Fire on the Mountain

7 July 2020

I delivered this talk at Faith Community Church in Littleton, CO, some weeks ago as a discussion starter. The full discussion centered around the question, “Where is God’s Presence?”

I know this sounds like a lame question. This is theology 101, right? God is omnipresent — He’s everywhere. So great; that’s settled.

What I hope you’ll find this morning is that our Scripture passage (Acts 2:1-24) forces us to rethink. Omnipresence is true, but it’s also true that God is particularly present in a special way at specific times and places.

This is true starting all the way back in the Garden. If we closely read the description of Eden and the accounts of the fall of Lucifer, we find that the Garden was planted in the lowlands of a region called Eden. It had to be in the lowlands, because there was a river that watered it — and the river had to flow down from higher ground. Somewhere else in Eden was a place of volcanic beauty, where Lucifer, the anointed covering cherub in the very presence of God, covered in gemstones, walked back and forth in the midst of the fiery stones. Obviously that’s not the same place where Adam and Eve were going about naked among the fruit trees.

But in the cool of the day, God would leave the glory of the fiery stones and come walk in the garden with the man and woman He created.

When we sinned, God dispatched a cherub with a flaming sword to guard the gate to the garden. Divine fire blocked our way back to God.

From that day forward, we often meet God in fire.

Moses meets God in the burning bush. Before they cross the Red Sea, God stands between Israel and the Egyptian army in a huge pillar of cloud and fire.

And the Angel of God, who went before the camp of Israel, moved and went behind them; and the pillar of cloud went from before them and stood behind them. So it came between the camp of the Egyptians and the camp of Israel. Thus it was a cloud and darkness to the one, and it gave light by night to the other, so that the one did not come near the other all that night. (Ex. 14:19-20)

Later, Moses and the whole nation meet God on Mount Sinai. God descends to the mountaintop in fire and storm.

And Moses brought the people out of the camp to meet with God, and they stood at the foot of the mountain. Now Mount Sinai was completely in smoke, because the LORD descended upon it in fire. Its smoke ascended like the smoke of a furnace, and the whole mountain quaked greatly. And when the blast of the trumpet sounded long and became louder and louder, Moses spoke, and God answered him by voice. (Ex. 19:17-19)

When the tabernacle is built, divine fire comes out of the sanctuary and kindles the offering on the altar. Later, God executes wayward priests who offer strange fire on His altar.

And Aaron lifted up his hand toward the people, and blessed them, and came down from offering of the sin offering, and the burnt offering, and peace offerings. And Moses and Aaron went into the tabernacle of the congregation, and came out, and blessed the people: and the glory of the LORD appeared unto all the people. And there came a fire out from before the LORD, and consumed upon the altar the burnt offering and the fat: which when all the people saw, they shouted, and fell on their faces. (Lev. 9:22-24)

God leads Israel as a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. When they’re camped, the pillar of cloud and fire is always above the Tabernacle, and divine fire burns on the altar, a portable mountain of God.

When Solomon dedicates the temple, God once again brings down fire from heaven and kindles the altar.

When Solomon had finished praying, fire came down from heaven and consumed the burnt offering and the sacrifices; and the glory of the LORD filled the temple. And the priests could not enter the house of the LORD, because the glory of the LORD had filled the LORD’S house. When all the children of Israel saw how the fire came down, and the glory of the LORD on the temple, they bowed their faces to the ground on the pavement, and worshiped and praised the LORD, saying: “For He is good, For His mercy endures forever.”Then the king and all the people offered sacrifices before the LORD. (2 Chr. 7:1-4)

When Elijah faces the prophets of Baal, he calls down divine fire from heaven to consume the sacrifice.

