Yes, I know that the Bible is God’s revelation of Himself to man these days. Yes, I know that some maintain that the Bible can be read and understood by anyone. (I suppose, excepting those who speak a language to which the Bible has not been translated. Or people who have not been trained to read. Or people who are mentally challenged and can’t read. Or small children.)

But surely no reasonable person can maintain that God reveals everything about Himself in scripture, or that everything in scripture is crystal clear, or that every conclusion a person can draw from scripture can be relied upon with absolute certainty.

(Oh, wait. Maybe I’d better go back and review the comments from my last post.)

So let me put it this way: I don’t know anyone who can answer all of God’s questions to Job. I don’t know anyone who knows the exact time and date of Jesus’ return. I don’t know anyone who knows for absolute certainty what heaven is like or the biological characteristics of the resurrected body or the complete and literal story of angels, Satan, hell or judgment.

I have to conclude that there are a lot of things that scripture hints at, but does not fully describe; a lot of things it mentions, but does not go into detail about.

And if we believe that God’s Holy Spirit inspired scripture and perhaps even had a hand in the selection of materials in its canon … then we probably believe that God reveals in it, yet also conceals.

If so … why would He do this?

Let me offer a few possible reasons:

1. The nature of faith. Faith is not fact (Hebrews 11:1). In His wisdom, God has decided that people who have not seen yet have believed are blessed (John 20:29). Those who believe are recipients of a promise (Acts 16:31; Romans 10:9).
2. Our need to recognize God’s superiority. It makes us humble and brings penitence (Job 42:1-6; Isaiah 55:7-8) to realize that we cannot understand everything that God understands.
3. Our need recognize our own inferiority compared to God. The fact is, there are things God does and knows that we simply can’t understand (Ecclesiastes 11:5; 1 Kings 8:39; Matthew 9:4; John 5:42).
4. Our tendency to become conceited when much is revealed to us (2 Corinthians 12:17). Especially when we need to be humble (Romans 12:3) as Christ humbled Himself (Philippians 2).
5. It is good for us to wonder about what is not revealed and meditate on it (Psalm 119:27 – see the entire chapter; Psalm 145:5; 2 Corinthians 3:18). There is blessing in doing so (Psalm 1).
6. God wants us to ask for His help in understanding. There was no bound, collected Bible in the first century – nor for several centuries to come. There was never an indication in scripture that scripture alone was or ever would be the only way in which He reveals Himself. He promises to give us His Holy Spirit when we ask (Luke 11:13) and obey (Acts 5:32), and among the Spirit’s gifts are to aid in understanding (John 14:26), expression (1 Corinthians 12:13), and integrity of memory (2 Timothy 1:13-14). Jesus deliberately concealed some of His teaching in parables and intentionally waited for His disciples to ask their meaning (Luke 8). Was He withholding information? Only from those who didn’t ask.
7. God wants us to ask for the community of others in understanding. An Ethiopian reading prophetic scripture was asked by Philip if he understood. His answer: “How can I, unless someone explains to me?” (Acts 8:30-31ff). Sharing understanding of scripture was to be part of gathered worship (1 Corinthians 14:29-31). We should instruct one another (Romans 15:14).
8. God wants us to be discerning. That doesn’t mean that all knowledge and wisdom is handed to us, literally, word-for-word; but that — in addition to asking for help from His Spirit and from community of others who want to learn — we work for it and the labor adds value to what we discern. As a result of yearning and discerning (as opposed to shrugging and mocking), knowledge comes more easily (Proverbs 14:6). It speaks of our respect for Him (Proverbs 1:7).
9. God wants us to understand that knowledge isn’t everything. In 1 Corinthians 8:1, Paul said it this way: ” … We know that ‘We all possess knowledge.’ But knowledge puffs up while love builds up.” In chapter 13, he will explain how absolutely vital love is: “… where there is knowledge, it will pass away. … these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”

This last possible reason — to me — is perhaps the most deeply resonant one.

I’ve blogged before (Sunday Morning in a Garden) about the principle John communicates in saying on that blessed resurrection day:

Finally the other disciple, who had reached the tomb first, also went inside. He saw and believed.  (They still did not understand from Scripture that Jesus had to rise from the dead.)

~ John 20:8-9

They saw and believed … even though they didn’t understand the scripture.

That is still possible for us: to believe even though we don’t fully understand every detail about God from scripture, or even about scripture itself. It is not by our level of understanding that we are judged; or by the accuracy of our interpretation that we are saved.

It is by grace through faith (Romans 5:2; Ephesians 2:8).

I’ve become convinced that certainty about what everything means in the Bible is a trap and a lie and the slipperiest slope ever.

