theo #8 - September-October 2022

BABEL ACADEMY

THE BUSINESS OF KEEPING THE SAINTS IN THE DARK

The Western Church suffers from various levels of Bible suppression, from Bible ignorance, through Bible avoidance, right up to conscious Bible evasion. Even when the Book is open our minds remain closed.

Let there be light! — the first recorded “spoken” words of God. Curiously, even this creative decree was a deed whose fruit required an appraisal. God judged the light and separated it from the darkness.

As the cardinal act within a newborn heavens and earth, this ruling endures as the heart of every subsequent event, every word, enterprise, and reckoning in the Bible. The darkness itself was not appraised, since darkness is only the absence of light. But neither was the darkness eradicated. Rather, the light was named Day and the darkness was named Night.

Naming establishes not only relationship but also office. In relation to the earth, Day and Night

are proper nouns for the presence and absence of light. Like the Urim and Thummim of Aaron, they possess binary roles—like “on” and “off”—in a single process.

As with the names Father and Son, these names describe a relationship. Neither makes sense without the other. The Father is only a father because he has a son, and the Son is only a son because he has a father. However, unlike the Father and the Son, Day and Night are mutually exclusive. Every day is a ministry of hiding and revealing. So, on Day 1, Day and Night were not objects in themselves but axes of perception. Indeed, the language of perception is the grammar of Genesis 1.

MICHAEL BULL

It describes how things look from Mankind’s point of view. The sun and moon are identical in size to the human eye for their service to the social order, but they differ greatly in size for their purposes in the physical order.

But on Day 1, without the created light of the sun, moon, and stars, the only light was the light of God. His works were hidden and then revealed once again with the return of this light on Day 2.

Each of the first three days of Creation brought a new rite of separation. Each division formed an additional domain within the united whole, like rooms in a house. Each new realm added a function, like organs in a body.

The word for “separate” is not seen again until the description of the veil (Exodus 26:33), and then not again until the rule that sacrificial birds should be torn open but not completely divided (Leviticus 1:17; 5:8).

Two kinds of cuts

The next use of the word (in Leviticus 10:10) shows that God divides not only between good things that have different purposes (the holy and the common), but also between good things and corrupted things (the clean and the unclean).

We tend to get these two kinds of cuts confused, but God used the good divisions as a method of

quarantine to stop bad things from spreading. The darkness itself is not bad, but it is where bad things are able to multiply undetected (John 1:4-5; 3:19-21).

The distinction between holy and common is a division of office, like that between heaven and earth, night and day, land and sea, man and woman, flesh and blood, bread and wine—and that between priesthood and kingdom or, as we know it, church and state.

The law given to Adam in Eden

barred from the Garden was a necessary division between what was good and what was corrupt.

Thus, a good duality was built into every aspect of Creation, but sin introduced a bad duality—the true and the false. Counterfeit and camouflage were invented in the Garden of Eden.

A descent into darkness

was this kind of distinction. Trusting God with the humility of a child (the priestly tree of life) would lead to exaltation by God as a mature ruler (the tree of kingly wisdom).

Like evening and morning, submission and dominion are distinct but indivisible. Both are good, and neither of them makes sense without the other. Adam’s sin was stealing what was “holy” (set apart as God’s) before he was qualified to “own it” as a holy representative of God. His being

Genesis 1 describes the creation of the physical order, the World. Genesis 2 recaps the pattern of Genesis 1 as it describes the creation of the social order for the Land. Genesis 3 describes the intended founding of an ethical order rooted in worship in the Garden. It was here, in the “heart” of the Creation, that sin entered into the world. The failure of Adam to rightly divide between light and darkness in the ethical realm transformed darkness from a mere absence of light (a riddle to consider in order to gain wisdom, or a restful slumber to be succumbed to for the purpose of renewal and procreation) into a refuge for corruption. Ethical darkness became an inability to discern the truth despite the presence of light. This subsequently defiled the social order (Genesis 4), and ultimately destroyed the physical order (in the Great Flood, which is alluded to in Genesis 5).

How did the sin of one man end up corrupting the entire world?

How did the sin of one man corrupt the entire world?

It tore down the good boundaries fixed by God and created inordinate unions in their place. Vows deemed holy—spiritual nakedness before God in worship and physical nakedness before one’s wife in marriage—were rendered unclean by Man.

It also caused separations that brought chaos. Complementary things were now in opposition. Men commodified women. Human and animal consumers joined the ranks of the consumed. Ties of blood became acts of bloodshed. The priesthood was corrupted and dissolved by intermarriage with rebellious kings. And finally, with these curse-restraining offerings having been abandoned, God reunited the waters that He had separated in order to destroy

“all flesh.” The formed and filled world was deformed and emptied. Except for selected representatives of the old world, the Word of God had returned to Him void—all because Adam knowingly considered evil good, chose darkness over light, and put bitter for sweet (Isaiah 5:20).

A stairway of light

Everything is God’s, since He made it. But in a special sense, like the amenities set apart for use by royalty and officials as a sign of honor or a reward for their service, that which is holy is His personal possession. In contrast, that which is common is Man’s, like those things made for the use of ordinary citizens. But the ultimate goal of Christ’s ministry of redemption as a Man

is to make everything truly holy. For Israel, this meant that the inscription upon the headpiece of the High Priest would one day be inscribed even on the bells of the horses, and the ordinary pots of Jerusalem would be as precious as the bowls before the altar (Zechariah 14:20-21).

The circumcision was a similar division of office. It created Israel by setting Abraham’s household apart for “royal” use, while all of the other nations remained “common” (Deuteronomy 7:6).

It was not a sin to be a Gentile, any more than darkness is more sinful than light. The roles of Jew and Gentile comprised a binary relationship, a temporary “cut” that was built to last only until Jesus fulfilled and completed Israel’s ministry of sacrifices.

Neither of these offices made sense without the other. This is why, under the earthly ministry of Christ, the obsolescence of one effectively abolished the other. Jews and Gentiles no longer exist in God’s economy (Ephesians 2:11-22; Hebrews 8:13).

Circumcision gave Israel a unique social office, but the Law of Moses later conferred its duties. It also brought new holy/common demarcations: Levi was set apart from the other tribes relating to civil function, and the priestly vows temporarily set qualified Levites apart for Sanctuary duty.

Each new level in this holiness hierarchy—a sacred ziggurat, a stairway to heaven—was a step up from the previous one. Israel’s distinction between the clean and unclean animals also became a more elaborate hierarchy. A refined list of the clean now discriminated between the common (those which could be eaten) and the holy (those which were not only acceptable to Israelites, but also to God).

In this way, Israel’s priesthood served as a human shield against God’s judgment upon Israel, offering sacrifices of blood and praise. And Israel itself served the same purpose for the seventy nations of the world.

God could temporarily overlook the sins of those who lived in darkness by judging those who

had been given more light (Acts 17:30). Good divisions of office held off a cataclysmic judgment between good and evil in the same way that an all-male clergy is called to protect the Church. Yet none of these distinctions were good or evil in themselves. Being circumcised did not save a man, or make him good or wise. Being a priest did not make a man less culpable for sin, but rather more. Whether a priest or a commoner committed murder or adultery, it was the same sin. Evil was committed under the moon or the sun, by Gentiles or by Jews, was the same evil. The difference was in the degree of light given by God, because light brings accountability.

Jesus forgave His murderers, but those Jews who doubled down and murdered the Church were destroyed in AD70. But why? The commoners who were led astray could be forgiven, but the highhanded sin of their rulers, after being enlightened by Christ, bore a greater penalty (Numbers 15:27-31; Hebrews 6:4-8).

The Law, with its ceremonial object lessons, was a window for the light that was coming into the world. The greater the light, the greater was the “exposure” to God’s judgment (James 3:1).

Discerning the light

Yet that Law of light is a “dark saying,” a riddle upon which all

men must meditate in order to discern the character of God. The Truth Himself makes darkness His covering (Psalm 18:11), and much of His Law frustrates the wicked because it is impenetrable without the light of the Spirit.

Since darkness appeared as light, offering death disguised as life, the Father in heaven calls us to develop wisdom that we might look upon the heart of things as He does. To achieve this, we must first perceive the veiled goodness of His character in our trials (Romans 8:28). Joseph had to learn to perceive the love of God before he was wise enough to discern the change in the hearts of his brothers (Genesis 50:20).

Israel’s lunar festivals signified this partial light, a landscape of stars and shadows that promised a coming dawn. That Mosaic veil was not the fear of death but an Abrahamic slumber, with Israel as the firstborn Son withdrawing to the mountainside to wrestle with God until daybreak in preparation for His conquest (Genesis 32:24; Deuteronomy 1:6-8; Luke 6:12-13).

Creation is still under a veil, groaning for a day of vindication when words spoken in secret and deeds done in darkness will be under the spotlight and broadcast from the housetops. But the daylight began in Jesus’ ministry as an unfolding, unstoppable

revelation. In Him, the mystery of God is revealed (Colossians 2:2), and the veil is removed from our eyes (2 Corinthians 3:13-14).

