Results tagged “book review” from Reformation21 Blog

Co-Laborers, Co-Heirs


Occasionally, a family calls a council at which members express critiques of family interactions, rules and priorities. In my family, the meeting often revolves around the same few contentious topics. Our family rules are set, but we also desire for each member to know that their insights can make a real difference. In the end, the rules don't usually change, but we adjust certain applications based on their input. Co-Laborers, Co-Heirs  is such a family meeting. 

Alexander Jun, Moderator of the 45th  General Assembly for the PCA prefaces the book: 

"My sisters in Christ have called for a denominational family meeting to discuss some critical questions in our churches (...)" Brittany Smith, one of the editors and contributors, introduces the book with the need for a strong apologetic: "And if we want to have a strong apologetic for why we consider it biblical to continue to have male-only eldership, we need not only the willingness to attempt to thoughtfully articulate our beliefs (...), but also a willingness to root out latent misogyny in the church." (p.XIV)

The family meeting starts with the stories of sisters in PCA churches, learning from their perspectives, and wrapping it up with statements from our fathers and brothers. A variety of female voices of different racial backgrounds contribute: married and single, professionals and homemakers. They are well-spoken, theologically astute sisters, who, for the most part (a little snark included!) write in a gracious tone, despite reporting hurtful experiences. Pastors who have wrestled through the issues add their stories, coming to their own conclusions and applications. If there is anything afoul in our churches we should not be afraid to assess it, address it and redress it.

Sisters tell sad stories of observing very poor counseling or protection from abuse. Some women feel judged for their career choices or marital status. Women with teaching gifts struggle to fit in, while others feel their role in worship is limited. Some feel their gifts are ignored, their questions are threatening, their interest in theology is suspect. These reports are disheartening! The book also contains a few encouraging stories of women who feel respected, cared for and very much at home in the PCA.

Co-Laborers, Co-Heirs is a clarion call to pastors to examine whether they deliberately see, love, serve, encourage, and train the women in their congregations, as well as think creatively about utilizing their gifts for the edification of the body. One of the negative examples given reveals a restrictive approach to women in the church that borders on spiritual abuse: "'Are you really saying that women may not teach the Bible, even to other women?' (...) 'Yes. All teaching must be done by the pastors. The women should restrict their teaching to the application of the doctrines.' "(238) If this is true, this brother is prohibiting women from doing something the Scriptures expressly commands in Titus 2.

I find the family model a helpful theological framework onto which to hang gender relations in the church. "If we are the family of God (...), then surely how we treat women in our family is just as important as making sure that our church order is proper and that we ensure that only men are teaching and ruling elders. In fact, if we love to call each other "fathers and brothers," then we should also delight to call the women in our churches "mothers and sisters." (254) The testimonies by men expressing humility and willing to recognize their own blind spots are moving as well. "Most of the difficulties I have had (...) have not been resolved by clarifying roles. They have been resolved by my repenting of my male hubris and disrespect for women." (283) There is also the recognition that "Not all complementarians are out to grab or preserve male authority and patriarchy. In fact, most are not. Most (...) see themselves as men and women who are under authority." (290-291) There is no shame in recognizing that we, as a denominational family, can continue to grow in love toward one another.

From an editorial standpoint, it is always difficult for a multi-authored work not to feel too choppy. Some contributions, though interesting, don't seem to quite fit the topic at hand and some were adapted for this book. Understandably, multiple authors discuss the meaning of ezer/helper, for example, leading to some repetition for the reader.

The lack of clear definitions can be frustrating. What is meant by "leadership", "ministry", "feminism", "pastor", "patriarchy", "privilege", etc.? The struggle over language is not just the reader's. One pastor who has hired a woman admits: "Another ongoing tension has to do with language: What do we call her? Debbie is a pastor; she pastors people. In many ways she is a better pastor than I am (...) there are real distinctions between what she does and what I do. But still, there is something of an awkward tension in my own heart about titles." (195) A family needs to share common language. Most of us in the PCA would probably be shocked to hear of a sister church hiring a woman pastor. Words are important because they communicate implied realities. The fact that there is a lot of one-anothering across gender lines in churches does not mean that every person who ministers to another is a "pastor". The Apostle Paul nowhere forbids women from caring for others, including men in the church, but he does forbid them having an authoritative overseer function. If we said Debbie is "pastoral" with a lower-case p, we understand, but if Debbie is functioning as an elder, this would be problematic in our PCA context. Our language needs to match our realities more closely.

The term "sexual minorities," (182) for example, is also confusing. SSA Christians may well be in the minority, but this does not give them special status based on sinful tendencies. Whether intentional or not, the book provides no correctives to terminology. In fact, it seems to be leaning in the direction of defining women's experiences in terms of intersectionality, meaning the more strikes there are against someone, the more likely that person is to be oppressed in the PCA. Naturally, we should deal with injustice or gracelessness in our hearts and in our churches, but what paucity is ours if we cling to our hurt or even our sinful tendencies as germane to our identity instead of who we are in Christ!

Some troubling points are the less than gracious accusations made against specific PCA brothers who feel strongly about guarding our doctrine. It is said that they don't want to revisit the issue because they fear a slippery slope into liberalism. These men may have a valid point when one considers the direction of other denominations that have abandoned the biblical teaching on gender altogether. Said elders would probably explain in their own defense that the family rules have already been established in our creeds and confessions and hence do not need constant revisiting. Are our elders not called to guard the precious apostolic deposit of the church? Do we not need them to bring correctives to our young women growing up with worldviews radically opposed to the Bible, some of which are evident in this book? They are constantly hearing that there is nothing they cannot do, that personal choice and autonomy, sexual preference, career and equal rights are the highest values to pursue. We need our elders to help us recalibrate our hearts and minds to the Word of God!

Even the topic of inerrancy seems to be framed negatively, as part of the historical analysis for why the PCA disallows women's ordination: "This link between disallowing the ordination of women and belief in Scripture's inerrancy is highly significant. It excludes the possibility of variation in interpretation of Scripture, at least in relation to passages on the role of women in the Church. (...) to prevent women from being ordained is to respect biblical principles, thereby maintaining the centrality of Scripture's inerrancy. (161) This is a true statement, but unfortunately, it could be perceived to mean: "If we could only toss inerrancy, we could finally reinterpret the Bible to allow women's ordination." (Forgive me, sister, if I'm completely misunderstanding your intent). Why not formulate what we believe positively?

What is positively formulated throughout the book, is a compelling apologetic for working together and respecting one another as brothers and sisters in the family of God. What is missing for me as a complementarian female reader, however, is a clear, no-nonsense, exposition of why God's creational authority structures in marriage and in the church are very good, and how they are a testimony to the Gospel itself. This is what the younger generation of women will need to make sense of and integrate their femaleness into God's grand story of redemption. There is a repetitive, positive focus on being an ezer, Eve's task at Adam's side, but hardly even a mention of the obvious main way the woman is called to help, namely by being chavvah, a life-giver, which is essential to Eve's unique creational identity. I experienced a great deal of sadness of a different sort when I read statements such as "We are smart. We're scholars. We're teachers (...) But don't relegate us to the nursery and the Women's Committee" (301). Relegate? Does teaching only qualify as good when men are in the room? Let's be careful not to become "sexist" and "ageist" and throw our own babies out with the bathwater of our past frustrations with the church! This aspect of woman's Imago Spiritus (her being made in the image of the Lord and Giver of life), though not strictly confined to biology, remains central to God's creational intent. What a missed opportunity!

Regardless of the critique I have raised about certain aspects of this book, I recommend it to you. Listen to your sisters in the PCA, mourn the sins committed against them. Interact critically with the ideas being discussed in the denomination, even if you fall on the other side of the family discussion. I believe that we will remain a complementarian family. Some will want to preserve doctrine carefully, others might want to push Christian freedom. At the end of the day, even our most progressive churches will not go far enough for those who cannot agree to the limitations placed on women drawn from the Scriptures, however positively the message is packaged.

