King David and “biblical masculinity.”

When I was a kid, my pastor preached a sermon series on the life of King David. This’d be David ben Jesse of Bethlehem, third king of Israel, who reigned about 40 years during the 10th century before Christ. Many consider David the greatest king of ancient Israel; yep, even greater than his outrageously rich and legendarily wise son Solomon. His story’s found in Samuel, the very first part of Kings, and a few chapters of Chronicles.

In my teenage years—same church, same pastor—he decided to preach another series on the life of King David. Nope, not from a different point of view; same one. Very same one. “Guess I’m old enough to notice when Pastor’s doing reruns,” I joked at the time.

But seriously: Two sermon series on David in less than a decade? It’s not like the bible is short on material, nor important bible figures to expound upon. Jesus himself has so much material in the New Testament, it’d make sense to cover him multiple times, if not constantly. But David? What’s this fascination with David?

My pastor was a fan. As are lots of Christian men. David is a “man after God’s own heart,” and men presume this means David’s thoughts… were just like God’s thoughts! David pursued God so hard, he knew God better than anyone else. So this’d make David a role model, right? The best example ever of a God-minded man. It’d do well for us to look at David’s life in great detail, and learn how to likewise be men after God’s own heart.

Plus David’s not just any man. He’s a warrior. He’s a fighter. He killed hundreds of Philistines. Sometimes in war… and sometimes as part of the world’s most disgusting dowry. 1Sa 18.27 David also had multiple wives and at least 10 concubines, and while that’s wholly inappropriate behavior for Christians no matter what era you live in, you’ll notice plenty of Christian men will openly admire, even envy, David’s promiscuous success with the ladies.

David also write music and poetry, including many biblical psalms. He wept where appropriate (and sometimes where not 2Sa 18.33 - 19.8), danced himself silly before the LORD, 2Sa 6.14 and expressed manly emotion in ways most of these Christian men heartily approve of.

David’s a role model to these men in lots of heroic, masculine ways. And I won’t even touch upon the “masculine” ideas they project upon him which have no basis in scripture, ancient Hebrew culture, or common sense—ideas which are entirely based on conservative, usually sexist, Christian culture.

So yeah, the Christian fandom consists of a lot of that. David was a real man, they figure; a real man like they wanna be, and they use him to justify themselves and their “manly” behavior. If David was this way, they get to be this way. David’s after God’s own heart, right?—well so are they, ’cause they’re trying to be just like David.

Thing is, as Christians… aren’t we called to be like, oh I dunno, Jesus? Isn’t he the real man we’re actually instructed by the scriptures, instructed by Jesus’s apostles, instructed by Jesus himself, to follow, to be like?

The Nicene Creed.

If you consider yourself an authentic orthodox Christian, you should be able to read the following creed, and easily agree with it 100 percent. If not… well, you gotta work on that.

I believe in one God:

The Father, the almighty,

maker of heaven and earth,

of all things, visible and invisible.

I believe in one Lord, Christ Jesus,

the only-begotten Son of God,

begotten of the Father before all ages.

God from God, light from light,

true God from true God, begotten not made,

of one being with the Father.

Through him all things were made.

For us and for our salvation

he came down from heaven;

by the Holy Spirit was incarnate from the virgin Mary.

He was made man.

For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate.

He suffered death and was buried.

On the third day he rose again in accordance with the scriptures.

He ascended into heaven.

He’s seated at the right hand of the Father.

He’ll come again in glory to judge the living and the dead.

His kingdom will have no end.

I believe in the Holy Spirit,

the Lord, the giver of life.

He proceeds from the Father [and the Son].

He, with the Father and the Son, is adored and glorified.

He’s spoken through the prophets.

I believe in one, holy, catholic, and apostolic church.

I recognize one baptism for the forgiveness of sins.

I look forward to the resurrection of the dead

and the life of the world to come.

Amen.

When we Christians define orthodoxy—the doctrines Christians oughta hold to, as opposed to heretic beliefs which lead us away from God—we often do it subjectively. We presume we get to define what’s orthodox and what’s not; we have bibles and the Holy Spirit, so shouldn’t we easily able to do this? We fix the standard.

I know; loads of us are gonna claim it’s not really us who fix the standard; the bible does. Which sounds humble enough, but it’s tommyrot: Our interpretation of the bible sets the standard, and since its ours, it ultimately comes back to us. Still subjective.

Others point to their denomination or individual church’s faith statement. Sounds slightly less subjective, ’cause most of the time they had nothing to do with the writing of these faith statements; they started going to their churches, and later agreed to the churches’ faith statements. Thing is, unless we live in a Christian nationalist country (say, Russia) where there’s an official state church in which we’re automatically enrolled, and we’re obligated to abide by that church’s beliefs whether we ever attend that church or not… we get to choose our churches. We get to accept, or reject, those churches’ faith statements. We can pick a church based on its faith statements; we can decide, “I don’t like what that church believes; I’m going to this one, which believes as I do.” Still subjective.

So this is why I point to creedal Christianity. They define Christian orthodoxy. The ancient Christians hammered ’em out in the first seven centuries of Christianity, way back before Christianity split into Orthodoxy and Catholicism and all the other denominations. They predate me by about 1,650 years, so I can’t claim I define them.

And the very first formal faith statement is this one, written in Níkea, Asia Minor, Roman Empire (today’s Iznik, Türkiye) in the year 325, and updated in 381. We call it the Nicene Creed, although the Orthodox and Catholic churches call it the Symbol of Nicene Faith (Greek Σύμβολο της Πίστεως της Νίκαιας/Sýmbolo tis Písteos tis Níkeas) or Nicene Symbol (Latin Symbolum Nicaenum), or Faith Symbol. Nearly every other creed is based on it.

When you fast, keep it private.

Matthew 6.16-18.

Believe it or don’t, some Evangelicals have no tradition of fasting. I run into ’em from time to time. When I talk fasting, they’re quick to reject it with “That’s an Old Testament thing” and “Jesus never told us to fast.”

True to both. In all of scripture, the LORD never commanded fasting; anyone who claims otherwise is taking the verses out of context. Fasting has always been voluntary; nobody has to fast. But certain churches do promote it. Might be a Daniel fast at the beginning of the year, a Lenten fast before Easter, an Advent fast before Christmas, a partisan fast before Election Day. But regardless of peer pressure, nobody has to fast. They’re voluntary customs. You can opt out. Don’t even need special permission from your clergy… although every year when St. Patrick’s Day falls in mid-Lent, many a Catholic who wants to get plowed will beg their bishop for a one-day pass.

The way Jesus talks in his Sermon on the Mount, he totally expects his followers to fast. Because his audience was full of Pharisees, whose custom was to fast twice a week. Jesus may not have expected them to keep fasting at that same rate—although according to the Didache, ancient Christians totally did. Didache 8.1 Either way Jesus did expect them—and us—to fast every once in a while.

Jesus himself fasted in the desert. While he was notorious for ignoring customary Pharisee fast days, he never did ban fasting. Never declared it a done-away-with custom. It’s in the Sermon on the Mount, remember? “When you fast” means you’re gonna fast. Sometimes.

If you don’t—if you never engage in any hardcore prayer practices, which is precisely what fasting is—don’t expect your relationship with God to grow as quickly as it does among Christians who do fast.

