“Why are you permitting blatant immorality?”

1 Corinthians 5.

Today’s passage is a whole chapter. It’s short, but yep, it’s a chapter.

It’s a little controversial among certain Christians—for the very same reason Paul and Sosthenes had to write it to the Corinthians. It has to do with sexual misbehavior in Corinth’s church, which Paul felt had gone beyond the pale—but the Corinthians were tolerating it, ’cause grace. And nuh-uh; that’s not how grace works.

I’ll start with where the apostles set up the scenario.

1 Corinthians 5.1-5 KWL

1Unchastity among you²

is getting reported everywhere—

the kind of unchastity

which isn’t even approved by gentiles—

with a man having his father’s woman.

2You² people are arrogant;

and don’t, more appropriately, mourn,

about how you² should remove from among you²

the one doing this work?

3For I, though absent in the body,

being present in spirit,

like one who’s present,

have already condemned this behavior.

4In the name of our master, Christ Jesus,

when you² are gathered together with my spirit,

in the power of our master Jesus,

5hand over such a person to Satan

for the flesh’s destruction,

so the spirit might be saved

on the Lord Jesus’s day.

I translate the word πορνεία/porneía as “unchastity,” because that’s precisely what it means. Chastity means appropriate sexual activity; porneía is the opposite. Yes, people tend to define chastity to mean celibacy—no sexual activity at all—and that’s inaccurate. If you’re a clergy member who took a vow of celibacy, as some have, that’s what chastity means for you—you gotta keep your vows! But for every other Christian, chastity just means monogamy. You and your partner only have sex with one another, and don’t deprive one another, yet don’t make your partner do anything they consider immoral or don’t want. (It’s about loving one another, not personal gratification.)

Chastity also means you can’t just partner up with anyone, like promiscuous people will. Stay away from people who don’t or won’t or can’t love you. Stay away from people who demand you prioritize them over Jesus. And of course, avoid someone who already has a partner; and no close family members, whether by blood, marriage, or adoption.

Anyway if you know the myth of Oedipus of Thebes—and of course the Corinthians knew it, ’cause Thebes was a longtime ally, and only 85km away—you’ll know it’s an icky story. The king of Thebes had a son; his son was prophesied to kill his father and marry his mother; the king was horrified and had the baby abandoned in the woods. Except the shepherd who was supposed to abandon him, didn’t. Oedipus was adopted by a different royal family, fled from them as soon as he learned the prophecy… and happened upon his birth parents, and unwittingly fulfilled the prophecy. And the gods cursed Thebes with a plague because of it—because even pagans thought that was nasty.

Yet here it was, happening right there in the Corinthian church. And the Corinthians were letting it happen.

The Johnson amendment, and preaching the wrong kingdom.

Despite the name, the National Religous Broadcasters isn’t just national, isn’t just religious, and isn’t just broadcasters. (It was founded in 1944, but it kept the original name.) It’s international now; it’s exclusively Christian; and of course in the internet age you gotta allow for more than just radio and TV broadcasts. It was founded in part to fight the Federal Council of Churches’ 1943 takeover of the religious programming of radio networks; nowadays it’s more of a support group for Evangelical media creators.

I bring ’em up because they’re suing the Internal Revenue Service, the tax-gathering agency of the U.S. federal government. Their argument is the IRS is inconsistently applying the Johnson Amendment to non-profits, and should just do away with it altogether.

Yeah, I’d better explain in more detail for people who aren’t familiar with any of that.

In the United States we have a Constitutional right to freedom of religion. And to keep the Feds and states from hassling churches by taxing their finances, churches are encouraged to become tax-free nonprofit organizations. We call them 501(c)(3) organizations, named for the specific subsection of Title 26 of the United States Code which defines ’em. For your convenience, I’ll quote it. Warning: Legalese.

Corporations, and any community chest, fund, or foundation, organized and operated exclusively for religious, charitable, scientific, testing for public safety, literary, or educational purposes, or to foster national or international amateur sports competition (but only if no part of its activities involve the provision of athletic facilities or equipment), or for the prevention of cruelty to children or animals, no part of the net earnings of which inures to the benefit of any private shareholder or individual, no substantial part of the activities of which is carrying on propaganda, or otherwise attempting, to influence legislation (except as otherwise provided in subsection (h)), and which does not participate in, or intervene in (including the publishing or distributing of statements), any political campaign on behalf of (or in opposition to) any candidate for public office. 26 USC §501(c)(3)

In simpler English:

1. None of your org’s incoming money should be controlled by, or benefit, one individual. Like the head pastor. Your church shouldn’t be merely a promotional tool to help your pastor get speaking engagements and sell books and videos. Nor should it spend all its money enriching your pastors, yet do little to no ministry.
2. The church shouldn’t spend “a substantial part” of its money (and other laws define how big is “substantial”) on pushing its politics: Promoting causes or lobbying government.
3. The church can’t promote a political candidate or campaign.

The Johnson amendment is the “which does not participate in, or intervene in… any political campaign,” etc. It’s named after Lyndon Johnson, who was still a senator when he got it passed in 1954. It applies to every 501(c)(3) nonprofit; not just churches. It wasn’t controversial when it was first passed, because back in the ’50s most pastors recognized politics is a dirty business, and didn’t wanna soil themselves in it.

But not anymore! Back in February, the NRB even had former president and current presidential candidate Donald Trump speak at their annual convention. He’s offering to overturn that pesky Johnson amendment if only they’d return him to power. “All these things will I give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me,” he told them. Mt 4.9 Or something like that.

The NRB hasn’t officially endorsed Trump, but you know they wanna. Well, they’re trying to get rid of the amendment; if they succeed, they certainly can.

And lots of partisan pastors and churches would love to promote political candidates right from the pulpit. Would love to denounce the opposition party and its politicans, and call ’em tools of Satan. Would love to sway their entire congregations to vote their way. Some of ’em do it anyway, willingly risking their nonprofit status, figuring the IRS might not do anything if the people of their congregation never tell on ’em. Others have voluntarily given up their nonprofit status, pay taxes, say whatever they please, and roll around in politics like pigs in poo.

Patriarchy: When fathers ruled the earth.

PATRIARCHY 'peɪ.tri.ɑrk.i noun. System of governance in which the father, or eldest male, is ruler.

2. System wherein women are largely excluded from positions of authority.

[Patriarchal 'peɪ.tri.ɑr.kəl adjective.]

When people talk about patriarchy nowadays, they tend to mean the second definition above: The system is rigged in such a way that women can’t find their way into any official or significant positions of leadership. There is no way into it. At most they can have unofficial power, like a First Lady; they can have insignificant power, like being in charge of cleaning the break room. (Gee, what an honor.) But never any serious authority. The “old boys’ network” keeps shutting them out.

Obviously because the “old boys” don’t wanna work with women. Especially don’t wanna work for women. Doesn’t matter the reasons; they’re all different forms of sexism. It’s a way-too-common problem in the present day. But actually sexism isn’t what this article is about. (Not primarily. Sexism doesn’t have to be part of patriarchy. But it nearly always is.)

What I’m writing about is the first definition: The government we see among the early Hebrews, in the families of Noah, Abraham, and Jacob before the Law was handed down; and to a lesser degree the system we see in families thereafter. Before there were judges and kings, before there were cities and nations and empires, before there was anything, there were families. The families were led and ruled by the father or eldest male: The patriarch.

Now, we Americans grew up under democracy. When we’re in a situation where there’s no leadership, we often figure, “Okay, we’ll take a vote.” All of us are equal, so the majority should rule, right? If one of us tries to assume power, we object, ’cause that’s not fair. But that’s because we were raised to be democratic. The ancients weren’t. Popular vote didn’t rule the day; the strongest or loudest or most dangerous did. This is Darwinism at its simplest.

