Bibliolatry: When Christians straight-up worship the bible.

Christianity is based on, and centered upon, the person and work of Christ Jesus. I hope you know this already. Most of us do.

But you’re gonna find a strain of Evangelicals who insist Christianity is based on the bible. They’re “bible-believing Christians,” as opposed to Jesus-believing Christians. (They would never say they don’t believe Jesus, but when they describe themselves, bible takes priority.) They attend “bible-believing churches”; I’ve attended more than one “Bible Church,” whether it be First Bible Church, Community Bible Church, Hometown Bible Church, and so forth. “Bible” has to be in the name somewhere, just to remind you they follow bible.

Being a bible-believing, bible-centered group, means they exalt the bible to a really high position in their religion. Nearly as high as God. Sometimes higher—and that’s where we cross the line into bibliolatry.

They will not call it bibliolatry, of course. They’ll call it love and respect for God’s holy word. Or “a high view of scripture” (a term which properly refers to how the Holy Spirit inspired it, not how highly we think of it). They’ll get into the Christian apologetics in which they argue for the bible’s centrality and preeminence.

But Jesus is meant to be center ad preeminent in our religion. If you put anything else there, no matter how good and useful it is, we’re talking idolatry. Doesn’t matter that it’s bible!

In my experience, bible-worship tends to happen most often among cessationists. No, they’re hardly the only ones who do it. But once you insist God turned off the miracles, and doesn’t talk to us anymore, what’re you left with? Well, your bibles. You’re kinda obligated to depend on your bible; it’s like if your mother abandoned you as a child, but left you a good-bye note saying she loves you, and you cling to that note and make it the most precious thing you own. It becomes a sad substitute for your mother. And for cessationists, that’s bible.

Likewise cessationists make bible a sad substitute for the Holy Spirit. We’re supposed to be talking to him, following his leading, developing his fruit. Cessationists believe we don’t do that; not really. They might imagine the Spirit afffecting our emotions somewhat, giving us nudges and warm fuzzy feelings… but as far as following his leading, nope; they follow the bible’s leading. The only way they expect to have a relationship with the Spirit is by reading what he inspired. By learning about him; not actually knowing him and having experiences of him. They reject such experiences.

So if we dare insult the bible, or show it what they consider a lack of respect, they’ll consider it blasphemy. They’ll actually call it that: We slandered their god. The bible must be treated with nothing but the greatest reverence. Never set your bible on the floor. Never doodle in it. Never toss it onto a table. Protect it in the biggest, thickest, real-leather bible covers. Capitalize “Bible” every time—even when we’re not talking about Christian bibles. To treat it as an ordinary book, is as if we treated God with anything other than majesty.

Yeah, the bibliolatry gets pretty blatant with them. It’s not at all hard to detect.

Too busy to pray?

Whenever I talk to people about prayer, and they confess they don’t pray, or don’t pray as often as they oughta, I have never yet heard one of them use the excuse “I’m too busy.” I have heard of people using that excuse—it’s why I bring it up today—but people have never used that excuse on me. More often they tell me, “It’s not a regular habit,” for they’ve not made it one. Or “I struggle to find things to pray about,” which is fair; they’ve made the common mistake of believing their prayers must be long, and consist of 15 minutes of prayer requests—and nevermind how short the Lord’s Prayer is.

I suspect that’s most of the reason people would claim they’re too busy to pray: They likewise think their prayers need to be padded into feature-length size. They think they don’t need a prayer minute; they need a prayer hour. Jesus used to pray to his Father for hours, Mt 14.23 so they figure we should at least be able to spare him an hour of our undivided attention.They need to get into their prayer closet, spend it sitting or kneeling or bowing on their prayer rug, with the candles and mood music and Jesus ikons, and bible opened up to an appropriate prayer passage.

But they don’t have time for that prayer hour. So they’ll get to it when they have a spare hour. And if you have work and kids—and probably read, or watch TV shows or sports, or play video games, which is where many of our “spare hours” usually go when we find some—good luck even finding a spare hour. Heck, once you find it, and get to praying, I betcha you’re gonna fall asleep in the middle of meditating.

Anyway let me back up and remind you prayer doesn’t have to take an hour. How long does it take to pray the Lord’s Prayer? Less than a minute? And can you pray the Lord’s prayer in the middle of doing something else?—obviously you can. So nobody’s too busy to pray.

That hour of undivided attention? That’s for advanced Christians. If you struggle to pray at all, you ain’t advanced! Stop running marathons when you can’t even make it round a track. Get in the habit of regular short prayers. Then—and only if the Holy Spirit tells you there’s an actual need for you to do this—start scheduling yourself longer prayer times. Meanwhile stick to the basics, and master them first.

How many times have you seen people in the grocery store, talking on their phones while they’re shopping? I see it every time I’m in the store. Are they giving their undivided attention to the people they’re talking to? Nope. Do the people they’re talking to, know this? Usually! Do they care? Most really don’t. Does God care if our attention is divided—if we’re praying to him while we’re shopping? Nope! If he does care—if you really should drop everything else, and do nothing but talk to him—the Holy Spirit will tell you so. But typically it’s not an issue at all.

So again: Stop fretting about your designated hours of prayer, and talk to God! Pray basic prayers. Anyone can do basic prayers. You included. Thank God for your meals. Thank God for your latest cup of coffee. Thank him when you get a green light or a parking spot. Especially thank him when you dodge a traffic accident.

If people pop into your mind and you think, “I oughta pray for them,” do that right now. You don’t need to pad your prayer till you’ve implored God on their behalf for 15 minutes; take however long it takes to let him know what you want, and how you’re feeling about it, which again might be less than a minute. If something interrupts your prayer, come back to it later.

Nobody’s too busy to pray. You included.

Jesus rejects karmic thinking.

Matthew 5.38-42, Luke 6.27-30.

There are plenty of people who incorrectly believe when we’re wronged, humans automatically, instinctively want justice and fairness. Nope! Humans are inherently selfish, and have to be trained and raised to want fairness and justice. Otherwise we’ll want vengeance and satisfaction. And vengeance and satisfaction are neither fair nor just.

Satisfaction doesn’t say “An eye for an eye”—it’s not at all about a proportional response. It’s about punishing people until we’re satisfied. Sometimes for sins against us; sometimes because they simply got in our way, and we’re petty like that. Some of us are satisfied with a sincere-feeling apology, but far more of us are only satisfied with our enemies dying in agony. It looks more like John Wick taking out an entire crime family because one of ’em killed his dog. Or, to use the bible, like Simeon and Levi ben Jacob killing a whole city of Hivites because Shekhém, the son of its prince, raped their sister. Ge 34 Killing Shekhem ben Hamór, I get; killing the city of Shekhém is literally overkill.

In order to mitigate this kind of vengeance, and keep it from escalating into generations-long feuds or genocide, God commanded the Hebrews to limit things to proportional responses.

Exodus 21.23-25 Schocken Bible

23But if harm should occur,

then you are to give life in place of life—

24eye in place of eye, tooth in place of tooth, hand in place of hand, foot in place of foot,

25burnt-scar in place of burnt-scar, wound in place of wound, bruise in place of bruise.

Leviticus 24.17-20 Schocken Bible

17Now a man—when he strikes down any human life,

he is to be put to death, yes, death!

18One who strikes the life of an animal is to pay for it, life in place of life.

19And a man—when he causes a defect in his fellow:

as he has done, thus is to be done to him—

20break in place of break, eye in place of eye, tooth in place of tooth;

as he has caused a defect in [another] human, thus is to be caused in him.

Deuteronomy 19.16-21 Schocken Bible

16When there arises a witness of malice against a man,

testifying against him [by] defection [from God],

17and the two men who have the quarrel stand before the presence of YHWH,

before the presence of the priests or the judges who are [there] in those days:

18the judges are to inquire well;

and [if] here, a false witness is the witness, falsely has he testified against his brother:

19you are to do to him

as he schemed to do to his brother.

So shall you eradicate the evil from your midst!

