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Article Series - Psalm 110
  1. Psalm 110: Introduction
  2. Psalm 110: Structure
  3. Psalm 110:1-3: Sit at My Right Hand

The first of the two prophetic oracles initiates the interpreter into the enthronement ritual. Here the prophet announces that Yahweh has extended to the king a position of prestige at his right hand. This imagery is incomparable; in the Psalter a king is regularly represented as sitting (bvy) before God’s face (ynEåp.li),[1] but rarely at His right hand (ynI+ymiyli(). This subtle shift and its similarities with Egyptian symbolism has led some scholars to suggest that the image is “imported from Egypt, as an invitation for the king to ‘dwell’ rather than ‘sit’ at the right hand of God.”[2] The imperative (bveî) is not merely a command but an invitation which permits the king to inhabit Yahweh’s presence.[3] Continue reading »

 

If you wanna join in a conversation on theological loan words and equating the will of the Lord with the Bible, come on over!

 

The following is written by Jon Zens, a prolific Reformed writer and authority on New Covenant Theology: The Only Time the Bible Uses the Word “Authority” (exousia) in the Context of Marriage Should Lead Couples to Cherish Unity:

First, 1 Cor.7:1-5 is the only place in the NT where the word “authority” (Greek, exousia) is used with reference to marriage. But it is not the authority of the husband over the wife, or vice versa, that is in view, but rather a mutual authority over each other’s body. 1 Corinthians 7:4 states that the wife has authority over her husband’s body. One would think that this would be a hard pill to swallow for those who see “authority” as resting only in the husband’s headship.

Second, Paul states that a couple cannot separate from one another physically unless there is mutual consent (Greek, symphonou). Both parties must agree to the separation or it doesn’t happen. The husband cannot override the wife’s differing viewpoint.

John Piper suggests that “mature masculinity accepts the burden of the final say in disagreements between husband and wife, but does not presume to use it in every instance” (p.32). The problem with a dogmatic statement like this is that it will allow for no exceptions. But 1 Corinthians 7:5 contradicts Piper’s maxim. If the wife disagrees with a physical separation, the husband cannot overrule his wife with the “final choice” (p.33). Such separation can occur only if both husband and wife are in “symphony” (unity) about such an action.

Now if mutual consent applies in an important issue like physical separation from one another for a period of time, wouldn’t it seem proper that coming to one-mindedness would be the broad model for decision-making in a healthy marriage? Piper feels that “in a good marriage decision-making is focused on the husband, but is not unilateral” (p.32). In light of 1 Corinthians 7:1-5 I would suggest that decision-making should focus on finding the Lord’s mind together. Over the years the good ideas, solutions to problems and answers to dilemmas will flow from both husband and the wife as they seek the Lord as a couple for “symphony.”

1 Corinthians 7:5 throws a wrench into the works for those who would include the husband’s “final say” in male headship. Paul teaches that unless the couple can agree on a course of action, it cannot be executed. I suggest that this revelation invites us to re-examine what the husband’s headship really entails (cf. Gordon D. Fee, “1 Corinthians 7:1-7 Revisited,” Paul & the Corinthians: Studies On A Community in Conflict, Trevor J. Burke/J. Keith Elliott, eds., Brill, 2003, pp.197-213).

 
Article Series - Psalm 110
  1. Psalm 110: Introduction
  2. Psalm 110: Structure
  3. Psalm 110:1-3: Sit at My Right Hand

The 110th Psalm’s structure is anchored within two prophetic pronouncements (vs. 1 and 4). Though scholars have espoused various structural breakdowns, a two section division seems most sensible. Parallelisms between verses 1-2 and 4-5 are too numerous to ignore. These include the repetition of the name hwhy and repetition of His acts of pronouncing a future reality.[1]

The entire psalm is a particularization of the phrase “until I make your enemies a footstool for your feet (^yl,(g>r:l. ~doåh] ^yb,ªy>ao÷ tyviîa’-d[;).” This particularization occurs by means of numerous contrasts: hands and feet; sitting and moving; Zion and the nations; my right hand and your right hand.

