Psalms, Parables, and Prophecy: A Literary Analysis PDF

Psalms are, of course, entirely poetry. And the great praises of the historical books, which were sung (e.g., Ex. 15:1), are like psalms. There are several different types of psalms. The pioneer of psalm classification, H. Gunkel,5 distinguished five major types: hymns (e.g., Ps. 103), communal...

Psalms are, of course, entirely poetry. And the great praises of the historical books, which were sung (e.g., Ex. 15:1), are like psalms. There are several different types of psalms. The pioneer of psalm classification, H. Gunkel,5 distinguished five major types: hymns (e.g., Ps. 103), communal laments (e.g., Ps. 44), royal psalms (e.g., Ps. 2), individual laments (e.g., Ps. 44), and thanksgiving psalms (e.g., Ps. 138). He also identified several minor types, of which the most clearly identifiable is the wisdom psalm (e.g., Ps. 1), and recognized a large class of "mixed" types, which contain elements from more than one type. Subsequent to Gunkel, other scholars have argued for other particular types, such as psalms of Yahweh's kingship (Pss. 47, 93, and 96-99), psalms of confidence (e.g., Ps. 23), and historical psalms (e.g., Ps. 106). Whether or not we adopt Gunkel's classification system,6 it is often helpful to look at a psalm in comparison with others, to see in what ways it is similar to, and different from, them. But since classification is largely based on content, it cannot help too much in identifying what that content is. And the original historical settings proposed by some scholars are so speculative and tentative, that little weight can be placed on them.7 So, when interpreting a psalm, it is better to determine its character by looking at the psalm itself before looking at any commentaries to see what its classification is "supposed" to be. Some psalms defy grouping with any others, and forcing them into a classifi-cation can obscure, rather than elucidate, their meaning. NEW TESTAMENT Although there are no books of a poetic genre in the NT, there are several places where poetry occurs.8 The songs of Mary, Zechariah, and Simeon in Luke 1-2 and the victory songs throughout Revelation are clear examples, because they follow the form of OT parallelism. And Paul introduces the hymnic extract in Ephesians 5:14, "Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, / and Christ shall give you light," with the words "this is why it says" (NIV), which suggests it was derived or adapted from an early Christian hymn already known to his addressees. But the presence of poetic form does not mean that the author is necessarily borrowing at that point. For example, 1 Timothy 3:16 has a repeated parallel structure that marks it as some kind of poetry:  He was manifested in the flesh, vindicated in the Spirit, seen by angels, preached among the nations, believed on in the world, taken up in glory.9 This may reflect a credal formula already known in the church, but it may equally well be Paul's own formulation. Certainly 1 John 2:12-14 is an instance where the author himself uses a poetic structure in the course of his writing: I am writing to you, little children... I am writing to you, fathers... I am writing to you, young men... I write to you, children... I write to you, fathers... I write to you, young men... So it is not at all clear that instances of poetry are borrowed. Surely other authors of the NT were also capable of writing a poetic line or two in the course of their literary work. Other possible instances of NT poetry are not as clear.10 The most well known example of a possible poem is Philippians 2:5-11.11 If this passage is Paul's recitation or adaptation of a previously existing hymn, it might explain the cryptic vocabulary, the short anarthrous phrases, and the non- Pauline style, and awareness of its hymnic origins may warn us against making too much of the use of a particular word. It would also have an apologetic value in demonstrating that the NT ideas of Christ's preexistence and deity did not originate with Paul. However, since scholars are far from agreement on what the marks of Christian hymns in the NT are, and since the interpretive benefits from the recognition of such hymns are not obvious, in our opinion it is better not to worry overmuch about discovering or identifying NT poetry. Philippians 2:5-11 is valuable and has meaning in its present context in Paul's letter, not as an independent hymn outside of Philippians. The question then is not what the hymn meant before Paul used it, but what Paul means by it. PROPHECY Prophecy has a notorious reputation for being difficult to interpret, and that reputation is justified, because prophecy, even when it is not predicting the future, tends to be expressed in highly metaphoric language.12 And the visions of the future that God sent his prophets sometimes seem filled with difficult pictures and symbols. But a great deal of this notoriety comes not from the difficulties of the symbolic language (although that is hard enough), but from misconceived notions about what kind of information prophecy is conveying. Like all Scripture, prophecy is "profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness" (2 Tim. 3:16). In the OT, the immediate concern of most prophecy is to condemn wicked behavior, threaten punishment, and exhort to repentance. These condemnations, threats, and exhortations were sometimes accompanied by a reiteration of the promises of God, lest the punishment overwhelm the people (as with Isaiah and Jere-miah). And sometimes prophecy came in the midst of the punishment, when the people needed encouragement (as with Daniel and Ezekiel). Such prophecy is profitable because it reminds us also of our obligation to obey, our liability to be punished, and our need to repent. And it encourages us as we look forward to God's ultimate deliverance and the destruction of all his and our enemies. But prophecy encourages us regarding the future, not by giving us the news headlines in advance, but by pointing to our victorious God, who has already won the decisive heavenly battle. As noted earlier, the OT prophecies that the NT says have been fulfilled in Christ do not take the form of precise historical accounts written ahead of time. Even where prophetic details turned out to be historically fulfilled, they occurred in symbolic settings where it would have been impossible to tell which details would be literally fulfilled. For example, Micah 5:2 prophesies the detail of the Messiah's birth in Bethlehem, but its context speaks only symbolically of what the Messiah will be like or will accomplish. Psalm 22:16-17 mentions two details that were literally fulfilled in history: the piercing of Jesus' hands and feet, and the casting of lots for his garment (John 19:24). But the piercing was not done by literal dogs (v. 16), and there is no record of any bulls (v. 12), lions (v. 21), or swords (v. 20) at the crucifixion. And Psalm 22 is perhaps not even a prophecy in its original intent, but a lament of a righteous sufferer, which became prophetic because of Christ being the ultimate and only truly righ-teous sufferer. Thus, when we interpret prophecy, just as with other material, we must try to understand the metaphors and symbols in historical and canonical context. Symbols are highly adaptable and easily subject to many different interpretations. The only controls available are, first, to ask what the symbols would have meant to the author and his audience, and, second, to ask how a symbol functions in the Bible as a whole. For example, what would the symbol of the sun darkening and the moon turning to blood mean? If we look at, for example, the contexts of Isaiah 13:10; Joel 2:10, 31 (see Acts 2:20); Amos 8:9; Matthew 24:29 (= Mark 13:24 = Luke 21:25); Luke 23:45; and Revelation 6:12, we see that heavenly portents were signs of events of great significance and change. Sometimes they were literally manifested, as in the case of Jesus' crucifixion, but sometimes they were only figurative, as in Acts 2:19-20, where Peter by inspiration says that the prophecy of Joel 2 was fulfilled at the coming of the Spirit (Acts 2:16). This may mean that Matthew 24:29 (= Mark 13:24) is referring not to the literal destruction of physical entities in outer space, but to the upheaval and overthrow of political entities and/or spiritual forces on earth. With regard to prophecy, we should again ask whether it can have multiple fulfillments. Earlier we argued that, instead of referring to double fulfillment, we ought to speak of preliminary and complete, or typical (shadow) and antitypical (reality) fulfillment (see p. 164). In other words, the earlier fulfillment is itself prophetic of the later fulfillment. For example 2 Samuel 7:14 had a preliminary, but incomplete fulfillment in Solomon, and an extensive and complete fulfillment in Christ (Heb. 1:5). The preliminary fulfillment acts as a "down payment" on the final and ultimate fulfillment. When we come to NT prophecy, this same mode of fulfillment may be operating, and perhaps this is the key to the Olivet discourse recorded in Matthew 24, Mark 13, and Luke 21. There are clear references in the discourse to events that happened in A.D. 70: the temple was left with not one stone on another, and Jerusalem was besieged. But there are other elements that seem to go beyond what happened in the Jewish War: the gospel being preached throughout the world before the end (Matt. 24:14); the sign of the Son of Man appearing in the heavens, and the angels gathering the elect (vv. 30-31). This has led some interpreters to see the entire discourse as somehow symbolically fulfilled in A.D. 70, and others to see the entire discourse as literally fulfilled (or refulfilled) at the end of history. And various attempts have been made to assign one paragraph to A.D. 70, and another to the end. But it might be simpler to take the whole as immediately, but partially or typically fulfilled in the Jewish War, but also to recognize that the events of that war point forward to the end of history. PARABLES13 Parables are a particularly interesting genre because Jesus taught by means of them, and sometimes his parables are difficult to understand. Although a proverb or saying can sometimes be called a "parable" (e.g., Luke 4:23 literally reads: "Doubtless you will quote to me this parable, 'physician, heal thyself'"), most parables are stories or depictions of earthly life which both illustrate spiritual truth and provoke a response to it. They occur in the OT (see, e.g., Judg. 9:7-15; 2 Sam. 12:1-6; Ezek. 17), and were often used by Jewish teachers in Jesus' time. Up until the nineteenth century, parables were generally regarded as allegories, and interpreting a parable was a matter of identifying how each item in it matched up with some truth. Augustine of Hippo, for example, explained the parable of the good Samaritan (Luke 10:29-37) as follows (in Quaestiones Evangeliorum 2): The man going down to Jerusalem from Jericho is Adam (mankind), who is descending from the heavenly city to the world. The robbers (the devil and his angels) attack him and leave him half dead in sin. The priest and the Levite are the OT law, which cannot help Adam in his sinful state. And the good Samaritan is Christ himself, who takes Adam into the church (represented by the inn) and gives Paul (the innkeeper) the two greatest commandments of love to God and neighbor (the two denarii), promising to return again. However, the context of the parable of the good Samaritan is the Pharisee's question, "Who is my neighbor?" In other words, the parable is an answer to the Pharisee's attempt to minimize the obli-gations of Leviticus 19:18 and to narrow the scope of his responsibility for the welfare of others. It is not a sermon on how Christ would redeem the world. It seems likely that these allegorical correspondences have little to do with the original meaning of the parable.  