20Those who remain will hear and will be-awed;

they will not continue to do any more according to this evil practice in your midst.

21Your eye is not to take pity—

[rather] life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot!

I mean, if God hadn’t said anything, you’d get the more common practice of the death penalty for minor infractions; of an entire nation getting wiped out for one person’s crime. I was gonna say “more common ancient practice,” but it still happens. World War 1 started with an assassination.

But regardless of even these commandments in the Law of Moses, God’s standard is not proportional response, reciprocity, or karma as it’s often called. It’s not criminal justice. It’s grace.

And that’s the core of Jesus’s teaching in his Sermon on the Mount. He doesn’t want his followers to seek vengeance, or call it “justice” but really it’s vengeance. He wants us to be generous. And that includes generous attitudes towards those who wrong us.

Matthew 5.38-42 KWL

38“You² hear it being said,

‘Eye for eye’ and ‘tooth for tooth.’ Ex 21.24, Lv 24.20, Dt 19.21

39I tell you²:

Don’t hold your ground against evil.

Instead, whoever strikes your right cheek:

Turn the other to him as well.

40To one who wants judgment against you¹,

and wants to take your¹ tunic:

Give them your¹ robe as well.

41To whoever presses you¹ into service for one mile:

Go with them¹ for two.

42To whoever asks of you¹:

Give!

You¹ ought not turn away

one who asks to borrow from you¹.”

Luke 6.27-30 KWL

27“But I tell you² who listen:

Love your² enemies.

Do good to your² haters.

28Bless your² cursers.

Pray for your² accusers.

29To one who whacks you¹ on the cheek:

Offer the other as well.

To one who takes from you¹ your¹ robe:

You¹ ought not hold back your¹ tunic.

30Give to everyone who asks you¹.

From anyone who takes away what’s yours¹,

don’t ask it back.”

Trinity Sunday.

For western Christians, Trinity Sunday is the week after Pentecost; for eastern Christians it is Pentecost, or part of Pentecost. It’s the day Christians are meant to observe, celebrate, and teach about, the trinity.

God’s a trinity. We know there‘s one God; we know Jesus is God, and Jesus’s Father is obviously also God, and the Holy Spirit is God. Ancient Christians determined even though there are three persons who are God, we still have and recognize only one God, and came up with very basic explanations for the paradox. (And every time we venture beyond these explanations, we either start denying God’s threeness or God’s oneness, so really we oughta just leave it at that.)

Once the ancient Christians made the trinity, or our understanding of it, a doctrine, they incorporated it into their Sunday worship liturgies. Every time Christians gathered together, they’d affirm God is a trinity. They’d sing Gloria Patri/“Glory Be to the Father,” a still-popular hymn; here’s the Anglican Church’s English translation.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son,

and to the Holy Ghost.

As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be:

world without end. Amen.

Roman Catholics use the same words, but “Holy Spirit” instead of “Holy Ghost.”

Anyway for centuries, there wasn’t a special day for observing the trinity, although every once in a while there was a push for one—which church leadership resisted on the grounds that we observe the trinity every Sunday. Eventually Pope John 22 (reigned 1316–34) ordered a Feast of the Trinity for the Sunday after Pentecost—figuring that was the most appropriate time, ’cause humanity didn’t know God was a trinity till the Spirit descended on Pentecost in the year 33.

So what do Christians do for Trinity Sunday? Mostly just read the Athanasian Creed. Sometimes there are trinitarian prayers in the liturgy; sometimes the pastor preaches about the trinity. That’s about it.

Liberal and conservative theology.

If you’ve heard of theology, you’ve likely heard of “conservative theology” and “liberal theology”; of “conservative theologians” and “liberal theologians.” And you might presume you know what those mean: A conservative theologian is probably one who respects tradition and the bible, and a liberal theologian doesn’t.

Roughly that’d be accurate. Very, very roughly.

Properly, liberal theology is the same thing as unitarianism or deism: There’s one God, Jesus isn’t him, miracles don’t happen and never did and are myths (and therefore the bible is pure mythology), and those who consider themselves “spiritual” have gotta find a way to recontextualize Christianity for the present day. So, how you develop liberal theology is by following the present day’s lead: What do the people of today need to hear? What’s gonna make ’em feel spiritual, and feel good about themselves?

But how Christians typically use the term “liberal theology” is simply as a pejorative. Doesn’t always even mean liberal! An arch-conservative Jehovah’s Witness theologian, who interprets bible so strictly it gets ridiculous, who thinks God’s gonna smite everyone in the world but him, would be called a “liberal theologian” simply because he’s heretic. Liberal bad, conservative good.

Everybody’s kinda decided where they are on the theological spectrum. So, some woman might consider herself a theological conservative because she upholds the bible’s authority so very, very much. And most of us would agree, ’cause believing the bible is an infallible theological authority, is what we’d consider theological conservatism. But another person, a sexist man, might insist absolutely not; she’s obviously a liberal theologian. Why’s this? Well, she’s a woman. He insists the practice of doing and teaching theology is only for men, ’cause only men can teach, ’cause bible says so. She’s defying bible; ergo she doesn’t consider it an infallible theological authority, ergo she’s a liberal theologian.

I likewise consider the bible an infallible theological authority. I’d call myself a conservative theologian for this reason. But of course I’ve been called a liberal theologian—for a number of reasons. I believe the scriptures fully support women in Christian leadership, but sexists insist they fully don’t, and I must be twisting them to come to my conclusions; ergo I’m a liberal theologian.

Or I’ve expressed political views which they consider liberal. I was raised by political conservatives (and they’re still conservative), but as I became an adult and followed Jesus further, I chose to adopt a few “liberal” views because I think they’re consistent with Jesus’s teachings, and my former conservative views are not. I’m certainly not “liberal” across the board, ’cause I think my conservative views are likewise consistent with Jesus. It’s a hodgepodge of positions. But to political conservatives, any political heresy—for that’s what civic idolaters consider it—automatically makes me a “liberal theologian,” and untrustworthy when I discuss religion. Their partisanship takes priority over their Christianity. Or mine. Or yours.

Or it’s simply because I’m Pentecostal and they’re not; or because I uphold the ancient Christian creeds and they don’t. And you’d think upholding the creeds would make me considered more conservative than they, not less. But they covet the label “conservative,” and if I’m in any way wrong in their eyes, I get the label “liberal.” That’s my punishment for believing things they don’t.

So yeah—in practice “liberal theologian” means “more liberal than me,” and of course wrong and heretic.

“A man after God’s own heart.”

1 Samuel 13.13-14.

Throughout the books of the Old Testament which we call the “Deuteronomistic history”—’cause their author was showing how ancient Israel didn’t follow the book of Deuteronomy, and this is the reason the Israelis were banished from their land—the kings of northern and southern Israel were all compared with the greatest of all their kings, the third king of Israel, David ben Jesse.

True, Solomon ben David had expanded Israel’s borders and influence to their greatest limit, was ridiculously wise and outrageously wealthy, and had built God a really cool gold-covered cedar temple. But none of that matters to the Deuteronomist. David was his absolute favorite. Every king who followed, either “walked in all the way of David his father,” 2Ki 22.2 or “walked in all the sins” of some other forebear, but certainly not David. 1Ki 15.3 David was the paragon of what Israeli kings oughta be, and if you wanted to be a true “son of David,” you’d be just like David.

But wait: Didn’t David murder one of his loyal soldiers in order to steal his woman? Well yeah, he did do that. The Deuteronomist faithfully recorded the story in 2 Samuel 11. David was also a seriously lousy father; Amnon was a rapist, Adonijah an insurrectionist, and Absalom was both. The character flaws David exhibited would completely disqualify him from Christian leadership—which just goes to show you what an abysmally low bar there was for good kings. Not for nothing did we Americans decide to do away with monarchy. Power corrupts, y’know.