I know, I know: “But some of those ‘hardcore Christians’ are really hypocrites.” Yes they are. Jesus definitely forbids that sort of behavior. Really it’s his only rule about fasting: Don’t show off; don’t do it to look extra pious. Do it for real, and do it only for God.

Matthew 6.16-18

16“When you² fast, don’t be

like the sad-looking hypocrites who conceal their faces

so they look to people like they’re fasting.

Amen! I promise you² this

is the compensation they receive.

17You¹ who fast:

Fix your¹ hair and wash your¹ face,

18so you¹ don’t look to people like you’re¹ fasting,

except to your¹ Father in private.

And your Father, who sees what’s done in private,

will pay you¹ back {in the open}.”

“In the open” in verse 18, same as verse 4, was added to the text in the fourth century, and found in the Codex Washingtonianus and the Textus Receptus. It’s not in the oldest copies. Yet since Jesus is described as bringing us our compensation at his return, Rv 22.12 he may very well repay us in the open.

Sad to say, a lot of fasting Christians don’t follow this rule; they totally let everyone know we’re fasting. Like our families and fellow Christians. And sometimes pagans, like coworkers and waiters and anybody whom we tell, “Oh I can’t eat that; I’m on a fast.” Well aren’t you the holy one.

Jesus wants us to keep our mouths shut about this. It’s nobody’s business we’re fasting. It’s a private matter, between us and God, and that’s it. Keep it as confidential as if you just soiled your pants: Tell nobody unless you absolutely have to. Got it?

Peter writes of Jesus our rock.

1 Peter 2.1-8.

Simon bar Jonah’s nickname ܟ݂ܺܐܦ݂ܳܐ/Kifá (Greek Κηφᾶς/Kifás, “Cephas”) comes from the Syriac and Hebrew word for rock. Jesus even uses a little wordplay with it: “That thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church…” Mt 16.18 KJV The name “Peter” is from the Greek translation of his nickname, Πέτρος/Pétros, which also means rock.

Some Christians claim Peter’s name actually means “pebble.” The more common word for rock in ancient Greek is πέτρα/pétra (yes, like the Christian band), and supposedly the masculine form of this word, pétros means a small rock, while a pétra is more of a boulder-sized one. I don’t now who invented this story, but it’s rubbish; both words mean rock. Besides, Jesus spoke Syriac and gave Simon a Syriac nickname, and Kifá means rock. Jn 1.42 That’s that.

No we don’t know why Jesus gave him that name. Some Christians speculate it’s because—and only because—of Jesus’s line about building his church upon Peter. Other guesses come from all the reasons we’d name somebody “Rock,” or refer to them as “my rock”—they’re big and strong, or they’re stable individuals. Peter wasn’t all that stable when he first followed Jesus, but Christians imagine that’s just because he was young; he grew into that. Maybe so. Again, lots of speculation.

Interestingly, in today’s passage of Peter’s first letter, we see Peter write about how Jesus is his rock. And of course ours.

1 Peter 2.1-8 KWL

1So be rid of every evil,

every trick, hypocrisy, and jealousy,

every evil talk;

2crave reasonable, pure milk

like newborn infants,

so by it you² might grow into salvation,

3if you² taste that the Master is gracious.

4Come to the Master,

a valuable living stone

which was rejected by people

and elected by God,

5Like living stones yourselves²,

you’re² being built into a Spirit-led house,

into a holy priesthood

to offer Spirit-led sacrifices

received by God through Christ Jesus.

6For this reason this is in the scripture:

“Look, I put a stone in Zion,

a valuable, chosen cornerstone.

One who believes in him

ought not be ashamed.” Is 28.16

7So, value to you² who believe.

To unbelievers, “the stone the builders reject:

This becomes the foundation stone,” Ps 118.22

8and “a stumbling block,

an offending rock.” Is 8.14

𝘐𝘴 money is the root of all evil?

1 Timothy 6.9-10.

This is rather well-known out-of-context scripture. So well known in fact, your average Christian already knows it’s taken out of context, and many a pagan likewise knows better. It’s the common proverb “Money is the root of all evil,” and it’s a misquote of something Paul wrote to Timothy:

1 Timothy 6.10 KJV

For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.

It’s the love of money. Not money itself. Money is morally neutral. But loving money—especially when people love it more than God, their neighbors, their own lives and health and reputation and integrity—certainly produces evil.

Now yeah, many a Christian (especially when they’re really kinda Mammonist) read the King James Version and balk: “All evil? I don’t think every evil in the world is based on the love of money. I can think of a few evils which had nothing to do with money. Like adultery; that’s more about loving nooky.” So as a result we got other translations of the bible which won’t say all.

1 Timothy 6.10 NKJV

For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil, for which some have strayed from the faith in their greediness, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.

Notice the words “kind of” have to be grayed out (or, in other editions, in italics) because they were added to the text. The original Greek has ῥίζα γὰρ πάντων τῶν κακῶν ἐστιν ἡ φιλαργυρία/rídza gar pánton ton kakón estin i filargyría, “For the root of all the evil is money-love.”

So no, Paul didn’t say money-love is the root of many kinds of evil. He flat-out wrote it’s the root of all the evil. He didn’t make exceptions. Present-day translators are the ones inserting the exceptions into the text, and putting words in Paul’s mouth which he didn’t say. The New King James is hardly the only one.

AMPLIFIED. For the love of money [that is, the greedy desire for it and the willingness to gain it unethically] is a root of all sorts of evil…

CSV, NRSV. For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil…

ESV. For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evils.

GOOD NEWS. For the love of money is a source of all kinds of evil.

ISV, NIV, WEB For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil.

NASB. For the love of money is a root of all sorts of evil…

NLT For the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil.

Bad translators! You translate what Paul actually meant, not in a way which disguises any potential bible difficulties. No doughnut for you.

But you can kinda see why they’re trying to adjust Paul to suit their thinking, even though that’s in no way a legitimate way to translate scripture.

Okay, but let’s deal with the possible difficulty. Why would Paul say money-love is the root of all the evil in the world? Adam and Eve, fr’instance. Money wasn’t even invented yet when they ate the fruit of the forbidden tree and sinned. Their evil didn’t stem from money-love. And we know Paul was totally aware of their story, yet that’s what he wrote to Timothy. So… what’s going on here?

Creedal Christianity.

Whenever I talk about the creeds, certain Evangelicals flinch, ’cause they think creeds are a Catholic thing. No; they’re an ancient Christian thing, and therefore they’re a present-day Christian thing. Creeds existed centuries before the Roman Catholic Church did.

Creeds are faith statements. The ancient Christians were trying to sort out what was orthodox and what was heresy; what was consistent with Jesus and scripture, and what wasn’t. And once their councils sorted it out, they published their faith statement—which, in Latin, began with the word credo, “I believe.” If you believe this too, you’re orthodox; nobody’s gonna doubt whether your Christianity is authentic based on your theological beliefs. (They might still doubt it based on your fruit, which counts for more… but fleshly Christians really hope you never notice. Sad to say, may don’t.)

And churches still have faith statements. And still require their members to sign off on ’em. Not always declare “I believe…” etc.; but if you don’t believe what they do, it’s gonna create problems. So they’re still practicing a form of creedal Christianity; it just doesn’t take the very same form as the ancient creeds. But man alive, are they similar.