In the latter part of the nineteenth century, Adolf Jtilicher argued that parables are never allegories.14 According to him, a parable has only one significant point, and other details are simply there for the sake of telling the story. The details of the robbers, the innkeeper, the payment of money, etc., are all incidental to the main point, which is that, unlike standard Jewish thinking, responsibilities toward one's "neighbor" extend across racial, ideological, and geographic boundaries. Jtilicher's criticism was undoubtedly proper with respect to the kind of allegorical approach dominant in his own time. However, the one point that Jtilicher himself tended to find was some obvious and simple moralism, reflective of his own liberal theology. Nonetheless, his approach dominated parable interpretation during the twentieth century.15 However, the principle of one point seems a bit exaggerated. Some parables, such as the parable of the vineyard tenants in Matthew 21:33-43, clearly have several points of correspondence, and the parable of the sower in Matthew 13 and Mark 4 is interpreted by Jesus, who gives the seed and each of the soils a point of correspondence. Only by removing all evidence of allegorical meaning as inauthentic can it then be "proved" that authentic parables have only one point.16 The more recent studies by M. Boucher17 and J. Drury18 have approached the parables with more recognition of allegorical elements. It is better, therefore, to think of parables as usually having one main point, to which other points must be subordinate.19 The problem with the old approach was not that it interpreted allegorically, but that it interpreted anachronistically, reading contemporary concerns and doctrine into the elements of the parable, without any indication that that was what Jesus was really talking about. Again we are back to the symbol problem; a symbol is extremely adaptable, and the true meaning of a symbol can only be determined on the basis of its contextual use and the cultural background within which it is used. A parable is a "symbol story," and whether it has one symbolic point or several, it will only be understood properly with reference to the cultural situation in first- century Palestine and the particular concerns of Jesus in the context within which the parable was spoken.20 The gospel writers themselves will usually indicate something about the "life setting" of a parable, and it is crucial to pay attention to this setting.21 Jesus' parables often have an unexpected or surprise element in them. Most parables project a familiar world, but then introduce a radically unfamiliar element, something unexpected. It is this surprise element which provokes a hearer to reexamine his worldview, and which thus is the main point of the parable. For example, in the parable of the laborers in the vineyard (Matt. 20:1-16), it is surprising that the employer pays his hirelings the same amount, regardless of their time spent working. This surprise leads us to rethink the matter of "rewards" for what we do in serving God. Unfortunately, much of what would have surprised an original hearer no longer surprises us, and we must put ourselves into the place of a Palestinian Jew of the first century in order to appreciate where the surprise lies. For example, when we hear the parable of the tax collector and the Pharisee (Luke 18:9-14), we are not surprised at the outcome. To us, the Pharisee comes across as a despicable, self-righteous hypocrite. But most first-century Jews admired the Pharisees as the godly folk. Even his prayer, "I thank you that I am not like this tax collector," would not have been regarded as hypocritical arrogance, but as genuine gratitude that God had kept him from a life of sinful wretchedness.22 On the other hand, Palestinian Jews regarded tax collectors as being several rungs lower on the ethical ladder than we would regard child molesters. They were not only dishonest, but traitors to their people. The outcome of the parable, that the tax collector and not the Pharisee was declared to be righteous, was shocking. It shifts from a worldview that looks at righteousness as something we achieve (which was a universal assumption) to one where righteousness means abandoning all thought of our own righteousness. Jesus' parables surprise, because they confront the hearer with the sovereign reign of God, which operates differently from the world. Many parables explicitly, and perhaps all of Jesus' parables implicitly, teach something about the coming manifestation of the sovereign reign of God. "The kingdom of God is like a man who..." does not mean that the kingdom specifically resembles the man in question, but that the story as a whole illustrates something about the kingdom. The most important collection of parables about the kingdom of God is in Matthew 13 and Mark 4. Here we learn a surprising thing about parables: they not only clarify the nature of the reign of God, but also obscure the understanding of those who oppose Jesus. When the disciples asked Jesus about the parables, he told them, "To you has been given the secret of the kingdom of God, but for those outside everything is in parables; so that they may indeed see but not perceive, and may indeed hear but not understand; lest they should turn again, and be forgiven" (Mark 4:11-12). It is difficult to accept, but the parables have a polarizing purpose, in moving faith to greater faith, and moving unbelief to greater unbelief. Jesus is citing Isaiah 6:9-10 here, indicating that this is a judgment of God. The hidden reign of God is revealed to those who follow Jesus, but is hidden even deeper for those who do not. So, in interpreting a parable, we should ask: 1. What is the main purpose or point of this parable? How does it address the historical situation in which it was spoken? 2. How would the symbol(s) of the parable have functioned in first-century Palestine? 3. What would have been surprising or uncomfortable for the first hearers? Having done these, we may ask: 4. How does the parable provoke us into rethinking our understanding of God and his reign? EPISTLES Most of the NT consists of epistles. Although the letter form was as well known in the ancient world as in the modern, using letters for religious instruction was apparently a Christian invention.23 These letters are not simply private correspondence of only occasional significance, but were intended by their authors for circulation (see Col. 4:16) and public reading (see 1 Thess. 5:27). Even the letters addressed to individuals, such as Timothy and Titus, have indications (for example, the fact that they conclude with a blessing to "you" in the plural)24 that they were meant to be read to the church.25 However, many characteristics of the letter are still evident in the NT epistles. The structure of address, opening, body, and closing greetings attends most of them. And this structure is sometimes helpful in interpretation. For example, the opening thanksgiving in Paul's letters appears to be an allusive precis to the entire letter.26 In Philippians 1:5, for instance, Paul mentions his thankfulness for the Philippians' "partnership in the gospel," which may allude to the thanks for the monetary contribution mentioned in chapter 4. And his prayer in 1:8 for the abounding of the Philippians' mutual love may prepare the reader for the exhortation to love in chapter 2 and the urging of Euodia and Syntyche to get along in 4:2. Thus, the opening gives a clue to the content of the letter. Most if not all of the NT epistles were actually written down by a scribe. Sometimes, the scribe is named (Rom. 16:22), and sometimes the apostle wrote a verifying line in his own hand (Gal. 6:11). Since it is not unlikely that at least sometimes the scribe may have had some hand in the actual wording of a letter,27 we may expect that at least sometimes there would be stylistic differences between letters from the same apostle. Thus, the fact that the Pastoral Epistles exhibit a slightly different vocabulary than most of Paul's letters may indicate nothing more than a different secretary, or a greater need to allow the secretary to do the wording. For the same reason, the easily noticed (even in English) stylistic differences between 1 Peter and 2 Peter are not of themselves conclusive evidence against common authorship. The most crucial aspect of NT epistolary writing is that these letters were usually written for a very specific audience, and thus addressed specific situations. Even letters intended for circulation (e.g., 1 Peter) have in mind the specific circumstances of the first readers. Therefore, the interpretation of certain details within the epistles depends on a reconstruction of the circumstances of the first readers. The problem is that these circumstances are usually unknowable apart from the letter itself, which usually assumes rather than describes those circumstances, and the necessary reconstruction is often haphazard guesswork. If we were to read someone else's correspondence today, some of it would be clear, but some would be totally dark, because we would not know what the correspondents both knew. As a general rule, the more an epistle appears to address a specific situation or question, the less certain is our understanding of it. On the other hand, material that appears in more than one epistle is less likely to address specific circumstances, and our interpretation of it is more likely to be sound. APOCALYPTIC Apocalyptic is susceptible to various definitions; for our purposes, we will define it as that literary genre which interprets earthly events, especially the struggles of God's people, as manifestations of the heavenly warfare between God and the forces of evil, and depicts the coming victory of God over those forces by means of symbolic images. By this definition, the only examples of apocalyptic genre in the canonical Bible are certain parts of the book of Daniel and the book of Revelation,28 although perhaps the beginning of Job (1:6-12), the judgment prophecies of Isaiah, and the visions of Ezekiel and Zechariah were precursors to this genre. Distinctive of apocalyptic are its peculiar forms of symbolism, dualism, and messianism. SYMBOLISM Once again the use of symbol is crucial. Apocalyptic, like other biblical materials, was addressed in some way to the contemporary situation. That Daniel was told in 8:26 to "seal up the vision, for it pertains to many days hence," and in 12:4 to "seal the book, until the time of the end," is not to say that the book had no meaning until later, but that the exact nature of the symbolism would not become clear until later. In the meantime, the symbols of both Daniel and Revelation provided comfort and encouragement to the saints who were then enduring the onslaughts of Satan. The great world powers, which even Daniel saw from Babylon, were playing ferocious politics, but God was orchestrating their play and would ultimately restore the sovereignty of his people. Therefore, although we may expect that the meaning of the symbols will not be completely known until the final judgment, they need to be examined in light of the connotations that they had in their original cultural context, and the connections that they had in previously written parts of the Bible. They should not be construed according to what modern associations the symbols might generate. So, when we read in Revelation 9:7-10 about giant locusts, we should not interpret these according to what they resemble to us (some recent enthusiasts have suggested helicopters), but according to what such imagery would have meant to John and his readers, and what connections with other biblical events such imagery evokes (e.g., the plague of locusts in Egypt or the locust swarms of Joel 1). Symbols may remain obscure and identifications tenuous, but the encouragement of the apocalyptic books that God's victory is sure, is clear. DUALISM Dualism in Daniel and Revelation is not a philosophical dualism of real and ideal, but a religious and moral dualism between good and evil, God and Satan. Actually, dualism is not quite the right word, because Satan is not the opposite of God. Rather, Satan sets himself up as a cheap imitation of God, by counterfeiting God's authority and works. Therefore, an important dimension to apocalyptic symbolism in the Bible is the contrast between the true and the counterfeit. In Revelation 1:4, Jesus "is and was and is to come." On the other hand, the sea beast of 17:8 "was, and is not, and is to come." This sea beast is mortally wounded, yet heals (13:3), and obtains its authority from the dragon (13:4). The earth beast exercises the authority of the sea beast, and performs great signs, even making fire come down from heaven (Rev. 13:12-13). In chapters 12-13, Satan (the dragon), the sea beast (Satan's image), and the false prophet (the earth beast, who persuades people to worship the sea beast, 13:12), are set up as an unholy trinity in contrast to God (the Father), Christ (God's image), and the Holy Spirit (the persuader). MESSIANISM The third characteristic of biblical apocalyptic is that the great victory of God over Satan is brought about by a messianic figure.29 Already in Daniel we see the divine figure, one who "like a son of man" receives dominion in the future (7:13-14), and who "like a son of the gods" stands with his people in their adversity (3:25), and who as the anointed (messianic) prince is even "cut off, and shall have nothing" (9:26).30 But Revelation is completely dominated by this figure, who is now identified as Jesus. He is described in language identifying him unmistakably as God (1:12-18), who has authority over the churches (chaps. 