Still, the Deuteronomist loved him some David, and plenty of Christians are big fans too. More than one of my pastors, growing up, did entire sermon series on David. Multiple times! Regularly pointing out that, seriously flawed human being or not, David was bananas for the LORD, and loved him like crazy. David is, they loved to point out, “a man after God’s own heart.” As should we be.

They’re not wrong! But here’s why I decided to write a Context article about the phrase, “man after God’s own heart”: What they mean by that phrase, and what the scriptures mean by that phrase, are two wholly different things. And whenever Christians preach about being a person “after God’s own heart,” they’re not preaching the biblical meaning. They’re preaching their own idea.

Their idea, which we see all over the place in popular Christian culture, looks like this bit from Albert Barnes’ 1834 book Notes on the New Testament: Necessary and Practical, vol. III, Acts of the Apostles, which you can nowadays find bundled in a massive one-volume edition called Notes on the Whole Bible.

A man after mine own heart— This expression is found in 1 Samuel 13.14. The connection shows that it means simply a man who would not be rebellious and disobedient as Saul was, but would do the will of God and keep his commandments. This refers, doubtless, rather to the public than to the private character of David; to his character as a king. It means that he would make the will of God the great rule and law of his reign, in contradistinction from Saul, who, as a king, had disobeyed God. At the same time it is true that the prevailing character of David, as a pious, humble, devoted man, was that he was a man after God's own heart, and was beloved by him as a holy man. He had faults; he committed sin; but who is free from it? He was guilty of great offenses; but he also evinced, in a degree equally eminent, repentance (see Psalm 51); and not less in his private than his public character did he evince those traits which were prevailingly such as accorded with the heart, that is, the earnest desires, of God. Barnes at Acts 13.22

In more contemporary English: David was a devout, humble man who upheld and promoted God’s will. And when he sinned, ’cause David sinned big-time, he repented big-time. He just loved God so, so much.

In fact the way I’ve heard preachers describe him, David is “after God’s own heart” in that David chased after God’s own heart. He wanted to follow God and his will, so so much; just look at all the psalms he wrote about loving God, and calling upon him, and trusting in him; “the Lord is my shepherd” and all that. Seriously, bananas for the LORD.

I mean, doesn’t this sound like what “man after God’s own heart” oughta mean?

“I don’t know what to pray.”

Every once in a while I’ll hear this from new Christians: “I know I’m supposed to pray, but I don’t know what to pray. I don’t know what to tell God.”

Ridiculously simple answer to this one! Pray the Lord’s Prayer. Memorize a good translation of it, and tell it to God.

Matthew 6.9-13 MEV

9“Therefore pray in this manner:

Our Father who is in heaven,

hallowed be Your name.

10Your kingdom come;

Your will be done

on earth, as it is in heaven.

11Give us this day our daily bread.

12And forgive us our debts,

as we forgive our debtors.

13And lead us not into temptation,

but deliver us from evil.

For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.”

And if reciting this prayer leads you to riff on it—to think, “Oh, here are some specific examples of ‘daily bread’ I’m gonna need”—share that. Or “I wanna apologize for specific ‘debts’ I owe God”—talk about that. Or “I need help forgiving my debtors”—ask for that. The Lord’s Prayer is just a starting point, and if it inspires you to pray other stuff, good!—you’re doing it right.

Okay yeah, sometimes it’s not gonna inspire you to pray other stuff. You’ll whip through these words, and you won’t know what more to tell God. Relax; it happens. Prayer’s a new and tricky thing for you. It’s why the Didache recommended newbies pray the Lord’s Prayer thrice a day. [8.3] ’Cause the more often you recite it—the more comfortable you get with these words—the easier it gets to start thinking about what more you might wanna tell God.

Oaths, honesty, and multiple levels of truth.

Matthew 5.33-37.

Switching topics from divorce, Jesus next moves on in his Sermon on the Mount, to oaths. (Which isn’t entirely unrelated to oaths, ’cause y’know, marriage oaths.) This passage doesn’t have a parallel in the other gospels; it’s unique to Matthew.

Matthew 5.33-37 KWL

33“Again, you* hear the oldtimers say this:

‘You will not perjure,’ Lv 19.2

and you will give your oaths to the Lord’?

34I tell you:*

Don’t swear altogether.

And not by heaven,

because it’s ‘God’s throne.’ Ps 11.4

35Nor by earth,

because it’s ‘the footstool of his feet.’ Is 66.1

Nor by Jerusalem,

because it’s ‘the mighty king’s city.’ Ps 48.2

36Nor ought you swear by your head,

because you’re not able to make one hair

white or black.

37Make your* words ‘Yes yes, no no.’

Anything more than this is evil.”

Verse 33 is a little tricky, because the two things Jesus quotes “the oldtimers” as saying, consist of a bible quote, and a non-bible quote. And the bible quote isn’t a precise bible quote. Doesn’t bluntly, briefly say “Thou shalt not perjure,” in the scriptures. It’s a bit longer:

Leviticus 19.11-12 Schocken Bible

11You are not to steal,

you are not to lie,

you are not to deal-falsely, each-man with his fellow!

12You are not to swear by my name falsely,

thus profaning the name of your God—

I am YHWH!

Likewise verses which back up this idea:

Numbers 30.3 Schocken Bible

[Any] man who vows a vow to YHWH

or swears a sworn-oath, to bind himself by a binding-obligation:

he is not to desecrate his word;

exactly as what goes out of his mouth, he is to do.

Deuteronomy 23.22-24 Schocken Bible

22When you vow a vow to YHWH your God,

you are not to delay paying it,

for YHWH your God will require, yes, require it of you,

and it shall be [considered] a sin in you.

23But if you hold back from vowing,

it shall not be [considered] a sin in you.

24What issues from your lips, you are to keep,

and you are to do

as you vowed to YHWH your God, willingly,

as you promised with your mouth.

Swearing to God was a big deal. Still is a big deal. It’s why judges and courtrooms, despite separation of church and state, still tack “So help me God” to the end of oaths—it’s optional, but it’s gonna get religious people to take it seriously, and hypocrites to pretend to take it seriously. When we take the LORD’s name in vain, and break our oaths, or never meant to follow ’em to begin with, it’s sin.

But Jesus takes it one step further: Don’t swear, because you shouldn’t have to swear: Aren’t you always honest? Don’t you always tell the truth? Or are you—like a politician who lies the rest of the time, but never wants to suffer the consequences of perjury—only truthful when you’re under oath? How does that sort of behavior make you a God-follower?

Plus Jesus punctures all the other things people of his day swore by. I’ll get to those.

Pentecost.

Our word Pentecost comes from the Greek τὴν ἡμέραν τῆς πεντηκοστῆς/tin iméran tis pentikostís, “the 50th day” Ac 2.1 —the Greek term for שָׁבֻעֹת֙/Šavuót, which falls 50 days after Passover. It’s also called the Feast of Weeks; it’s when the ancient Hebrews harvested their wheat. Ex 34.22 On 6 Sivan in the Hebrew calendar, they were expected to come to temple and present a grain offering to the LORD. Dt 16.9-12 Oh, and tithe a tenth of it to celebrate with—and every third year, put that tithe in the community granary.

Why do Christians celebrate a Hebrew harvest festival? (And have separate “harvest parties” in October?) Well we don’t celebrate it Hebrew-style: We consider it the last day of Easter, and we celebrate it for a whole other reason. In the year 33—the year Jesus died, rose, and was raptured—the Holy Spirit descended upon Jesus’s new church on Pentecost. Happened like so:

Acts 2.1-4 NRSVue

1When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. 2And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. 3Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. 4 All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.

The speaking-in-tongues part is why the 20th century Christian movement which has a lot of tongues-speaking in it, is called Pentecostalism. Weirdly, a lot of us Pentecostals never bother to keep track of when Pentecost rolls around. I don’t get it. I blame anti-Catholicism a little. Anyway, Luke goes on:

Acts 2.5-13 NRSVue

5Now there were devout Jews from every people under heaven living in Jerusalem. 6And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. 7Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? 8And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? 9Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, 10Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, 11Cretans and Arabs—in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.” 12All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, “What does this mean?” 13But others sneered and said, “They are filled with new wine.”