The first pronouncement proclaims that the king will sit on Yahweh’s right hand until the time at which his enemies become a footstool for him. As noted, this idea is then particularized in the four subsections that follow, essentially announcing “how” hwhy will bring this reality about. The second pronouncement (vs. 4) connects the king with the priestly lineage of Melchizedek, a feature which might seem out of place if we were discussing Aaronic priests, but because Melchizedek’s Genesis context is being blessed by Abraham after the defeat of the kings of Sodom, the psalmist’s connecting him to military imagery seems natural. This pronouncement is, like the first, accompanied by four subsections which serve to particularize verse 4.[2]

Finally, one of the more interesting features of the psalm involves a stylistic connection, at points, with prophetic oracles. Each of the two statements anchoring the structure of the psalm stylistically reflects prophetic discourse.[3] Examples of prophetic discourse and the importance of the structure of this psalm will be discussed in the following post in this series. Continue reading »

 

This is the most amazing and biting sentence I have ever read.

I appreciate that for so many people in late Western modernity the idea of people “living within a controlling narrative” seems foreign (though we all do it cheerfully: every time people say “in this day and age” they are appealing to an assumed idea of modernity, or progress, or enlightenment); that for many Christians within the Protestant traditions the idea of continuing history as having importance in itself, and of expecting deliverance within history, is not on the radar screen, perhaps for implicit religious reasons; and that for many, perhaps most, contemporary Western readers of the New Testament (John Piper’s “ordinary folk” perhaps), the effort required to think into a worldview where people were thinking to themselves, When is God going to do what he’s promised? is all too much, and they shake their heads and settle back into the comfort of a non-historical soteriology the long and short of which is “my relationship with God” rather than “what God is doing to sort out the world and his people.”

Wright, Justification, p. 61

That is one sentence; Paul would be proud.  Also – where is the evidence of the Lucado personal relationship theology?

 
Article Series - Psalm 110
  1. Psalm 110: Introduction
  2. Psalm 110: Structure
  3. Psalm 110:1-3: Sit at My Right Hand

Within the canonical context, there can be little doubt that the 110th Psalm is messianic and eschatological in nature. Not only does the New Testament cite this psalm more than any other in reference to Jesus Christ, but the actual placement of the psalm within the Psalter either “beside a pair of Davidic psalms, Ps. 108, 109, or subsequently attracting them to it as a cluster, already reflects a messianic understanding”[1] at the time of the Psalter’s compilation.

That said, there remains substantial difficulty in discerning the dating of this psalm.[2] The ascription places the dating at the time of David, possibly his enthronement or his successful sacking of Jerusalem. An assortment of scholars align the psalm with post-exilic priestly activity, arguing for a redaction from a prior document rooted in the Davidic dynasty. Still other speculations span from the eras of Abraham, Simon Maccabeus, King Josiah, and King Solomon. While recognizing the difficulty involved in dating, this series works from the assumption that the earliest materials[3] present within this psalm originate in the Davidic dynasty.[4] With the biblical evidence suggesting that the Davidic kings did in fact have mediatory, cultic functions (I Kings 8:22-26, Jer. 30:21),[5] there seems to exists no incontrovertible evidence excusing the extraction of this text from a pre-exilic locale.

Composed of two prophetic pronouncements, the voice present in this psalm is probably that of a court prophet serving as a subject of a newly enthroned king (ynI©doal;()[6] and probably performing a professional function during the enthronement procedures.[7] The pronouncement of the prophet entails Yahweh’s endowment of the king with dominance over his adversaries[8] and cultic, mediatory authority.[9] Such a merging of military and cultic privilege is a well documented practice in Ancient Near Eastern (ANE) literature, though admittedly rather rare in the Old Testament.

