Thinking Christianly

It is often alleged that there are many errors and contradictions in the Bible. In a previous piece (“When Was Jesus Born?”), I addressed the issue of an alleged error in the Bible: the time of Jesus’ birth, particularly with respect to the census conducted by Quirinius, the governor of Syria. Here, I will deal with a supposed contradiction: the different genealogies of Jesus, found in Matthew 1:1-17 and Luke 3:23-38, respectively.

The Nature of Contradictions

Before looking at the text, we should take time to think about what a contradiction actually is. According to philosopher Simon Blackburn, a contradiction is, “The conjunction of a proposition and its negation. The law of non-contradiction provides that no such conjunction can be true: not (p & not-p).”[1] In other words, a contradiction is when one says that something is and is not. It is impossible to be a bachelor and a married man (a not-bachelor, if you will). However, philosophers often allow more nuance into what is called the law of non-contradiction. As Aristotle famously writes, “It is impossible for the same attribute at once to belong and not to belong to the same thing and in the same relation.” [2] So, turning our attention to the two genealogies of Jesus found in the Bible, we can say that Joseph is Jesus’ father and not Jesus’ father, and this is not a logical contradiction. How is that possible? The ways that Joseph is father to Jesus and is not-father to Jesus differ in relation, or sense. Joseph, Mary’s husband, is Jesus’ father in the sense that he raised Jesus and served as his human father. We would say he adopted Jesus. Joseph is not Jesus’ father in the sense that he is not his biological father. He is not Jesus’ true father: the Father, the first person of the Trinity.

Differences in Matthew 1:1-17 and Luke 3:23-38

With all of that in mind, let’s turn our attention to Matthew 1:1-17 and Luke 3:23-38. When looking at the two, there are clearly differences: Matthew starts from Abraham and, going in chronological order, ends with Jesus. There appear to be forty-one different names (if we don’t county any names twice, and if we don’t include Mary). David tells us, in verse 17, that these names represent a total of 42 generations: fourteen from Abraham to David, fourteen from David to the Babylonian exile, and fourteen from that exile to Jesus.

Luke, on the other hand, gives his genealogy in reverse chronological order, starting with Jesus and going all the way back to Adam. His list contains seventy-seven names, with no discernible set of groupings.

A closer look yields something else: there are different names in these two genealogies. Both lists have some commonalities (such as the Abraham-Isaac-Jacob-Judah-Perez-Hezron and Boaz-Obed-Jesse-David sections). But between David and Jesus, there are thirty-eight names that differ. It should be obvious that, if both of these genealogies are intended to be true in the same sense, we have a logical contradiction. However, if they are different in sense (or relation, to use Aristotle’s term), then there is no logical contradiction.

The Different Purposes of Matthew’s and Luke’s Genealogies

Before we look at a very likely solution to this problem, we must acknowledge that these genealogies serve slightly different functions in these two Gospels. Though there are four Gospels in the Bible, all telling the same general story of Jesus, they differ in details, structure, and themes. These differences do not mean they contradict each other; rather, the four Gospels complement one another. This fourfold depiction of Jesus enriches our understanding of who he is and what he did for us.

Matthew starts his Gospel with this sentence: “The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham.” Interestingly, the second word in the original Greek is geneseōs, which might intentionally evoke the beginning of the Bible, the book of Genesis, along with its tôl^edôt formula: “These are the generations…” (Gen. 2:4; 5:1; 6:9; 10:1; 11:10, 27; 25:12, 19; 36:1; 37:2).The Gospels of Mark and John also recall the beginning of Genesis.

More clearly, Matthew wants us to know that Jesus is the son of Abraham and the son of David. In other words, he wants us to know that Jesus is the long-awaited offspring promised to Abraham (Gen. 12:7; 13:15; 17:8; cf. Gal. 3:16) and the long-awaited son of David (2 Sam. 7:12-16). Jesus is the fulfillment of the covenant God made with Abraham, and he is the fulfillment of the covenant God made with David. This is part of Matthew’s emphasis on fulfillment (Matt. 1:22; 2:15, 17, 23; 3:15; 4:14; 5:17; 8:17; 12:17; 13:14, 35; 21:4; 26:54, 56; 27:9). Matthew is highlighting the fact that Jesus is the Christ, the Messiah.

Matthew’s arrangement of this genealogy is clearly intentional, for he eliminates some names. In verse 8, he moves from Joram to Uzziah, though we know from 1-2 Kings and 1-2 Chronicles that Ahaziah, Joash, and Amaziah reigned in between Joram and Uzziah. Matthew is clearly doing this for a purpose. (We should note that “was the father of” [egennēsen] can be used of forefathers, such as grandfathers and great-grandfathers.) Perhaps it is to accommodate his three groups of fourteen generations. As Craig Blomberg explains, “Even though the Old Testament mentions several additional ancestors, Matthew arranges his names into three groups of fourteen, with David as the fourteenth. In Hebrew the gematria (the sum of the numerical equivalents of the consonants in a word) for David was 14 (D+V+D = 4+6+4). Given the popularity of various creative uses of gematria in ancient Judaism, Matthew may well have employed this device to stylize his genealogy and stress Jesus as Son of David.”[3]

Vern Poythress observes something else in Matthew’s genealogy: there are some alternate spellings of the names of kings. This is not an error, as it preserves the same referents (the same individuals) and, as anyone who has read the Bible knows, often people have different names by which they are known. But Matthew might have had deeper theological purposes for these spellings:

By spelling “Asa” as “Asaph,” Matthew refers to king Asa, the son of Abijah; at the same time, on top of this main connection, it creates a literary allusion to or reminiscence of Asaph, of the tribe of Levi, the head of the Levitical singers (1 Chron. 25:1). This allusion subtly suggests that Jesus is not only literally the heir to the kingly line of David, through king Asa, but figuratively and spiritually heir to the Levitical line of priestly activity. By spelling “Amon” as “Amos,” Matthew refers to king Amon, the son of Manasseh and at the same time creates a literary allusion to Amos the prophet. It suggests that Jesus is spiritually the heir to the Old Testament prophets.[4]

This may seem odd to us, but we have no right to demand that Matthew or the other biblical authors write history the way that we would. Any written history is shaped by an author for a particular purpose. This is true of modern biographies as well as ancient ones. The writers of the Gospels shaped their stories according to theological purposes. This does not make their writing any less true or historical.

