Tag Archive - Kingdom of God

Kingdom of Abundance

October 2, 2011 in Bible Thoughts with 9 Comments

The feeding narratives were supposed to tell the disciples everything they needed to know about Jesus’ identity–and their participation with him in the coming of the kingdom.

At least, that seems to be what Mark wants us to think.

Jesus feeds 5,000, and then when the disciples freak out at his coming to them on the water, this is ascribed to their “not understanding about the loaves, but their heart was hardened.”

Jesus feeds 4,000, and then in a boat with insufficient food, Jesus warns about the yeast of the Pharisees and of Herod. They think he’s talking about bread.

He rebukes them: don’t you remember how much food you gathered? Are your eyes blind, your ears deaf, your hearts hard? Beware of the leaven of the bad guys!

What have we seen in these feeding narratives?

We have seen abundance come from nothing. We have seen banquets set in the wilderness.

More than this, we have seen that the setting of the banquets was not just the work of Jesus–it was the work of Jesus who gave to his disciples who, in turn, gave to the crowds.

The disciples are active agents in the coming of the kingdom of abundance. They take hold of the world’s scarcity and distribute it far beyond its capacity.

The abundance of Herod is different.

In his banquet hall, filled with food, he is shown to be weak and impressionable. Herod’s feast is, finally, a feast of death–John’s head served on a platter.

Where is death? In the wilderness, without adequate food–but a good shepherd? Or in the halls of apparent abundance–with a failure of a would-be king?

Herod has not enacted death alone. The Pharisees have also plotted with the Herodians to kill Jesus.

There is a kingdom economy of the Herod and the Pharisees–where the apparent abundance of power and possession leads to death.

And there is an alternate kingdom economy of Jesus–where apparent nothingness and death and deprivation leads to fulness.

Embracing the kingdom of abundance, however, means seeing abundance, by faith, in the face of nothing.

How is the kingdom of abundance, power, and glory seen? It is like the smallest mustard seed.

Sow it in faith and see what happens.

The One Gospel?

September 6, 2011 in Bible Thoughts with 14 Comments

I’ve recently been reading Scot McKnight’s The King Jesus Gospel, a book that has me digging around in some familiar territory of where the Rule of Faith fits into the Christian narrative, how well it represents the biblical story, etc.

In dealing with “gospel,” McKnight starts with 1 Cor 15: “Jesus died for our sins according to the scriptures, was buried, was raised on the third day according to the scriptures; then he appeared…”

Paul claims that this is the one gospel that everyone proclaims.

I very much like this as a summary of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

But at the risk of embracing a “hermeneutic of suspicion,” I also want to suggest that every time someone claims, “This is what everyone has always said,” they are engaging in a polemical framing of their own claims that probably deserves at least a little bit of nuance, and perhaps considerable qualification.

This is not to deny that 1 Cor 15 is a great summary of the gospel, but it is to suggest that there is no single telling of the gospel that is always proclaimed every time.

We could attack this from a couple of different angles.

First, within Paul himself there is some variation. In Gal 3 Paul writes, “Scripture, foreseeing that God would justify the gentiles by faith, preached the gospel beforehand to Abraham saying, ‘All the nations will be blessed in you.’”

The blessing of Abraham for the gentiles is the gospel. The nations being wrapped up in the faith of Abraham and promise of God is the gospel. Interestingly, there is almost no resurrection in Galatians.

Then, we might go to Acts. Acts does not offer us a theology of Jesus “dying for our sins” in its sermons. In fact, Acts contains a sermon in which the crucifixion isn’t mentioned at all (Acts 17). These sermons see the crucifixion bringing such guilt upon Israel as to demonstrate that Israel is as much in need of forgiveness as the nations.

Or, we might go to Jesus. And here’s where I wish McKnight had gone a different direction. To take Mark as an example, Jesus goes out proclaiming the gospel: “Repent, for the reign of God has drawn near!” The advent of the kingdom of God is itself the good news.

Not merely the death of Jesus (Mark 8-16) but the life as well (Mark 1-8) is good news. When Jesus casts out demons–this is enacting the gospel. When Jesus feeds the 5,000–this is enacting the gospel.