Because it depends so heavily on the power of human reasoning.

And it usually doesn’t ask the Holy Spirit for help.

Certainty about everything in the Bible is, for some, absolutely necessary or their doctrine can become contaminated with uncertainty and their works found sinful because they did not — in every instance — rightly divide the word, and felt that somehow the intellect God gave them was a guarantee that they could and should and a command that they must.

That’s one of the dangers of seeing a command behind every period in every sentence of scripture, you see.

And I’m exaggerating, of course, for the value of emphasis — and please don’t take me to task for it as if no one on the “certainty” side of the argument has ever done that.

But let’s face it, when we lean on our own understanding … when we fail to ask for the Holy Spirit because we’ve convinced ourselves that He’s no longer given and wouldn’t help if He still were … when we become addicted to the adrenalin rush of certainty plus the power it brings over others ….

… we’ve gotten ourselves into a mess of trouble.

We’ve become self-reliant … authoritative … superior … judgmental … arrogant.

— when by contrast Jesus asks the believer to be reliant on Him, on His authority, on His superiority, on His judgment, on His humility.

Not everything in scripture is a command.

Nor is everything in scripture crystal-clear. Not every prophecy and mystery is self-explaining to the superior intellect.

If it were, then the humbly-blest (pathetic souls like me who can barely think their way out of a cardboard box) would be locked out of the gates of heaven for their ignorance and inability to decode God’s hidden agenda in scripture. Not because they didn’t obey; but because they didn’t obey everything they couldn’t understand.

Wow. That sounds really fair of God to damn the stupid.

Which leads me to believe that, when we rely on our own certainty instead of God’s, it’s because we’ve chosen to have a view of God that makes Him psychologically warped, secretive, vindictive, and condemnatory above all — while proclaiming Himself to be loving, kind, forgiving, merciful and just.

That’s where atheists go. They choose not to believe in Him because they don’t want to, and that’s the way they describe Him.

What does it say about the believer who chooses to believe in Him being that way?

Far too much of what we’ve been certain about are interpretations of scripture, conclusions drawn from it, based entirely on human logic that turns out to be fundamentally flawed under close inspection.

But there is one thing we can hang our hats (and souls) on — and should, and must:

God is who He says He is.

There are mysteries in scripture which He chose not to reveal in plain language — truths He reserves unto Himself, until the time He chooses to reveal them (and Himself) and in the way He chooses as well.

Even Jesus did not know the day and the hour.

Paul did not have instructions from the Lord on some issues.

There are things that angels long to look into.

You can be certain of it. You can be certain of what He says. You can be certain that He means what He says.

You can be certain that if you use even your best human logic to try to Sherlock out what He meant to not say, you will fail.

You can also be certain of this: reliance on self to be smart enough, good enough and by-golly-people-like-you-enough to earn your place in heaven is always going to fail.

Gnosis was never meant to be your god.

Certainty was never meant to be your god.

But what your God wants you to be certain about, He makes abundantly clear in scripture and His  words require no interpretation, no conclusions drawn, no human doctrine created to defend or explain.

They say what He means.

No more.

No less.

So don’t add. Don’t subtract. Don’t multiply or even divide them to the point where they no longer make His sense.

Ask for help. Ask for the gift of discernment given through the Holy Spirit. It just might be given.

If God loves us, He will tell us what we need to know.

But understand ahead of time that sometimes the scroll is meant to be eaten, and sometimes the words are sealed up for another time.

I’m certain of that.

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Syndey Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 19,000 times in 2011. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 7 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

Because, as I’m sure you know, I take these things pretty seriously.

Uh, what’s the point?

Closed-minded debate is what takes place between one or more contestants with no intention of changing point-of-view on the subject at hand.

While it may afford some entertainment for the participants and/or spectator-lurkers, of what real value is it?

It’s kind of like idling an engine for a few hours just to generate heat. No actual work gets done; no real result accrues from it.

How do you recognize when closed-minded debate is taking place? (Especially if you happen to be involved, and of the open-minded variety?)