Luke, on the other hand, does not begin his Gospel with a genealogy. He places his genealogy between two important events in Jesus’ life: his baptism and his temptations in the wilderness. Jesus was baptized to identify himself with sinful humanity, which originated with Adam and Eve and their original sin. This event may also recall the beginning of Jesus: the three persons of the Trinity are present (the Father, the Word [=Jesus], the Spirit). Jesus is, in various ways, depicted in the New Testament as the inauguration of a new creation, one without sin. So, just as the Spirit hovered over the waters at creation (Gen. 1:2), he descends on Jesus while he is in the water of baptism. Just as God declares his creation to be “very good” (Gen. 1:31), the Father says of Jesus, “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased” (Luke 3:22).

After his genealogy, Luke writes of how Jesus was tempted in the wilderness by Satan. Adam and Eve succumbed to Satan’s temptation in the garden of Eden (Gen. 3:1-6). Israel gave into temptation many times in their wilderness wanderings, between the time of the exodus out of Egypt and their entrance into the Promised Land (see the book of Numbers, in particular). Jesus, however, as the true Son of God, did not sin when tempted. It seems that Luke is showing that Jesus is not only the hope of Israel, but the hope of the world. Jesus is the one who will crush Satan’s head (Gen. 3:15; cr. Rom. 16:20).

According to I. Howard Marshall, “the point of the genealogy is rather to show that Jesus has his place in the human race created by God. The fact that the genealogy is carried back to Adam, as the son of God, may perhaps point a contrast between this disobedient son of God and the obedient Son of God, Jesus.” [5]

A Solution to an Alleged Contradiction

Some theologians have claimed that Matthew presents Joseph’s genealogy, whereas Luke presents Mary’s. This explanation is unconvincing, however, since both genealogies lead to Joseph. The more likely explanation, one that suits both the Gospel writers’ respective purposes, is that Matthew is presenting a genealogy of the royal heritage of Jesus and Luke is presenting Jesus’ biological genealogy. (Actually, it’s Joseph’s biological genealogy. As Darrell Bock observes, “In the first century, legal status depended on the father, so the most natural way to take the reference to Joseph is as a genealogical reference.” [6]) If Jesus is the true Son of David, the true King, he would be the rightful heir to the throne. So, Matthew indicates this with his genealogy. If Jesus is the second Adam (1 Cor. 15:45) and the offspring of Abraham, he must be a legal descendant. So, Luke indicates that.

How can these genealogies diverge? How can Jesus be related to Adam, Abraham, and David, on the hand, while the royal accession genealogy found in Matthew have different names from that of Luke? Shouldn’t these genealogies be one and the same?

Gerald Bray, a British theologian, demonstrates how this could work by using an example from his homeland:

To understand just how complex genealogies can be, we need look no further than that of the British royal family. Queen Elizabeth II can trace her ancestry back more or less directly to the accession of George I in 1714, but there is not a straightforward succession from father to son. When we go back to the Tudors (1485-1603) and Stuarts (1603-1714), we find that of the twelve rulers they produced between them, the present queen is descended from only two—Henry VII (1485-1509) and James I (1603-1625). Ironically, although she cannot claim the first Elizabeth as her ancestor, she can include Elizabeth’s great rival, Mary Queen of Scots, whom Elizabeth I executed for her pretensions to the throne of England! Legal and physical descent are very different, and if we do not know the details, we might easily think that one (or both ) of the competing genealogies had been made up. We do not have the background information we need to decide what the different genealogies of Jesus mean, but the British example is a warning that we must be careful not to draw conclusions that may seem obvious on the surface but that are actually quite mistaken. [7]

Bray includes a footnote to that passage: “Of the eleven monarchs since 1714, George II was succeeded by his grandson (1760), George IV by his brother (1830), William IV by his niece (1837), and Edward VIII by his brother (1936).”[8] The point Bray is making is that biological and royal ancestry are not always one and the same. This historical example demonstrates that the suggestion that Matthew and Luke are using two different genealogies—both true in their own senses—is possible.

If this solution is true, then the royal and biological genealogies converge upon Joseph because the one with the royal heritage (Jacob, listed as Joseph’s father in Matt. 1:16) died childless, and his next of kin would be Joseph. It is possible that Jacob and Heli (Joseph’s actual father, according to Luke 3:23) were related or otherwise very close. Perhaps if Heli had died, Joseph would have become Jacob’s heir. An alternate view here is that Matthan, the father of Jacob, father of Joseph (Matt. 1:15-16) is the same person as Matthat, father of Heli, father of Joseph (Luke 3:23-24). Perhaps Matthan/Matthat have two different fathers listed (Eleazar in Matthew; Levi in Luke) because of a levirate marriage,[9] in which case Eleazar, heir to the royal throne, died with child. Eleazar’s brother Levi then married his widow, and they had Matthan/Matthat as a son, who was the biological child of Levi and the royal heir of Eleazar. Given that scenario, then if Jacob, son of Matthan/Matthat, died without child, his nephew, Joseph, son of Heli, would become his heir. These are but two possible (albeit complicated) ways that these genealogies could converge.[10]

We may ever know exactly why Matthew and Luke use differing genealogies. There may be another proposal that makes better sense of the evidence, or more evidence may come to light in the future. However, there is no reason to assume that we have found a real contradiction here. As is so often the case, the Gospels present different information that complements, not contradicts.