He was hidden in the Temple but found like a long-forgotten scroll. He was hidden in the waters but delivered like Jonah. He was hidden in the earth but rose from death like a planted seed. He was hidden in a cloud but revealed again from heaven in a sign that the old order was finished forever (Matthew 26:64; 2 Thessalonians 1:7; Revelation 1:7). In this way, the entire World was judged in one Man (John 12:31).

In every instance, the light of the world made Himself absent that He might be present in a more effective way. His burgeoning acts of advent continually shine in greater and greater realms and will continue to do so until the ultimate dawn—the reunion of heaven and earth (2 Peter 1:19).

Those who never saw Jesus were more blessed than those who did because they discerned Him with different eyes. As with the Law, that perception is possible only by the Word and Spirit of God, as a lamp shining in a dark place.

Obscuring the light

The evil one has a two-fold tactic for the expulsion of this light, a double-barreled strategy that has remained consistent through the ages. If he cannot snuff out the witness of the Word altogether,

he replaces it with a counterfeit.

For Adam, this counterfeit was the testimony of the serpent in Eden, the world’s first false prophet. For Israel, it was “mixing” the Canaanite gods into their worship. For the Jews after the exile, it was the Oral Law fabricated by the Pharisees that eventually eclipsed the Law and the Prophets.

The Church of Rome was guilty of a similar sleight-of-hand, replacing the words of God with

Bible avoidance, right up to conscious Bible evasion.

Only slightly renovated, these are old lies proffered as something new, and the rivers of life from the brightest centers of biblical thought and ministerial training run with Wormwood once again. The biblical stairway has been replaced with a dark tower, a haunt for scavengers and creatures of the night, a doppelgänger of what God intended.

On Level 1 of this Babel Academy, the local church congregation itself is an unwitting counterfeit, desperate fools misled by ravenous wolves who bait them with isolated Bible texts doled out like fortune cookies. Their cargo cult Jesus never says anything that might cause anyone to turn back from following Him.

the traditions of men. Like the apostles, God sent the Reformers to tear away the veil, and a harlot much like first-century Jerusalem was exposed to the world.

But after 500 years, another contrived night has fallen like a veil over our eyes. The Scriptures cannot be removed, but they can be misinterpreted, disparaged, and ignored. Even when the Book is open, our minds remain closed. The Western Church suffers from various levels of Bible suppression, from Bible ignorance, through

On Level 2, the Bible is practically obsolete since, despite blatant self-contradictions, God speaks directly, authoritatively, and inerrantly to every believer all the time. But rather than imparting an understanding of the ways of God, its purported dreams, visions, and prophecies expose a profound ignorance of His Word. The so-called “words of knowledge” betray a tragic lack of discernment. Although the apostles had all been steeped in the Scriptures from childhood (even King Solomon was

The biblical stairway has been replaced with a dark tower.

required to copy out the Torah by hand), the apostolic gifts and “anointing” are a commodity coveted like religious relics. These serve as a shortcut to maturity, avoiding all those dull years of disciplined study and meditation. The tongues and testimonies of men eclipse Word and sacrament.

On Level 3, the teachers claim to believe the Bible, but they speak in a foreign tongue. Their words are authentic, calling, catalyst, community, dialogue, educate, emerge, empower, enrich, incarnational, leadership, meditative, mindful, missional, paradigm, positive, posture, proactive, program, reconnect, resource, sentness, space, strategy, workshop… Disconnected from the imaginative world of the Bible,

their muses are erudite novels, self-improvement books, management tools, and Middle Age mystics. Their sacraments are fair trade coffee, boutique beers, and a pretentious selection of teas.

On Level 4, the fundamentalists believe the Bible but rarely comprehend it. Reduced to a manual of lessons for living, literal supplants literate. Fear of heresy has become fear of the text, which is only a tool to support what is already “known,” so there is no growth in discernment. This stale offering is Grandma’s home cooking, cooked personally by Grandma, but she died many decades ago.

On Level 5, conservative theologians peddle application as if it were interpretation. There is real food here, but it is wheeled

out of a clinic on laboratory trolleys and served cold in indigestible slabs by linguistic technicians. Their method is that of an autopsy—analysis in carefully isolated chunks. Trained out of any literary sensibility, not one of these doctors really knows how to connect them bones, and thus nobody really gets to hear the Word of the Lord.

On Level 6, the palace rooftop, is the Babel Academy’s inner sanctum and boardroom, the self-styled nerve center of biblical knowledge and exclusive society for progress in biblical understanding. However, answers to the deep questions are sought in the Church Fathers, the Reformers, a Barth, a Bultmann, or even the Inklings. It is as if the pure essence of the Bible were

distilled from its raw, primitive state and preserved in a more palatable state for less awkward consumption in tomes of jargonfilled, abstracted “theology,” or marvelous Christian fiction. Although they know God, they dishonor His Word. They are futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts have been darkened. Claiming to be wise, they became fanboys, and exchanged the Bible’s glory for crusts and dregs, inedible leftovers from some really big eaters.

The members of this tightlyguarded domain maintain a veneer of competence via carefully constructed forests of theological treatises, journals, dissertations, and occasional papers, in which they focus on minutiae so refined that they know everything about nothing. While the common man has been led to believe that a deep understanding of the Bible is beyond him, theological academia has become a small-time racket for uninspired intellectuals and their extraneous fixation with extrabiblical trivia. This “industry” is a covering of fig leaves, a fruitless tree, a Man behind a curtain where the secret things of God should be. These elites are entirely unknown on Level 1, ignored by Level 2, irrelevant to Level 3, despised by

Level 4, and incessantly flatter those on Level 5 with empty promises of insight and mastery.

The inhabitants of the tower’s every story are malnourished, and the world outside it starves.

If any brave soul does make it into the inner sanctum, he discovers an empty room. There is no food at all, just the dry, telltale signs of countless food fights over the centuries. Such inconvenient visitors are sworn to secrecy as a condition of release,

perceive the heart of the matter through the inky clouds of camouflage and confusion. The poor in spirit are the rich. The priestly are the true rulers, and the tyrants are the servants of sin. Those who are naked before heaven are robed in righteousness on the earth, while the bright stars of the earth are wretched, naked, and blind.

pledging to keep the dream alive. They are turned away disappointed and disillusioned.

For now, we dwell in a world where nothing is as it seems. Utopian lies exalt themselves against the knowledge of God while the Word of God is despised and condemned, and His faithful servants are ridiculed and vilified. Lawmakers use their power to destroy rather than protect. Evil is good and good is evil. And only those whose eyes are opened by God are enabled to

The good news is that we still have the answer at our fingertips. We might be surviving on crumbs, but our God offers us meat and wine. He desires that we become wise judges who divide light from darkness, exterior façade from interior motives, joints from marrow, spirit from flesh. We must discern the hearts not only of ourselves and other individuals, but also divine the unseen animus of families and tribes, nations and empires, ideologies and the daily news cycle spin.

In a world where infanticide is “health care,” promiscuity is “love,” tyranny is “equality,” Islam is “peace,” and righteousness is “bigotry,” true theology cracks the riddles of God in order to thwart the lies of the devil. Ours is the ministry of “revelation.” n

“It is the spirit in man, the breath of the Almighty, that makes him understand. It is not the old who are wise, nor the aged who understand what is right.” (Job 32:8-9)

The good news is that we still have the answer at our fingertips.

MINISTRY

REBUILDING THE RUINS CHURCH PLANTING IN THE COALFIELDS

And was Jerusalem builded here among these dark satanic mills? — William Blake

Six years ago I planted a church in a small town named Madison, in the heart of the coalfields of West Virginia.

JOSH ROBINSON

every corner. At the center of the town was the city hall with a jail, complete with a hanging tree. Yes, that’s right. At the center of our town there was a tree of death where criminals were executed as a public spectacle.

One advantage of establishing a new work is the freedom to choose and use old-time practices in fresh, edifying, and inspiring ways.

The town was founded 1906, and local folklore gives us divergent stories about how it got its name. Some claim that it was named in honor of the fourth United States President, James Madison. Others tell us that it was named for a Charleston lawyer named James Madison Laidley, or a local pioneer and coal operator named William Madison Peyton.

In the hills and hollers surrounding the town, there were portals leading crews of miners beneath the earth where tons of coal could be excavated.

In the old downtown area, where our church now resides, there were bustling businesses on

Things are different in Madison now. Since the early 2000s, the coal industry has struggled under an increasing burden of regulations. There are abandoned coal plants littering the county, like the ruins of an ancient forgotten city.

As a result, many of the local businesses have permanently closed their doors, leaving residents with the prospect of relocating elsewhere just to make ends meet. The loss of jobs has also resulted in an opioid crisis that has touched every family I know.

On top of the socio-economic

problems, there is also a spiritual darkness troubling the people of our small town.

Boone County, West Virginia, currently has around 21,000 residents. According to The Association of Religious Data Archives (ARDA), only 5,759 of those residents belong to a religious body. That’s only 27% of our total county population, which means that 73% of the population has no religious affiliation whatsoever.