There are ways to connect this life of Jesus in the Gospels with the continuing life of the resurrected Jesus in Paul’s letters, but even at the basic level of “gospel,” we have a broad, rich picture in the NT.

So what do we have to say if we are to claim that we proclaim the good news? And should we be suspicious whenever someone tells us that this is what people have always confessed as Christians?

Image of the King

June 6, 2011 in Bible Thoughts with 11 Comments

What does setting up an image have to do with rule?

It’s sometimes argued that ancient kings would set up images of themselves in the lands they ruled as a reminder to all the people of who the king was–especially if he was not physically present.

I’m not sure that this is historically accurate; however, it is suggestive in a couple of helpful ways as we come to the creation of humanity in God’s image in Genesis 1.

First, even if the kings of the Ancient Near East did not so place their images around their empires, we know that later kings did. I am reminded of statues of Augustus, or inscriptions such as the one found at Priene that celebrates Augustus’ birthday as the beginining of the good news that has come to the world through him. Part propaganda, part not-so-subtle reminder, the images of the “god” Augustus remind the people to whom they owe their life and loyalty.

Second, as I heard this idea discussed in a sermon last night, my mind’s eye couldn’t help flashing to scenes such as these:

Saddam Husseiin's Birthday Statue

War Propaganda Poster

The Decorated Hero

The images of the ruler remind the people, in not so subtle ways, who is in charge, who is their protector, whom they serve.

All of this made me think, third, that such “presence of the ruler through an image” captures well the idea of humans as made in God’s image, and thereby given rule over the earth.

We are supposed to be the visible reminders to the world that it is God who is sovereign over all. We are to be acting as faithful agents of the rule of a loving God who has provided for all creatures in all of creation.

What do we see when we see a fellow human being? An agent of God, sent out into the world to make God’s reign known.

Shoes on Other Feet

June 1, 2011 in Bible Thoughts with 2 Comments

I confess. (I really need to stop doing that here–note to self, add “blogsphere confessionals” to “List of things to talk to therapist about.” Where was I? Oh yes…)

I confess, I cheer for winners. If I’m watching a game and don’t have a huge stake in one of the teams, I find myself drawn inexorably toward the one that seems to be destined to win at any given moment. When I’m watching a movie with some modicum of mystery about a perpetrator of a crime, I withhold judgment so that I can pretend I hated the right person all along.

When I read the NT, I cheer for Jesus. I boo for the Pharisees. I cheer for Paul. I boo for the Judaizers.

In these NT cases, I think that there’s something about the literature itself that expects such a reaction. By siding with Jesus or Paul I place myself into the mindset of the ideal reader of the text–one for whom Jesus and Paul are the good guys.

But there’s a down side as well; namely, that by siding with the good guys we miss how the story might confront us with a word of judgment.

cbenjasuwan / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

We might miss, in fact, that we are those to whom the hero’s words might be spoken afresh.

In fact, it might be that the best place at which to enter the story is not as the doppelganger of the hero, but as the opposition force.

When we read the NT, we too often forget that we who sit in the established Christianity of the 20th century are more like the Jews than anyone else on the page.

We are sitting within the people who have had a firm confidence for thousands of years that we are uniquely living within the great revelation of God that determines all other things.

We are sitting as insiders with a clear sense of who is in and who is out.

We have have the authoritative voice of scripture to back our religious mores and scruples.

In what ways might the shoe be on the other foot? Might it be the case that now, quite often, the church sits not on the side of the radical in-breaking of the Kingdom of God under the reign of King Jesus, but that we sit on the side of the status quo that sets itself against this prophetic advent?

Might the “weak” now be those whose identities are so tied to Christian mores or worship styles or theological traditions that, despite being good smokers and drinkers, we are in fact the “weaker brothers” now? Might we be the ones who cannot part with what we know and still believe we’re serving Jesus?

Might we be the ones who oppose the Jesus-centered mission and identity of the people of God, demanding that any true Messiah serve the standards of the “law” as we’ve understood it? Do we grumble when people spend too much time, become too close friends, with those outside the community?