A final thought: if these genealogies are so problematic, if one of them is wrong, or one or both are fabricated, would not the earliest Christians have edited one genealogy to match the other? Wouldn’t those who gathered the Gospels together have made them to match? If you assume that things in the Bible are simply made up, why wouldn’t Christians make things up so that they harmonize more easily? The fact that these genealogies are, on the surface, at odds is evidence against the claim that the Gospels are legends or fabrications.

Notes:

[1] Simon Blackburn, Oxford Dictionary of Philosophy, 2^nd ed. rev. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), 78.

^[2] Aristotle, Metaphysics, 1005b 19-20, in Aristotle in 23 Volumes, vols.17, 18, translated by Hugh Tredennick (Medford, MA: Cambridge, MA, Harvard University Press; London, William Heinemann Ltd., 1933, 1989).

[3] Craig L. Blomberg, Jesus and the Gospels: An Introduction and Survey, 2^nd ed. (Nashville: B&H Academic, 2009), 233.

[4] Vern Sheridan Poythress, Inerrancy and the Gospels: A God-Centered Approach to the Challenges of Harmonization (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2012), 70-71.

^[5] I. Howard Marshall, The Gospel of Luke, The New International Greek Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1978), 161.

^[6] Darrell L. Bock, Luke 1:1–9:50, Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 1994), 352. I. Howard Marshall adds, “From the legal point of view, Joseph was the earthly father of Jesus, and there was no other way of reckoning his descent” (The Gospel of Luke, 157).

[7] Gerald Bray, God Is Love: A Biblical and Systematic Theology (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2012), 565.

[8] Ibid., 565 n. 26.

[9] Details of a levirate marriage are found in Deut. 25:5-10. Vv. 6-7 state, “If brothers dwell together, and one of them dies and has no son, the wife of the dead man shall not be married outside the family to a stranger. Her husband’s brother shall go in to her and take her as his wife and perform the duty of a husband’s brother to her. And the first son whom she bears shall succeed to the name of his dead brother, that his name may not be blotted out of Israel.” This way, the inheritance and legacy of the man who died without a son could continue.

[10] For more information, see D. A. Carson, Matthew, in The Expositor’s Bible Commentary, rev. ed. (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2010), 9:88-94.

I have begun preaching a sermon series titled, “Who Is Jesus?” In this series, I will address common to objections to the biblical presentation of Jesus. Instead of double-posting all that material, I’ll simply direct you to the website of West Bridgewater Baptist Church.

Can We Trust Our Hearts?

Yesterday at church, in our morning Bible study (a.k.a., “Sunday school”), we had a bit of a side discussion on whether all people have an inherent sense of right or wrong. In other words, do people have a conscience that infallibly leads them to a knowledge of good and evil, whether or not they act on that knowledge? Do people know that something is wrong even as they do it?

According to the Bible, people do have a conscience, some sense of what is right and wrong. It would seem that Paul indicates as much in Romans 2:14-16 (ESV):

¹⁴ For when Gentiles, who do not have the law, by nature do what the law requires, they are a law to themselves, even though they do not have the law. ¹⁵ They show that the work of the law is written on their hearts, while their conscience also bears witness, and their conflicting thoughts accuse or even excuse them ¹⁶ on that day when, according to my gospel, God judges the secrets of men by Christ Jesus.

The Gentiles did not have the benefit of receiving the Old Testament, God’s authoritative revelation given through and to the Israelites. Yet they have a conscience, which will excuse them (if they follow it) or accuse them (if they do not). Though the Gentiles did not receive the “oracles of God” (Romans 3:2 ESV), they, along with every human being, has some knowledge of God, because he has revealed himself (in a general way) through his creation (Romans 1:18-20). Yet that is not the end of the story.

Because of the presence of sin in our lives, we have suppressed that knowledge of God and our hearts are wayward. They are no longer completely trustworthy. Paul writes in Romans 1:21-23 (ESV):

²¹ For although they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts were darkened. ²² Claiming to be wise, they became fools, ²³ and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images resembling mortal man and birds and animals and creeping things.

The human heart chases after false objects of worship. What we worship determines how truthful we will be. Our hearts will try to justify anything if we are worship a false god, an idol. Therefore, we must be careful about following our hearts. Thus, Jeremiah writes:

⁹  The heart is deceitful above all things,
and desperately sick;
who can understand it? (Jeremiah 17:9 ESV)

I made the comment in our class that when people say, “Follow your heart,” they could be offering up very bad advice. Then, I added, “‘To thine own self be true’ is dangerous.” These words, which come from Shakespeare’s Hamlet, are often ripped out of context to indicate that following one’s desires, one’s heart, is the right course of action. Yet we would never say to the drug addict or the pedophile, “To thine own self be true.”

Failed Moral Reasoning

Last night, I happened to glance through the Sunday edition of the Boston Globe. I happened on item in the Globe Magazine. It was a story about how a Republican state representative in Massachusetts changed his mind on same-sex marriage. Richard Ross had once voted for same-sex marriage, then later against it, apparently due to the influence of his Christian wife. Now, in 2007, the Massachusetts Legislature was voting on a proposed constitutional amendment that would ban same-sex marriage. Those who favored same-sex marriage needed his vote against the amendment. What would Ross do?

Ross had decided to vote in favor of it. The article suggests this would be the expedient vote for Ross, to preserve domestic tranquility and perhaps also his funeral home business in his conservative town of Wrentham. Shortly before the vote, however, Ross met with Patrick Guerriero, a former Republican state representative who is gay. Guerriero happened to ask about the clients Ross served in his funeral home, which led Ross to recall something his father, the original proprietor, once told him. The senior Ross told his son not to judge those who came in the door. This memory was enough to reduce Ross to tears and led him to change his mind. In the words of the article: “As he grappled with his decision, what came to mind was a quote from Hamlet that his mother loved: ‘To thine own self be true.'”

