So Long Insecurity

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today's Wild Card author is:

Beth Moore

and the book:

So Long Insecurity: You’ve Been a Bad Friend to Us

Tyndale House Publishers, Inc. (February 2, 2010)

***Special thanks to Vicky Lynch of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc. for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Over the past decade, Beth Moore has become an internationally known and respected Bible teacher, teaching over 250,000 women annually in Living Proof Live Conferences and regularly sharing God’s Word with an interdenominational community at her church in Houston; teaching the Bible on the nationally syndicated Life Today with James Robison; and through her best-selling books and Living Proof radio program.

Visit the author's website.

Product Details:

List Price: $24.99
Hardcover: 368 pages
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc. (February 2, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1414334729
ISBN-13: 978-1414334721

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Mad Enough to Change

I’m seriously ticked. And I need to do something about it. Some people eat when they’re about to rupture with emotion. Others throw up. Or jog. Or go to bed. Some have a holy fit. Others stuff it and try to forget it. I can do all those things in sequential order, but I still don’t find relief.

When my soul is inflating until my skin feels like a balloon about to pop, I write. Never longhand, if I can help it. The more emotion I feel, the more I appreciate banging on the keys of a computer. I type by faith and not by sight. My keyboard can attest to the fact that I am a passionate person with an obsession for words: most of the vowels are worn off. The word ticked really should have more vowels. Maybe what I am is peeved. That’s a good one. How about irrationally irritated to oblivion? Let that one wear the vowels off a keyboard.

The thing is, I’m not even sure exactly who I’m ticked at. I’m hoping to find that out as I hack away at these chapters. One thing is for certain. Once I figure it out, I probably won’t keep it to myself. After all, you know how the saying goes: hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. And I’m feeling scorned.

But not just for myself. I’m feeling ticked for the whole mess of us born with a pair of X chromosomes. My whole ministry life is lived out in the blessed chaos of a female cornucopia. I’ve been looking at our gender through the lens of Scripture for twenty-five solid years, and I have pondered over us, taken up for us, laid into us, deliberated over us, prayed about us, lost sleep because of us, cried for us, laughed my head off at us, and gotten offended for us—and by us—more times than I can count. And after a quarter of a century surrounded by girls ranging all the way from kindergarteners to those resting on pale pink liners inside caskets, I’ve come to this loving conclusion: we need help. I need help. Something more than what we’re getting.

The woman I passed a few days ago on the freeway who was bawling her eyes out at the steering wheel of her Nissan needs help. The girl lying about her age in order to get a job in a topless bar needs help. The divorcée who has loathed herself into fifty extra pounds needs help. For crying out loud, that female rock star I’ve disdained for years needs help. When I read something demeaning her ex said about her recently—something I know would cut any female to the quick—I jumped to her defense like a jackal on a field mouse and seriously wondered how I could contact her agent and offer to mentor her in Bible study.

Several days ago I sat in a tearoom across the table from a gorgeous woman I love dearly. She has been married for three months, and they did all the right things leading up to that sacred ceremony, heightening the anticipation considerably. After an hour or so of musing over marriage, she said to me, “Last weekend he seemed disinterested in me. I’ll be honest with you. It kind of shook me up. I wanted to ask him, ‘So, are you over me now? That quick? That’s it?’”

I’m pretty certain her husband will perk back up, but what a tragedy that she feels like she possesses the shelf life of a video game.

I flashed back to another recent communication with a magazine-cover-beautiful thirty-year-old woman who mentioned—almost in passing—that she has to dress up in costumes in order for her husband to want to make love to her. I’m not knocking her pink-feathered heels, but I wonder if she is paying too much for them. I’m just sad that she can’t feel desirable as herself.

Then yesterday I learned that a darling fifteen-year-old I keep in touch with slept with her boyfriend in a last-ditch effort to hold on to him. He broke up with her anyway. Then he told. It’s all over her high school now.

I’ve got a loved one going through her third divorce. She wants to find a good man in the worst way, and goodness knows they’re out there. The problem is, she keeps marrying the same kind of man.

I’m so ticked.

If these examples were exceptions to the rule, I wouldn’t bother writing, but you and I both know better than that. I hear echoes of fear and desperation from women day in and day out—even if they’re doing their best to muffle the sound with their Coach bags. Oh, who am I kidding? I hear reverberations from my own heart more times than I want to admit. I keep trying to stifle it, but it won’t shut up. Something’s wrong with us for us to value ourselves so little. Our culture has thrown us under the bus. We have a fissure down the spine of our souls and, boy, does it need fixing.

This morning while I was getting ready for church, my cell phone nearly vibrated off the bathroom counter with six incoming texts from a single friend who was having a crisis of heart. I answered her with what little I had to give, even as I grappled with my own issues. I decided that what I needed was a good sermon to keep me from crying off my eyeliner, so I flipped on the television to a terrific local preacher. Lo and behold, the sermon was about what a woman needs from a man.

Deep sigh.

Actually, it was a great message if anyone had a mind to do what he was recommending, but knowing human nature and feeling uncharacteristically cynical, I could feel my frustration mounting. The preacher had done his homework. He offered half a dozen Scripture-based PowerPoint slides with state-of-the-art graphics describing what men should do for women. “Women want to be told that they are captivating. That they’re beautiful. Desirable.”

I won’t deny that. What woman wouldn’t thrive under that kind of steady affirmation?

But here’s my question: What if no one tells us that? Can we still find a way to be okay? Or what if he says it because he’s supposed to, but to be honest, he’s not feeling it? Are we hopeless? What if a man is not captivated by us? What if he doesn’t think we’re particularly beautiful? Or, understandably, maybe just not every day? Are we only secure on his “on” days? What if he loves us but is not quite as captivated by us as he used to be? What if his computer is full of images of what he finds attractive, and we’re light-years from it? What if we’re seventy-five, and every ounce of desirability is long behind us? Can we still feel adequate in our media-driven society?



Adapted from So Long Insecurity by Beth Moore. Copyright © 2010 by Beth Moore. Used with permission from Tyndale House Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved.

A Novel Idea!

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today's Wild Card authors are:

Various Best-Selling Authors
(contributions from best-selling authors including Jerry B. Jenkins, Francine Rivers, Karen Kingsbury, Randy Alcorn, Terri Blackstock, Robin Jones Gunn, Angela Hunt and more)

and the book:

A Novel Idea

Tyndale House Publishers, Inc. (November 1, 2009)

***Special thanks to Vicky Lynch of Tyndale House Publishers for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE BOOK:

Best-selling Christian fiction writers have teamed together to contribute articles on the craft of writing. A Novel Idea contains tips on brainstorming ideas and crafting and marketing a novel. It explains what makes a Christian novel “Christian” and offers tips on how to approach tough topics. Contributors include Jerry B. Jenkins, Karen Kingsbury, Francine Rivers, Angela Hunt, and many other beloved authors. All proceeds will benefit MAI, an organization that teaches writing internationally to help provide literature that is culturally relevant.




Product Details:

List Price: $14.99
Paperback: 320 pages
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc. (November 1, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1414329946
ISBN-13: 978-1414329949

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Chapter 1: Plot

The Plot Skeleton

Angela Hunt

Imagine, if you will, that you and I are sitting in a room with one hundred other authors. If you were to ask each person present to describe their plotting process, you’d probably get a hundred different answers. Writers’ methods vary according to their personalities, and we are all different. Mentally. Emotionally. Physically.

If, however, those one hundred novelists were to pass behind an X-ray machine, you’d discover that we all possess remarkably similar skeletons. Beneath our disguising skin, hair, and clothing, our skeletons are pretty much identical.

In the same way, though writers vary in their methods, good stories are composed of remarkably comparable skeletons. Stories with “good bones” can be found in picture books and novels, plays and films.

Many fine writers tend to carefully outline their plots before they begin the first chapter. On the other hand, some novelists describe themselves as “seat-of-the-pants” writers. But when the story is finished, a seat-of-the-pants novel will (or should!) contain the same elements as a carefully plotted book. Why? Because whether you plan it from the beginning or find it at the end, novels need structure beneath the story.

After mulling several plot designs and boiling them down to their basic elements, I developed what I call the “plot skeleton.” It combines the spontaneity of seat-of-the-pants writing with the discipline of an outline. It requires a writer to know where he’s going, but it leaves room for lots of discovery on the journey.