2-3), who is worshiped by the heavenly creatures (5:8), who is worthy to open the scrolls that bring history to its fulfillment (5:9), who executes judgment on unholy Babylon (19:11-16), etc. Like the Bible as a whole, apocalyptic in the Bible is focused on Jesus Christ; he is the victor in the heavenly conflict, and any interpretation of the symbols in Daniel or Revelation that loses sight of this focus on Christ misses the mark.  Naturally, there are many other genres and forms within the Bible that we have not even touched upon, particularly wisdom literature. But we hope this survey has provided an introduction to how the various genres of the Bible testify to the God who saved us, is saving us, and will save us, through his Son Jesus Christ.  9 THE BIBLE IN WORSHIP AND WITNESS We have already described the spiral of growth that takes place as a reader is transformed by his interpretation so that he becomes a better interpreter. The change is often subtle and subconscious, taking place at the level of presuppositions and theological frameworks. But it would be a mistake to assume that this is the only mechanism for growth. A more conscious effort to live out the Bible's message is both expected and demanded by the Bible itself (e.g., James 1:22-25). Deliberate obedience is essential. It is not simply one of several options for enhancing Christian growth; it is fundamental to the Christian life, from its starting point of repentance and faith to the last breath a Christian draws before he is finally transformed in Christ's presence. It is an element that can easily be lost in popular presentations of "the gospel." Indeed, Christians are those who obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ (see 2 Thess. 1:8; 1 Peter 4:17), not merely "vote for Jesus." Maturity is not found in an advanced knowledge of doctrine, but in experienced discernment between right and wrong (Heb. 5:11-6:3) and a deeply personal knowledge of God (Col. 1:10). Doctrine has not been known properly until it has been lived out (James 2:14-19). Thus, a book on interpreting the Bible should not fail to address the question of how to apply it practically. We shall focus on three areas of life: worship and witnessing will be covered in this chapter, and guidance in the next chapter. These have been chosen because they are often the areas in which the Bible is most needed and yet, paradoxically, is often subordinated to human ideas. SCRIPTURE AND WORSHIP By "worship" we mean the conscious expression of praise for God privately or publicly, although we shall emphasize the public or congregational context. Worship in its fullest sense is expressed through a whole life that brings praise to God. But here we are considering those times when worship is articulated in either private devotions or the church's corporate life. We shall consider two aspects of the place of Scripture in worship: first, the specific matter of biblical teaching, and, second, the more general matter of forms of corporate worship. THE TEACHING MINISTRY We can only worship the God we know. In fact, we shall always worship the "god" we know, whether it be the true God or not. If our god is of our own making, then we shall worship accordingly. If we are to give God acceptable worship, then we must seek to know him better, to discern what pleases him, and, since he is transcendent above all natural human comprehension, this is possible only insofar as he reveals himself. In John 14:21, Jesus says, "Whoever has my commands and obeys them, he is the one who loves me. He who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I too will love him and show myself to him." This raises the question of how the Lord will "show himself." Will it be by some form of contemporary revelation? This would be necessary, if God's self-revelation in the Bible were incomplete. We would argue that this is not the case; certainly our understanding may be incomplete, but in the pages of Scripture, God has delivered all that we need. While this does not logically preclude any extrabiblical revelation, it strongly implies that it is unnecessary.1 Rather, John 14:21 reveals a cycle of transformation whereby the more the interpreter's presuppositions and goals are improved by exposure to Scripture, the better his interpretation will become and the more he will discover about the Lord. Once again, it is the spiral of growth in interpretive skill; the Lord manifests himself to those who obey his commandments, because obedience transforms their minds so that their philosophical and theological frameworks change, their hermeneutics improve, and their eyes are opened to see more of God's self-revelation in his Word. If we are to worship God intelligently, then, exposure and obedience to his Word are a sine qua non. We have already argued that every individual has the right and the obligation to study, interpret, and apply Scripture, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit. But, in addition, certain people have been entrusted with the privilege of teaching in the church (Eph. 4:11; 1 Tim. 4:11-14; 5:17; 2 Tim. 2:24; Rom. 12:7; 1 Peter 4:10-11), and for this reason the regular exposition of Scripture has been a vital component of corporate gatherings of the Christian church since the first century (see Acts 2:42). Theologically, the importance of teaching is justified on the grounds that man is not capable of pulling himself up morally by his own bootstraps, and so God has once again stepped in with the provision of a gift for his people (Eph. 4:11).2 The history of redemption is one of God reaching down to man, speaking by word, deed, and incarnation in order to rescue him from his own self-inflicted catastrophe. The gospel is interventionist, both in its initial impact on the unbeliever and in its lifelong effect on the believer as he is taught (not merely teaches himself) and grows toward Christlikeness through obedience. Spiritual maturity cannot be manufactured; it is grown from within by the work of the Holy Spirit, using the understanding gained through God's Word and bringing conviction of truth (2 Tim. 2:15; John 16:8). At both an individual and a corporate level, human beings cannot "reach God" merely by sitting in silence, as if emptying the mind would bring God closer. A time of silence will produce true worship only if it has first been fed by God's Word, so that it is in fact a time of meditation. Anything else will merely allow the human heart to go astray (Matt. 15:17- 19). We are not arguing at all against the practice of silence. Most people today have the opposite problem of a lifestyle that precludes times of quiet reflection, but the point here is that mere navel contemplation will lead only to great ungodliness (Matt. 12:34; Jer. 17:9). And yet there is a constant temptation to reduce the impact of God's Word in the life of our churches. There are two discernible tendencies: either the Bible is not used enough, being displaced by the more "interesting" aspects of worship, or it is used naively, so that there is an appearance of commitment to Scripture, while in fact superstitions eviscerate its message. Let us now examine these two problems. Use the Bible! The first tendency, that of not using the Bible enough, happens surprisingly easily. Life becomes busy with a variety of worthwhile activities; youth activities retain teenagers' attention by emphasizing entertainment; home fellowship groups spend increasingly longer time sharing news and prayer requests before turning to the Bible; corporate worship meetings are livelier and in some cases better attended when music, drama, discussion, liturgy, etc., are preferred above "tedious sermons." We hasten to add that each of these can be good and often vital activities, but they should not displace the Bible. In some cases, sermons should indeed be blamed for being tedious. There has been a misunderstanding about the meaning of the word preach. It has been assumed that preaching is a monologue delivered to a congregation, in a certain style or tone, with a minimum of visual aids, lasting between ten and sixty minutes. It would not take much to stretch the definition in some cases to include a wooden pulpit, an eleven o'clock starting time, a suit and tie, and a hymn sandwich. But there is nothing sacrosanct about such forms of preaching; there is room for variety and innovation. Preaching in the NT is simply the communication of a message; it is the ordinary method for disseminating news or instructing pupils. Indeed, the words preach and teach are interchangeable for our purposes.3 By locking the teaching of Scripture into a particular set of forms,4 some congregations have been dissuaded from giving it a valued place in worship services. Preachers, thinking they were feeding hungry souls with biblical truth, have in fact discouraged them from using the Bible! However, there is an appropriateness about the human spoken word as a method of teaching. It suits the idea of God's communication being via language and delivered person-to-person. The Lord has not merely laid down a book of ideas for us to pick up and use at our leisure; he has addressed us as persons, urgently calling us to hear and understand him. This is certainly not an excuse for lazy preaching, as if every other aspect of corporate worship may be lively and relevant in form, but preaching will remain in the doldrums if it is endowed with an untouchable mystique. On the contrary, once we understand what the Bible is all about, we will want to communicate its message in as interesting and sensitive a way as we can manage. Correct use of the Bible stimulates an appetite for further use. In some situations, the preaching of God's message could take many different forms, not departing from the principle of communication person- to-person via language, but, for example, using television and other electronic devices to support and enhance the delivery. We are well aware of the limitations of television and other media,5 but the point must be made that the homiletical need is a reflection of the hermeneutical one: God's rich and beautiful revelation deserves to be expressed appropriately and imaginatively. At the time of inscripturation, the message of the Bible was often embedded in the most powerful images of the day, such as Jere- miah's land deals, Hosea's traumatic marriage, or Ezekiel's cooking with dung.6 Similarly, therefore, it would surely be appropriate to use all reasonable means to expound God's Word for his people, "plundering the Egyptians"7 in our attempt to find the most effective tools of communication, provided of course that depth is not abandoned for the sake of style. Like William Booth, who asked, "Why should the devil have all the best music?" we might ask today, "Why should the devil have all the best computers?" Whatever the method, a conscious effort is needed to preserve a place of the highest priority for the teaching of Scripture, so that our worship is intelligent and acceptable to God, and to reflect the richness and profundity of God's self-revelation in the teaching method. The importance of teaching is expounded in well-known passages such as 2 Timothy 3:14-17 and Titus 2, emphasizing especially that it is the