Unfortunately, this is what passes for moral reasoning these days. There is no debate about whether we should redefine marriage. For, that is the issue. It is not a matter of marriage equality, but marriage redefinition; instead of regarding marriage as a covenant union between one man and one woman–the definition given by God and affirmed by Jesus (Genesis 2:24; Matthew 19:4-6)–we are now entertaining the idea of marriage as a union between any two people in love.

Furthermore, there seems to be little debate about whether it would be right to redefine marriage. And when people engage in such a debate, people rarely reflect on the basis or standard for their moral reasoning. Why is something right? According to what standard and what authority? Instead of a rigorous debate, we are left with assertions: “It seems right.” “We want this.”

Much more can be said about the issue of marriage. My point now is simply to say, “To thine own self be true,” interpreted in this manner, is no reliable moral guide. Jiminy Cricket once sang, “Always let your conscience be your guide.” But what if your conscience is distorted by wrong desires and, ultimately, a wrong object of worship? Do we really want to make laws according to everyone’s subject experience of “conscience”? Do we want Jiminy Cricket to be our moral philosopher?

The True Source of Morality

This moral quandary is why we need an objective source of moral authority, revealed to us by the One who knows all things, including what is right and what is wrong. That is why God has given us the Bible. It is external and objective. Yes, our interpreting the Bible is a subjective experience, but that doesn’t mean we can’t arrive at truth. There are moral imperatives in the Bible that are abundantly clear, particularly with respect to marriage and sexuality.

One more thing needs to be said: not only do we need an objective source of truth, but we need new hearts so as not to distort that truth. We need hearts that are purified of their wrong desires. We need hearts that are true in order to arrive at truth, so that we do not reinterpret Scripture to our own ends, whatever they might be. And when people come to Christ, they receive new heart. God’s promise to purify his people’s hearts is found in Ezekiel 36:25-26 (ESV):

²⁵ I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you shall be clean from all your uncleannesses, and from all your idols I will cleanse you. ²⁶ And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh.

This promise is given through the Holy Spirit’s work in the hearts of Christians. Jesus alluded to this passage when he told Nicodemus about the need to be “born again” (John 3:3). Through the Holy Spirit, we are given new desires and new eyes to see the truth.

“To thine own self be true”? No. Rather: be true to God. “Let God be true, and every man a liar” (Romans 3:4 NIV).

As the new pastor of West Bridgewater Baptist Church, I am beginning with a sermon series on the church. My goal is to examine some key passages on the nature and purpose of the church. The series won’t be exhaustive, but it will touch on some important issues that the church should consider. Below are sermon recordings and, in most cases, sermon manuscripts. All sermon recording are in mp3 format. To download sermons, click on the title, then right-click the media player and select “save as” or “save video as.” All manuscripts are in PDF format and can be read online and/or saved.

1. The Church Is the Temple of God (October 26, 2014)

The main text is 1 Peter 2:4-12.

Manuscript: The Church Is the Temple of God 10.26.14

2. The Church Is the New Humanity (November 2, 2014)

The main text is Ephesians 2:11-22.

Manuscript: The Church Is the New Humanity 11.2.14

3. The Church Displays God’s Wisdom (November 9, 2014)

The main text is Ephesians 3:1-13, though I used many other texts.

4. The Church Is the Body of Christ (November 16, 2014)

The main text is Ephesians 4:1-16.

Manuscript: The Church Is the Body of Christ 11.16.14

5. The Church Is the Bride of Christ (November 23, 2014)

The main text is Ephesians 5:22-33.

Manuscript: The Church Is the Bride of Christ 11.23.14

6. The Church Has the Ministry of Reconciliation (November 30, 2014)

The main text is 2 Corinthians 5:11-21.

Manuscript: The Church Has the Ministry of Reconciliation 11.30.14

7. The Church is the Pillar and Foundation of the Truth (December 7, 2014)

The main text is 1 Timothy 3:14-16.

Recently, I had the opportunity to participate in the launch of Eric Metaxas’s new book, Miracles (New York: Dutton, 2014). What that means was that I received a free copy of the book prior to its official publication date (last Tuesday), and was invited to help promote it.

In case you don’t know Eric Metaxas, he is one funny and talented fellow. I first encountered him when I saw his performance at the 2012 National Prayer Breakfast (I highly recommend watching the video). I have also seen his Socrates in the City interviews. He is also the author of Amazing Grace, a biography of William Wilberforce, and Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy. Miracles is the first Metaxas book I’ve read.

Purpose and Structure of the Book

Metaxas wants his readers to believe in the possibility of miracles. He wants them to believe they can happen, to trust the God who works miracles, and to understand how they can change their lives.

The book is structured in two parts. The part, “The Question of Miracles,” is a defense of the very possibility of miracles. The second, larger part, “The Miracle Stories,” relates miracle stories experienced by, or told to, Metaxas. In his own words: “I decided to limit the book only to the stories of people I knew personally” (xi). These people, in Metaxas’s view, are trustworthy. Additionally, “I vetted these stories and all their details as carefully as possible” (xii). I’m not sure if that is true, as we’ll see below, but Metaxas wants the reader to know he’s not including questionable stories from questionable characters.

The Question of Miracles

The first part of the book is an attempt to persuade the reader that miracles are possible. Metaxas here argues against a materialistic, naturalistic worldview–one that denies the existence of the immaterial and the supernatural, not to mention the miraculous. Miracles, in Metaxas’s view, are God breaking into space and time to communicate to us. “Miracles are signs, and like all signs, they are never about themselves; they’re about whatever they are pointing toward. Miracles point to something beyond themselves. But to what? To God himself” (16).