For one thing, most faith statements include just about everything that’s in the creeds. Usually that’s because they’re just duplicating their denomination’s faith statement… and the denomination took its faith statement from the creeds. For those churches who independently get to come up with their own faith statements, you realize the leaders of that church simply duplicated the statements of the churches they grew up in, or admire most. And if you work your way back to what inspired those churches, and the churches they imitated them, and the churches those churches imitated… yep, we’re back to the creeds again.

Face it: The creeds are pretty much at the back of all orthodox Christianity. And if they’re not—if, like many an Evangelical, you claim you got your beliefs directly out of the bible, not the creeds—okay, maybe you think you did. I certainly thought I did. Believing Jesus is both fully God and fully human is based on what the bible teaches, isn’t it?—and yes, it absolutely is. But recognizing it’s okay to believe both things simultaneously—even that we should believe both things, and try not to prioritize one over the other—ultimately stems from creedal Christianity.

More precisely: Stems from the ancient Christians who realized, “Oh, we gotta emphasize how Jesus is both, ’cause too many heretics are claiming Jesus is more one than the other, or is only one but not the other.” Who realized overemphasizing Jesus’s divinity at the cost of his humanity, or humanity at the cost of his divinity, gets him wrong. Who realized this wrongness undermines our relationship with him in a big way, so we’d better get this part right, at least.

And generations of Christians thereafter have taken up the ancient Christians’ cause. Including Christians who have no idea this cause didn’t originate with the Christians who wrote the bible, but the Christians a few centuries later who began to realize how important it is, gathered with other Christians across the civilized and uncivilized world to hash it out, and came up with the creeds.

The five horsemen.

Revelation 6.1-8.

Someone asked me about the four horsemen of Revelation 6, and I had to correct her: “Five horsemen.”

She’d always heard there were four. There are, from the looks of it, four horses, which appear when the Lamb of God opens four different seals on his book of the End. But if you’re counting men—more accurately, man-shaped figures which represent various things—there are five. Check out the text:

Revelation 6.1-8 KWL

1I see when the Lamb opens one of the seven seals.

I hear one of the four Living Beings saying,

like the sound of thunder, “Come {and see}.”

2I see. And look: A white horse,

its rider having a bow.

He’s given a leafy crown,

and the victor comes forth so he might win.

3When the Lamb opens the second seal,

I hear the second Living Being saying, “Come {and see}.”

4Another horse, a red one, comes forth.

As for the rider upon it:

It’s given to him the charge

to take peace from the land,

so they will slaughter one another.

A great machete is given to him.

5When the Lamb opens the third seal,

I hear the third Living Being saying, “Come {and see}.”

I see. And look: A black horse,

its rider having scales in his hand.

6I hear something like a voice

in the middle of the four Living Beings, saying,

“A liter of wheat is a denarius.

Three liters of barley is a denarius.

You ought not be unfair with the oil and wine.”

7When the Lamb opens the fourth seal,

I hear the fourth Living Being saying, “Come {and see}.”

8I see. And look: A gray horse.

The name of the rider upon it is Death.

Afterlife is following behind him.

Power was given to them over a quarter of the land,

to destroy with sword, famine, death,

and by the wild animals of the land.

So the five horsemen are personifications of victory, war, inflation, death, and the afterlife (Greek ᾅδης/ádis, “Hades”).

Prayer’s one prerequisite: Forgiveness.

Mark 11.25, Matthew 5.23-24, 6.14-15, 18.21-22.

Jesus tells us in the Lord’s Prayer we gotta pray, “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” (Or “Forgive us our debtors”; either way.) He elaborates on this in his Sermon on the Mount:

Matthew 6.14-15 KWL

14“For when you² forgive people their trespasses,

your² heavenly Father will also forgive you².

15When you² don’t forgive people {their trespasses},

neither will your² Father forgive your² trespasses.”

And in Mark’s variant of the same teaching:

Mark 11.25 KWL

“Whenever you² stand to pray,

forgive whatever you² have against anyone

so that your² Father who’s in the heavens

might forgive you² your² trespasses.”

Jesus elaborates on it further when Simon Peter asked him how often he has to forgive:

Matthew 18.21-22 KWL

21Then Simon Peter comes to tell Jesus,

“Master, how often will my fellow Christian sin against me,

and I’ll have to forgive them¹?

As many as seven times?

22Jesus tells him, “I don’t tell you¹ ‘as many as seven times,’

but as many as seven by seventy times.”

Followed by Jesus’s Unforgiving Debtor Story, in which a hypothetical king forgave a man who owned 260 million grams silver; the forgiven debtor then turned round and threw a man who owed him 390 grams into debtors prison; the king found this out and unforgave his debtor. Then handed him over to torturers. Mt 18.23-35

The bit about the torturers makes various Christians nervous, and some of us have invented all sorts of iffy teachings about devils and curses and hell. As if our heavenly Father plans to hand us over to torturers. No; he’s gonna do as he’s always done, and leave us to our own devices—and without his protection it’s gonna feel like torture. But fixating on the torture misses the point. God shows us infinite mercy. What kind of ingrates are we when we won’t pay his mercy forward?

The apostle Peter and the prophet Isaiah.

1 Peter 1.22-25, Isaiah 40.6-8.

Simon Peter, in his first letter, is addressing Jewish Christians (and obviously any gentiles who worship along with them) scattered throughout what’s now northern Türkiye. His first chapter mainly greets them, reminds them what Christ Jesus does for them, and in today’s passage he commends them for being good Christians—for legitimately loving one another. And throws in an Isaiah quote while he’s at it.

Here’s the passage:

1 Peter 1.22-25 KWL

22You² purified your² souls

by obeying the truth,

in brotherly love—

not insincere,

and out of a pure heart.

Fervently love one another!

23—you² who were born again,

not from corruptible seed

but incorruptible,

through God’s living, abiding word,

24 for “All flesh is like hay,

and all its glory, like a hayflower.

Hay dries.

A flower falls off.

25The Lord’s word

abides in the age to come.” Is 40.6-8

This is the word

evangelized to you² all.

And here’s the Isaiah passage Peter quotes. It comes right after the “voice in the wilderness calls out, ‘Clear the way for the LORD’” part Is 40.3-5 which John the baptist quoted. It’s a passage about the coming of God’s kingdom.

Isaiah 40.6-8 KWL

6There’s a voice saying, “Call out!”

and he says, “What am I calling out?”

“All the flesh is grass.

All its love is like a flower in the field.

7Grass withers.

A flower wilts when the LORD’s wind blows on it.

Certainly ‘grass’ describes the people.

8Grass withers and a flower wilts;

our God’s word stands, for eternity.”

There’s a little wordplay going on in Isaiah when God (who has the red-letter parts) says a flower wilts “when the LORD’s wind blows on it”—the word for wind, יְהוָ֖ה/ruákh, can also mean “spirit,” and the LORD’s Spirit is of course the Holy Spirit. The Spirit could wither a person if he so chooses, but this passage isn’t about judgment; it’s about God’s דְבַר/devár, “word,” which both the Septuagint and Peter translates as ῥῆμα/ríma, “word”—the messages he gave Moses and the prophets—standing until עוֹלָֽם/olám, the vanishing point, till we can’t see any further; basically forever.

For thine is the kingdom…

Matthew 6.13, Daniel 7.14.

At the end of the Lord’s Prayer, in both the well-known Book of Common Prayer version and the King James Version, it ends with this line:

For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory,

for ever and ever. Amen.

You’ll find other bibles don’t include it, because it’s not in the original text. In my translation I have to put it in braces, to indicate it comes from the Textus Receptus, not Matthew.

