Denominations: When churches network.

DENOMINATION di.nɑm.ə'neɪ.ʃən noun. Organized network of affiliated churches.

2. Autonomous branch of a religion.

[Denominational də.nɑm.ə'neɪ.ʃən.əl adjective.]

When Jesus began his church, it had a really basic organization: The Twelve, the apostles whom he hand-picked to lead his followers… and his followers.

Over time this evolved. As it kinda had to, ’cause the church spread. The Twelve didn’t stay in Jerusalem: Simon Peter went to Rome, Andrew to Greece, John to Ephesus, Jude and Simon to Syria, Bartholemew to Armenia, Thomas to India, and so forth. The followers spread out to different cities in the Roman Empire, and to the barbarians outside the Empire. They founded new church groups.

All sorts of questions began to crop up about how connected these groups were with one another. Of course since power is always a stumbling-block for us humans, there was also concern about what authority various apostles and bishops in other groups had over the new congregations and their leadership.

The short version: The church remained one universal group for roughly a thousand years. I say “roughly” because it got mighty rough there near the end. Too many power struggles between bishops. Too many cultural and theological differences between Greek- and Latin- and Coptic- and barbarian-speaking churches. Too many hurt feelings. It all culminated in the Great Schism in 1054: The bishops of Rome and Constantinople declared each another heretic. From that point on there were two formal networks: The Orthodox Churches in eastern Europe, western Asia, and northern Africa, all of whom recognized one another as Christian; and the Roman Catholic Church in western Europe and the Americas, which only recognized itself as Christian.

The Orthodox and Catholics insist on calling themselves churches, not denominations. ’Cause their original attitude was they’re the real church, and any other “chuches” were heretic. (That’s largely still their attitude, though they’re a lot nicer nowadays towards the rest of us: They still figure they’re the real church, but the others are wayward. Not necessarily heretic. Though certainly some denominations are very much heretic.)

They’re not alone in shunning the word “denomination.” Two churches in my city insist on calling themselves “nondenominational”—yet both are heavily plugged into the “nondenominational” Bethel Church in Redding, Calif. Bethel hasn’t yet created a formal denomination, so the many churches affiliated with it, and no other group, figure they’re nondenominational. But they’re far from independent of all other churches. (Which is good. Go-it-alone churches are like go-it-alone Christians: They tend to get all weird and cultlike and heretic.)

Sometimes churches prefer another word, like fellowship or alliance or assembly or network. My denomination, the Assemblies of God, is kinda partial to “movement.” And—as is the case with episcopal groups like the Orthodox and Catholics—some consider themselves the one same single church with many, many campuses, no matter how big they are.

But despite what they call themselves, whenever we got a network of churches—loose or tight, doesn’t matter—I’m gonna refer to them as denominations. Sometimes “denom” for short. (Not to be confused with “demon.” I’ll leave that for the anti-denominational folks.)

The baptism of Jesus. And adoption. And anointing.

Mark 1.9-11, Matthew 3.13-17, Luke 3.21-22.

Baptism, i.e. ritual washing, was usually for Jews who were ritually unclean: They’d touched an animal they weren’t allowed to eat, anything they found dead, an open wound; they’d expelled bodily fluids of one sort or another; in general they needed to wash themselves and their clothes before they went to temple. Pharisees co-opted the ritual and said you gotta do this before going to synagogue as well.

And John the baptist co-opted the ritual too, and used it on sinners who wanted to repent and get morally clean. Same practice, new idea.

Mark 1.9 KWL

It happens in these days Jesus comes from Nazareth of the Galilee,

and is baptized by John in the Jordan.

Matthew 3.13-15 KWL

13Then Jesus comes from the Galilee to the Jordan,

to John, to be baptized by him.

14John is preventing him, saying,

“I need to be baptized by you¹!

And you¹ come to me?”

15In reply Jesus told him, “Just permit it.

It’s appropriate for us to fulfill everything that’s right.”

So John permitted him.