Christians like to call this “the first Pentecost.” Obviously it wasn’t; the first Pentecost, or Šavuót, or Feast of Weeks, was after the Exodus. It’s when every devout Jew on earth was bringing their grain offerings to temple on that very day, 25 May 33. And suddenly a house full of Galileans broke out in every language they knew—spoken to as if to them personally.

Got their attention.

What is “theology”?

THEOLOGY θi'ɑl.ə.dʒi noun The study of God, his nature, and related religious beliefs.

2. One’s religious beliefs and theories, when systematically organized and developed.

[theological θi.ə'lɑ.dʒə.k(ə)l adjective, theologian θi.ə'loʊ.dʒən noun, theologist θi'ɑl.ə.dʒəst noun]

As you can see, theology has two definitions—and I find people mix ’em up all the time.

I talk about theology as Christianity’s collective study of God, and people think I’m talking about their theology, their beliefs about who God is. Or I’ll ask people about their theology, and they’ll respond, “Well it’s not what I believe; it’s what all true Christians believe”—as if other Christians aren’t permitted their own opinions. (Too often, to their minds, we’re not.)

And then there’s how pagans get confused about the word. I talk to them about theology, and they’ll say something like this:

SHE. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I don’t do theology.”

ME. “You don’t have beliefs about God?”

SHE. “I do, but I don’t do theology.”

ME. “What do you think theology is?”

SHE. “Dogmas. Doctrines. Whatever you call them. I don’t have those. I don’t do those.”

ME. “Okay. That’s not what I mean by ‘theology.’ Theology is either the study of God, or your own personal beliefs about God. And you do have personal beliefs about God, so you have a theology.”

SHE. “Personal beliefs about God? What, I have a theology and you have a theology?”

ME. “And everybody else has a theology. Which may or may not line up with some church’s doctrines or dogmas.”

SHE. “I don’t think that’s what anybody else means by ‘theology.’ ”

ME. “Check a dictionary. I’m going off the dictionary definition. If people believe ‘theology’ means something else… well that’s their theology.”

You’ll notice this hypothetical pagan is kinda wary about doctrines and dogmas, and it’s because most of the pagans I encounter are the “spiritual, not religious” type—they don’t wanna be told what to believe, and think “theology” is all about doing that.

And okay, figuring out what to believe is indeed the purpose of theology. We’re studying God because every single one of us is wrong about him, and wanna correct that, and are studying God so we can fix our theologies.

There are a number of ways we go about that study. First, we pick a religion. Usually it’s the one we grew up in; I grew up Christian, so I went with Christianity. Sometimes it’s the one we adopt later in life—I didn’t grow up Pentecostal, but I was going to a Pentecostal church, and figured if I was gonna study theology it should be at a Pentecostal seminary, so off I went. (And, as it turned out, all their theology professors were Calvinist, so I wound up learning a ton about Jean Calvin’s theology, which is mighty useful even though I myself am not Calvinist.) For some people they don’t pick a religion; they’re just fascinated by religious anthropology, and try to study them all. In so doing they often become religious: They like one religion better than the others, and become that. But just as often, they remain either theist or agnostic—but appreciative of all religions; or they join a religion which tries to include all the other ones, like the Unitarians or Baha’i.

Next we determine what, in that religion, is authoritative. For some it’s the leadership, or the current heads of the religion. For others there are traditions and scriptures. In Christianity, the current head of our religion is Christ Jesus. (He’s not dead, you know!) We gotta follow him—and there are scriptures containing his teachings; plus the writings of the apostles he trained; plus the prophets who wrote their own God-experiences, provided Jesus his cultural background, and of course foretold him.

And, depending on your sect in that religion, there are various traditions which influence how you understand things. My Pentecostal traditions admittedly, definitely affect how I understand the scriptures. Other traditions—fr’instance a cessationist or dispensationalist—is absolutely gonna spin the scriptures differently than I do, and make it consistent with their traditions. I would argue their traditions are making ’em read the scriptures wrong… and they would argue my traditions are making me read the scriptures wrong. And now you see why we’re in different sects.

Different kinds of grace.

GRACE greɪs noun. God’s generous, forgiving, kind, favorable attitude towards his people.

2. A prayer of thanksgiving.

[Gracious 'greɪ.ʃəs adjective.]

Had to start this article by reminding you of the definition of grace.

Yeah, plenty of Christians are gonna insist grace means, and only means, “unmerited favor.” But I consider that definition insufficient. I knew a dad who’d let his daughter get away with loads of stuff… and not out of grace; out of apathy. He didn’t care enough to check up on her, and he really should have—she was spending an awful lot of his money on stupid stuff! It may not have occurred to you that apathy can also be a type of unmerited favor. But it lacks love, and the most profound component of God’s favor is his love—exhibited by his favorable attitude. God is gracious because God is love.

When Christians talk about God’s grace, every so often one of us starts listing and detailing different types and kinds and forms of grace. Fr’instance I’ve written on prevenient grace. Other Christians are gonna talk a whole lot about God’s saving grace. And his common grace. Or preached grace, provisional grace, sustaining grace, enabling grace, serving grace, and miraculous grace. Or God’s justifying grace, his sanctifying grace, and his glorifying or eternal grace. There’s more than a dozen of these types of grace.

Except there aren’t really a dozen types of grace. There’s just grace. There’s only God’s generous attitude towards his people.

Since there are dozens of effects of God’s generous attitude, people regularly think it makes God’s grace into multiple graces. Theologians call ’em “kinds of grace.” But they’re not. God’s attitude is consistently the same. He still loves us, still forgives us, still does for us, still offers us his kingdom. It’s just sometimes we notice, “Hey, when it comes to salvation, God’s grace does [THIS COOL THING]… so I guess that’s what ‘saving grace’ is!” Nah dude; you’re just noticing different facets of the same infinitely valuable gem.

God’s grace is superabundant. It’s in way more places than we realize. When we find it in a place we weren’t expecting, sometimes we’ll foolishly think, “Oh this is a different kind of grace for this particular circumstance!” And again: Same God. Same love. Same grace. Different circumstances don’t turn it into a new thing.

Yep, this is yet another instance of us humans overcomplicating something that’s really not complicated. It’s a case of Christians thinking, “Wow, lookit all the different kinds of grace!—and how wise of me to know about each and every one of them.” Don’t get too full of yourself, chum. You didn’t really learn anything new about God; you only learned he applies grace in more places than you thought. And y’know what? He applies grace in way more places than even that. Like I said, superabundant.

The other problematic thing about compiling a big ol’ list of types of grace: You might lose sight of the fact grace is God’s generous attitude, and start thinking of grace as a substance which can be separated from the God who has it. Like magic dust which you can sprinkle on things to make ’em forgiven. Grace is not that; it can’t be divorced from the person who grants it. Divine grace without God behind it, ceases to exist. Human grace without a generous person making sure it’s effective, likewise ceases to exist—“What do you mean Dad canceled this credit card? No, don’t cut it up!” Any “type of grace” always has a grace-Giver at its center, and we should never take him for granted.

The prayers of repentant sinners.

Far too often I hear Christians claim God doesn’t answer the prayers of sinners.

I’ve read loads of books on prayer, and I find this is a recurring theme in just about all of them. For some of the writers, it’s their favorite theme: “The reason people don’t get their prayers answered, no matter how much they pray, is they won’t stop sinning. You gotta stop sinning!”

For proof, they quote verses like this one:

Isaiah 59.1-2 CSB

1Indeed, the LORD’s arm is not too weak to save,

and his ear is not too deaf to hear.

2But your iniquities are separating you

from your God,

and your sins have hidden his face from you

so that he does not listen.

Or this one:

Proverbs 15.29 CSB

The LORD is far from the wicked,

but he hears the prayer of the righteous.

Or this one:

Micah 3.4 CSB

“Then they will cry out to the LORD,

but he will not answer them.

He will hide his face from them at that time

because of the crimes they have committed.

