Full Contact Christianity

Believe the Works

19 September 2023

I wrote last week about the practical unity I found in Englewood that had been lacking in other places I’d called home. One of the roots of that unity was simple obedience: God wanted us to be one, so the Englewood pastors set out to see how hard they could obey. They didn’t use doctrinal differences as excuses to disobey; they knew they weren’t going to iron out every difference, and they wanted to see how much they could obey anyway. That will carry you a long way. But there were also some doctrinal components that helped the obedience along. One of the big ones was their theology of the Kingdom of God.

These guys constantly talked about the Kingdom of God. I remember at first thinking that they were being really sloppy with their Christianese terminology. I didn’t think there was (or could be) any real theology behind it. See, within my tradition at the seminary, the Kingdom was entirely future. The only time I remember anyone talking about it as a present reality, it was presented as a “mystery Kingdom,” present in some nebulous form that had no real practical outworking. In terms of ethics and everyday conduct, the only impact of the doctrine of the Kingdom was to live now in such a way as to receive rewards in the future Kingdom. (In theory, that’s a pretty good motivator, but it didn’t work very well in actual practice; sometimes people are more motivated by present animus than by any distant future reward.)

In Englewood, on the other hand, the Kingdom is a present reality. We don’t over-theologize it: a kingdom is where a king rules, so the kingdom of God is where God rules. Everywhere we obey God’s rule is a little outbreak of God’s Kingdom on earth.

The fullness of the Kingdom, the consummation of all things, is of course still future. The lion will lie down with the lamb, and we’re not there yet. “We do not yet see all things put under Him,” the author of Hebrews says, “but we see Jesus.” This Jesus once told His enemies, “If I drive out demons by the finger of God, then the kingdom of God has come upon you.” Has come. Even back in Jesus’ day, the Kingdom came — and there was the formerly demonized man in his right mind to prove it! The Kingdom will not come fully until God’s good time, but He is pleased for it to come truly in the present.

If you stop and think about it a moment, this is not such a strange thought for us. The resurrection is yet future, but Scripture teaches us to expect regular intrusions of resurrection life into the present: “If the Spirit of Him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, He who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through His Spirit who dwells in you.” That is the very essence of the Christian life. Likewise, Jesus taught us to pray for intrusions of the Kingdom: “Thy name be hallowed, Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

All this was a constant theme in Englewood. The shared prayer, worship, and unity of the Englewood churches was a conscious, deliberate reflection of the assembled throng on the last day: every tribe, tongue, and (denomi)nation. If you ask these folks why they are united, they’re going to tell you about the Kingdom of God, and how it’s coming–truly, if not yet fully–to Englewood.

Remember the instructions of Hebrews 13: “Remember those who rule over you, who have spoken the word of God to you, whose faith follow, considering the outcome of their conduct.” I found myself compelled by Hebrews 13 to reconsider my theology of the Kingdom. The Englewood pastors were living out a faith worth following. And as it turns out, they were right.

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Posted by Tim Nichols

Whose Faith Follow

12 September 2023

Once upon a time, I was a doctrine wonk. I honestly believed that if we just got the doctrine right, we would live well. My community valued correct exegesis and theology, and invested enormous effort in doing them well. As one of their fair-haired sons, and I got paid to research, write, and teach at seminary. It was a geek’s dream job, and I loved it….

<cue spooky music>

…then the whole community tore itself apart. Some of the best exegetes and theologians I knew went for each other’s throats. I’d love to say that I stayed above the fray, but I didn’t. My personal loyalties were with one side, but I also thought they were exegetically and theologically more correct…at first.

I quickly began to realize that the conflict wasn’t actually about doctrine. That’s a big claim, but it’s true. The doctrinal differences were not entirely insignificant, but there was ample room for everyone involved to continue working together. A number of close observers and secondary participants, myself included, suggested ways to move forward, but there was a problem we couldn’t solve: the principals didn’t want unity. The doctrinal difference was a smokescreen, a way to make the conflict respectable. The real problems were personal and relational: abundance of offense, lack of repentance and forgiveness, and lack of sufficient emotional maturity to address the personal conflicts.

I slowly began to realize that even if the problem were primarily doctrinal, we were handling it poorly. As I dug into Scripture looking for instructions and patterns for handling this kind of conflict, I kept coming back to Acts 15. This chapter is the first big doctrinal conflict in the Church, and the pattern that it sets upholds the unity of the Body of Christ as a cardinal doctrine and practice for Christians. I’ve written on this at great length elsewhere, so I’m not going to belabor the point here. Outward unity that is visible to observing unbelievers is Jesus’ prayer to the Father for us, it is the manner in which we win the world, and without unity right down to the practical level of seating arrangements at supper, we are not being straightforward about the gospel. It’s a big deal.