The reality is even more bleak than the picture portrayed by the statistics. The ARDA doesn’t just survey Christian religious bodies; it surveys religious bodies as a whole. Included in

the number of 5,759 residents are 308 residents who belong to Islam (which is a false religion), 987 who belong to the Church of Christ (which is a cult), 78 who belong to the PCUSA, and 784 who belong to the United Methodist Church (both of which are compromised denominations that have sinfully

rejected God’s standard for human sexuality and gender).

That means the actual number is somewhere around 3,602 residents who belong to actual Christian denominations, while 2,157 residents belong to false churches, false religions, and cults.

If this number is accurate, it means that 83% of the county’s population is walking in darkness and needs the light of Christ.

Planting a new tree

In 2016, with the affirmation of the elders of my local church, I answered God’s call to ministry and began the task of planting a

The opioid crisis has touched every family I know.

church in the tough soil of Boone County.

I knew right from the beginning that while we wanted to reinforce the churches that are doing good ministry in our town, we also wanted to plant a church that was different in many ways.

We wanted a congregation that recites the ancient Christian creeds together and means them, one that uses a traditional liturgy to order its services, is optimistic in its outlook concerning the victory of the Gospel in history, and is Reformed in its theology.

Music is an important aspect of this strategy. We wanted to not only sing Amazing Grace like the Freewill Baptists down the street, but we also wanted to sing the earth-shattering Psalm 2, and the soul-stirring A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.

We wanted to work together to properly train our children in the Word of God and to give them all the benefits of a Classical Christian education. These include the long-neglected skills of grammar, logic, and rhetoric, as well as a biblical lens with which to comprehensively understand the world.

A particular desire of mine was to do expository preaching, that is, to preach and teach right through entire books of the Bible rather than simply covering certain topics. This would

include teaching our people how to understand the Bible for themselves beyond a basic level, giving special attention to biblical symbolism, literary design, and the less obvious riches that point to Christ.

So, myself, my family, and a small group of people began meeting in homes. We gathered every week to sing songs together, to pray for one another's needs, to open the Bible and walk through its books

school that I hadn’t seen in nearly a decade were coming to see what was going on.

We started baptizing new believers in horse troughs and in the local rivers. New Haven Church had actually become a new haven in our town where people could step out of the darkness and into the light.

We continued to outgrow the various venues in which we were meeting. But in early 2021, the seventy-member-strong church was able to purchase a historic building in the old downtown area of Madison.

Built in 1908, it was constructed just two years after Madison was founded in 1906. Our building was there when the hanging tree stood at the center of the town. And there, in the ruins of the old coal town, we planted some permanent roots.

chapter-by-chapter, verse-byverse, with a focus on answering questions and teaching one another. Then, we’d have a feast together, enjoying a fellowship deeper than the usual smalltalk.

Within a few months, we outgrew the homes we were meeting in. We went from about 10 people to about 30 people. Now that we had some critical mass, our people invited everyone they knew. Families we had never met before were joining us. Old friends from high

In the ruins we marry, make love, and raise children. In the ruins we restore the walls. In the ruins we craft wine, and build barns and sanctuaries. In the ruins we write, and we film, and we read, and we sing, and we laugh and play. In the ruins we raise our hands together and bless the Lord, for the earth is His and all who dwell therein.

Each day, by His grace, we are less ruined, and the town of Madison is, too. Each day, our walls grow taller, and so do our

A new tree has been planted in the town center—a tree of life.

hopes, our loves, our plans, and our sons and daughters.

A new tree has been planted at the town’s center, and it is not a tree of death, but a tree of life. Our fruits aren’t just for the healing of Madison, but also for the nations. And, we labor until the town of Madison receives a new name—the City of God.

A return to old ways

Centuries-old practices were discontinued in many Christian denominations in recent decades, in an attempt to be relevant. Like our building, the thoughtful restoration of some of these in our worship has become a distinctive feature of our church.

The purpose in this was not nostalgia but discipleship—the edifying or “building up” of the saints. These things not only knit us together as a body, but also unite us to God as a body. One of these is the use of liturgy, the practice of having much of the service written down so that people can participate not only by singing but also by speaking.

The word liturgy tends to conjure up the grandiose “bells-andsmells” rites of Roman or Eastern churches, where the congregants do little more than observe what the priests do on their behalf. But the fact is that modern “concert-style” worship has

become very similar, treating the congregants as an audience comprised of individuals seeking a personal experience of God. The other fear is that liturgy turns the service into a mere checklist of words to recite without any thought. The weekly repetition means we know it so well that we go into automatic mode and simply tick the boxes and go away unchanged.

But again, the truth is that modern worship, despite not being written down, ends up using much the same words and prayers in the same pattern each week anyway, just without the spiritual depth and breadth that was deliberately built into the historic creeds and confessions.

Rightly understood, liturgy is the intentional ordering of our worship according to the pattern found in the Bible. That inspired structure changes us because it trains us in the ways of God.

We begin with a formal call to gather before God in worship. This renews our answer to the call of Christ in the Gospel, and reminds us that none of us is alone in our faith. Then we confess our sins together and we are assured of His forgiveness.

We recite the historic creeds of our faith, raise our hands together to sing praises to God, and say “Amen” together. Along with the responsive reading of the Scriptures, these participative practices help to foster a spiritual

unity. This builds a sense of belonging and a solid identity in a fractured culture where people feel lost, isolated, and overlooked. Another distinctive is the practice of the Lord’s Supper, not occasionally, but weekly. Since it is a fresh reminder of the centrality of Christ’s death and resurrection, it is considered to be as important as the sermon and the singing. On top of that, it is not a time of mournful selfexamination, since that has been done already in the confession.

Communion for us is a communal celebration near the end of the worship, after which the saints are recommissioned to go out and minister in the world.

If you visit any of our several Bible studies and fellowships throughout the week, you will notice something else that you may not be used to—an emphasis on singing the Psalms. We do not believe that churches may only sing the Psalms. But we certainly believe they should be present—even dominant—in our worship. Because of the emphasis on song in Scripture, we consider an ability to sing the Psalms as a congregation to be just about as important as our ability to read.

The Psalms were preserved for us so that they might be sung. And unlike many modern worship songs, and even many hymns, they give us the words we need to

express to God what we feel when we face hard things in life.

In the Psalms, we learn to express not just joy and praise and thanksgiving to God, but also sorrow, discouragement, fear, anger, and doubt.

The Psalms encourage us to bring everything—not just our good days—to Christ, and to always turn our focus to Him regardless of the situation.

These songs, inspired by the

own church and for the Church in general.

We don’t grow discouraged and despondent as we watch the news and see what’s happening in our nation. We don’t anticipate a point in time at which the world will have become so evil that only a remnant will be saved. Instead, we believe that the preaching of the Gospel in the world is powerful and effective, and that the service and suffering of the saints will gradually bring all nations to Christ.

Jesus, our enthroned king, is ruling all nations right now, slowly but surely transforming the world, and when He returns He will finish the job in a world where the Gospel has been entirely vindicated. Having put all His enemies under His feet, He will destroy the last enemy, which is death.

Spirit, prepare us for a life of service by acquainting us with grief from a young age. They teach us empathy for our suffering brethren by putting their prayers upon our lips.

And by singing God’s words back to Him, we are not only edifying and encouraging each other, but also glorifying God, which is the chief end of our worship.

Perhaps our most striking distinction among the loss and heartache around us is our optimism for the future—for our

This hopefulness, far from encouraging evangelical laziness, spurs us on to share the good news of the Gospel and to continue whittling away in faith at the world around us, knowing that our work is not in vain.

Rebuilding the ruins

To those reading this who might consider planting a church whose worship incorporates these powerful elements, but are concerned that it might be difficult; and to those who might

Take questions seriously. Make time to answer them.

consider making changes in your existing church to move in this direction, let me encourage you: it can be done. But as with everything, a quality build or rebuild takes time.

A church is a living house, like a tree. For it to provide spiritual food and shelter, the planter must prepare the soil, plant, water, tend, uproot the weeds, and prune any dead growth.

Our church didn’t sprout up overnight. It has taken us over half a decade to get where we currently are, and we still have a long way to go. People need time to get used to new things, even when they are old things.

The important thing is that you start somewhere. Start with conversations about what it is that you want to introduce. Make time to teach whatever it is, take people’s questions seriously, and make time to answer them.

With (hopefully) everyone on board, or at least aware of why these renovations are taking place, introduce things slowly— layer by layer, brick by brick.

We have made the explanation of these practices a part of quarterly classes for potential new members, with the expectation that the questions our regular members once had will be the same questions our potential members will also have.

God has blessed this practice in our ministry, and I suspect He’ll do the same for yours, too.

For pastors in Western countries, and especially the USA, let me also say this: contrary to what many church planting networks and denominations tell you, the reality is that you don’t need fog machines, great lighting, a praise band, or tons of programs to build your church. And your people don’t need them either. They just need the old ways.