• The closed-minded debater will not concede any point. After all, he is right; why should he?
• The closed-minded debater will insist on framing the issue/wording the question. This is to her advantage.
• The closed-minded debater will frame the issue / word the question in personal terms if possible. This is to his advantage, as it opens to the door to personal attack as a diversion.
• The closed-minded debater will make use of diversions frequently when unable to respond logically and accurately to a point made by her opponent.
• The closed-minded debater will divert to side issues (relevant or not) in order to lengthen the discussion. (Some dogs bark because they like to hear the sound of their own voices. My neighbor has one.)
• The closed-minded debater will show no interest in learning; learning is not the point. The closed-minded debater will show no interest in consensus; consensus is not the point. Winning is paramount. After all, he is right; why should he show such interest in collaboration with someone who is wrong?
• The closed-minded debater will only recognize authorities and commentators who agree with her, and will discredit (substantively or not, usually not) those referenced by her opponent.
• The closed-minded debater will only be able to see facts and citations of authorities one way, the way presently seen, and no other possibilities.
• The closed-minded debater will accuse his opponent: of evading, of illogic, of intellectual dishonesty. After all, she is right; why shouldn’t she?
• The closed-minded debater will frequently take offense at comments made with no intention of offending. This establishes power and calls into question his opponent’s character and therefore (ostensibly) generates sympathy for himself among the spectator-lurkers. No comment is too small to be magnified into a personal insult. This is also, often, a diversion.
• The closed-minded debater will show little regard for conversational or personal ethic in the process. As stated before, winning is paramount; and when one is right, the end justifies the means.
• The closed-minded debater will not be persuaded. Will. Not. Be. Persuaded.

These are fairly widespread tactics; you’ll see them all over the Web and on every so-called news network. What is truly disappointing to this believer is the size of the culture of closed-minded debate within Christendom. Believers –who of all people should be the first to understand the difference between faith and fact; the necessity of being open-minded and selfless with others; the victory that comes through saying “I was wrong” — seem to be among the very worst in many instances.

Their language may not (or may!) be as offensive, but their utter contempt for those who disagree with them on dearly-held beliefs — whether well-founded or not — is absolutely unmistakable … whether by another believer, or someone who does not believer, does not know the Story, has never really even heard of Jesus of Nazareth (other than as part of a curse or epithet).

Christian discourse should be light-years above simply civil discourse. It should be persuasive in its humility, its love and its deep concern for others above self. It should be unyielding in matters of faith, and understanding in matters of opinion, and sufficiently mature in spirit to discern them.

I have gone past being weary of the level of discourse among believers that I’ve seen (and, sadly, been a part of) and my tolerance for it has reached an all-time low.

So I’ve set some goals for myself when I feel drawn (or sucked) into closed-minded debate:

• I will not be the closed-minded party.
• I will love and pray for the one(s) who disagree(s) with me.
• I will not argue matters of opinion anymore. You’re entitled to my opinion any time you like it; just read it here. I’ll be glad to read yours. I’ll probably be secretly delighted that we’re alike or different in certain ways because I believe that such commonality and diversity will both enrich and strengthen the body of believers. But I’m not going to go into hours and paragraphs and billions of pixels over something we don’t have to agree upon.
• I will argue matters of faith. When I encounter something that challenges faith, has the potential to enlighten or strengthen or deepen it, I will argue it and argue it passionately.
• I will admit when I am wrong. And I am frequently wrong.
• I will continue to tell you when something is my opinion, my conclusion … and when something is simply the fact as virtually everyone else in the known universe agrees upon it, citing reference when possible.
• I will do my best to discern the difference between those two.
• I will concede my opponent’s points when they are correct. Hey, it happens.
• I will always try to be a brother to a sibling in Christ, a fellow believer, and share fellowship with her.
• I will always try to be a brother to someone who does not believe, and share fellowship with him as well.
• I will continue to believe that Jesus loves without precondition, which is my example to follow.
• If I cannot foresee a worthwhile outcome, I reserve the right to not participate in a challenged debate at all. I may well ask the challenger: “Is there really a possibility that either of us is going to change the other’s mind on this matter? If not, is there really any point in proceding?”

Well, that’s my short list. It’s a start.

But I think it’s a good one.

Going a little farther, he fell to the ground and prayed that if possible the hour might pass from him. “Abba, Father,” he said, “everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.” ~ Mark 14:35-36

I had a trying moment Sunday morning during the observance of the Lord’s Supper with my church family. I read that verse and came pretty close to losing all composure. I wasn’t certain I could stay at the sound board anymore, or that I could do what I needed to do there.

Read it again with me, as I did then:

“Everything is possible for You.”

I have never known Jesus to be wrong or mistaken about anything. If He believed something to be true, it was true. He believed it was possible for the hour to pass from Him, because everything was possible for God.

It’s just five words in the English language, and only Mark’s gospel includes them.

That’s not to say that Jesus never said the same thing in other contexts; He did. Like Mark 10:27. And Luke 18:27. Once He even told a desperate man with a tortured child, “Everything is possible for one who believes.” (Mark 9:23)

Yet the context in Gethsemane is the fate of the world and it is bearing right down on His weary shoulders and He is God’s Son and God can do anything.