method by which godly living is engendered. Paul exhorted Timothy to employ his teaching gift (1 Tim. 4:11-16), and Peter exhorted all who have this gift to use it with authority (1 Peter 4:10-11; see also Rom. 12:7). Above all, Jesus himself chose a teaching role at the very beginning of his public ministry, entering the synagogues in the area where he was brought up, immediately following his forty days of temptation (Matt. 4:23; Luke 4:14-27). It is also interesting to note that the importance of the teaching ministry underlies some passages that have been the subject of interpretive dispute. First Timothy 2:11-15 is usually understood to be addressing the role of women, but one of its central themes is the responsibility that devolves upon anyone who exercises the ministry of teaching, recognizing that God's message carries authority and therefore will affect lives. The passages that are often regarded as "difficult" because they deal with spiritual gifts (e.g., 1 Corinthians 14 or Romans 12) are important because they are actually intended to instill a sense of responsibility in worship meetings, particularly in anyone who instructs others. One import of many such passages is: Use the Bible! Using the Bible intelligently. The Bible deserves the most careful handling of any book on earth, yet so often it is treated with laughable naivete. It can happen in congregations where preaching is indeed a regular feature of congregational life, where efforts are made to teach attractively, perhaps using all of the communications techniques at their disposal. But, at the same time, there may be a degree of superstition attached to the use of the Bible, so that, for example, it is believed that a non-Christian is certain to be affected if only he will come within earshot of the sermon (whether or not it is sound, relevant, logical, or delivered in modern language),8 or that Christians will be built up spiritually in proportion to the length of time they sit listening to sermons, whether or not their teaching content is biblical.9 On the contrary, we would reply, exposure to empty preaching may be worse than nothing. Much that we have already said regarding presuppositions, language, methodology, etc., applies further to the ministry of teaching. Passing on the study to others repeats the dynamics of study, albeit in more dilute form. Regular preaching is the aural equivalent of repeated reading, with the added benefit of the preacher's insight. The purpose is not that the hearers should learn outlines and doctrines by rote, but rather that they should interact with God's Word. The great eighteenth-century preacher George Whitefield was accustomed to preaching to vast numbers of Welsh miners-sometimes as many as nine thousand at a time. They would congregate on the hillside above their mines after each day's shift was over, their tears of repentance running white streaks down their coal-blackened faces. Whitefield's critics, however, once accused him of wasting his time. "We have been surveying your audience," they told him, "and they cannot even remember the text you used three days ago." "My friends," Whitefield replied, "you have missed the point; they do not come here to memorize my sermons, but to come under an influence."10 One of the main purposes of public teaching, then, is for the hearers to interact with God's Word, to come under the influence of its Author. They would be wise, like the Bereans, having first received it with an open mind, to test the message against known biblical truths (Acts 17:11), so that they can submit to the newly understood truth. However, there is an even more important process of change that then takes place subconsciously by exposure to the Author. We are all under the influence of many authors for greater lengths of time, most of them non-Christian, simply by absorbing daily media communications. And we gradually become like the people with whom we spend time; we absorb their values and standards, their likes and dislikes, their goals and presuppositions. Those who spend time with God develop not just an understanding of his ways, but also an agreement with them. Their values are transformed so that they are empowered both to want and to do his will (Phil. 2:13). The teaching of Scripture must therefore serve this purpose; it must accurately present biblical truths, so that the Author's voice is heard above all others. Furthermore, the Bible itself is not the final goal of our inquiry. It is an expression of God himself, and he, not merely his Word, should be the object of our worship. There is always a danger of intellectualism, of being infatuated with the words of Scripture or with precise formulations of its doctrine, rather than with its Author. It has been known for certain Christians, in their enthusiasm for God's Word, to attribute to it a sort of magical power, whereby mere exposure to its pages will change people, as though the words themselves were effective, rather than their Author being effective through them. A biblical phrase tucked away in a longer quotation, or sung repetitively like a mantra, is thought to be irresistible. In some cases, the Bible is used like an offensive weapon, the recipient finding it to be exactly that-simply offensive-while the user believes it will work automatically because it is "the Word" which "will not return to me empty" (citing Isa. 55:11). This is naive, depending upon a trinity consisting of Father, Son, and Holy Scriptures-attributing to the Bible work that is done by the Holy Spirit.11 It is the Author who should occupy the center of our attention; he is the only reason why we go to so much trouble over his book. When we receive a letter from an important person, we certainly honor the letter (and might even frame it for display), but only because of the status of the author. The letter itself has worth only because it is an expression of, and a means of access to, a person who has worth and whom we respect. In order to keep our focus in the right place, therefore, it is unwise to draw undue attention in the pulpit to the hermeneutics being employed; the pilgrim's eyes must stay on the shrine, not on the path that leads to it. It leads to tedious preaching and distracts from the message itself. In any case, there is little point to trying to teach study methods in the pulpit; it has a relatively minor impact, compared to the unconscious transmission of the actual principles employed by the preacher as he speaks. We absorb hermeneutical methods all the time that we hear teaching of any kind; the preacher's hermeneutics will be transmitted subliminally to become the hearer's hermeneutics too, just as the preacher's own hermeneutics will become a reflection of the Bible's own interpretive principles if he has been exposed to it long enough.12 A teacher therefore has a responsibility to strive for excellence in his interpretive skills, and he should usually let the teaching itself be the medium for transmitting hermeneutical principles to the hearers. It is for this reason that expository preaching has earned wide respect. By this we mean preaching that unfolds God's Word, exposing it to view, revealing its principal themes, and making the meaning clear. It does not mean a pedantic plodding through the Bible, dismantling texts syllable by syllable without regard to the overall intended meaning. Rather, good expository preaching gives close attention to the genre, context, style, history, and theology of each book, and flows with the themes, unpacking them in a manner consistent with the authorial intent and applying them with a thorough understanding of the present-day world. Without encroaching too far into the subject of homiletics, we must repeat that the style of a public teaching ministry is inextricably bound up with the hermeneutics of its message. That style will include some relevance to the context of the hearers' world.13 When the teacher is in his study, his exegetical work should not stop with abstract meanings, but go on to identify a range of possible applications. It ought first to affect his own life and become part of his personal transformation. This kind of hermeneutical endeavor will energize the teacher and assist him in expositing the Bible as the exciting book that it is. He does not enter the pulpit as a disinterested messenger, but as a person in living unity with his message. None of this can be accomplished, of course, without setting aside adequate time for preparation. A teacher needs first to be a student,14 giving conscious effort to examining presuppositions (both Scripture's and ours), researching historical and cultural background (both the text's and ours), understanding genres, unpacking linguistic nuances, identifying applications, etc., to say nothing of the "life preparation" by prayer and other personal disciplines that are important for a minister of the Word. ASSESSING OTHER ASPECTS OF WORSHIP BY THE BIBLE  It is tempting to regard the use of Scripture simply as one aspect of worship, albeit an important one. In congregational worship, it might be confined to particular times in the service reserved for reading or exposition. Or, in private worship, it might be the first portion of the session, after which time is given to prayer, etc. But this would reduce Scripture from its intended purpose. In considering our hermeneutics, there are important applications to all aspects of worship, just as there are applications to all of life. Public worship meetings. Scripture provides the benchmark by which all expressions of worship should be measured. It would be inconsistent for us to strive for sound interpretive skills in Bible study without ensuring that we sing hymns, recite liturgy, or pray in a manner concordant with biblical truths. In a more subjective sense, as we grow in our interpretive skills and taste afresh some of the goodness of the Lord through reading his Word, we find that the imitations taste more than a little insipid. As an example from hymnody, let us consider the phrase "emptied himself of all but love."15 Does this mean that Jesus divested himself of all his divine attributes except love? This may seem a slightly pedantic example, but the question of doctrine in hymns is important if we are to honor Jesus in all his glory. Some hymns are replete with hermeneutical flaws, particularly certain Christmas carols, yet it is amazing how easily we slip into singing them without a second thought about whether we are giving God acceptable worship. Could it really have been true to say, in that primitive Bethlehem maternity room, "The cattle are lowing, the baby awakes, but little Lord Jesus no crying he makes"? Does the carol "We Three Kings" really reflect the biblical record?16 And why do some Christians still sing "O Christmas Tree" (apart from sheer pagan tradition)? With some modern hymns, the problem has reached crisis proportions. There are some excellent modern hymns, which have made an outstanding contribution to the church's worship, but there has also been a notable trend away from critical analysis in recent decades.17 What is meant by the phrase "As we worship, build your throne"? Is God's throne incomplete? Why does another one say, "Worship his majesty"?-almost always spelled with a small m, as though we are worshiping an attribute of God, rather than God himself. Is careful biblical analysis not required before we sing these songs with gusto? The emphasis and tone may also need scrutiny. One well-known modern song sheet has thirty-five songs beginning with "I," but only three beginning with "Lord," "God," "Jesus," etc.