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]

Yahweh’s invitation has three implications. First, the authority of kingship and the victory over enemies is entirely derivative. The enthronement ceremony involves an “actual transferral of authority,”[4] which occurs by divine decree (~aun>) spoken by a prophet, but God is the real King and the earthly ruler rules “as a co-regent and representative, deriving his authority from his divine counterpart.”[5]

Second, the summons assumes the king shares in the life and actions of the divine King. The king has dominion over his foes, not as a passive agent,[6] but as a sovereign who subjugates enemies in a manner that concedes he is deriving his power from and participating in the larger purposes of the God of Israel. Yahweh will make his enemies a footstool for his feet.[7] Subdued enemies becomes the theme of vs. 2 in explanation of the extent of the king’s authority which expands from Zion[8] right into the midst of his enemies (br<q<åB.). The metaphor employed here is an extended scepter (hJ,m;), an emblem of world dominance, martial authority, and national glory (Jer. 48:17).[9] The phrase dealing with world dominance is controlled by an imperative (hdEªr>÷) that involves an element of promise: the prophet assures the king that the vanquishing of his rivals will most certainly take place in the future.[10]

Finally, the transmission of authority and the promises of world dominance and divine protection are intimately connected in history and ritual with the king’s divine Sonship: an idea which speaks nothing of ontological realities, but rather of status and adoption. In the ceremony of conferral of authority, the prophet enacts a legal transmission whereby the king is declared the adopted son of God.[11] The designation of divine sonship finds its roots in Ps. 2:7, the parallel text to 110:3.  110:3 has long been deemed “mysterious”[12] and the “most obscure verse in the whole Psalter.”[13] Understanding the verse entails considering a fair amount of textual alteration and thus this text has fashioned numerous scholastic constructions and explanations. The factors are numerous but here are a few. First, the verse contains two nominal clauses which offer the interpreter no indication of time. Second, a textual variant in 3b might be rendered either “holy majesty” (MT) or the minority reading, “on the holy mountains.” Here I will retain the MT reading primarily because the majority rendering of vd<qoß-yrEd>h;B. provides a fitting transition between the discussion of kingship and the discussion of priesthood. Third, due to the corruption of the Hebrew text and its lack of verbs, the LXX offers the most likely route for interpretation by inserting evxege,nnhsa,. This makes the most sense, especially in light of Ps. 2:7. Fourth, a hapax legomenon (rx’v.mi) occurs in the second phrase creating the usual interpretive difficulties associated with such an anomaly.[14]

Verse 3 begins with the imagery of the king’s subjects eagerly offering themselves to his military service, then moves to a three line description of the king’s Sonship which occurs in mixed-metaphor. The first metaphor, as already noted, has two possible Hebrew constructions. The majority reading used here portrays the king as “arrayed in holy splendor (Ps. 29:2).” The word vd,qo places his kingly majesty in a cultic context and creates a nice transition into vs. 4.[15]

The metaphor shifts at this point into two lines describing how the king was begotten of God “from the womb of the dawn (rx”+v.mi ~x,r<äme).”[16] Employing the LXX reading, which provides the word evxege,nnhsa,, the final line carries the metaphor of birth by asserting that Yahweh is the progenitor of the king. The king is the son of God through divine decree and a decisive transformation “of the kings essential nature (Ps. 2:7)”[17] through the set of legal acts previously footnoted[18] This proclamation legitimizes the kings rule. By the time of the Psalter’s compilation, this psalm had clearly taken on messianic, eschatological significance, but at the time this particular psalm was written, it would have served the political ideologies of “that segment of society (urban elite) who benefited from a centralized government”[19] because of its exaltation of the king to the status of sharing in divine glory and receiving divine power with Yahweh’s “unconditional commitment to protect and prosper Israel.”[20] Centralizing political power into one figure is now accompanied by centralizing religious power in the same figure.