Eowyn Jones Stoddard lives in Berlin, Germany. She studied at Westminster Seminary in California.

Sufficient Hope


If you could give a new mom the perfect gift, what would it be? Would it be full night's sleep? Maybe you'd give her a hot meal without interruption or maybe the confidence that she'll be a good mom. Those would be precious gifts to any mom. But what do moms need most?

More than any of these things, moms need the gospel. This isn't just a "Jesus juke" or an attempt to be more "spiritually-minded." It's the fundamental truth that the gospel fulfills our greatest needs. The gospel isn't something basic that mature Christians move past. It isn't the stepping stone for the really important things in life. The gospel is our lifeline. It's our hope and our future. It's our daily help and comfort.

How does the gospel apply to moms? In her new book, Sufficient Hope: Gospel Meditations and Prayers for Moms, Christina Fox seeks to apply the hope and help of the gospel to our lives as moms:

Whatever experiences we face in motherhood, we all need Jesus--and he is sufficient. That's what this book is about: our need for the gospel of Jesus Christ. In every moment, in every season, and whatever our circumstances, the gospel is sufficient to give us hope. (14)

Christina's book is composed of short meditations on the gospel and practical applications to various aspects and challenges of motherhood. Each chapter closes with a gospel-centered prayer highlighting the focus of that chapter. In modern discussions, too often "the gospel" is left undefined or poorly explained. Thankfully, Christina gives a comprehensive explanation of what the gospel is and why we need it.

Our understanding of the gospel should always begin with who Jesus is and what He's done for us. As Christina reminds us:

Jesus Christ came to rescue you and me from our greatest problem: the sin that separates us from God. He came to live the life that we could not live and to die the death that we deserved for our sin. In doing so, he rescued us from our slavery to sin. He freed us from trying to live life on our own apart from God. He delivered us from seeking our hope outside of him. And he has promised to be for us what we can't be for ourselves. (51)

Because Jesus has lived and died for us, we are at peace with God, we are united to Christ, and the Spirit is at work in us. God's grace is sufficient for us, and no matter what we face in our lives and as mothers we can rest and trust in Him to be with us and to preserve us (44). Life is hard. Motherhood is hard. But we aren't alone:

Whatever we face in our day--whether hardship or joy-- the grand story of the Bible gives shape to our expectations. It explains our longings. It gives hope to our struggles. And it points us to the glory to come. (45)

When we go through challenges and struggles, Christina calls us to remember the gospel, to remember who Jesus is and what He's done for us. Jesus is our hope and our help.

The gospel also reminds us of the grace and mercy that God has given and continues to give us every day. As moms, we want to be perfect. We hold ourselves up to impossible standards. We want to believe that we can do all the right things and protect our children from all harm. But we're not perfect. We're sinners, and we can't possibly do it all.

In God's grace, we have forgiveness for our sins, and we can find rest. We don't need to worry over the future or our failures. We don't have to shoulder our burdens alone (95).

With this gospel foundation, Christina addresses specific challenges that we face as moms. These include finding contentment, fighting loneliness, what to do when our children sin or are hurting, and how to handle guilt. With each topic, she graciously applies the truths of the gospel to our lives as moms.

We all need the gospel, in good times and bad. Whatever our daily circumstances, we need to remember and dwell on who Jesus is and what He's done for us:

Turn to Jesus and keep your eyes fixed on him. Remember the story of redemption, and recite what God has done for you. Remember why things in life don't work out as they should, what God did about it through his Son, and how he gives you great hope for the future, when all things that are broken will be made whole. (46)

I strongly recommend Christina's book to moms, both new and experienced. I hope you are as blessed by this book as I've been.



A Reformed Demonology?


The rather measured and restrained work by John Livingston Nevius (1829-1893), Demon Possession and Allied Themes; Being an Inductive Study of Phenomena of Our Own Times, delivers exactly what the title promises, though what it promises is rather unusual by the author's own admission.

Nevius was a Presbyterian missionary with a Dutch Reformed background. He graduated from Princeton Theological Seminary in 1853 with the high regard for science but firm commitment to the supreme authority, pristine integrity, and complete trustworthiness of Scripture instilled in the students by the faculty he studied under (Archibald Alexander and Charles Hodge, for starters). Upon graduating he was promptly ordained and then went straight to China with his new wife in cramped quarters on a leaky old merchant ship out of Boston. He would serve there the rest of his life--over forty years--with just a handful of interludes due mostly to his wife's uneven health.

The Nevius Plan

Nevius is best remembered today for the "Nevius Plan" of mission work. In brief, he believed the missionary's task was nothing else but the old school task of preaching the gospel to all kinds of people at every opportunity and building up a self-propagating, self-governing, and self-supporting indigenous church. To do this required a robust program of systematic Bible study alongside evangelism in order to train up local leaders to rule and minister effectively.

Nevius's focus on a thorough indigenization of Christianity on the mission field was outside the box in his generation (and still is in some respects). Nevius did not believe we should be creating or maintaining lines of dependence that placed the missionary or mission team or mission agency--all foreign entities--at the center of the work. Yet he was also wary of dumping the Bible on people without instruction. He thought the word ought to be ministered to people by preachers and teachers who lived it out in their lives and served it up in the local language. Missionaries were to be so heavily invested and deeply devoted to their work that they lived and traveled lightly in the world.

Perhaps the great irony of his life's work is that his plan was never adopted in China. He published his views in Chinese Recorder and Missionary Journal in 1885 (subsequently published as a short volume under the title The Planting and Development of Missionary Churches, 1899). He was then invited to share the plan at length with missionaries to Korea at a formative time in the development of that new mission. The missionaries there fully embraced it and today the Nevius Plan is widely cited as a critical factor in the rapid indigenization of Christianity and Presbyterianism on the peninsula. Back in China, his plan was never really adopted until it was eventually hijacked by the Communist Party and twisted to support their anti-foreigner campaign.


Reformed Demonology

While on the field in China, however, he also witnessed and received numerous reports of supposed cases of demon possession. In Demon Possession and Allied Themes, Nevius attempts to sort through his observation of such a case on the field and reports of similar occurrences by others serving in China and elsewhere around the world. Prurient interest in demons was not his motive; rather, "the prosecution of his missionary work in China . . . repeatedly forced" this question on him, "so that if became absolutely necessary to examine it, and to form an intelligent opinion respecting it" (ix). As such, "this is not a work of the imagination." His object is simply to "present a truthful statement of facts, confident that from such a course, nothing but good can come to the cause either of science or religion" (x).

The facts were that he did encounter and receive reports of apparent demon possession in the field and the Chinese people understood these cases to be just what the appeared to be for as long as their history was known. When they heard the gospel accounts of instances of demon possession, this was something very familiar to them even though it was completely unfamiliar to the Western missionaries working among them.

Chinese converts were a bit baffled by this, and Nevius felt compelled to offer some answer. He was initially skeptical and confesses "it was my hope when I began to investigate the subject of so-called 'demon-possession' that the Scriptures and modern science would furnish the means of showing the Chinese, that these phenomena need not be referred to demons." His final report, which was published just after his death, reflects this intention.

The first third or more of the work relates supposed instances of possession and similar occurrences drawn mostly from China (and most often from Chinese reports), but also from other mission fields in the world. He then launches into an extended analysis considering evolutionary, pathological, and psychological theories of the facts he has established, before turning to "the biblical theory." One might wonder whether some of these reports are reliable or whether more of them might have a psychological explanation than Nevius permitted. Nevertheless, he is quit aware not all reports are credible and that there is a real difference between mental illness and demon possession.

