Explaining what a passage doesn’t mean is not exegesis.
I don’t think this should be controversial, but apparently it is.
One way this shows up is a misguided application of a concept called “the analogy of faith.” Suppose we’re exegeting Passage A, and it looks like it might be saying something dangerous. Somebody in the room will immediately resort to the following argument: Scripture can’t contradict Scripture; Passage B says X (which precludes the Dangerous Idea), and therefore Passage A cannot be saying not-X (the Dangerous Idea). The argument is valid, as far as that goes, but there’s room for a multitude of mistakes in the definitions of X and not-X. Once upon a time, back when they were working out the hypostatic union, you could have applied this strategy thus: We all know that humans can’t be God; Passage B says Jesus is really God; therefore, whatever it is that Passage A might be saying, it can’t be saying that Jesus is really human. Of course the problem with that argument is that while it’s true that humans can’t ascend to deity, God can condescend to humanity–and did! I could do a whole treatise on proper and improper applications of the analogy of faith argument, but my point today is much narrower: that argument is not exegesis of the passage at hand.
See, when Passage A seemed about to say something threatening, we ran off to Passage B and exegeted that instead. And since Passage B is our very favorite passage on the (presumed) matter at hand, we may well have exegeted that passage in loving detail. But that doesn’t actually tell us anything about the meaning of Passage A. We don’t know what Passage A tells us to think or believe or feel. We don’t know what it calls us to do. We claim to believe that all Scripture (Passage A included) is the very word of God, profitable for doctrine, reproof, correction, and instruction in righteousness. But what we’ve actually done is wad Passage B up and stuff it in our ears to prevent us from getting the wrong idea when Passage A is read.
It works, too. But it also keeps us from getting the right idea when Passage A is read. God wrote that passage for a reason, and even if we’re right that it’s not saying the Dangerous Idea, it certainly is saying something. Shouldn’t we want to know what?
There’s a better way. Dig in. Learn what Passage A actually says. When you know what it really says, that will be the sole and sufficient refutation for all the dangerous misinterpretations out there. You’ll be able to handle them, and more importantly — and I can’t emphasize this enough — you’ll know what the passage actually says. You can trust what it’s telling you, and apply its lessons to your life, and you’ll be far the richer for it.
And anyway, if you’re actually sure, based on the analogy of faith, that Passage A really can’t be saying the Dangerous Idea, then what are you afraid of?
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