Once I had gotten this far, God moved me to Englewood, Colorado, to see unity in practice.

In Englewood, I met a group of pastors who got along. They prayed with and for each other. They blessed each other’s ministries. Every once in a while, they preached in each other’s churches. They gathered their churches once a year for a joint worship service. Were they all the same denomination? Not even close. We had Messianic Jews, Southern Baptists, Assemblies of God, Dutch Reformed, Anglican, Bible church guys, nondenominational, Missouri Synod Lutheran, and more. With far less common doctrinal basis than my seminary faculty had, the Englewood pastors created a far greater obedience than we had ever dreamed of. What was I to make of that?

“Remember those who rule over you, who have spoken the word of God to you, whose faith follow, considering the outcome of their conduct.” The author of Hebrews 13:7 is talking specifically about our relationship to our local church leaders, but the principle applies. Pay attention to the outcome of your leaders’ conduct. Follow the faith of those whose fruit is good; do not follow the faith of those whose fruit is bad.

So what did the Englewood pastors have that my seminary faculty did not? There actually are some relevant doctrinal pieces here, but that’s another post. The first and most important common element wasn’t doctrinal at all. It was obedience, straight up the middle. Jesus wanted us to be one, and they set out to find a way. They knew they weren’t going to be able to iron out every little doctrinal difference, and they were looking for ways to obey anyhow. Turns out, when we start looking for ways to obey instead of reasons not to, a lot of things are possible.

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Posted by Tim Nichols

Let Your Shame Die

5 September 2023

“For both the Sanctifier and the sanctified are all of one, for which reason He is not ashamed to call them brethren, saying, ‘I will declare Your name to my brethren; In the midst of the assembly I will sing praise to You,’ and again, ‘I will trust in Him,’ and again, ‘Here am I, and the children whom God has given Me!’ (Hebrews 2:11-13)

I’d encourage you to keep reading through the end of the chapter. The context here is Jesus’ present ministry as our High Priest before the Father.

His present ministry.

It doesn’t say He was not ashamed to die for you. It does not say that He will not be ashamed of you when you’re resurrected. It says He is not ashamed to call you His brother or sister right now.

Let that sink in: Jesus, now, is not ashamed of you, now.

When you are weak, when you ask for help, when you should but you don’t, when you sin–Jesus is not ashamed to be your brother. He is not ashamed to admit it loudly in the throne room of heaven, in front of the Father, the angels, the saints who’ve gone before us, even in front of the accuser who stands before God day and night pointing out every sin and mistake you make. He’s not embarrassed by you.

So don’t be embarrassed to ask Him for help.

2 Comments | Exegesis | Permalink
Posted by Tim Nichols

Torah as Wisdom Literature

29 August 2023

tl;dr: The Law isn’t law for us, but it *is* wisdom literature!

In my early Bible classes growing up, I was taught that there were three divisions to the Torah: moral, ceremonial, and civil. It wasn’t until seminary that I realized that as helpful as those categories sometimes can be, they are not organic to the Torah — you’ll search the Torah itself in vain for any such division. In the actual books of Moses, the Law is presented as a whole, and you can die for murder, gathering sticks on the Sabbath, or offering strange fire on the altar.

Therefore, when Paul says that we are not under the Law, he doesn’t mean just the ceremonial portions. He means the whole thing. The Law is a whole, and we are not under the Law as a rule of life, period. No part of it.

That said, Paul also says the Law is holy and just and good, and if you’re having trouble seeing that, then pray Psalm 119:18: “Open my eyes, that I might see wondrous things in Your Law.” We’re supposed to be singing the Psalms in the New Covenant anyway (see Eph. 4:18-21, Col. 3:16, Jas. 5:13), so this is a good start! Jesus Himself, and the NT writers who followed Him, all made great use of the Law in making spiritual and moral arguments. Paul does the same (see, for example, 1 Cor. 9:9, 14:34, 1 Tim. 5:18). So while we’re not under the Law as a rule of life, Paul continues to appeal to it. Why?

Because it’s holy and just and good. It reveals God’s character, and the truths thus revealed apply to our situation, even if we’re not in ancient Israel and aren’t going to do exactly what they did. So Paul borrows a command about how Israelites treat their oxen to make an analogy to how the church treats its elders.