Or this one:

John 9.32 CSB

“We know that God doesn’t listen to sinners, but if anyone is God-fearing and does his will, he listens to him.”

There are loads more, and I can easily go on, but you get the gist. It’s not at all hard to find bible passages which straight-up say God refuses to heed the prayers of evildoers.

There is, however, a vital element to all these scriptures which authors and preachers routinely skip. Some of ’em do in fact point it out. More often they just don’t. It’s the fact that when the writers of the bible say God won’t listen to sinners, they always mean unrepentant sinners. People who sin, expect to sin again, and never intend to stop.

Not people who sometimes sin, but strive to sin no more. You know, repentant sinners. Like every saint in the bible. Like you—I hope!

Jesus and divorce.

Matthew 5.31-32, 19.3-11, Luke 16.18.

The Fundamentalist churches I grew up in, didn’t believe in divorce—because, they claimed, Jesus doesn’t believe in divorce. Their proof texts are usually today’s passages:

Matthew 5.31-32 KWL

31“It’s said, ‘Whoever divorces his woman:

Give her a divorce document.’ Dt 24.1

32I tell you:*

Everyone who divorces his woman,

apart from a matter of unchastity,

makes her adulter.

And whoever might marry a divorcée,

adulters.”

Luke 16.18 KWL

“Everyone who divorces his woman

and marries another, adulters.

And one who was divorced from her man:

One who marries her, adulters.”

Hence most Fundies are pretty adamant that there’s one, and only one, reason for divorce: Πορνείας/porneías, unchastity. The KJV translates it “fornication,” and the NIV “sexual immorality.” Depending on your favorite bible translation, there are plenty of ways Fundies have found to spin what porneías means.

For most, it’s any and all nonmarital sexual activity. Sex before you’re married—porneías. Sex with anyone else while you’re married—adultery of course, and porneías. Pornography both before and during marriage: You’re looking at another person lustfully, adultering with that person in your mind, Mt 5.28 and Jesus bluntly forbids that, so that’s porneías too. Yep, porn is considered valid grounds for your spouse to divorce you. Doesn’t matter if your spouse is watching it with you.

Okay, but is our cultural definition of “sexual immorality” what the scriptures mean by unchastity?

Well, if you’re looking for me to say, “Nope!” so you can get away with stuff, I’m gonna disappoint you. Our cultural definitions, of course, aren’t the same. But they’re similar. Similar enough for there to be a bunch of overlap.

The people of Jesus’s day were still operating with a patriarchal idea of relationships between men and women. It’s an idea which in many ways is wholly inappropriate for Christians, ’cause it inherently turns women into second-class citizens, into the property of their patriarchs, and Jesus means for men and women to be equals in his kingdom. Husbands are not the masters of their wives, and any man who says so is usurping Christ Jesus’s rightful authority over his wife.

But in his Sermon on the Mount, Jesus isn’t teaching that particular lesson. He’s dealing with the culture as it was. Which isn’t our culture! So we gotta understand where they were coming from, before we can see just how this teaching applies to us.

Ascension: When Jesus took his throne.

This happened on Thursday, 15 May 33—if we figure Luke’s count of 40 days Ac 1.3 wasn’t a rough estimate, but a literal 40 days.

Acts 1.6-9 NRSVue

6So when they had come together, they asked him, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” 7He replied, “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. 8But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” 9When he had said this, as they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight.

I usually translate ἐπήρθη/epírthi (KJV “he was taken up,” NRSV “he was lifted up”) as “he was raptured.” ’Cause that’s what happened. Jesus got raptured into heaven.

From there Jesus ascended (from the Latin ascendere, “to climb”) to the Father’s throne—to sit at his right hand, Ac 2.33, 7.55-56 both in service and in judgment. We figure Jesus’s ascension took place the very same day he was raptured, so that’s when Christians have historically celebrated it: 40 days after Easter, and 10 days before Pentecost Sunday.

Some of us only focus on Jesus’s rapture—“Yay, he’s in heaven now!” And yeah, there’s that. But the way more important thing is Jesus taking his throne. When we say our Lord reigns, you realize his reign began at some point. Wasn’t when he died, and defeated sin and death; wasn’t when he rose from the dead, and proved he defeated sin and death. It’s when he took his throne. It’s his ascension day. Which we observe today.

Excommunication: Getting kicked out of church.

To a lot of people, excommunication is a scary word. Mainly because they get the definition wrong, and think it means damned: If a church excommunicates you, they figure it means they took back your salvation, and now you’re going to hell. They just gave you the eternal death penalty.

Which seems… well, mighty unchristian of them. Isn’t salvation and un-salvation up to God? Aren’t we, instead, supposed to be pointing to him, his grace and forgiveness, and supposed to be practicing some of that grace ourselves? What business do we Christians have in damning anyone?

Whoa, hey, calm down little hypothetical buckaroo. That’s not what it is, or means. Excommunication means, and only means, a church has kicked someone out. They don’t consider that person part of their church anymore. That person can no longer worship God with them—they can no longer share holy communion, which is where the word comes from. Someone you can share communion with is a “communicant,” but they are an “ex-communicant.”

Other churches don’t wanna use the word excommunication because they worry it does mean you’re un-saving someone, and they don’t presume they have the power to do that—or don’t wanna do that. So they call it other things. “Disassociation” or “disfellowshipping” or “expulsion” or “removal.” Whatever you wanna call it, it all means the same thing: They were in the church; now they’re not.

Why would we kick someone out of church? A number of reasons. The most obvious being they’re a dangerous person: They bring weapons to church, or pick fights, or can’t be trusted with children. For everybody else’s safety, they need to go away—sometimes in handcuffs, escorted by police.

More often it’s because of egregious sins, and they don’t care to repent of them. They’ve stolen stuff from the church; they’ve been promiscuous or abusive, and ruined relationships between church members; they’ve otherwise been a lousy Christian. Some of those sins are understandable when they’re new believers, but not when they’re longtime Christians, and definitely not if they’re in any position of authority or leadership.

Quite often, it’s because of heresy. They’ve been teaching stuff that goes against the church’s faith statement, or which violates historic Christian beliefs: Claiming Jesus isn’t really God, or God isn’t really a trinity, or there’s no resurrection of the dead, or Jesus isn’t ever coming back. They’re in a church which accepts miracles, yet they’re insisting miracles stopped in bible times, and every “miracle” since is devilish; or they’re in a church which forbids tongues, yet they’re insisting everyone should speak in tongues. They’ve been told to cut it out; they won’t, so out they go.

Also quite often, it’s voluntary. These people choose to disconnect themselves from their church. They think the leaders have gone wrong, or the church is heretic, or the members are sinners and hypocrites. Sometimes they even quit Christianity and left Jesus too. And sometimes it’s not even this particular church; they just don’t wanna go to any church anymore, for various reasons—none of ’em good.

Praying before bed.

When I was a kid, Mom would have us say our prayers before bed. We’d get in bed, the lights would go off, and we’d pray something along the lines of, “Dear LORD, please bless Mom and Dad and [big list of every family member and friend we could think of] in Jesus name amen.”

She didn’t have to make us do this; we wanted to. In fact we’d get really upset if we didn’t get to—and sometimes we didn’t get to. Mom would be busy, or Dad would require her attention and he’d tell us, “Just go to bed,” and since we were little kids we’d cry about it, and Dad would yell, “GO TO BED DAMMIT,” and we’d flee before he’d blaspheme further, or get out the paddle. But still cry.

As we got older we were kinda expected to do bedtime prayers on our own… and I got out of the habit. Mostly because my prayers weren’t short and simple anymore, and I kept falling asleep on God, and felt guilty about that. Even though there’s nothing wrong with falling asleep when you’re praying. Like Pope Francis used to point out, fathers love it when their children fall asleep on their lap; it’s the same deal with God. Besides, if it’s something we actually need to tell him, we’ll bring it up to him later.

But really, because of that irrational guilt about regularly falling asleep on God, I stopped praying before bed. I pray after I wake up.

