The new people of God.

1 Peter 2.9-12.

Passages like the section of 1 Peter I’m analyzing today, tend to get quoted by people who wanna preach replacement theology, the belief Israel is no longer God’s chosen people, ’cause he ditched them because they rejected their Messiah. It’s not a belief consistent with the scriptures, ’cause God never ditched ancient Israel. He may have let the Assyrians and Babylonians conquer them, but he stuck with them regardless. Yes, after they rejected Jesus, he let the Romans conquer them. Yet he still hasn’t ditched them. Still wants to save them. Still wants to be their God, and they his people.

But—so long that we continue to abide in Christ, y’know, Jn 15.4 God also considers us Christians his people. A new people, bonded to him by his new covenant. Simon Peter applies some of the covenant-language of the Old Testament, previously applied to Israel, to us Christians. Not because those Old Testament passages were prophesying about Christendom; they weren’t. They’re absolutely about ancient Israel. But when we come out of the darkness and into God’s light, we become like ancient Israel, and discover our relationship with God looks like everything he promised their relationship with him coulda been—and could still be!—had they only followed him.

1 Peter 2.9-12 KWL

9All of you² “chosen generation,” Is 43.20

you² “kingdom of priests

and holy nation,” Ex 19.6

you* “people I preserve” Is 43.21

exist so the virtues might be made known

of the One calling you² out of darkness

into his wonderful light.

10 Previously not a people,

and now God’s people.

Previously not shown grace,

and now you² were shown grace.

11Beloved, I encourage you² all,

like foreigners and refugees,

to stay away from fleshly desires—

whatever wages war with the soul—

12having your² way of life among the gentiles

be better so that,

though they speak ill of you² like criminals,

yet still seeing your² good deeds,

might glorify God on Judgment Day.

There are a lot of similarities between Christians and the ancient Hebrews. Previously they lived in darkness; they weren’t really a people-group; they were slaves in Egypt until the LORD rescued them. Christians, in comparison, before we turned to Jesus, were slaves to sin. God had to rescue us, same as he rescued the Hebrews—and wants to lead us towards a glorious destiny, same as he intended for the Hebrews.

If only we’d continue to follow him. Too many of us really don’t, give in to our fleshly desires, 1Pe 2.11 and hypocritically pretend that’s okay; we’ve got grace now! That’s gonna have consequences. Peter doesn’t get into that, but I remind you to learn the lesson from Israel’s bad example. There but for God’s grace go we.

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 Aramaic 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 Aramaic gave Simon an Aramaic 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.