Matthew 6.13 KWL

“Don’t bring us into tribulation

but rescue us from the time of evil,

{because the kingdom, power, and glory

belong to you¹ in the age to come. Amen.}”

It comes from the Didache, an instruction manual for new Christians written in the first century. Yep, around the same time the New Testament was written. Its version of the Lord’s Prayer includes that line, whereas the oldest copies of Matthew do not. But because a lot of ancient Christians used the Didache to instruct new Christians, a lot of ’em were taught the Didache version of the Lord’s Prayer… and that last line gradually worked its way into ancient copies of Matthew. And from there into the Vulgate, the Textus, the Lutherbibel, the Geneva Bible, the Book of Common Prayer, and the King James Version.

So it’s not from the bible? No it actually is from the bible. But it’s from Daniel, not Jesus. Comes from this verse:

Daniel 7.14 KWL

The Ancient gave the Son authority,

honor, and the kingdom,

and every people, nation, and language,

who’ll bow to his authority.

His authority is permanent:

It never passes away.

His kingdom will never be destroyed.

Jesus didn’t end his prayer with “Amen,” which quickly became a Christian custom, so the authors of the Didache wanted to include it. And while they were at it, a nice worshipful closing. ’Cause the Ancient of Days is gonna grant the Son his kingdom, and authority (i.e. power), and honor (i.e. glory), forever and ever. It’s all true, so there’s nothing at all wrong with saying and praying it.

But no, Jesus didn’t tell us to say it. So it’s optional.

So if you wanna get all literalist—and a little bit legalist—fine; pray the Lord’s Prayer without the added-on line. But it’s not gonna hurt you, at all, to say it. In fact it’s a useful reminder Jesus is coming back to establish his kingdom on earth—which’ll be awesome!—and he’s gonna have authority and honor, and his kingdom is gonna last a mighty long time… and even outlast the earth itself.

And hopefully the people who prefer the Book of Common Prayer version don’t clash with the KJV fans, because the KJV only has “for ever” instead of “forever and ever.” Y’all need to make accommodations for one another, instead of demanding uniformity. We’re all saying the Lord’s Prayer here; the intent, not the translation, is what matters.

Deliver us from evil.

Matthew 6.13.

In the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus has us pray not to be led to temptation—properly, not put to the test, whether such tests tempt us or not. Instead, in contrast, we should pray we be delivered from evil.

Matthew 6.13 KJV

And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.

The original text is ἀλλὰ ῥῦσαι ἡμᾶς ἀπὸ τοῦ πονηροῦ/allá rýsë imás apó tu ponirú, “but rescue us from the evil.”

The Greek tu is what grammarians call a determiner, although I’m pretty sure your English teachers called it a definite article, ’cause that’s what English determiners usually do: This noun is a particular noun. When you refer to “the bus,” you don’t mean a bus, any ol’ generic interchangeable bus. You mean the bus, this bus, a specific bus, a definite bus. So when people translate tu ponirú, they assume the Greek determiner is a definite article: Jesus is saying, “Rescue us from the evil.” Not evil in general; not all the evil we’ll come across in life. No no no. This is a definite evil. It’s the evil.

So they figure we gotta personify it, and that’s what many recent bible translations have chosen to do.

ASV. “…but deliver us from the evil one.”

CSB, ISV, LEB, NET, NIV, WEB. “…but deliver us from the evil one.”

GNT. “…but keep us safe from the Evil One.”

ICB, NCV. “…but save us from the Evil One.”

NLT, NRSV. “…but rescue us from the evil one.”

Of course Christians figure “the evil one” would be the evilest one, i.e. Satan. So that’s kinda how we interpret the Lord’s Prayer:

Matthew 6.13 Message

“Keep us safe from ourselves and the Devil.”

We even extrapolate this backwards into the bit about temptation: The reason we gotta ask not to be led into temptation, is because Satan wants us led there, so it can hack away at us. From time to time it’s probably appearing before God himself, asking permission to crap all over us like it did Job. Tempting God himself to remove his hedge of protection from us, and let Satan have its evil, evil way with us. And no, none of this is true. Jesus isn’t talking about Satan.

Lead us not into temptation.

Matthew 6.13, Luke 11.4.

This part of the Lord’s Prayer gets controversial, because it sounds like our Lord’s brother James totally contradicted it when he wrote,

James 1.13-15 NRSVue

13No one, when tempted, should say, “I am being tempted by God”; for God cannot be tempted by evil and he himself tempts no one. 14But one is tempted by one’s own desire, being lured and enticed by it; 15then, when that desire has conceived, it engenders sin, and sin, when it is fully grown, gives birth to death.

So because James said God tempts nobody, people don’t know what to make of it when Jesus has us pray,

Matthew 6.13 NRSVue

“And do not bring us to the time of trial,

but rescue us from the evil one.”

Luke 11.4 NRSVue

“And forgive us our sins,

for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us.

And do not bring us to the time of trial.”

’Cause praying that God not lead us into temptation, implies sometimes he might lead us into temptation.

Okay. The word in the Lord’s Prayer which popularly gets translated “temptation” in both Matthew and Luke, is πειρασμόν/pirasmón, “temptation, trial, test, tribulation.” Yep, the translators got it right. It’s the noun-form of the verb James used, πειράζω/pirázo, “to tempt, try, test, tribulate.” Means the same thing.

But while James said God tempts nobody, we got various scriptures where it kinda looks like he does. Look up any Old Testament verses which include the word נָסָה/nása, which means the same thing as pirázo: Test. Try. Prove. Experiment. Tempt. Here, lemme quote just a few.

Genesis 22.1-2 NRSVue

1After these things God tested Abraham. He said to him, “Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” 2He said, “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains that I shall show you.”

Deuteronomy 8.3 NRSVue

“He humbled you by letting you hunger, then by feeding you with manna, with which neither you nor your ancestors were acquainted, in order to make you understand that one does not live by bread alone but by every word that comes from the mouth of the LORD.”

Deuteronomy 13.1-3 NRSVue

1“If prophets or those who divine by dreams appear among you and promise you omens or portents, 2and the omens or the portents declared by them take place, and they say, ‘Let us follow other gods’ (whom you have not known) ‘and let us serve them,’ 3you must not heed the words of those prophets or those who divine by dreams, for the LORD your God is testing you, to know whether you indeed love the LORD your God with all your heart and soul.”

Heck, King David ben Jesse even told God to put him to the test:

Psalm 26.2 NRSVue

Prove me, O LORD, and try me;

test my heart and mind.

Not sure whether David passed that particular test; he was a horny fella. Definitely loved God though.

Anyway. How do we deal with this particular bible difficulty? Real simple: We remember James is wisdom literature.

Is it “debts” or “trespasses”?

Matthew 6.12, Luke 11.4.

Years ago I was a member of a multi-church small group. Its members were Christians all over town, from various denominations and traditions. Most were Baptist; we met at a nondenominational Baptist church, and there are a lot of Baptists in town—and the United States, for that matter. Of course many weren’t Baptist; I’m not. But we all have the same Lord Jesus, so we tried to avoid our churches’ doctrinal hangups and focus on what unifies us in him.

Anyway one of the unifying things we did was, at the end of each meeting, we’d say the Lord’s Prayer together. We have that in common, right?

Except… well, translations. Most of us have it memorized in either the Book of Common Prayer version or the King James Version. A few know it best in the NIV or ESV, or whatever’s their favorite translation. (Or their pastor’s favorite.) But the majority know it in either the BCP or KJV.