Yes, Jesus is the Messiah. So yes, there is something “right” about our identification of him and with him as we read. But are there ways that we need to recognize that this very confession unmakes the lives we have constructed in, as we understood it, service of him?

People of the Story of the Cross

May 3, 2011 in Bible Thoughts with 8 Comments

I teach a class at Fuller called, “The Cross in the New Testament.” We talk a lot about atonement. But as we talk about atonement, a funny thing happens: we start to realize that the questions we tend to ask about “how the cross works to save us” are not the questions that the NT spends a lot of time answering.

And yet, this does not minimize the centrality of the cross in the NT. Instead, it tells us that our cross is much too small. Or, we’ve gotten our story wrong. Or, to put it another way, we’ve forgotten that we’re a story people and have started acting instead like we are a theology people.

Flannery O’Connor (blessed be her name) gives us a peek into the mind of the master storyteller:

A story is a way to say something that can’t be said any other way, and it takes every word in the story to say what the meaning is.

When we approach the story of Jesus, the story of the cross, we too often think that the story is there for the purpose of having theological data extracted from it–as though the purpose of the story is to point beyond itself to the abstract system enthroned with God in the heavenly places, unmarred by human contact. But that’s not how stories work.

We discover in the story that the very act of Jesus’ crucifixion is an expression of life lived in opposition to the coming reign of God. Jesus creates enemies by exerting a personal authority for overturning social mores, encroaching on the prerogatives of God, and refusing to raise up the Law as the highest measure of humanity’s good.

The story of the Kingdom is in conflict with the story of the world–even as that world is inhabited by people upon whom God has set God’s name.

To be a Jesus follower is to participate in a narrative that denies the narrative of the world: denies the narrative of scarcity in favor of a narrative of abundance; denies the narrative of socially defined holiness in favor of a narrative of Christ-defined righteousness.

It is a narrative that insists that anyone who is not against us is, in fact for us (we don’t have the right to circumscribe the people to those who are just like us).

And at the end, it is the Kingdom that insists that the power of God is the power to give life to the dead.

And here is where the Kingdom of the world begins to crumble under the weight of God’s greater power.

For the Babylons, Greeces, and Romes of the world, the ultimate power of coercion is the power of death. Oppose Rome and meet its sword. Rebel against Rome and meet its legions. Fail to hail Caesar and prepare to greet his gladiators. Exalt yourself as king and prepare to meet its cross.

And here is where Jesus comes in.

The life of Jesus is a testimony to a different kind of people and a different kind of power. Not the power of the life-taking king, but the power of self-giving love. More than this–not the power of the Romans in taking life on the cross, but the power of the One True God in giving life to the truly dead.

God’s reversal of the imperial death sentence was not merely the reversal of the verdict of the earth that Jesus was guilty. It was that. It was Jesus’ justification.

But it was also the warning that the ultimate power of the earth is weakness before God. It was also the warning that the ultimate wisdom of the earth is foolishness before God. Readily conquered. Easily befuddled.

That Jesus comes as a self-giving king, an embracing king, a king who refuses to take up the sword–this is the story of the Kingdom of God. This is the economy of the Kingdom. This is the world we are called to realize, to live, to story, in our life together.

This is why Jesus says, “Take up your cross and follow me.”

Because we are the cross people. And enacting the story of God is what the cross of Christ calls and enables us to do.

Economy of Death

May 2, 2011 in Bible Thoughts, Church, Culture with 44 Comments

It seems that the purpose of the blogsphere today is for public processing of Osama Bin Laden’s death.

The Twitter feed has alerted me to numerous posts that are saying, in essence, what I’ll say here as well: the economy of the Kingdom of God should give us pause about jumping into unmitigated celebration of the death of our country’s enemy.

A couple of thoughts on this.

First, if we speak of Bin Laden as “our” enemy, it’s important to remember that the “our” of whom we are speaking is not the church, not Christians, not the people of God, but the United States of America. Being an American is one part of my identity, it is my people, so yes, he was “our” enemy. But this is not the same as saying that he is the church’s enemy, an agent of Satan as one standing against the agents of light.