Whenever I tell people this, I regularly hear, “Oh, you should really pray before bed. Otherwise you’ll have bad dreams.” Okay, maybe you’ll have bad dreams; I rarely do. If you think God will smite you with bad dreams because you don’t pray, or think evil spirits will invade your dreams because you didn’t ask God to put any hedge of protection around your sleep, do you have an unhealthy understanding of God. Honestly, if you’re having regular bad dreams, that’s a mental health problem. You need to talk to a therapist, not try to pray the problem away.

Other times, Christians will get super legalistic with me about bedtime prayer—as if we have to do it. Gotta pray when we wake up; gotta pray before bed; gotta say grace before meals; have to, or we’re bad Christians. That’s likewise an unhealthy understanding of God. Of course we Christians need to talk to our Father on a regular basis, but mandatory prayer times are our idea, not God’s. If I don’t pray before bed, even if it were my usual practice, I’m not in trouble with God!—and he’s not gonna smite me for missing prayer time. Nor is he gonna smite me for skipping grace, skipping my morning prayers, nor skipping all my usual prayers. I’ll feel weird about it—and that’s all.

So nope, you don’t have to pray before bed. But I will say if prayer calms you down—as it should, ’cause you’re thinking about God instead of your usual worries—it can be a healthy way to wind yourself down before bedtime. So can meditation and worship and other positive God-things we do. When we’re doing ’em right, they naturally drive out negativity.

Cutting it off.

Matthew 5.29-30, 18.8-9, Mark 9.43-46.

When I was a kid, I watched a Little House on the Prairie episode (“A Matter of Faith,” season 2, episode 15) where Caroline injured her foot, it got infected, and she was delirious from fever. At one point she read her bible—specifically, today’s passage, in which Jesus tells you to lop off an offending foot. So she got out a knife and got started.

Freaked me out a little. Because even as a kid, I knew this teaching is hyperbole. Jesus is saying something outrageously extreme in order to make a point: Sin is so awful, you’d be better off amputating your limbs than letting your sins destroy you. Especially destroy you eternally.

As a result he uses this teaching more than once. Once in Mark and twice in Matthew—and one of those times is in his Sermon on the Mount, which is why I bring it up here.

Matthew 5.29-30 KWL

29“If your right eye trips you up,

pluck it out and throw it from you!

For better for you

that you might destroy one of your bodyparts

and might not have your whole body

thrown into Gehenna.

30If your right hand trips you up,

lop it off and throw it from you!

For better for you

that you might destroy one of your bodyparts

and might not have your whole body

go off to Gehenna.”

Γέενναν/Géhennan is a transliteration of the Syriac word ܓܗܢܐ/Gehenna, the wadi of Hinnom, just outside Jerusalem, where the people of the city burnt their trash. The fires burned day and night—same as hell, which is why Judeans used Gehenna as a euphemism for hell. When Jesus talks about Gehenna, he might only be talking about negative consequences, like getting dumped in society or history’s trash heap. But most of us Christians are entirely sure he’s talking about the lake of fire at the End, Rv 20.14-15 the “everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and its angels.” Mt 25.41 There are four words translated “hell” in the bible; Gehenna refers to that one.

This story is where some Christians get the idea of mortal sins, sins which are so bad, committing ’em means you’re guaranteed hell. This belief is not biblical; there are no such sins. Only a lifestyle of unrepentant sin in defiance of God is gonna put people in hell.

But certain things, certain temptations, are gonna nudge us ever so slightly towards that lifestyle. I knew plenty of kids in my high school youth group who wanted to fornicate so badly—as kids do, ’cause they’re full of hormones. Certain people in our Fundamentalist church told ’em if they did, they’d be unrepentantly defying Jesus; they’d be apostate. (No, they actually wouldn’t, but you know how certain Fundies get whenever people go against their “God’s” will.) You can kinda guess how things turned out: Super horny, and presented with this false dilemma, the kids sadly chose to quit Jesus. Some of ’em came back to him. Some still haven’t.

And no doubt there were certain Israeli kids, certain Pharisees, in Jesus’s day, who figured either they had to obey Pharisee teachings, or they were going to hell… and they were greatly tempted to choose hell. Yes the Pharisees offered tons of loopholes for God’s laws… but there was no getting around Pharisee customs. Break a Law and there’s forgiveness; break tradition and there’s not.

Fundies are the very same way, which is why whenever Jesus broke Pharisee custom (as he regularly did) some of ’em actually claim Jesus broke God’s laws. No he didn’t; that’d make him a sinner! He only broke traditions which God never implemented; which might be “biblical principles” but they were never God’s principles.

So what Jesus is talking about here, are actual sins. Deliberate violations of the Law of Moses. And yes, God forgives those sins too. But if you’re tempted to enter an unrepentant lifestyle of those sins, however you justify it to yourself: Better you stop lopping off bodyparts.

Backsliding. We all do it… 𝘪𝘧 we’re following Jesus.

BACKSLIDE 'bæk.slaɪd verb. Relapse into bad ways or error.

[Backslider 'bæk.slaɪ.dər noun.]

Most people imagine the road to sanctification isn’t level: It’s uphill. A bit of a climb, too. Paved with gravel instead of asphalt. So on the particularly steep parts, if you haven’t got enough forward momentum, the ground’s gonna slip under your feet just a little. If you’re standing still, it’s gonna slip a lot. It’s the natural consequence of gravity, y’know. You can’t just stand still. Keep moving!

In this metaphor, the gravitatonal pull represents our natural human tendency towards selfishness, self-centeredness, and sin. When we stop striving to follow Jesus, even for a second, we’re gonna backslide.

Okay, if the pursuit of Jesus is actually like this, shoudn’t we Christians be way more gracious, generous, and sympathetic towards backslidden fellow Christians? ’Cause I used to hike several times a week. (I lived in the Santa Cruz mountains; it was kinda unavoidable.) On every unpaved hill, there’s always backsliding. It’s unavoidable. On wet days, even with the best shoes, you can always make a misstep and fall on your face. I came back from many a casual hike covered in mud, simply becaue I tackled a hill which looked deceptively easy to scale.

The Christian walk—when we’re doing it right—will have way bigger challenges than wet hills. We’re gonna fumble. A lot. But we get back up again. Kinda have to; the road home leads up that hill.

Problem is, because of the massive convenience of living in a predominantly Christian country, we American Christians really don’t struggle with our Christianity much. If at all. (And most of us don’t go hiking either.) So maybe we’ve not thought this “backsliding” metaphor all the way through.

Or even really know what we’re talking about. Fr’instance: Back in my high school youth group, one of the girls became pregnant. The church gossips were mighty quick to comment how she’d so obviously “backslidden.” Thing is, I was friends with the boyfriend who’d impregnated her: She hadn’t backslidden at all. She had no relationship with Jesus. She attended the youth group ’cause all her friends, and her boyfriend, were there. She sang in the church’s choir because she was a good singer, and the music pastor appreciated her talent. The gossips assumed her church attendance, and her public on-stage praise of Jesus, meant she was Christian. Nope! Outside church, she was as pagan as anyone. She was no backslider: She wasn’t even climbing.

I find the very same thing to be true of most “backsliders.” They’re not following Jesus any. They’re going to church for other reasons. They’re friendly enough at church; they know what’ll offend conservative Christians, and avoid that. They know how to behave.

Of those who are Christian, they’re not following Jesus because they figure they’re saved, and once saved always saved. So they’re good. Why make an effort?—at all?—’cause that’s just works righteousness, and doesn’t save us, so it’s not worth doing.

The rest aren’t. They’re not hypocrites—they’re not pretending to be Christian; they’re not doing anything. Ask ’em about their beliefs about God, and they’ll admit they believe as pagans usually do. They figure there’s a God; Jesus is his son, but not uniquely so, and not also God; the Holy Spirit is either an impersonal force or one of God’s nicknames; and you go to heaven if you’re a “good person,” which they’re pretty sure they are… which is why they don’t follow Jesus; they’re “good.” Nor following the Christian crowd either. Following their own hearts, if that.