When I sit down to plan a new book, the first thing I do is sketch my smiling little skeleton.

To illustrate the plot skeleton in this article, I’m going to refer frequently to The Wizard of Oz and a lovely foreign film you may never have seen, Mostly Martha.

The Skull: A Central Character
The skull represents the main character, the protagonist. A lot of beginning novelists have a hard time deciding who the main character is, so settle that question right away. Even in an ensemble cast, one character should be featured more than the others. Your readers want to place themselves into your story world, and it’s helpful if you can give them a sympathetic character to whom they can relate. Ask yourself, “Whose story is this?” That is your protagonist.

This main character should have two needs or problems—one obvious, one hidden—which I represent by two yawning eye sockets.

Here’s a tip: Hidden needs, which usually involve basic human emotions, are often solved or met by the end of the story. They are at the center of the protagonist’s “inner journey,” or character change, while the “outer journey” is concerned with the main events of the plot. Hidden needs often arise from wounds in a character’s past.

Consider The Wizard of Oz. At the beginning of the film, Dorothy needs to save her dog from Miss Gulch, who has arrived to take Toto because he bit her scrawny leg—a very straightforward and obvious problem. Dorothy’s hidden need is depicted but not directly emphasized when she stands by the pigpen and sings “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” Do children live with Uncle Henry and Aunt Em if all is fine with Mom and Dad? No. Though we are not told what happened to Dorothy’s parents, it’s clear that something has splintered her family and Dorothy’s unhappy. Her hidden need, the object of her inner journey, is to find a place to call home.

Mostly Martha opens with the title character lying on her therapist’s couch and talking about all that is required to cook the perfect pigeon. Since she’s in a therapist’s office, we assume she has a problem, and the therapist addresses this directly: “Martha, why are you here?”

“Because,” she answers, “my boss will fire me if I don’t go to therapy.” Ah—obvious problem at work with the boss. Immediately we also know that Martha is high-strung. She is precise and politely controlling in her kitchen. This woman lives for food, but though she assures us in a voice-over that all a cook needs for a perfectly lovely dinner is “fish and sauce,” we see her venture downstairs to ask her new neighbor if he’d like to join her for dinner. He can’t, but we become aware that Martha needs company. She needs love in her life.

Connect the Skull to the Body: Inciting Action
Usually the first few chapters of a novel are involved with the business of establishing the protagonist in a specific time and place, his world, his needs, and his personality. The story doesn’t kick into gear, though, until you move from the skull to the spine, a connection known as the inciting incident.

Writers are often told to begin the story in medias res, or in the middle of the action. This is not the same as the Big Incident. Save the big event for a few chapters in, after you’ve given us some time to know and understand your character’s needs. Begin your story with an obvious problem—some action that shows how your character copes. In the first fifth of the story we learn that Dorothy loves Toto passionately and that Martha is a perfectionist chef. Yes, start in the middle of something active, but hold off on the big event for a while. Let us get to know your character first . . . because we won’t gasp about their dilemma until we know them.

In a picture book, the inciting incident is often signaled by two words: One day . . . Those two words are a natural way to move from setting the stage to the action. As you plot your novel, ask yourself, “One day, what happens to move my main character into the action of the story?” Your answer will be your inciting incident, the key that turns your story engine.

After Dorothy ran away, if she’d made it home to Uncle Henry and Aunt Em without incident, there would have been no story. The inciting incident? When the tornado picks Dorothy up and drops her, with her house, in the land of Oz.

The inciting incident in Mostly Martha is signaled by a ringing telephone. When Martha takes the call, she learns that her sister, who was a single mother to an eight-year-old girl, has been killed in an auto accident.

Think of your favorite stories—how many feature a hero who’s reluctant to enter the special world? Often—but not always—your protagonist doesn’t want to go where the inciting incident is pushing him or her. Obviously, Martha doesn’t want to hear that her sister is dead, and she certainly doesn’t want to be a mother. She takes Lina, her niece, and offers to cook for her (her way of showing love), but Lina wants her mother, not gourmet food.

Even if your protagonist has actively pursued a change, he or she may have moments of doubt as the entrance to the special world looms ahead. When your character retreats or doubts or refuses to leave the ordinary world, another character should step in to provide encouragement, advice, information, or a special tool. This will help your main character overcome those last-minute doubts and establish the next part of the skeleton: the goal.

The End of the Spine: The Goal
At some point after the inciting incident, your character will establish and state a goal. Shortly after stepping out of her transplanted house, Dorothy looks around Oz and wails, “I want to go back to Kansas!” She’s been transported over the rainbow, but she prefers the tried and true to the unfamiliar and strange. In order to go home, she’ll have to visit the wizard in the Emerald City. As she tries to meet an ever-shifting set of subordinate goals (follow the yellow brick road; overcome the poppies; get in to see the wizard; bring back a broomstick), her main goal keeps viewers glued to the screen.

This overriding concern—will she or won’t she make it home?—is known as the dramatic question. The dramatic question in every murder mystery is, Who committed the crime? The dramatic question in nearly every thriller is, Who will win the inevitable showdown between the hero and the villain? Along the way readers will worry about the subgoals (Will the villain kill his hostage? Will the hero figure out the clues?), but the dramatic question keeps them reading until the last page.

Tip: To keep the reader involved, the dramatic question should be directly related to the character’s ultimate goal. Martha finds herself trying to care for a grieving eight-year-old who doesn’t want another mother. So Martha promises to track down the girl’s father, who lives in Italy. She knows only that his name is Giuseppe, but she’s determined to find him.

The Rib Cage: Complications
Even my youngest students understand that a protagonist who accomplishes everything he or she attempts is a colorless character. As another friend of mine is fond of pointing out, as we tackle the mountain of life, it’s the bumps we climb on! If you’re diagramming, sketch at least three curving ribs over your spine. These represent the complications that must arise to prevent your protagonist from reaching his goal.

Why at least three ribs? Because even in the shortest of stories—in a picture book, for instance—three complications work better than two or four. I don’t know why three gives us such a feeling of completion, but it does. Maybe it’s because God is a Trinity and we’re hardwired to appreciate that number.

While a short story will have only three complications, a movie or novel may have hundreds. Complications can range from the mundane—John can’t find a pencil to write down Sarah’s number—to life-shattering. As you write down possible complications that could stand between your character and his ultimate goal, place the more serious problems at the bottom of the list.

The stakes—what your protagonist is risking—should increase in significance as the story progresses. In Mostly Martha, the complications center on this uptight woman’s ability to care for a child. Lina hates her babysitter, so Martha has to take Lina to work with her. But the late hours take their toll, and Lina is often late for school. Furthermore, Lina keeps refusing to eat anything Martha cooks for her.

I asked you to make the ribs curve because any character that runs into complication after complication without any breathing space is going to be a weary character . . . and you’ll weary your reader with this frenetic pace. One of the keys to good pacing is to alternate your plot complications with rewards. Like a pendulum that swings on an arc, let your character relax, if only briefly, between disasters.

Along the spiraling yellow brick road, Dorothy soon reaches an intersection (a complication). Fortunately, a friendly scarecrow is willing to help (a reward). They haven’t gone far before Dorothy becomes hungry (a complication). The scarecrow spots an apple orchard ahead (a reward). These apple trees, however, resent being picked (a complication), but the clever scarecrow taunts them until they begin to throw fruit at the hungry travelers (a reward).

See how it works? Every problem is followed by a reward that matches the seriousness of the complication. Let’s fast-forward to the scene where the balloon takes off without Dorothy. This is a severe complication—so severe it deserves a title of its own: the bleakest moment. This is the final rib in the rib cage, the moment when all hope is lost for your protagonist.

The Thighbone: Send in the Cavalry
At the bleakest moment, your character needs help, but be careful how you deliver it. The ancient Greek playwrights had actors representing the Greek gods literally descend from the structure above to bring their complicated plot knots to a satisfying conclusion. This sort of resolution is frowned upon in modern literature. Called deus ex machina (literally “god from the machine”), this device employs some unexpected and improbable incident to bring victory or success. If you find yourself whipping up a coincidence or a miracle after the bleakest moment, chances are you’ve employed deus ex machina. Back up and try again, please.

Avoid using deus ex machina by sending two types of help: external and internal. Your character obviously needs help from outside; if he could solve the problem alone, he would have done it long before the bleakest moment. Having him conveniently remember something or stumble across a hidden resource smacks of coincidence and will leave your reader feeling resentful and cheated.