Much of Metaxas’s case rests on this argument: “[I]f we believe that God created the universe out of nothing–ex nihilo, to use the famous Latin phrase–how can we possibly quibble over small miracles like turning water into wine or giving sight to a man born blind? Believing that God could create the universe but could not perform any infinitely smaller miracle is illogical” (12). Miracles, by their nature, are not repeated occurrences that can be tested by experimental science. They are historical events, reported by eyewitnesses. In the case of the eyewitnesses of the Bible, Metaxas thinks we should give them the benefit of the doubt. “Shouldn’t we give the people in the past the same respect and dignity we would like people to give us?” (18). People in the past reported miracles not because they were searching for some religious explanation for how things normally worked, but because something amazing happened, an event that could be explained by natural causes, one intended by God to communicate something.

Metaxas then shows that science and miracles are not at odds. Relying heavily on the Oxford mathematician, John Lennox, Metaxas states that “the realm of the miraculous is by definition beyond the scope of science,” and “The world of scientific inquiry does not encompass all rational inquiry” (26, original emphasis). In other words, science has its limits.

In the chapters that follow, Metaxas explores the fine tuning of the universe–the observation that the universe seems to be designed to support human life on Earth. He also sees that the Big Bang theory, which implies creation ex nihilo, supports the idea that the very existence of the universe, as well as life within it, is miraculous.

He also takes up the question of why God heals some and not others. Why does God perform some miracles, in which he heals or protects, yet not eradicate all evil, healing all, protecting all? In other words, why does God allow suffering. Metaxas’s answer: “as much as we wish to avoid suffering, there is more to life than merely avoiding suffering” (65). Suffering must have a purpose. (Interestingly, in the same chapter, he makes the observation that not everything supernatural is good, and that there are angels and demons–this is an important issue that he seems to forget later on as he presents miracle stories. We have to entertain the possibility that some things that appear “miraculous” may not come from the hand of the Lord.)

In Metaxas’s view, many people today do not believe in miracles because they think reported miracles of the past are myths. Now, we know better. We know certain things are not possible because scientists have taught us that much. Yet this is a fairly arrogant claim. “Every culture and era flatters itself that we are the finally seeing what previous eras and cultures could not see because of their own blinders and ideological lenses. . . . What is it about human pride that insists our generation is the one to finally see the unmediated and unadulterated truth?” (74).

Metaxas finishes the first part of the book by looking at some miracles of the Bible, including the resurrection of Jesus.

Before I look at the content of the second half of the book, I want to make some commentary on the first half. Metaxas makes some excellent points about science and faith. However, the first half of the book is marred by three problems. One, Metaxas does not provide citations for quotes, facts taken from books, and even Bible passages. If he is intention is to persuade skeptics, he should have included some footnotes. Two, he makes a few errors. He confuses 1 Kings for 2 Kings, and vice versa (86, 98), which could be a couple slips of the pen. But, more seriously, he confuses dispensationalism (a particular way of reading the Bible with a certain perspective on the end times) for cessationism (the idea that miraculous spiritual gifts such as speaking and tongues and prophesying are no longer in effect) (72-73). In fact, I think he is confused on what most cessationists believe. That’s a major theological error, which created some doubt in mind as to the author’s ability to make any theological points on miracles. A good editor would have caught these mistakes. My third critique is that the first part of the book felt a little disjointed and didn’t go far enough in providing a philosophical case for miracles. I think Metaxas expects a popular audience, not one steeped in philosophy, science, or apologetics. Still, other popular books have proper citations and make their case, so why not do the same here?

The Miracle Stories

In my opinion, it is the second part of the book that is its heart and soul. Over two hundred pages are devoted to various miracles stories relayed to or, in the case of at least two, experienced by, the author. The stories are presented in various groupings: conversion miracles, physical healing miracles, inner healing miracles, angelic appearances, and assorted other miracles that don’t fit neatly into other categories.

Instead of trying to summarize all these stories, I’ll offer some thoughts:

The conversion stories were all encouraging to read. I suppose all the miracle stories were encouraging, and that is Metaxas’s point.

The stories are told clearly and fairly well, though I was expecting more of Metaxas’s signature wit, which was largely missing throughout this book. (It is at this point that I should report the funniest line of the book, which comes from the first part: “For these people [ones who love miracles but don’t want to use reason or examine evidence], exactly what one believes in matters less than belief itself, and they don’t want to get too close to the details of it, lest they eff the ineffable and the fairy dust be blown away” (13, original emphasis).

I personally found the story about story of April Hernandez, her abortion, and subsequent experience of forgiveness the most moving story. It was told with honesty, compassion (yet not condoning of the sin), and hope.

The most amazing story was of a man named Hector who was supposedly healed of AIDS. Hector was a prisoner who was wasting away. Another prisoner, Cisco, prayed for his healing and, though Hector was about to die, he is reported to be healed of AIDS. I have no doubt that this is possible. Yet what I find strange is that though Hector was under the care of doctors (including a Dr. Matthews), in a specific hospital (Kings County Hospital), at a certain time in history, we have no indication that Metaxas actually contacted the prison, the hospital, or the doctors to vet the story (remember he said he personally vetted each story). I don’t find it incredible that God could heal a man of AIDS. But I find it hard to believe that this story didn’t make national headlines.

One more note: I was very disappointed that Metaxas tells the story of a Catholic woman who prays to her deceased husband for something, a request that apparently was answered. I have no doubt that this happened, or that the thing for which the woman asked occurred, but there was no theological commentary. Should we believe that God answered the prayer in spite of the woman’s bad theology? Or could this possibly be activity of demons? (Remember the point above about how not everything supernatural is of the Lord.) Metaxas doesn’t say.

The theology expressed throughout this book is one that is very subjective and not one anchored in Scripture, God’s objective revelation to us all. I fear that Metaxas inadvertently presents a theology of revelation that is highly individualized, as if we should expect that God will communicate to all of us through miracles. Yet I know many Christians who have never experienced the miraculous. I, for one, have not. I do not view my experience of God as insufficient or lacking because of that. Yet I fear that readers of Miracles would come to expect that they, too, should experience miracles. But what if they don’t? Will they be disappointed?