Spot the differences.

Book of Common Prayer Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen.

Matthew 6.9-13 KJV 9BOur Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. 10Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in 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 thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.

Some of these differences go largely unnoticed: “Who art in heaven” and “Which art in heaven” is a minor difference in pronunciation, same as the “on earth” and “in earth.” There’s a bit of confusion at the end when the BCP has “for ever and ever” and the KJV only has “for ever.”

But the real hiccup is where the BCP has “trespasses” and the KJV has “debtors.”

At first you might think (’cause some have): “Well the Lord’s Prayer is also in Luke, so let’s see what word Luke used,” but that’ll just frustrate you: Luke has Jesus say,

Luke 11.4 KJV

And forgive us our sins; for we also forgive every one that is indebted to us.

So Luke gives us half a vote for “debts,” because the second part of the verse describes debtors. But it doesn’t matter what people are voting: Those who say the Book of Common Prayer version have a really strong traditional bias in favor of “trespasses,” since it’s what they’ve been praying all their lives, every time they recite the Lord’s Prayer. And those who quote the King James Version have a likewise strong traditional bias in favor of “debts,” because it’s what they’ve been praying all their lives… and I’m not gonna even get into the type of KJV worshiper who thinks the KJV is the one true bible and every other variant is satanic.

Okay. Is this minor difference of wording a big deal? Of course not. But not every Christian has the maturity to recognize this, and they wanna pick a fight. They wanna be the prayer leaders, largely so they can impose their favorite version of the Lord’s Prayer on everybody, and make everyone say “debts” or “trespasses” as they please.

And somehow they don’t notice everybody is pretty much saying whatever translation of the Lord’s Prayer they’re accustomed to saying anyway: For one second of cacophony, the BCP fans are saying “trespasses” and the KJV fans are saying “debts,” because nobody’s following the prayer leader: As usual, they’re reciting by memory.

And y’know what? That’s okay.

And y’know what else? If it’s not okay—if it’s making you nuts—go back and read the Lord’s Prayer again: “As we forgive those who trespass against us,” or “As we forgive our debtors,” or “As we forgive every one that is indebted to us.” We’re supposed to forgive the people who “say it wrong,” same as we’re supposed to forgive everyone. If you can’t do that, you’re doing it wrong.

Daily bread.

Matthew 6.11, Luke 11.3.

Whenever we read Jesus’s Sermon on the Mount, or any of his other teachings, they make way more sense when we remember his audience at the time consisted of poor people.

In the United States, “poor” usually means you live within limited means—you don’t have a lot of money. In ancient Israel, “poor” meant you had no money. Maybe you had stuff to barter; usually not. You lived from day to day, job to job, harvest to harvest, doing the best you could with what little you had. Any time you did have money, taxmen would take it away, priests and Pharisees would demand you give it to temple, or rich people would con you out of it.

When Jesus told his audience in the Lord’s Prayer, to pray for daily bread, he’s talking to people who had no pantries. Had no refrigerators. Had very little food in the house; had to go out and get it every day. No, he doesn’t literally just mean bread; he means food in general. But he encouraged his hearers to pray for that daily bread, because they daily sought bread.

Whereas in our culture, only the homeless seek daily bread like that. The rest of us have food in our houses. If I had to go two weeks without a trip to the supermarket, I easily could. I’m very blessed. So are most Americans. Whenever Jesus speaks on money, possessions, or economics, we really can’t relate to first-century Jewish mindset. Even our “poor” have wealth.

This is why so many Americans read, “Give us this day our daily bread,” and claim, “Oh Jesus doesn’t necessarily mean food. He means spiritual food. He means we’re to do the will of his Father, Jn 4.34 so we’re to ask God for the strength and power to do that.” And okay yes, Jesus does want us to follow his Father’s will, but no, this prayer isn’t about that.

Or if we’re more materialist or Mammonist, we’ll claim, “Oh Jesus doesn’t literally mean food; he means daily provision. Give us this day our weekly paycheck. And then we can pay our bills, put some into savings, and do righteous things with what’s left.” As if we do righteous things with the rest; more like buy whatever we covet. But nope, this prayer isn’t about that either.

Most of us recognize we should go to God first when we want anything, and submit to his will when he tells us yes or no. But when Jesus told us to pray for daily bread, it’s not a metaphor for our every necessity or desire. It’s about sustaining life. We need food so we can live. We need to recognize our dependence on God for our lives. So when he says pray for daily bread, pray for daily bread.

Yeah, you can pray for spiritual growth too. You can pray for money. You can ask God for anything, and he’s not stingy. But don’t go reading your various other desires into the Lord’s Prayer, and pray for those things instead of what Jesus told us to pray for. Pray for bread.

And specifically, pray for tomorrow’s bread. Because that’s a better translation of what Jesus commanded.

The “Your will be done” prayer.

Matthew 6.10.

The “Your will be done” prayer is part of the Lord’s Prayer. Obviously it’s the “Thy will be done” bit. Mt 6.10 I’ve already discussed where we’re praying for his will to be done. Today it’s more about how we fulfill that particular prayer of his. Yep, it’s about doing God’s will.

Matthew 6.10 KWL

“Make your¹ kingdom come.

Make your¹ will happen both in heaven and on earth.”

Typically when Christians pray “Your will be done,” we’re not talking about ourselves. We’re talking about everyone. “Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven,” is how the clause goes, so we’re thinking about how God’s will presumably gets done in heaven, and how God’s will oughta be done on earth… and by all humanity instead of us as individuals. When we pray it, we’re playing society, or our country, or humanity as a whole, starts obeying God’s will. We’re not always remembering we Christians really oughta do God’s will too. We’re not what’s wrong with the world; it’s them.

So yeah, when we pray the Lord’s Prayer, or just the “Your will be done” prayer, this isn’t about ourselves; it’s for everyone else. Anyone else. But we too are a part of society, our country, and humanity. So today, why don’t we step away from the idea everyone else isn’t really pulling their weight: Next time you pray, “Your will be done,” try praying it thisaway: “Your will be done by me.”

’Cause we do wanna do God’s will, right?

Well, let’s be honest, no we don’t. Not always. Not really. We wanna do our will.

We’re ready and eager to do God’s will whenever it coincides with our will. God wants us to go to church, and if we like church, cool! And if we hate church, this is a huge problem… and suddenly we’re gonna be very receptive to any Christian who tells us we might not have to go; that “the communion of saints” is an option, that you can forsake gathering together, He 10.25 and that you won’t grow undisciplined, weird, heretic, and less loving because you’ve no one to sharpen your iron. Pr 27.17 Basically we’ll just do our own thing, cling to any excuse for why God might be okay with it, and even imagine it was all his idea, if we can mentally get away with it.

So, sometimes we wanna do God’s will. Which is why we need to keep praying this prayer. We need to learn to always wanna do his will. We need God to not let us get away with weaseling out of it.

Thy kingdom come.

Matthew 6.10, Luke 11.2.

In the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus told us to ask our Father ἐλθέτω ἡ βασιλεία σου/elthéto i vasilía su, “must come, the kingdom of yours.” The literal translation is a bit Yoda-like, which is why “Your kingdom come” is how the ESV put it, and of course we all know the Book of Common Prayer and KJV translation. I still translated it myself though.

Matthew 6.10 KWL

“Make your¹ kingdom come.