And it came to pass, at the time of the offering of the evening sacrifice, that Elijah the prophet came near and said, “LORD God of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, let it be known this day that You are God in Israel and I am Your servant, and that I have done all these things at Your word. “Hear me, O LORD, hear me, that this people may know that You are the LORD God, and that You have turned their hearts back to You again.” Then the fire of the LORD fell and consumed the burnt sacrifice, and the wood and the stones and the dust, and it licked up the water that was in the trench. Now when all the people saw it, they fell on their faces; and they said, “The LORD, He is God! The LORD, He is God!” And Elijah said to them, “Seize the prophets of Baal! Do not let one of them escape!” (1 Ki. 18:36-40)

Days later, when Elijah flees into the desert, he meets God once again on Mount Sinai. All the things that happened with Moses happen again: storm, fire, and earthquake…but God is not in them. Then God comes to him in a still, small voice.

Then He said, “Go out, and stand on the mountain before the LORD.” And behold, the LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind tore into the mountains and broke the rocks in pieces before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice. (1 Ki. 19:11-12)

After the resurrection, Jesus told His disciples to go disciple the nations, but to wait in Jerusalem until they received the Holy Spirit. When the Spirit came on Pentecost, he came as God had come on Sinai: a mighty rushing wind and fire. But this time, the fire is not in just one place: one mountain, one altar, one pillar of fire. There are tongues of fire on every believer’s head.

When the Day of Pentecost had fully come, they were all with one accord in one place. And suddenly there came a sound from heaven, as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled the whole house where they were sitting. Then there appeared to them divided tongues, as of fire, and one sat upon each of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance. (Acts 2:1-4)

And just like with Elijah on the mountain, the real power’s not in the fire. The real power’s in the voice that comes after the fire: everyone hears the wonderful works of God in their own language, and 3,000 people are added to the church that day.

Now there’s a temptation that hits us, as soon as we start to talk about how every believer has this. We stop thinking it’s special. We mentally put it with omnipresence. Everybody has it. It’s no big deal. No.

Do you understand the picture God is painting here? Every believer is the burning bush, Mount Sinai, the pillar of fire, the Tabernacle, the Temple, all rolled into one. This is not just omniscience; God is specifically present in you in a way that He is not present with everybody. When you walk into a room full of unbelievers, the fire of God just walked in — and remember, after the fire comes a voice. What will you say? It matters!

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Posted by Tim Nichols

A Prophet’s Biggest Job

30 June 2020

We haven’t paid enough attention to Paul’s instructions to the Corinthians about how to conduct a church service. The challenge is to come together, each one with a psalm, a teaching, a tongue, a revelation, an interpretation, and do so in such a way that we grow together.

In Corinth, everybody brought what they had: a psalm, a teaching, a tongue, a revelation, an interpretation. They got that part right. (We have trouble with this part.)

The Corinthians missed two things, as Paul explains. The first is order, and you can read about that in any commentary. The second, much less commented upon, is that prophecies must be judged. Just because you think God has spoken to you doesn’t mean you’re right; Paul entrusts the group with the job of discerning gold from dross.

We understand this perfectly well when it comes to teaching, and we understand all the possibilities inherent in it. It’s not an all-or-nothing proposition; one part of a teaching can be true and another false, something could contain a grain of truth but be distorted in some way, and so on — all manner of nuances. We routinely discern the correctness of teaching in just this way.

We are called to do the same with prophecy. Moreover, discerning others’ prophecies was actually the New Testament prophet’s biggest job. (Not prophesying. Does that surprise you?) Suppose you’re part of a house church of, say, 30 people. Now, you don’t all prophesy, although Paul wishes you did, but a bunch of you are prophets. You’ve all been trying to speak at once, which is part of the problem. Let’s suppose that only half the group prophesy. That’s 15 prophets — a real mess when they all start talking over each other. Paul says to stop that: only 2 or 3 will be allowed to speak (one at a time!) in any single gathering. Think through the math: the average prophet in the group will be occupied in hearing and judging others’ prophecies about 5 times more often than he is giving a prophecy himself. The prophet’s biggest job is to discern.