He could accept a lesser sacrifice … just as He had done with Abraham. (Genesis 22) It didn’t have to be His Son, His only Son, arrested and pummeled and run all over town and tried and mocked and spat upon and whipped within an inch of His life and crucified six hours to take that last inch.

It was possible.

All Jesus had to do was say the word and twelve legions of angels would have appeared to rescue Him.

But the word He said instead was, “Yet…”

Both Father and Son knew that He had to submit to this final act of obedience. The prophecies could not be unwritten. The destiny could not be transferred. The Story had to be lived out; fulfilled to the fullest … for it would be the Story that would win millions back to God.

Do you think Jesus struggled with questions of theodicy in Gethsemane? Do you think He took them personally?

He did, you know. All the way to the cross … and the tomb … and glory.

The writer of Hebrews 5:8 says He learned obedience through what He suffered. The hard way. The hardest way. He obeyed fully, because we could not.

So I beg you to deal with that now, right now, and don’t put it off until you’re struggling with theodicy or dealing with something you feel is unfair in your life or carrying a burden you feel God has given you that is too much to bear. Or even when you’re running a sound board during a worship service with your church family.

Everything is possible with God.

Everything is possible for those who believe.

Including surviving six hours on a cross when nearly bled to death.

And forgiving the thief next to you and the traitor who turned you in and all of humanity for standing around while you perish yet doing nothing.

And living again, a glorious life, renewed and redeemed and beloved by God in His home with His family, forever and ever and ever.

If it can be done with His Son, it can be done with you and me.

It’s God’s will for us.

Anything that’s His will, He makes it possible.

Let me take a quick break from my dialogue with my great-great grandfather to say something as briefly and clearly as I know how:

Phrases like “our identity” and “our distinctiveness” have no place in the vocabulary of any Christian who believes that Jesus prayed John 17. They should be cast out as demons were cast out by Jesus and those who followed Him.

You will not find an individual church’s “identity” or “distinctiveness” as a concept in scripture. Heck, you won’t even find those words in scripture.

So who authorized anybody to use them with regard to the church at all, let alone as issues that are paramount?

Those are words used by people who are divisive and contentious, and I think we all know what scripture has to say about such people.

They are words which create division and cause dissension, because wherever there is an “our” or “us,” there must be a “their” and “them.” There is no denying this.

They are scare words, because the people who use them are scared to lose the power that they think they have by using them.

The power in the church belongs to God in Christ Jesus, not anyone else. The only identity that the church has is through Christ Jesus, our Lord. The only distinctiveness we should have is in lives that reflect His, which shone forth the Father’s glory from the moment of His birth to the moment of His death, and then beyond and on and on.

“Our identity” and “Our distinctiveness” are judgmental words, because they cast judgment and condemnation on others who are different, see things differently, have different customs.

They are contra-authorized words, prohibited because scripture advises that we count others better than ourselves and accept each other as we have been accepted in Christ.

They are unholy words, because they do not maintain the Spirit of unity in the bond of peace, but seek to supplant Him with self.

They are arrogant words, because they presume that “us” and “our” is correct and therefore righteous and therefore superior. Scripture says that no one is righteous; no, not one … except through the blood of Jesus Christ. And that through faith, which is not even of ourselves, but is the gift of God.

Only by Jesus’ sacrifice and His judgment will sheep be separated from goats; only by His grace will any be saved; only by His justice will any be excluded … not by any lines that we draw or  judgments we make or by any subscriptural human teachings that we espouse as dearly as if they were God’s own words when God had no intention of saying them. And it should be to no one’s surprise that they do not appear in scripture.

They are words by which their users will be judged, and I am not at all superior to or more righteous than those who use them constantly because I have used them myself, over and over, without even thinking of the connotations of them or the perceptions of others or — most importantly — the way they sound to God’s ears.

May God forgive me.

May God forgive us all.

That’s it. Just a question. It’s a question that I’m not sure I’ve ever heard posed, or answered. So although I have some thoughts, they are germinal rather than terminal. I have no agenda other than curiosity: I really want to know what you think.

What is the purpose of preaching?

I am not normally this combative. In fact, I’ve taken a bit of a sabbatical from blogging because the combative nature of the comments section has become increasingly repulsive and seductive to me. I can’t explain the contradiction; it’s just there.

But yesterday I managed to get myself in up to my neck on the microblogging platform Facebook. There, a simple question from Wade Hodges turned into a bit of a go-round.

Wade just asked:

True or False: Cutting 5 minutes of content from most sermons would improve them greatly.