Make your¹ will happen both in heaven and on earth.”

Luke 11.2 KWL

Jesus tells them, “When you² pray, say: ‘Father!

Sanctify your¹ name.

Bring your¹ kingdom.’ ”

The arrival of God’s kingdom is the gospel. It’s not John 3.16, no matter how much we love that verse. Eternal life is part of it, but the more important thing is where we spend this eternal life, and John 3.16 says nothing about that. You know the verse; you know this already. It’s why when Christians interpret the verse for other people, we tend to explain “will have everlasting life in heaven, with Jesus.” But Jesus never said that: In his second coming, he’s coming to earth to take over. God’s kingdom is gonna be here. We Christians have been laying the groundwork for it.

And doing a rotten job of it, but that stands to reason: Too many of us think the kingdom’s not here. We anticipate an otherworldly, cosmic heaven; we figure we leave this world behind to fall apart and be destroyed. The millennium isn’t part of our plans.

So why have we bothered to pray “Thy kingdom come”? Well, ’cause the words are there, so we recite them by rote, but never meditated on them any. We just presumed God’d make his kingdom come by blowing up the earth while we all watch safely from heaven, and that’s where his kingdom is. And since God’s gonna blow up the earth, why bother to care of it? This world is passing away, so it’s okay if we pollute and spoil it, ’cause God’ll make us another one.

But once we realize God’s kingdom is located here, on our planet; once we realize God’s kingdom is meant to fix everything that’s broken on our planet (’cause God’s in the business of fixing what’s broken); and once we realize the Holy Spirit’s been given to us so we can get started already on God’s plan to make all things new: It’s gonna radically transform our nihilistic attitudes towards our world. And towards the people on it, whose glimpses of the coming kingdom are gonna attract them to it far better than warnings of doom and gloom.

Hallowed be thy name.

Matthew 6.9, Luke 11.2.

In the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus told us to ask our Father to ἁγιασθήτω τὸ ὄνομά σου/ayiasthíto to ónoma su, “sanctify” or “make holy” or “hallowify” (to coin a word) “the name of yours.”

Matthew 6.9 KWL

“So pray like this yourselves²:

Our Father who’s in the heavens!

Sanctify your¹ name.”

Luke 11.2 KWL

Jesus tells them, “When you² pray, say: ‘Father!

Sanctify your¹ name.

Bring your¹ kingdom.’ ”

The Book of Common Prayer and KJV went with “Hallowed be thy name,” which means the same thing, but Christians commonly misinterpret it to mean “I sanctify your name,” or “I praise your name.” We think this is praise and worship on our part. It’s not. It’s a request for our Father to make his own name holy. For him to act.

Part of our presumption comes from a way-too-common Christian misbelief that our prayers aren’t really about asking God to do anything. Because, the attitude is, God doesn’t actually answer prayer. He sits on his heavenly arse, watches us humans stumble around, reminds us to read our bibles, but he isn’t gonna intervene in human affairs till the End Times—if they even happen in our lifetime. Besides, he’s pre-planned everything he’s gonna do, so all our after-the-fact prayers won’t change a whiff of it. So what’s the point of prayer then? Changing us—changing our attitudes about God by reciting various truths about him, like we do with our worship music, until these ideas finally sink in and transform us.

(As if this even works with worship music. Just look at all the Christian jerks who sing and listen to plenty of worship songs, but who are just awful to other people. But lemme stop here before I rant futher.)

Thanks to this mindset, Christians imagine “Hallowed be thy name” is just another reminder to think of God as holy, and his name as holy. To not take it in vain. To glorify and worship him, and tell other people how awesome and mighty he is. And because we so often misdefine holy as good, to also remember God is good. Or because we so often misdefine holy as solemn, to remember to treat God formally.

We really do botch the meaning of what Jesus is trying to teach us in this prayer, don’t we? It’s why Christians can recite the Lord’s Prayer the world over, sometimes every single day, and still not behave any more like Jesus than before.

So to remind you: Holy describes something that‘s distinctly used for divine purposes, and therefore not like anyone nor anything else. It’s unique. It’s weird. Good-weird, not weird for weirdness’ sake; not twisted, not evil-weird. When we pray for God to make his name holy, we want him to not be like any other higher power, any other mighty thing, any other force in the cosmos, any other god. We want him to stand out. ’Cause he’s not like anything or anyone else. He’s infinitely better.

Now. Does recognizing the Lord’s Prayer is about actually asking God for stuff, and that it’s not merely about changing our own attitudes, mean our attitudes don’t need to change? Of course not. If we want God to make his name holy, part of that means we need to make his name holy too. Stop treating God as if he’s just anyone else. He’s not.

And no, I absolutely do not mean we should treat him more formally, more solemnly, with more ritual and ceremony and gravitas and all that crap we do to suck up to insecure authority figures. God’s uniqueness is reflected by two things about him: He’s almighty, of course. But more importantly, more relevantly to us, his character: He’s infinitely good. Infinitely gracious. He infinitely loves us. Has infinite patience with us. He’s infinitely kind. Infinitely faithful. He’s not like anyone else because, unlike everyone else, he’ll never, ever fail us.

So don’t put him on the same level!

Our Father who art in heaven.

Matthew 6.9-10.

In Matthew’s version of the Lord’s Prayer, it begins with Πάτερ ἡμῶν ὁ ἐν τοῖς οὐρανοῖς/Páter émon o en tois úranua, “our Father who’s [located] in the heavens,” Mt 6.9 ’cause we’re addressing—duh—our heavenly Father.

Matthew 6.9 KWL

“So pray like this yourselves²:

Our Father who’s in the heavens!

Sanctify your¹ name.”

Some Christians wanna make it particularly clear which god we’re praying to. Partly because some of ’em actually think they might accidentally invoke the wrong god (and y’know, if they’re Mammonists or some other type of idolater, they might). Sometimes because they’re showing off to pagans that they worship the Father of Jesus, or some other form of playacting. But Jesus would have us keep it simple: Just address our heavenly Father. There’s no special formula for addressing him; no secret password we’ve gotta say; even “in Jesus’s name” isn’t a magic spell—and you notice “in Jesus’s name” isn’t in the Lord’s Prayer either. You know who he is; he knows who he is; he knows what our relationship consists of; that’s fine.

As I said in the Lord’s Prayer article, Jesus isn’t the first to teach people God is our Father. Many a Pharisee prayer, and many Jewish prayers nowadays, address God as אָבִינוּ/avínu, “our Father”—like Avínu Malkéinu (“our Father, our king”), recited during fasts and the high holidays. If we have a relationship with him, and we should through Jesus, we should have no hesitation to approach him boldly. He 4.16 He loves us; he wants to be gracious to us; let’s feel free to talk with him about anything and everything.

The Lord’s Prayer. Make it your prayer.

When it comes to talking with God, Christians get tongue-tied. We don’t know what to say to him! And if we follow the examples of our fellow Christians, we’re gonna get weird about him. We’ll only address him formally, or think we’re only allowed to ask for certain things—or imagine God already predetermined everything, so there’s no point in asking for anything at all.

The people of Jesus’s day had all these same hangups, which is why his students asked him how to pray, Lk 11.1 and he responded with what we Christians call the Paternoster or Our Father (after its first two words—whether Latin or English), or the Lord’s Prayer. The gospels have two versions of it, in Matthew 6.9-13 and Luke 11.2-4. But the version most English-speaking Christians are most familiar with, actually comes from neither gospel. Comes from the Church of England’s Book of Common Prayer, which is based on an ancient new-Christian instruction manual called the Didache. Goes like so.