-and even these go on to put the emphasis back on "me." Many modern songs, in fact, are rather man-centered, so that, even if the individual sentiments are true, the overall emphasis is not on God at all. For example, after repeating "praise his name" a dozen times, one song makes its point by saying, "Praise his name and you will never be the same." This may be true, but it implies, wrongly, that the primary purpose of praise is to have a wonderful, life-changing experience. God must be praised simply because he is worthy of praise. When we begin to evaluate our hymns and choose those which accord as closely as possible with Scripture, and when we apply principles of hermeneutics to our understanding of the hymns themselves, our singing takes on an intentional quality and the church's music is more easily regarded as meaningful worship. Too often, without this effort, hymns and other music are treated as a means to drown out the noise of latecomers arriving, children leaving, or collections being taken. Not only is this a wasted opportunity, but it is surely an insult to God to pretend to be singing his praises, while in fact taking care of the congregational housekeeping duties. Rather, hymns are intended to be an expression of biblical truth applied to our lives-truth that has come to us by way of God's revelation in Scripture. Otherwise, we are merely babbling like pagans, not knowing whom we worship. This is stated explicitly in Colossians 3:16-17: Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom, and as you sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs with gratitude in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him. The context of this passage is an exhortation to live holy lives based on Christ's redemptive work and in the light of our privileged status as God's chosen people. The immediate context deals with corporate relationships, and the passage itself gives practical advice on how to achieve growth in Christlikeness in these areas. The "word of Christ" is declared to be the foundation for teaching, admonishing, and singing. This actually takes the process a step further: hymns and other expressions of praise should not merely be evaluated by Scripture, but be driven positively by the word of Christ. Scripture is not merely a "sieve" of doctrine; it should be the creative and motivating force behind our worship. What is true for hymns is true also for prayers: they can be served or stifled by the degree to which they are consistent with Scripture. Prayer is certainly blocked by an unwillingness to obey God's law: "If anyone turns a deaf ear to the law, even his prayers are detestable" (Prov. 28:9). With prayer, however, we have the distinct advantage that there is no hermeneutical problem for God; he understands every thought and every word, even before it is formed (Ps. 139:1-4), and the Holy Spirit intercedes on our behalf when we do not know what to pray for (Rom. 8:26-27). Yet prayer is effective only insofar as it seeks God's will (John 14:13-14; 1 John 5:14), and this is known progressively by understanding Scripture better. It is by God's Word that we discover his character, his wishes, his heart-and so are able to seek what pleases him. It is surely no accident that the early Christians "devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and to the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer" (Acts 2:42). Later their prayers were answered with dramatic effect (Acts 4:31), and on that occasion (Acts 4:23-31) it is even recorded that they based their intercession deliberately on Psalm 2 (vv. 25-26). Private prayer can become very meaningful by the practice of "praying through" Bible reading-that is, talking to God about the truths that are unfolding through the reading or study of his Word, as the study itself progresses. As new dimensions of God's character are revealed, they might lead spontaneously to praise, so that private prayer is driven by Scripture. All aspects of corporate worship services can be evaluated hermeneutically. Liturgy, testimony, and sacrament can all be improved by careful comparison to biblical understanding. Even the public reading of Scripture, which is usually considered not to require great skill, can be enhanced by reading it intelligently.18 A person who has thoroughly studied his text will be able to read it sensitively, so that the hearers are already deepening their insight, even before a word of the sermon has been uttered. Awareness of genre, structure, style, and principal themes will be transmitted subconsciously, and the sermon will begin with the advantage that the congregation has an instinctive appreciation of the passage.19 Private worship. The ministry of the Word is not always a public matter; it should be a vital part of private worship. There has been a valuable popular movement in the twentieth century that fosters good devotional habits. Once the activity of only the most committed saints, particularly monks, ministers, or missionaries, it has been recognized as the privilege of every Christian to develop a system of private worship, and the forms vary enormously. While traditionalists have treasured periods of reflection and prayer, perhaps with liturgy, the simple "quiet time" has transformed the lives of millions of evangelicals. The ministry of God's Word is just as vital in private worship as it is in public worship. There is, in fact, a temptation to become sloppy or cavalier with matters of interpretation when they are not subject to the scrutiny of fellow believers. Perhaps pride, bringing a rare benefit, restrains us from announcing foolish interpretations in public-that is, when the audience shares a commitment to sound hermeneutics. But the restraint is off in the privacy of personal devotions, and there can be a tendency to say, "What does it matter, if my reading blesses my heart and if it all leads to worship anyway?" Many a believer has opened the Bible in private devotions and become resigned to superficial reading. There can be a wedge driven between the "quiet time" and "Bible study," the former being a time of rather shallow reflection and the latter a more serious effort to study intelligently. We would argue that no such distinction should exist; the hermeneutics of Bible study should be consistent. It may be necessary, of course, to limit the scope of, say, an early morning devotional time, so that it is really drawing on study at other times and concentrating on committing the new day to the Lord, but even the shortest reading of Scripture should be governed by sound hermeneutical principles. It makes no sense at all to expound the prophecy of Jeremiah thoroughly for a sermon or Bible study group, only to slip back into searching the book for superficial "blessings" in times of private devotions.20 Personal prayer and praise, just as much as congregational worship, must be addressed to God as he has revealed himself, not in some spuriously abbreviated form that happens to suit the limitations of our devotional time. There has been a revival of interest in some aspects of private worship which draw on traditional approaches, some of them dating back long before the Reformation. Thousands of Christians have gained spiritual benefit, for example, through exemplars of prayer and meditation dating back to our spiritual forebears of past centuries. There is a particular danger here, though, in the context of private worship, because so much depends on the individual's thoughts. Some popular meditation techniques appear to depend upon Scripture as their basis, but in fact depart from it and lapse into eisegesis.21 Typically, the reader tries to imagine himself in the biblical situation, perhaps walking and talking with the disciples, or discussing prophecy with a prophet, or meeting Paul in the marketplace. So far, so good; we have already suggested the proper place for sane imagination (see chap. 5, under "Culture and Understanding"). But it is easy to move on to alter the meaning by filling in too much, by a lack of guiding background materials, or especially by creating parts that are more interesting than Scripture itself! In such cases, it is tempting to apply what we think Scripture should or could have said, rather than what it actually says. There is a similar temptation to make portions of Scripture say what we want them to say when we have a strong personal agenda. It may be an agenda of doctrine, reinforcing our favorite systems, or it may be related more directly to behavior. Such is the power of sin in our lives that we will manipulate meanings which accord with our preferred behavior, while still feeling bound to read the Bible and seek the security of even feigned obedience. It is a genuine self-delusion; we want to convince ourselves that we really are obeying God. Thus, an individual might settle for a superficial reading because it affirms a preconceived notion-a temptation that is particularly strong in private meditation, since there is little public accountability. Perhaps that is why the Pharisee could so easily pray, with a mistaken sense of security, "God, I thank you that I am not like other men" (Luke 18:11). His worship was built around an understanding that suited his complacency. Here is a strong argument for the use of commentaries and other study aids. A well-chosen commentary will ask questions that might otherwise be missed, add helpful historical or cultural perspective, and point toward the central truths of passages. This is especially important when reading familiar portions of the Bible. A further safeguard is provided when private worship is associated with public worship, for then it has the support of the teaching ministry. SCRIPTURE AND WITNESS This is not a how-to book on evangelism, but it is important to understand that the Bible is fundamental in the proclamation of God's deeds for humanity, and should not, consciously or unconsciously, be relegated to a secondary status. The question of evangelism touches the very center of Christian epistemology. How can we know anything? And, especially, how can a non- Christian know enough about God to put his faith in him? There is an obvious gap between the individual's perception and God's perception- and a moment's reflection will reveal that it is much more than a gap: it is a yawning chasm, an infinity of distance, both qualitatively and quantitatively, separating the omniscient, pure, and eternal God from the ignorant, sinful, and finite human being. Only arrogance leads us to minimize the distance. Most approaches in witnessing are an attempt to bridge this epistemological gap, but they succeed only insofar as they are founded on God's own approach to the problem, that is, through the revelation that he has already given. Only God can bridge the gap and cause someone to know him. When Scripture is neglected and we resort to our own attempt to bridge the gap, the form is bound to be one of two principle types, or some combination of them. The first we could call the intellectual approach, and the second we could call the subjective approach. THE TWO "WORLDLY" APPROACHES The intellectual approach attempts to prove by reason the logical superiority of Christianity over other philosophies, or else its compatibility with some au courant secular philosophy. This of course involves the search for some common ground of reason upon which Christians and non- Christians can agree. Unfortunately, once human reason by itself has been made the arbiter of truth, then our authority is no longer God's Word and we are bound to run into problems. In severe cases, the effort to be intellectually acceptable results in compromising or changing the Word in order to be compatible with reason or current trends in secular thinking. The subjective approach apparently repudiates the intellectual approach and focuses instead on what may seem to be irrefutable because it is based on experience rather than logic. It may be some immediate and visible effect attributed to the Holy Spirit or to God's power given in support of evangelism. It may be an intensely personal, but persuasive experience, as the result of which the individual "knows" that God has spoken inwardly (where lies a good deal of modern gnosticism).22 Or it may simply be the social environment of acceptance.23 Whatever the phenomenon, it is expected to impress the unbeliever and overcome his intellectual difficulties. However, it also relies on a humanly devised ground of evaluation, lacking the transcendent objectivity that has come from God by means of revelation-that is, in his Word. Before unpacking this in a little more detail, let us note that Paul's approach was different from either of these. In 1 Corinthians 1:22-23, he mentions both of these alternatives: the Greeks, he says, admire wisdom- intellectual persuasion-and the Jews prefer signs of power. But, instead, Paul simply offers a message, a gospel that is intellectually foolish to the Greeks (see