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[2] Bvy can mean both “to sit” and “to dwell.” Othmar Keel, The Symbolism of the Biblical World. (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1997), 263. Keel provides other evidence for this suggestion by citing the fact that certain reconstructive models of the temple have placed the royal palace on the right side of the temple, threshold to threshold with God’s dwelling place. The other option is that the ark may have been processed into the Gihon spring and the throne of the king placed beside it. Allen, 80.

[3] Bill T. Arnold & John H. Choi, A Guide to Biblical Hebrew Syntax. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 63.

[4] Kraus, 112.

[5] Allen, 86.

[6] Some scholars have suggested that the psalm is so Yahweh-centered that it depicts the king as a relatively passive agent who sits protected as Yahweh goes to war for him. While this is largely true, the psalm is concerned primarily with Yahweh’s actions, it misses the evidence of verse 3 where the king has troops who offer themselves as free will offerings as they rally around the king for battle.

[7] Such imagery has parallels in ancient Egpyt. Certain iconographic archeological discoveries depict adversaries situated underneath the feet of Egyptian rulers. At times the imagery in these discoveries depicted other deities being dominated by the superior, Egyptian deities. (Keel, 255) The implications of such a reading for Ps. 110 are staggering. Yahweh subdues the enemies of Israel, not merely as secular enemies but as enemies which are such because they have devoted themselves to false deities who are also defeated and possess no authority of their own.Greg Boyd, God at War. (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1997), 243. Aside from the possible Egyptian parallels, the Old Testament uses the footstool metaphor repeatedly in reference to Davidic kings and Yahweh’s defeat of their enemies (I Kings 5:3).

[8] The place of the kings coronation according to Ps. 2.  “It is the city of Jerusalem in its political and historical existence, particularly in the realm of cultic language and thus religious thought: it is concerned with the city of Yahweh. Zion in the place where Yahweh dwells or at least may be reached.” Randy G. Haney, Text and Concept Analysis in Royal Psalms. (New York: Peter Lang Publishers, 2002), 123.

[9] Allen, 86. Furthermore, it seems possible that the hJ,m; is reference back to the Exodus where Yahweh rescued Isreal from Egypt with a shepherds staff.

[10] The action itself is still dependent upon Yahweh’s prior actions because such ends lie “outside the power of the [king].” Arnold & Choi, 64.

[11]Referring to Ps. 2:7, Kraus notes, “The prophetic and procedural declaration, ‘You are my son, today I have begotten you,’ is disclosed as a creative word that establishes new existence. The divine choice is reflected in adoption. The chosen king is placed at god’s side by adoption. He is elevated to the position of representative of God’s sovereignty and of heir to his power. Thus it is that in the Old Testament the king was not “son of God” by nature, nor did he by his ascending the throne necessarily enter into the sphere of the divine, but by a decision of Israel’s God he was declared to be son at his entry into the office of king.” Kraus, 113.

[12] Ibid., 114.

[13] Allen, 80.

[14]Some have seen here a reference to the Canaanite deity Shahar in the word rx’v.mi, but this is entirely unlikely because the imagery in this verse is one of giving birth and Shahar was a male, not a female, deity. Also, Isaiah 14:12 describes the king of Babylon as rx;v’_-!B, (a son of the dawn), which seems to be a clearer connection with that Shahar.  Robert Davidson, The Vitality of Worship. (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Col, 1998), 365. Sigmund Mowinckel, The Psalms in Israel’s Worship. (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 2004), 64.

[15]If the minority text is employed, “on the holy mountains,” the phrase would then describe “the location and process of begetting to the heavenly sphere. The king comes forth from heights beyond the world, from the world of God…Thus in Ps. 110:3 on the day when the ruler ascends the throne he is ascribed miraculous origin from on high and the hope of a dawning light, birth from the ‘heavenly world.’” This, of course, would flow nicely with the following assertion of divine sonship in the last two lines of this verse and the reference to the morning dew. Kraus, 114.