He is also aware that demon possession and similar phenomena "are taught clearly and unmistakably in both the Old and New Testaments" and that "these teachings are not occasional and incidental, but underlie all Biblical history and Biblical doctrines" (243). He then draws out the apologetic issue at stake with commendable clarity and precision, in my estimation. (Perhaps I can return to a bit of that in a future post.)

Nevius's Reformed demonology, if you will, is cautious. As noted, he focuses on establishing just the descriptive facts as far as he is able and then considers all the available explanations known to him. He does not take accounts at face value but neither does he lightly dismiss what seems credible. His central task is to bring it all under the judgment of Scripture. Having set out to convince the Chinese that supposed cases of demon-possession were in fact something else, however, "the result has been quite the contrary" (262).

Distinguishing between demon-induced temptation and demon possession, Nevius reasons that Christians are frequent objects of the former but never the latter since believers are indwelled by the Spirit of Christ who dispossesses Satan and his kingdom. He even indulges a bit of speculation that demon possession is more common in those parts of the world where the gospel has not made much progress, and that they "appear to our view, with comparatively few exceptions, only as the epoch when the advancing tide of aggressive Christianity comes into contact and collisions with the storm-tossed sea of heathenism" (278).



Nevius's arguments are not unfamiliar to contemporary readers, but they are both better constructed and more measured than those frequently encountered in popular literature on this topic--all the more commendable given the pioneering nature of his study. Demon Possession and Allied Themes is not just an interesting mission artifact but also a solid piece of theology with an apologetic pay-off. It is not a complete demonology. It is, however, a model of discretion in dealing with reports of this sort; it is also a thoroughly Reformed contribution to the field by a man working through his cessationist convictions on the mission field while addressing an increasingly anti-supernatural intelligentsia in America (see Newbold's New World review, 1897) who could do little more with this work than thank him for the effort and smirk at what its supposedly simple-minded, creed-determined conclusions.

Broken Pieces and the God Who Mends Them


Lois Lowry tells a story about how a utopian state required that all of the community's memories going back through the generations be committed to a single person, a receiver. The elders engineered a society where no one but the receiver had to feel or remember. Life was safe and comfortable. The citizens were spared the pain of knowing, of emoting. And they could always call on the receiver when faced with a decision that exceeded their self-imposed limited experience.

Lowry's The Giver makes sense to me. She understands the Preacher. "For in much wisdom is much grief, and he who increases in knowledge increases sorrow" (Eccl. 1:18). I agree. There are some stories I don't want to know. Some pictures relentlessly haunt.

This is why I didn't want to read Simonetta Carr's Broken Pieces and the God who Mends Them: Schizophrenia Through a Mother's Eyes (P&R, 2019). I knew just enough of the story to know that it would rattle me vigorously. It did. As I read the book I felt like I was being asked to carry a tiny fraction of the burden Simonetta and her family bore--and it was still onerous.

But I also see the beauty of being part of a community where personal possession of painful knowledge is essential to burden-bearing. Lowry's characters--to the extent that they could still reason without deep recall and feeling--believed that avoiding the pain of shared memory and emotion was an advantage. But the receiver knew that something basic to their humanity had been stolen from them. We need to feel even when we don't want to. It is part of what makes us human, part of what made Jesus quintessentially human. When we give and receive sad--and happy--memories we affirm each other's humanity. Being drawn into Simonetta's living nightmare felt like being told, "I trust you with this memory. I want you to have part of my experience so that you will be more than you are." Giving and receiving hard memories is beautifully symbiotic.

Broken Pieces is one of the most courageous books I have ever read. Simonetta told me, "It hurt me to write it because I was reliving every moment." I couldn't have written it. I would have been too scared. But I am so glad Simonetta did. And perhaps now I am a little more ready to follow her lead in sharing some of my grief with other receivers.

One of my wife's grandmothers had schizophrenia. During the last years of her life she broke off communication with us because we told her how much we loved her house; she thought we were trying to take it. We saw her only one time in the months before her death. She told us not to come. But we showed up at her front door, unannounced, with our charming two-year-old extended toward the door; a peace-offering no grandma could resist. She buckled, and let us in one last time. Schizophrenia made grandma unpredictable. The family genuinely feared that she would leave her entire estate to her dog. More seriously, her children grew up in a home with their mother institutionalized for long stretches. I wish Eva's husband, children, and grandchildren had been able to read Broken Pieces.

I'm glad I have now. It was a painful crash-course in sympathetic, and persistent love; lessons I know I need to learn for trials that I cannot foresee. More than that, it is a portrait of living faith in a Savior whose grace is tailor-made for this broken world.

Broken Pieces is also surprisingly hopeful. Simonetta didn't gauge the eternal destiny of her schizophrenic son by placing everything she knew about him on two sides of a scale; one side positive, and the other negative. The tangibly negative experiences would have been too heavy. Instead, she saw her son as entirely in Christ; in life and in death, in body and soul, in clarity and confusion. And Jesus was more than enough to rescue a man who was so deeply broken. Our family saw that too. Grandma's schizophrenia scared us and her. But God also helped us to hope. After I read her Isaiah 53--being Jewish, this is a text from the "Bible" she was raised with--she responded: "That's talking about Jesus. I believe in him!" We didn't expect that response. But why not? We possess a shared history of God's redemption of desperately lost people. We have received God's record of mending, the backstory we all need as we share each other's burdens.

Thank you, Simonetta, for the memories, for the emotions, and for the reminder that "the Lord's hand is not shortened, that it cannot save; nor His ear heavy, that it cannot hear" (Is. 59:1).

Augustine's Theology of Preaching


From its inception, preaching has held a prominent place within the life and advance of the church. A current revival of expository ministry is being cultivated throughout the evangelical world. However, such renewed awareness and commitment to an expositional pulpit ministry has been nurtured with a notable lack of historical awareness. To help us restore such awareness, specifically from the patristic era of church history, is one purpose of Peter Sanlon's book, Augustine's Theology of Preaching [Fortress Press, July 2014; 200 pp.]. Sanlon comments on the advantage of having a historical familiarity with preaching as follows:

Learning through and from preachers in church history develops a deeper self-awareness about the practice and possibilities of preaching. Getting beyond a superficial imitation of past preachers to the timeless convictions and debates bequeaths tools and confidence for the task today.

According to Sanlon, scholarship has emphasized Augustine as the philosophical theologian, the refuter of heresy, and the contributor to doctrinal clarity, but the recognition of Augustine as a biblical preacher has been abandoned. In addressing this scarcity, Salon's timely contribution to Augustinian scholarship has been welcomed by all who are interested in developing a historical theology of preaching based on the works of this patristic theologian.

Augustine's friend, Possidius of Calama, once remarked that "those who read what Augustine has written in his works on divine subjects profit greatly, but I believe that the ones who really profited were those who actually heard him and saw him speak in church." Augustine was a virtuoso orator. The surviving corpus of Augustine's sermons is staggering, yet it likely represents only a small portion of what he actually delivered. It includes the 124 sermons of his In Johannis evangelium tractatus (Tractates on the Gospel of John) and the 10 sermons of his In epistulam Johannis ad Parthos tractatus (Tractates on the First Letter of John). It also includes his massive Enarrationes in Psalmos (Expositions of the Psalms), which preserve at least one sermon on each of the 150 Psalms. His largest collection is his Sermones ad populum (Sermons to the People). Over 500 of Augustine's sermons have been discovered and authenticated, some complete, others fragments. The painstaking work of recovering lost sermons still continues.

After an introduction presenting five areas of contemporary homiletical importance for today's preacher, Augustine's Theology of Preaching begins in chapter one with an exploration into the historical context of Augustine's preaching ministry in North Africa during the late fourth and early fifth centuries. In addition, Sanlon provides brief introductions to Ambrose, Tertullian, Cyprian, and Peter Chrysologus, showing both their influence and the differences between their preaching and that of Augustine.