The one best able to strike down his foes dwas usually the physically strongest; the man. And in order to maintain power, patriarchy was the system these men put into place. The man, the father of the family, the paterfamilias, ruled. They taught their kids this was the way things worked. So whereas our culture falls back on democracy to decide things, theirs fell back on patriarchy.

It wasn’t egalitarian; spouses got no equal say. Wasn’t democratic, where the kids got a vote too. It was a dictatorship. What the patriarch decided, was how things were. No one to overrule him, no constitution to say he violated civil rights, no legislature to control his behavior, no police to stop him. If he decided he was taking a second or third or hundredth wife, he did. If he forbade his daughter from marrying a certain man, she had to obey. If he ordered his son put to death for disobedience, off with his head. Seriously.

And there are a number of Christians who read about these “good old days” in the bible, and wouldn’t mind returning to them. Oh, I’ll get to those guys.

The Revised Version, and the American Standard Version.

In my article about other English-language bibles in the 1600s and 1700s, I mentioned how your average King James Version fan isn’t aware there even were other bible translations back then. They think John Wycliffe translated it first; then it was followed up by a bunch of really bad translations; then King James ordered a proper translation and that’s the KJV. They know nothing about the Geneva Bible. Nor any of the other translations which followed. They just presume once the KJV was translated, absolutely everyone used it. (Except Catholics. And heretics.)

Of course there are dozens of English-language translations today. So some years ago I asked my bible class whether they knew what the next popular English-language bible after the KJV was. Most said, “Um… the NIV?” Nope, not the 1978 New International Version. But I’ve since found lots of people give the NIV as their answer.

I grew up in the ’70s, so I remember we had a lot of translations to choose from back then. Mom had a parallel bible, which came in handy whenever the KJV was hard to understand; it had the KJV in one column, the 1969 Modern Language Bible in another, the 1971 Living Bible in another, and the 1952 Revised Standard Version in another. My first bible was a KJV, but I later got a 1976 Good News Bible. And I remember coming across the 1971 New American Standard Bible, the 1966 Jerusalem Bible, and J.B. Phillips’ 1958 The New Testament in Modern English. No doubt some of you can think of others.

Some of the folks in my class remembered the NASB, and I asked them whether they recalled an old American Standard Bible. None of ’em really did. But that’s the one I’m gonna write about today—and its immediate predecessor, the 1885 Revised Version. (RV for short. Sometimes it’s called the English Revised Version, or ERV, but nah, I’m not gonna call it that.)

What’d it revise? The King James Version.

(Why didn’t they therefore call it the New King James Version? Well in the Church of England, they tend to call it the Authorized Version instead of the KJV; and it was the official bible of the church, so they simply called it the Revised Version… leaving NKJV up for grabs a century later.)

The convocation of Canterbury is one of the regular general assemblies of the Church of England. On 6 May 1870 the convocation created a committee to revise the King James Version. The goal was “to adapt King James’ version to the present state of the English language without changing the idiom and the vocabulary,” and update it to “the present standard of biblical scholarship.”

Why then? Well, archaeology had recently been invented—and by “recently” I mean in the past 25 years or so. Rather than dig through ruins and graves looking for treasures, anthropologists were looking for data, information about how people used to live. Great advances had been made in interpreting unfamiliar ancient langauges. And Christian anthropologists went looking for ancient copies of the bible—and found many.

Much more had therefore been discovered about the first century’s culture and practices, and methods of Greek translation. And when bible scholars compared the newly-discovered bible manuscripts to the the Majority Text and Textus Receptus, they immediately saw the defects of those medieval bibles: Why on earth were they using a bible translation based on a Greek New Testament that was a compliation of every textual variant its editors could find? Why wasn’t it, properly, based on the oldest copies of the scriptures there are?—which they had in their very own British Museum.

And since the Church of England listened to its scholars (heck, made bishops of them), once enough of ’em decided it was time to revise the King James Version, they did.

The “𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘣𝘴 31 woman.”

PROVERBS 31 WOMAN 'prɑ.vərbz 'θɜr.di 'wʌn 'wʊ.mən noun. A productive woman, like the ideal wife described in Proverbs 31.

2. A compliment offered to a valued wife. (Whether or not she matches the woman of Proverbs 31.)

Among many Christians, the ultimate compliment you can pay your wife is to call her a “Proverbs 31 woman.”

Properly, it means she meets the bible’s standard for an ideal wife. (More specifically, Lemuel’s mother’s standard; more about Lemuel and his mom in a bit.) And since people don’t bother to read their bibles, Christians included, they really just mean she’s a good Christian. Whether she’s anything like the Proverbs 31 passage is a whole other deal.

Yeah, I’ll quote the passage. It’s not the whole of the chapter; it’s just this bit.

Proverbs 31.10-31 KWL

10A capable woman! Who’s found one?

She‘s worth far more than rubies.

11Her husband’s heart trusts her,

and he has no shortage of loot.

12 She pays him back with good, not evil, all her life’s days.

13She asks for wool and flax.

She’s happy to work with her hands.

14She’s like a merchant ship:

She imports food.

15She rises when it’s still night.

She provides meat for her house and her employees.

16She organizes a field.

She plants a vineyard with the fruit of her hands.

17She belts herself with strength.

She makes her arms strong.

18She tastes her merchandise to make sure it’s good.

Her lamp isn’t put out at night.

19She puts her hands on the spindle.

Her palms hold the distaff.

20Her palms spread for the humble.

Her hands reach out to the needy.

21She doesn’t fear snow for her household:

All her house are warmly clothed in red.

22She knits herself tapestries.

Her clothing is purple.

23Her husband is recognized at the city gates.

He sits with the land’s elders.

24She makes and sells tunics.

She gives belts to Canaanites.

25Her clothing is strength and honor.

She will relax in days to come.

26Her mouth is opened in wisdom.

The Law of kindness is on her tongue.

27She watches the goings-on of her house.

She doesn’t eat bread idly.

28Her children rise and call her happy.

Her husband praises her:

29“Many daughters do well,

but you surpass all of them!”

30Grace can be false.

Loveliness is useless.

A woman who respects the LORD will be praised.

31Give her back the fruit of her hands,

and her deeds will praise her in the city gates.

Check it out. Only once does her devotion to God come up; in verse 30. But no doubt her good deeds are the result of loving God and wanting to excel for his sake. Even so, the bulk of this passage is about the fact this woman works. Works hard. Gets stuff done, and does it well.

When our heroes stumble. Or sin. Or sin big-time.

Had to resist the temptation to title this article, “There goes my hero; watch him as he goes.” You’ll see why.

This week I came across two cases of a person—a person many people greatly admire—failing. One’s Christian; one’s pagan. I admit I wouldn’t’ve seen any connection between the two, except I read an article about the pagan that just sounded… well, startlingly familiar.

Starting with the pagan, ’cause I read about him first. I don’t expect all my readers to know who rock star Dave Grohl is. You might’ve heard of his first band, Nirvana; you might’ve heard of his current band, Foo Fighters. Both bands have been very successful. I still listen to their music. (No, you don’t have to if you don’t wanna.) Grohl announced recently that, once again, he’s gonna be a father. Mazel tov!… except it turns out the mother of his new baby isn’t his wife, and he’s filing for divorce from said wife, and his adult kids have turned off their social media accounts because they don’t wanna deal with his upset fans. I don’t blame ’em.

Yes, his fans are upset. Grohl has a reputation as a family man. Unlike most rock stars, who leave the wife and kids at home, go on the road, and partly like… well, obviously rock stars, Grohl and his bandmates deliberately brought their families with them. Hey, they’re rich; why not? For that matter why don’t other rock stars?—other than the obvious reasons of road-trip infidelity. But Grohl kinda showcased the fact the band’s families were traveling with them, and even had his kids come on stage and play along. Fun to watch! So his fans grew used to thinking of Grohl as a good guy and loyal husband.

And maybe he was loyal. I don’t really know him; neither do his fans, no matter what they might imagine. For all we know he might’ve separated from his wife years ago, and just kept it private. Or he might’ve cheated on her constantly. I’ve no idea.