I can’t tell you how many church planters and pastors I’ve spoken to over the past half decade who have asked me, “How have you all established and built a thriving, young church down there, in Madison of all places?”

They expect the answer to be some theological or missional innovation. To their surprise, I tell them it is something very ancient—a strategy found in the events of Nehemiah 4.

As the Sanballats, the Samaritan armies, and the Ammonites mock, jeer, talk trash, and plot against you day and night, set your minds to the work of rebuilding the walls and gates of Christendom where you are.

With a sword in one hand and a trowel in the other, sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to the Lord. Our God will fight for us, and He will build His Church. Your responsibility is to simply be full of faithful courage. n

Who were the “sons of God” mentioned in Genesis 6? If we get the answer to this question wrong, we will fail to follow the plot of the Bible.

BIBLE TOOLS

NOW ARE WE THE SONS OF GOD

DID WOMEN MARRY ANGELS?

The early chapters of Genesis are so light on detail that the reader is forced to fill in the gaps. In so many instances we are told what happened but not why. Why did God create the man and the woman in the way that He did? Why was the Tree of Knowledge prohibited? Why did God reject Cain’s offering? And, of course, why did the opening act of God’s Word have to be so frustratingly concise?

Since we know that one of these questions was faced by Adam himself, this literary tactic was a deliberate provocation on God’s part. He left things out because He wants us to read between the lines. God gave Adam limited information so he would be forced to develop some wisdom. The exam came when the devil took the opportunity to fill in the gaps with a mixture of truth and lies that slandered the character of God. His “interpretation” changed the meaning of the story.

Adam and Eve learned wisdom the hard way, but they did learn it. And the mercy shown to them by God in His priestly, atoning sacrifice for their sin filled those gaps with the truth: God was not the tyrant that the serpent had made Him out to be, but a loving father who wanted them to be mature in their understanding. If they had waited in patient

faith, the second tree and its royal gifts would have been freely given to them, as promised. Perhaps the most interesting question that arises due to this literary economy concerns the identity of the Sons of God in Genesis 6. The scant details call for wisdom as we search for an answer, but some have “filled the gaps” with the wrong thing.

And in this case, it distorts the meaning of two of the most important recurring themes in

1:13-14). Many of these claim to be authoritative, but in nearly all cases they read like third-rate fan fiction. Those who accept these counterfeits as “gospel” reveal how little they understand of the real thing. They fail to look beyond the outward literary trappings to discern the heart. The same could be said of many modern Christian academics. And when such people create an illusion of expertise because they insist that some uninspired ancient texts are the key to answering crucial questions, we ought to be suspicious.

the Bible—intermarriage and the human office of “Son of God.”

When misinterpreted as the stuff of myth and legend—an intrusion by fallen angels who took human wives—it becomes a fantastic supernatural mystery. But is this really a mystery, or are we simply failing to spot the natural clues and follow the plot?

Misreading Scripture

Jews and Christians both have a history of filling the gaps in the sacred texts with fables (Titus

It’s one thing to point out that Jesus as a boy could not have made clay birds come to life (as in the Gospel of Thomas) since turning water to wine was His first miracle, and He never did a miracle for Himself. It’s quite another when a famous scholar marshals an impressive quantity of apparent “evidence” to tell us that demons married women, sired giants, and became the spiritual rulers of the nations. This gap-filling is far more subtle because its fabulous case is made by introducing an interpretive lens to the Word of God that changes the meaning of the story. So, where God has omitted details in order to make us think, what method did He intend for us to use to interpret the events?

Since God works in history in a

Jews and Christians have filled the gaps in the text with fables.

series of cycles, all of which have a similar shape, each sequence is, in some way, a retelling of other sequences. This means that we can compare Scripture with Scripture in integrated episodes instead of merely firing isolated Bible verses at each other.

Such a comparison of patterns helps us to solve the “mystery” of the identity of the Sons of God in Genesis 6. Firstly, the event is part of a sequence of temptation, sin, and judgment. Secondly, this sequence is a retelling of earlier events, and the stories all follow the same configuration.

Man was tempted to seize power in Genesis 3, and God cut off his access to the Tree of Life. Now all Mankind was tempted to unite to establish a godless kingdom, and God cut their history and human lifespans short. The “Garden” sin of Adam led to the “Land” sin of Cain and the “World” sin of men.

The tune that was played in the Garden on a pipe was now being played by an orchestra, and this “Man-and-Mankind,” “one-andmany” connection explains Genesis 6. The wrong kind of seed was planted, and, despite God’s continued acts of mercy to mitigate the spread of human thorns, the ultimate harvest was a world filled with bloodied flesh.

The missing details were never actually missing from the text. We were supposed to be reading

cumulatively, in the same way that we watch episodes of a longrunning TV show. If we fell for the ever-popular Amazing Stories version of Genesis 6, we were simply not following the plot.

What is the overall message of this ripple effect that led to the Great Flood? Personal sin, if not restrained, becomes family sin, and ultimately cultural sin, at which point God judges a people.

Land of the giants

This method also explains who the Nephilim were. The word means “fallen ones,” and their mention corresponds to the fall of Adam. These mighty warriors, who were in the land before the intermarriage, were not the sons of supernatural beings, but natural man at the apex of his powers. They had accepted the serpent’s offer to be “gods” and were now his spiritual seed.

This race was cut off in the Flood (there is no mention of them in Genesis 10), so the various races of giants mentioned later in the Bible were not their descendants. Given the right conditions, giants arise naturally in the same way that grasshoppers morph into swarming, ravenous locusts.

“The land, through which we have gone to spy it out, is a land that devours its inhabitants, and all the people that we saw in it are of great height. And there we saw the

Nephilim (the sons of Anak, who come from the Nephilim), and we seemed to ourselves like grasshoppers, and so we seemed to them.” (Numbers 13:32-33)

Moses omits the Nephilim in Deuteronomy 1:28. The cowards’ “slanderous” report had been embellished. It was designed by the serpent to bring judgment upon Israel, and it succeeded.

The Philistines also had some king-size warriors, and the height of Israel’s first king, Saul, was another sign that natural man will always fail in the end.

Daughters of Adamkind

So, what was the actual sin in Genesis 6? Taking human fruit that delighted the eyes.

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. God’s words, like seeds, first made the earth fertile, and then made it pregnant with abundant life. The two trees in Eden pictured the same pattern. Adam was to humbly depend upon God (submission to heaven) before God would trust him with the food (personal future) and offspring (cultural future) that He had promised to him.

The murder of priestly Abel by Cain, the firstborn and kingly heir, repeated Adam’s refusal of priestly humility. Cain’s exile split humanity into two family trees—

the priestly line of Seth, and the kingly line of Lamech.

While the priestly line still offered sacrifices to mitigate the curses upon the ground and the womb, and waited upon God for the promised fruit, the cursed Cainite line abandoned sacrifice and evaded the curses altogether. Polygamy evaded the barrenness of the womb, and (most likely) disobediently eating meat before God blessed it (after the Flood) evaded God’s curse upon Cain’s ground. Taking multiple wives was the reason that “men began to multiply on the face of the earth” (Genesis 6:1 KJV).

The sons of Lamech (the first polygamist and actual king) also enjoyed all the cultural (kingly) gifts of wisdom in metalwork, music, and multiplying livestock. Such advances meant that while Lamech established a powerful dynasty by worldly means, the Sethites became second-class citizens. Growing impatient for the fulfillment of God’s promises, the intermarriage was a means of “marrying up” to obtain and enjoy all of those wonderful gifts. Their initial faithfulness would have protected that godless culture from judgment for a time, co-opting the blessing of God until the priestly line was entirely assimilated and lost— along with the sacrifices that had held back judgment from Adam,

Cain, and the entire world.

If this scenario appears to be too speculative, corroboration comes from later events.

The Noahic order united in error at Babel, so God split humanity into two new trees: priestly Israelites would now mediate for the kingly Gentiles. “Kingly” intermarriage was forbidden without prior “priestly” conversion. That is why the marriages of Joseph, Moses, Boaz, and Solomon to faithful

God even split Israel into two trees: Judah as the keeper of the Temple, and Israel as the fruitful majority of the tribes. This story of temptation, sin, and judgment is told over and over again in the history of Man’s redemption. There were various attempts to reunite the two kingdoms, even through royal intermarriage. But that would have corrupted and ended the Davidic line. Only the destruction brought by the exile could unite the people again.

Gentiles could be blessed by God. Likewise, the barrenness suffered by Israel made them poor and weak unless they turned to God in faith. Yet the kingly nations that surrounded them enjoyed abundance and wisdom. Notice how the Israelites depended on the Philistines (gifted with both brains and brawn, as sons of the Egyptians) for ironwork.

Israel was eventually given its own kings, but when they behaved like Gentiles (including taking many unconverted wives),

When Ezra and Nehemiah condemned the pagan marriages of the exiles, the greater context was still the intermarriage in Genesis 6. And when Daniel predicted that the red clay of the Edomite Herods would not stick to the iron of the Roman state, despite attempts to intermarry (Daniel 2:43), we can understand why Jesus said that their “eating and drinking” (fruit of the land) and “marrying and giving in marriage” (fruit of the womb) were sins akin to those of the rebels who brought about the destruction of the World. That is why the end of Jerusalem would come “like a flood” (Daniel 9:26; Matthew 24:37-39).