Likewise, since we’re in possession of a civil law code created by Almighty God Himself, nothing could be sillier than to ignore it in our pursuit of the common good. He made it for Israel, not for us in the Gentile nations, but He says He made it for us to marvel at.

“Surely I have taught you statutes and judgments, just as the Lord my God commanded me, that you should act according to them in the land which you go to possess. Therefore be careful to observe them; for this is your wisdom and your understanding in the sight of the peoples who will hear all these statutes, and say, ‘Surely this great nation is a wise and understanding people.’ For what great nation is there that has God so near to it, as the Lord our God is to us, for whatever reason we may call upon Him? And what great nation is there that has such statutes and righteous judgments as are in all this law which I set before you this day?” (Deut. 4:5-8)

If we’re looking at the Law and all we have to say is, “Thank goodness we’re not under that!” then we’ve missed something crucial. We ought to be asking how we can appropriate that wisdom and apply it well in our own situations.

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Posted by Tim Nichols

Wearing the Old Jacket?

22 August 2023

I was raised with a particular picture of what the terms “old man” and “new man” mean in the Bible. We took them to refer respectively to our continuing proclivity for sin, and our new nature in Christ. We would illustrate this (literally) as two tiny people fighting it out for dominance in the human heart. As it turns out, that picture was entirely wrong.

Colossians 3:9-10 says you already have put off the old man and put on the new. Ephesians 4:20-24 says the same thing: you already put off the old man, you are being renewed in the spirit of your mind, and you already put on the new man. (The grammar in Ephesians 4 is arguable, and it would be difficult to nail down if that were the only passage we had, but the grammar in Colossians is very clear, as is Romans, and Ephesians 2:15 nails it down nicely, as we’ll see below.) Romans 6:6 says the old man was crucified with Christ.

The renewing of your mind is an ongoing process, but the old man/new man transaction is not. Moreover, the old man and the new man are not inside of you; you are inside of them. Think of it like a jacket: when you take an old jacket off and put a new one on, you aren’t still wearing the old jacket. You were in the old man, but he was crucified with Christ and you put him off, and now you have put on the New Man, and you are in Him. It is helpful here to remember that “Adam” literally means “man.” You were in the old Adam, and now you are in the new Adam, Christ. The old man is your corporate identity in Adam, and the new man is the Body of Christ, as Ephesians 2:15 pointedly says.

So if I have put off the old man, Adam, and have put on the new man Christ, why I am still drawn to sin, and I still sin regularly? Ephesians 4:20-24 gives us a hint already — our mind is being renewed. Some part of the process is still under way, which means it’s not done yet. Romans fleshes it out a little more, and the best way to see it is to start with a puzzle. At the end of Romans 7, Paul–already a believer–cries out, “Wretched man that I am — who will deliver me from this dead body?” In the beginning of Romans 12, Paul challenges us to present our bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God. So the question is, what happens between these two passages that transforms the dead body into a holy and acceptable sacrifice?

The answer is in Romans 8:10-11. Your body is dead, which is to say, unresurrected. The world still waits for the redemption of our bodies. Christ paid for it at the cross, but the reality for which He paid has not yet come to fruition. But in the meantime, the Holy Spirit is alive in you, and so God does something which is fundamentally impossible: He gives life (now!) to your dead body through the Holy Spirit. So you are a hybrid being. Your inner man is redeemed (“I delight in the law of God according to the inward man”), but your body is not yet redeemed. Your inner man is alive, and your body is dead. Therefore there is a struggle between the two. The struggle will one day be resolved by the resurrection of your body. Until then, your mind is being renewed, and God is working a miracle in your body, to allow your dead body to be a living instrument of righteousness. It makes no sense and it shouldn’t be possible, but there it is — a continual miracle.

The ascetics grasped the death of the body and the life of the spirit, but rushed to the wrong practical solution. Instead of trusting God to work the miracle of life, they attempted to be sanctified through what they could do, which was bring death. Unable to strengthen the spirit, they decided to weaken the body. But that is not the solution that Paul presents to us in the passage. The passage doesn’t say to put the body to death; it says to put the body’s deeds to death. And Colossians 2:16-23 tells us that the various artificial restrictions designed to weaken the body are actually of no value in our struggle against sin.