Hear me! This is not to say that he is not an agent of evil, but a plea for us to recognized that good guys and bad guys in the wars of the world are not drawn in absolute colors of black and white, but rather in various shades of gray.

The second place from which, I believe, Christian exuberance should be mitigated is in the simple biblical warning not to celebrate the downfall of our enemy. Proverbs 24 is a curious chapter. On the one hand there is the typical Proverbial expectation that God is at work in the world to reward the pious and punish the wicked. But despite this connection between the hand of God and the downfalls of the bad guys we might see here on earth, the chapter warns, “Do not rejoice when your enemies fall, and do not let your heart be glad when they stumble” (Prov 24:17).

And this brings us to the final point of it all.

At moments like this, where we might recognize some net good to the world through the death of this agent of death, we also need to remember that this economy of death, which is the economy of the world, is not the economy of the Kingdom of God.

The nations live by this economy of the world, and to a certain extent are compelled to. But we, the United States, have for the past 10 years exacerbated the economy of death, fed death, through our response to the death we endured on September 11, 2001. We used those deaths as legitimation for bringing far more death to Iraq and Afghanistan than we endured on our own dreadful day.

Death begets death. It was the case with the deaths that stain Osama bin Laden’s hands, and it is the case with the deaths that stain our own. And no doubt it will be the case in the aftermath of this, our country’s latest victory.

Death begets death, until…

… until a people are formed who truly rejoice when persecuted.

… until a people are created who turn the other cheek when struck.

… until a people bless those who persecute them–bless and do not curse.

… until death is confronted with life.

… until death is conquered by resurrection.

… until the Kingdom of God comes, and God’s will truly is done on earth.

The Task of Our Generation

March 24, 2011 in Bible Thoughts with 18 Comments

Sitting in my living room, at the ripe old age of 35, typing on a laptop while the winds howl and the rain dances upon the metal cap of our fireplace–somehow all of this compels me to the full assurance that I know what the theological task is for this generation. (Ok, the fact that I’m and INTJ might have something to do with my confidence, but bear with me.)

In the post-conservative Christian circles in which I run, people have often experienced a shift. From an entry into Christianity that is all about Jesus dying for my sins, people later discover a Kingdom of God that demands active engagement with the world.

Within the world of Pauline studies a parallel distinction is sometimes highlighted. On the one hand, there is Jesus dying “for me,” with its concomitant substitutionary language of justification and the like. On the other hand, there is my “dying with Christ,” with its concomitant participatory language of co-crucifixion, co-glorification and the like.

And over the past century in Western Christianity, I would say that different parts of the church have held on to different halves of this story. The conservative evangelical types have grabbed hold of the atonement as the gospel, while the liberal mainline types have grabbed onto the world-changing life of Jesus as the gospel.

I see the ask of our generation to overcome this false dichotomy by (1) insisting that it’s not a dichotomy after all; and (2) articulating atonement in such a way that action and transformation are inherent to the saving story of Jesus.

There are many ways to put the question we must answer.

At the Institute for Biblical Research this year, Tom Wright put the question, “What does the Kingdom of God have to do with the cross?”

Or, as I put it in my Mark class, “What does Mark 1-8 [the wonder-working, healing, cleansing, parables, feeding, stilling] have to do with Mark 8-16 [the road to the cross, the disruption of the Temple, the prediction of coming suffering, the Supper, Garden, arrest, trial, and death]?”

It seems to me that we are going to have to step back and reconsider how we tell the story. We are going to have to find fresh ways to articulate what the death of Jesus is all about, so that it wraps up a life of transforming power.

We are going to have to find fresh ways to tell the story of Jesus’ inauguration of the Kingdom of God, so that we are not left, like Peter at the transition point in Jesus’ ministry, wondering why on earth death of the Messiah is the logical culmination.

In fact, I might suggest that until we can so tell the story of Jesus’ life that the death is not only the inevitable (from an earthly point of view) but necessary (from the divine accomplishment point of view) outcome, that we have not yet comprehended the Kingdom of God.