We have trouble envisioning what this looks like in practice, because we have become so thoroughly disobedient that we can’t even imagine it. Paul told us a church service should be orderly, and we’ve taken that to such an extreme that we want to pre-screen everything so that nothing in the church service will require correction. That’s not what Paul said to do. He actually prescribes the opposite solution: let the thing happen, and then correct it. The church service is not supposed to be a polished performance; it’s a workshop.

We can kinda get our heads around workshopping a teaching. We have no trouble talking about how a speaker’s first point was good, his second point was way off base, not at all what the Scripture passage is talking about, and the third point wasn’t bad, but it was more of a personal preoccupation than an application of the text. We understand how to make a nuanced evaluation of teaching. We cringe a little at the idea of someone saying these things in a panel discussion right after the sermon, but why? Do any of us really outgrow the need for feedback? Why not do it together? Why not share it with the Body, so everyone can learn and be encouraged?

If we could review teaching, then why not a prophetic word? We get stuck in the trap of thinking there are only two options: either it was genuine, a prophecy from God, and therefore we have to swallow it whole, or it was not, and we throw it out entirely. Those two options are certainly on the table, but there’s just more to it than that.

Remember that we’re talking about interpersonal communication here: a prophet giving account of what he believes God said to him for the group. When it’s a boss giving his secretary instructions for his employees, what are some of the ways it can go?

  • The secretary faithfully relays the instructions
  • Not listening well enough, the secretary relays most of the instructions, but leaves out something that the group definitely needs to hear
  • The secretary elaborates on the instructions beyond what the boss actually said. The additions are common sense, but maybe not quite what the boss actually had in mind
  • The secretary adds an item that’s really just a personal pet peeve

If the secretary gave you instructions, ostensibly from the boss, that sounded a little funny to you, what would you do? Call the boss and clarify, right? We can do that — we have the Holy Spirit! As we discern a prophetic word together, that might sound like…

  • “That first 30 seconds was gold, definitely from the Holy Spirit, but after that I think you were on a roll and you just started improvising.”
  • “That was incredibly condemning; I believe that was your internal monolog, not God.”
  • “Thank you for that word of exhortation. That was for you personally, not for the whole group.”
  • “As you were speaking, the Lord was confirming to me everything you were saying.”
  • “Most of that was great, except for that one bit about lust. By the way, have you noticed that every single time you prophesy, there’s always something about lust? Let’s talk about why that is…”

Paul intends for the Corinthians to do this. Let someone speak, then evaluate — table-talk it afterwards, in public, with everyone listening. In this way everyone learns to hear God’s voice better, by walking with those who do and leaning on one another — “he who walks with the wise will be wise,” like the man said.

Cessationists regularly complain that the very claim to have a prophetic word renders the content of the prophecy beyond discussion. The whole project is impossible, they will say. They only think this because they have failed to pay attention to what Paul actually told the Corinthians to do. Discernment isn’t impossible; it’s just hard.

We lack the skill to hear God’s voice because we have refused to participate in the exercises where He teaches us how to do it.

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Posted by Tim Nichols

When God Needs Correcting

13 May 2020

In the course of a study on Philippians 3, I ran across this study on σκύβαλα (the Greek word rendered with the inappropriately genteel “rubbish” in verse 8). I commend the article to your attention; it’s well worth reading in its entirety. I’m going to quote the final paragraph here, because in it, the author does something really odd (the underlining is mine):

In Phil 3:8, the best translation of σκύβαλα seems clearly to be from the first group of definitions. The term conveys both revulsion and worthlessness in this context. In hellenistic Greek it seems to stand somewhere between “crap” and “s**t.” However, due to English sensibilities, and considering the readership (Christians), a softer term such as “dung” is most appropriate. The NET Bible, along with a few other translations, grasp the connotations here, while most modern translations only see the term as implying worthlessness. But Paul’s view of his former life is odious to him, as ours should be to us. The best translation, therefore, is one that picks up both worthlessness and revulsion, and probably a certain shock value.