Chapter two proceeds to set Augustine within an oratorical context. Sanlon investigates the impact and influence upon Augustine of antiquity's greatest orators: Gorgias, Plato, Cicero, Quintilian, and Apuleius. Beyond great oratory, Augustine came to the conviction that simple persuasion techniques were not enough to convince men to do as one asks. Instead, he believed an ultimate authority must be appealed to in order for people to acknowledge and appreciate the truth and therefore be persuaded to live by it. Augustine settled upon the ultimate authority of God's Word revealed in the Scriptures as the only sufficient means through which the truth may be revealed to the heart of man. The Word of God was Augustine's only authority throughout his life as a preacher.

In chapter three, Sanlon discusses De Doctrina Christiana (On Christian Teaching). Augustine felt his training in pagan oratory was insufficient for the event of preaching and therefore wrote a training manual to help instruct preachers in the art of holy rhetoric. Again, the Bible was Augustine's ultimate authority for this work regarding sacred rhetoric. Chapter four of Sanlon's work gives us a set of hermeneutical glasses through which we can better view Augustine's approach to preaching by defining interiority and temporality.

The final chapters move from a discussion of Augustine as a preacher and focuses upon his actual preaching. Chapters five through seven engage in an analysis of the Sermons concerning the issues of riches and money, death and resurrection, and relationships. Sanlon's goal is to have the reader see how Augustine applied interiority and temporality to scripture as he addressed the congregation of Hippo. This is not an exhaustive treatment of the Sermons, but the taste provided here may prepare the way for readers to later explore the Sermones ad Populum for themselves through the lenses provided by Sanlon.

Sanlon's work evokes a two-fold desire in its readers. The first is to investigate further the preaching ministry of one of the stalwarts of the Christian church, and the second is to seek to emulate Augustine's passion and zeal for the authority of Scripture in all of life and ministry. Augustine's preaching ministry teaches the contemporary preacher that he is not to set himself over Scripture in judgment as if to control and manage its power. Quite the contrary, the modern preacher must approach Scripture expecting that God will, first of all, address him. Augustine constantly sought out the mysteries and obscurities, "in the hope that God's surprising voice would warm his heart and motivate him to draw others into the experience of hearing God speak" (175).

Augustine's Theology of Preaching is an excellent resource for the student and preacher alike who desire to more fully understand preaching in a historical and theological context. Sanlon's understanding of the hermeneutical keys of Augustine's preaching provides fresh insight into one of the most important figures in church history. This book is not shrouded in academic nuance and is very accessible to the modern reader. Throughout, Salon examines the life of Augustine in such a way as to provide application to the contemporary preacher in both his ministry and preaching. While Augustine was an "expository" preacher, in that he took a text and provided his audience with running commentary, Salon makes clear that Augustine's greatest contribution to the current preacher is his passion and zeal for God's Word. The life and preaching ministry of Augustine is a clear reminder that the preaching of the gospel should set the world alight with passion for God.

Dustin W. Benge is a PhD candidate at The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, Louisville, KY. He is a Teaching Fellow for Reformanda Ministries and Editor of "Expositor Magazine." Dustin and his wife, Molli, live in Louisville, KY.

Contentment: Seeing God's Goodness


Do you ever think about how much we complain? We complain about the weather: too hot, too cold, too wet, too dry. We complain about our jobs: deadlines, difficult bosses, co-workers. We complain about our families: our spouses, children, in-laws. We complain about life: traffic, waiting rooms, jury duty, illness. We complain about the church: our pastors, the sermon, the music, the a/c. And politics? Well, that too.

Whether or not we're aware, we spend a lot of time complaining. Isn't it just part of being human? After all, we live in a fallen world, and life can be difficult. Our bodies get sick and hurt. Our relationships suffer. Work is hard. But is that all there is to it?

In her new book, Contentment: Seeing God's Goodness, Megan Hill reminds us that complaining or being discontent can often be a sinful response to our circumstances. Why is it sinful? It's sinful because it says we don't really trust God to take care of us. And that can start a domino effect of other sinful behaviors.

As Hill explains:

Once it takes hold of our hearts, discontent quickly leads to other sins. Because we fundamentally distrust what God is doing in and for us, our hearts give way to worry. Every new circumstance feels surprising and potentially harmful. Everything from the flu to the presidential election brings an onslaught of uncertainty. We do not believe that God is caring for us, and we have little confidence that the events in our lives will be for our good, so our minds and hearts spin with anxiety.(11)

So how do we find contentment in our sinful, fallen world? We're tempted to say, "If I just had (fill in the blank), then I'd be content." But that's not true. Like kids with new toys, even when we get what we want, before long we're right back to saying, "If I just had."

Is the answer to contentment a Zen-like detachment from the world around us? Should we just not care or attempt to be stoic and unemotional? No, as we've said, there are real pains and sorrows all around us. Consider the Psalms. David and other psalmists cried out to God in the midst of painful circumstances. Jesus was "sorrowful and troubled" (Matt 26:37) before He went to the cross.

Contentment isn't found in getting what we want or being unaffected by the world around us. It's found by trusting in the One who does not change, the One who loves us, saves us, provides for us, and cares for us. Hill writes:

The secret of contentment is not in having "enough" money (or status or relationships or education). Rather, the secret of contentment is placing our ultimate hope in something secure: The Lord will never leave us or forsake us; he is our help, so there is no reason to fear. The God who has loved us with an everlasting love (see Jer. 31:3) will continue to care for us through all the changing circumstances of our fleeting lives.(42)

Contentment is found in remembering and embracing the sovereignty of God (12). God knows our needs. But what's more, He is able and more than willing to give us what we need. God's sovereignty isn't cold or detached. He takes great delight in pouring out blessings on us:

We cannot overestimate the care that the Lord has for our bodies and our earthly circumstances. The one who knit our bodies together in the womb remembers that we are dust (see Pss. 103:14; 139:13). Out of his great love for us, he tenderly clothes, heals, prospers, and feeds us (Ps. 90:17; Matt. 6:26, 30; James 5:15). He numbers our days, the hairs of our heads, and every tear that falls from our eyes (see Ps. 56:8; 139:16; Matt. 10:30). It shouldn't be a surprise, then, that he wants us to ask him for our material needs.(53)

Hill's book, Contentment, is a 31-day devotional focusing on contentment. Each day focuses on a different aspect of contentment under a handful of headings: The Value of Contentment, Finding Contentment by Looking to Christ, Cultivating a Right Understanding of My Circumstances, Cultivating Right Desires, Cultivating a Thankful Heart, and Pursuing Contentment in Specific Circumstances. While the individual devotionals are fairly short, there is great depth in the topics covered.

What I appreciate most about Hill's writing, besides the encouragement she draws from the Scriptures, is how she draws us back to the gospel. Hill doesn't beat us down with our sin and tell us we've just got to do better. Our hope is not in ourselves, and this isn't a self-help book. Our only hope in salvation, in life, and in our search for contentment is found in Christ:

The good news of the gospel is not simply that Christ tells us how to be content but also that Christ is powerfully at work in us to bring us to contentment. The same Christ who was himself perfectly content to submit to the Father's will (see Phil. 2:5-8) is the Christ who--by his Spirit--enables us also to pursue a life of contentment.(29)

God is at work in us, and He will finish what He's begun in us (Phil 1:6). God calls us to press on (Phil 3:14). Hill's book is an excellent resource for us all as we seek to be like Christ trusting that the Spirit is at work sanctifying us and teaching us contentment.