Either way, I’m not gonna judge Grohl. I have no business doing any such thing. Maybe he has legit reasons for what happened, but even if they aren’t—to me anyway—he’s not Christian! He doesn’t answer to Jesus; he certainly doesn’t answer to me. If he wants to end things with his wife and be with someone else, he can. Society will judge him for it, and society doesn’t do grace, so that sucks. (Then again too many Christians don’t do grace either. But that’s another rant.)

When I first heard this news (’cause this made the news; I didn’t read it on any gossip blog) my knee-jerk reaction was, “Aw, that’s too bad.” Divorce sucks.

But then I read a certain article on an entertainment website.

Sin kills. God offers life. (Ro 6.23)

Romans 6.23 KJV

For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Whenever we Christians are encouraged to memorize verses, the verses typically fall into three categories:

• Verses which explain our salvation. They help us understand it better—plus we can use ’em to share Jesus with others!
• Verses which help us improve our behavior. Like teachings of Jesus, the prophets, and the apostles; stuff that reminds us what the right thing is, and to do it.
• Verses which make us feel warm and fuzzy inside, ’cause God loves us and offers us his kingdom. (Or, all too often, make us feel good and self-righteous for less legitimate reasons. Like God approving of us no matter what awful stuff we’ve gotten into. Or he’s gonna give us wealth, or smite our enemies, or supports our politics, or other ungodly stuff.)

Today’s memory verse kinda does all three. It comes at the end of Paul’s larger discussion about goodness. In the past, pagan Romans used to do as they pleased, and usually that meant sinning their brains in. Now that these particular Romans are Christians, they mustn’t be like that anymore. And it applies just the same to Christians today: Before we came to Jesus, we likewise lived like pagans. But Jesus expects better of us.

Why leave your church?

At some point, Christians might have to switch churches.

It happens! Happened to me more than once. I move to new cities from time to time, for work or school; that’s an obvious reason right there. Said goodbye to the folks of my previous church; it was sad. Then off I went to the new city, to find a new one.

Happened to me again recently: The church building was ruined, so the entire church—pastor, board members, everybody—started going to one of our sister churches in town. And that’s where I am now.

Christians switch churches for all sorts of reasons. Some good, some bad. Some valid, some not. I’ll give you some examples.

GOOD REASONS	BAD REASONS	IFFY REASONS
God personally tells you to go elsewhere. They kicked you out. Church leaders aren’t trustworthy. Sinning, abusive, fruitless, jerklike, and unrepentant. Or they’re just not doing their jobs, and won’t let anyone help. Church members aren’t trustworthy either, and the leadership does nothing about it. They’re dark Christians: Everything they do is driven by fear, worry, and anger. Not love. They’re too legalistic, demanding, judgmental… and if you don’t obey or conform, they have penalties. (Yep, they’re a cult.) Your spouse has had enough of that church, now goes elsewhere, and isn’t coming back. Period. You’re getting a job at another church. You’re moving to another city. Or the church moves to another city. Some disaster destroys the church.	You don’t get along with somebody there. They’re not cool anymore. Or cool enough. They won’t let you lead, or otherwise get your way. Meh; church is optional. Sleep, sports, recreation—even doing nothing at all—feel like better options than going anymore. They’re not partisan enough. You’ve burned way too many bridges there. Time for a fresh start! They denounce sin—particularly the sins you commit. Whatever happened to “judge not”? They want you to give ’em money all the time. Shouldn’t church be free? They won’t let you lead, won’t put you in charge of stuff, won’t otherwise let you get your way.	You don’t like their liturgical style, preaching style, or music. You want a bigger/smaller church. Your kids don’t like it there, and don’t wanna go. You’re “not getting fed.” Or “not feeling the Spirit.” Or are otherwise bored. You visited another church, and they felt far more right for you. You want a bigger church, with more programs and resources. You want a smaller church, ’cause you feel lost in the big crowd. There’s a radical change in mission, emphasis, focus, or denomination—and you can’t get behind it.

You can probably think of more reasons than these.

You might take issue with some of the things I listed. I’ve known more than one partisan Christian who’s insistent their church really oughta start talking politics! Particularly their politics. And if it doesn’t, it’s somehow supporting “the kingdom of this world” over and against “the kingdom of God.” Supposedly when Jesus overthrows all the governments of the world at his second coming, he’s gonna make an exception for their party. But partisans regularly, naïvely confuse their parties with Jesus, and would absolutely place politics in the “good reasons” column. I won’t.

Likewise I’ve known Christians who insist stylistic choices don’t matter at all. Doesn’t matter if you hate the music, or can’t stand the preaching, or the kids absolutely hate the youth group kids and youth pastor and would rather be anywhere else: That’s your church, and you stay there, no matter what. Even if you’re completely miserable there: It’s where God put you, and apparently God’s a giant sadist… except he’s not. At all. What’re you doing in a church which makes you miserable? Earning karma points for suffering? Leave!

And likewise I’ve known Christians who don’t want people to make lists like this. How dare we judge and critique churches? They’re meant to judge us, not the other way round. Which is an attitude I obviously don’t share whatsoever.

Figuring out what God wants.

“I just wanna go God’s will for my life.” I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard kids and new Christians say this.

They hear it preached all the time: “God has a wonderful plan for your life! Just seek his face.” So… they try. They pray. They worship. ’Cause that’s what popular Christian culture tells them “seeking God’s face” consists of: Prayer and worship. And yeah, these two things do in fact “seek his face.” But for newbies, these activites are not actually gonna help ’em learn what God’s will is.

And you’re gonna find a lot of newbies—and a lot of longtime Christians!—have given up on the idea God’s plan is even knowable. Some of ’em even claim God’s plan deliberately isn’t knowable; it’s a secret. God has a secret will for your life—and for that matter, the whole universe, which he’s micromanaged all the way down to every single atom. He keeps it a secret because—let’s face it—there’s no way we can fathom it in all its complexity. God is thinking a trillion steps ahead. If he clued us in, just a little, it’d blow our minds.

(Or, which is more likely, we’d respond like a backseat driver: “You know what you oughta do, God, is this…” and try to steer the Almigthy in the direction we want, instead of the direction he wants. But since we only have the smallest fraction of knowledge about the infinite cosmos, we’re really in no position to judge how God rules things.

“It’s way beyond me,” these Christians’ll say, like the TobyMac song goes. And true, the song’s about how God stretches us beyond where we’re comfortable… but too many Christians use this “way beyond me” idea as an excuse to become know-nothings, who don’t seek God’s face because God-knowledge might be too hard for us. It’s rubbish—and honestly, for a lot of people, it’s pure hypocrisy. ’Cause knowing God’s will for our lives might, just might, mean we have to change. And they don’t wanna change.

But the scriptures teach us to change.

Romans 12.1-2 CSB

1Therefore, brothers and sisters, in view of the mercies of God, I urge you to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God; this is your true worship. 2Do not be conformed to this age, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may discern what is the good, pleasing, and perfect will of God.

If learning God’s will—God’s perfect will—isn’t possible, why would Paul advise the Romans to do it?

Nope, God’s will is not beyond us. He’s made it available: You know what Jesus teaches. If you don’t, read your bible. Then do that.

The Feeding Five Thousand story.

Mark 6.38-44, Matthew 14.17-21, Luke 9.13-17.

This story also takes place in the gospel of John, but I tell John’s version of it elsewhere. Today I’m focusing on the way the synoptic gospels tell it. John’s emphasis, honestly, is on Jesus’s Bread of Life teachings later in the chapter. The synoptics… well, you’ll see.

The Feeding Five Thousand story is basically Jesus’s riff on a similar situation with Elisha ben Šafat.

2 Kings 4.1-7 NLT

1One day the widow of a member of the group of prophets came to Elisha and cried out, “My husband who served you is dead, and you know how he feared the LORD. But now a creditor has come, threatening to take my two sons as slaves.”