Of course there is a bodily discipline that profits, but it is discipline, not destruction. The ascetics got it fundamentally wrong. But we’re trying the same thing anyway — and I believe that’s why the two nature view is so popular. It gives us something to do: fight that sin nature! The only difference is, we have “spiritualized” the struggle by making it against an immaterial “sin nature” rather than our material flesh. But making the enemy less visible doesn’t change the fundamental nature of the error.

The thing most necessary for us is something which we cannot do for ourselves: for God to give life to our bodies, for God to work the continuing miracle in us that makes it possible for us to present our bodies to Him as a holy and acceptable sacrifice.

It is easier to fight against sin than it is to lean on God. (Actually, it’s not easier — it’s impossible. But it’s easier on our pride, which is the point.) We can fight against sin without involving God in any immediate way. Rather than admit my helplessness and cry out to God to deliver me right now, I can struggle, trying to whip my sins from sheer force of will. It’s a doomed effort, but it’s that or admit I can’t do it and become a mystic.

The miracle we’re talking about is not just an arrangement of mental furniture or a set of secret principles that I can choose to live by. Someone Who is not me shows up and does things in my heart that make it possible for me to live righteously, when otherwise I could not. That offends us. We hunger for the illusion that we can do it, that we have it under control. In the Protestant world, we’re more than happy to admit that we would be powerless to resist sin without the finished work of Christ in the past, so long as we are spared the humbling experience of moment-by-moment dependence on Him. But that is what we are called to: we put off Adam and put on Christ.

Only He can save us.

***

Editorial note: if the discussion in the comments below intrigues you and you’d like to hear more, read Portraits of Righteousness.

7 Comments | Functioning Supernaturalism, Mystical Union | Permalink
Posted by Tim Nichols

Donovan’s Dumb Idea

15 August 2023

Aaron Renn’s most recent newsletter reviews two popular books on manhood that approach the subject from a neopagan outlook: Jack Donovan’s The Way of Men and Ryan Landry’s Masculinity Amid Madness. Renn’s treatment is solid, and I commend it to you; this is a supplementary observation.

One of Donovan’s big points is that historically speaking, men have functioned in small, single-sex groups: hunting parties, construction crews, military squads, and so on. He’s right about that, and although contemporary male single-sex spaces are rapidly being overrun, it still happens to some extent in all the above examples, plus more modern expressions like sports teams or musical bands. Donovan argues that setting continues to be the best environment for men, proffers various prescriptions for regaining such an environment in the present day (which we should, somehow), and–here’s the howler–longs for the collapse of civilization so that roving bands of men might once again flourish on the landscape. Which is to say, he misses the whole point of all the sacrifices his ancestors made.

What those small bands of men have done, for thousands of years, is build. They built lives and homes and farms, won and married women, raised families, built towns and cities. The society that presently surrounds us is the fruit of their labors over thousands of years. That society is presently doing its best to kill its men, pursuant to killing itself, true enough. But so what?

Once upon a time–not too long ago, actually–the killers were starvation, contaminated water, large predators, infected wounds, etc. Our ancestors solved those problems. Today’s killer is a different problem entirely: a cultural autoimmune disorder. Facing a danger he doesn’t know how to navigate, Donovan’s best idea is to wipe out the accumulated contributions of generations of his ancestors, in hopes that he can spend his life going over the same familiar ground, working problems they had already solved for us. This is why you can’t trust pagans with history; they keep trying to act like it’s a circle. But the timeline is a line. History is written by God Himself, and it’s going somewhere.

The past certainly has a wealth of lessons to teach us, but the cutting edge of masculinity will never be back there in the rearview mirror. It’s here, now. The job isn’t to go back and fight hungry bears or bust sod; it’s to wrest our dying young men from the tentacles of legal weed and highly available porn, to snatch them from gears of the secularist sausage grinder that’s trying to crush them into androgynous units of consumption. Our challenge is to disciple them, to be makers and doers and inspire them to join us, to strengthen their hands in building what is true, good and beautiful–to be lights in a darkening time. We can’t do that by ignoring the past, but we can’t do that by repeating it, either.

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Posted by Tim Nichols

Trust your Feelings?

8 August 2023

I am known, in certain quarters, for my scornful response to people suggesting that we trust our feelings. I usually object by way of a Star Wars reference: “Trust your feelings” is bad advice unless you’re Luke Skywalker—and even he ended up kissing his sister, so you see what trusting your feelings gets you.