So send in the cavalry, but remember that they can’t solve the protagonist’s problem. They can give the protagonist a push in the right direction; they can nudge; they can remind; they can inspire. But they shouldn’t wave a magic wand and make everything all right.

For Dorothy, help comes in the form of Glenda the Good Witch, who reveals a secret: The ruby slippers have the power to carry her back to Kansas. All Dorothy has to do is say, “There’s no place like home”—with feeling, mind you—and she’ll be back on the farm with Uncle Henry and Auntie Em. Dorothy’s problem isn’t resolved, however, until she applies this information internally. At the beginning of the story, she wanted to be anywhere but on the farm. Now she has to affirm that the farm is where she wants to be. Her hidden need—to find a place to call home—has been met.

In Mostly Martha, the bleakest moment arrives with Lina’s father, Giuseppe. He is a good man, and Lina seems to accept him. But after waving good-bye, Martha goes home to an empty apartment and realizes that she is not happy with her controlled, childless life. She goes to Marlo, the Italian chef she has also begun to love, and asks for his help.

The Kneecap and Lower Leg: Make a Decision, Learn a Lesson
Martha realizes that her old life was empty—she needs Lina in her life, and she needs Marlo. So she and Marlo drive from Germany to Italy to fetch Lina and bring her home.

You may be hard-pressed to cite the lesson you learned from the last novel you read, but your protagonist needs to learn something. This lesson is the epiphany, a sudden insight that speaks volumes to your character and brings them to the conclusion of their inner journey.

James Joyce popularized the word epiphany, literally the manifestation of a divine being. (Churches celebrate the festival of Epiphany on January 6 to commemorate the meeting of the Magi and the Christ child.) After receiving help from an outside source, your character should see something—a person, a situation, or an object—in a new light.

When the scarecrow asks why Glinda waited to explain the ruby slippers, the good witch smiles and says, “Because she wouldn’t have believed me. She had to learn it for herself.” The scarecrow then asks, “What’d you learn, Dorothy?” Without hesitation, Dorothy announces that she’s learned a lesson: “The next time I go looking for my heart’s desire, I won’t look any farther than my own backyard.” She has learned to appreciate her home, so even though she is surrounded by loving friends and an emerald city, Dorothy chooses to return to colorless Kansas. She hugs her friends once more, then grips Toto and clicks her heels.

The Foot: The Resolution
Every story needs the fairy-tale equivalent of “and they lived happily ever after.” Not every story ends happily, of course, though happy endings are undoubtedly popular. Some protagonists are sadder and wiser after the course of their adventure. But a novel should at least leave the reader with hope.

The resolution to Mostly Martha is portrayed during the closing of the film. As the credits roll, we see Marlo and Martha meeting Lina in Italy; we see Martha in a wedding gown (with her hair down!) and Marlo in a tuxedo; we see a wedding feast with Giuseppe, his family, and Martha’s German friends; we see Martha and Marlo and Lina exploring an abandoned restaurant—clearly, they are going to settle in Italy so Lina can be a part of both families. In the delightful final scene, we see Martha with her therapist again, but this time he has cooked for her and she is advising him.

Many movies end with a simple visual image—we see a couple walking away hand in hand, a mother cradling her long-lost son. That’s all we need to realize that our main character has struggled, learned, and come away a better (or wiser) person. As a writer, you’ll have to use words, but you can paint the same sort of reassuring picture without resorting to “and they lived happily ever after.”

Your story should end with a changed protagonist—he or she has gone through a profound experience and is different for it, hopefully for the better. Your protagonist has completed an outer journey (experienced the major plot events) and an inner journey that address some hurt from the past and result in a changed character.

What Next?
Now that we’ve reached the foot of our story skeleton, we’re finished outlining the basic structure. Take those major points and write them up in paragraph form. Once you’ve outlined your plot and written your synopsis, you’re ready to begin writing scenes. Take a deep breath, glance over your skeleton, and jump in.


Taken from A Novel Idea by ChiLibras. Copyright ©2009 by ChiLibras. Used with permission from Tyndale House Publishers. All rights reserved.

Fixing Abraham by Chris Tiegreen

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today's Wild Card author is:

Chris Tiegreen

and the book:

Fixing Abraham: How Taming Our Bible Heroes Blinds Us to the Wild Ways of God

SaltRiver (February 5, 2009)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Chris Tiegreen is a devotional writer and editor for indeed magazine at Walk Thru the Bible in Atlanta, Georgia. He has also been a missionary, pastor, journalist, photographer, and university instructor. He has helped plant churches in Michigan and Idaho, has been a pastor in Florida, and enjoys doing mission work in Thailand. His first Tyndale publication, At His Feet was a Gold Medallion finalist in the devotional category. He and his wife, Hannah, live in the Atlanta area.


Product Details:

List Price: $14.99
Paperback: 224 pages
Publisher: SaltRiver (February 5, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1414321724
ISBN-13: 978-1414321721

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Creative Interpretation

Transcript of NT101 lecture/session 6, Dr. Ferris E. Didaski, professor

of biblical hermeneutics, Theologicus Institute of Religion, June 6


All right, folks, let’s get started. You’ll notice from your syllabus that we’ll be talking about foundational hermeneutic approaches the next couple of weeks, and the reason for this emphasis is the absolutely critical need

in our ministries, especially in our preaching, to get the right message from the biblical text. I won’t bore you today with endless examples of how the Bible has been misinterpreted and misapplied because you can come up with quite a few examples off the top of your head, I imagine.

You’ve probably heard Aunt Mabel’s philosophy on sparing the rod or Brother Jim’s earnest desire just to lift Jesus up in worship so all will be drawn to him as he ignores, of course, the plain interpretation that John spells out for us in that text. In one of your outside reading assignments, which we’ll probably discuss next time we meet, we find quite a few examples of this kind of misinterpretation, proving that spurious biblical hermeneutics have a long history of abuse and distortion. I want to open your eyes to this—to tear down what you think you know about how the Bible came to us and reconstruct for you a more realistic approach.


Remember rule number one. Don’t ever forget this, as long as you live—or at least as long as you preach or teach classes or write articles. Rule number one is “context.” The context is the key to understanding any passage. If you miss the original intent of the author in the context in which he wrote, you will find your doctrine corrupted with all sorts of misunderstandings. That is why this class will focus so intensely on the background of the biblical text. You may wish at times that you could just get to the meat of the passage itself, but you will find in the long run that understanding the context in which these sacred Scriptures were written will save you from error. We don’t want any false doctrine springing out of this group down the road, do we? So remember, context. Context, context, context.


Now in order to understand the context, you’ll need to have a firm grasp of the original language—that’s why most of you are muddling through Greek or Hebrew 101 this semester and hating it. Consider it an investment in your commitment to orthodoxy. You’ll also need a clear understanding of the history and the cultural and social dynamics of the time, and a very objective approach. These sacred writers did not write in a vacuum, as most people sitting in the pew might imagine. They had their own biases, their own perceptions and observations, and a wide range of influences bearing down on them and coloring the lenses through which they looked. They may have been quite subjective—in fact, they certainly were, without exception. But you are not afforded that privilege.


You must train yourself not to do as they did because they have the authority of apostleship and inspiration behind them and you do not. Adding your subjectivity to theirs will only take you further off course. You must become a Sherlock Holmes of sorts and investigate exactly what the author meant and how his readers understood it. That, my dear students, is how you may become a scholar and a sage instead of a seller of shallow sentiments. The church has too many of the latter. Now, where was I heading with that point . . . oh, yes. The reading. Interestingly, Matthew’s Gospel aptly illustrates the hermeneutics we are trying to avoid. But never forget: his writing of the Gospel was inspired. Your interpretation of it is not. Remember that, for as you read it, I want you to see how many misapplications of Scripture you can find. This document will quote extensively from the Hebrew Scriptures, but if you’re familiar with said Scriptures, you’ll hardly recognize them. I’ll give you a few examples to get you started. For instance, there’s a prophecy in the book of Isaiah in which God tells the prophet that he will preach to a people who will hear but not understand, and see but not perceive—a prediction that was rather unambiguously fulfilled during the course of Isaiah’s ministry. Yet roughly seven centuries later the writer of this document quotes

this passage and says “now it is being fulfilled” in his own day. Or, for one a little more egregious, a Hosea passage clearly referring to Israel’s exodus from Egypt is applied to the Messiah figure5 as though the primary meaning of the prophecy had never even occurred to the writer.


