The Old Testament prophecies of the glories of the new covenant era teach us to look forward in faith to a stupendous pileup of grace at the culmination of human history. God's goodness to us has already been overwhelming, and much more is on the way.

But in order not to get tangled up in more confusions about the relationship between the Old Testament and New, we have to grasp three things about all this. First, we have to understand that the glory of the new covenant builds gradually and inexorably throughout the new covenant era. Second, we have to recognize that we do not know exactly when in the new covenant era we have been privileged to live. And third, we have to understand that this is promise, not law.

But before considering those things in turn, we should refresh ourselves (in both senses of that word) by looking at just a couple of ... Continue Reading

Posted by Douglas Wilson - 1/2/2009 5:25:39 PM | Link to this post | Print this post | 8 Responses

1. What was Calvin's first intention in writing the first edition of the Institutes?

2. What made it necessary to expand the work so that it also became a defense to the king on behalf of the Protestants?

3. If a mere accusation is all that is necessary to convict someone of wrong-doing, then what is necessarily threatened with extinction?

4. What was the central slander directed against the Protestants?

5. If all the slanders were in fact true, what does Calvin allow to be just?

1. What is Calvin's attitude toward France, his native land?

2. Since it was not the king's idea, the persecution of the Protestants was the result of tyranny from what kind of individual?

3. What, according to Calvin, constitutes true kingship?

4. What were Calvin's adversaries unable to bear the thought of?

5. The persecutors insisted on maintaining at least one of two things. What were they?

"Dad, what is a parable anyhow?" the young fellow asked.

His father, who had fortunately read something about this just recently, answered him on this wise.

"Well, kid, let me tell you."

"Well, dad, tell me. That's why I asked."

"The word parable comes from two Greek words, which together mean to 'cast or throw alongside.' That help any?"

The young fellow, who was old enough to know that his father was in one of his moods, said no, why would it? Any particular reason why it should?

So his father cleared his throat and continued. "When you want to shed light on one situation, you throw another situation alongside it to help the understanding along."

"Oh. Like a metaphor."

"Yes, like a metaphor with a little more meat on the bones. But the same principle. Metaphors are condensed parables. Parables are extended metaphors. This is that. Or this is like that. A metaphor is like a simile, making it a simile, if you say it the other way, making it a metaphor. You know." His father trailed off.

"Is this kind of lesson the reason we gave up homeschooling?"

"Yes. No. Not exactly. But you have to hear me out . . ."

"Okay. Here am I."

"Jesus told a particular kind of parable, but there are many examples of other ways of throwing something alongside something else to make a point."

"Like what? Would Aesop's fables be pagan parables?"

"Yes. There are no examples of that particular sort of parable in Scripture, but those fit the general description of what a parable is and does. You are putting one story alongside another in order to make a point."

"So allegories are parables too?"

"Yep. Ask your mother. She'll back me on this."

"Right, but she always backs you. I think she thinks the Bible says she has to. So Jesus did not give us the only way to tell a parable?"

"Not at all, not at all." Here the father took down a book from the shelf, and flipped it open casually. "Here, let me give you some examples. Balaam called a vision of his a parable (Num. 23:7). Job called his poetic complaint a parable (Job 27:1). The psalmist calls the lyrics of his songs a parable (Ps. 49:4; 78:2). A proverb is a parable (Prov. 26:7, 9; Hab. 2:6). An allegorical riddle is a parable (Ez. 17:2). And of course, stories of judgment leveled against Israel were parables (Matt. 13:3)."

"So the moralistic story that our babysitter used to tell us about what happened to those unfortunate children who played in the traffic once, but only once, was a parable?"

"Yes. A heavy-handed parable perhaps. Not great art, certainly. But a story from one realm that made a point in another fits the description of a parable. And as I remember, it was quite an effective parable. Really did the trick. You kids wouldn't go near the sidewalk for years."

"So this story that we're in, is it a parable too?"

"Well, yes, after a fashion."

"Does it have a point, a moral? More importantly, does it have a conclusion? I am getting a little bit hungry."

"Yes, but it is not a point that can be readily derived from the contents of the parable. That has to be imported from outside context, like the one about the prodigal son being in exile like Israel."

"So what is it?"

"Martin Luther once said that he would rather be governed by a wiseacre Turk than by a foolish Christian. Or something like that, I am pretty sure that's the point . . . you can ask your mother about it at dinner."

This new year, 2009, marks the 500th anniversary of John Calvin's birth. This milestone is being marked in many different ways, by different institutions and organizations the world over. For just one example, over the course of this next year, New St. Andrews is planning a series of lectures on all things Calvin, and other institutions are doing the same kind of thing.

Princeton Seminary has taken the interesting step of publishing a reading program to take someone through Calvin's Institutes in the course of the year, a reading guide which can be found here. Now some critics might think this seems a little bit too much like a "devotional" reading for all those theological fanboys who have asked Calvin into their hearts. So, point taken, don't be like that.

At the same time, Lord willing, this year I would like to publish a series of discussion questions or study questions that are in sync with and keep pace with the Princeton readings. And so, every day, I hope to post questions here to go with each section for that day. And the first questions are below.