With the ambiguity of the introductory material noted,[10] the remainder of this series will be concerned with working from within the text itself, beginning with a brief sketch of the structure of the psalm and concluding with a lengthier set of comments on the more noteworthy features of the text.

Continue reading »

 

Within recent weeks, when the world of Christendom has turned its attention to Christmas and the birth of the Messiah, my mind has turned towards Easter and the great event that is celebrated on that day, namely the resurrection. It began in looking into the New Perspective(s) on Paul over the summer and has culminated with viewing a lecture series by N.T. Wright on the book of Acts and a theological symposium held in 2006 at Concordia Seminary in St. Louis, MO. One theme that kept resurfacing in my reading, viewing, and listening has been the theme of the resurrection, not only Jesus’ resurrection but also the believers’ resurrection.

I read, for example, in Matthew the Son of David coming to Israel and Judah. He rarely interacts with Gentiles and even tells the Twelve, when he sends them out on mission to proclaim the gospel of the kingdom, to not go to the Gentiles and Samaritans but only to Israel. Yet at the resurrection Matthew paints a Jesus who says to not only to Israel but to all nations and make them his disciples. Just read the entire book of Acts. The message the early church proclaims is not a Messiah who was crucified for sins–though that is present–but a Messiah who was resurrected from the grave to fulfill God’s promises in the OT and now appointed as God’s judge. The early church proclaimed a resurrected Jesus to both the Jews and the Gentiles. That’s what sparked all the controversy in Acts for the church. And that is just two examples off the top of my head at 11:30 pm.

During this time of seeing how important a theme the resurrection is in the New Testament, in my corner of Christendom (Reformed Evangelical Protestant, SBC), I have noticed that the resurrection is often not discussed, if at all. When it comes up, it is in passing and no exposition is given upon the resurrection. Usually those who do often do so because of the discussion being about how the world is going to end and what happens when it does. The resurrection seems like it is just part of what happens at the last day.

On Easter, in my experience, when we are to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus I hear sermons and exposition on the even of Good Friday, namely the crucifixion. I think most notably of my pastor in KC, MO. He has got to be my favorite expositor of Scripture. The authority and compassion with which he speaks is captivating while at the same time his insight into the Scripture is both deep and complex yet also simple and clear. God has truly gifted this man with the gift of preaching. In his preaching, I have observed more and more that the resurrection has gone largely untouched while at the same time the cross of Jesus is clearly expounded and unpacked. The members of my church back in KC can clearly articulate a theology of the cross, one that is fairly balanced in the major theories of atonement (but most definitely it is a church that holds primarily to penal substitution). But, as simple observation, I’m not certain they can articulate a theology of the resurrection, both Jesus’ resurrection as well as the resurrection of humanity. Let me very fair to my pastor here. I spend Easter at home in Columbia with my family so I’m not in KC where a resurrection sermon is preached. Furthermore, my pastor spent about 18 months preaching in Hebrews where the death of Jesus is focused on, but the resurrection is not neglected only the death receives the most exposition by the letter. Now he is wrapping up a series on the prophet Malachi, a text that doesn’t display a lot of resurrection themes. I do keep this in mind.

When I listen to guys like R C Sproul, John McAurthur, and John Piper (to name a few off the top of my head), the same can be said to be true. There is a clear articulation in their preaching and teaching of a theology of the cross but not so much a theology of the resurrection. And usually when I do hear these pillars of my Christian faith speak of the resurrection, like on Easter, it is only to point back to the cross where at which point their clearly defined theology of the cross is articulated again.

So as I sit here in my bed–okay not my bed but the bed in my parents’ guest bedroom–I have a couple of questions. The first question has to be, what is a theology of the resurrection? What does the resurrection (both Jesus and the believer) mean and what are its implications on soteriology and ecclesiology and missiology and the sacraments etc.? In other words, what does Jesus’ resurrection mean in terms of the salvation of both the individual and the people of God? What impact does the resurrection have on our understanding of the sacraments (Lord’s “Dinner” and Baptism) and the church? What is the significance of the resurrection in the evangelism of the lost world? What does it do to our methodology and message? What does a theology of the resurrection look like and where does one start? What narratives are needed to articulate this theology? Evangelicalism is quick to move to the Yom Kippur, Day of Atonement, narrative in the Old Testament to articulate the meaning of the cross. What narrative is needed for the resurrection?