Did you notice that sentence in the middle? “God said one thing, but it’s more appropriate to say something softer, because our feelz.”

Of all the literally damned nonsense.

God knew His audience and English sensibilities from eternity past; He said what He said. If He’s bruising your feelz, it’s not by accident. Why would we presume to correct him with a “softer” expression?

Model yourself after Jesus and those who follow Him, as Paul said in 1 Corinthians 11:1. Talk how God teaches you to talk. You should not be sloppy; do your homework (which is why I recommend you click through and read the whole article, actually — it’s a great example of solid exegetical work.)

You should not automatically go for the reading that best fits your sensibilities. Your sensibilities may run to cucumber sandwiches or more in the shock jock direction; none of that matters. God said what He said.

Do your homework, and then don’t lose your nerve. 

 

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Posted by Tim Nichols

Which Eradicated His Doubt

8 April 2020

Once upon a time, they brought a demon-possessed boy to Jesus. Mark tells the story:

And when the boy saw Jesus, immediately the spirit convulsed him, and he fell on the ground and wallowed, foaming at the mouth. So Jesus asked his father, “How long has this been happening to him?”
And he said, “From childhood. And often he has thrown him both into the fire and into the water to destroy him, but if You can do anything, have compassion on us and help us.”
Jesus said to him, “If you can believe, all things are possible to him who believes.”
Immediately the father of the child cried out and said with tears, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!”
When Jesus saw that the people came running together, He rebuked the unclean spirit, saying to it, “Deaf and dumb spirit, I command you, come out of him and enter him no more!” Then the spirit cried out, convulsed him greatly, and came out of him. And he became as one dead, so that many said, “He is dead.”
But Jesus took him by the hand and lifted him up, and he arose.

In the midst of trial, it is often very hard to get yourself to 100% certainty that God is going to come through. We struggle with this. So did the boy’s father. He had no plan B at all — Jesus was his last hope — and yet, he cannot bring himself to trust all the way.

But the thing to notice here is what Jesus does.

Jesus does not say, “Come back when you have no more doubts.” Jesus hears his prayer, and answers it.

Trust Jesus enough to show up. Trust Him enough to ask. And see what He will do.

2 Comments | Exegesis, Speaking as God Speaks | Permalink
Posted by Tim Nichols

Community Participation in the Triune Life

24 March 2020

Now when [Jesus] had said these things, He cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come forth!”  And he who had died came out bound hand and foot with graveclothes, and his face was wrapped with a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Loose him, and let him go.”

Jesus could have made the graveclothes disappear, could He not?  So why didn’t He? Is He lazy? Inattentive to detail? Surely not.

Jesus involved the community in His miracle. By the power of His spoken word (“Lazarus, come forth!”), Jesus brought Lazarus to life–an impressive feat that no one else present was prepared to do. But as he shuffled forth from the grave, Lazarus was alive, but not free: he was still bound hand and foot. So Jesus spoke another word: “Loose him, and let him go.”

This word was not like the first. It did not accomplish what it signified: the graveclothes did not magically slip off. Rather, it was a word of command to those who stood by and had seen the miracle. Jesus commissioned them to set the newly alive man free. It was their job.

And so it is.

 

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Posted by Tim Nichols

Going Literal, on Steroids

11 February 2020

A while back, Theopolis Institute hosted an online conversation on the quest for human maturity. The scholar who took the lead, one Dr. David Field, proposed a side-by-side comparison of four approaches: Protestant/Reformed, the Desert Fathers, Zen Buddhism, and Freudian/Jungian depth psychology. The initial article is a real jaw-breaker; very long, but the follow-up conversation (and the furor it caused in some quarters) is worth wading through it. While I commend the entire conversation to your attention, I want to call particular attention to this bit of commentary by the director of Theopolis, Peter Leithart:

As David explains the “prima facie case” for his proposal, his radicalism shows its face. He out-Bibles the Bible-only types, opening an expansive horizon for investigation along a Biblicist pathway….