The Bible contains many miracle stories that, I have no doubt, are true. But the Bible doesn’t indicate that everyone in this age will experience miracles. We should pray for God to heal, and we should pray for God to provide, but we are not promised that God will supernaturally hear or protect. Unfortunately, these issues are not addressed by Metaxas.

To reiterate the positive, however: this book presents some good thoughts on the possibility of miracles in a scientific age, and it provides the reader many interesting and encouraging stories. It provides some rational for believing in the possibility of miracles. Those who would be turned off by footnotes, end notes, or longer, more technical arguments will find this book easier to read. Readers looking for encouragement may find this book to be helpful. Those looking for a better defense and/or theology of miracles will have to look elsewhere.

Introduction

When death penetrates our humdrum existence—when it bursts the bubble of our daily routine of work, errands, chores, diversions, entertainments, eating, and sleeping—we start to think.

But we try not to think about death much at all. There’s no time for such thought. We’re a click away from another channel to view, another site to surf. Blaise Pascal, the French mathematician and philosopher, once wrote,

As men are not able to fight against death, misery, ignorance, they have taken it into their heads, in order to be happy, not to think of them at all.

Despite these miseries, man wishes to be happy, and only wishes to be happy, and cannot wish not to be so. But how will he set about it? To be happy he would have to make himself immortal; but, not being able to do so, it has occurred to him to prevent himself from thinking of death.^[1]

Additionally, though we are surrounded by the news of someone’s death, by violent digital simulations of gore and explosions, we don’t really see death all that much. How many of us have seen someone take their last breath? Unless you’re a doctor, a nurse, a police officer, a soldier on the front lines, an EMT, or an undertaker, you probably don’t have contact with dying people and corpses, do you?

Yet when someone we know dies—whether that person was beloved or simply who lived and breathed in the same circles we inhabit—we must think of death. We think of the loss of that particular life, but we invariably think about our own looming death—unless we distract ourselves from thinking that long. Those thoughts give rise to troubling questions. Why do we die? What is the meaning of death? What, if anything, happens after death? Where can hope be found? I intend to answer these questions here.

Why Do We Die?

Whatever your own personal experience with death is, if death has come close to you, you surely recognize that death is a damned thing. I don’t say that lightly. Death is literally part of condemnation, the price to pay for sin. It hurts. It stings.

Christianity claims that we die because of the presence of sin in the world. God first made a perfect world, a world without death, disease, and pain. But when the first humans turned their backs on God and disobeyed him, the presence and power of sin entered into the world. There is a power at work within us—the power of sin—that gives us disordered hearts. We often desire things that are contrary to what God wants. And part of God’s judgment on sin involves our physical deaths. God told the first human after he sinned, “Cursed is the ground because of you; in pain you shall eat of it all the days of your life; thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you; and you shall eat the plants of the field. By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread, till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; for you are dust, and to dust you shall return” (Gen. 3:17-19). In other words, life is going to be difficult; work will be hard; and eventually you will die. Unfortunately for us, we will all face that same fate. As Ecclesiastes 3:20 states, “All go to one place. All are from the dust, and to dust all return.”

I realize that some people don’t believe this is why we die. Some people don’t think there is a God. They think we are the products of chance. We just happen to exist, and we have evolved from animals, and, like all animals, we die. Yet if this is so, why does death bother us so much? Why do we fear it? Why do we often avoid talking about our own deaths? If death is such a natural part of the world, why does it feel like an alien intruder? Why does the news of someone’s death produce such indignation and grief?

Many individuals place their trust in science. But science can’t tell us why we die. Science can tell us how we die. Science can tell us what happens at the cellular level as we’re aging and dying, but it can’t tell us the meaning of death. We need someone to reveal the meaning to us, or else we’re just guessing.

What Is the Meaning of Death?

If you assume that after death lies nothing but nonexistence, you may not be bothered by your own death. I’m not sure I have ever met someone convinced that death is nothing but a long, dark sleep from which you will never awake. If that were so, our own deaths might not seem so bad. It would simply be nothing at all. It’s hard to say whether nonexistence is better or worse than existence. What would it be like to cease to exist? Whatever it is, we wouldn’t know. But there would be no pain, no agony, and no memories of any kind.

However, even if someone were to hold consistently to such a position, it does make sense to mourn the loss of those we love. After all, we’re still alive, and even if the deceased cease to exist, and are therefore not in pain, we still miss their presence in our lives. To mourn the loss of a relative or friend is understandable, regardless of what you believe regarding the possibility of the afterlife.

But we also respond to the deaths of strangers with a bit of indignation. This is certainly the case when there’s a shooting at a school, some terrible natural disaster, or a terrorist act. Now, if death is nothing, and those people are essentially nothing to us because they were not a part of our lives, why do we care? It makes little difference to our lives. Are we worried that something similar could happen to us? Is that it? I think there’s more to it.

If we’re honest, we fear death. Most of us try never to think about it. We distract ourselves with work, family obligations, hobbies, or frivolous entertainment in order not to think about death and the big questions that are often associated with death. Those big questions include: What is the meaning of life? What is truly important? What happens after death? Why are we here? I think most of us don’t have a philosophy that can answer such questions, so we don’t ask them.

But the way we react to death—the specter of our own death, the deaths of loved ones, and the deaths of strangers halfway around the world—indicates that we know death is wrong. It’s evil. It is simply not the way things are supposed to be. There is something very unnatural about death, even though we know all living things die.

I think the biblical view of death is the one that matches our experience. Like I said before, death is a damned thing. That is, the reason why we die is because of the presence of sin in the world. Sin is not just doing something “bad,” though it is that. Sin is a power. It is at work in our hearts and our minds to make us desire and think things that are contrary to what God has commanded and what he desires. Because of this power, and because we act on these urges and thoughts, the result is everything bad we experience: disease, decay, fighting, a lack of peace, natural disasters, and, yes, death. Part of the punishment for our rebellion against God is death.