The other pressing matter in this observation is this, why is this theology of the resurrection missing (for a lack of a better term)? Why isn’t it being articulated clearly? Why aren’t we debating the meaning of the resurrection as much as we are debating the meaning of the atonement? I know one answer is that the cross is what is being challenged. But is that because the world accepts the resurrection that has been proclaimed, or has the world not heard the resurrection and therefore is not challenging its meaning? Again I can only speak of my own pocket of Christendom. May be someone who reads this post is in a pocket of Christendom where a theology of the resurrection is clearly articulated.

I don’t have answers to these questions and so I’m not asking to lead a discussion in a certain direction. I am honestly asking these questions and seeking honest answers to them. I would deeply appreciate feedback to them if you would like to provide some.

 

Joseph, the earthly father of Jesus, only appears in two biblical books. And even in those books he is a very minor character. In fact, he disappears completely after the brief story of Jesus at the Temple at the age of 12. By the time Jesus subjects himself to John’s baptism at the age of 30, Joseph is long gone. We never hear of him again. The text never offers us insight into why he is gone or what has happened.

New Testament scholars speculate about this, but the dominant opinion is that Joseph died sometime between Jesus’ 12th year and his baptism around the age of 30. There’s a story here about which the gospels are mute. But even their silence, when a character simply disappears into thin air, a good story teller wants us to speculate – and the gospel writers are good story tellers! They do this because in such speculation they want to reveal something incredibly important about their Main Character:

When Jesus comes in the form of a baby on that Christmas some 2,000 years ago, he does not come as a divine spirit detached from the common pains and hurts of human life. He comes in human flesh, in a broken world, in a godly family – yet one that still labors under the wages of sin.

In this sin-stained world, Jesus experiences the death of his father. His human experience is so full and so real that not only does he take death upon himself, but he takes on the pain associated with experiencing the death of his dad – one of the most vulnerable and intimate of all human relationships! He is not so far removed from human experience that the only time he ever feels pain is on the cross. If Jesus wept when Lazarus died, I imagine he nearly had a breakdown when Joseph died.

And because of that, he can sympathize with me. With us.

For all the joy Christmas will bring this year, it will also bring much sadness for many people (I just read the obituary of a 6 day old baby). For all the peace Christmas will bring, it will also remind many families of their loved ones in Iraq or Afganistan. And for all the families Christmas will bring together, it will also remind many of us that our families have experienced a separation that can never be mended.

In the midst of this kind of pain, Christians have more on our side than sentimentalism and clichés.  We have an incarnate God who experienced human frailty, the worst of human disorientation, and the deepest of human depression. We have an incarnate God who can sympathize with our weaknesses, our fear of death, our times of disarray, and our feelings of loss. He became one of us, not only to save us (great as that is!), but also to know fully what it means to be human in a broken and chaotic world. The cross was the culmination of a lifetime of pain (that’s why he is the ‘man of sorrows’). Because of his participation in the universal human experience of seeing a loved one die, I know that Jesus can help me as I struggle with that same reality.

With a broken heart I can do nothing but offer praise to such a God as this!

 

This is the second Christmas my family will be without my dad. Even though it’s been nearly 2 years, I still think about him everyday. The hurt has never gone away; it’s always there as a dull pain in the backdrop of my mind, sometimes flaring into a sharp gash. I have never liked Christmas all that much, and this reality doesn’t make the season any better.

But with all that out there, I have been praying for Christmas to be redeemed in my mind – for God to move in my life in such a way that I come to rejoice in the ecclesial community’s celebration of the incarnation of our Lord. And God is doing so, just not in the way many of us would expect: He is using darkness and lament. He is using Advent.