The Foundation of the New Perspective


Admittedly the New Perspective on Paul (NPP) isn't so new anymore. As a significant scholarly hermeneutical movement, it goes back at least as far as the late 1970s with the groundbreaking work of E. P. Sanders. It goes back even further if we take into consideration the endeavors of a Montefiore and a Moore. The NPP is old enough now to have had a plethora of erudite nuanced critical responses (one thinks of Newman, Gathercole, Westerholm, Kim, Carson, Waters, and the like). As I write this review, my scanning of the web has revealed several new studies slated for forthcoming release. One of the most recent, and I would suggest, best interactions with the NPP is Robert Cara's Cracking the Foundation of the New Perspective on Paul. I believe Cara succeeds on many levels. Before I get to my assessment I want to describe what Cara has done.

Cracking the Foundation is divided into four chapters, followed by a concluding summary and an appendix on Jewish literary sources. The first chapter (19-36) is a fine introduction to the NPP and its relation to the doctrine of justification and the question which is a bug-a-bear for any serious interaction with the NPP: is it a unified movement, therefore justifying the appellation New Perspective or is the movement a conglomeration of different perspectives whose only unity is in the rejection of the traditional Lutheran and Reformed reading of Paul and the Second Temple Judaism that lay behind him? In looking at this question Dr. Cara seeks to focus his attention on E. P. (Ed) Sanders' argument that the Judaism of Paul's day was not a legalistic works-righteousness based religion but was a grace-based faith and that this perspective was nearly universal across the spectrum of views representative of Second Temple Judaism. In a nutshell, covenantal nomism is the view that one gains entrance to the people of God by election (i.e., grace) and stays in by obedience to the Law (i.e., works).

The second chapter (37-75) is devoted to providing clarifying definition (one is tempted to say the author provides 4K or Ultra HD clarification) as to what works-righteousness is and what it entails. Cara sets the two hermeneutical-theological systems of covenantal nomism and the classic Reformed bi-covenantal framework side by side. This is a wise move since there is some formal similarity between the two views that could be and indeed has been confused for substantial agreement. The author first looks at classic Reformed covenant theology with its covenant of works and covenant of grace and the traditional distinction between uses of the Law (specifically the second and third uses of the Law involving the Law as schoolmaster which leads us to Christ and the Law as a guide to the Christian life) and Cara concludes the first half of this chapter with the burning question about the final judgement and justification and their relationship to one another. Cara is to be commended for his clarity of expression and explanations of what can be very technical material. The second half of the chapter is devoted to the history of the covenantal nomism idea in the work of Sanders and his precursors (C. G. Montefiore, George Foote Moore, and Krister Stendahl) and successors (specifically James D. G. Dunn and Nicholas Thomas [Tom]Wright). The author then delineates the features of covenantal nomism and offers an initial critique. At the very least, these two systems of thought are neither identical nor similar. To use somewhat anachronistic systematic terms (which are nevertheless very accurate), Second Temple Judaism, variegated as it really was, included at least semi-Pelagian sentiments. Neither full-scale Pelagianism nor semi-Pelagianism are healthy or biblical.

The third chapter (77-125) involves an examination of a variety of Jewish literary sources more or less influential in Paul's time and his Jewish world. The author recommends readers unfamiliar with the literature to read the appendix on the Jewish sources before delving into the third chapter and that makes solid sense. The appendix (207-272) provides not only a helpful survey of the kinds of literature deriving from the Second Temple period, but it offers principles of evaluation and assessment. At the very least we readers can gain insight into the author's method of evaluating the multitude of literary sources he sifts through. An example is whether a given text is reflective of Pharisaical thinking in Paul's day or whether it reflects later developments. It is not as simple as dating the text proper, but also ascertaining whether the theology expressed reflects an earlier age. Getting back to the third chapter, Cara looks at texts from the Apocrypha, the OT Pseudepigrapha, the Dead Sea Scrolls, and Rabbinic literature (the Mishnah, Tosefta, and Talmud, etc). Cara demonstrates that at least some within the Second Temple Jewish period expressed a works-righteousness orientation.

The fourth chapter (127-195) provides a look at works-righteousness in the so-called "Deutero-Pauline" books (books which Cara rightly believes really were authored by the Apostle Paul but which many critical scholars, including NPP writers, believe were not written by Paul but perhaps by disciples of Paul. These books, usually ignored in studies on Paul in the NPP literature, include Second Thessalonians, Ephesians, Colossians, First and Second Timothy, and Titus. Because these texts are bypassed in both constructing a Pauline biblical theology and then assessing what problems Paul had with the Judaism of his day, Cara sees the necessity of giving them their due. Specifically, Cara puts Ephesians 2:8-10, Titus 3:4-7, and Second Timothy 1:8-10 under the microscope. Before offering his own assessment of the substance of these passages, he reviews the perspective of three non-NPP scholars on these texts (I. Howard Marshall, Michael Walter, and John M. G. Barclay). Having closely examined these passages Cara concludes that these three texts clearly address the problem of works-righteousness in the world of the Apostle Paul. Following his own exegesis of these texts, the author looks at the assessment of these passages by Sanders, Dunn, and Wright. Cara concludes the chapter by offering critiques of these scholars on these texts. As Cara rightly notes, even if you think these books were not authored by Paul, you would still need to account for such a clear misunderstanding of Paul by his disciples at such an early date.

Dr. Cara concludes with a summary of his work (197-205). This is extremely helpful since it would be quite easy to lose the forest for all the trees. We are reminded that E. P. Sanders offered his covenantal nomistic reading of Second Temple Judaism as an all-pervasive gracious pattern of religion. Cara rehearses the ground that has been covered in this book and concludes that some, at least, within the fold of Second Temple Judaism did express a works-righteousness orientation. This undermines Sanders' thesis about the gracious nature of covenantal nomism. Sanders, as others have pointed out, fails to reckon with the idea of grace assisting a sinner rather than raising the spiritually dead to life. It also undermines the nearly universal extent of this pattern of religion. If there were elements within Second Temple Judaism that did embrace works-righteousness then the classic Lutheran and Reformed reading of Paul (the so-called "old perspective on Paul") has no need of revision and the foundation of the whole NPP enterprise is revealed to be called into question. It turns out that Paul was addressing perennial issues that never seem to die away. It is part and parcel of fallen human nature to try to find acceptance with God based upon our own works-righteousness (i.e., merit).

Robert J. Cara succeeds at making his case on at least three levels. One, he writes with crystal clear prose. The style is both straightforward and elegant. Profound scholars do not always make the best and clearest writers. Writing like this is deceptively simple. What one finds easy to read was most assuredly not easy to write. Two, Cara focuses his attention on the Sanders' covenantal nomism thesis and therefore sets aside otherwise interesting and tempting bunny trails. The NPP movement is wide and varied and it would take and indeed has taken multitudes of tomes to address it. At the end of the day what unites the disparate NPP scholars is the mere rejection of the old Protestant perspective on Paul. Third, the author marshals the incriminating evidence that there were in fact people and groups within Second Temple Judaism that held to a works-righteousness religion. To defeat Sanders' thesis Cara did not have to demonstrate that all sects within Second Temple Judaism were works-righteousness oriented. All he needed to do, and this he handily did, was to show that at least one sect or group held to a legalistic works-based faith. The foundation of the whole NPP enterprise is on shaky ground. This is not to say that everything any NPP scholar has written is worthless (that is patently false and absurd), but that the driving premise of the NPP is misdirected. Cara has produced a work of surpassing worth and will no doubt be the standard work on the topic for many years to come.

Echoes of Scripture in the Gospels


One does not have to preach, teach, or even read the New Testament for long in order to discover how steeped its authors are in the Old Testament. The OT surfaces on virtually every page of the NT. It serves a range of purposes, whether for witness to unbelief or for the instruction and guidance of the church. And it speaks with divine authority - like the NT, it is the very word of God.