[16] The other attractive option at this point in this terribly difficult verse, is that the writer continues to speak of those who volunteered for the kings military service. The metaphor of the dew describes the vast number of warriors at the kings disposal. In this reading the entire army of Israel is dressed in holy attire, not just the king. Haney, 124.

[17] Kraus, 113.

[18]Taken in the larger military context of this passage, it seems plausible that Yahweh’s begetting of the king in the womb of the dawn is an indication that the king is Yahweh’s tool for helping Israel in her time of need, events often associated with the morning (Ps. 46:5-6). Such a reading also places this assistance nicely within the immediate context of the king having a zealous army at his side .Again, however, it should be remembered that the kings military might is derived from Yahweh not his own strength or military prowess.

[19] Brueggemann, 606.

[20] Brueggeman, 606.

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).

The 110^th 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.

[2] Other notable features involve an inclusion that moves from the first verse with there reference to the kings enemies being placed under his feet (lg<r,) to the final verse which references his head (varo,) being lifted up. The alliterative aspect of this inclusion highlights another prominent feature of this psalm.

[3] One example will suffice here. The “Day of Wrath” rhetoric occurs in numerous prophetic books. It is a day in which Yahweh is viewed as a divine warrior warring against pagan nations and intervening to protect the king and His people. Is. 5:15, Jer. 9:21, Ez. 32:5-6

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?

Within the canonical context, there can be little doubt that the 110^th 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.

[2]  For broader reasons for the difficulty of dating this and the other Royal Psalms, see Gunkel, 118.

[3] Though the earliest writer materials indicated a time during the Davidic kingly era, some of the rituals and traditions behind this document likely go back to the Jebusite royal traditions, of which the Melchizedekian comes to the foreground for this psalm.

[4] The primary argument for a post-exilic dating asserts that vs. 4 indicates the period of the Maccabean priest-kings, most likely around 105 B.C.E. The problem, however, is that the text does not say that a priest will become king. Rather, a king is given the status of priesthood, and that status is not even Aaronic. Post-exilic Maccabean priestly rulers would have certainly found this and other psalms helpful, but the evidence that they authored these psalms is scant. A comparison with non-canonical, post-exilic poems demonstrates that the non-canonical psalms of this period are exceptionally weak, “reflecting corroded imitations of ancient patterns. They are removed from the outstanding flourish of the songs in Pss 2 and 110.” Gunkel, 119.

[5] Hans­-Joachim Kraus, Theology of the Psalms. A Continental Commentary. (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1992), 111.

[6] Gunkel identifies the 110^th Psalm as a Royal Psalm, and suggests it was sung on the “day of anointing of the young ruler” and assists us in gaining insight the “situation of the enthronement from the reports of the historical books.” Hermann Gunkel, An Introduction to the Psalms. (Macon: Mercer University Press, 1998), 67.

[7] James Luther Mays, Psalms. Interpretation. (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1994), 350.

[8] Whatever else may be said, this psalm is closely connected with Psalm 2 and 2 Samuel 7, both of which elevate the military conquests of Yahweh’s king by Yahweh’s hand.

[9] As already noted, vs. 4 indicates that military success does not exhaust the kings job description, he also retains cultic functions. This sacerdotal efficaciousness “will assure the success and well-being of the people (v. 3),” Walter Brueggemann, Theology of the Old Testament. (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1997), 606.

[10] Allen, 84.  The priest/king connections in this psalm do not really help at this point either. Verse 4 could indicate a post-exilic dating, but “if vs. 4 can be harmonized with the Davidic monarchy, the way is mainly open toward a pre-exilic setting.” The military references seem to indicate a pre-exilic setting, some have suggested Josiah. Whatever the case it seems the most likely suggestion is that the earliest form of this psalm is pre-exilic, though I am not convinced one could be too dogmatic in this assertion. .

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’ 12^th 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