That darkness and lament are not associated with Christmas for most of us demonstrates the extent to which we have not only ignored the biblical events surrounding Jesus’ birth (slaughtering of the innocents by Herod!), but also the extent to which we have neglected the church’s historical observance of Advent – a time of voicing our longings, a time where we lament before God and plea for the return of His Son. A time of praying for Him to come and enact justice and bring salvation…”Come, O Come Immanuel.”

Advent is situated right before Christmas as a necessary preparation for Christmas. Without Advent Christmas becomes merely sentimentalism and context-less “good cheer.” But “peace on earth and good will toward humankind” must be placed in the larger context of the fact that in the world as we know it there is no peace on earth! No, there is much loneliness, despair, and death. There are wars and fighting, disease and pestilence, chaos and pain.

This is where Advent comes in – it acknowledges that even though we long for and expect Christ to come, and even though we look back in joy at his birth, the world is still lost in chaos and disorientation. It allows us to think and speak honestly about the condition of the world and the fact that sometimes it seems as if God has forsaken us. Advent is the church’s opportunity to lament that we are ‘the people walking in darkness’ and that we need to ‘see a great light.’ We’re lost. We’re confused. We’re cold and hurting. We’re dying. And what we need is what the Jewish people longed for 2,000 years ago – a God who wants to be involved, a God who wants to participate, to redeem, to save!

I believe my understanding of Christmas is being redeemed this year because of Advent – because I have been able to mourn and lament and express my frustrations before God. Christmas is being redeemed for me because even though my dad is not here with us, I know I have a God who I can go to in those times when that memory sears my heart. And this God will not shy away from my anger; He will not try to cover my grief in cheap sentimental, seasonal cliché’s, and He will not always seem so far away. If Christmas teaches us anything, it is that God enters into the human pain voiced in Advent, answers our call to “Come, O Come,” and invites us to join with the faithful throughout history who have longed for God’s presence amidst their pain.

Do not overlook these last days of Advent, friends. It is in the context of Advent that Christmas makes the most sense. Advent, the acknowledgement of the darkness, is an act of hope – an act of Christmas hope!

 

Total Pages: 3834

Total Pages Read: 3047

Total Reading Percentage: 79%

I actually did most of my reading this semester.  My TRP is hindered mostly by two source books which contain a great many more pages than were assigned.  The only book that I really skimped on was Redeeming the Routines.  I just did not have the time/gumption quotient high enough.

The majority of the books were excellent.  There were a some with whom I disagreed (looking at you, Moreland).  Sourcebooks will be sourcebooks.  Some were even from the Reformed side of things.

I’ll try, in the coming week, to give feedback on most of the works shown above and listed below.

  1. Redeeming the Routines: Bringing Theology to Life by Robert Banks
  2. Documents of the Christian Church by Henry Bettenson
  3. To Know and Love God: Method for Theology (Foundations of Evangelical Theology) by David K. Clark
  4. Character of Theology, The: An Introduction to Its Nature, Task, and Purpose by John Franke
  5. The Story of Christianity, Volume 1: The Early Church to the Dawn of the Reformation (Story of Christianity) by Justo L. Gonzalez
  6. Beyond Foundationalism: Shaping Theology in a Postmodern Context by Stanley J. Grenz
  7. Resident Aliens: Life in the Christian Colony by Stanley Hauerwas
  8. History of the World Christian Movement: Earliest Christianity to 1453 by Dale T. Irvin
  9. The Next Christendom: The Coming of Global Christianity by Philip Jenkins
  10. Readings in Christian Thought by Hugh T. Kerr
  11. Kingdom Triangle: Recover the Christian Mind, Renovate the Soul, Restore the Spirit’s Power by J. P. Moreland
  12. Christians at the Border: Immigration, the Church, and the Bible by M. Daniel Carroll R.
  13. Naming the Elephant: Worldview As a Concept by James W. Sire
  14. Kingdom, Church, and World: Biblical Themes for Today by Howard A. Snyder
  15. Models of the Kingdom by Howard A. Snyder
  16. Kingdom Come: How Jesus Wants to Change the World by Allen Mitsuo Wakabayashi
 