So “backslider” is the wrong term for such people. Which is why I use “irreligious.”

Transliteration: Because in some languages, you’re illiterate.

By now you’ve likely learned the bible wasn’t originally written in English. (Although good luck informing certain King James Only folks of this. Most of ’em know better, but there are some holdouts who still think God speaks in King James English.)

The bible was written in three dead languages, languages nobody speaks anymore. The present-day versions of these languages are not the same. Languages evolve.

• Modern Hebrew uses western word order (subject-verb-object, “I go home”), but ancient Hebrew typically used the original middle eastern word order (verb-subject-object “Go I home”). Plus Modern Hebrew’s vocabulary is way bigger, what with all the necessary loanwords from Yiddish, English, German, Russian, and Arabic. Plus the pronunciation’s different, much like the differences between American, Australian, Indian, and Nigerian English from the way it’s spoken in the U.K. (The many ways it’s spoken in the U.K.)
• Modern Greek has a different vocabulary and different grammatical rules than the Alexandrian Greek of the New Testament. Same reasons as Hebrew. And Alexandrian Greek is different from Attic Greek before it, and Mycenaean Greek before that.
• Syriac speakers love to point out Jesus spoke the same language they do, but the Babylonian Syriac of the bible (and the first-century Syriac, which western Christians call “Aramaic,” which Jesus spoke) is like saying Geoffrey Chaucer spoke English like us. He did… but when you try to read the Canterbury Tales, it’s obvious he kinda didn’t.

The Old Testament is written in what we call Biblical Hebrew—the older parts in Early Biblical Hebrew, and the Syriac-influenced later parts in Later Biblical Hebrew. A few chapters are in Syriac, the language of the Babylonian Empire—the language Daniel put some of his visions into. After the Jews returned from Babylon, that’s what they spoke too, and that’s what Jesus spoke, as demonstrated by the few direct quotes we have of him in the New Testament. As for the NT, it’s in a form of Alexandrian Greek we commonly call Koine Greek, a term which comes from the word κοινή/kiní, “common.”

And I know; most of my readers don’t know these languages. I learned them in seminary, ’cause I wanted to read the bible in the original. I wanted it unfiltered by some other translator. Not that most translators don’t know what they’re doing; not that most English translations aren’t well done. They are. But if I’m gonna seriously study bible, I still wanna read the original, and go through the process of translation myself. That’s why I translate it for TXAB.

In so doing, I often need to talk about the original-language words. So I convert ’em into our alphabet so you can kinda read them. It’s called transliteration. People have always done it. Mark did it in the bible, converting some of Jesus’s Syriac sayings into Greek characters. (In my translation I use the original Syriac.)

Mark 5.41-42 KWL

41He gripped the child’s hand

and told her, “ܛܠܺܝܬ݂ܳܐ ܩܽܘܡܝ,”

(which is translated, “Get up, I say”)

42and the girl instantly got up, and was walking around—

she was 12 years old.

They were amazed and ecstatic.

I use the Syriac alphabet, but back then it was written in the Assyrian alphabet; the same one Hebrew’s written in. But Mark’s Greek-speaking readers, unless they were Israelis or Syrian Greeks, were unlikely to know that alphabet. So he turned the original Syriac into ταλιθα κουμ/talítha kum. There, now they can read it… although he still needed to translate it, and did.

Prior to 2019, I transliterated everything on TXAB, and left the original Hebrew, Syriac, and Greek out. ’Cause foreign languages intimidate certain people. Throw some Hebrew-alphabet words on a page, and people flinch: “Argh, he’s writing in Hebrew! I can’t possibly read that. I can’t possibly read anything he’s written; he’ll get too technical for me.” I know; to many of you this sounds ridiculous. But I assure you people really freak out that way. And I didn’t wanna alienate readers.

I then came to realize in so doing, I’ve accommodated people’s irrational fears. And shouldn’t. Such fears are wholly inappropriate for Christians. If foreign languages freak you out, you need to get over it. Need to. It kills your compassion for foreigners, and ruins your ability to share Jesus with them. You realize Jesus includes us foreigners in his kingdom. So in some of those older articles, I put the original text back in, and of course ever since 2019 it’s been included. And relax, I’ll still transliterate it for you.

Elisha’s double portion.

2 Kings 2.9-10.

First time I heard of a “double portion” had to do with food. You’re slicing up the pizza; you want two slices instead of just one; how come Dad gets two slices and you don’t? But no, that’s not what it refers to in the bible.

First time I heard of double portions in the bible, was in Sunday school. It was a lesson our overeager youth pastor taught us about the eighth-century BC prophet Elijah of Tishbe, the guy who turned off the rain for three years, made a gentile widow’s flour and oil last way longer then it shoulda, and called down fire on both altars and men.

Elijah didn’t die; he was raptured. And when it came time for that to happen, he handed off his job to his apprentice Elisha ben Shaphat, and they had this conversation:

2 Kings 2.9-10 KWL

9This happened when they crossed the river:

Elijah told Elisha, “Ask what I can do for you

before I’m taken away from you.”

Elisha said, “Now give two portions of your spirit to me.”

10Elijah said, “A tough thing to ask!

If you see me taken from you, this’ll happen to you.

If not, it won’t.”

As the King James Verison puts it, Elisha asked for “a double portion of thy spirit.” And as our excited youth pastor put it, Elisha asked for twice the spirit of Elijah. Twice the anointing. Double the power!

And after Elisha watched his master ascend to heaven, he got it! As proven by the fact Elijah performed seven miracles in the bible, but Elijah performed twice that number, a whopping 14. (True, one of ’em took place after Elisha died, when a corpse came back to life after touching the prophet’s bones. 2Ki 13.21 But it totally counts.)

Some years later I became Pentecostal. Unlike my previous church, Pentecostals correctly understand the spirit who empowered Elijah is the Holy Spirit; that every time a human being does miracles they’re doing it with the Holy Spirit’s power, ’cause he’s the one who inspired 1Pe 1.21 and empowered 1Co 12.11 prophets. But the spin of my Pentecostal pastors on “the double portion” isn’t that Elisha was granted twice Elijah’s spirit, but twice the Holy Spirit.

No, this doesn’t mean there were two Holy Spirits knocking around inside Elisha. There’s only one God. It only means the Spirit empowered Elisha twice as much as he did Elijah. Elisha became twice as miraculous. Twice as prophetic.

Okay. For fun, let’s imagine one of Elisha’s students made this very same request of him when he was gonna pass on. Let’s say Elisha agreed. So theoretically, this student could’ve received twice Elisha’s anointing. Elisha did 14 miracles; Elisha’s successor could’ve performed 28 of them. Right?

So if this successor passed a double-portion anointing to his successor, a third guy, that guy could’ve done 56 miracles. His successor, 112 miracles. The next successor, 224 miracles. And so on, and so on.

A thousand generations later, devout descendants of Elijah’s anointing and Elisha’s double anointing, could potentially perform so many miracles, they’d do ’em by accident. Sneeze in an elevator, and everybody steps out totally cured of their allergies. Fart and everyone’s gastroenteric problems are gone. And so forth.

How sad, this Pentecostal lamented, that people didn’t have the faith to keep pursuing this “double portion anointing.” They could’ve doubled the miracles in the world with every successive generation.

How sad, I’ve learned since, that people keep repeating this old, and very stupid, Christian cliché. ’Cause it proves they’ve clearly not read the other parts of the bible, which clear up precisely what a “double portion” is. Heck, they’ve probably heard it explained before, but some mental disconnect keeps ’em from applying it to the Elijah/Elisha story.

Our lusts might create big, big trouble.

Matthew 5.27-28.

There are a lot of similarities between the first and second of Jesus’s “Ye have heard… but I say unto you” teachings in his Sermon on the Mount. That, and both are largely misinterpreted because our culture and Jesus’s are so different.