Acts 17:22-34) and is weak and a stumbling block to the Jews. Certain miracles did occur in his ministry, but they were secondary to the message, and Paul minimized their importance. The preaching that is "not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit's power" (1 Cor. 2:4) is not preaching by miracle-working, but preaching that is itself imbued with the power of God (2:5). Paul makes it clear in the context that the power of God is found in the message of the cross (1:18), for Christ himself is both the power and the wisdom of God (1:24). THE UNDERLYING ISSUE We began this section by noting that the use of Scripture in evangelism is a subject that touches upon the central issues of Christian epistemology. In exploring this further, we must at once recognize that everyone does in fact know some truths about God. Even though we are incapable of reaching or understanding God in a saving way, we unavoidably have a basic knowledge by general revelation of God's eternal power and godhead -and this knowledge renders us inexcusable in our rejection of God (Rom. 1:18). To further this knowledge, we must turn to further revelation, and this is possible, we shall argue, only on the basis of Scripture. But that very idea is repugnant to a secular mind. Every day, people discover something new- new to human knowledge, that is. Scientists unveil staggering secrets that were hitherto locked away in nature's vault; there seems to be no limit to what we can know-all it takes is time, money, effort, and expertise for the secrets to be located and exposed as trophies to man's omnicompetent skills. And so we begin to view the universe as ours, just waiting to be grasped, piece by piece. We might say, then, that among all the facts of the universe waiting to be discovered are the facts about God. To be sure, as we investigate these facts, we find that God is the greatest fact of all. Further, we might argue that all reason and logic point to him, that anyone who is willing to "take an unbiased look at the facts" will invariably discover the wealth of evidence which is waiting to be observed and which will lead the inquirer to God. Such a line of thinking must be commended for its attempt to respect God's greatness and to lead unbelievers to him, but ultimately it is a distortion of the truth. God is not merely one of the facts; he is not even "the greatest fact of all." We must acknowledge him as the only original, self-existent, and complete fact (ignoring for the sake of this argument that he is a person, rather than just a fact), and any other facts in the universe are derived from him. God, rather than man, is the starting point for any understanding or argument. In the words of C. Van Til: The essence of the non-Christian position is that man is assumed to be ultimate or autonomous. Man is thought of as the final reference point in predication. The facts of his environment are "just there"; they are assumed to have come into being by chance... the laws of logic are assumed as somehow operative in the universe, or at least as legislative for what man can or cannot accept as possible or probable. If a god exists, he must at least be subject to conditions that are similar to, if not the same as, those to which humanity itself is subject.24 It is true that, as far as we can perceive with our human limitations, our world points to him. "Ask the animals, and they will teach you... that the hand of the LORD has done this" (Job 12:7-9). But that is only because God has chosen to reveal himself partly by means of the creation. At the very least, the creation displays the likeness of its Creator. However, God did not need to create the universe in order to give himself more meaning or significance; he did not create man because he needed an object to love, as though, without man, he suffered some kind of deficiency. He could have remained himself, perfect, complete, infinite, without ever having created anything. Indeed, this is his eternal state irrespective of his founding of the world, difficult though it may be for us to grasp. God remains self-existent in the "eternally present tense." Jesus exclaimed, "Before Abraham was born, I am!" (John 8:58), and the Scripture says of him, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning" (John 1:1-2).25 Every new understanding that we gain about God from the Bible should lead us to adjust our own thinking about every other aspect of life as well, and should stand in obvious superiority to humanly based ideas. As Calvin said in the sixteenth century, "The scriptural teaching concerning God's infinite and spiritual essence ought to be enough, not only to banish popular delusions, but also to refute the subtleties of secular philosophy."26 But it is often the other way around: we attempt to use minds that have been gripped in the subconscious stranglehold of secular philosophy to make arrogant predications about the being and nature of God. We go to human reason as the final court of appeal and accept God's existence only if it "makes sense,"27 or we accept the Bible as God's Word only if it appears "noncontradictory" to our dulled and prejudiced minds. Such is the arrogance of the human condition, while all the time God graciously gives us breath with which to make such conceited utterances. May we indulge in a little imagination in the interests of making this point clear? We are like frogs in a swamp in a farmer's field, who arise from the mire and croak about whether or not the farmer exists. We send out forays into the surrounding fields and discover that they are made of similar materials, although bearing an appearance much different from our swamp. We cannot help noticing how orderly the whole farm is, even though our swamp is such a mess, and we conclude that there is possibly a Rather Intelligent Frog somewhere behind it all. And this Frog should be grateful for our interest, impressed with our momentous discovery. Meanwhile, the farmer is busy clearing up the swamp, creating a clear, attractive pond with smooth rocks to sit on, and encouraging frogs in their own language to migrate into it and thus be saved from their disease-ridden filth. However, he could have chosen to bulldoze the whole lot. The farmer has even waded into the mud to pick up and move a few frogs, who are thus aware of this and are heard to say, "He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand" (Ps. 40:2). But many others respond, "That's enough for now! You may leave. When I find it convenient, I will send for you" (Acts 24:25). THE BIBLICAL APPROACH  It should be apparent, then, that the Bible has a unique and fundamental role in witnessing. It is not merely a collection of texts with which to club the unbeliever, or a source of witty sayings to impress and entice him. It is also much more than a field of study offered to the seeker, so that he may discover information in his "investigation of the facts." It is much more than a record of testimonies with which he can identify and be drawn into sympathy. And it is much more than an apologetic treatise designed to marshal the arguments and persuade the reader intellectually. The Bible is, of course, all of these things. It is the supreme treatise, testimony, record of theological facts, and collection of witty proverbs and aphorisms-paramount among all literature. But its role in witnessing is infinitely more than these; it is nothing less than God's self-revelation. The almighty God is condescending to communicate with mere human beings concerning their redemption, and therefore he shall be heard. Indeed, when we consider the impact of this statement, it is paltry to speak of the Bible having a "role" in anything; it is incomparably GOD SPEAKING. Accuracy in interpretation is therefore vital if unbelievers are to hear God speaking. The Bible must be understood as it was intended to be understood, and herein lies an enormous challenge in the context of witnessing. It is our belief that the most important purpose of Scripture in witnessing is to reveal the character of God. This is much more significant than presenting a gospel formula. When a person begins to recognize who God is, he or she will be bound to recognize personal sinfulness and seek his mercy. Without this recognition, the gospel formula may be a message eviscerated of a vital element-the need for God's grace and forgiveness. There is little point to dwelling on man's sin in an attempt to persuade him of his guilt; he needs to become aware of the holiness of God if he is eventually to collapse in repentance. When Job finally woke up to the greatness of God, he spoke (using metaphors) of the effect on his attitude: "My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you. Therefore I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes" (Job 42:5-6). When the prophet Isaiah glimpsed the Lord and his glory in the temple, he exclaimed: "Woe to me!... I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the LORD Almighty!" (Isa. 6:5). When Simon Peter realized that the man who had produced the miraculous draft of fish must be none other than the Son of God, he fell in repentance at Jesus' knees and said, "Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!" (Luke 5:8). And when Saul met the risen Jesus on the road to Damascus, he fell to the ground and asked first, "Who are you, Lord?" (Acts 9:5), and then, "Lord, what do You want me to do?" (Acts 9:6 NKJV). The modern equivalent of Job's or Isaiah's vision of God, or Peter's or Saul's encounter with Jesus, is the revelation that God himself has given in his Word. An encounter with him through the Bible will be no less dramatic for the individual concerned. We have already alluded to the logical problem that exists when a believer and an unbeliever are engaged in dialogue: they inevitably find that they are arguing from two self-contained positions. The Christian theistic position is, of course, the only truly rational one. But even though the unbeliever's position is ultimately irrational, he is not going to accept this easily, preferring the security of his apparently self-consistent position to the demands of the gospel. Such is the experience of anyone who has tried to persuade a non-Christian that it is logical for God to have ultimate power and justice despite the existence of evil and suffering in the world, or has tried to proclaim that Christ is the only way to God. The unbeliever quickly opines that the Christian position is merely a cop-out, a self-fulfilling system designed to protect naive religious faith. The only answer is for the unbeliever to come face-to-face with God. Only then will any gospel message make sense. But how is this encounter brought about?28 Broadly speaking, it is brought about both directly and indirectly: Directly, the encounter with the Lord will come about through reading Scripture itself. An unbeliever who genuinely searches for God in its pages will surely find him. Here we must be clear about the purpose of such study. It is not merely to "investigate the facts"; we have already established that God is not merely one of the facts, however great, and in any case the unbelieving mind cannot successfully arrogate to itself such a role. The purpose of studying Scripture is not to identify and evaluate the gospel intellectually, as though it were possible to wrap it up in a neat package, compare it with other systems of philosophy, and then make up one's mind about it, for what court of appeal will prevail? It is not to hold arguments with God, looking for disagreements or debates and measuring success as a kind of score, the best argument winning the prize of the individual's faith; in the unbeliever's system of presuppositions, the Bible will almost certainly appear to fail at some points. Rather, the purpose of direct study of Scripture, for a non-Christian as well as a Christian, must be to meet God-to experience him, learn of his character, and consider the implications. To be sure, multitudes of non- Christians have read the Bible with all the wrong motives (investigative judgment, comparative philosophy, intellectual argument, etc.), and in the end some have been met by God; their testimonies adorn many church fellowships. But sadly there are also other multitudes of non-Christians who have read