One salutary trend in the last generation of the academic study of the NT has been a growing estimation of the place and importance of the OT to the NT. Students of the NT increasingly appreciate the degree to which the OT is woven into the warp and woof of the NT message. To attempt to read the NT independently of the OT is to misread the NT.

A pioneer in this branch of recent scholarship is Richard Hays, the George Washington Ivey Professor of New Testament at Duke Divinity School in Durham, NC. His Echoes of Scripture in the Letters of Paul (1989) invigorated the study of the apostle Paul's use of the OT. His recent release, Echoes of Scripture in the Gospels (2016), promises to do the same for the Four Gospels.

The substance of ESG consists of four chapters detailing the method and practice of each of the Four Evangelists in handling the Old Testament. Introductory and concluding chapters frame these four chapters. Although brief, these two chapters set forth the principles and methods that inform the book as a whole. As such, they merit particular attention.

Two terms characterize Hays' understanding of the Evangelists' handling of the OT writings. The first is "figuration." The Gospels evidence what Hays, following Erich Auerbach, terms "figural interpretation." What is "figural interpretation"? It is a correspondence between "two events or persons" that "can be discerned only after the second event has occurred and imparted a new pattern of significance to the first" (3). Hays distances figuration from "prediction" - "figural reading of the Bible need not presume that the OT authors - or the characters that they narrate - were conscious of predicting or anticipating Christ" (2, cf. 359). Positively, the NT writers engage in the practice of what Hays terms "reading backwards." In light of the redemptive and revelatory work of Christ in his death and resurrection, the NT writers "retrospectively" read or "reinterpret" the OT in "transformati[ve]" ways (358). The conviction that Jesus is Israel's Messiah and that he was crucified and raised from the dead comes to define, characterize and distinguish Christian readings of the OT from all other readings of the NT.

The second term that characterizes Hays' understanding of the Gospel writers' engagement of the OT is "metalepsis." Metalepsis is "a literary technique of citing or echoing a small bit of a precursor text in such a way that the reader can grasp the significance of the echo only by recalling or recovering the original context from which the fragmentary echo came and then reading the two texts in dialogical juxtaposition" (11). Metalepsis is hardly unique to the biblical writers. It surfaces in other literature, classical music, and even popular film and music.1 It is a technique that the NT writers use to great effect. They may employ it at multiple levels -when, for instance, they quote the OT, allude to the OT, or echo the OT ("quotations" are "introduced by a citation formula or ... feature the verbatim reproduction of an extended chain of words...;" "allusions" either "imbed several words from the precursor text" or "explicitly mention notable characters or events;" an "echo" is "a word or phrase that evokes, for the alert reader, a reminiscence of an earlier text," 10). As importantly, metalepsis serves the NT writers' greater end of explicating the person and work of Jesus Christ with reference to the Scriptures of the OT. OT quotations, allusions, and echoes, whether they are expressly metaleptic or not, are the brushes and oils with which the NT authors paint the portrait of Christ in their writings.

How does Hays see each Evangelist turning to the OT in order to craft his particular portrait of Christ? Hays shows how each Gospel engages the OT in order to tell the story of Israel, Jesus, and the church. Mark handles Scripture in a way that, "like his narrative style more generally, is indirect and allusive" (98). There are comparatively fewer citations in Mark than in other Gospels - "Mark for the most part works his narrative magic through hints and allusions" (ibid.). If this is Mark's narrative technique, what, then, is the narrative or story that Mark tells? As the curtain rises on the Gospel, Mark understands "Israel still under exile," requiring nothing less than "divine intervention" for her "deliverance" (16). John the Baptist's sudden appearance at the beginning of Mark heralds both impending eschatological judgment (Mark 1:2-3 and Mal 3:1 [LXX]) and a new exodus (Mark 1:2-3 and Exod 23:20 [LXX]). The one who will bring this restoration is not John but Jesus, whose death, Mark underscores, "stands in direct continuity with God's covenant with Israel" (Mark 14:24-25 and Exod 24:8, Zech 9:11) (35,36). Lamentably, the Jewish leaders' blindness and resistance to Jesus not only signifies that they are under divine judgment, but also serves to bring Jesus to the cross (44). Jesus' parable of the Tenants (Mark 12:1-12), however, deftly engages multiple OT texts (Isa 5:1-7, Gen 22:2, Gen 37:20 LXX, Psa 118:22-23) to point to the vindication of Jesus and the restoration of the people of God (ibid.).

Mark's portrait of Jesus is inexplicable apart from his handling of the OT. Precisely in referencing many passages from the OT, Mark presents Jesus as Davidic king, the Son of Man, the Crucified Messiah, and the God of Israel. Mark, for instance, affirms "Jesus' identity with the one God of Israel" not "explicitly" but precisely "through riddle-like allusions to the Old Testament" (62), such as Isa 40:3, 9-10 in Mark 1:2-3; Psa 107:23-32, Job 38:8-11, Psa 89:9, Psa 106:8-12, Isa 51:9-11, and Psa 44:23 in Mark 4:35-41; and Jer 8:13 in Mark 11:12-14.

Mark also crafts the church's identity with reference to the OT. Mark 13, with multiple echoes of Daniel, Isaiah, and Joel, sets the church's persecution in the context of the "time of crisis that precedes God's final saving action and restoration of justice" (91). The opening lines of Mark (1:1-3), in their echoes of Psa 2:7, and Isa 64:1, 40:15, 17, serve, with other texts in Mark, to characterize the church as "a community that owes ultimate allegiance to God," not Caesar (94). The church, furthermore, has a call to bear witness to Jesus Christ before the nations - a matter less stated than presupposed in Mark, not least in his engagement with the OT (Mark 11:17 with Isa 56:17; Mark 13:10 with Isa 2:2-4; Mark 15:39 with Mark 1:11 and Psa 2:7).

We may offer briefer synopses of the ways in which Hays sees Matt, Luke, and John presenting Israel, Christ, and the church by way of engagement with the OT. Like Mark, Matthew depicts Israel's history, at the opening of his Gospel, in terms of an exile poised to conclude through Jesus. For Matthew, Jesus brings Israel's story to a conclusion as he "embodies the radical covenant obedience that God has already desired of his people" and "gathers around himself a new community within Israel" (139). Matthew shares Mark's conviction that Jesus is one with the God of Israel, expressing it explicitly (1:23, 28:20). Matthew, furthermore, gives Jesus' identity "Israeological specification," even as Jesus brings fulfillment to "Israel's story" (139). That is to say, Matthew's account of Jesus' suffering and triumph echoes the history and experiences not only of the nation, but also of such leading figures of the nation as Moses, David, and Solomon. Since Matthew understands the OT to be a "narrative of God's mercy [that] embrace[s] the Gentiles," the people of God will not only contain Gentiles but be commissioned to go into the world to make disciples of the nations (175).

If Matthew characteristically understands the OT in terms of predictions that find their fulfillment in Christ, then Luke understands the OT in terms of promises that find their fulfillment in Christ, a point especially emphasized in the opening chapters and in the concluding chapter of his Gospel (192, 193). Luke, furthermore, prefers "implicit correspondences, suggested through the literary devices of allusion and echo," the cumulative effect of which is to "create a narrative world thick with scriptural memory" (193). Luke understands Israel in need of "liberation" from "captivity to oppressive powers" (195). She is in need of a new Exodus, and it is Jesus, the Divine Redeemer, who has come to accomplish that work. Luke draws from the OT in order to show that the redeemed people of God must assume a posture of "confrontation" against the "power of empire" and of "revelation to the Gentile world" (265).