Instead of waiting patiently for God to supply sons and feasts, as Abraham had done, the rulers of Jerusalem resorted to making covenants with the Gentiles, as Abraham refused to do. This

The Son’s once-for-all sacrifice has been made; it needs no protection.

included alliances ratified by the give-and-take practice of marrying and giving in marriage.

When Jesus came, He submitted to heaven and was given all power over the earth as a priestking (like Melchizedek, Hebrews 7:17). The wall (comprised of circumcision and the Law of Moses) between the Jew and Gentile “trees” was legally removed at the tree of the cross (Ephesians 2:13-16), and actually removed in the destruction of Jerusalem and its sacrifices.

This is why Paul said that it is no

longer necessary to annul a marriage, as it was under the Law, if a spouse is not a believer. The spouse and children do not need to be put away as they were after the exile (1 Corinthians 7:12-16). The Son of God’s once-for-all sacrifice has been made; it needs no protection.

This reflects the shift from the priestly barriers that mitigated ceremonial contagion to boldly touching the unclean and healing them by the power of Jesus’ kingdom. God’s work has gone on the offensive with Gospel seed and a tree that heals all nations.

What is a Son of God?

If the Sons of God in Genesis 6 were the sons of Seth, how are we to understand other references to the Sons of God in Scripture?

Since Genesis 6 does not mention the origin of the Sons of God, the primary proof text for the angelic theory seems to be the first chapter of Job.

Those who insist that the Sons of God who presented themselves before the Lord, due to the presence of Satan among them, were angelic members of God’s council, are still not paying attention to the plot of the Bible.

Job is described as “blameless,” which explains why God sets him apart for Satan’s consideration. If we paid more attention to Leviticus, we would realize that the Sons of God here are other priest-kings, and Job is a “son of the herd” (Leviticus 1). He is chosen from among his peers because he is “spotless.” God then puts this son on the altar.

So Job is not suffering because God is not good, or because Job is secretly bad. Jesus was likewise chosen as a spotless lamb from among the brethren who came for baptism, and was immediately cast into the wilderness to suffer.

Genesis 36:33 records that Job (Jobab) was the successor of Balaam (Bela), and both were descendants of Esau. So it is

likely that Job was, in some way, not only a priest-king who made sacrifices for his people, but was now also bearing their national penalty after Balaam (“people devourer”) tried to destroy Jacob.

The book begins not only with a description of Job’s blameless character (priesthood), but also his great wealth (kingdom).

The first attack strips Job of all of his kingly attributes—the fruit of the land and the womb, that is, the signs of earthly succession as an heir of the God whose chosen sons are the “firstborn” according to faith instead of birth order.

This renders Job unacceptable in the court of his people. But the second attack targets Job’s own body, making him “spotted and blemished” in his priestly attributes. This renders Job ceremonially unacceptable in God’s court (Leviticus 21:17-19).

As those who have read Moses, we are expected to understand these allusions. If Job was indeed a living sacrifice, and thus an heir of God, then he no longer resembled one. All that remained was his faith. And that is the point. Both God in heaven and Job on earth—Father and son— were ultimately vindicated. This helps us to understand the other mentions of the Sons of God as being those who mediate between heaven and earth on behalf of others as God’s legal

representatives. In Job 38:7, God asks Job where he was “when the morning stars sang together and all the Sons of God shouted for joy.” If God was talking about the Creation, then these could only be angels. But if we know our Bibles, we know that the stars of heaven correspond to human rulers, from the son-stars promised to Abraham right up to the star of Bethlehem, when the actual Son of God was born.

The mention of God shutting the sea in with doors shows that He was talking about the Great Flood. The waters receded, the stars came out in heaven, and the heirs came out onto the earth.

This helps us with the next stop, which is Deuteronomy 32:8.

When the Most High gave to the nations their inheritance, when he divided mankind, he fixed the borders of the peoples according to the number of the sons of God. But the Lord’s portion is his people, Jacob his allotted heritage.

Some angel-fanciers claim that these Sons of God were demonic rulers of the nations, and that Moses is contrasting them with Yahweh. But Moses is referring to the order of Noahic priestkings (including Melchizedek, Jethro, and Job) who kept the peace among the nations listed in Genesis 10. That order was now so corrupt that God was

replacing it with the mediation of one nation, God’s “firstborn son” who would serve Him by offering sacrifices (Exodus 4:22-23). The Tabernacle was a new Eden and Aaron was its Adam. This also explains why God rejected the claims of Korah and his co-conspirators who wanted to be old-style tribal priest-kings. The “military inspection” of the assembled Sons of God in Job 1 is also the key to the judgment of the “gods” in Psalm 82—the rulers of Israel. Having betrayed the God they represented, these tyrants would die “like Adam.”

When John tells the saints that they were now the Sons of God (1 John 3:2), he not only reminds them of Jesus’ promise that His peacemakers would be called the Sons of God (Matthew 5:9), but also that this ministry of reconciliation (2 Corinthians 5:16-21) had now been taken from the Jewish rulers (the “gods” in John 10:34) and given to those who were born of God. Angels can never be sons. They are merely God’s servants. The unseen realm is unseen because it is the kitchen, the stables, and the laundry. God is not focussed on his staff behind the scenes, however glorious their attire. His delight is to feast with His Sons on earth, made fruitful in every way through patient, faithful obedience (Hebrews 1:6-9). n

FICTION

ON THE ORIGINS OF RIVERS

Unfamiliar night sounds reminded Arthur McGuinn that he was in a foreign land and his favorite part of the day had yet to come.

Any part of the day had yet to come.

Patrick Thomas Smith had quietly lit a few candles in Arthur’s room and then retreated to the veranda. Smith always lit candles. When Arthur would ask him why he didn’t just flick a switch, he would say, “Fluorescents are harsh excuses for illumination,” adding, “There’s a reason they install

them in the prison and school systems.” At first, Arthur had been annoyed at the idea of being awakened by flamelight like a thirteenth century peasant but had come around to the pleasant quality of waking to a flame pushed to and fro by drafts. Arthur rose, dressed, and took one of the candles to light his way to the veranda, where coffee and what he believed to be monotony awaited him. “Is it local this time, P.T.?” Arthur asked.

Smith wrote in his notebook. “The merchant said that these beans are from El Salvador.” “Good. They over toast their beans around here.”

Smith stopped writing. “I was beginning to think the same, but the beans we have tried, though being from different vendors and growers, have all been roasted by the same roasters. Other vendors around here do not use the same roasters. I have high hopes for those beans.” He resumed writing. “Isn’t it a bit early for that?” Arthur asked. He sat across from his tutor and travel companion. He marveled at the middle-aged man’s ability to jump in and out of focus on various subjects without ever being frustrated or feeling interrupted. “Don’t you have to strain your eyes without sunlight?”

Smith did not answer.

“What are you working on?” Arthur asked. “Curriculum.”

“I don’t see the point, P.T,” Arthur said.

“Where are you on your copies for the month?” Smith asked. “Eight.”

Smith laid down his pen, brought a candle close to his notebook, and said, “Eight? Arthur, it is the twenty-seventh of November. You must hand copy all thirty-one chapters by the end of the month or we are to return home.”

“They’ll get done.”

“Not if you spend all of your evenings in the surf, they won’t.”

Arthur poured himself a cup of coffee, sipped, and looked at the security lights at each end of the property. “How thick did you say this wall was?”

Smith returned to writing out the curriculum. “Three feet. Reinforced concrete all the way around. The gates are three-inch thick, industrial steel.”

“And the razor wire?” Arthur asked.

“Keeps the government out.” Arthur chuckled. He practiced setting his coffee mug on the wooden table without making a sound. “Who are we renting this from? A drug lord?” he asked. “No, an ex-professional baseball player.”

“Why would he want to live here?”

“He’s from here. He rents his home out when he returns to the states. Now, let’s start with Greek,” Mr. Smith said.

“You introduce these subjects as if they will be simple and short,” Arthur complained.

“Won’t they? You’ve studied Greek since your youth. This is simple review.”

Arthur finished his coffee with a gulp. “My father doesn’t know how to construct a sentence in Greek, but yet, expects me to have an opinion on Sophocles and Plato in the original.”

“Your father, a most busy man, must study his Greek by the word, and has bought his sons enough time for them to study their Greek by the work,” Smith

said. He laid down his pen again and examined his notes. “It’s a start,” he said to himself.

“Yes, by the work! The work is what I want to do. I’ve mastered multiple roles in our company. Why can’t my competency speak for itself? What am I proving by traveling and learning?” Arthur asked.

“His company. It will be a long while until you may say our company. We will be in Istanbul next month. Remind me to mentally prepare for the difference between this and Turkish coffee. This withholds all that Turkish coffee generously gives.”