Our Father, who art in heaven,

hallowed be thy name,

thy kingdom come,

thy will be done,

on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread.

And forgive us our trespasses,

as we forgive those who trespass against us.

And lead us not into temptation,

but deliver us from evil.

For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory,

for ever and ever. Amen.

The last two lines don’t come from the gospels, but from an idea in Daniel–

Daniel 7.14 KJV

And there was given him dominion, and glory, and a kingdom, that all people, nations, and languages, should serve him: his dominion is an everlasting dominion, which shall not pass away, and his kingdom that which shall not be destroyed.

Swap “dominion” for “power,” mix ’em up appropriately, and tack ’em to Matthew’s version of the Lord’s Prayer. The editors of the Textus Receptus liked the Didache version so much, they inserted it back into Matthew, and that’s why the King James Version has “For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.” Mt 6.13 KJV Nope, it’s not what Matthew originally wrote. But relax; the idea does come from the bible.

Bad theology: When it’s not based on revelation.

The starting point of theology is revelation, the stuff God reveals to us.

Problem is, not everybody agrees. They think the starting point is us: We have questions about God, the universe, whether we can have a relationship with God (or at least get stuff out of him), death and the afterlife, good and evil and karma, and salvation. And people figure theology is when we seek answers to these questions, and get wise-sounding answers from the smartest gurus. Or even become a guru ourselves, ’cause guruing doesn’t look all that hard.

Yep, even Christians do it. Years ago, at another church, my pastors began to invite a lot of clever guest speakers to come preach to us. These guys would regularly tell us what they think they’ve figured out about God. Some ideas were based on actual personal experiences with God—which I’m not knocking, but I wanna remind you our God-experiences need to be confirmed long before we start developing ’em into theology. These guys were not so scrupulous. They felt these God-experiences were so profound, so emotional, they didn’t bother to ask the usual questions we oughta pose when such things happen. “God showed me,” they figured; they believed it, and that settles it.

Me, I know enough bible to seriously doubt God showed them a thing.

Problem is, most Christians don’t. And when they have their own God-experiences, they do the same thing as these preachers: They never have ’em properly confirmed. They’re so sure their personal insights are revelations; they certainly feel like revelations! And when someone else stands up, claims to have an insight, and present ’em with something which feels right to them… well, they had religion questions, here’s someone who purports to have answers, and the answers sound like stuff they oughta believe. Stuff they wanna believe. So they do.

But is this because the Holy Spirit tells ’em, “Yep, that came from me,” or because their flesh tells ’em, “Oh that sounds so much easier than holiness”? And should we really trust our inner impulses, urges, and desires when it comes to theological ideas? Most of us are pretty darned selfish, and that’s the deciding factor in our lives, not the Spirit. That’s what makes us feel these ideas are correct, not a lifestyle of actively following Jesus. We might imagine it’s the Spirit, but we still don’t know the difference between him, and the way the surprise ending of a clever mystery novel makes us feel.

So that’s how we practice bad theology: We’re not getting it from revelation, and therefore not getting it from God.

Do you know your bible quotes?

Generally if you’re gonna call yourself biblically literate, you oughta at least know these quotes from the bible. Probably already do; you just didn’t realize they were from the bible.

ALL HAVE SINNED AND FALL SHORT OF THE GLORY OF GOD. Or “come short” in the KJV. Comes from Romans 3.23, and means nobody measures up to God’s reasonable standard of perfection. But God graciously forgives us and grants eternal life. Ro 6.23

ALL THINGS TO ALL PEOPLE. Or “all men” (KJV): Paul’s claim he adapted his circumstances so he can find common ground with everyone, and share Christ with them. 1Co 9.22 Y’know, “when in Rome.” Certain Christians are quick to point out Paul didn’t compromise his beliefs or behavior in so doing.

ALL THINGS WORK TOGETHER FOR GOOD. In context, “to them that love God, to them who are called according to his purpose.” Ro 8.28 Various Christians pull it out of context and claim everything always turns out for the best. I remind ’em to read Ecclesiastes sometime.

ALL WE, LIKE SHEEP, HAVE GONE ASTRAY. Isaiah’s warning to his people: They turned away from God, like sheep who disregard their shepherd. Is 53.6

AM I MY BROTHER’S KEEPER? Cain’s excuse to God for not knowing where Abel was, Ge 4.9 though in fact he just murdered him. The phrase gets used to claim we’re not responsible for one other. In reality we often are.

ASK AND IT’LL BE GIVEN YOU. Jesus’s teaching that the Father wants to give good gifts to his kids. Mt 7.7

BE FRUITFUL AND MULTIPLY. God’s directives to the animals after he first created them. Ge 1.22 Including to the first humans. Ge 1.28

BE SURE YOUR SIN WILL FIND YOU OUT. Moses’s warning to two Israeli tribes who promised they’d fight the Amorites alongside the other 11; that if they broke their promise they’d get caught. Nu 32.23 Christians sometimes use this verse to claim every sin eventually gets found out. And many do… and some don’t.

BEAT THEIR SWORDS INTO PLOWSHARES. A prophecy about future peace—or not—found in multiple books of the prophets. Is 2.4, Mc 4.3, Jl 3.10

Don’t let God’s foreknowledge weird you out about prayer!

Matthew 6.8.

Jesus instructs his followers to not pad our prayers, to not stretch ’em out like pagans who think God won’t take ’em seriously unless they pray for a really long time. And then, in his Sermon on the Mount, he drops this comment about why it’s unnecessary: God’s foreknowledge.

Matthew 6.8 KWL

“So you² ought not be like them!

For your² Father knew what need you² have

before your² asking of him.”

In the New Testament, foreknow is our usual translation of the verb προγινώσκω/pro-yinósko, “pre-know.” Ro 8.29, 11.2 Paul used it to describe how God knows something before it happens. It doesn’t say how he knows it’ll happen, which is why Christians have largely come up with two theories about it:

• Determinists claim it’s because God decreed this stuff will happen. The universe is all irresistibly going according to his plan, and that’s the future he planned.
• The rest of us figure God is omnipresent—he exists at every point in space and time; there’s no place nor time where he’s not—so he knows the future because he’s at the future, observing it right now.

I figure the scriptures are the most consistent with omnipresence, so that’s how I describe God.

Various Christians incorrectly describe God as outside time, looking down upon it all at once. They got the idea from St. Augustine of Hippo, who most likely borrowed it from how Plato of Athens described his pagan gods. But that’d make God not omnipresent: He wouldn’t be everywhere within space and time, but somewhere else. So that’d be wrong. Space and time are the same thing anyway: God’s inside time and fills time, same as he does space. He’s here, aware of what’s going on. And 20 years ago, still here, still aware. And 20 years from now, still here, still aware. Simultaneously.

That’s a mind-bending idea to us Christians. Even us Christians who love to watch science fiction TV and movies where they monkey with time travel for fun and adventure. We’re time-based creatures, so we only experience now, the moving present instant. And even when we’re consciously aware, paying attention to now… we actually aren’t. ’Cause in the split second of time our senses require to take in the world around us, and our brains require to process it, and attach emotions and ideas and values to it… that instant is over. It’s past. We’re reacting to a memory. We move through time just that quick.