One of the things about the Christmas narratives in Matthew and Luke that has always baffled me has been the fulfillment passages where Matthew will say that event X fulfills prophecy A. But when I read prophecy A in its OT context it doesn’t make any sense. What Matthew records as the fulfillment isn’t what is being promised by the prophet. Last Christmas I covered Matthew’s use of Hosea 11:1 (see Part 1 and Part 2). This Christmas I want to cover Matthew’s use of Jeremiah 31:15 in Matthew 2:18. Continue reading »

 

 

Many Christian movements have sought to cut ties with perverted and corruptible human traditions and return to that glorious (and Godly) pristine primitive Christianity described in the New Testament.  However, we don’t live in first century Rome and we aren’t powerless and poor.  The questions we bring to the text are our own and not those of the first believing communities.  If we only reply on the “naked text” we will get only naked answers.  Lints suggests that

Having rejected the aid of the community of interpreters throughout the history of Christendom, we have not succeeded in returning to the primitive gospel; we have simply managed to plunge ourselves back to the biases of our own individual situations.

Lints, Fabric of Theology, 93

So, in essence, by rejecting the wisdom of our elders, we swim in a sea of theological subjectivism  Oh, the irony!

bang

Perhaps we too are scared of what we might find find in the box!

 

51QHIJmDfCL._SCLZZZZZZZ_ In this wildly ambitious work, Moreland seeks to cure Christianity from the malaise that plagues – the death of drama; he is mostly successful, though not for the reasons he would give. Written for a popular audience, the Kingdom Triangle is divided into two sections; the first attempts to show us the “crisis of our age,” attacking Naturalism and Postmodernism as the destroyers of drama. The second part is more hopeful, and is Moreland’s attempt to construct a solution to the problem by means of three foci: knowledge, the soul and supernaturalism. With his insistence upon objectivity and reluctance to engage the best of Christian postmodern thought, readers risk being more entrenched against any other approach to knowledge and theology. However, the other parts of the work shine in comparison. When Moreland is attacking naturalism and working to instill drama he is much more effective. This combination of strengths and weaknesses make this book a minefield for the lay reader. There is much good to be had, but one can easily get the impression that all postmodern and emerging Christians are to just as feared and protected against as the Catholic Church.[1]

Drama for your mamma (and the rest of the Body of Christ)

The chief contribution of this work is Moreland’s drive to instill drama in our lives. Moreland’s use of drama is interesting and is the most important theme in the book. Moreland sets it up as the life full of meaning and purpose contrasting it with the drabness of everyday life. His awareness of the hunger for drama is startling and speaks to a need which likely resonates with much of his readership. Wise are the ways Moreland suggests Christians resurrect drama and acute are the causes he identifies for its crucifixion. He identifies the narcissism, individualism, passivity, and immaturity of the self that our popular culture produces;[2] and advocates the flourishing of the self, which includes the development of self-denial, character, and the spiritual disciplines.

Don’t, Stop, Manifesting the Spirit…

Perhaps the most controversial part of the book for the target audience is Moreland’s insistence that we recover the activity of the Spirit in our daily lives. He calls this “being naturally supernatural”[3] and attacks Cessationists. In great contrast to his dealings with Postmodernist Christians and Catholics, he advocates love and charity towards people on different places on the continuum of the Spirit’s activities.[4] This advice is much needed in the North American Church today. He primarily challenges Cessationists by appealing to personal stories and the numbers of Charismatics in the world. Oddly enough, Moreland does not use Scripture to challenge Cessationists. Given his high view of and condemnations by means of Scripture, one would have expected the same here. Ultimately, his wisdom, gentleness, and honesty are instructive in this section.