And I answered:

I think if the objective is a better sermon, then the greatest improvement to most sermons would be to draw them to a close on the subject of Jesus, the Christ. I don’t really care if there’s an altar call/invitation or not – if the message doesn’t have some pertinent connection to Christ, it’s not a sermon; it’s just another lecture. And the speaker has wasted his/her own time and that of the audience.

Another reader responded:

There is more to preaching than just Christ…. as silly as that sounds. What about teaching? What if a sermon was on the 3rd person of the Godhead? Do you conclude talking about Christ? Some things can be taught separate from Christ to give perspective on the matter. Other things, (Adam/Eve, Grace, Life, and redemption) cannot be explain completely without Christ. But to explain sin and the ramification of sin, I wouldn’t have to talk about Christ.

I answered,

Respectfully, H—–, I disagree. If you talk about sin, you must talk about grace and redemption, and you can’t really talk about grace and redemption without talking about Jesus. If you talk about the Godhead, you can’t avoid talking about Jesus. If you talk about the first Adam, there’s no good reason you should leave out the last Adam. If the purpose of preaching is to bring others closer to God through Christ, you cannot leave out Christ.

He returned with:

W. Keith Brenton- I could preach a 2 hour sermon on the origins of sin, without any fluff whatsoever, and never say a word about Christ. Moses knew a LOT abo…ut sin, but knew nothing of the Christ (very little that was foretold, but nothing specific- just the promises) So I am confident in saying that I you do not always have to go back to Christ.

I posed this question:

Again, respectfully, H—–: How would that be different from ant lecture that a Jewish history professor might deliver at Hebrew University?

Another reader, K——- added:

You make some good points Howard but I’ve got to agree with W Keith here. Any sermon without Christ is just a lecture, better suited for a class you can take if you’re interested in the subject. As his disciples we are to imitate him and …make new disciples “teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you” (somehow we tend to neglect this second part of Jesus’ command and see conversion/baptism as the end of the process–different conversation) The church is to be about making new disciples and you can’t do that if you don’t talk about him often and with obvious love for him and passion for his glory so we come to love what he loves. This should be expressed from the pulpit. “He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or rulers or authorities–all things were created through him and for him. And he is above all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in everything he might be preeminent. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross” How can you not preach him, sing him, talk about him, think about him!

Still another, B—, had this to say:

Jesus’ sermons rarely talked about Jesus.

I responded:

Well, if I were Jesus, I could teach with authority and wouldn’t need to quote him. In fact, I could do miracles and would live sinlessly. I would talk about God and, oh, I’d say things like “Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day” and “Whoever lives and believes in me will never die.” I’m sorry; what was the point you were making, B—?

Wade tried to defuse my antagonism:

Wow. I guess sermons aren’t the only things that sometimes go a bit longer than necessary. 🙂

B— responded:

Keith, my point, though I love to preach about Jesus, is that you are overstating your case. I think we get your point, but not all sermons have to be about Jesus to be connected to Him or to point people to Him. It’s all connected to Him because it’s from Him. But according to your statements here, the sermon on the mount was a waste of time for Jesus and His hearers.

Unfortunately, I could not let that pass unanswered:

Forgive me, Wade, for chewing up more pixels, but Brad’s charges demand a response. I never said every sermon has to be about Jesus to point people to Him. But you can’t make His name known among those listening who may not know it by failing to even mention it. Virtually all of scripture points to Him. The evangelist’s challenge is to uncover how for his/her listeners; go a little deeper. Second, no twist of logic can make what I’ve said mean that the sermon on the mount was a waste of time. It was all about Jesus: who He was and what He did and how we can be like Him. I guess what’s really shocking to me is that folks are defending the right to preach a Jesus-free sermon. What’s the blinkin’ point of that, except to leave the audience blinkin’ and wonderin’ why they came to listen to it? I confess I am frankly jealous of people who have more opportunities to speak. I’m on the ministry support staff of a good-sized church (about 2,000). I’ve been asked to speak twice in the last five years. Every chance I get, I’m going to preach Christ and Him crucified – either directly or indirectly – because people who don’t know Him need to and people who know Him should never tire of hearing more about Him. The length of that message will depend entirely on what needs to be communicated about Him. I’m not going to squander any opportunity. People I listen to who have a burning in their bones about Him — I don’t tire of listening to them. That, I think, was what I was originally trying to say in response to Wade’s question.

I guess it’s just not negotiable with me. A sermon isn’t a sermon if it doesn’t come around to the subject of Jesus Christ. I may well be guilty of overstatement. I don’t think so. I don’t think that Paul, or Peter, or Stephen would think so. But I have no way of knowing that for certain.

So I ask you:

When is a sermon not a sermon?