2“What can I do to help you?” Elisha asked. “Tell me, what do you have in the house?”

“Nothing at all, except a flask of olive oil,” she replied.

3And Elisha said, “Borrow as many empty jars as you can from your friends and neighbors. 4Then go into your house with your sons and shut the door behind you. Pour olive oil from your flask into the jars, setting each one aside when it is filled.”

5So she did as she was told. Her sons kept bringing jars to her, and she filled one after another. 6Soon every container was full to the brim!

“Bring me another jar,” she said to one of her sons.

“There aren’t any more!” he told her. And then the olive oil stopped flowing.

7When she told the man of God what had happened, he said to her, “Now sell the olive oil and pay your debts, and you and your sons can live on what is left over.”

God multiplied oil to bail out this prophet. God can likewise multiply food to feed the big crowd who’d accumulated to listen to Jesus’s teaching.

Often this story’s titled, “Jesus Feeds Five Thousand.” And yeah, I can understand how you’d get that idea if all you read was the John version. Now, pay closer attention to the text and you’ll notice something.

The Feeding Five Thousand story, in 𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯.

John 6.8-13.

The way preachers tell this story, some boy volunteered his lunch, and Jesus multiplied it. I certainly hope the boy volunteered his lunch, because the text actually doesn’t say he did! The word for boy, παιδάριον/pedárion, is also slang for “slave,” and it’s entirely possible this was a slave’s lunch—and back then, people regularly forgot their manners with slaves, so it’s entirely possible one of Jesus’s students saw the lunch, said “Gimme that lunch!” and brought it to Jesus.

And yeah, we’d expect Jesus to respond to such behavior, “What is wrong with you? ‘Thou shalt not steal.’ We were just talking about that command last Tuesday. Go sit over there and think about what you’ve done. Son, I apologize for my student. Can I borrow your lunch? I promise I’ll give back even more.” But okay, let’s presume Jesus’s students knew better than to do any such thing.

The reason I translated ἄρτους/ártus, “breads,” as “pitas” is because that’s quite likely what they were: Flatbread. Smaller than naan or bagels, bigger than dinner rolls, but of course flat, ’cause of the way they were cooked on the side of a clay oven. Five was a small lunch—a child’s lunch, which is why it’s probably correct to say it came from a child instead of a slave. Made of barley instead of wheat; barley was cheaper, so this was likely a poor person’s lunch.

The synoptic gospels call the fish ἰχθύας/ikhthýas, “fishes,” which they were; but John identifies them as ὀψάρια/opsária, dried and salted fish, which you’d spread on the pitas if you didn’t only wanna eat bread. I translated them “anchovies,” which isn’t a precise translation, but it’s close enough. “Kippers” works too. You’ll notice in John, Jesus made the fish optional—if you wanted your pitas without fish, it’s fine. Even back then, not everybody liked anchovies!

Custom was for students to stand when the rabbi was talking. Now Jesus had them lie down, ’cause that’s how people ate in his culture.

John 6.8-13 KWL

8Simon Peter’s brother Andrew,

one of Jesus’s students, told him,

9“A boy is here who has five barley pitas and two anchovies,

but these things amount to what, for so many?”

10Jesus says, “Make the people recline.”

There’s a lot of grass on the ground, so the men recline.

Their number is like 5,000.

11So, taking the pitas and giving thanks to God,

Jesus distributes them to those reclining.

Likewise from the kippers—

as much as they want.

12Once they’re full, Jesus tells his students,

“Gather the overabundant scraps,

lest any of them perishes.”

13So they gather and fill 12 two-gallon baskets

with scraps of the five barley pitas

which exceeded what was eaten.

The “Majority Text” debate: KJV fans’ favorite Greek NT.

From time to time, particularly among Fundamentalists, you’re gonna find a person who insists no bible is trustworthy but the King James Version. Usually they’re called “King James Only” or “KJV-Only” Christians. I like to call them KJV-Onlyfans. Yes, I’m fully aware of how that’s gonna monkey with internet search engines. Or at least I hope so!

You’re gonna find KJV-Onlyfans revere the KJV a little too much, and regularly cross the line into bibliolatry. A number of ’em are cessationist, and don’t believe the Holy Spirit permits prophecy anymore; it stopped after the New Testament was complete. So instead of listening to the Holy Spirit, they elevate the Holy Bible, mix up the word of God with the Word of God, and worship the scriptures. Well, worship the scriptures they haven’t voided with dispensationalist interpretations. Hey, bibliolatry is complicated.

So… no bible is trustworthy but the KJV. What, I once asked one of the KJV-Onlyfans, about non-English bibles? What about a French-speaker who doesn’t know English, and therefore can’t use the KJV?—are there no trustworthy French bibles? His answer was, “No, there really aren’t.” My hypothetical French-speaker’s best option, he said, would be a French bible translated from the infallible KJV. That’s right, not from the original Hebrew and Greek texts; from the KJV. Toldja they regularly crossed the line.

The main reason KJV-Onlyfans believe as they do, is because they were told to believe it. Their preachers told ’em it’s a vital, essential part of Fundamentalism to be King James-believing Christians. That if you’re not a KJV-Onlyfan, you’re gonna fall into error and heresy and wind up in hell. So make sure you’re going to a KJV-Only church! Like theirs.

Then their preachers gave ’em a big ol’ list of reasons why they should trust no other bible but the KJV. The reasons vary, and some of the reasons are pretty dumb. Like “It was the bible of the Founding Fathers.” It wasn’t the bible of all of ’em! Charles Carroll was Roman Catholic, and used a Catholic bible. Quakers had their own translation, and those Founders in the Quaker movement used that. Deists like Benjamin Franklin and John Adams used any bible they pleased; Thomas Jefferson even sliced up his own.

But I digress. People don’t exalt the KJV because they’re convinced by the reasons; they exalt it ’cause they’re convinced by the preachers. The reasons exist because “Pastor said so” doesn’t sound convincing enough—so they sought reasons, and found a few.

And one of the reasons KJV-Onlyfans like to point to, is the Greek New Testament the KJV translators referred to: Desiderius Erasmus’s Textus Receptus. It’s the Greek NT used by Martin Luther, William Tyndale, Miles Coverdale, the Geneva Bible, the Bishops’ Bible, the KJV, Young’s Literal Translation, the NKJV, and the Modern English Version. They insist every Greek NT other than the Textus, or published after the Textus, is irredeemably flawed.

“Elders” who ought not be elders.

ELDER 'ɛld.ər adjective. Of a greater or advanced age.

2. [noun] A person of greater or advanced age.

3. [noun] A spiritually mature Christian, usually consulted as part of a church’s leadership, often entrusted with ministerial or priestly responsibility.

[Eldership 'ɛl.dər.ʃɪp noun.]

I remind you of the definition of “elder” because you notice the word has three meanings: An adjective describing something old; an older person, and a mature Christian. Don’t mix up the definitions! But of course some do.

Years ago, at a previous church I attended, we had an older person whom I’m gonna call Salwa. She wanted everybody in the church to call her “Grandma,” and think of her as the go-to person whenever we wanted prayer, or spiritual advice.

One evening one of our prayer meetings, she told us the story of how she came to Jesus. She grew up Christian, but never took it seriously; she spent many years living as a pagan; she dabbled in “spiritual” stuff and “spiritual” authors, but found all that stuff unsatisfactory; her neighbor invited her to church and she responded to the altar call, said the sinner’s prayer, and now she’s Christian.

How long ago had Salwa said the sinner’s prayer? Oh, three years ago!

That, I figured, explained everything. The serious lapses in Salwa’s bible knowledge meant she really needed to read more bible, and her many misinterpretations meant she was out of practice with basic reading comprehension. Her inappropriately-intense reactions to anything she found offensive, meant she needed some work on gentleness. Her sheer terror of anything which might lead people astray, meant she needed to learn more about grace.