Whereas God doesn’t move. He’s still in that moment. And in every moment we also consider “now,” whenever we perceive it: The moment I write this, or the moment you read it. And all the moments before, and all the moments to come. Forever, in both directions.

That’s how God foreknows the future. From our human viewpoint the future doesn’t yet exist; from God’s, he’s looking right at it, and it’s a certainty to him. Because of this, we Christians can be confident everything God says about the future is guaranteed. He’s not making the universe’s greatest-educated guess; he’s not describing stuff that doesn’t exist to him either, but he has the almighty power to unstoppably make it happen, like the determinists and Open Theists insist. God’s speaking from experience—or to coin a word, foresperience. He foresees it, so he foreknows it. It’s real. Well, fore-real.

So we can confidently put our hope in God. Jesus is returning. We are getting raised from the dead. All things are gonna be made new. We are gonna inherit his kingdom. None of this is hypothetical. God’s already there.

And this is why Jesus can say his Father knows our needs before we ask. It’s not just because he’s always been able to read our hearts, so he knows our needs and desires before we request ’em. It’s also because he foresaw us praying for them. And in many cases, he’s answered them before we requested ’em.

The meaningless lifestyle of heritage.

1 Peter 1.17-21.

One of the odd things about Christianity is we’re meant to follow Jesus… but nearly every Christian, and nearly all our churches, act like we’re meant to follow Christian tradition.

I’m not knocking Christian tradition… well okay, I’m not knocking certain Christian traditions. There’s a whole lot of good stuff we’ve been given by previous generations of devout followers of Jesus. They made an effort to get to know our Lord, taught a lot of useful lessons, and gave us a lot of practical stuff we can use so we can get to know our Lord. Why reinvent the wheel when we pretty much have a forest of wheels available?

But of course too many Christians would have us fixate on the stuff instead of Jesus himself. Because we can manipulate the stuff. But Jesus doesn’t bend.

The ancients had a similar problem: Lots of traditions they inherited from their forebears. You had Pharisees, the devout Jews who established synagogues wherever they could throughout the Roman Empire—which the apostles regularly visited so they could tell the Jews about their Messiah, Jesus, and how his kingdom has come near. You also had Greco-Roman pagans (or in Africa, Greco-Egyptian pagans) who had their own national myths, which claimed they were a great people with great gods, and you’d better follow those gods lest they be displeased.

You have all these people-groups with all these great heritages. And Jesus disrupts all of that, and tells us nope; now we’re his people. Ditch that ethnic pride; his kingdom is multiethnic and excludes no one. Ditch that “noble history” …which, let’s be honest, consists of a lot of fabrications, mythology, and whitewashing. (True, the Old Testament tells ancient Israel’s story, warts ’n all, but if you ever read Flavius Josephus’s Antiquities, you can see a bunch of that whitewashing right there. Every ancient culture did that. And if you read any grade-school American history textbook, you’ll see we totally do it too.)

Simon Peter calls all that stuff ματαίας/mataías, “empty, profitless, meaningless.” That’s what the ancient Christians left behind. Rightly so! We’re not trying to establish a new great people, a mighty Christian nation, which needs its own traditions and myths and heritage. We point to Jesus. We just live out our lives as best we can, scattered throughout the kingdoms of this world like Diaspora Jews, and let him worry about empire-building. We just follow him.

And we beware anyone who tries to establish any “Christian kingdom” in which Jesus is not physically standing upon the earth to rule it himself.

1 Peter 1.17-21 KWL

17And if you² call upon the Father,

who impartially judges each person by their work,

behave yourselves² with reverent fear

during the time of your² sojourn—

18knowing it’s not the perishable,

not silver nor gold,

by which you² were ransomed

from your² meaningless lifestyle of “heritage,”

19but precious blood,

like an unblemished lamb;

and spotless Christ.

20Foreknown even before the world’s founding,

and made known in the last times

because of you²—

21because of believers in God,

who raised Jesus from the dead

and gives him glory

so your² belief and hope are to be in God.

Pan-millennialists: “It’ll all pan out in the End.”

Back in seminary, the school catalog listed an End Times class. I was really interested in taking it—for the obvious reason that I wanted to understand the End Times apocalypses better.

But in the three years I spent there, none of the professors ever bothered to teach it. So I had to research it myself. Borrowed a big pile of books from a guy in my church who’d gone to a different seminary—books which, thankfully, didn’t only come from one End Times worldview. Too many people who “study” the End Times are happy to buy every Hal Lindsey book, read nothing else (including the book of Revelation!), and consider themselves an expert.

Years later I discovered why the professors avoided that End Times class: I taught a Sunday school class at my church on the book of Revelation. Good Lord. It was like herding cats. Nobody wanted to study the text! They just wanted to talk about what they were “discerning” in the present-day news: This or that was happening in global politics, and it’s a sign of the times! Most had grown up reading the Hal Lindsey stuff, and simply could not bring themselves to stop quoting his theories about how the End Times timeline would unfold. I ended the class after we finally got through Jesus’s letters to the seven churches; Rv 2-3 I was so tired of listening to the small group’s members interrupting to talk about crackpottery.

Hey, End Times stuff provokes people! Especially fearful people, who are terrified the great tribulation is gonna get activated by their political opponents, and force ’em into building an End Times bunker and hiding. Not all of ’em fully trust that Jesus will rapture them before tribulation starts. (Nor should they.) So they listen to the most worried prognostications of popular End Times “prophecy scholars” so they can be prepared for every eventuality. Knowledge is power, right?

But then there are the people who don’t wanna study this stuff.

Who roll their eyes every time End Times passages get quoted or referenced or alluded to. Who intentionally skip church services when they find out the preacher’s gonna talk about Revelation or the back half of Daniel. Who think Hal Lindsey’s a fearmongering charlatan. (And not just because Hal Lindsey was very much a fearmongering charlatan.)

Ask these people whether the Christian Era is gonna end and Jesus is gonna return, and for the most part they’re gonna say yes. Because he is; it’s orthodox, credal Christianity to believe so, and they’re not heretics. They do believe Jesus is returning for the living and the dead. It’s just… whenever Christians discuss the End Times, fearful Christians take over the discussion, exactly like they took over my Revelation class, and suck all the joy and hope and grace out of it with their paranoia and revenge fantasies. They make it suck.

So what do these people believe about the End? Well they accept God’s in control… so it’ll all pan out.

More than one of them have jokingly told me they’re “pan-millennialists” for this reason. The End will happen when it happens, however it happens. Till it does, they’re not gonna fret about it. Some of ’em like to quote Jesus on the subject:

Acts 1.6-7 CSB

6So when they had come together, they asked him, “Lord, are you restoring the kingdom to Israel at this time?”

7He said to them, “It is not for you to know times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority.”

Jesus’s apostles figured now that Jesus had returned from the dead, it’s time for the End, right? Everybody gets resurrected at the End, and Jesus is the first person to get resurrected, so it’s the End, isn’t it? Messiah would free Israel from the Romans and take over the world, so it’s the millennium, right?

And Jesus’s response was, “You don’t need to know when that’ll happen,” then get raptured. Ac 1.9 He’s coming back, Ac 1.11 but still: You don’t need to know when that’ll happen.

So these folks don’t worry about it. The End will come when God decides it’s time. The End will unfold however God unfolds it. We needn’t panic, worry, agitate, or flinch at “signs of the times.” We just need to keep following Jesus.