And, until we can so tell the story of Jesus’ death such that his life is not only an anticipation (in a preparatory sort of way–you know, like keeping Jesus free from sin and all that) but inseparable from his atoning death, that we have not yet comprehended what it is to say that Jesus died for our sins.

I don’t think we’ve done it yet.

But I believe we can.

The Blessed Dog of Mark 7

February 3, 2011 in Bible Thoughts with 3 Comments

I want to dig into Mark’s story of the Syrophoenician woman just a bit more today. It is one of the more troubling episodes in Mark.

When this woman comes begging Jesus to heal her demon-possessed daughter Jesus in essence tells her she is a dog, unworthy of the gift: “It is not right to take the children’s bread and cast it to the dogs.”

We have been told already that this woman is a Gentile, and the interaction with Jesus here bases his rebuff on that standing: she is not a child, a Jew; she is a Gentile dog.

There are a couple of curiosities here, however, that we need to get on the table.

First, Jesus in ch. 5 of Mark had already gone into Gentile territory to heal a demon-possessed Gentile. Such precedent makes this refusal all the more surprising.

In addition, the previous story had gone to great lengths to deconstruct Jewish notions of purity, particularly as associated with food. Elsewhere in the NT, such a distancing of the early church from food laws is associated with inclusion of Gentiles (Acts 10-11; Galatians 2).

Finally, and most importantly, when Jesus distributed bread to the children, in ch. 6, there were twelve baskets full of leftovers. The readers know, Jesus knows, the disciples should know, that even after feeding the children so that they are satisfied, there are not only crumbs on the table but more abundance than was started with.

The kingdom of God, we know, is like a seed sown that produces a crop 30, 60, or 100 fold. Or, like a loaf of bread that can feed 1,000 men with leftovers in abundance.

So is there any such thing, in the economy of the Kingdom of God, as taking from the little allotted to the children and depriving them by giving it to the dogs?

No. We the readers know that the Kingdom of God admits no such lack.

And this woman knows, too.

I note with interest that this is the only person in the Gospel who gets the best of Jesus in verbal sparring. And she does so by having eyes to see the sufficiency of the economy of the Kingdom.

This, yet another unnamed woman, not only gets the best of Jesus but also stands in marked contrast to the disciples who, for all their participation with Jesus in the ministry of the Kingdom, never in the story have eyes to see that God’s is an economy of abundance.

When they see 5,000, they initiate with Jesus: please send these people away. When Jesus sees the 4,000 he invites them to express their understanding: I don’t want to send these people away.

But no, they never understand about the loaves, but their hearts are hardened (ch. 6); having eyes they don’t see, ears they don’t hear and they do not yet understand (ch. 8).

But the Syrophoencian–the female Gentile dog–has eyes to see. And so not only in the exorcism itself but in her act of faith as well the economy of the world is turned on its head.

The woman from farthest away geographically and socially can see what those who participate intimately with the ministry cannot: the kingdom of God is like a mustard seed. It might look small when sown, but its plant is large enough for all the birds of the air (even Gentile birds) to find rest in its branches.

Jesus

December 13, 2010 in Bible Thoughts, Church with 9 Comments

JSN, regular participant in the Storied Theology, has drawn my attention to The Theology Project of Trinity Lutheran Church. In particular, this church has recently formulated its understanding of who Jesus was and is and what this means for a community of believers.

What do you think about its Jesus statement?

I want to say a couple of things: First, please note that the church does not engage in this exercise instead of confessing the creeds, but in addition to making those historic confessions.

And, I think that taking this sort of ownership, within the community, to return to scripture and be challenged afresh, is good. It is good to confess in concert with the church, and it is good to set out on the journey of discovery as a community and come to own the theology with greater depth.

In terms of the content, I really like its lengthy column depicting salvation. Two things about it strike me as exactly right: (1) it is a long, all-encompassing type of statement that challenges us to recognize the significance of Jesus in every aspect of our lives and the world–and to see how “salvation” is depicted throughout the Gospel stories; and (2) the list pairs “saved from” with “saved for” so that both the old life we are called to leave behind, the symptoms of our brokenness and sin, and the new life we are called to put on are held in tandem.