A cargo truck with workers brimming over the hand cut wooden bedrails drove past the front gate. It struggled and lurched in a low gear. Another car passed and they exchanged pleasantries by car horn. Then Smith remembered Arthur’s question. “You’re not proving anything. You’re preparing.”

“With more room in the soil my roots may make up for lost time.”

DILLON HAMILTON

“Preparing for what?”

“To take the keys to the castle.”

Arthur scoffed and shoved himself from the chair, turning his back to the candlelight. “My father has at a minimum twenty years left to carry his keychain,” he said.

“The keys will pass before then. He wants the transition to be mere ceremony when he passes. You and your brothers will have taken over operations by then.”

“Me and my brothers? Has my father never seen King Lear?”

“I asked him the same question. He looked at me sideways and said, ‘Have you seen it, Patrick? Lear had daughters. I have sons.’”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Sons! Two of which checked in their loyalties as soon as they could leave. Will took up with our competitor’s daughter and Jack became a regulator. I’m not sure which decision Dad hated more. Sons and brothers, to and fro.”

Smith gestured for Arthur to sit. “But they have returned.”

Arthur sat. “Only after they were ruined.”

“Men who have been restored will know how to restore others.”

“They also know how to ruin things.”

“All men know how to ruin things, Arthur.”

“They ruin by default. I’m the one who stayed.”

“Beat your breast more and see how tall you grow before the axe is laid to your root,” Smith said.

“Pride has been pruned from this tree, P.T. Each time a brother uproots and is replanted nearby, humiliation hacks away another of my vain limbs.”

Smith tugged at the handle of his mug. “From want of foliage you are found bitter.”

“With more room in the soil my roots may make up for lost time,” Arthur said.

“You see your brothers as a hindrance?”

“Reoccurring ones.”

“There is a method, employed by gardeners, called intercropping. They find complementary plants and plant them close to one another, suppressing weeds and promoting healthy soil and root growth.”

“And I should pay my brothers such a compliment?”

“How could you turn down an opportunity to enrich the soil you find yourself in? Room for your roots.”

“Why should I ask for hemlock to my right and left? The morning dew would make a potion for their careless leaves to drop that my roots may drink salutation to all my vain and glorious boughs.”

“You know that’s not how hemlock works, right? You mixed your metaphors,” Mr. Smith said.

“I always do, but it’s the best I can do at carrying on the metaphors.”

“I’ll admit you’re getting better. Now, on to the Greek.”

“Ach! May we please start with something in English this morning? I did not sleep well last night,” Arthur complained

Smith examined his plans and reluctantly said, “Very well.” He added very quickly, “But I pick the work,” so that Arthur could not make a suggestion.

“It better not be an English work about Greek,” Arthur said.

“That trick only works once.” Smith winked at Arthur and returned to his room with a candle. He stumbled back onto the veranda moments later with a stack of loose papers that he laid before Arthur.

“What am I looking at? Is this the title page?” Arthur asked. “No, there’s no title page, yet. I haven’t settled on a title, but I find On the Origins of Rivers to be most fitting.”

Arthur skimmed through the first few pages. “Why are you writing about the origins of rivers?”

Smith tucked himself closer to

the table. “It’s the most mysterious subject.”

“It really isn’t. The headwaters of any river around the world can be found by following the bank against the flow,” Arthur said. “You’re disinterested?”

“How are you not?” Arthur asked.

“Getting to the headwaters is just the beginning. Then you must deal with the arguments,” Smith said.

“The arguments? From whom? About what?”

“About which tributary, stream, brook, or spring is the real source.”

“Is that not settled among limnologists, topographers, and geographers?” Arthur asked.

“Maybe amongst them, but rarely amongst those who live near the rivers themselves,” Smith said. “Why would locals argue with the limnologists, topographers, and geographers?” Arthur asked. “They have known the river much longer. They have been planted there, like the trees, and know the river can begin in one dell on a certain day and in another dell the next,” Smith said.

“Is this what you spend your days on?” Arthur asked.

“Some of my days.”

“I guess when you don’t stand to inherit responsibility you can occupy yourself with such things.”

Smith shifted in his chair so forcefully that the feet of the chair scraped against the concrete veranda. “I stand to inherit familial wealth, but I lack advancement to responsibility. Your tutelage is as far as I can see that I may go and that’s fine with me.”

“You? You lack advancement?

I have mended the rungs of the ladder so that my brothers may climb past me, while I hold the base and watch them sweat to reach for the next rung.”

“Bitter fruit is the son who hopes to be plucked from the tree before his time,” Smith said.

“There is no fruit, bitter or sweet, from the bud that is disallowed to bloom,” Arthur retorted.

“Can you ever expect to bloom, if you cling to an overactive pathos?” Smith asked.

Arthur squared his shoulders. “I believe I have a legitimate complaint,” he said.

“And indeed, you may, but that is between you and your father. It is not fair to him or me to place this complaint before me, the one who is only allowed to judge your academic work.”

Arthur’s shoulders slouched. He gripped his coffee mug with both hands and sipped. “You’re right,” he said into the mug.

Smith returned to his writing. Looking up from time to time, he caught Arthur scanning some of the loose pages of his work. After a while, he noticed that Arthur was reading each word in earnest. Smith let the sun rise above the gentle canopy before he asked, “What do you think?”

“I’m thirty pages in and I want to stand at the mouth of every river and trace its bank to its source on foot, but…I have things to do,” Arthur said. He set the manuscript down in a neat pile.

“Yes, things to do. We were speaking of inheritances earlier. Has your father ever told you what happened to his inheritance?” Mr. Smith asked.

“It was lost.”

“No, not merely lost. It was turned into a mountain of debt.”

Arthur scoffed. “My father has no debts.”

“They have known the river much longer, planted like the trees.”

“Not anymore, he doesn’t.”

“He had debts?” Arthur asked. “He inherited them. His mother, your grandmother that you never met, visited your grandfather in his age and convinced him to give her complete preference over your father in the business. Before this, the parameters being so set-in stone that the only way to budge them would be indulgence in the deepest corruptions of soul and flesh, your father was to inherit the labor, while his mother received the old man’s fruits. They were the wealthy owners of many lumber yards in logging country. She mismanaged the yards and spent the money at racetracks and on self-improvement programs. Your father agreed to inherit her business debts for complete ownership of the company. None of your grandfather’s cash had been held in trust for your father. His mother and the cash were both eventually spent,” Smith said. “How long did it take him to pay off the debts?” Arthur asked. “Fourteen months. He received no salary and suffered continued illnesses during that time.” “What illness?”

Smith shrugged. “He never went to a doctor. He compared it to being in a state of unrepentant sin, as it left him in a perpetual

fogginess and only allowed him to think about present wants and needs. He reached for anything that might help it to dissipate— anything but the very thing that might help.”

“What was that?” Arthur asked. “Rest.”

“When did he rest?”

“When the debts were finally paid. He owned a trailer house that sat on one of the lumber yards. The day the debts were paid he began his rest there and didn’t emerge for two weeks. On the fourteenth morning, the lumber yard workers found him driving a forklift with more color in his face than can be found in a sunrise,” Smith said.

“How old was he?” Arthur asked.

“Your age. He said that he felt those fourteen months had taken two years from him.”

“Two years? How long have we been traveling, P.T.?” Arthur asked.

“We’re coming up on fourteen months.”

“And we have Turkey, Greece, and Italy to round out the travels?”

“Yes, that’s right. Why?” Smith asked.

Arthur cleared his throat. “By my count, that puts us at around ten more months of travel and study.”

“That’s right.”

“What if we cut ourselves short by a month here in Nicaragua and cut a month off of our time in Turkey?” Arthur asked.

“For what purpose?”

“There’s this river in Azerbaijan—”

“Hold on. They have been locked down for nearly four years at this point. Why would you pick Azerbaijan?” Smith asked.

“Well, it’s not technically Azerbaijan, but that’s where access to the river ends.”

“Where is it technically?”

“The Republic of Artsakh.”

“The disputed territory between Armenia and Azerbaijan? Ha! How long do you think a couple of fellas who look like us would last in a place like that?” Smith asked, rhetorically.

“You haven’t seen the river, yet.”

“I don’t need to see the river to write about it.”

“No, but you need to stay with me. Are there any rules to changing the itinerary in our travels?”

“No.”

“Is it at my discretion or yours?”

“Your father said it was up to both of us?”

“Bless that man. His democratic ideals have worked in my favor

for once. What must I do to sway you, partisan?” Arthur exclaimed.

“Is my life worth a river?”

Arthur scratched behind an ear and waved at a mosquito that had emerged from the same unseen and dark cleft. “Depends on the river.”

“You’re correct. It does. It depends on where the river takes you and how much life it offers. Is it better to be planted by the water or riding on the flow?”

“It’s best to walk upstream until you find a good place to be planted. What do you think we might find at the headwaters of this contested river?” Arthur asked.

“A father and a mother,” Smith said.

“A father and a mother of who? The river itself?”