David starts by taking the creation of Adam with what some will regard as naïve literalism: Man becomes a living soul because the breath/Spirit of God is breathed into him. Our spirits are breath because God’s Spirit is breath and we are made in His image. Our inmost self is “God’s life in us.” We are dust animated by divine breath.

For David, this isn’t a poetic flourish. It’s the truth about man, tied to the inextricably physical fact that we must breathe to live. Say what you will about the intake of oxygen and the outflow of carbon dioxide. The essence of breathing is a rhythm of sacrifice, of laying down life in order to take it up, of receiving life we do not have in ourselves; breathing is a dance of divine inspiration, deathly expiration, glorifying conspiration.

Along this line of reflection, David has, and has not, left the Bible behind. At first, it appears that Scripture serves as little more than springboard; much of what David says might be described as “natural theology,” drawn from steady observation of the simplest of human experiences. But his account of that experience is shaped at every moment by the Bible; every claim is theologically charged. Breathing is death-and-resurrection; and so it is also the radical self-denial of discipleship; and so it is also transfiguring union with God. And all the while, David is talking about breathing– not “spiritual” breathing, or breathing as a metaphor for something less gritty and earthy, but breathing. The entire paragraph aims to provide a theological account of the practical power of controlling, holding, pausing our breath. Biblical and natural realities snap together like pieces of a puzzle – provided we doggedly cling to the Bible as fundamental anthropology.

In conversations where the authority of Scripture and the sufficiency of Scripture are very much at issue, this doggedly literal approach is not just a productive way forward. It is the only productive way forward. I’m looking forward to more of it.

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Posted by Tim Nichols

One Book or Two?

7 January 2020

In Matthew’s usage, “fulfill” has a fuller sense (if you’ll pardon the expression) than just the Micah 5:2//Matthew 2:5-6 predictive prophecy usage. For example, the Hosea 11//Matthew 2 usage is real fulfillment, but it’s not predictive prophecy. The Hosea passage is not a prediction of the future Messiah, but a reflection on Israel’s history: “When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called My son.”

The original sense in Hosea is critical to Matthew’s meaning. Knowing that Israel is God’s son is necessary to understanding the points that Matthew is making: first, that Jesus is Israel (in a meaningful sense that Matthew will spend the whole book exploring), and second, that the land of Israel has become spiritual Egypt – a point that will be reinforced by John the Baptist when he calls the remnant out into the desert to pass through water.

We don’t want to read something into the text that isn’t there. At the same time, we don’t want to miss something that *is* there—and the NT shows us repeatedly that there’s a LOT more there than one might think at first glance. From Jesus Himself proving the resurrection by exegeting a verb tense in Genesis (Luke 20:37-38) to the fulfillments of the first few chapters of Matthew (1:22-23, 2:15, 17-18, 23) to the dizzying displays of Hebrews, the NT shows us a way of reading the OT that we wouldn’t have come up with on our own. It had to be revealed to us.

In conservative circles, we have gotten our hermeneutics from the Book of Nature (mostly as read by E. D. Hirsch), which is very useful as far as it goes. But God wrote two books–God’s Word and God’s world–and the Book of Scripture also has something to teach us about how to read well. We should not refuse to learn that set of lessons as well.

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Posted by Tim Nichols

Lots of Little Fires

29 November 2019

Reading assignment: Numbers 10, Psalm 68, Ephesians 4. Then let’s discuss. I don’t have time right now to draw this out in detail, so I’m going to sketch some suggestive high points, and see where that takes us.

In Numbers 10, Moses’ liturgy for the movement of the camp tells Israel what it means that the pillar of cloud/fire is moving: Yahweh is invading the world, scattering His enemies before Him.

David begins Psalm 68 with that same liturgy. The psalm is an extended meditation on its meaning.