Rebellion? Yes. “But I don’t rebel against God; I don’t even believe he exists!” Exactly. God made us to worship him, to know him and love him and make much of him. That is the purpose of our existence. That is what is meant when we are told that we are made in the image and likeness of God (Genesis 1:26). But many of us go around acting (and even believing) like he doesn’t exist. If we aren’t fulfilling our purpose, we are in rebellion.

Imagine a hammer refusing to drive nails into wood. You would say that’s a rebellious hammer. Okay, a hammer isn’t a person and can’t do that. But you get the point. It would be like a person dressing in a US Postal Service uniform, collecting a pay check from the government, driving around in a little white vehicle with a bunch of letters and packages in it, and refusing to actually deliver that mail. That’s a mailman (or mailwoman, of course) in rebellion. You may or may not think he is a “bad” person, but refusing to do the very thing you were made to do is indeed very bad. And that’s the state we all find ourselves in.

So, though God made people who initially were not created to die, death came as a judgment against our rebellion. This is seen in Genesis 3, where Adam and Eve, the first human beings disobey God. And it’s quite famously stated in Romans 6:23: “For the wages of sin is death.” Death is something we’ve earned because our sin. (Likewise, James 1:14-15 tells us that our own twisted desires give birth to sin, which, when fully grown, brings forth death.)

So, that is why we die.

What Happens After We Die?

Scientists can never tell us what happens to our souls after we die. By definition, whatever existence we may or may not have after death is beyond observation and experimentation. Science cannot tell us whether we have souls or not, or whether there is a heaven or a hell. Science has its limits. Not all truth is confined to the natural world of observation and experimentation.

It is therefore necessary for someone to reveal to us what happens after die. We need to hear from someone who knows what does and does not happen, or else we could never know with certainty. Some people put a lot of stock in what they hear from people who have been clinically dead for a few minutes and then are revived. Personally, I’m a bit skeptical about that. I’m just not sure I trust that those people weren’t experiencing something in their minds that may or may not be true. What if they were dreaming or imagining something that was based only on their hopes or what they had heard from others? What if their experience of the afterlife was only a projection of what was already dormant in the recesses of their minds?

The exceptional experiences of those people aside, for the rest of us, death is an “outside the box” issue. Imagine that all of our experiences—everything we can observe and touch and discover—are enclosed in a box. Our planet, our galaxy, and our universe—these are all “inside the box” things. True, most of us will never explore all the contents of that box, but the point is that everything that we could possibly know through the greatest human discoveries fits inside that box. But there are “outside the box” issues, such as whether God exists or not, what the meaning and purpose of life is, and what happens after death. Those are things that we can’t discover on our own. Of course, we can speculate. But our speculation could very well be wrong, and those are issues that are too important to get wrong.

But this is where Christianity gives us great hope. God has revealed the truth of those issues to us. God is outside the box, but in no box of his own. God made the box. God sustains the box, keeping its form and shape and structure intact. And God works within the box, sustaining everything in it, too. God has sent messages into the box, by means of the Holy Spirit, an invisible, divine person who directed God’s messengers to say and write what he wanted them to. And here’s the most amazing thing of all: God became man and stepped into the box. And what happened after that gives us great hope.

Where Can Hope Be Found?

The Bible describes death as an enemy. This shouldn’t surprise us. As I said earlier, we already have this sense. If death is an enemy that conquers all human beings, our only hope is if someone—no mere mortal—can defeat this enemy. Can death ever be defeated? That sounds too good to be true. But it is true.

Our hero, the one who will defeat death, is Jesus. Jesus is God who became man. That’s what we celebrate every Christmas: the miracle of the incarnation, when God took on human form. He didn’t cease being God, but he added a human nature. This is like William Shakespeare entering into one of his own plays. Why would God enter into a world of death, of disease, and scores of other wrong, painful things? God entered into his creation in order to rescue us. He entered into his creation in order to pay the penalty for our rebellion. Every crime deserves a punishment, and because God is a perfect judge, he must punish the crimes. But if we were all punished for our crimes against God, there would be no hope for us—certainly no life after death.

Yet Jesus came to life the perfect life that we don’t live and to die the death that we deserve. In other words, as God the Son, he always obeyed the God the Father. Yet he died on a cross—an instrument of torture—in order to pay the penalty for us. God was satisfied to take the penalty that we deserve and to place it upon his Son. And the Son willingly came to take on that penalty himself.

But there’s something else: Jesus didn’t just die. On the third day, he rose from the grave. His resurrection from the dead shows that he has power over death. It shows he paid the penalty for our sin. He walked out a free man, and his empty tomb says that he paid the penalty for sin in full.

“O Death, Where Is Your Sting?”

Jesus later returned to heaven to be with the Father. But one day he will return and he will destroy the death.

In 1 Corinthians 15, the apostle Paul, when talking about Jesus’ resurrection, says that Jesus’ work isn’t done yet. When he returns, he will deliver “the kingdom to God the Father after destroying every rule and every authority and power. For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. The last enemy to be destroyed is death” (vv. 24-26).

Death is an enemy to be destroyed! And it will be destroyed. Remember, this message that Paul is relaying to us comes from God. Jesus commissioned Paul to be his representative, his apostle. Here, Paul is giving us this “outside the box” message regarding death. One day, Jesus will defeat it.

What does that mean for us? Those who have put their hope, their trust, their faith in Jesus, will one day have their own resurrection. We will all die—unless Jesus returns before we die. But those who have put their lives in the hands of Jesus will come back to life, in perfect bodies that can never die again. Here is what Paul says about that:

Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed. For this perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality. When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written:

“Death is swallowed up in victory.”
“O death, where is your victory?
O death, where is your sting?” (1 Corinthians 15:51-55)

One day, death will have no victory. Death will have no sting. When death dies, there will only be life. But this promise only holds true for those who have put their trust in Jesus.

What is Faith?