This is clearly not proof of the Messiah, though the writer evidently thinks it is. And again, Micah’s assessment of the Israelites’ lamentable condition in his own day is used by Matthew to depict how the Messiah would pull families apart! Or, if you need more to go on, a passage in Jeremiah about the Babylonian captivity is applied to the children of Bethlehem centuries later. We even have one example where the scribe quotes a verse in Jeremiah about thirty pieces of silver, not noticing that this passage occurs nowhere in Jeremiah but in Zechariah instead. This list could go on and on, of course, but that’s for you to discover as you read.


I hate to cast aspersions on our most revered New Testament writer, but Paul appears guilty of careless interpretation at times as well. You may recall Romans 1:17, the verse that, in some degree, launched the

Reformation: “the righteous will live by faith” (niv). Now what does that mean, do you suppose? It could mean that those who are righteous will live in a faithful way; or that those who are righteous came to be so because of their faithful living; or that the just shall survive, i.e., not be condemned, because of their faith; or so on. And, in fact, when we turn to the original passage, Habakkuk 2:4, it seems more likely that the prophet intended to say that those who are righteous will live in a faithful manner. But Paul seems to apply the verse to matters of final

judgment or present justification; and Martin Luther certainly understood the verse this way, crediting it with opening his eyes to the doctrine of justification by faith alone. The question I would pose to you, and which we will discuss on Thursday, is that as this truth is being bounced around like a beach ball, who blew it up to begin with? Obviously, Habakkuk did. So we should rightly defer to his intentions for the right interpretation. This will be our guiding principle in this course and, I hope, yours for the rest of your life.


Now, let’s turn our attention to the related matter of exegesis—drawing truth out of the original text—as opposed to the scandal of eisegesis—by which we mean reading our own interpretations into the text. . . .


+ + + +


I recently heard a well-known Bible teacher lecturing about hermeneutics—one’s method of interpreting the Bible—on the radio. He opened his talk with an illustration of a former student of his, a young woman who was in zealous pursuit of a husband. Not a particular husband, just a husband. As I recall the story, she had recently broken up with a man and was feeling rather despondent over her prospects. But one day she came to this professor with a bright smile on her face, declaring in all sincerity that she was soon going to meet her husband and get married. How did she know this? the professor asked. She had indulged in “lucky dipping” the night before, she explained. That was her term for the practice of opening up the Bible and reading the verse your finger lands on, hoping that it’s God’s word to you for the moment. She didn’t normally do this, she said, but she felt inspired to do so that evening, and the results were very encouraging. Whatever verse she landed on, it resonated with

her, telling her that her desire would be fulfilled shortly and that it would even happen within a couple of weeks. She was convinced the Spirit had told her that it was a promise from God.


For obvious reasons, the professor was amused at the attempt. That’s not a very scholarly approach to Scripture. So as he was finishing describing this negative example on the radio program, he introduced his topic for the day: keys to biblical interpretation. And he almost got fully into the “right” way to study Scripture without mentioning the end of the story, but he couldn’t resist. “Now as it turns out,” he said (and I’m paraphrasing), “she did happen to meet a man a couple of weeks later and they ended up getting married. I keep in touch with them to this day. But I tell her that God did that in spite of her faulty hermeneutic rather than because of it!” And he laughed.


No offense to this respected Bible scholar, but that’s the worst possible illustration he could have used to introduce his point. I have no idea whether that girl’s promise from God actually came from God, but I suspect that in her situation it did. Would I recommend “lucky dipping” as a regular practice? Obviously not. But neither would I say God never works that way. In this case, he apparently did; what she believed did happen, down to the specific detail. But because this preacher’s theology couldn’t bend to that possibility, he believed it happened “in spite of ” her superstitious approach to God’s Word.


I’ve read, heard, and participated in numerous doctrinal discussions in which a phrase like “That’s not what that verse means!” or “That’s taken out of context” occurs. That’s because we have essentially one approach to biblical interpretation: that of the professor in the fictitious lecture transcript above.


We can always stop a heresy in its tracks by appealing to “original context” or the “original language,” as well as to our principles of logic. But in doing so, we’re basically undermining the many ways the writers of the New Testament employed Hebrew Scripture in their Gospels and letters. If we held people like Matthew to our hermeneutical standards, he would be laughed out of any respectable seminary today. Those verses pulled from the Old Testament would be “proven” to have little to do with the Messiah and therefore not applicable to Jesus through any reasonable method of interpretation. Yet Matthew was inspired by the Holy Spirit to write those things. His hermeneutic was apparently acceptable to God.


How can this be? Why would God authorize bypassing the plain meaning of a verse and using it in a secondary or even symbolic sense that had little to do with the original context? One answer lies in normal biblical interpretation at the time the New Testament was written. Rabbinic interpreters from ages past used four main interpretive methods for understanding Jewish Scriptures. The first was p’shat: the literal meaning of a text, the plain and simple objective facts. That was the primary hermeneutic then, and it’s still our default hermeneutic. It’s foundational for developing doctrine and should form the backbone of all other interpretations. But with the Jewish sages, unlike with us, it didn’t end there. The second means of interpretation was the remez: the deeper

meaning hinted at in the subtleties and nuances of the text. Third was the drash or midrash: the comparative, allegorical, metaphorical meaning drawn from the verse as it related to others using similar symbolism or

terminology or even word forms. And then there was the sod: the hidden meaning, the philosophical meanderings prompted by the text, the secret or mystical interpretation. It was very subjective and, though acceptable

during certain periods of Christian history, has remained very unwelcome

in Christian interpretation for the last few centuries.


I’ve heard seminary professors and well-known pastors issue strict warnings against looking for some passage’s “hidden meaning.” But New Testament writers and early Christians relied on sod sometimes. All four modes of interpretation came into play, and there was nothing contemptible about any of them. You wouldn’t build doctrine on the more mystical interpretations, obviously, but you wouldn’t ignore them either. They would supplement your faith and inform your more objective interpretations. All were fair game.


This puts us in a difficult spot. Today we have a hermeneutic that forbids the kind of hermeneutic used by the inspired writers of the Old and New Testament and even by Jesus himself. In other words, our limited mode of interpretation doesn’t match God’s broader intentions for his Word. To me, that sounds like a pretty indefensible position.


Our rigid interpretations have led to some pretty harsh criticisms of people who quote the Bible or explain how God spoke to them through his Word. If those people don’t quote the verse with the exact meaning and original context in mind, a chorus of accusations arises: that person must be “ignorant,” “unbiblical,” or even “heretical.”

No other symbolic or imaginative interpretation is allowed, no hints and subtleties, no intuitive impressions—

nothing but clear, objective fact. Some of the words I used in the previous sentence would be extremely alarming to many biblical scholars and Christian teachers and apologists, but that’s only because we forbid hermeneutical approaches that the Bible itself allows. That’s an odd position to be in, isn’t it? In our zeal to be biblical, we’ve become decidedly unbiblical.


Obviously, I have no reason to criticize Christian versions of p’shat and remez. I think the objective, contextual approach to Scripture is vital. This is where we get the plain meaning of God’s Word and discover the truth about God’s attributes and the plan of salvation and all sorts of doctrinal essentials.


But this kind of interpretation will never give specific guidance in specific situations not covered in Scripture. I was once profoundly encouraged and filled with faith when the words of a passage jumped out at me. It was a passage making a spiritual application from an agricultural principle, and when it mentioned “rain,” I knew what it meant symbolically for my situation, even though my situation didn’t really fit the original context. The Holy Spirit spoke at that moment—and on countless other occasions since—by taking a phrase or metaphor in Scripture out of its immediate context and applying it to my personal issues. This happens quite oft en in personal guidance, as well as in broader biblical interpretation when the Spirit unfolds layers of his truth.