I refute him thus!

“I refute him thus!” was Samuel Johnson’s exclamation as he broke his foot upon a rock in an attempt to refute Berkley’s idealism.[5] It is also method of attack Moreland employs in his critiques of Naturalism and Postmodernity.[6] Moreland’s treatment of Postmodernism is the chief disappointment Kingdom Triangle. Moreland, the unapologetic modernist, [7] constructs the frailest version of postmodernism possible for the purposes of rendering asunder with the mighty blows of the three-sentence-proof. Moreland goes so far as to dismiss and critique of his characterization of postmodernism by saying: “For one thing, my description of postmodernism is an accurate account that fairly captures and understanding of postmodernism … [so] I can hardly be accused of offering a caricature of the movement.”[8] This rather grumpy, defensive, and dismissive tone is found throughout his discussion of Naturalism, Postmodernism, and Knowledge. Moreland unfortunately, for one of Evangelical Christianity’s most highly regarded philosophers, reduces all of postmodernity into a “synonym for deconstructive relativism.”[9] Too often Moreland attacks his constructed postmodernism[10] with simplistic proofs which bypass the real issues at hand. An excellent example of this is his discussion of objectivity and language.[11]

This seems like a rhetorical strategy to appeal to the value of common sense and anti-intellectualism of his intended audience. This, combined with a lack of real engagement of the best of Christina postmodern theory will hinder the intellectual development of his readers in the wake of Modernity’s decline. It reeks of entrenchment rather than engagement.

The Gentle Curmudgeon

One final criticism of Kingdom Triangle is the bipolar writing style that Moreland employs. When attacking Naturalism and Postmodernism and constructing a theory of knowledge, Moreland writes in a grouchy, dismissive, and immature tone. He repeatedly deems things “sad” and uses brute force to argue his claims (see his listing to all the verse in the Bible that contain the word knowledge).[12] This is contrasted with the genuine love and concern from which he writes his other chapters.

Conclusion

Ultimately this book is a mix of the best and worst from Moreland. Moreland argues for the best possible modernist/foundationalist Christianity, and attacks the worst postmodern secularism, which he ties to all Christian postmodern thought. However, With the exception of the chapter on Knowledge, Christians would be wise to heed his words concerning the resurrection of drama. I would modify Moreland’s argument (that Naturalism and Postmodernism have caused the death of drama) to the Church’s acceptance of Modernism and lack of a response to its death have caused and sustained the death of drama. It is a shame this was not a two-volume work.


Notes:

[1] Moreland is deeply skeptical in this work about the orthodoxy of the Catholic Church , warning evangelical Christians to steer clear of their spiritual development classes (p.159).

[2] Moreland, Kingdom Triangle, 142-145.

[3] Ibid., 182.

[4] Ibid., 178-179.

[5] For more on this, see Dinesh D’Souza, What’s so great about Christianity (Regnery Publishing, 2007), 171.

[6] While Moreland and I agree on the perils of Naturalism, Moreland has a too narrow of a definition of postmodernism, see notes 12 and 13.

[7] See his infatuation with the self and objectivity, and unquestionable support of the correspondence theory of truth in Moreland, Kingdom Triangle, 78-88. and dismissal of critiques of modernity, such as the role of language creating worlds rather than nakedly describing them in Ibid., 85, 87.

[8] Ibid., 87.

[9] Franke, Character of Theology, The, 21.

[10] It is difficult to construct a positive definition of the varied modes of postmodernist theory. I follow Franke in maintaining that Postmodernism is best defined minimally as the critique of Modernity which requires “radical surgery.” See Ibid.

[11] Compare Moreland, Kingdom Triangle, 86. with Stanley J. Grenz, A Primer on Postmodernism (Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1996), sec. The Problem of Language.