the Bible, argued with it or in some way found it wanting and rejected it, and have continued on their way even more confirmed in their unbelief. This is a discouraging blow to those Christians who expect exposure to the Bible, for whatever motive, automatically to bring conversion (doubtless quoting Isaiah 55:11 or some similar text). The use of the Bible in the context of witnessing must be to invite the non-Christian to seek God in its pages. The Christian must take care to assist the non- Christian to interpret it correctly, and hence the Christian needs to practice sound hermeneutics, invisibly guiding such study. And here we can report, from our experience, that the individual who genuinely approaches the Bible with such care, searching after God, invariably finds him. Indirectly, the character of God is revealed most importantly through the life of a believer. God also uses both the creation and circumstances to display his character, as we have already mentioned, but it is supremely through this reflection of Christ in the believer that the indirect revelation takes place. Countless numbers of Christians can testify that it was the life of a Christian friend that impressed them and caused them to inquire further.29 The extent of that indirect witness to the character of God depends upon the extent to which God's Word has been lived out in the believer's life, and here our argument reaches full circle: a Christian who is taking care to understand and apply Scripture correctly will more accurately conform to God's will. On the other hand, a Christian who habitually tinkers with words and phrases, bending them to his own interests, whether he applies them with naive subjectivity or clever subtlety, will be robbed of some of its life-transforming power. As Paul explained to the Ephesians, the believer who has received the benefit of preparation by the divinely appointed means will mature toward the goal of "the whole measure of the fullness of Christ" (Eph. 4:11-13). And it is this embodiment of the character of Christ in the life of the believer which is one of the most powerful and irrefutable persuasions of the unbeliever. It brings him face- to-face with the character of God. Scripture, then, is not merely one of the tools in the toolbox; it is, to extend the metaphor, the hand of the mechanic himself. And the quality of our hermeneutics will be reflected in the quality of our witness. One final thought: the training of new believers in the art of good hermeneutics should not begin at conversion, but before conversion. Many a new Christian has begun his pilgrimage with attitudes about the Bible, good or bad, which he has gained by osmosis during his contact with Christians beforehand. As an example, one of the authors of this book knows a man who came to faith after a life of drunkenness and waste. He soon delighted his Christian friends by embarking upon earnest Bible reading and prayer, using the words of the Psalms-habits which had been passed on unconsciously during the previous three years of witness by those same friends. Perhaps the biggest surprise came when he used a passage of Scripture in exactly the same way he had heard it one night when he was severely drunk and nobody could be sure if he could even hear properly. The hermeneutical approach was identical. Similarly, development of sound interpretation need not wait for adulthood. It can be communicated by example to children of a very young age, so that they grow up with good study habits. Although they may never hear the word hermeneutics, such children are perhaps the most privileged children of all.  10 SCRIPTURE AND GUIDANCE Finding God's will" has been virtually an obsession in the modern church, yet the subject remains enigmatic for multitudes of Christians, and a seemingly endless supply of teaching materials does not appear to have abated the demand for help. For many there is a feeling that the Bible has not spoken to the need; even worse, it appears that God offers guidance without actually delivering it. His promise appears to be crystal clear: "I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you and watch over you" (Ps. 32:8), or, "He instructs sinners in his ways. He guides the humble in what is right and teaches them his way" (Ps. 25:8-9). Yet many Christians feel that this has not been their experience. They look with envy at the exiled Israelites, who were told, "The LORD will guide you always" (Isa. 58:11), or, "Your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, 'This is the way; walk in it'" (Isa. 30:21). Are these passages actually promising guidance? This is, of course, a matter of hermeneutics. An expectation that the Bible will speak directly to a contemporary subject using a modern, preconceived idiom leads people to embrace a spurious doctrine, to ask the wrong questions, and therefore to be disappointed with the outcome. In the worst cases, the price is paid in the wreckage of lives as a result of misguided decisions. GUIDANCE NEEDS TO BE IN CONTEXT The first reason for the problem is that the subject of "finding God's will" has been taught in isolation. It has become a category of its own, and a small one at that: a topic for a little booklet, a short talk, or a conference seminar. Attention has been focused on the subject itself, but-quite apart from the fact that it is not possible simply to extract the subject and understand it in isolation-examination of the subject does not guarantee that the guidance itself will be followed. By way of analogy, we might say that a ship's navigator could study the theory of nautical navigation, and possibly understand the process perfectly, but this does not guarantee that he will follow the right course when out at sea. In the case of spiritual guidance, we cannot even study the navigation system quite so easily; it is more of a living, dynamic process. The Lord did not give us a formula for finding his will in Scripture. Instead, he simply commands us to "understand what the Lord's will is" (Eph. 5:17). The method of God's guidance is not at all ambiguous, as we shall see, but neither does it conform to typical human demands. It is simply a waste of time to try to find a step-by-step system of guidance in the Bible, a formula that can be called up and applied when decisions must be made. And yet this is what thousands of Christians have been taught to believe. Like the galactic emperors in the spoof science fiction series The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy, some people spend literally lifetimes waiting for answers to the wrong questions, eventually finding nothing but disillusionment.1 Another analogy may help us to understand the way forward: guidance can be likened to a magnifying glass which we use to focus light from a single source (God) and direct it onto a page (our circumstances). But the light will not focus because there are other sources of light: erroneous ideas about God. These other sources are dimmer, but they emit enough light to be confused with the main source. So there is no shortage of light, but still the beam will not focus. In our frustration, we examine the magnifying glass (our method of "knowing the will of God"); we refine the glass, polish it, put it in a new frame, and adjust its position. Yet no matter how hard we try, the beam will never be in focus until one light source is used exclusively and all the others have been eliminated. It must be the light of God himself, which is expressed only in biblical truth. The others turn out to be mirrors, dimly reflecting parodies of truth. When we make the light source clear, the beam shines brightly and our page is illuminated by a clearly focused spot. Stretching the analogy a little further, we then become enraptured by the brilliance of the true light-not merely thankful for the clarity given to our page, but filled with wonder at the light itself. Our attention is no longer on the magnifying glass, nor even on the page, but on the source of the brilliance. We are attracted to God himself, not merely to his Word. The point is that true guidance comes through our understanding of God. False understandings, like false lights, produce only confusion. WHAT IS "GOD'S WILL"? Not only has the subject of God's will been taught in isolation, but the structure of the subject has usually been forced into an artificial paradigm. It is often assumed that God's will is some kind of blueprint for our lives, which we must somehow try to discover-often just in time to make a major decision. But why we do not need this blueprint to make every decision in daily life? We seem to be able to decide on our breakfast cereal or the color of shirt we wear, yet we feel we must "find God's will" for more important matters such as marriage, career, university, or buying a house. Some say that the difference is in the extent of the moral implications of a decision, so that certain issues are "moral" and others are merely pragmatic or "nonmoral."2 But it could be argued that every decision, no matter how trivial, has a moral dimension-the simplest telephone call or the choice of olive oil rather than lard bears hidden moral consequences for stewardship of time or health, for example-and infringement of one small part of the law is tantamount to guilt for the whole law (James 2:10). Yet most teaching on guidance treats "major" decisions as a special category, needing extra divine assistance, while "minor" decisions are neglected; for these, the individual is on his own. Where is the "guidance threshold"? The question implies the answer: it has something to do with accrued wisdom, which we can apply safely in familiar areas, but not in less familiar areas. The major decisions are usually then subjected to a routine process of "finding God's will." By this it is meant that God has already drawn up the blueprint, and we must now try to discover it; the speed of discovery will be related in some way to our spiritual maturity. It is a cat-and-mouse game of guidance in which we look for hidden clues to what God wants, trying to build up a composite picture and make a decision based on a judgment as to what God appears to be saying at a particular time. Typically, the elements are the Bible, counsel, circumstances, and inner peace, especially through prayer. The Bible is used something like a recorded weather forecast or, at worst, a horoscope. God does indeed know the next step for each of our lives, but there is no mandate in Scripture by which we should seek to know it. On the contrary, we are explicitly commanded to avoid all kinds of divination.3  Confusion has probably been caused by semantic coincidences. In our current translations, there are two Greek words that are commonly rendered "will" in English. One of them, boule (and its cognates), primarily signifies God's purpose, including his plan for our individual lives. It is unchangeable, irresistible, and unavailable to our inquiry. For example, the word occurs in "Who resists his will?" (Rom. 9:19), or, "This man was handed over to you by God's set purpose and foreknowledge" (Acts 2:23).4 There is indeed a blueprint for our lives, but it is God's prerogative alone and has no part to play in our guidance-except to give us reassurance of God's sovereignty (which we shall consider later in the chapter). The other word that is usually translated "will" in English is the Greek word thelema and its cognates, which occurs more than fifty times in the NT. It refers to something that is desired or that one wishes to happen. It is this "will" that we are commanded to know (Eph. 5:17), although in our sinfulness we often disregard it. We are commanded to "stand firm" in God's thelema (Col. 4:12). In every instance of its use in the Bible, it signifies God's wishes as to how we should conduct our lives. For example, "it is God's will that by doing good you should silence the ignorant talk of foolish men" (1 Peter 2:15). It is no accident that a misuse of the word will, wherein the idea of "seeking God's will" has come to mean "finding out his blueprint for the next decision," is often accompanied by similar misuse of words in looking for clues to that guidance in the Bible. The horoscope mentality leads people to find double meanings in words and phrases, and doubtless many