She had some growing up to do! Same with every newbie.

The problem—as you mighta deduced from how she wanted folks to call her “Grandma”—is Salwa was older than average. In her 70s, I think. And she’d been Christian for three whole years, and had a Christian childhood, and read lots of “spiritual” stuff; therefore she considered herself an elder. Really. One of our “church mothers”—or grandmas, to her way of thinking.

She was awfully fond of this passage:

1 Timothy 5.1-2 NIV

1Do not rebuke an older man harshly, but exhort him as if he were your father. Treat younger men as brothers, 2older women as mothers, and younger women as sisters, with absolute purity.

Paul’s advice to Timothy is about treating fellow Christians as family, not underlings. But Salwa didn’t care about its context, and insisted it made her a “church mother,” who should be honored, respected, obeyed, and treated as in charge of things—same as one’s actual mother.

Um… no. You don’t put newbies in charge of anything. Especially one who won’t listen to anybody. Our head pastor wisely never let Salwa take charge of anything… no matter how often she nominated herself. “No no; that’s okay; we got somebody for that.” Even when we didn’t, and he was gonna have to do it—but he knew Salwa wasn’t qualified to handle authority, so he never gave her any.

Eventually Salwa stopped attending. No doubt she went to another church, looking for the power she coveted, hoping that church would overlook her many red flags and consider her an elder simply because she was elder.

“All have sinned”—and will keep on sinning? God forbid.

Romans 3.23.

I have a lot of memory verses in my brain. Most are in the King James Version. Some of that is because I grew up Fundamentalist, and Fundies were really wary of any new translations of the bible. And some of that is just because I’m old: There just weren’t a lot of other bible translations. We had the Revised Standard, the New American Standard, the Living Bible, the Good News Bible, and the Modern English Bible. No NIV yet.

So of course I have this verse in my brain in the KJV—

Romans 3.23 KJV

For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God;

—but weirdly I also have it memorized in the NIV. Well, the 1978 edition. Thankfully the 2011 edition is the same.

Romans 3.23 NIV

for all have sinned, and fall short of the glory of God,

Y’might notice neither translation ends the verse with a period, because verse 23 is part of a much larger Greek sentence. I’ll quote it in the NKJV because it doesn’t break the sentence apart.

Romans 3.22-26 NKJV

22BFor there is no difference; 23for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, 24being justified freely by His grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, 25whom God set forth as a propitiation by His blood, through faith, to demonstrate His righteousness, because in His forbearance God had passed over the sins that were previously committed, 26to demonstrate at the present time His righteousness, that He might be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus.

It’s a paragraph-long run-on sentence—and breaking it down into smaller sentences does help make it more understandable. But the gist is that there’s no difference between Jewish and gentile Christians, since everybody sinned, everybody needs Jesus, and everybody just needs to trust Jesus.

But generally, Christians quote verse 23 as a proof text for how everybody sinned. Everybody. At some point in every human being’s life—heck, it happens at many points in our lives, but unless we’re seriously narcissistic, we can all admit it happened at least once—we committed a sin. Broke one of God’s commands. Lied, cheated, stole, dishonored our parents, coveted what we shouldn’t, worked seven days a week instead of six, hated instead of loved, prioritized other things over God.

Everybody has. No exceptions—but one; we totally make one for Jesus, ’cause duh, it’s Jesus. Jn 8.46 Roman Catholics also make an exception for his mom, ’cause you search the bible: Any stories of her sinning? Ever? No? All righty then.

And frequently, people make exceptions for fetuses and newborns, ’cause they never yet had the chance to sin. Seems only fair. But everyone else has sinned. You, me, everybody.

In context, Paul is making the point humanity isn’t right with God. Isn’t justified. And isn’t gonna get right with God any other way. Not by being a descendant of Abraham; best guess is Abraham currently has a half billion living descendants, and everybody knows not all of them are right with God. Not by being a descendant of Israel ben Isaac; same problem. Not by following God’s Law, and obeying every single one of his commands as best we can; we’ve all slipped up dozens of times. Paul had to remind the Romans no, righteousness comes by faith.

And because we’re justified by faith, gentiles can likewise be justified when they trust Jesus. God will graciously establish a relationship with them, and grant them his kingdom as well as his Jewish followers. It’s good news!

But those who proof-text this verse are seldom interested in the good news. Just the bad: All have sinned. Including you.

Preparing to feed the 5,000—in the synoptic gospels.

Mark 6.35-37, Matthew 14.15-16, Luke 9.12-13.

Though I’m going through John, and covering the Feeding Five Thousand Story from his POV, I pointed out all the gospels include this story: Both John, and the other three which we call synoptics, or synoptic gospels, ’cause they frequently share the same optics—they describe Jesus from the very same point of view. (Probably because Matthew and Luke are using Mark as source material. That’s the prevailing theory.)

John introduces the story with Jesus checking out the vast crowd, then asking his student Philip about buying bread for them Jn 6.5 —as a test, not because Jesus literally wanted him to buy bread, Jn 6.6 and to kinda give us an idea of the resources needed to feed such a crowd.

The other gospels approach it thisaway: It’s late, and the students think it’s high time Jesus’s audience went home.

Mark 6.35-37 KWL

35Since a late hour comes already,

Jesus’s students, coming to him, say,

“The place is wilderness

and it’s a late hour:

36Release them, so they go to the fields around, and villages;

they can buy themselves something they can eat.”

37AIn reply Jesus tells them,

“You give them something to eat.”

Matthew 14.15-16 KWL

15Becoming evening,

the students come to Jesus, saying,

“The place is wilderness

and the hour comes:

Release the crowd, so going to the villages

they can buy themselves food.”

16Jesus tells them, “They have no need to go.

“You give them something to eat.”

Luke 9.12-13 KWL

12The day begins to recline,

and the Twelve, coming up, tell Jesus,

“Release the crowd, so going to the villages around, and fields,

they can rest and can find provisions,

for here we are in a wilderness.”

13AJesus tells them,

“You give them something to eat.”

This differing point of view presents a minor bible difficulty: Is it Jesus’s students who notice the people getting hungry, and figure it’s time for them to leave and get food, or is it Jesus who notices, and decides it’s time to feed them? I say minor bible difficulty because it’s not at all hard to recognize both Jesus and his kids would realize it was time for dinner; and it’s not at all hard to imagine Jesus might talk to Philip about feeding them before he spoke to the rest of the Twelve.

Getting ready to feed 5,000.

John 6.1-7.

John didn’t write his gospel in chapters. Took a few centuries before some enterprising Christian divided the bible into chapters; took a bit longer before it was divided further into verses. But when John was divided into chapters, the editor largely did it right: In a lot of ’em, Jesus does a miracle, and there’s fallout as people argue over what this miracle means, and what it means about Jesus; and Jesus of course has to correct some of their wrong ideas. And today, popular Christian culture still pitches their theories about what these miracles and Jesus’s teachings mean, and the Holy Spirit of course has to correct some of our wrong ideas. Assuming we listen to him any.

So John 6 begins with the Feeding Five Thousand Story. All four gospels tell this story, ’cause it’s important: It reminds us God’s kingdom has unlimited resources. I’ll begin with the first part of the story.

John 6.1-7 KWL

1After these things, Jesus goes across the Galilean sea, Tiberias.

2A great crowd is following Jesus,

because they’re watching the signs

which he’s doing among the sick.

3Jesus goes up a hill with his students.

4It’s getting near the Judean feast of Passover.

5Jesus is lifting up his eyes,

seeing this great crowd come to him.

He tells Philip, “Where might we buy bread

so these people might eat?”

6Jesus is saying this test Philip,

for he already knew what he’s about to do.

7Philip is answering Jesus,

“The bread of 200 denarii isn’t enough for them!

—so each one might receive a little.”

The Galilean sea.