Ephesians 4:7-10 shows us how Jesus fulfills a portion of that meditation in His incarnation, resurrection, and ascension, rising to victory at the Father’s right hand, receiving as His due the spoils of victory, and distributing the gifts He’s received to His people. A Christian functioning in the gifts Christ gave is what the Tabernacle/pillar was: Yahweh invading the world. There is no longer one pillar of fire lighting the darkness: there are tongues of fire above every Spirit-baptized person’s head — and like Samson’s foxes running two by two through the Gentile fields, we set everything ablaze as we go.

The invasion continues….

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Posted by Tim Nichols

Joel Is Not A Cessationist

5 November 2019

In Acts 2, Peter applies Joel 2 in an interesting way. Some people believe Peter is stating the direct fulfillment of Joel 2: Joel predicted this day, and here it is.

Most commentators, however, notice some end-of-the-world markers in Joel 2, and therefore feel that Joel’s prophecy has not yet been fulfilled. That being the case, they then say either that Peter was saying Joel 2 was partly fulfilled at Pentecost, or that Peter was just making an analogy.

What I’m about to say here would apply to partial fulfillment positions, but just for the moment let’s accept, for the sake of discussion, that Peter is making an analogical argument (This is like what Joel prophesied…”).

That means Peter is claiming that Pentecost has various points of contact with the Joel prophecy, but the events of Pentecost do not exhaust Joel 2; the actual fulfillment is yet future from Peter’s point of view (and from ours as well, yes?).

In turn, that means—follow me closely here—that all the favored cessation proof texts that are supposed to be telling us that revelation is over, finito, done with, the canon is closed, no fresh revelation, no more—every single one of those passages is in conflict with Joel 2, which pointedly tells us that in the future, our young men will see visions, our old men will dream dreams, our sons and daughters will prophesy—in short, that there will be fresh revelation in the future.

If the fulfillment of Joel 2 is future, then prophecy has not yet ceased.

2 Comments | Doctrinal Inconsistencies, Exegesis, Functioning Supernaturalism | Permalink
Posted by Tim Nichols

Hallucinating Your Ideology

29 October 2019

“A theory is a very dangerous thing to have.”
-Nassim Nicholas Taleb

One of the core ideas of Nassim Taleb’s work is that many small errors in a system are much safer than one big one. If you let individual grocery store managers handle their own ordering, sometimes they’re gonna screw it up, and a particular store will run out of potatoes. You can solve that problem by taking away local control, and hiring a handful of specialists at headquarters. But if you centrally control all ordering from corporate headquarters, when you make a mistake, all the stores west of the Mississippi run out of potatoes at the same time.

So yes, the store manager in Paducah is bad at ordering produce, but his errors don’t propagate to other stores, and someone from the produce department can always pop over to the next town and grab a few crates of potatoes to hold them over until the next shipment. Can’t do that when corporate makes a similar mistake, because the consequences are so much bigger. Centralized control prevents many small errors, then in a single blunder costs more than all the small errors put together.

And this why giving primacy to exegesis works better than giving primacy to an organizing theological concept.

Examples of that centralized, top-down approach abound–it’s far more common than not. Gordon Clark is a particularly good example, because he was very clear-eyed about what he was doing. Clark talked up the importance of starting points, and pointedly said that his starting point was the sovereignty of God, and he never wavered from it–and to my eye, he didn’t, even when that meant doing violence to a particular text of Scripture in service to his big idea. The truth is that everybody does this sometimes, and most theologians do it habitually; they just pretend they don’t.  Very few are as clear and honest about it as Clark was. God bless him for his clarity.

I’m not against Big Idea thinking; it’s a good lens to look through at times. You see some things you’d have missed otherwise. The danger is that if you look through the same lens all the time–if you allow the Big Idea to become your master rather than your tool–you can no longer see clearly. You see your Big Idea in everything, whether it’s there or not. And the corollary danger is that you miss things that are right in front of you, because you’re too busy hallucinating your ideology to notice what’s actually there.

Once you do that, you’re not doing exegesis anymore.

3 Comments | Exegesis | Permalink
Posted by Tim Nichols

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