John Calvin to the Reader (1559)

1. Did Calvin expect the first edition of the Institutes to be as successful as it was?

2. In what way did Calvin maintain that he had been maligned?

3. What was the basic purpose in ministerial preparation that Calvin had in mind for the Institutes?

4. In what way were his commentaries linked to the Institutes?

Subject Matter of the Present Work (1560)

1. Why did Calvin translate the Institutes into French?

2. What value did Calvin place on this work?

3. The reading of the Institutes was meant to be an introduction to the study of what?

4. What did Calvin want the reader of the Institutes to do in evaluating the teaching that was offered there?

In discussions of violence and the nature of God, one of the biggest issues before us is that of sorting out the relationship of the Old Testament to the New. Also, as it happens, sorting out that relationship is critical to a host of other issues as well -- from baptism to church government, from church government to sabbath keeping, from sabbath keeping to military service. Not only so, but as a general rule, the Church at large has not really done a superb job in understanding this relationship between the Mosaic administration and the reign of Christ. That means that many if not most of our controversies and perplexities go back to this one issue.

No Christian can say there is no difference between the covenants -- the whole point of being a Christian is to affirm that Christ's coming was the advent and promise of real glory, a coming that put everything that came before into the shade. That much should be a fixed given in all our discussions. But we still ... Continue Reading

Posted by Douglas Wilson - 1/1/2009 1:37:20 PM | Link to this post | Print this post | 0 Responses

Green Baggins continues our discussion, for which I am grateful. This installment, at least from me, will not be very long. Just a few comments. First, the FV statement on "Union with Christ and Imputation" does affirm the central Protestant view of imputation, as opposed to justification by infusion. The second part of the statement distances us as a group only from "particular doctrinal formulations" of that doctrine. Some of us, like me, are comfortable with those formulations, while others, as we point out in the section on intramural disagreements, don't want to affirm that doctrine "in its classic form." But we all actually do affirm the doctrine in one form or another. We don't affirm the infusionist view.

On "union," the word refers both to salvific union, only for those with true evangelical faith, and covenant union, for those who merely belong to the visible church.

And last, I thank Lane for answering my questions about signs and seals. I think we are pretty close there. I do believe that condemnation is sealed for those who do not believe, but I also want to say that the salvation sealed in the seal is only for the elect. The cup of blessing is a curse for those who don't believe, but the intent of the cup of blessing, obviously, is to be a blessing.

Nancy posted this picture of our wedding on her blog, along with an account of the proceedings. This was thirty-three years ago today, and I continue to be as grateful as a man is allowed to get. I got married at the tender age of 22, and have been married, therefore, for sixty percent of my life, which is the way it ought to be. I am diligently working on 75 percent, and when I get there all the current trends indicate that I will be even more pleased with the arrangement than ever.

One of the natural but intellectually lazy responses of theologians in the 20th century was to react to the advent of nuclear weapons with the idea that just war theory was now somehow outdated or tired. There were some exceptions, like John Courtney Murray and Paul Ramsey, but the general tendency was to pay lip service to just war theory as having been maybe okay in times past, but to opt for a functional pacifism in a nuclear age. When this was done, it was pretended that the inadequacy or deficiency was in just war theory itself, and not in ourselves. To paraphrase and reapply Chesterton, it was not tried and found wanting, it was found difficult and not tried.

Just war theory says, among other things, that the violence of war can be justified if it is declared by a competent authority, if there is a formal declaration, if the cause is to rectify or prevent an injustice, if there is a reasonable chance of success, if it is waged with strict attention to proportion, and it is undertaken as a last resort. What could be wrong with this approach, except not following it?

Just war theory is a set of doctrines, and as such it cannot really get tired. Thinkers, however, can and do get tired.

As I write, Israeli troops are massed on the border of Gaza, and they are about to go in to topple Hamas. They are doing this in response to a steady stream of rocket/mortar attacks from Gaza. Hamas is trying to provoke just such an invasion, in an attempt at a rope-a-dope strategy. Israel has an election coming up in February, and the hardliners are currently out of power, and the non-hardliners cannot afford to look like softies, if you know what I mean.

Now if the Israelis go in, there will be civilian casualties, and there will be multiple international cameras there for each one of them. In short, even though Hamas is outgunned militarily, their strategy is not military, even though their provocation is military.

I am writing as one who is of the conviction that there will be no peace to speak of in the Middle East until Jesus Christ is acknowledged as king there by all hands. The Muslims need Jesus and the Jews need Jesus. That's my Middle East peace plan.

That said, this scenario provides great material for all the armchair globo-politicians out there. Let us suppose, alternatively, that the man making the decision to shoot rockets into Israel is a Christian and a member of your church, and that the man making the decision whether to go to war in Israel is a Christian and a member of your church. Not at the same time, obviously, but alternatively, in the thought experiment. What do you do? Do you bring him up on charges for what he is doing? Do you excommunicate the man who decides to fire rockets at civilian areas? And do you excommunicate the man who decides that a military response to that is necessary?