As you see, when Jesus came south from the Galilee, went to the Jordan, and wanted baptism, John rightly objected. I’ll write it again: Rightly objected. John’s baptism was for sinners. Was Jesus a sinner? Nope. Did Jesus need to repent? Nope; never sinned, so nothing to repent of. He 4.15 So what’d he think he was doing? If a man goes through a baptism of repentance, yet he isn’t repentant at all and feels there’s nothing for him to repent of… wouldn’t we call this hypocrisy?

Well we would, but we’d never call Jesus a hypocrite. So we usually look the other way at this, and give Jesus a free pass.

Yet at the same time, continue to teach that Jesus didn’t need repentance, and underwent baptism so he could be a good example for Christians who actually need to repent. In other words, we teach he was totally behaving like something he’s not—that he was acting like a hypocrite.

Should we be teaching such a thing in the first place? If Jesus is no hypocrite, should we be teaching anything at all which could, on closer inspection, easily make Jesus out to be a hypocrite?

I would say no; and also Jesus has a legitimate, non-hypocritical reason for wanting baptism. Let’s get to that.

Love and romance.

I’m posting this article on St. Valentine’s Day, a feast day named for several ancient Christian martyrs named Valentine: Bishop Valentinus of Terni, Presbyter Valentinus of Rome, Valentinus of Raetia, Valentinus of Genoa, Valentinus the hermit, and Valentinus of North Africa. All their stories and myths got frapped together… and nobody cares about ’em anyway, ’cause Valentine’s Day is a commercial holiday. It’s meant to get people to buy stuff, or make various other expensive materialistic declarations of love, for the person they’re currently boning.

By “love” I mean one of the eight definitions of love. On Valentine’s Day, among Christians who know charity is the sort of love God is, the sort of love the scriptures point to… there might be some expressions of that: They love their partners with godly love. They want the best for their loved ones, even if that means sacrificing themselves. They expect nothing in return; it’s not a love which expects, even demands, reciprocity. They really do love like God does. Or strive to.

But Valentine’s Day isn’t at all about that sort of love. It’s about the romantic sort. It’s what the ancient Greeks meant by ἔρος/éros, the desire one has for the objects of their affection or infatuation, the desire lovers have for one another. (Éros is where we get our English word erotic.)

C.S. Lewis spent a quarter of his 1960 book The Four Loves on éros, and when Christians speak on love, a lot of times we likewise spend a chunk of time discussing éros. Although what we tend to do, incorrectly, is bash it.

1. First we define it as romantic love, erotic love, or lust.
2. Then we point out éros isn’t in the bible. (’Cause it’s not. Neither in the New Testament, nor the Septuagint.) It’s just a different Greek word for a concept we translate as “love”—which is all Lewis was writing about anyway. He was a classics scholar, after all; not a bible scholar.
3. Then spend the rest of our sermon railing against éros for not being godly love, the ἀγάπη/agápi Paul defined in 1 Corinthians 13.

Expect all that to be part of nearly every Valentine’s Day sermon. Oh wait; let me throw in an extra bonus point:

4. Some preachers will insist éros and romance aren’t any sort of “love.” Therefore we should only use the word “love” to mean agápi, to mean having patience and kindness and self-control and gentleness and all that other stuff Paul wrote. Romance isn’t love. Lust certainly isn’t love. So when people incorrectly use the word “love” to describe such things, correct ’em. “That’s romance. That’s lust. Not love. Real love is agápi.”

Sound about right?

But if you actually read The Four Loves you’ll notice Lewis didn’t define éros as romance or lust.

John the baptist’s message for everyone else.

Mark 1.7-8, Matthew 3.11-12, Luke 3.10-20, John 1.26-28.

Previously I dealt with what John the baptist had to say to religious folks—people who already followed God, or at least were active in temple and synagogue. John didn’t come to preach to them; they already had prophets, and shouldn’t need to come to John and repent. He came to reach the people who had no relationship with God, who needed to get ready for their coming Messiah.

But you might notice Luke describes John’s message to the religious folks as being directed towards everyone. Religious and irreligious alike.