For example, depending on what you’re going through and how the Spirit has been working in your life, the statement that “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him” (1 Corinthians 2:9, niv) can mean different things. To someone at a funeral, it speaks of promises of eternal glory. To someone making a decision about a career or a mate, the Spirit can use it for reassurance of God’s good plans for us in this age. To those going through a spiritual awakening, the Spirit may inspire a vision for going well beyond the “normal” or “status quo” Christianity that most people experience. And what did it mean in the original context? Well, that depends on which “original context” you’re talking about. Paul was referring

to God’s revelation of his deep, mysterious wisdom—the plan of the ages—through the nascent church. But Paul was actually quoting Isaiah, who had been inspired to write this statement about how God acts on behalf of those who wait for him.13 One inspired statement, multiple inspired interpretations and applications—some of them not even hinted at until hundreds of years later. That’s what it means to read the living Word.


This idea makes a lot of people nervous, and there’s certainly some basis for that. Scripture has been distorted and manipulated, used for evil purposes, or simply misunderstood by noninspired interpreters. Cults have sprung up from a few twistings of Scripture for selfish or ungodly purposes. But it grates against my understanding and experience of who God is to believe that people who are humbly seeking truth and asking the Holy Spirit to guide them while affirming a willingness to be corrected by other parts of Scripture will make such an error. It’s generally

pride or an underlying agenda, not a faulty hermeneutic, that leads people to false interpretations of the Word. In fact, I’d argue that humble interaction with the Spirit is much more likely to lead someone into truth than strictly logical study of Scripture would.


The most common biblical objection to approaching Scripture as the Living Word is 2 Peter 1:20: “No prophecy of Scripture is a matter of one’s own interpretation.” But no one in rabbinic circles of long ago or in the church today, as far as I know—there are always fringe exceptions—would say that this fourfold approach to interpretation falls in that category of self-interpretation. Just as the Holy Spirit inspired people to write the words of Scripture, he opens the reader’s ears to hear what he wants them to hear. He is intricately involved in the interpretation, just as he was in the inspiration. If we say one end of that process is reliable and the other isn’t, we have a pretty strange

doctrine of the Holy Spirit. The fact that the Bible is his own breath during any moment when it is being written

or read opens the door for hearing the Spirit in full and exciting ways.


I’m a huge proponent of intellectual understanding, but experiencing God is not simply a matter of knowing biblical truth. The Bible is much, much more than a sourcebook for divine principles. When read by someone in fellowship with the Spirit who authored it, it becomes a living, breathing companion that may surprise you at some point in the conversation. It’s interactive, inviting you to ask questions and hear answers not only about doctrine but about what, specifically, to do with your life the next couple of years or whom to associate with. And it’s the beginning g of the conversation, not the definition of it. Your interactions with the Spirit will go in directions that

never contradict the Word but oft en expand your understanding of it, even uncomfortably at times.


I have several friends, for example, who have wrestled with their experiences at worship services that seemed very disorderly, which, in their understanding, violated 1 Corinthians 14:33 and 40: “God is not a God of disorder but of peace. . . . Everything should be done in a fitting and orderly way” (niv). This struggle is common to visitors at an Orthodox church, a charismatic church, and everything in between. Why? Because what’s orderly to one person isn’t necessarily orderly to another. Members of highly liturgical churches oft en find Baptist and Methodist services much too casual and disorganized, while Baptists and Methodists can make little sense of a Catholic service on the first few visits. Orthodox services have no concrete beginning or end, and a standing and pacing

congregation seems at times to be rather detached from the priestly duties being carried out. And charismatic worship services are seen by many as a free-for-all. Any of the above can be a violation of “fitting and orderly” by

someone’s standards because order is in the eye of the beholder.


In every one of these cases, however, those who have been immersed in the “culture” of the given church can easily see the parameters and predictability in their own worship services. In each flavor of Christian expression, there’s a sense of what’s appropriate and what isn’t, of the right and wrong times for whatever takes place, of doing things in their proper order. But a rigid definition of Paul’s instructions about “fitting and orderly”—a definition that a person most oft en equates with his or her own upbringing—might keep a person away from a fellowship the Holy Spirit is guiding him or her to become involved in. The Spirit is under no obligation to comply with our expectations.


Yet reading the Bible as a living, dynamic, organic voice makes people afraid. It just opens it up to all kinds of misinterpretation, some say—as though the purely objective, contextual hermeneutic has led everyone to the same conclusions. Regardless of the interpretive approach, the Spirit is a necessary companion. When he’s ignored, misinterpretation is likely. But when he’s involved, God speaks. Is that infallible? Nope. But neither is

anyone else’s hermeneutic. And I’d rather walk hand in hand with the Spirit through Scripture than trust my

objective reasoning alone.


I find it rather liberating to know that my interpretation of a passage of Scripture isn’t necessarily my interpretation—that the Holy Spirit is stirring up within me an understanding that he has long desired to impart to

me and anyone else who will listen to him carefully. Are there dangers in my belief that he speaks hidden meanings? Of course—there are dangers in any kind of interpretation of Scripture. But I know from the overt, literal meaning of Scripture what his character is like and how he works, so that’s a guardrail of sorts. He won’t violate that. So if I tell him that I’m trusting him to speak in a way I understand and to keep me from error,

I can be confident that he’ll do that. When I (or any other Christian) ask the Spirit to unfold his truth—and to guard my heart and mind from error—hints and parallels and images seem to come to mind much more often. These, in turn, can be sifted through and examined in the light of the rest of Scripture just as any sermon or book would be. But almost always, such interpretations deepen one’s understanding of the Bible and offer guidance in current circumstances. Why? Because just as the Spirit was in the hands of the writers who penned Scripture, he’s in the hearts of those reading it.


I have a recurring mental picture of evangelicalism’s doctrinal guardians criticizing someone—let’s say me,

for example, since that’s usually who’s in my picture—applying a verse in a way that’s unconventional and doesn’t

pay enough homage to the original context. Charges of “mysticism” and “distorting God’s Word” and “ignoring

the plain meaning of the text” are flying all over the place. Then I envision Matthew walking over to me and

saying, “Why are they so mad at us?” And I answer, “Me, because I heard God say something. You, because you misused the Bible when you wrote the Bible.” And then we get into a discussion of the irony of an “unbiblical”

hermeneutic becoming biblical by authenticating itself within the pages of Scripture.


I’m strongly convinced that there’s nothing in Matthew’s interpretation of Scripture that needs to be fixed. I love studying the original context and languages of the Bible, and I do it almost obsessively. But there are other ways—intuitive, philosophical, mystical, metaphorical, etc.—of hearing God’s voice in the Word. Really all it takes is to ask him and be open to how he leads and reveals himself and his Word. There are no special techniques, no formulas, no step-by-step instructions. Just ask. And expect. And if it’s still uncertain, ask him about your uncertainties.

The Holy Spirit was there at the inspiration of Scripture, he has preserved it over the centuries, he has opened countless minds and hearts to its truth, and he’s right there with you as you read it, discern it, and discover new aspects to it.


But opening ourselves up to more layers of meaning requires loosening our exclusive grip on the ones we already know. If we want to have more intimate fellowship with him, we’ll need to learn how to hear him unconventionally. Not unbiblically, mind you, but unexpectedly and unashamedly. And always true to who he is.


Forgotten lessons from Matthew:

+ The Bible is alive, constantly + moving and breathing into us—and the Spirit can speak through it however he chooses.

+ Today’s rigid hermeneutic is only part of true biblical interpretation. By itself, it’s insufficient for hearing and understanding God’s voice as a means of specific guidance in a personal conversation with him.

+ The Spirit was there when the Bible was inspired, and he’s there when we read it. It’s okay to trust him with the text.

I was suppose to post this on the 8th but I guess it slipped by. I am currently reading this and what an eye-opener it is. I found myself saying "Oh yea! That makes sense." I love or should I say I feel led to read books relating to rearing kids. I don't know if it is my overwhelming sense of inadequacies forcing me to always try to find a book to fixed my imperfection as a parent or what. This book although I am half way through it has some very interesting points to make. I'll write more about this one this week. There are somethings I really want to share about this book.

It is time to play a Wild Card! Every now and then, a book that I have chosen to read is going to pop up as a FIRST Wild Card Tour. Get dealt into the game! (Just click the button!) Wild Card Tours feature an author and his/her book's FIRST chapter!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today's Wild Card author is:

Tim Sanford

and the book:

Losing Control & Liking It

Focus (December 8, 2008)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Tim Sanford is a licensed professional counselor with Focus on the Family and in private practice. An author, speaker, ordained minister, and former youth worker, he has more than 30 years of experience with teenagers. Tim and his wife, Becky, have two adult daughters and reside in Colorado Springs, Colorado.