“No, not the river, but rivers always have fathers and mothers at their head. They flow outward from their high point and gain more life with each mile downstream until they reach their end. It’s why we rarely retrace our steps upstream. It would take work that we are unwilling to spend the time and effort to accomplish. We discount the place of our fathers and mothers for all of the life on the point of the river where we now live,” Smith said.

“You have left me dumb, here. I cannot carry the metaphor with you.”

“Neither can I. That’s as far as I’ve ever gotten and it’s not very good.”

They both laughed. Two morning shower storms passed over them, freshening the ground.

“How does my place on the river look to you, P.T.?”

“What do you mean?” Smith asked.

“You seem to think my advancement far outpaces yours. What does it look like where I have been planted?” “Honestly?”

“Let all other things you teach me be false compared to your answer.”

“You are rooted deep next to a calm pool with two saplings between you and the river. If a flood comes, and we are due one soon, then they will be lost to its force before you are. Your branches overshadow them, and

roots undercut them. They only grow if you grow. And if there is a tree with more plentiful boughs over the water to cast its fruit down river, I have not seen it,” Smith said.

“So, you think I should marry her when we have our break next month?” Arthur asked.

“If you do not, I would count you, at the same time, the most self-serving and self-disserved McGuinn that I have had the pleasure of knowing,” Smith said.

Arthur scoffed. “That’s easy for you to say. She wants six children!”

“She has not been promised any. She blooms in hope for them. Do not deny her the fruit. Do not be responsible for the barrenness of a willing tree,” Smith said.

“I’m sorry, P.T.. I never meant to bring up—”

“You didn’t. I did. Mrs. Smith and I are content and have found ways to graft good portions of ourselves where they may be best used,” Mr. Smith said.

Arthur smiled. “How has the graft healed in me?”

“That remains to be seen,” Smith flipped backward in his notebook. “Now, on to the Greek!”

“Fine, but later I want to hear more about the origins of rivers.”

“Do not be responsible for the barrenness of a willing tree.”

The cutting of Adam in Genesis 2 was a “liturgy in flesh and blood” that served as a pattern for the entire history in the Bible.

DIVIDE AND CONQUER

INSIDE GOD’S WAR ROOM

Julius Caesar famously said, divida et impera, divide and rule. But many civilizations used the “divide and conquer” strategy long before Caesar.

In our time, rulers bent on increasing their power use it on their own citizens. They sow discord over race, class, and religion because division brings confusion, confusion brings weakness, and a weak people is easier to control and exploit.

The Bible’s basic sevenfold shape contains two doors: Division and Conquest. The best example of these doors in operation is the relationship between the Red Sea and the Jordan River in Israel’s trek from Egypt to Canaan. God divided Israel from Egypt, then Israel conquered Canaan.

“Divide and conquer” matches God’s method because men are simply thinking God’s thoughts after Him. Through trial and error we figure out which

MICHAEL BULL

methods work in the world that He made, and which do not.

The first proper Division was the establishment of a “veil” between heaven and earth on Day 2. This “firmament” is the only element of Creation that God did not call “good.” The reason for this is that although it was necessary, it was only temporary. It was not “bad,” but it was a division designed to be overcome and removed. Faith will one day give way to sight.

This barrier was represented by the Veil in the Tabernacle, and that divide was also temporary. It was torn from top to bottom when Jesus’ death opened a door of legal access to God’s throne for all who believe (Matthew 27:5054; Hebrews 4:14-16; 10:19-22).

Hebrews 10:20 reveals that Jesus’ own flesh was a veil to be torn. But the first human flesh to be cut was that of Adam, and here we observe that every division, every barrier set up, is designed by God to accomplish unity in a greater way. Adam’s flesh was divided that he and his wife might become one flesh. Jesus’ bride is, of course, the Church.

These “veils” are the basis for Paul’s remark in 1 Corinthians 7:5 that even a husband and wife are temporarily separated for the purpose of devotion to prayer, and reunited in a greater glory. The intention of the Babel builders was to bring strength via

unity. Jesus requests a similar, but holy, unity from the Father in His prayer in John 17. God brings division when the unity is godless, and He brings unity— the fellowship of the Spirit— when men are godly.

Christians, likewise, separate themselves from evil that the world might be conquered by the Gospel, and pastors excommunicate the unrepentant in the hope of reconciliation. Division instigated by God is a scalpel designed to bring healing, a wall to protect his vessels, a wrapping that promises a gift, a veil that temporarily hides a glorious face. This is why the title of the Book of Revelation also means an “uncovering.”

In terms of human maturity, Division and Conquest are humbling and exaltation. This is where a military conquest differs from God’s intentions for Man. When God conquers us, we serve Him as sons, not slaves. When He “cuts us up” with the Word of God (Hebrews 4:12), He does so

that our testimony might ascend to Him as a pleasing savor.

The basic sequence of an offering by fire (an “ascension”) follows the pattern of the Creation, the Tabernacle, the Feasts, and the “trial by fire” of Dominion. This means that every test is designed to refine, purify, and transform us into temples for God’s Spirit (1 Corinthians 6:19).

God’s kitchen

An animal without blemish is chosen from the herd (Creation / Ark)

The animal is set apart from the others and cut (Division / Veil)

The flesh is lifted up, and placed upon the altar (Ascension / Altar & Table)

It is consumed and transformed by God’s holy fire (Testing / Lampstand)

Fragrant smoke ascends to God as a testimony (Maturity / Incense)

God approves the savor; the faithful offerer is now considered “blameless” (Conquest / Mediators)

Heaven and earth, God and men, are reconciled, and there is unity and fellowship (Glorification / Shekinah)

When God conquers us, we serve Him as sons, not slaves.

Like cooking, the process starts with raw materials and combines them to make something greater than the sum of its parts. It ends with a celebratory fellowship, like the table of God intended for Adam and Even on Day 7, and the mountaintop feast enjoyed by Israel’s elders in Exodus 24:11.

This concept of “raw materials” explains the prohibition of mixed fabrics and mixed crops under the Law of Moses. Like Jew and Gentile, things were divided like the ingredients in a pantry.

But the intention to combine them all again in a holy way was hinted at in the attire of the High Priest. Even the recipe for the anointing oil was proprietary.

Aaron was covered in “burial” linen on the Day of Atonement, but for any other ministry he wore a glorious “holy mixture”— animal, vegetable, and mineral (yarn, linen, gold, and precious stones)—because “from him and through him and to him are all things” (Romans 11:36). He carried representatives of the entire created order before God.

Humanity had been divided in two in Abraham (which is why his sacrifices were not offered whole but cut in half). This is why the priests were bloodied and oiled only on the “kingly” right side of their bodies (Leviticus 14:14-18). But on the cross, Jesus was bloodied on both

sides of His priestly body on earth, and anointed as our priestking in heaven. His death ended the division of flesh—both the circumcision and the Law (Ephesians 2:11-22). Adam had been divided in Abraham that he might be conquered in Jesus.

This divide-and-conquer pattern explains the architecture of the Tabernacle (see pages 30-31 in theo #7). It starts with a vertical axis (1) which is then given its two “doors” (2), Division and Conquest. God then “rips open” this cross-shaped human tent horizontally to construct the fragrant bride from its heart (3). This blueprint is also found in the testing of Adam, in the

history from Adam to Noah, and in the entire history of the Bible. In each case, the halves of what was torn open were designed to be reunited, “intermarried,” by the Spirit of God as He “closed up the flesh” (Genesis 2:21). But the Bible is a tragic history of men attempting to manufacture unity and strength without the fellowship of the Spirit as their mortar. Lacking God’s help in building the house (Psalm 127:1), their raw materials do not hold together, and their kingdoms return to the dust (Daniel 2:43).

The testing of Adam Adam is threefold, fivefold, and sevenfold—an image of God

expressed as Covenant, Creation, and Dominion (4). The fruits of the priestly and kingly trees in Eden were to be mixed together in Adam’s body in that order submission to heaven first, then dominion on earth, after which he would qualify as a priest-king, God’s prophet. But Adam failed to condemn the serpent and rescue his bride, so the prophetic element is missing (5). Instead of bearing the sword (like Joshua), he remained under the sword.

The faith of Noah

This blueprint also exposes the notion of “angel marriage” in Genesis 6 as entirely bogus. The “offices” of the two trees in Eden became the offices of Abel

(priest) and Cain (firstborn king). Cain’s exile resulted in two family trees, with Enoch (taken by God as an “annual firstfruits” at age 365) and murderous Lamech as the seventh from Adam in each family. The priests put kingdom first, corrupting their ministry of sacrifice and proclamation. This prophetic element went missing until the Lord called Noah. The Flood was a Day of Atonement that covered the world, and Noah was made God’s sword bearer. He also planted a kingly garden (6).

The Melchizedek mystery

The devil hijacked history once again at the Tower of Babel. To avoid another global judgment, the Lord established a

substitutionary, sacrificial “creation” in Abram, who bore the Edenic curses of barrenness upon the land and the womb and overcame them by faith. Setting his houshold apart was the Division of a greater pattern that takes us to the end of the Bible. The history of Israel was the testing of Adam but in national terms. It contained a food law, a promise of kingdom, a time of humbling preparation, and the promise of a godly “firstfruits” that would submit to God and take dominion of the entire earth (Psalm 37:11; Matthew 5:5).