Luke 3.7-14 KWL

7John is saying this

to the crowds coming to be baptized by him:

“You² viper-spawn!

Who warned you² to escape the wrath of God?

8Fine then: Produce worthy fruits,

from repentant people.

Don’t start to tell yourselves²,

‘We have a father in Abraham’:

I tell you² God can raise up children for Abraham

from these rocks.

9The axe already lays at the root of the tree.

So every tree not producing good fruit

is cut down and thrown into fire.”

10The crowds are questioning John,

saying, “So what can we do?”

11 In reply John tells them,

“You² who have two tunics:

Share with those who don’t.

You² who have food:

Do likewise.”

12Taxmen come to be baptized

and tell John, “Teacher, what can we do?”

13John tells them,

“Do nothing more than you were ordered.”

14 Soldiers are questioning John,

saying, “And we, what can we do?”

John tells them, “You² could stop shaking people down,

or stop accusing them falsely.

Be content with your paychecks.”

I explained the whole worthy fruits, making Abraham’s children from rocks, and axe at the foot of the tree stuff in the previous article. Here Luke includes John’s corrections to the people who came to him for baptism.

In general the problem is stinginess. The crowds needed to share their food and clothing with the needy. Yes, the Law had a sort of welfare system built in so farmers would leave gleanings for the needy, Lv 19.9-10 and so every third-year’s tithes would go to the needy. Dt 14.28 But then, same as now, people don’t bother to do any more than their obligations, and share food and clothing only with people we consider worthy—not so much needy. Loving our neighbor Lv 19.18 gets limited to thinking pleasant thoughts about them, not doing for them. It’s an attitude which always needs breaking.

The taxmen (KJV “publicans,” although Julius Cæsar abolished the publican rank in 30BC; NLT “corrupt tax collectors”) were customs agents. They sat in booths at ports and city gates, and charged everyone a fee to get in. Merchants especially: Usually 2 to 5 percent of whatever they were selling. (Which added up, especially when you transported goods from city to city.) Taxmen were usually already-wealthy men who bought their commissions from the city officials (usually Roman), because it was such a lucrative job. One of the perqs was the ability to set the rates above what the city required, and pocket the difference. Or cheat the merchants with faulty scales, and again pocket the difference. It’s why they were so hated. And why they knew they needed to repent. “Don’t steal” is one of the 10 commandments, y’know.

Lastly soldiers. Who were likely—and kinda surprisingly—Roman soldiers. This is the first time we see gentiles really getting involved in the gospel, but Luke wanted to make it clear in his gospels (both Luke and Acts) that God’s kingdom is likewise for gentiles. And interestingly, John initially responded to them with what they could do, not commands: They could be more fair and just in their duties, instead of hassling the locals and trying to rob them. As gentiles, they weren’t under the Law, so John couldn’t command them to follow it in quite the same way. But like the taxmen, they also knew they needed to repent.

John the baptist’s message for the religious.

Didn’t sound too pleased with them.

Matthew 3.7-10 • Luke 3.7-9 • John 1.19-23

In Matthew and Luke’s parallel stories, John the baptist comes across a bit hostile towards the religious folks who come to check him out.

Matthew 3.7-10 KWL

7 Seeing many of the Pharisees and Sadducees coming to his baptism, John told them,

“You viper-spawn! Who warned you to escape the wrath of God?

8 Fine then: Produce worthy fruit, from repentant people.

9 Don’t presume to tell yourselves, ‘We have a father in Abraham’:

From these rocks, I tell you, God can raise up children for Abraham.

10 The axe lays at the root of the tree right now.

So every tree not producing good fruit is cut down and thrown into fire.”

Luke 3.7-9 KWL

7 John said this to the crowds coming to be baptized by him:

“You viper-spawn! Who warned you to escape the wrath of God?

8 Fine then: Produce worthy fruits, from repentant people.

Don’t start to tell yourselves, ‘We have a father in Abraham’:

From these rocks, I tell you, God can raise up children for Abraham.

