three year-old clearly had some misunderstanding about what it meant to be a pastor. But in another sense she wasn’t far off: we tend to use what we see as a guide to what is possible. That’s a big part of why representation is so important to me. I want my daughters to see women serving, preaching, and leading in the church. They’re still in elementary school so I have no idea whether God will call them to formal ministry, but I want them to grow up knowing that they have a place at every level of the church.

At this point in my own life, however, seeing women in ministry isn’t going to change my mind. But I’m finding myself deeply appreciating the variety of viewpoints and angles in the sermons. I’ve known for a long time that a diversity of voices benefit everyone—and now I’m experiencing that as I connect in new ways with the sermons.

I’ve fortunately never been in a church where the preachers leaned heavily on male-coded imagery (hunting, football, the military, etc.) in their sermons. But even the most sensitive of male preachers simply doesn’t have the same life experience as a woman, the same experience as me.

So when my female pastor recently preached on Mary and Martha, for the first time I heard this story taught by someone who has actually felt the pressure that Martha did, as a hostess and a woman, to prepare food and extend hospitality. Her sympathetic reading of Martha eased some of the guilt I typically feel when I hear sermons on this passage, and her challenges to let go of anxiety felt more applicable to my life since they came from someone who has felt the same gendered pressures.

Hearing this sermon from a woman—who even in the twenty-first century can feel sympathy for first-century Martha’s role as hostess to over a dozen guests—helped me to better understand Jesus’ words to Martha. This is the benefit of diversity in the pulpit: different life experiences bring fresh perspectives to Scripture and new insights to listeners, inspiring them to connect with Scripture and with God in new ways.

Gender is, of course, one of many ways we can bring that vital diversity into churches. The evangelical church in America needs to work harder to represent God’s entire creation. Because those of us learning in the pews or wondering where we might serve in the church benefit from seeing ourselves and our experiences reflected in those who serve, lead, and preach.

The claim by many today is that wisdom emerges from creation theology, not redemptive theology. Or, better yet, it emerges not from the reality of being redeemed but from the reality of being created. In other words, it is secular. Here is Tremper Longman’s summary of this set of convictions (in his new and important book) made especially popular by Walter Zimmerli and Walter Brueggemann:

Wisdom thinks resolutely within the framework of a theology of creation (Zimmerli’s statement).

In the wisdom literature there is an absence of the patriarchs, promises, covenants, law, cult and rituals. Why? Because wisdom is not rooted in redemption but in creation. Longman:

In its most extreme form, some scholars, particularly of the previous generation, have argued that God himself plays a secondary role in wisdom literature and that it emphasizes humanity and not the God of Israel. Some even go so far as to suggest that wisdom is secular in orientation, at least as compared to the rest of the OT.

So Tremper quotes Brueggemann:

I believe it is much more plausible to suggest that in the wisdom tradition of Israel we have a visible expression of secularization as it has been characterized in the current discussions. Wisdom teaching is profoundly secular in that it presents life and history as a human enterprise.

Tremper’s not so sanguine about this:

The wisdom literature of Israel and the wisdom literature of the surrounding cultures, particularly Egypt and Mesopotamia, share many features and much specific content, leading to the idea that wisdom literature is universalistic in its appeal (and thus based on creation) rather than particular to Israel and its unique redemptive history.

After all, if Israel shares these ideas with other non-Yahwistic cultures, wisdom must be based on creation, available to all, rather than redemptive history unique to Israel.

What to say? He examines creation in wisdom literature: Poverbs 3:19-20; 8:22-31; Job 38:4-11; Ecclesiastes 3:1, 11; 7:29; Psalms 8, 19, 24, 104, 136; Song 2:8-17 (Edenic). Thus, “We have examined five of our main sources for wisdom (Proverbs, Job, Ecclesiastes, Psalms, and Song of Songs) and have seen that each, to various degrees and in various ways, has exhibited an interest in creation. …  But are the sages really so confident that their advice based on their understanding of how the world works will really lead to successful results defined as a flourishing life?” (136).

But…

Thus, when we think of wisdom’s connection to creation theology, it is wrong-minded to think only of Gen. 1-2. To the extent that wisdom is related to creation theology, it does not return us to Eden but recognizes that we live in a troubled, disordered world.

The relevant point for our discussion is that the connection between wisdom and creation and order is not as simple as some would make it out to be. It is not simply a matter of if one is wise, then one knows how the creation works, since God created the world ordered. The wise understand that creation order has been disturbed, and therefore it does not always work as one might expect.

Wisdom, however, does not naively assert that wisdom will always work. To act wisely does not automatically bring reward. … we observed that the sages were well aware that the world was broken. However, the world’s brokenness does not bring chaos, so there is still great benefit to the “way of wisdom.”

The world, though broken, is not shattered beyond recognition, and God’s human creatures. though deeply flawed, are not insane. Wisdom remains accessible to all, at least to a certain point. That certain point, though, falls short of theological wisdom. The unbeliever does not, in the words of O’Donovan, have to be ‘ignorant about the structure of the family, the virtue of mercy, the vice of cowardice, or the duty of justice,” but by definition the unbeliever remains ignorant of what is the most fundamental and essential truth of the cosmos— that God created it and that everything is dependent on him. While one can live with wisdom on a practical and perhaps even on an ethical level, without fear of the Lord there is, in the final analysis, no foundation to that wisdom.

Longman then devotes a chp to examining wisdom in ancient Near Eastern cultures, observing important connections and similarities, but he concludes with what makes biblical wisdom distinct and divergent from ANE wisdom:

Let’s begin with the obvious. We have seen that the central theme of wisdom repeated over and over again with slight variations and taught in a multitude of ways is “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” This is the fundamental lesson of Proverbs, Job, Ecclesiastes, the wisdom psalms, and Deuteronomy.

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. Whether beginning is taken temporally or foundationally, the clear point is that unless one fears the Lord, there is no wisdom. And it is the Lord, Yahweh, Israel’s deity, not the “common God,” who is to be feared.

There is, accordingly, no way that the Israelite sages who produced Proverbs, Job, and Ecclesiastes would think that ancient Near Eastern wisdom teachers were wise in the most important sense of the word. After all, the latter are ignorant of the most important and basic truth of the cosmos.