Product Details:

List Price: $13.99
Paperback: 192 pages
Publisher: Focus (December 8, 2008)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1589974816
ISBN-13: 978-1589974814

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Getting Too

Much of

a Grip


Control: It’s Not Your Department


As a therapist working with teenagers and their families, I’ve heard many a story from parents. Some of them go like these.


• Denise’s daughter is overweight, and the two constantly battle over junk food. While Denise serves low-calorie dinners and packs healthy lunches, she frequently finds her daughter sneaking between-meal cookies and chips. The 14-year-old spends her babysitting money at the nearby convenience store, loading up on snack cakes and soft drinks. Angry, Denise strikes back by withholding allowance and repeatedly warning of the consequences of unhealthy eating habits. Nothing seems to work.


•Mac’s blood pressure skyrockets when he thinks of his 15-year old son getting his driver’s license in a few short months. The boy has completed an expensive, private driver-training course and seems cautious and responsible. But Mac can’t stop remembering his son’s kamikaze approach to theme-park bumper cars five years ago. This hapless father’s knuckles turn white when his teenager is at the wheel; his right foot presses an invisible brake pedal while his heart races like crazy. He wonders if he should make his son wait to get his license until he’s 17 . . . or 18 . . . or 20.


• Joe wonders where his little boy and girl have gone. His sweet, bright-eyed grade-schoolers suddenly have been replaced by a shaggy, lanky 15-year-old boy who appears unaware of his own overwhelming body odor—and a 13-year-old girl who favors tight tank tops and too much eye makeup. Joe’s wife has had some loud conversations with their daughter about her tastes in clothes and cosmetics, but neither parent has confronted their son about his pungent smell. Joe knows it’s probably up to him, but he hates to destroy the boy’s self-esteem. He wonders whether he’s just being a control freak. He looks on his bookshelf for help, but finds nothing. They never deal with anything practical in those parenting books, he thinks.


Like Denise, Mac, and Joe, you probably face plenty of situations in which a book called The Complete Guide to Controlling Your Teenager would seem helpful. It wouldn’t be, though. The idea of being your son’s or daughter’s puppeteer might sound appealing, but the results would

be disastrous for both of you. This book takes a different approach. And when it comes to control,

many of us parents need to as well.


Are You Out of Control?

Parenting is a daunting task when you consider the consequences of major decisions like these:

• how your teen spends his free time

• which friends she spends time with

• how he makes and spends money

• how she approaches her schoolwork

• when he starts driving

• what she eats, where she eats, and how much

• whether he goes to church or youth group

• what she looks like

• what level of personal hygiene he attains

• whether or not she uses foul language

• what parties and other social events he attends

• whether she smokes, drinks, or uses illegal drugs


It’s no wonder so many parents would like to control those decisions until the last possible second. But is that wise, not to mention doable? Here are some questions you may be asking about control as you try to set boundaries with your teenager:

•Which parts of a situation belong to me and which belong to my teen?

•What’s mine to decide and what’s not?

•How much “rope” can I give my daughter before she “hangs” herself?

•What does my son get to choose, and what do I choose for him?

• Should I make my teenager go to church with the family?

•What about rules?

•What about freedom?

•What about being responsible?

•What about respect?

•What about his hair?

• How do I get her to do her homework?

•What if my daughter is already 18 years old?


Over and over I’ve heard parents ask questions like these. Control is one of the biggest issues they encounter, and one of the most misunderstood.


Illusions of Control

I try to base all my counseling on what Jesus said in John 8:32: “Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” Jesus was talking about a particular truth—who He is as the Son of God. But I believe His observation applies to all reality. Knowing and understanding the truth—what reality actually is, like it or not—can set you free from the problems that come with lies and mistaken perceptions.


Error, wrong thinking, skewed beliefs, and misconceptions lie at the root of many, if not most, conflicts. That’s certainly true of control. The more accurately you think about something, the healthier your life will be. The converse is also true. The more inaccurate your thinking, the

more dysfunctional your relationship with your teen will be—even if you assume your thinking is fine, which we all usually do.


So here’s a good place to start: thinking more accurately about control, in order to undo common confusion about its role in relationships.

Many tensions between parents and teens boil down to the issue of control. Sometimes it’s not visible on the surface, but lurks below. For instance, you may think you’re pressuring your son or daughter to work harder in school to have a better chance at college scholarships. But the deeper issue may be how you feel about the way your teen spends time—texting from that iPhone or hanging with friends instead of doing homework. The two of you are battling for the right to decide.


There are as many myths about control as there are days of the year.

Our culture doesn’t make it any easier; an alien visiting our society might think we’re all a bunch of control freaks. Consider the phrases we use that have the word control in them. Here’s a starter list:

• remote control

• quality control

• cruise control

• climate control

• traffic control

• crowd control

• master control

• weight control

• arms control


We talk about controlling our destinies, our lives; we study ways to control the aging process; we attend expensive seminars in an effort to control our eating habits, anger, financial future, thinking, moods . . . and children.


Self-help books and workshops—in the Christian arena as well as the general market—promise control. Much of the psychology practiced in the U.S.—cognitive behavioral therapy—focuses on control, too.


Don’t get me wrong. The idea of having control is not bad in itself.

Therapy that focuses on what you can legitimately control, as well as what you can’t, is a healing and helpful tool.


But a person’s fixation on needing control, which I often observe as a therapist, and the illusion that you need or have more control than you actually do, turn healthy ownership into a control-freak thing.


Most of us want control, plain and simple—and the more the better, thank you very much! That’s because when we have control, we can make things turn out the way we want. We can be happy and avoid pain or displeasure.


If only it were that easy.


High-control people believe the best way to avoid pain is to keep a tight rein on the things around them—including key people, especially their children. After all, there can be a whole lot of hurt when children go astray.


I met such an over-controlling parent many years ago when I worked at a psychiatric hospital. I was the primary therapist for a teenage girl from a military family. She was rebelling, skipping school, experimenting with alcohol. Her family diagnosed her as a “behavior problem.”

In our second weekly family therapy session, the girl’s father—a high-ranking officer—stated emphatically that the only reason something goes wrong is because somebody didn’t do his or her job correctly. Therefore, that somebody is at fault. He was referring to his teenage daughter, of course; everything else was under his control.


This father had an exaggerated sense of control, and a huge misconception about it. He’d carried his “systems checklist” mentality home from the office, refusing to see that there were some things he

couldn’t control. He also refused to see that his campaign to over control his daughter was partially—though not completely—to blame for her rebellion. Her behavior was an attempt to escape his over control.


When you think of control, you might have visions of someone like this father—or a power-mad villain from an old James Bond movie.

While I’ve met a few who could have been cast for such a part, the vast majority of us parents are much more “normal” in our desire for control.

But because our culture encourages us to seek control—and because some Christians overemphasize its role in parenting—it’s important to look at the way you think about the topic.


Everyone Has “Control Issues”

Most parents don’t behave as extremely as the aforementioned dad. But that doesn’t mean they have no problems with control. It’s not an “all or nothing” proposition.


Take, for example, the issue of trying to “guarantee” what will happen to our children.


My early years were spent as a missionary’s kid in Ecuador. In that culture there was a life philosophy that could be summarized as “Quesera, sera”—“What will be, will be.” There was no “I am the captain of my fate and the master of my soul” quoted at graduation ceremonies.

As a result, I’ve come to see the truth in the following observation:

• You can drive the safest car built in the world (control).

• You can place your infant in the safest car seat manufactured (control).

• You can be the safest driver in your state, with all the necessary skills for every possible situation (control).

• Yet a drunk driver can still cross the double yellow line, hit you head-on, and take the life of your baby.


“Que sera, sera.”

Where is your control now?


You were very wise and responsible. You did everything correctly. You controlled the things that were yours to control. But after all was said and done, there was no guarantee that you could keep your child safe. There were a lot of elements—including people—you couldn’t control, yet which could have a huge impact on you.


“But I want a guarantee!” you may plead.

You’re not alone. As parents, we want certainty that we can keep our children safe and raise them so they’ll turn out well, following scriptural guidance.

But there is no guarantee.


“That kind of thinking is negative and scary! I don’t like that.”

Yes, it is scary.


“But what about the verse that says, ‘Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it’?”