The 166km² freshwater lake in northern Israel—which we wouldn’t call a “sea,” but the ancient Galileans proudly did—was originally called כִּנְּרוֹת/Khinnerót, “harps,” although in modern Hebrew it means “violins.” Supposedly the name is because it’s harp-shaped. Meh; kinda. Considering that place names in the bible were regularly the result of something happening there, instead of what something kinda looked like, my bet is something involving multiple harps happened there—a contest, a festival, a popular harp-manufacturer; whatever. The origin is lost to history, of course.

Anyway, by Jesus’s day, Herod Antipas had renamed it Τιβεριάς/Tiveriás, “Tiberias,” after the city he’d founded on its southern bank, which he named to suck up to the Roman emperor, Tiberius Julius Caesar Augustus. There’s no evidence Herod suppressed the original name—Luke still calls it “the lake of Genessaret,” Lk 5.1 ’cause Γεννησαρέτ/Ghennisarét is how Greek-speakers mangled the name Khinnerót. But Tiberias is how people outside Israel came to know it, which is why John used that name thrice.

We don’t know where the feeding took place. Some Christians have speculated it happened at Tiberias—that this is why the word Τιβεριάδος/Tiveriádos is in verse 1—but no; John was just using the proper name of the Galilean sea. We only know it didn’t happen at Bethsaida, ’cause Jesus goes there later.

Anyway. Crowds heard about Jesus curing people, so they wanted to check him out for themselves. And he did cure some of them. Mt 14.14, Lk 9.11 Then he climbs a hill, not to get away from them (although there is some of that), but so he can be seen, and maybe heard. The other gospels say he took advantage of the situation and taught ’em all day long. Mk 6.34-36 Maybe the Sermon on the Mount again; maybe something else. We don’t know.

Angry Jesus.

Some weeks ago I was speaking with someone about blogging on the gospel according to John. He expressed some excitement about it.

HE. “Oh yeah! You at the parts where Jesus really tears the Pharisees a new one?”

ME. “Getting there.”

HE. “I love that part.”

Doesn’t surprise me. He gets really, really angry at people whom he considers his political enemies, and loves to imagine himself tearing them a new one. Stands to reason he’d love seeing that same level of anger in Jesus.

And let’s be honest: Jesus does get angry sometimes! I’m not one of those interpreters who insist Jesus never did; that “God’s wrath” and “the day of wrath” are metaphors, or anthropomorphic euphemisms, for what’s really going on in God’s head, because God never really gets angry. Or insist, like the medieval scholastics used to argue, God can’t have legitimate human-type emotions, because that’d interfere with his immutable nature. (God does have an immutable, i.e. unchanging, nature. But the scholastics borrowed way too many ideas from Aristotle and the ancient Greeks, and went a bit wonky.)

Nope; sometimes God gets angry! We humans can legitimately piss him off. Whenever we openly defy him when we clearly know better; whenever we pretend to be righteous, but are hypocritically using our phony “righteousness” to stick it to others; whenever we take advantage of the weak and needy and marginalized, and assume we can easily get away with it because nobody’s watching. Human evil regularly enrages God.

It’s why the prophets and apostles kept pointing to a day when God would finally put things right—and called it “the day of the LORD’s wrath.” Ek 7.19, Zp 1.18, Ro 2.5, Rv 6.17 Because they expected, if not wanted, God to open up a can of whup-ass on humanity’s evildoers. (Presuming we’re not among them!)

But back to Jesus. Did Jesus get angry? Duh:

Mark 3.5 NLT

He looked around at them angrily and was deeply saddened by their hard hearts. Then he said to the man, “Hold out your hand.” So the man held out his hand, and it was restored!

In that story, Jesus was in synagogue, the people brought him a guy with a paralyzed hand, and accusers were watching Jesus to see whether he’d cure the guy, specifically so they could condemn him for “working” on Sabbath. Jesus rightly pointed out you can make exceptions for good deeds on Sabbath, Mk 3.4 but they didn’t wanna hear it. This was a setup; they weren’t interested in reason or God’s will; they just wanted to stick it to Jesus, and this guy with the messed-up hand was just a pawn in all this. Of course it made him angry. Shouldn’t it?

But I should also point out two things: This is the only place in the gospels where Jesus is said to be angry; and Jesus doesn’t act on his anger. At all. He cures the guy—which is something he’d have done either way, happy or angry. He doesn’t yell at the hypocrites; he doesn’t stop teaching and storm out of synagogue; he doesn’t make a whip out of rope and start flogging them.

Oh yeah; the story where Jesus makes a whip and drives the merchants and animals out of the temple. Christians constantly presume he’s angry in that story, ’cause flipping tables and cracking a whip sure sounds violent! But does the scripture say what his mood was when this happened? Raging like the Hulk in the comic books and movies? Or annoyed—“Aw nuts, this again”—and patiently moving their profit-making venture out of God’s sacred prayer space?

See, we’re projecting anger upon Jesus because we would get angry in these circumstances. We’re projecting anger upon Jesus whenever he condemns hypocrites, rebukes the thoughtless behavior of his students, or calls things as he sees ’em—and these things are pretty messed up! We would be angry.

And some of us don’t really give a wet crap about injustice and hypocrisy: We’re already angry. Injustice is just a convenient excuse to rage a bit, under the guise of “righteous anger.” But anger’s a work of the flesh, and we’re not following Jesus’s example and refusing to act upon it: We’re Hulking out.

Those accepting everyone and everything but Jesus.

John 5.41-47.

People regularly misunderstand this next bit because they regularly misdefine the word δόξα/dóxa, which Jesus uses throughout. The KJV translates it as “honour”—or as we Americans spell it thanks to Noah Webster, “honor.” And in American culture, “honor” means high respect. Great esteem. Reverence. Praises. Sometimes even worship… which makes some of us uncomfortable when people are getting honored like this, ’cause it can almost feel like idolatry. Honestly, sometimes it’s totally idolatry.

But dóxa doesn’t indicate a high opinion of someone; it just indicates one’s opinion. Good and respectable… or bad and infamous. It can go every which way. True, when Jesus is talking about the opinion people have of him, he rightly expects it should be a good one. He’s a good guy! He’s loving, kind, patient, generous, joyous; he exhibits all the Spirit’s fruit ’cause he’s loaded with the Holy Spirit. Jn 3.34 He never sins! Plus there’s the miracles—you remember this whole discourse was triggered by him curing someone who’d been disabled for decades. He’s done all sorts of good deeds like that. And let’s not forget he knows a ton about God and his kingdom.

Such a person should have the best reputation, whether it’s among devout religious people like himself, or among pagans who weren’t religious whatsoever, but who could nonetheless recognize a legitimately good, compassionate, and authentic guy when they saw him. Plenty of Christian ministers have just this kind of reputation: They’re well-known for their good character and good deeds, and everyone in their community respects ’em.

And then there’s Jesus among the people of Jerusalem. And they’re giving him crap because he cured the guy on Sabbath, and this must therefore mean he’s… evil? Wait, why’d they suddenly leap to that extreme? How messed-up is their thinking?

But lemme tell you: I run into plenty of people with the very same messed-up thinking. So have you. People who can’t fathom that a Christian minister is even Christian, simply because he’s a member of the wrong political party. Or because they don’t believe the Spirit does miracles anymore, and figure this person can’t possibly be doing miracles in the Spirit’s power; it’s gotta be the devil—and so they go straight to blaspheming the Spirit.

What’s their problem? It’s exactly the same diagnosis Jesus gives to his critics in Jerusalem: They don’t have God’s love within them. And without this particular fruit, no one can be trusted. No one can be loved. Jesus must be trying to deceive them for some reason, and no doubt they have plenty of paranoid, delusional guesses as to why. And since they imagine themselves devout, they’re pretty sure God gave them the power to discern just what he’s up to—and the power to ignore everything he says in his defense.

John 5.41-47 KWL

41“I don’t seek a reputation from people.

42But I knew you people:

You don’t have God’s love within yourselves.

43I came in my Father’s name

and you don’t accept me.