John shares the Synoptics' conviction that one must "read backwards" and so "reinterpret Scripture in light of a new revelation imparted by Jesus and focused on the person of Jesus himself" (283, emphasis original). But John differs from the Synoptics in an important respect. While John does cite, allude to, and echo the OT, his "intertextual sensibility is more visual than auditory" (284). John prefers selected "images and figures from Israel's Scripture" to shine light on the identity of Jesus (ibid., emphasis removed). Consequently, Israel, her festivals, law, and history constitute the "symbolic matrix for [John's] portrayal of Jesus" (289). For this reason, Hays notes, "it is hard to distinguish the Evangelist's interpretation of Israel from his interpretation of Jesus" (ibid.). In like fashion, John represents the people of God in two leading images with deep roots in the OT - a vine and a flock of sheep. Significantly, both images further illumine the Vine and the Good Shepherd to whom the church belongs (343).

No survey can do justice either to the encyclopedic scope of ESG or the complexities of its exegetical engagement with hundreds of passages from the Gospels (and the OT). What about ESG commends it to the reader as meriting careful study and reflection? We may point to three strengths of the work. First, ESG provides readers with a helpful conceptual and terminological apparatus to reflect with care and precision on the use of the OT in the Gospels. While "figuration" and "metalepsis" may not be household terms, these terms endeavor to capture precisely how the Evangelists read the OT. Acknowledging the distinction among quotation, allusion, and echo proves helpful to readers of the Gospels in ascertaining the "volume" of an OT engagement in any given passage of the Gospels. Hays will occasionally alert readers to a particularly "low volume" engagement. After arguing for an echo of 2 Kings in Luke 24:31, he appends a disclaimer. "This proposed reading of a hypothetical faint echo goes far beyond anything that can be ascribed with any degree of confidence to Luke's authorial intention," not withstanding the "unexpected satisfactions" that "the linkage yields" (242). Hays, then, commendably exercises a measure of restraint in advancing this reading. Whether or not readers agree with his assessment of this (or any other) text, ESG provides them the tools with which to make informed exegetical judgments.

A second strength of ESG is its individual attention to the ways in which each Evangelist interprets the OT. While the Gospel authors share a body of core convictions about the person and work of Christ and the OT's relation to Christ, these convictions come to expression in distinct ways in the Four Gospels. Hays helpfully highlights the ways in which Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John characteristically relate the OT to Christ - Mark's indirect and elusive engagement of the OT; Matthew's preference for prediction and fulfillment; Luke's emphasis upon promise and fulfillment in the context of a grand and global narrative; John's visually oriented selection of images from Scripture that highlight the unique identity of Jesus Christ. Awareness of these patterns will not only assist one to be a more careful reader and expositor of this portion of the canon, but also help one to appreciate the breadth and reach of the ways in which Christ brings the OT to fulfillment.

A third strength of ESG is its strong emphasis upon the deity of Christ as a central message of each of the Four Gospels. Higher critical scholarship has long been dismissive of historic Christianity's insistence that the NT teaches that Jesus Christ is the eternal Son of God. Among the Gospels, Hays observes, Mark and Luke are "usually thought to have the 'lowest' or most 'primitive' Christologies" (363). It is refreshing, then, to see Hays, writing from within and to historical critical scholarship, argue that that the Four Gospels bear united and unambiguous testimony to the full deity of Christ. Hays does not merely argue this point from such express statements as those of John 1:1, 18. Rather, he primarily argues this point from the ways in which the Evangelists handle the OT in relation to Jesus. When one properly grasps the web of OT interactions evident in Mark 6:45-52, for instance, it is difficult to deny that Mark is calling his readers to understand Jesus' identity with the God of Israel (70-73). Hays patiently demonstrates that the quantity and volume of such evidence vindicates the historic church's longstanding understanding of the NT's testimony to the deity of Jesus Christ.

Reformed and evangelical readers will, at points, find themselves in disagreement with ESG. Even here, however, ESG provokes its readers to reflect carefully upon important dimensions of the study of the Gospels' engagement with the OT. We may take up one such matter that sits near to the center of ESG.

Hays insists that the Gospel writers engage in the practice of "reading backwards." That is to say, the NT writers read the OT retrospectively. Convinced that Jesus is Israel's Messiah, the Son of God, crucified and raised for the sinners, the NT writers scour the OT to discern instances in which the OT writers prefigure Christ. Hays terms this practice "revelatory retrospective reading" (259). Hays alternately characterizes the resultant interpretations of the OT in terms of transformation, transfiguration, and continuation (in distinction from the "negation or rejection" of the OT, 363). Hays insists that the patterns that emerge on the pages of the Gospels evidence "a divinely crafted pattern of coherence within the events and characters of the biblical narratives" (359, emphasis removed). Thus, not "human intentionality" but "the mysterious providence of God" accounts for the correspondences, whether on the micro- or macro- level.

In advancing these claims, Hays is concerned not to insist that the process works in reverse. "Figural reading of the Bible need not presume that the Old Testament authors - or the characters that they narrate - were conscious of predicting or anticipating Christ" (2). More polemically, Hays distances himself from the claim that "the authors of the Old Testament's narratives and poems actually did intentionally forecast the details of Jesus' life" (359).

Hays accurately claims and demonstrates that the NT writers testify to their own insensibility prior to the resurrection to the ways in which the OT comes to fulfillment in Christ (see John 2:22, Luke 24:22-27). He is correct to say that the cross and resurrection of Christ were redemptive and revelatory events, and that, in light of this new revelation in Christ, the disciples in community read earlier revelation with new eyes, as it were.

But the NT writers suggest that there is a connection deeper still between earlier and later revelation. To take an example from the companion volume to Luke's Gospel, Peter in his Pentecost sermon, after citing David's words in Psalm 16 (Acts 2:25-28), says of David, "Brothers I may say to you with confidence about the patriarch David that he both died and was buried, and his tomb is with us to this day. Being therefore a prophet, and knowing that God had sworn with an oath to him that he would set one of his descendants on his throne, he foresaw and spoke about the resurrection of the Christ, that he was not abandoned to Hades, nor did his flesh see corruption. This Jesus God raised up, and of that we are all witnesses" (Act 2:29-32). Peter is saying that David, in his capacity as a prophet, spoke in advance of the resurrection of Christ. Peter would later say something similar of all OT prophets - "concerning this salvation, the prophets who prophesied about the grace that was to be yours searched and inquired carefully, inquiring what person or time the Spirit of Christ in them was indicating when he predicted the sufferings of Christ and the subsequent glories" (1 Pet 1:10-11).

It is for this reason that, when Paul entered the synagogues of Judea and the broader Mediterranean world, he made a point of proving or demonstrating from the Scriptures that Jesus was the Messiah (Acts 9:22, 17:2-3, cf. 18:28). That is to say, Christians could and did publicly advance the claim to unbelievers from the OT that Jesus was the Messiah, and that by way of rational demonstration. Surely this project was only feasible if these Christian believers were convinced that their convictions resided in the OT text itself and were capable of demonstration or proof independently of one's commitment to Jesus of Nazareth.

The NT writers, to be sure, are largely silent concerning the degree to which the OT authors were aware and conscious of the One to whom they were pointing. They are generally content to affirm that the OT authors pointed to Christ. The NT writers are more concerned to insist that the project of "reading backwards" is a possible undertaking only because of the organic and progressive character of biblical revelation. This character of revelation offers a ready explanation why the NT writers are not doing violence to the text of the OT, much less the intention of the human authors of the OT. None of this is to say that Hays affirms that the Gospels' readings of the OT are violent or contingent. It is to say that "reading backwards" at best only partly accounts for the manner in which the Evangelists read and explained the OT.