9 Plus, the axe lays at the root of the tree right now.

So every tree not producing good fruit is cut down and thrown into fire.”

In John, not so much, but then again they’re not there to prejudge him, but find out just who he claims to be.

John 1.19-23 KWL

19 This is John’s testimony when the Judeans sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem

so they could ask him, “Who are you?”

20 He conferred with them, and didn’t refuse to answer: “I’m not Messiah.”

21 They questioned John: “Then what? Are you Elijah?” He said, “I’m not.”

“Are you the Prophet?” He answered, “No.”

22 So they told him, “Then what?—so we can give an answer to those who sent us.

What do you say about yourself?”

23 John said, “I’m the voice shouting in the wilderness, ‘Straighten the Master’s road!’ Is 40.3

like the prophet Isaiah said.”

These folks would be:

• Pharisees, whom I dealt with elsewhere. These are the religious Jews, as opposed to the irreligious, secular Jews. Many were actually trying to follow God. And same as us Christians, many were hypocrites, faking it for social and political acceptance. Jesus sparred with the hypocrites a lot, but don’t get the wrong idea all Pharisees were that way.
• Sadducees. Our present-day equivalent would be those pagans who call themselves “spiritual but not religious”—they believe in God, but not religion. Freakishly, these are the folks who ran the religion: The head priest, his family, and the leading families of Jerusalem, were in this camp. They believed in God and the Law, but not the supernatural: No angels, miracles, afterlife, End Times, resurrection, or prophets beyond Moses. Just God.
• Levites. You may have heard Israel had 12 tribes. They actually had 13, and Levi was the weird 13th tribe which had no land, lived in cities, and took turns serving in temple. Only Levites could be priests, and John was a Levite himself. Some were Pharisees, some Sadducees, some in other denominations. But all were involved in temple.
• “The crowds.” In Luke John is hostile to everybody, not just religious folks. Everybody gets slammed with his preaching. No exceptions. But it’s fair to say most of them were Pharisees, which I’ll explain in a bit.

John’s reaction to them was essentially, “What’re you doing here? Aren’t you saved already?”

The ministry of John the baptist.

Mark 1.2-6, Matthew 3.1-6, Luke 3.1-6.

Jesus’s story begins with John bar Zachariah, “the baptist.” (As opposed to “the Baptist,” meaning someone from the Baptist movement, which takes its customs of believer-baptism and full immersion from John’s practice.)

Mark 1.2-5 KWL

2Like it’s written in the prophet Isaiah:

“Look, I send my agent to your¹ face,

who’ll prepare your¹ road.” Ml 3.1

3“A voice shouting out in the wilderness:

‘Prepare the Lord’s road!

Make him a straight path!’ ” Is 40.3

4 John the baptist comes into the wilderness,

preaching a baptism of repentance—

to have one’s sins forgiven.

5The whole Judean country,

all Jerusalemites, go out to him

and are baptized by him in the Jordan River,

confessing their sins.

Matthew 3.1-3 KWL

1In those days John the baptist appears,

preaching in the Judean wilderness,

2saying, “Repent!

For heaven’s kingdom has come near.”

3For this is the word through the prophet Isaiah, saying,

“A voice shouting out in the wilderness:

‘Prepare the Lord’s road!

Make him a straight path!’ ” Is 40.3

Luke 3.1-6 KWL

1In the 15th year of Cæsar Tiberius’s governance,

Pontius Pilatus governing Judea,

Herod Antipas as governor over the Galilee,

Herod Philip his brother as governor over Ituría and Trachonítis provinces,

Lysanias as governor over Abiliní,

2Annas and Joseph Kahiáfa as head priests,

God’s message came through John bar Zechariah,

in the wilderness.

3John went into all the land round the Jordan,

preaching a baptism of repentance—

to have one’s sins forgiven—

4like the prophet Isaiah’s sayings,

written in the bible:

“A voice shouting out in the wilderness:

‘Prepare the Lord’s road!

Make him a straight path!’