Another might come in their own name;

you’ll accept that person.

44How are you able to trust anyone?

You actually accept one another’s reputations?

You don’t seek the reputation which only comes from God?

45Don’t imagine I’ll accuse you before the Father:

Your accuser is Moses.

You once put your hope in him.

46For if you’re still trusting Moses,

it’s me you’re trusting,

for Moses writes about me!

47If you don’t trust those writings,

how will you trust my words?”

“Our thoughts and prayers are with you.”

When disaster strikes, whether natural or manmade, one of the most common platitudes we hear thereafter is, “Our thoughts and prayers are with you.”

In the past several years I’ve noticed the expression has seen backlash. Mainly because the politicians who say it most, are rather overt hypocrites. Their actions demonstrate they’re not thinking of the disaster victims at all. Their fleshly behavior also suggests they don’t pray either… or they’re praying in some weird manner which doesn’t change them whatsoever. You know, contrary to how prayer actually works.

Now yes, some of the backlash comes from nontheists who are pretty sure all prayer is bogus anyway. They don’t believe anybody’s listening, and we Christians are only talking to the sky. Prayers are therefore just as useless as when some pagans attempt to send positive thoughts, vibes, and energy towards the needy: All they actually do is psyche themselves into feeling really happy things, then feel a little burst of euphoria which they figure is them “releasing” those thoughts into the universe. And then… they’re back to life as usual. Unless the happy thoughts get ’em to deliberately behave in more positive, productive ways towards those around them; but usually they don’t. The universe is no different. Nor better.

Give you an example. One of the United States’ many mass shootings might take out more masses than usual. The news media covers it like crazy; the public is horrified; the usual senators (or more likely, their staffers who know how to use social media) stick things on the internet about how their “thoughts and prayers” are with the victims and their families. And those who want gun restrictions object: These particular senators have no plans to change the gun laws whatsoever, and if anything they’ll be wary of future gun restrictions, and continue to fight existing gun resstrictions. Which means more mass shootings are inevitable. So what good are those senators’ thoughts and prayers?

I mean, functionally it’s the same as when James objected to “faith” which lacked works:

James 2.14-17 GNT

14My friends, what good is it for one of you to say that you have faith if your actions do not prove it? Can that faith save you? 15Suppose there are brothers or sisters who need clothes and don’t have enough to eat. 16What good is there in your saying to them, “God bless you! Keep warm and eat well!”—if you don’t give them the necessities of life? 17So it is with faith: if it is alone and includes no actions, then it is dead.

Our “thoughts and prayers” frequently aren’t any different than wishing the needy well, but doing nothing to make ’em less needy. Sometimes out of our own laziness, sometimes our own ill will. And the needy aren’t dense. They see the irreligion in it. They’re calling us on it. Rightly so.

If our thoughts and prayers do nothing, our faith is dead.

Proof in Jesus’s favor—if you’re willing to see it.

John 5.30-40.

You might recall the story where Jesus cures some guy at a pool in Jerusalem. He’d been disabled for decades; people should’ve been rejoicing at this, ’cause God has a prophet in Israel who can cure the sick!

But instead the Judeans pitched a fit: Jesus cured this guy on Sabbath. To hypocrites like these guys, it sets a bad precedent: If God empowers good deeds on Sabbath, now they might have to do good deeds on Sabbath! Hence all their ridiculous arguments about how Jesus can’t be of God; God would never. Exactly the same as hypocrites nowadays, when they don’t care to help the needy, and offer ridiculous objections about any Christians who do. “Oh those people are active, unrepentant sinners,” as if Jesus didn’t regularly eat with sinners. “Oh those people are breaking the law,” as if Jesus didn’t likewise interact with people who violated the laws of Israel and God. But I digress.

Jesus correctly points out he can cure on Sabbath because his Father authorized him to do so. Because he is the Son of Man. This, despite all the obvious evidence Jesus is exactly who he says he is, his Judean critics didn’t care to hear.

Now before we get to today’s passage, I need to explain some of the historical and biblical context so it makes sense. Otherwise you’re just gonna read it and go, “Hmm. Why does Jesus say his testimony isn’t true?”

Elsewhere in John’s gospel, certain Pharisees object to Jesus’s teachings on legal grounds. No they’re not in a courtroom; no they don’t need to follow courtroom proceedings! But if you’ve ever debated someone, you might notice how, every once in a while, they might try to base some of their arguments and defenses on legal procedure and precedent. As if we’re in a courtroom, or in Congress, which we’re not. It’s not actually a valid debate tactic, but they’ll try it out anyway, and hope you never call ’em on it.

John 8.13 NRSVue

Then the Pharisees said to him, “You are testifying on your own behalf; your testimony is not valid.”

Literally they said ἀληθής/alithís, “true,” but no they weren’t accusing Jesus of lying (like the NKJV and other translations have it). Historical context, folks. Testifying about yourself didn’t count in court. It wasn’t “true,” i.e. valid, unless you had a second witness to confirm you. Like Moses put it:

Deuteronomy 19.15 NRSVue

“A single witness shall not suffice to convict a person of any crime or wrongdoing in connection with any offense that may be committed. Only on the evidence of two or three witnesses shall a charge be sustained.”

I should point out some commentators claim Judeans wouldn’t accept anyone’s testimony about themselves: If you were ever put on trial, you had to be silent, because your testimony didn’t count. This is of course rubbish; if you’ve read your bible you know people regularly spoke up at their trials. Jesus, Peter and John, Stephen, and Paul all made statements at their trials; Stephen took up an entire chapter. Ac 7 Jesus was even sentenced to death on his testimony: Nobody else’s testimony was proven valid! Mk 14.56-59 But Jesus testified he’s Messiah, Mt 26.63-66 and his testimony was certainly valid. Self-testimony certainly could be. Jn 8.14 It’s just Jesus’s listeners, in this case and others, wanted more witnesses.

Now whenever Jesus made significant statements, he usually started ’em with “Amen,” which gets translated “Verily verily” in the KJV, and “Very truly I tell you” in the NIV and NRSVue. He did so before these statements too. Jn 5.19, 24, 25 It’s actually an oath: He swears what he’s saying is true. He is the Son of Man; he will judge the world on the Father’s behalf. But yeah, by legal standards, he only provided his own testimony, so it shouldn’t hold up in court.

Thing is, they weren’t in court! (Well, there’s the court of public opinion, but you know how lawless that can get.) But if you wanna challenge Jesus on a point of Law, you’re in for it: Jesus knows the Law better than anyone. Whom do you think gave it to Moses? Yes, the correct answer is “the LORD”—and that’s Jesus.

So he’ll play along. You demand a second testimony? Fine; he’s got witnesses.

The bible’s not a biology textbook!

Leviticus 11.13-19, Deuteronomy 14.11-18, Jonah 1.17, Matthew 12.40

During a talk with a fellow Christian, we went off on a bit of a tangent.

ME. “…Like when Jonah got swallowed by the whale…”

HE. “Sea creature.”

ME. “Whale. How’re you getting ‘sea creature’ from kítus?”

HE. “From what?”

HE. “Kítus. The Greek word for ‘whale.’ The word Jesus used when he talked about Jonah being in the whale’s belly three days and nights. Mt 12.40 It’s the word we get our adjective ‘cetacean’ from, which refers to whales, dolphins, porpoises, and other marine mammals.”

HE. [confused; betcha he didn’t expect me to know what I was talking about] “But Jonah said he was swallowed by a great fish.” Jh 1.17

ME. “Sure.”

HE. “Well a whale’s not a fish.”

ME. “But it was a fish in Jesus’s day.”

HE. “Whales used to be fish…?”

HE. “Because the ancients classified them as fish. They figured if it lives in the sea, it’s a fish. Then somebody eventually realized some of these ‘fishes’ have lungs, and decided if you have lungs you’re not a fish, and humanity redefined ‘fish.’ Well, bible’s still using the old definition. So in the bible, whales are big fish.”