When I’m making that argument, I’m driving home the point that we have no magically prelapsarian place within us that can’t be wrong. There’s a case to be made for distrusting every part of us. You shouldn’t believe everything you think any more than you’d believe everything you feel, nor the other way round. We can and should interrogate and discipline our emotions just like we should interrogate and discipline our bodily urges and our thoughts. At the same time, there’s a ditch on both sides of the road. We can deify our God-given emotions, elevating the gift over the Giver, and that’s bad, but it’s equally bad to denigrate and ignore the gift God gives.

There’s no biblical reason to think emotions are any less trustworthy than thoughts. When Adam fell, he didn’t land catlike on his feet, so that his heart didn’t fall quite as low as his belly, his genitals (of course!) falling lowest and his brain landing uppermost, and therefore most to be trusted. No, it was a faceplant worthy of Wile E. Coyote — all of him fell all the way to rock bottom, and made an Adam-shaped hole when he hit. The project is to sanctify the whole shebang.

God made emotions, and He didn’t do it just so we’ll have something to distrust. There’s a righteous use for them, and when we’ve catechized our loves and loyalties properly and we’re using them rightly, there’s every reason to act based on emotion, just as there’s every reason to act on a properly vetted logical argument.

Jesus endured the cross for the joy set before Him. Should He have distrusted that emotion?
Love fulfills the law. Someone will say, “Love is not an emotion.” What a foolish idea! It’s not just an emotion, but it is an emotion, isn’t it?
Paul also says to let the peace of God rule in your hearts. What is that, if not emotional experience?

Someone will have noticed by now that these are the fruit of the Spirit. Yes, just so; the Spirit works in our emotions as well as our thoughts. Why are we determined to distrust the fruit of the Spirit?

1 Comment | Dust and Breath Anthropology, Healing | Permalink
Posted by Tim Nichols

“The Children God Has Given Me”

1 August 2023

I had a chance to talk with Chris Morrison of Gulfside Ministries in our continuing series on Hebrews. Our latest conversation covered 2:5-18. Hope it’s helpful to you!

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Posted by Tim Nichols

Those Little Old Ladies

30 July 2023

“We have to cultivate a certain kind of character in order to read well. It’s not just a matter of applying hermeneutical rules or a typological framework; it’s about the kind of person you are. That’s why the little old ladies at your church who’ve never been to a hermeneutics class in their life, but have spent a life in the word, spent a life in prayer, have suffered and seen the Lord deliver them from suffering—those little old ladies understand so much of the Bible that you don’t. Because they are disciples, and they know that they are encountering God in the pages of Scripture.”

-Peter Leithart on hermeneutics

1 Comment | Chrestomathy, Hermeneutics | Permalink
Posted by Tim Nichols

Two Objections

25 July 2023

The previous post addressed the continuing role of imprecatory psalms in the Christian’s life. I regularly hear two objections to this.

The first is “but where’s the specific New Testament command to pray these kinds of prayers specifically?” This one is really just a matter of basic reasoning. If you’re commanded to sing the psalms, then the different sorts of psalms are necessarily included. Demanding a specific verse for the imprecatory subset of the psalms is like saying “I see the verses where Paul prohibits stealing in general, but where’s the verse about boosting cars?” What’s wanted here is not another verse, but a course in elementary logic.

To my eye, that one is more an excuse than an argument. If the commands to sing the psalms and the New Testament examples of imprecations don’t convince someone, then more verses aren’t likely to do the job either.

The second, more substantive, objection is that praying such prayers would be vengeful, and God forbids vengeance in the New Testament: “Beloved, do not avenge yourselves, but rather give place to wrath; for it is written, ‘Vengeance is Mine, I will repay,’ says the Lord. Therefore ‘If your enemy is hungry, feed him; If he is thirsty, give him a drink; For in so doing you will heap coals of fire on his head.'” (Rom. 12:17-20)

This is one of those cases where you have to pay close attention to what the passage actually says. Romans says you may not take vengeance for yourself, but pay attention to the rationale Paul gives. God doesn’t say “Vengeance is bad.” God says “Vengeance is Mine” — and then He says He’ll repay.

Now, when God says that He’ll do something, do we usually take that as grounds not to pray about that thing? Or as grounds to pray for it? He promises to meet our needs, and we pray: “Give us this day our daily bread.” He promises to take vengeance — is there a reason we shouldn’t ask Him to do what He said He would? Paul doesn’t seem to think so: “Alexander the coppersmith did me much harm; may the Lord repay him according to his deeds.”

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Posted by Tim Nichols