This “Tabernacle” incorporates the priestly “Garden” Babylon of Nimrod, the kingly “Land” Babylon of Nebuchadnezzar, and the prophetic/spiritual “World” Babylon that was first-century Jerusalem—the one condemned in Revelation for murdering the Apostolic Church (7).

But notice that the splitting of Israel into northern and southern kingdoms, and its reunion after the exile, is the same thing in miniature. The Division came after King Rehoboam behaved like Pharaoh, and the Conquest is recorded in the Book of Esther.

In Tabernacle terms, these two kingdoms were the priestly bread and kingly wine on the priestly Table. In the larger picture, after Melchizedek brought bread and wine to worship with Abraham

Conquest of Babylon – above, beside, and below

Kingly Babylon of Nebuchadnezzar Dominion over the Earth

Priestly Babylon of Nimrod A Tower to Heaven Gentiles | Israel The Call of Abram (circumcision) The Law of Moses

Warnings of the Prophets

Israel divided Captivity Jews reunited

The Ministry of Christ (baptism) Israel (flesh) Church (Spirit) Cursing (Matthew 23) | Blessing (Matthew 5)

Prophetic Babylon of the Herods destroyed The city enthroned upon the Waters

(Genesis 14:18), no Israelite was permitted to drink wine before God until Israel’s temporary purpose was fulfilled in Christ.

Like the kingly tree in Eden, it was forbidden until “Adam” fully submitted to heaven. Bread and wine were divided like the flesh and blood of the sacrifice.

When Jesus gave bread and wine at the last supper, it was because His flesh and blood, separated on the cross, would be reunited in a new body—in the conquest of death. That is why Jesus’ royal priesthood is “after the order of Melchizedek” (Psalm 110:4;

Hebrews 7:17). There is no longer any Division of obligation between the nations. And the ministry of Jesus’ Church is one of global, prophetic Conquest

As you read the Bible, look for all of the Division events, both the personal (such as Moses fleeing Egypt) and the national (such as the exodus), and then for their corresponding Conquest events.

To help you in the use of this method, it would be good to review all that we have covered, beginning with the Theology Accelerator in theo #1. n

“THERE’S NOT A SQUARE INCH IN THE WHOLE DOMAIN OF HUMAN EXISTENCE OVER WHICH CHRIST, WHO IS LORD OVER ALL, DOES NOT EXCLAIM, ‘MINE’!”

— ABRAHAM KUYPER

“HE MUST REIGN, TILL SATAN HAS NOT AN INCH OF TERRITORY.”

— WILLIAM CAREY

SEX ROLES THE CHURCH’S MANLINESS PROBLEM

A Roman Catholic friend takes a look at the reasons for the lack of spirited men in the Western Church, and calls for it to become “lionhearted” once again.

GEORGE OF CAPPADOCIA

The Roman Catholic Church today has more problems than it can count. That’s the bad news. The good news is that the Church has often had more problems than it can count. Deep trouble seems to be a common state of affairs for the Catholic Church, and yet it always seems to avoid ruin. One might even be tempted to conclude that, despite all the failings of the flawed

REDEEMING THE CULTURE

human beings who run it, the Church is constantly rescued and renewed by a higher power.

I’d like to consider the crisis nearest and dearest to my heart: the Church’s manliness problem. It doesn’t know what to do with manly types.

Any observer could look upon the Church and not unreasonably determine it to be an institution for women, seniors, children, and maybe a few bureaucrats. What Leon Podles said of all modern American churches is no less true of Catholic ones: they are essentially “women’s clubs with a few male officers.” “All are welcome!” we repeatedly hear— except it’s not at all clear that those with heroic longings and top-20% testosterone levels have any business here.

As a result, spirited men are increasingly likely to turn elsewhere for their religious longings—to paganism, to Islam, or to the Eastern Church. What’s even more distressing is the nonchalance with which many Catholics meet this fact, as though it’s not much of a problem. But it’s a big problem. I don’t know why we think we can do without spirited men. We need them.

If we are going to fix this, we need to start with a good accounting of why we find ourselves in this mess. Let us be the kind of men who don’t just gripe for the sake of griping but instead have an eye toward understanding the problem and fixing it. With that said, I want to look at a few reasons why the Church alienates spirited men— not a comprehensive list, just a few thoughts.

1)The push to “update,” “modernize,” and become more “accessible” has been a total disaster.

Despite the proclamation of our recent reformers that we need to “engage the culture,” the changes of the last half century seem to amount mostly to a relaxing of standards. Wayward shepherds insisted the faithful wanted this.

One staggers at the impoverishment of understanding on the part of these shepherds if they think that’s how human beings actually work. It might be what people say they want, but it’s not what they actually want.

Real men are hit hardest by this relaxation of standards. They long for high standards, not ease and accommodation. They take low standards to be an implied insult. Pandering is something a real man despises.

Fasting is one of the most

obvious examples. Once upon a time, the Church demanded that the faithful fast twice per week. Now we fast twice a year. And those fasts are pretty undemanding: one meal with two “collations” or snack-meals amounts to a minor inconvenience. If fasts make a man formidable—and they do— our Church seems unwilling to ask men to be formidable.

The push to update also spells the dismissal of the beautiful history

people. A lack of confidence is never an attractive thing. Why would men want to follow a commanding officer who apologizes whenever asking anything of his men?

2)Christians are terribly confused about the term “meek.”

We all know Jesus calls us to be meek in the Sermon on the Mount. The problem is that we don’t know what meek means. We know it rhymes with weak. We know that people increasingly use it as a synonym for weak. We know the dictionary seems to confirm this. But this understanding is a recent development which inserts a different meaning into Jesus’ mouth than the one He actually uttered.

and tradition and liturgy that might have made the Church uniquely capable of countering the ugliness and idiocy of the modern consumer existence.

Instead we are now looking at a classically beautiful woman who deliberately tries to uglify herself with the most unflattering procedures and fashions. And all the while we are told that she is making herself ugly because we wanted her that way. The Church has lost confidence in its right to ask anything of

Jesus does not mean we should be weak. Meekness is, instead, the check a man places on his anger so that it doesn’t own him. He doesn’t deny it, suppress it, or wish it away, but he does assert that his better judgment will prevail and not his hot temper.

According to Aquinas, meekness “restrains the onslaught of anger” and “properly mitigates the passion of anger.” The meek, according to Msgr. Pope, “are those who have authority over their anger, who can command and control its power, moderating and directing its

The Church has lost confidence in its right to ask anything of people.

energy to good rather than destructive ends.”

Meekness is unequivocally good. And, contrary to the degraded modern understanding of it, meekness serves the purpose of making a man strong. He who is controlled by his anger is easily provoked, easily sidetracked, burning his energy on trivialities. In other words: he is weak.

But the overemphasis on meekness has lead us astray because overemphasis leads to distortions and rips a virtue out of the larger context of virtues.

3)Similarly, we have lost all concept of magnanimity.

I find people look puzzled whenever I use this word. “Magna-what?”

Magnanimity means greatheartedness. A person is magnanimous, in the words of Josef Pieper, “if he has the courage to seek what is great and becomes worthy of it.”

Both Aristotle and Aquinas call this the “jewel of all virtues.”

Magnanimity orients us toward the greatest possibilities.

Spirited men need to hear the call of greatness, and they need to know that the Faith encourages these ambitions rather than scolding them.

But, like anything, proper direction is needed. Perhaps the most important thing to understand about magnanimity is that it is a tandem virtue to humility, not a contradiction of it. Just as humility protects us from presumption, magnanimity guides us away from laziness, complacency, and despair—that vortex of viciousness which once went by the term acedia. Humility and magnanimity cooperate to keep us directed toward what is both attainable and great.

The Church has sabotaged its appeal to spirited men by frowning on talk of greatness and attaching suspicions of pride to it. We must understand that pride is not the only danger in the spiritual life, especially not in our time.

Despair and laziness are every bit as dangerous—and this is why magnanimity is so crucial, especially now.

As sons of the living God, you are called to greatness. Anything less is beneath you. Conclusion

The time for complaining is long past. We need now to seek to understand why we find ourselves in these troubles, as I’ve tried to do here, however incompletely. And then we need to work toward solutions. It is time to Make Catholicism Lionhearted Again.

contributors this issue

Michael Bull is a graphic designer and author who lives in the Blue Mountains west of Sydney, Australia. His passion is understanding and teaching the Bible.

Josh Robinson is the husband of Ally and the father of Amelia. He is the pastor, and a teaching elder, of New Haven Church in Madison, West Virginia, USA.

Dillon Hamilton is an author who lives in Norman, Oklahoma, USA, with his wife and children.

George of Cappadocia writes and tweets as The Chivalry Guild.

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As sons of the living God, you are called to greatness.