5All ravines will be filled.

All roads and hills knocked down.

The crooked will be straightened.

The rough into smooth roads.

6All flesh will see God’s salvation.” Is 40.3-5

John doesn’t come first just ’cause of the chronology—John was prophesied to his father before Jesus was to his mother; John was born before Jesus; John’s ministry began before Jesus’s. The chronology was kinda irrelevant, because as John himself pointed out, Jesus existed before he did. Jn 1.30 And as the gospel of John points out, the word of God, the light of the world: John came to testify about that light, and point people to him.

That was John’s job. He was Jesus’s opening act.

Yeah, Christians tend to call him Jesus’s forerunner. Which he kinda was. But a “forerunner” in antiquity was simply the guy who ran way in front of the caravan—which could be of a visiting lord or invading army—and announce they’re coming. Again, John kinda was that. But he didn’t just proclaim Messiah, or God’s kingdom, was coming. He got people ready for the coming, by getting ’em to repent, by washing them clean first.

Christians also tend to call him Jesus’s herald. He was kinda that too. But a herald came instead of the person whose message he brought. You know, like prophets tell us what God’s saying, instead of (or in addition to) God telling us what he’s saying. John wasn’t a substitute for the Messiah he preceded; he said his superior was coming right behind him, and he considered himself unworthy to take Messiah’s shoes off. Mk 1.7 But Jesus would soon speak for himself.

John’s ministry began, as Luke pins it down, in the year 28, when both John and Jesus (figuring they were born in 7BC or so) were about 34 years old. He’s described as being in the ἐρήμῳ/erímo, undeveloped, unfarmed land—places where people neither lived nor worked, and couldn’t drive John off as a nuisance. We might call it the countryside or go with the KJV’s “wilderness.” There, John announced the kingdom was coming. So people, get ready!

The bible in “the original Greek”: The Septuagint.

SEPTUAGINT sɛp'tu.ə.dʒɪnt noun. An ancient Greek translation of the Old Testament.

[Septuagintal sɛp.tu.ə'dʒɪnt.əl adjective.]

When you read the New Testament, and one of the apostles quotes the Old Testament, most of the time they’re not translating it from the original Hebrew. They’re quoting a Greek translation.

There wasn’t just one translation. Same as English versions of the bible nowadays, different translators had taken different shots at putting the Hebrew scriptures into Greek. Some Greek-speaking Jew in Jerusalem might put together something like a “King Jonathan’s Version,” or KJV; some Greek-speaking Jew in Egypt might’ve cobbled together an “Egyptian Standard Version,” or ESV; some curious gentile in Laodicea might’ve put together a “New Laodicean Translation,” or NLT… I could come up with more hypothetical reasons for these familiar initials, but you get the gist. But over time, copyists smooshed all these different Greek bibles together into one sorta-kinda-the-standard copy, and we call it the Septuagint.

Why’s it called the Septuagint? Funny story. According to a Pharisee legend, told in the Letter of Aristeas, King Ptolemy Philadelphius of Egypt wanted a copy of the bible for his famous Library of Alexandria. So he asked Jerusalem for translators; they sent him either 70 or 72 scribes, who cleverly answered Ptolemy’s test questions and got the job. Each were given their own room, got to translating, and when done all their translations miraculously matched, word-for-word. Therefore this is an inspired, inerrant translation of the bible. (Oh, and septuaginta is Latin for 70. It’s why people tend to use the abbreviation LXX, the Roman 70, for the Septuagint.)

Yeah, it’s as bogus as the myth KJV-only adherents have for their favorite translation. Because if it really were an infallible version of the bible, the New Testament authors would’ve quoted it, and only it, for their scriptures. Instead some apostles quoted it. And others translated the Hebrew for themselves. Paul went back and forth. Seems sometimes he just didn’t care for the way the Septuagint put it, and decided to phrase the original Hebrew in his own way.

Jesus of Nazareth, child prodigy.