ESG is sure to set a new standard for the study of the Old Testament in the Gospels, and deservedly so. For those who are seeking both clarity in how to read the OT along with the authors of the Gospels, and insight into the particular ways in which the Evangelists handled dozens of text of OT Scripture, ESG will not disappoint. On those occasions when readers dissent from ESG, they will nevertheless find ESG a stimulating and worthwhile conversation partner. Thoughtful readers cannot but emerge from ESG with a conceptually clearer grasp of the ways in which the Gospels handle the OT. And since the authors of the Gospels take us to the OT precisely in order to take us to Jesus Christ, the effort expended in reading and reflecting upon ESG will be well spent.

Guy Prentiss Waters 
James M. Baird, Jr. Professor of New Testament 
Reformed Theological Seminary Jackson, MS   

1. To offer but two recent examples of the latter - the Coen brothers' film, O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000) consciously and repeatedly echoes Homer's Odyssey; Beyoncé's "Hold Up" (2016) similarly samples the Andy Williams' 1963 hit, "Can't Get Used To Losing You." One may understand each modern work while ignorant of its earlier quoted material. But knowing and appreciating the quoted material enriches and lends depth to one's understanding of the newer work.


A Review of Robert D. Putnam and David Campbell's

American Grace: How Religion Divides and Unites Us


"King Solomon, however, loved many foreign women besides Pharaoh's daughter.... As Solomon grew old, his wives turned his heart after other gods, and his heart was not fully devoted to the Lord his God, as the heart of David his father had been." (1 Kings 11: 1, 4)


Relationships matter, for they shape our loves and our loves direct our lives.


This is the primary conclusion of Harvard professor Robert D. Putnam in his massive study (550 pages) of American religion, American Grace: How Religion Divides and Unites Us. Every several years there is a must read book about the state of American religion. James Davison Hunter's To Change the World and Robert Putnam's American Grace are two that fit this description.


Scholarship is sometimes viewed as thinly veiled biography. Putnam and his co-writer David Campbell's life stories reflect many of the book's conclusions. Putnam was raised in an observant Methodist home, but later converted to Judaism at marriage. His children were raised as Jews. Putnam is best known for his book on social trust, Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community (2001). Campbell was raised a Mormon after his mother converted from Catholicism. His Protestant father eventually converted to Mormonism as well. The authors' life stories reflect the "religious churn" that is so common in American religion, a churn that is the central theme of the book.


American Grace is largely a statistical study of the changes in American religion over the past fifty years. Illustrating the points being made analytically through survey research are descriptive congregational vignettes. For a study of its kind, the book is extremely readable, filled with interesting nuggets and factoids, and sweeping in its scope and conclusions. Its focus is predominately U.S., but its analysis has relevance to the entire North American religious scene. His central question is "How can religious pluralism coexist with religious polarization?"


Putnam finds little decline in levels of American religiosity. "In terms of private religious behavior one finds virtually the same rock-steady levels of religiosity" (71). Unlike Hunter, he uses aggregate individual statistics and does not discuss the institutional social location or cultural capital these religious beliefs or believers have in public life. Hunter might retort that even if individual religious fervor is high, its social location has radically shifted from the past as religion today is being treated as a kind of personal hobby.


Putnam uses a seismic metaphor to frame his analysis: an earthquake with two major aftershocks. The earthquake was the Sixties. "The Sixties represented a perfect storm for American institutions of all sorts -- political, social, sexual, and religious" (91).

The first aftershock began in the 1980s with an upturn in religiosity characterized by the alignment of religiosity and conservative politics. To Putnam, the rise of the Religious Right was a cultural aftershock stemming from the upheaval of the Sixties.


This in turn was met with another aftershock beginning in the 1990s and 2000s where young Americans became disaffected from religion because of its political orientation. This reaction is clearly described in David Kinnaman and Gabe Lyons' Unchristian: What a New Generation Really Thinks About Christianity. "Young Americans," reports Putnam, "came to view religion as judgmental, homophobic, hypocritical, and too political" (121). The consequence of this second aftershock is a large disaffection of young Americans from religion. Today 20 to 30% of post-boomers identify themselves as religious nones (123). The distinguishing characteristic of these new nones among the millennials after 1991 is their stance on homosexuality.


This is the big picture framework of the analysis: an earthquake with two aftershocks. This recent alignment between religion and partisan politics is historically unique, though it is an experience that has characterized the entire lives of post-boomer youths. "Religiosity has partisan overtones now that it did not have in the past. While there are exceptions, the most highly religious Americans are likely to be Republicans; Democrats predominate among those who are least religious" (369). Saying grace at meals corresponds highly to partisanship, he finds. "The creation of a new coalition of the religious represents a major change in the foundation of the American political system," and the God gap is widest for those under the age of 35 (377).


Religiously fueled partisanship is historically a dangerous mixture. Sociologist James Davison Hunter suggests that culture wars can become much more volatile in his Before the Shooting Begins (1994). Europe's Wars of Religion loom large in the collective memory. Putnam claims that this is not a likely danger in America. First, Putnam sees the current religious coalition unraveling in the coming years as the issues that fueled it wane in importance: specifically, homosexuality is becoming accepted by most Americans while attitudes toward abortion are being met with ambivalence. Putnam sees these partisan issues losing their galvanizing force. The guns are being holstered.


However, there is an even more pervasive reason Putnam believes partisanship will decline and that is due to the everyday lived experience of pluralism. The high degree of intermarriage, consumer attitudes toward religious choosing, the growing religious diversity of one's immediate social networks have tended to mute religious conflict in America. In short, lived experience has trumped theological boundaries. Americans continue to be religious, but the sharp edges, particularly absolute attitudes of exclusivity, have been worn off. This is in Putnam's mind America's saving grace. "When American's associate with people of religions other than their own -- or with people with no religion at all -- they become more accepting of other religions" (547). The impact of Solomon's wives comes readily to mind.


These finding may be a comfort to Harvard public policy professionals, but they are hardly a comfort for orthodox believers. It is an indictment more than an encouragement to the church. American Christianity has never been very belief oriented. In general, theological rigor, comprehension, and concern for it have declined since the early 19th century. Religious conviction has become a consumer choice riddled with expressive individualism and couched as therapeutic self-help -- the church of Oprah.


In large measure, the evangelical church has served as an accelerant to these tendencies. "The United States has conservatives aplenty, but it lacks traditionalists, if for no other reason than so many religious conservatives are the inventors of new forms of religious practices" (162). Hip and relevant, evangelicals have simply followed the 1980s over-reliance on politics and now the 2000s tendency to live and let live. The immediate cost outlined in this study is the loss of the coming generation. Putnam finds that the retention rate of religious nones is higher than that of all major religious traditions. Church members are not passing on their faith to their children.


Another sobering finding is that while high-octane rhetoric has been devoted to the issue of same-sex marriage, an issue relevant to only a small faction of the U.S. population (the CDC reports about 2-3%, while researchers at the University of California put the number of homosexuals in America as low as 1.7%), meanwhile huge shifts have taken place on attitudes toward sex before marriage -- what the Bible calls fornication. "The best evidence is that the fraction of all Americans believing that premarital sex was 'not wrong' doubled from 24% to 47% in the four years between 1969 and 1973 and then drifted upward through the 1970s to 62% in 1982" (92). Today attitudes toward sexuality are the best indicator of church attendance. It appears that many in the church have taken their eye off a far more pervasive problem among a far larger number of Americans.


So Putnam's cheery "faith without fanaticism" may play well in Boston and in the halls of academia, but in many quarters it sounds closer to "faith without truth" and is a sobering assessment of the integrity of American religious belief and practice.


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Used here by permission of Dr. John Seel.


John Seel is a cultural renewal entrepreneur investing in people and projects that foster human flourishing and the common good. Dr. Seel interest in culture began as the son of medical missionaries in South Korea. John has his doctorate in American Studies from the University of Maryland (College Park).


John is also the president of nCore Media, a high tech start-up that provides supercomputing solutions to the entertainment industry for special effects and CGI rendering ( nCore Media is based in Los Angeles, CA.

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