What does trust, or faith, in Jesus look like? Faith in Jesus must agree with a certain set of facts, a bare minimum, so to speak: there is one true God who created us; we have all gone astray (we have sinned against God); we therefore deserve judgment; Jesus is the God who became man, lived a perfect life, died a death in the place of sinners, and rose from the grave; therefore, it is only through Jesus that one can be saved.

But faith is more than believing a set of facts to be true. Faith is a relationship. In this context, faith in Jesus means loving Jesus, humbling one’s self before him, and possessing a willingness to follow him by obeying what he says. No one is saved by being good, by being obedient. One is saved from judgment by God’s grace, which operates through the instrument of faith. But real faith results in a transformed life, one marked by doing good. (This can be seen in Ephesians 2:8-10, and also James 2:14-26.)

Contrary to what some may believe, not everyone goes to heaven after death. Not everyone is in paradise, with God and with their loved ones. Only those who have true faith in Jesus will be in heaven. Only those who trust him for salvation and submit to him as Lord will be spared the wrath that is to come.

We Can Trust Jesus

If you read the four Gospels—the biographies of Jesus—you will find that Jesus is the most amazing figure that ever walked this earth. There are many good reasons to believe that these accounts of Jesus are true, that the Gospels themselves come from God. But perhaps the greatest one is this: Who would make up a story about God becoming man and dying for you? And if this story is true, who better to trust than the God who became man to die for you?

The book of Hebrews has much to say about Jesus. It tells us that Jesus is greater than angels and Moses and any other priest. He is truly the great High Priest, the one who mediates between God and human beings. And one of the works of Jesus was to destroy the power of evil, Satan himself, and the power of death. Hebrews 2:14-15 says that Jesus became a human being and died so “that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery.”

All of us fear death. I don’t know an honest person who says he or she isn’t afraid of death. Therefore, we are slaves to that fear. We like to think of ourselves as free, but we’re not. We’re enslaved to all kinds of things—addictions and fears chief among them. And we’re enslaved to our fear of death. But if we put our hope in Jesus, we don’t have to fear death. Jesus came to deliver us from death and the fear of death.

Do you believe that? Do you believe Jesus died for you and rose from the grave? Do you believe he will return to put an end to all evil, including death? If you trust Jesus, you have a hope that cannot be shaken, that can never be taken away. You will live a perfect life without end in a perfect world with God and every other person who trusted in the one true God. What a great day that will be.

^[1] Blaise Pascal, Pensées, in The Harvard Classics 48: Blaise Pascal: Thoughts, Letters, and Minor Works, ed. Charles W. Eliot, trans. W. F. Trotter, M. L. Booth, and O. W. Wight (New York: P. F. Collier & Son, 1910), 63–64.

A few weeks ago, I had the privilege of preaching a sermon on John 8:12-59 at Hope Fellowship Church in New Hampshire. You can listen to a recording of that sermon here. In the sermon, I explain some of the truth claims made by Jesus.

I preached a sermon on Luke 6:27-36 on Sunday, May 4, 2014 at Providence Family Baptist Church in Lynnwood, WA. You can listen to the sermon recording here. The audio isn’t the best because I pulled it off a video recording. Still, I hope I was able to illuminate Jesus’ words on loving our enemies.

Here is a significant sampling of my theological writing. (To view and/or download each file in PDF format, click on the title.)

In 2012, I taught on the subjects of evangelism and apologetics. I taught through the following subjects (here presented as chapters in a book):

1. Introduction
2. What Is Evangelism?
3. What Is the Gospel?
4. Where Do We Begin?
5. Learning from Mistakes
6. Learning from Jesus (Part 1)
7. Learning from Jesus (Part 2)
8. Using Your Life, Story, and Church
9. An Introduction to Apologetics
10. Truth
11. Knowledge and Belief
12. Worldviews
13. Non-Christian Worldviews
14. Evidence for God: The Cosmological Argument
15. Evidence for God: The Design Argument (Part 1)
16. Evidence for God: The Design Argument (Part 2)
17. Evidence for God: The Moral Argument
18. Defending Scripture

Additionally, I have written these essays on apologetics-related issues:

1. Evidence for the Resurrection of Jesus
2. The Problem of Evil
3. A Theological Position Paper on Evolution

The following are essays I have written for seminary courses:

The Ten Commandments and the Sabbath
A Theological Position Paper on Baptism

Finally, here are some essays I have written which appeared in the newsletter of Pinehurst Baptist Church:

1. December 2013 (“When Was Jesus Born?”)
2. November 2013 (“Book Review: D. A. Carson’s The Intolerance of Tolerance“)
3. July-August 2013 (“Superheroes and the Savior”)
4. March-April 2013 (“Evidence for the Resurrection”)
5. February 2013 (“Jesus’ Sheep Know His Voice”)
6. December 2012 (“The Gospel for Christmas”)

The following are representative examples of my preaching.  The sermons are of various lengths.

1.) January 9, 2011: Something Greater (Matthew 12:38-45)

This is a good example of expository preaching.

2.) December 11, 2011: The Hopes and Fears of All the Years (Luke 2)

This is a Christmas sermon.  It’s a bit shorter than the others listed here.

3.) January 8, 2012: Resurrection (Matthew 27:55-28:15)

This is a good example of a doctrinal sermon.  I defend the historical reliability of the resurrection and I explain what Jesus’ resurrection means for our lives.

4.) August 11, 2013: The Message of Job

This is an overview message on the book of Job. As I said in the introduction, it’s a bit longer than my other sermons, but it addresses some very important issues, such as suffering and God’s sovereignty.

5.) May 4, 2014: Love Your Enemies (Luke 6:27-36)

I preached this sermon at Providence Family Baptist Church in Lynnwood, WA. The audio isn’t the best because I pulled it off a video recording. Still, I hope I was able to illuminate Jesus’ words on loving our enemies.

Here is a fairly recent picture of my family (Me, my wife Kathy, and our two sons, Caleb and Simon).