Luke 2.41-52

Growing up, I’ve usually heard this story taught this way: Jesus, now that he’s old enough to go to temple, went there with the folks for Passover. Afterwards, he stuck around and got into an interesting chat with the rabbis, and lost utter track of time. Extending into days, if you can believe he never noticed the need to sleep, eat, pee, etc.

Meanwhile his unwitting parents got halfway back to Nazareth before finally noticing their son was absent. They turned back, finally found him talking shop in temple, and Mary rebuked him: “Your father and I were worried!” But Jesus came back with, “I was doing the work of my real Father.”

But, in order to maintain appearances—in order to look like an ordinary human boy, instead of exposing the fact he was secretly a God-boy—Jesus went back to Nazareth with them. Back to their confining, non-intellectual existence. Behaving himself, quietly waiting for another 18 years for his time to come.

Yeah, that interpretation’s got problems.

First let’s look at the actual story.

Luke 2.41-42 KWL

41Jesus’s parents went to temple every year to the Passover festival.

42When Jesus was 12 years old

they took him to the festival as customary.

As devout Jews, Joseph and Mary would’ve gone to temple three times a year, as the Law commanded. Ex 23.17, 34.23, Dt 16.16 It wasn’t an option; it’s what they did. It was katá to éthos/“by the custom,” or customary. They, and everyone in Nazareth who also followed the Law, would caravan to Jerusalem for Passover, Pentecost, and Sukkot. Probably stayed with family in Bethlehem, and went to Jerusalem during the day.

And of course Jesus went with them. Passover was a family thing. This wasn’t Jesus’s first Passover in Jerusalem. It was his 11th or 12th. (’Cause y’know, he missed that one when Herod Archelaus had gone nuts and killed a bunch of people.) The whole point of this feast, and every feast, was to celebrate what the LORD had done in the past, and pass the history down to your kids.

Deuteronomy 6.21-25 KWL

21Tell your child, “We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt,

and the LORD brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand.

22The LORD gave prophetic signs and miracles, mighty—and bad—

to Egypt, Pharaoh, and all his house, right before our eyes.

23He brought us out of there, because he came to us

to give us the land he promised our ancestors.

24The LORD ordered us to do these duties, to live like today,

to fear our LORD God, who’s good to us every day.

25It’s only right of us that we keep doing this command

before our LORD God, like he charged us to.”

How Jesus became “Jesus the Nazarene.”

Imagine calling him “Jesus the Bethlehemite.” Hmm. Well, we’d have got used to it.

Matthew 2.19-23.

As we know from Luke, both Mary and Joseph were originally from Nazareth, but had to go to Bethlehem for survey reasons, and Jesus was born while they were there. But Matthew never told that part of the story; only that Jesus was born in Bethlehem. Mt 2.1 If all you had was that gospel, you’d think that’s where they lived already. And maybe that’s what the author of Matthew believed.

’Cause what happened was after Joseph took the family to Egypt to escape Herod’s mad little bout of infanticide, God finally lets him know it’s safe to return… and in returning Joseph “came to settle in a city called Nazareth,” Mt 2.23 KWL which implies he hadn’t already settled in Nazareth, and just hadn’t been home in a while.

Well. Assuming, as most of us do, that Jesus was born around the year 7BC; that he was about two-ish when Herod came a-killing (round 5BC), and that the reason they needed to hightail it to Egypt was because Herod wasn’t gonna die for a while (which he did in late March 4BC), that’s roughly the time we’re talking about.

Matthew 2.19-22 KWL

19 On Herod’s passing, look: The Lord’s angel appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt,

20 saying, “Get up. Take the child and his mother.

Go to Israel’s land: Those who sought the child’s life are dead.”

21 Getting up, Joseph took the child and his mother and went to Israel’s land.

22 Hearing Archelaus Herod was made Judea’s king after his father Antipater Herod, Joseph feared to go there.

After negotiating in a dream, he went back to a part of the Galilee.

But as you can see, once Joseph got back to Israel, he realized Judea was in no way a safe place to raise Jesus. ’Cause the Herod family was still in charge, and the crazy side of the Herod family was still in power.