The first is Jesus warning us about anger; this one about lust. And just like we gotta get ahold of our anger, lest it lead to sins like murder, we’ve gotta get ahold of our lusts, lest it lead us to sins like adultery.

And again, I should point out: Anger’s not a sin, but it clearly leads to sin when we don’t control ourselves, and let our anger control us instead. Lust works the very same way: It’s not in itself a sin. (No it’s not. Feel free to lust for your spouse!) But out-of-control lust can absolutely lead to sin, and again, that’s what Jesus is warning his audience, and us, about.

Matthew 5.27-28 KWL

27“You* hear {the oldtimers} say,

‘You will not adulter’? Ex 20.14, Dt 5.18

28I tell you:

Every man who looks at a woman to covet her,

adulters with her already, in his heart.”

I have “the oldtimers” in brackets because the Textus Receptus, and therefore the King James Version, includes the words τοῖς ἀρχαίοις/tis arhéis, “to the ancients”—borrowing the words from Jesus’s previous instruction Mt 5.21 to make it line up better. But it’s not found in bibles till the 700s. Eusebius of Cæsarea misquoted verse 27 that way in his Church History, so people were already misquoting verse 27 by the year 340, but tis arhéis is not in this verse in the oldest copies of Matthew.

Okay. Since Jesus talks about adulteration, I gotta remind you adultery in bible times is not what our culture means. Generally pagans define adultery very narrowly: It’s extramarital intercourse when committed without permission. If you’re not married, it’s just “cheating,” it’s not adultery; if your spouse actually grants you permission to have sex with others, it’s not adultery. Conservative Christians of course have their own definition: It’s every form of nonmarital unchastity. Premarital sex, extramarital sex, self-gratification, everything. Don’t have a spouse?—then you’re cheating on your potential spouse, and that’s adultery too.

None of this is what the ancients who wrote the bible meant by it. Not in the 15th century BC, when the the Ten Commandments were declared; nor the first century when Jesus taught. Adultery meant sex with anyone who’s not yours. In their largely patriarchal culture, women weren’t equals; they were subjects whom men ruled over as their lords. Fathers, husbands, boyfriends, slaveowners—they were held responsible for the women under them, and these women were obligated to obey.

Today’s sexists love the idea, and point out hey, it’s described in the bible, and described as the way things were oughta be, ’cause it’s must be a biblical principle! They wanna go back to those “good ol’ days”—and nevermind the proper biblical principle of women and men being equal under God. But I digress.

Here’s the deal. When Jesus is talking about a man coveting a woman, the man isn’t properly thinking, “I could see us raising a family and running the family business together”; he was thinking, “I wanna do sexy, sexy things to her”—regardless of any ideas she might have. Hormones, y’know.

And same as anger could easily escalate to murder, lust could just as easily escalate to rape. Yes, rape. People keep presuming “adultery” in the bible was consensual. In some cases it might have been. But that just makes it statutory rape, like when someone in our culture has sex with a minor: An ancient woman was under a lord, which means her “consent” wasn’t lawful.

In our day it’s not rape, because God and our current laws did away with patriarchy and slavery. Married women voluntarily belong to their spouses. Underage girls belong to their parents till they reach an age where (supposedly) they’ll be responsible. Every other woman is free: She belongs to no one but herself. And if she doesn’t agree to be yours, once again, sex with her is rape.

Yep. That’s what Jesus’s teaching now means in today’s culture.

If you thought doing away with patriarchy made things lighter, or gave us a bunch of loopholes, it really didn’t. Everybody who looks at a woman to deliberately covet her, who has no business nor permission to imagine such things of her, has raped her in their heart. People object to radical feminists (or even ordinary feminists) using such terms to describe the way men leer at them, or referring to their objectification as “rape culture.” Turns out they’re absolutely right.

And I remind you: Jesus’s instruction was primarily addressed to the young men he taught, but it applies just the same to women. Covet a man who’s not yours, and it’s either mental adultery or mental rape. So don’t go there.

On the election of a pope.

Back when Francis was elected pope in 2013, I wrote the following article for a previous blog. You can change that first paragraph to read, “On 8 May 2025, a Roman Catholic committee of church leaders elected Cardinal Robert Prevost of the United States to be their church’s new leader, the pope. By custom, the new pope usually takes on a new name as part of the job, so he’s gonna be known as Leo XIV.”

Annoyingly, the reasons I wrote this article still apply. So, time to rehash it.

On 13 March 2013, a Roman Catholic committee of church leaders elected Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio of Argentina to be their church’s new leader, the pope. By custom, the new pope usually takes on a new name as part of the job, so he’s gonna be known as Franciscus, or for we English-speakers, Pope Francis. (Named for one of my favorite saints, Francesco Bernardone, a.k.a. Francis of Assisi.)

What does this mean for Christians? Well, not every Christian is a Roman Catholic. I’m not. But since Catholicism is the largest branch of Christianity, and since your average pagan has no idea about what a pope is or does, or even the differences between one denomination and another, they’re gonna assume the pope is in charge of Christianity, and anything he does affects every single Christian on the planet. You know, like everybody assumes the Dalai Lama is in charge of every single Buddhist. (Oh, wait, you thought he was in charge of every Buddhist? Well now you know how pagans think of the pope.)

The pope’s job, really, is to preserve the Catholic Church: He preserves the gospel of Christ Jesus, and he upholds his church’s traditions. Pagans don’t understand this: They think the pope is the boss of the church. They think he can order the church what to do and think. That’s why a lot of pagan journalists love to speculate, “What sort of changes might a new pope make in the Catholic Church?” Some of them dream of a new, exciting, permissive pope who’ll make all the progressive changes they’ve been fantasizing about: No more bans on abortion and birth control. No more bans on same-sex marriage. Anybody can become a priest, whether male or female, gay or straight, married or single, Christian or atheist. Anything they wish wasn’t a sin, will now totally be permitted. (That way, they’ll feel a whole lot better about identifying themselves as Catholic, despite the fact they don’t follow Catholic teachings, or even Jesus, at all.) But none of that is the pope’s job. He can’t change any of that. Not without a great big church council, and sometimes not even then.

Now, other denominations don’t work this way. In some, the president decides the church is gonna work a different way, and by golly it does work a different way. In others, the pastors gotta meet and vote before changes can be made—but sometimes they do vote, and huge changes are made. Now, we can debate about whether those changes are any good, or consistent with the scriptures at all. (Some of them certainly aren’t.) But the Catholic Church isn’t one of those denominations. Change comes slowly. And they’re not gonna ramp up the process, simply because society rushes headlong into everything.

Te Deum.

Te Deum teɪ 'deɪ.əm is a rote prayer. Really it’s a hymn which dates back to the late 300s. It’s named for its first words, Te Deum laudamus/“To God we praise.” Traditions say it was written by St. Ambrose when he baptized St. Augustine. Or St. Hiliary or St. Nicetas of Remesiana wrote it. Meh; who cares how we got it. It’s been a popular prayer for the past 17 centuries, and has been set to music many times in many ways.

The Presbyterian Church’s Book of Common Worship translates it like so.

We praise you, O God,

we acclaim you as Lord,

all creation worships you,

Father everlasting.

To you, all angels, all the powers of heaven,

the cherubim and seraphim, sing in endless praise:

Holy, holy, holy Lord, God of power and might,

heaven and earth are full of your glory.

The glorious company of apostles praise you.

The noble fellowship of prophets praise you.

The white-robed army of martyrs praise you.

Throughout the world the holy church acclaims you;

Father, of majesty unbounded,

your true and only Son, worthy of all praise,

the Holy Spirit, advocate and guide.

You, Christ, are the king of glory,

the eternal Son of the Father.

When you took our flesh to set us free

you humbly chose the Virgin’s womb.

You overcame the sting of death

and opened the kingdom of heaven to all believers.

You are seated at God’s right hand in glory.

We believe that you will come, and be our judge.

Come then, Lord, and help your people,

bought with the price of your own blood,

and bring us with your saints

to glory everlasting. BCW 570-571