readers could cite both humorous and tragic instances of this. Various missionary enterprises, for example, seem to have been led by passages such as: "Enlarge the place of your tent, stretch your tent curtains wide, do not hold back; lengthen your cords, strengthen your stakes. For you will spread out to the right and to the left" (Isa. 54:2-3). Many an earnest Christian has searched the Scriptures daily, looking for God's will about marriage. One of the authors of this book observed the shock and confusion of a young woman who was approached by a man claiming that God had selected her to be his wife by providing him with guidance through no less than a hundred texts. (To the relief of everyone except this man, she later married someone much more suitable.) Often a promise in the Bible does have an obvious contemporary application because of a great fulfillment in Christ or a continuing meaning in the modern age. "Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the LORD your God is giving you" (Ex. 20:12), for example, does have contemporary application (though not an exact one), as is apparent from its citation by Paul in Ephesians 6:4. But the practice of claiming biblical promises without reference to their redemptive-historical context generally reveals a disregard for the hermeneutical principles that should obtain. And, in the matter of biblical promises, there is the added problem of presumptuousness in going to God with "claims." God's will-his thelema-has been made clear in the Scriptures. He has revealed his preference, his wishes, for the way we should conduct our lives. It requires effort to understand and absorb God's wishes, but they are not obscure. The process of studying his Word reveals all his will (2 Tim. 2:15), and no cat-and-mouse game is necessary. It is no surprise, therefore, that Paul commended the Ephe-sian elders "to God and to the word of his grace, which can build you up" (Acts 20:32), and that he commended the Scriptures to Timothy as all he needed for growth and ministry (2 Tim. 3:15-17). Finding God's will is a matter of understanding his Word. Since this book deals to some extent with methods of study and interpretation of God's Word, we shall not expand on the point here. But it must be said that there is often a temptation to avoid the effort involved. Quite simply, good students of Scripture become sound decision makers; in the words of a popular proverb, there is no feast without a sacrifice. Understanding God's Word is a lifelong process, though never complete, of course, but the effort is richly repaid in the knowledge of God's will that it brings. When we consider great and godly people in the church, those who have evidently lived out God's will with all its satisfaction and fruitfulness, we invariably find that they have been assiduous students of Scripture, with a passion to understand it correctly. Here then is the connection between hermeneutics and guidance in the Christian life. Implicit in this pursuit of biblical understanding is the commitment to obey God's will. Study is not pursued merely for the purpose of savoring doctrine in the abstract. Industrious searching for biblical truth, daily meditation on the Word, and striving for sound interpretation are useful only if driven by a desire to please the Lord, to submit to his wishes. SUBMISSION TO GOD  The hermeneutical problem in "finding God's will," therefore, begins with submission to God's Word in the first place, with a willingness to listen to its message, rather than merely playing with the semantics. The attitude of yielding and repentance opens up the whole vista of God's will, since it represents our desire to know his wishes and follow them. A repentant Christian has no interest in manipulating texts in search of a bit of expedient guidance, preferring to find out what God really wants. The unrepentant person withholds obedience until he has more knowledge, but of course his knowledge is never complete. Jesus said that he would be recognized by those who first choose to do God's will (John 7:17); in other words, by those who have begun their way up the hermeneutical spiral by first committing themselves to obeying him. One of the underlying assumptions of the wrong approach to "finding God's will" is that God is at our service, and we open the Bible with a view to its serving our purposes, rather than with a view to our serving God's purposes. Sometimes this attitude begins at conversion, or rather with a form of conversion that we suspect is spurious, that is, a superficial decision to "accept Christ" without the necessary repentance and faith. In the worst cases, it is a response to a message that is nothing more than an appeal to "vote for Jesus," which of course is no gospel at all. The true gospel is a matter of obedience, as we have already noted, and true faith is bound up with a commitment to doing God's will. This is the historic, apostolic gospel. H. Ridderbos, commenting on Paul's view of saving faith, points out that "faith as obedience is of central significance for Paul's conception and is repeatedly defined as such as his epistles."5 UNDERSTANDING GOD AND HIS WAYS Knowing God's will-his wishes-is more than just knowing a code of ethics or following a list of rules for behavior. It is true that, in the Bible, his will is often expressed in the form of laws and commandments, and the Decalogue is certainly a definitive summary of the law. But if we only had a set of commandments, we would be obliged to develop a casuistry in our attempt to cover every eventuality. But even with the best intentions to please God, there would be many situations for which a rule had not been written, and the best we could do would be to extrapolate the law to meet the situation.  The Bible, however, is not just a codebook; it testifies to the character of God. And the Christian has even more: the living Holy Spirit, indwelling and interpreting God's will. This phenomenon is much more than some kind of built-in Bible commentary. It is a means of access to the character of God himself. It is the most dynamic, we might say organic, way to empower us to know God's will. The prophet Ezekiel describes it this way: I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws. (Ezek. 36:26-27) It is therefore paramount that we develop an understanding of God's character and foster a direct, personal relationship with him. We must take advantage of the Holy Spirit's ministry in quickening our minds, convicting us of biblical truth, and empowering us to obey. Here in fact is the crux of the whole question of finding God's will: it is a matter of knowing God, of understanding his ways. There is no shortcut to this. Just as the partners in a good marriage learn to know each other's likes and dislikes in ever-increasing detail, and are then able instinctively to choose what pleases the other, so a Christian who is growing in the knowledge of God is able to choose what pleases him. He or she begins to know God's wishes, his plea-sure, his thelema, more and more instinctively. All decisions in life have an ethical dimension-not one of them is "nonmoral"-and therefore all decisions need to be made on the basis of moral principles. The only ultimate, perfect, moral standards are those contained in the character of God himself, and knowing him is therefore the only way to establish a moral framework for decision making. Here also is the relevance of counsel from fellow believers. In making decisions, it is wise to seek the advice of others (see Prov. 24:6), but this does not mean adding their human wisdom to God's in the hope that the resulting "wisdom soup" will be nourishing; clearly there would be a radical disparity when trying to mix their minds with his. Rather, it means drawing on the counselors' knowledge of God and his ways, based on his self-revelation in Scripture. Going for counsel is not an excuse to find someone who agrees with you; it is to find further insight into the character of God. Counseling may begin simply by turning to the Bible together, not to seek a direct answer to a problem, but to seek the character of God.  We must also note that the study of God's character should be undertaken for its own sake; it is not merely a device for decision making. Certainly, a major benefit of knowing God is the ability to make sound decisions, but God himself should be the focus; anything else would be self- centeredness. Similarly, in living according to God's will, the point is to grow in godly character, not merely to make right choices. God is more interested in building our character than building our career. It is significant that this theme infuses Ephesians 4 before we are given particular ethical instructions and eventually commanded to "understand what the Lord's will is" (5:17). For example, Paul says in 4:14-16: Then we will no longer be infants, tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there by every wind of teaching.... Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will in all things grow up into him who is the Head, that is, Christ. In exhorting us to make right decisions in all our behavior, Paul goes on to say, "Be imitators of God, therefore" (5:1). Decision making is not a matter of applying a formula, but of living out the character of God. We must take the trouble to get to know God, if we are to be imitators of him. Certain aspects of God's character have a particular bearing on the matter of knowing God's will, and yet some of them seem to be the subject of widespread misunderstanding in the church today. Much popular theology is reductionistic; God is not seen as transcendent, immanent,6 or self-existent.7 Above all, although lip service is given to God's sovereignty, he is not seen as truly sovereign in real life, and we shall therefore treat this aspect in more depth. UNDERSTANDING GOD'S SOVEREIGNTY Just as fear can bring crippling symptoms of panic, the assurance of God's sovereignty brings calmness and confidence. The Bible teaches us that God is actively sustaining and maintaining every atom in the universe (Col. 1:17). He is especially concerned about his people (Matt. 10:29-31); we need his merciful protection moment by moment, and without it we would be annihilated (Lam. 3:22). We depend upon him, not merely when we think we need guidance, but for everything all the time.  Most people in the world have experienced some kind of political ruler over them. The degree of power may vary, but the concept of sovereignty as "supreme power and the right to exercise it"8 is hard to escape. However, we must beware of extending our human analogies in order to construct our concept of God. He can never be reduced to something less than infinite. His sovereignty is not merely a greater version of the human ideal; he possesses total and original power and has all the right to use it. Unlike earthly sovereigns, any veiling of his person is not to protect him from our scrutiny, but to protect us from annihilation when confronted with his dazzling glory (Ex. 33:20). Paul proclaimed God as sovereign when he stood before the advanced thinkers of his day at the Athenian Areopagus, and he did so without the slightest attempt to rationalize this doctrine. He knew that they would not be able to "reason their way up to God" (as their "altar to the unknown God" implied), so he simply declared God to be what he is: The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth and does not live in temples built by hands. And he is not served by human hands, as if he needed anything, because he himself gives all men life and breath and everything else. From one man he made every nation of men, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he determined the times set for them and the exact places where they should live. (Acts 17:24-26) We can imagine what the reactions would be if such a speech were to be given to a distinguished academic body today.9 Some would be offended, some would write Paul off as an idiot, and some would just stand there with their chins sagging, saying perhaps, "Did I hear you say that I am living here in this century because your God has arranged it... and that I live in a house that your God has chosen for me? And did you say that he has made everything-even this auditorium? Did you say