Proverbs 22:6 communicates a very wise principle. But it’s not a guarantee that magically or spiritually overrides your teenager’s free will—which, by the way, was given to him or her by God Himself. This biblical principle does not obligate God to you or force Him to make your teenager turn out the way you think he or she should.

“But—”

I hear you.

We parents want control so badly because we think that if we do the right things, our kids will turn out the way we want them to. It doesn’t matter whether we’re Christians, or whether we’re “high-control” people or think we have no control at all. We still want it.


We want to be able to lay our heads on our pillows at night, with our teenagers snugly tucked into their clean beds, and know we did it “right.”


Since there aren’t any guarantees, many parents settle for illusions of control. An illusion often is more comforting than the truth. That may sound harsh, but I’ve found in my years as a therapist that most people have a hard time with the truth.


Reality can be a hard pill to swallow. But last time I checked, whenever you fight reality you lose.

That’s just the way life is. Reality wins.


The only absolute assurance, for those who have a relationship with God through Christ, is that eventually they’ll enjoy life forever with the One who made and redeemed them. That’s guaranteed.


The rest of life isn’t. Ask parents who’ve lost a son or daughter to an automobile accident on the way home from a church meeting, or in a rock climbing fall, or to the sudden onset of cancer, or in a school shooting incident, about guarantees. See what they have to say about control.


I know parents like these. I’ve looked into their tear-filled eyes and attempted to field the “Why?” questions. Maybe you are one. If so, I’m truly sorry.


No Control?

Does this mean our lives are careening, like cars with the brake lines cut, toward the edge of a cliff? Should we just take our hands off the wheel and brace for the crash? Why try to guide our teenagers at all?


Keep in mind that there are degrees of control. While you can’t guarantee the outcome, you can make a baby safer with a good car seat.


There are also different kinds of control: the kind that is actually yours to exercise and the kind that isn’t. The key in parenting is knowing which is which—and knowing what to do with each.


You need to keep and use the control you’re entitled to—or take hold of it if you’ve lost it.

And you want to lose the control you really don’t have in the first place—and give up illusions you may have about it.


It’s not easy to figure out! But that’s why you have this book. It explains what’s truly yours to control—and helps you quit trying to grasp control that doesn’t belong to you.

Believe it or not, when it comes to raising teenagers, losing control can be a wonderful and freeing thing!


Your Brain and Control

To understand your assumptions about control, it helps to understand what you’ve been telling yourself about it. Your need to control grows out of your experiences, and how they affect your thinking and decision making.


The neurology of your brain is complex, but for the moment let’s compare it to a jukebox.


I mean a real jukebox, not a digital one—the old kind with vinyl 45s inside and a panel of buttons, each corresponding to a hit single. You watch as the record drops onto the turntable, the arm swings over, and the needle slips into the grooves to play your selection. If you have teenagers, maybe you can remember when these weren’t called antiques!


That’s what your brain is like. Each “record” has etched on it a simple, short phrase known as a belief. A belief is a statement of what you think is fact. Most of your beliefs were recorded, catalogued, and filed in your jukebox during the first seven to ten years of your life.


When you hear the word belief, you may think first of religious beliefs. But you have beliefs about every subject under the sun. You use them every day as you try to make sense of life. They’re your worldview— all on a bunch of 45s!


So your thought process plays out (no pun intended) in the following sequence:

1. A new experience happens, or a series of similar experiences. Perhaps a bully trips you in the school cafeteria, and you land in the middle of your own mashed potatoes. Or you feel guilty while reading a “how to raise a teenager” book.

2. You attempt to understand this situation as best you can.

3. You draw a conclusion from the experience. It may be based on

incomplete information available at that moment, but you

assume your conclusion is true.

4. A recording of your conclusion is made into a belief statement

and filed in your jukebox. The new record is polished, catalogued,

and ready for future reference.

5. Every time a similar situation arises, that record plays. You

respond according to the belief it contains.


We all have one record that sounds pretty much the same. It says, “All my records, all my beliefs, are true. I can even validate them with life experiences if I have to!”

We’re quite defensive about our record collections. If you disagree with me, my defenses shout, “What do you think I am? Stupid? I wouldn’t believe a lie! I’m intelligent! I know what’s right and true, and I can back it up!”


If you’re willing to drop those defenses, you may find some of your records are a bit warped. Some conclusions you’ve drawn about walking in the school cafeteria may have been based on incomplete information. What you read in that parenting book may be partly true, but may not be the best advice for you and your situation.


Remember, most of your records were forged in your first seven to ten years—long before you ever thought of raising a teenager. Your beliefs about things like love and discipline—and control—may not be totally accurate.


There are plenty of books for Christians that tell you what you should have on your records. But I want to encourage you to think deeply about the “control songs” your jukebox is already playing and whether they’re true.


It matters because those records remain in the slots of your jukebox, some of them warped and misleading, waiting to be activated when life “pushes your buttons.”When one of them plays, it may sound funny to everyone but you. To you, it sounds true. Most of us, after all, never stop to question our beliefs; we just believe them.


Some of your records may need to be remixed, updated, even tossed. This book will help you do that with records that revolve (so to speak) around the subject of control.


Many of us have whole albums on that subject. One of yours probably features the hit single about how every parent’s job is to make sure his or her children turn out “right.” Even though most of us don’t quite know what that standard means, we feel obliged to meet it.


Oh, how wrong that record is.

If it were true, it would mean God messed up.


Control: A Reality Check

In Genesis we read about a place called the Garden of Eden. It was a perfect environment, a perfect “home.”


In this perfect place there were two perfect people—God’s children, Adam and Eve. Wouldn’t that be nice to have perfect children?


And there was a perfect God—the perfect parent.

There was also a rule: “You must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat of it you will surely die” (Genesis 2:17).


You’ve probably heard the rest of the story.

Adam and Eve chose foolishly, defying what God had told them.

Our human decay and ultimate death are stark reminders of that wrong choice—made by perfect people in a perfect environment with a perfect parent.


So what did God do wrong? If He “trained them in the way they should go,” why did Adam and Eve choose the other option? If Proverbs 22:6 is a guarantee of success for parents, why wasn’t it a guarantee for the Author of the Book?


Enter free will.

I’m talking about a God-given freedom to choose—part of being created in His image. Adam and Eve exercised it, and your teenagers exercise it today.


“But I want them to turn out right,” you say.

Yes. I agree with you. But that’s not your job.

“But I want the best for them, for their sakes.”

I won’t argue with that. But it’s still not your job to make sure they do.

“But—”

I know. I’m a parent, too.


You do have a job, which I’ll get to in the next chapter; it’s just not that one. You could do everything exactly “right” all 18 years of your child’s life under your roof—assuming you could know what “exactly right” was—and he or she could still choose “wrong.”


God has given our children the option to be foolish, even to sin.

He doesn’t want them to be foolish or to sin. But they’re free moral agents to pick right or wrong, wisdom or folly, truth or lies, righteousness or evil.


To a parent, that’s scary news. There really is a whole lot more that you can’t control than you can control.


But before you get too discouraged, rest assured that we’ll get to the topic of influence—of which you have a great amount with your children. You are not powerless as the parent of a teenager.


For now, though, I want you to go back and read the fine print on the bottom of that contract—the one you signed when you became a parent, the one that includes the possibility of having your heart broken.


“I never signed up for that,” you might say.

But that’s exactly what you did. You opened your heart to the possibility that it would be broken by the very child you love and want the best for.


You signed up to raise a little person—one for whom you’re responsible but are not able to control.


So before we go on, take time right now (yes, I mean right now, or you probably won’t do it at all) to contemplate the powerful words of “The Serenity Prayer.”


It may be familiar. You even may have it memorized. But as you reflect on it this time, don’t do it as an abstraction or for somebody else’s benefit. Do it practically, for yourself as the parent of a teenager. Make it a personal prayer from your heart to God.



THE SERENITY PRAYER

God grant me the serenity

To accept the things I cannot change;

Courage to change the things I can;

And wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;

Enjoying one moment at a time;

Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;

Taking, as He did, this sinful world

As it is, not as I would have it;

Trusting that He will make all things right

If I surrender to His will;

That I may be reasonably happy in this life

And supremely happy with Him

Forever in the next.

The Jesus who never lived:Exposing False Christ and Finding the Real Jesus

It's the 15th, time for the Non~FIRST blog tour!(Non~FIRST will be merging with FIRST Wild Card Tours on January 1, 2009...if interested in joining, click HERE!)