And no fair appealing to any "root causes" funny business. Once we get into that, it all goes back to Adam anyhow. What constitutes a just military action now? And, if the teaching of the Church on just war over the centuries has any meaning at all, the answer is quite clear. You would discipline the leader of Hamas, and you would not discipline the leader of Israel.

Last night I read through a small booklet that was really quite good -- it was called The Easter Answer, and addressed the problem of harmonizing the various accounts of Christ's resurrection appearances. The author, Stephen Kingsley, is a fellow Idaho pastor who addressed our NSA Disputatio a few years back. In this booklet, he takes up a challenge issued by Dan Barker, an atheist I have debated several times. The challenge, which was fairly stated by Barker, has been fairly answered by Kingsley. I will be greatly interested in Barker's response.

Okay, I had to shovel my walk again this morning. Our Ponderosa pine are beautifully flocked again. We have had more snow than I ever remember having here. Snowfall records are shattered in Spokane. My truck hasn't been out of four-wheel drive in weeks. As a friend asked me at church yesterday, where is Al Gore when you need him?

I know, I know, snowfall in my zip code area doesn't prove anything. But record snowfall all over the world kinda does, ya think? I knew that the global warming hysteria would be shown up as a fraud within ten years, but God in His kindness did it in one, and that one year was 2008. All of it is admirably summarized here. HT: Frank Turk

What would you say if someone told you that you could determine whether or not you were allergic to peanut butter, or peanuts for that matter, by putting a dollop of peanut butter on the back of your right hand and extending it out parallel to the floor? And that if you could keep your arm straight then you were not allergic to the substances therein, and if you could not, then you were? Suppose someone told you that. What would you say?

Correct. You would say that such a person did not have a firm grasp on what constitutes what should be the clear boundary between superstition and real knowledge. Further, you might conclude that you must have met this person in a fortune-telling shack outside Port-au-Prince, Haiti, at an establishment called Madame Santoni's.

But that is not necessarily the case -- you may have met that person on the bus this morning, or he may work in the next cubicle at your high-tech engineering firm. He may exhibit a high level of intelligence, and be highly trained. But whether he is highly trained or not, he is certainly not highly educated. People who are highly educated don't believe that wet streets cause rain.

At the root here is a failure in the Church -- we have not provided a fully-orbed Christian worldview, and we have not insisted that the leaders in the Church be educated men. We generally insist on a high level of training for ministry, but you can train a chimp to get the banana he wants by pushing on a lever. Ministerial "training," bah. Ministerial "training," humbug. We need men in the Church who know how to think, and not men who could in principle be snookered by the kind of spectral evidence once on display in Salem. "She must be a witch. I go oww every time she looks at me! See? Owwwww!"

As Chesterton once put it, if you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything. But in order to stand for that something, you have to be educated in it. If you are merely trained to stand for something, then you have been indoctrinated, not educated, and you are not "standing" for anything really, except in the way.

I was recently interviewed on national radio by some good conservative people, and in the course of the interview there was a feast of reason and flow of soul. That was all good, but the thing that struck me upside the head was some of the fruitcake commercials in between the segments. You want to know why liberals are running the country? Because a bunch of ostensible conservatives think that floride (or fill this in with your icky substance of choice) causes whatever it is they want it to cause, rules of evidence be damned.

And no, if you put the dollop of peanut butter on the left hand, you haven't really addressed the problem.

Once there was a boy who had a very unfortunate experience. He lived in a fairy tale, and this is why he was not very surprised when a wizard stopped him on the way home, and asked where he was going. The boy said nothing, because he had learned a long time ago that the best way to stay out of trouble with adults was to say nothing. He was right most of the time, but not this time.

"Cat got your tongue, eh?" the wizard said. "Very well, then. When you get home, I will have your tongue, and you will answer every question truthfully . . . until you come back here, and answer mine."

The boy’s eyes got very wide, and he scurried home right away. When he got there—he was late—his father yelled at him. "Late again! Why are you always late?"

"Because you are always late," the boy said simply. "I learned it from you."

This of course astonished everyone in the room, and his mother even dropped a plate.

"And why have you never said anything about it before?" his father said, angry and stung.

"Because I would get into big trouble. Like I think I did just now."

His mother looked at him knowingly. "You can be a little later, dear. Better run back to the wizard and tell him what he wants."

It is no accident that our service of worship concludes, or culminates, in the Supper. In response to the summons of the Lord, we have called on His name. We have confessed our sins, knowing that we cannot enter into the holy place of worship apart from His cleansing and forgiveness. We have consecrated ourselves to Him entirely, just as a sacrificial animal ascended to heaven in the column of smoke from the altar. This is how we have heard the sermon, this is how we have offered our psalms and hymns.

This part of the service, every Lord’s Day, is the place where God assures us that, for the sake of Jesus Christ and His perfections, our offerings and our worship has been accepted. This is the peace offering, this is the place where the Lord invites us to sit down with Him and share a meal. We do so gladly . . . this meal means, as we receive it in true evangelical faith, that we have been justified. So come then, eat and drink.

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