[12] Moreland, Kingdom Triangle, 114-120. Moreland opts for the brute-force technique for arguing that our knowledge must be certain (by his criteria and his criteria only, which happens to be foundationalist in nature).

 

Yahweh has been acknowledged as the universal sovereign over all creation in verse 1-2, an unambiguously kingship oriented statement. Now, His title as “king” is officially announced. Again, His kingship cannot be separated from His having founded the world upon the sea. Creation and kingship belong together. Furthermore, the general setting in this final section belongs to the return of the Ark from war – the return of God’s presence to Jerusalem.

The final section begins with two imperatival statements, the first commanding the anthropomorphized gates to lift up their heads and the second commanding anthropomorphized ancient doors to be lifted up.[1] This call to lift up and be lifted up reminds the reader again of Yahweh’s mighty acts in creation by reflecting Baal’s words to other deities prior to defeating Yam, “Lift up your heads, O gods.”[2] Here, it is not pagan deities, but the gates and doors of the temple which respond to Yahweh’s return from battling the forces of chaos (vs. 2). The gates and doors are anthropomorphized so that they become persons who are capable of response to Yahweh’s approach, “courtiers awaiting the return of the Divine Warrior.”[3]  Their response is a repeated inquiry, “Who is He, this King of Glory?”

The answer to the question of the gates and doors is that zWZæ[i hw"hy> is the King of Glory. The identification of their deity with kingship is not uniquely Israelite. No, “the conception and designation of the deity as King are primitive Semitic practice, of which incontestable evidence is afforded by the large number of personal names compounded by melek going back to the most ancient period.”[4]

That said, the title “King of Glory” is entirely unique within the Old Testament, but we can be sure that, assuming an exilic composition, this title would have been quite subversive.[5] To proclaim Yahweh’s kingship in the midst of exile would be to call into question the claims of authority and sovereignty of mere earthly rulers, who themselves were viewed as deities. “As long as Yahweh is kin, his faithful followers can live under the human rulership of any number of foreign monarchs and still maintain their loyalty and allegiance to the one true king, Yahweh.”[6]

The answer to the question is the identity of Yahweh as the zWZæ[i hw"hy. The idea here is that Yahweh is a divine warrior who has, by virtue of his victories, maintained his kingship. The title “LORD of Hosts” is “the throne name of Israel’s God (Is. 6:5)…and refers to the hosts who surround the LORD’s heavenly throne and who praise and consult him and carry out his decisions as sovereign over the world.”[7] The name was associated with the Ark, which was identified as the throne of Yahweh, and which has been connected by the author to Yahweh’s activities in creation.  

CONCLUSION

I have demonstrated here that, though the kingship metaphor of Yahweh plays such an integral part of this psalm, it is subsumed under the idea of Yahweh as creator. The first two verses are particularized in both of the following sections and provides the foundation for His worship and His kingship. In the end, however, I do not intend to draw a sharp disconnect between the elements (even though the structure and flow of the psalm could arguably suggest such a disconnect). Rather, it is important to see the entirety of the psalm and its claims as a whole. Creation, holiness, and kingship are intimately tied together in this psalm. Each of them informs the other and demonstrates the universal sovereignty of Yahweh and His moral claims on the world.


[1] Both of the words have the same root, which occurred earlier in verses 4 and 5.  The first of  afn in this verse 7 is a standard, active Qal, but the second is a passive Niphal. This seems to have no significance beyond poetic variation.

 

[2] Cragie, 214. The LXX is slightly different, calling for the princes to lift up their heads: a;rate pu,laj oi` a;rcontej u`mw/n.

[3] Richard J. Clifford, Psalms 1-72. (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2002), 136.

[4] Eichrodt, 194.

[5] Even in a pre-exilic setting, the title still relativizes all claims to power by any earthly ruler, especially Israelite ones, who were prone to think to highly of themselves and forget Yahweh.

[6] Wilson, 454.

[7] Mays, 123.

© 2011 Theology for the Masses Suffusion theme by Sayontan Sinha