If I have one quibble, it is with the depiction of the Kingdom of God. I don’t think that kingdom of God is merely a new way of living in the world. I think there is a cosmic reality of God’s reign, being brought to bear by Jesus, that Jesus is putting on display, demonstrating, and inaugurating. There is a power in the reign of God that comes with that cosmic reality, and I’m not sure the statement quite does justice to that reality.

Those were my initial thoughts–mostly quite positive. What do you think of the Jesus statement?

What Sort of Fruit Are You Looking For?

December 11, 2010 in Bible Thoughts with 21 Comments

Mark 4. Kingdom Parables. “The reign of God is like… a sower who went out to sow….”

In his sowing, the seed falls upon various soils. Most of it, profligately sown, takes no root. But some falls on good soil and produces a harvest 30, 60, or 100 fold.

So Jesus, what is all this parable talking you’re doing? ask the disciples. Well, says Jesus, this parable is the parable story, the way you understand all parables is to get hold of this one.

You see, Jesus continues, I speak in parables so that the outsiders will see without perceiving, hear without listening, so that they might not turn and be forgiven!

As Jesus goes on to explain the parable, he speaks of the seed as the sown word. Those who hear can have the word snatched from them before it takes root, they can have the word take root and be choked or scorched, or they can bear fruit 30, 60, or even 100 fold.

So what’s that fruit? Is it a life of good works? Is it other people being drawn into the kingdom?

Wait! Don’t answer yet.

It seems that Mark wants us to hold this episode in mind later. When we see the same sort of absurd multiplication–in the feeding stories.

Give them something to eat! Jesus says. Um… Jesus? 5,000 people? Really?

Later, after its all said and done, they are terrified to meet Jesus on the water because they didn’t understand about the loaves, but their heart was hardened.

Just to make sure they’ve learned that there is no lack in the economy of the kingdom, Jesus sends them on a parallel mission in Gentile country: ok, guys, dish up lunch. Um… Jesus? 4,000 people? Really?

As if to finally bring home their failure to grasp the economy of the kingdom, another boat ride also doesn’t go so well: Gosh, we forgot to bring bread with us, what are we going to do?

Jesus seems to think they’re missing something. They’re the insiders, right? The mystery of the kingdom is given to them, right? They’ve participated in two miraculous feedings, right?

“When you fed 5,000 with 5 loaves, how’d that work out for you? When you fed 4,000 with a bit more, how’d that turn out? Having eyes do you not see? Having ears do you not hear?”

The purpose of parables–to blind and deafen, has inexplicably worked itself on the disciples as they participated in the lived parables of feeding the 5,000 and 4,000. The insiders have become outsiders, misunderstanding even as they themselves participated in the advent of the reign of God.

They have beheld the coming kingdom of God: one seed may not have literally broken out to yield a 100-fold harvest–but one loaf has fed 1,000 people. The kingdom of God has come near.

So what sort of fruit are we looking for? What sort of kingdom do we serve? A kingdom in which there is no economy of lack: not a stingy kingdom with food only for those who were insiders (Jews) to the exclusion of outsiders (Gentiles). Not a kingdom of lack where we need to wring our hands over forgotten meals.

In this economy, there is plenty of bread even for the dogs to fill themselves on the crumbs from the children’s table–there’s bread all over the place.

I too often read Mark 4 as referring to “Spiritual” things, and I think there’s something to that. But if our gospel is worth anything, then the reality of life in this world must reflect and embody that kingdom fullness as well.

To a world whose entire economy is based on the dual equations of a zero-sum-game coupled with lack and scarcity, we proclaim that the reign of God comes to make his blessings known far as the curse is found.

And, we are made aware, by the disciples, of the difficulty of believing that the advent of Jesus really makes this difference. They, the sight-given insiders, are blind. They, the insight-given insiders, are deaf. They cannot see the abundance that comes–not only despite lack, but from lack itself.

A single seed becomes a plentiful harvest.

A single loaf becomes a banquet.

A single death becomes cosmic redemption.

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