Getting drenched in the Holy Spirit.

Spirit baptism is a controversial topic. ’Cause it involves power, and people either covet power, or fear it.

Luke 3.16-17 KWL

16 In reply John told everyone, “Indeed I baptize you in water.

And one stronger than me comes. I’m not able to loose his sandal strap.

He’ll baptize you in the Holy Spirit and fire.

17 The winnowing-shovel is in his hand to thoroughly clean his threshing-floor.

He’ll gather together the grain in his silo.

He’ll burn up the straw with endless fire.”

Getting baptized, ritually washed, in water was not a new idea for John the Baptist’s listeners. Any time they wanted to be clean for worship, they baptized themselves and waited till sundown. John’s baptism, for those who were repentant of their sins, was a little different. But Jesus’s baptism would be way different. It involved the Holy Spirit. And fire.

Before Jesus ascended to heaven, he told his students to wait in Jerusalem for that baptism, Ac 1.4-5 and 10 days later this happened:

Acts 2.1-4 KWL

1 When the 50th day after Passover drew near, all were together in one place.

2 Suddenly a roar came from heaven, like a mighty wind sounds,

and it filled the whole house where they were sitting.

3 Tongues, like fire, were seen distributed to them,

and sat on each one of them, 4 and all were filled with the Holy Spirit.

They began to speak in other tongues,

in whatever way the Spirit gave them the ability.

This, we recognize, is the baptism of the Holy Spirit and fire which both John and Jesus spoke of.

A number of Christians believe this was a one-time deal. The brand-new church, needing a kick in the pants from God to go out and do everything Jesus commanded them to, had God the Holy Spirit specially appear to them, prove he was among them, empower them, and from there they could go out and do the work of mighty Christians. Wouldn’t need to do it twice.

A larger number of Christians believe this so wasn’t a one-time deal. ’Cause it happened again. And again. And again and again and again. Happened to us. Still happens.

Yep, Christians have our own definition of “season.”

SEASON 'si.zən noun. An indeterminate period of time during which something happens.

Properly a season is a well-defined period of time. But people like to play fast and loose with how well-defined it actually is.

As soon as the weather switches to cold, whether that’s in November as usual, or freakishly earlier like September, people (Game of Thrones nerds included) start talking about winter: Winter’s coming. Some will go so far as to say winter’s here.

Winter’s not here till the winter solstice, which in the northern hemisphere is 21 December. Winter is defined by the time between the day of the year with the least daylight, and the next time we have equal day and night. Ends at the vernal equinox, 20 March. But that’s considered the scientific definition of winter, the too-literal definition. Winter means “the cold season,” however long that season lasts.

This sort of fudgery also happens with Christmastime. Again, Christmastime has a defined time: Starts on Advent, which begins the fourth Sunday before Christmas; ends at Epiphany, 6 January. And again, people figure “it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas” as soon as the stores start selling Christmas things—right after Halloween. Half of them object in rage: The Christmas season starts on Black Friday! Period! The rest of us actually like Christmas, and don’t mind it stretching back a little further. But it ends, as we all know, at midnight 26 December, when it’s time to take down the tree… then start debating whether Kwanzaa is a real holiday.

But as you notice, the human tendency is to take something which has limits and boundaries… then sand away at those edges till they’re nice and soft. Or till they break, and the contents spill over into whatever form we’ve invented.

So, “season.” As defined as ordinary seasons actually are, whenever we Christians start to talk about seasons, we don’t always talk about their boundaries. We don’t usually know them. We might know when a season began—we know it after the fact. But we don’t know when theyll end. We don’t know when the next one is coming. We don’t even know what the next one will consist of. We know what we hope it’ll consist of: We want it to be a season of prosperity, of joy, of blessing, of hope, of grace, of miracles, of anything positive. We’d like the next season to be better than our current one. Especially when the current one sucks, ’cause it could be a season of depression, of sorrow, of suffering, of hardship, of poverty—and we want it to end, and be replaced by something much better.