HE. [still confused] “But whales aren’t fish.”

ME. “Aren’t fish anymore. They were fish back in Jesus and Jonah’s day.”

HE. “So are you saying the bible’s wrong, or we are?”

ME. “Neither. The bible doesn’t define fish; it explains God. We define fish. You remember Adam got to name the animals. Ge 2.19-20 We get to decide what’s a fish and what’s not. And if we redefine fish, we can do that; it doesn’t violate the bible to do that. The only problem is when we try to update the bible to fit our definition of fish, and make the bible look inconsistent when it’s really not.”

This very issue came up again this weekend. My pastor had a little quiz about bible literacy, and I pointed out to him Jesus said Jonah was swallowed by a κήτους/kítus, “whale.”

Matthew 12.40 KJV

For as Jonas was three days and three nights in the whale’s belly; so shall the Son of man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth.

It’s right there in red and white. Well, unless you’re reading a more recent translation which renders kítus as “sea creature” or “big fish.”

Amplified, LSB, NASB, NRSV: “sea monster”

CEV, GNT: “big fish”

CSV, NET, NIV: “huge fish”

ESV, MEV, NKJV: “great fish”

ISV: “sea creature”

But I remind you: None of these translations are accurate. None. They’re all conforming to the דָּ֣ג גָּד֔וֹל/dag gadól, “great fish,” of Jonah:

Jonah 1.17 KJV

The LORD arranged for a great fish to swallow Jonah.

Jonah was in the fish’s bowels three days and three nights.

But to Jesus’s mind (at the time) a whale was a great fish. And isn’t Jesus in a position to know which species of “fish” swallowed Jonah? He said kítus, “whale”; so it was a whale.

My point is, if you know your history, there’s not actually a bible difficulty here! The problem is people don’t know history, and think there’s a difficulty if Jesus says “whale”… so y’notice a fair number of bible translators have changed the Lord Jesus’s words so that there’s no difficulty anymore. Which reveals all sorts of disturbing things about them. Namely a bothersome amount of intellectual dishonesty.

Quit praying to Satan!

There’s an traditional African folk song called “What a Mighty God We Serve.” If you grew up Christian, maybe you heard it in Sunday school. Sometimes adults sing it too. Goes like so.

♫ What a mighty God we serve

♫ What a mighty God we serve

♫ Angels bow before him

♫ Heaven and earth adore him

♫ What a mighty God we serve

Years later I found out it has more lyrics—words my children’s and youth pastors never bothered to teach us. You might be able to guess why.

♫ I command you Satan in the name of the Lord

♫ To take up your weapons and flee

♫ For the Lord has given me authority

♫ To walk all over thee

There are variations. I often hear “put down your weapons” in the second line, which makes way more sense than “take up your weapons.” There’s also “stomp all over thee” in the fourth—which comes with stomping movements, which are always fun.

Anyway. Lots of Sunday schools skip these lines, so lots of Christians aren’t aware of ’em. I hadn’t heard them in years; then they came up again in summer youth camp. The pastor got all the kids to sing along with the first part, but when she broke into the second part, the kids sat there confused: “Why’s she singing to the devil?” Anyway, because they didn’t sing along, she concluded, “I guess you don’t know that part,” and went right back to the “What a mighty God we serve” bit they did know.

As to why churches don’t teach it: Well you are singing to the devil! And shouldn’t. Don’t do that.

Likewise there are a number of Christians who pray to the devil. You may have seen it happen. Someone gets up to pray. Then, in the middle of all their other praises and petitions to God, they put the Lord on pause, and dial Satan in on our conference call.

“And Satan, we rebuke you. We bind you. We cast you out. You have no authority here. You have no business in this place. You get out of here, Satan. You’re under our feet.”

And so on. You get the idea.

Again: Don’t do that!

I know; I know. You’ve seen pastors and prayer leaders do it. You’ve seen Christians whom you greatly respect doing it. Loads of people do it. But they shouldn’t do it either.

“Don’t make me come down there!”

1 Corinthians 4.14-21.

The church of Corinth’s confusion about which faction to follow, about clever Christian teachings, about how blessed they are in Christ, provoked the apostles to send them someone trustworthy to correct the church: The apostle Timothy. 1Co 4.17 In the 60s Timothy wound up leading the church of Ephesus, but at this point in the 50s, he was apparently sent by Paul to various hotspots where the Christians were losing sight of the main thing, i.e. following Christ Jesus.

’Cause churches get like that! Still get like that. They follow popular teachers, they get all agitated about what sinners are up to, they dabble in politics (or get fully invested in ’em), they invent loopholes to justify all their sins, they relabel their fleshly behavior to make their evil attitudes sorta sound Christian. The Corinthians did all that stuff and more, and though Paul and Sosthenes rebuke ’em a lot for stuff like this, here Paul recognizes a letter alone is not gonna cut it: He has to send them a good example. Can’t be him right now; he’s in Macedonia. 1Co 16.5 But Timothy’s a good man, so he’ll send ’em Timothy.

1 Corinthians 4.14-21 KWL

14I don’t write these things to embarrass,

but to caution you all, like my beloved children.

15You may have myriads of teachers in Christ,

but not many parents,

for I’m your father in Christ Jesus, through the gospel,

16so I urge you to mimic me.

17This is why I send you Timothy:

He’s my beloved child and has faith in the Master.

He’ll remind you of my way in Christ Jesus,

just as I teach it everywhere in every church.

18Though I myself am not coming to you,

—and some will puff up about that—

19when the Master wills, I will come quickly.

I will know what’s what,

not by the teaching of those who’ve been puffed up,

but the power.

20For God’s kingdom isn’t about teaching,

but about power.

21What do you want?

Should I come to you with a stick?

Or in love, and a spirit of gentleness?

To be fair, though the apostles say, “I don’t write these things to embarrass, but caution you,” no doubt some of this stuff did embarrass them. They thought they were doing great! 1Co 4.8 But they were confusing material prosperity, and clever teachings, with success—as pagans typically do. By pagan standards they’re doing great! But by God’s kingdom’s standards—which to pagan minds, is upside-down in an awful lot of ways—they were completely buggered, and needed some hands-on course correction. They needed Timothy.

Read the bible this August. Yes, all of it.

Back when you were making New Year’s resolutions, one of them mighta been to read the bible. All the bible, from Genesis to the maps; probably using one of those bible-in-a-year plans. Lots of Christians do.

Then, somwhere around February or March, you kinda fumbled the plan. It happens to the best of us! Hopefully you got right back on it and caught up with the reading. Many don’t. Some skip over all the parts they missed, figuring they’ll read ’em next year. Some never do read ’em next year.

And some, of course, quit altogether.

But you realize you can pick up thty resolution at any part of the year, right? It doesn’t have to be in January. You don’t have to start reading the bible in January. In fact, some of the bible-reading plans have you read the bible twice or three times a year, meaning you start in January and July; or January, May, and September. But September’s usually super busy, and August is not… so hey, why not start in August? Get done in November instead of the busy, busy December.

Of course you can also read the bible in a month. It’s totally doable. I do it in January; you can do it in August. Or September, or October, or any month; if your August happens to be crazy busy, maybe next month would be better. But there’s no reason to procrastinate reading the bible… well, other than crippling depression, and for that you oughta see a doctor. But otherwise there’s not!

As I’ve written elsewhere, the year-long reading plans makesthe bible sound like a massive project, and it’s really not. An audio bible will be less than 100 hours long, and if you listened to it three hours a day (or 90 minutes twice a day), you’re done in 33 days. Audiobooks tend to go at a slow pace, so if you sped it up to 150 percent speed, those three hours will now be two. I of course read much faster than an audiobook will go. So can most of you. An hour of bible a day can get the bible done in a month. I know from experience; I’ve done it for years.

Though the bible’s a big thick book collection, going through the whole of it in August is far from impossible. Go for it!