The feature author is:

H. Wayne House

and his book:

The Jesus Who Never Lived: Exposing False Christs and Finding the Real Jesus

Harvest House Publishers (August 1, 2008)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

H. Wayne House (ThD, JD) is a Distinguished Research Professor of Biblical and Theological Studies at Faith Evangelical Seminary (Tacoma, WA). and Adjunct Professor of Law, Trinity Law School of Trinity International University. He is the New Testament editor of the Nelson Study Bible and Nelson Illustrated Bible Commentary, and the General Editor of Nelson Exegetical Commentary (42 vols), Israel: the Land and the People, and Charts of Bible Prophecy, among the 30 books that he has authored, co-authored, or edited.

Dr. House has been a professor of biblical studies, theology or law for more than thirty years at such places as Western Seminary in Portland, Oregon; Dallas Theological Seminary, Dallas, Texas; Simon Greenleaf School of Law, Anaheim, California; Michigan Theological Seminary, Plymouth, Michigan, and Trinity Graduate School and Trinity Law School, Santa Ana, California, California campus of Trinity International University, Deerfield, IL. Through this internet office we hope to help those who are interested in several topics within apologetics, including Christianity and culture, law, science, cultism, philosophy, theology, and biblical studies. Dr. House also leads Bible study tours to Israel, Jordan, Egypt, Rome, Greece, and Turkey.

Visit his
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

What’s It All About?

In the Broadway play and later film Jesus Christ Superstar, Mary Magdalene asks, “What’s it all about?” as she tries to figure out who this man called Jesus really is. Certainly there are aspects about the song she sings, and suggestions made in the play, contrary to what we know from the canonical Gospels about the relationship of Mary and Jesus. But she does pose some important issues. She is puzzled about how to relate to Jesus as she has with other men, and this association with Him has made major changes in her emotions, actions, and thoughts. The reason she struggles is her perception that “he’s just a man.” If Jesus is just a man, then why does He captivate her so and cause her to evaluate herself to the depths of her soul? Such questions about Jesus and the impact of His ministry, death, and resurrection have been asked for two millennia.

Every year around Christmas and Easter the news media show an interest in Jesus. Rarely do they speak to people who believe in the Jesus who has been worshipped by the church since its earliest period until now. Rather, the fascination is with a Jesus re-imaged by people who have little interest in the historical record preserved in the New Testament.

This interest in Jesus, unconnected to the earliest tradition and history we have of Him, is not a new phenomenon. Toward the end of the first century of the Christian era, perceptions of Jesus began to arise that were different from what He said about Himself as recorded in Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John and proclaimed by the apostle Paul. Jesus has become the favorite of ancient heretics, founders of various world religions, modern novelists, Hollywood and documentary filmmakers, New Age teachers, adherents of popular religion, and over-the-edge liberal scholars. He is by far the most popular, and possibly most distorted, figure of history.

When Christianity was less than a hundred years old, we find two groups at different ends of the spectrum in their views of Jesus. One Jewish group, known as the Ebionites (late first century), accepted Jesus as the Messiah from God, acknowledged His humanity, but rejected His deity. On the other side were the Gnostics (early second century), who accepted Jesus as a divine figure but denied His true humanity. This rise of Gnosticism coincides with the demise, though not extinction, of Jewish Christianity, toward the end of the first century and beginning of the second century. Such views of the Christ were rejected by the apostolic church, and the view supported by the New Testament was finally put in creedal form, in a number of creeds, by the end of the fifth century.

Since those early centuries various religions have been enamored of Jesus. Eastern religions see Jesus as one of the avatars, or manifestations of God, and Islam considers Him a prophet (see chapter 8 for both topics). In the former, Jesus is an Eastern mystic, sometimes even viewed as having been trained in India, and in the latter as one who promoted Islam.

Muhammad was a pagan who had contact with Jews and Christians from Arabia and finally became monotheistic, in the first quarter of the seventh century after Christ embracing one of the over 300 Arabian deities: Allah, the moon god. In his limited investigation into Christianity, he came to believe, as is recorded in the Qur’an, that Jesus was born of a virgin, was sinless throughout His life, performed miracles, ascended to God, and will come again in judgment. He acknowledged all of these things about Jesus, considering none of these to be true of himself. Nonetheless, Jesus is never considered more than one of the prophets of Islam; He is not God in the flesh. Inside the Dome of the Rock on the Temple Mount, the walls are inscribed with statements that God does not have a Son, specifically addressed against the Christian doctrines of the divinity of Jesus and the Trinity. As we shall see in a later chapter, Muhammad and his followers misunderstood the Christian doctrine of God.

In the eighteenth century, with the Enlightenment came skepticism about Christianity and absolute truth in religion. Biblical scholars and philosophers began to scrutinize claims that Jesus was more than human, and for over 200 years a search, or “quest,” for the historical Jesus has been pursued. We have now entered the third quest. While many within the second quest remain skeptical, there is growing support among some in the third quest for the credibility of the Jesus portrayed in the New Testament. In contrast to those who have little regard for biblical and extrabiblical history, scholars of both liberal and conservative persuasion now agree that within a couple of years following the death of Christ, the church preached a consistent message about His death and resurrection. Christ’s followers considered Him both God and man, Lord and Savior. And those who became believers in the latter part of the first century and early second century continued to accept Jesus as portrayed in the Gospels. The church’s belief in Jesus’ deity and humanity did not begin with the Council of Nicaea in AD 325, as encouraged by the Emperor Constantine; that belief was present from the church’s very beginning.

The Importance of Jesus

Though contemporary novelists and media sensationalists never tire of trying to find some new angle on Jesus to attract an audience, most serious historians and biblical scholars are impressed with the evidence in the Gospels for the Jesus who lived, taught, performed miracles, died, was buried, and rose again from the dead. An early twentieth-century composition by a devoted believer captures the wonder of Jesus:

He was born in an obscure village, the child of a peasant woman. He grew up in another village, where he worked in a carpenter shop until He was thirty. Then for three years He was an itinerant preacher. He never wrote a book. He never held an office. He never had a family or owned a home. He didn’t go to college. He never visited a big city. He never traveled two hundred miles from the place where He was born. He did none of the things that usually accompany greatness. He had no credentials but Himself.

He was only thirty-three when the tide of public opinion turned against Him. His friends ran away. One of them denied Him. He was turned over to His enemies and went through the mockery of a trial. He was nailed to a cross between two thieves.

While He was dying, His executioners gambled for His garments, the only property He had on earth. When He was dead, He was laid in a borrowed grave through the pity of a friend.

Nineteen centuries have come and gone, and today He is the central figure of the human race. All the armies that ever marched, all the navies that ever sailed, all the parliaments that ever sat, all the kings that ever reigned, put together, have not affected the life of man on this earth as much as that one solitary life.

But believers in the divine Jesus aren’t the only ones who admire Him. Marcus Borg, a member of the Jesus Seminar and distinguished professor emeritus of philosophy and religion at Oregon State University, speaks as a skeptical historian about the significance and uniqueness of Jesus:

The historical Jesus is of interest for many reasons. Not least of these is his towering cultural significance in the nearly two thousand years since his death. No other figure in the history of the West has ever been accorded such extraordinary status. Within a few decades of his death, stories were told about his miraculous birth. By the end of the first century, he was extolled with the most exalted titles known within the religious tradition out of which he came: Son of God, one with the Father, the Word become flesh, the bread of life, the light of the world, the one who would come again as cosmic judge and Lord. Within a few centuries he had become Lord of the empire that had crucified him.

For over a thousand years, thereafter, he dominated the culture of the West: its religion and devotion, its art, music, and architecture, its intellectual thought and ethical norms, even its politics. Our calendar affirms his life as a dividing point in world history. On historical grounds alone, with no convictions of faith shaping the verdict, Jesus is the most important figure in Western (and perhaps human) history.

These words of exuberant praise from a historian who does not accept Jesus as God in the flesh further indicates the amazing manner in which a human being was able to draw devoted followers by the magnetism of His life and teachings. Jaroslav Pelikan, noted historian of Yale University, has said of Jesus,

Regardless of what anyone may personally think or believe about him, Jesus of Nazareth has been the dominant figure in the history of Western culture for almost twenty centuries. If it were possible, with some sort of supermagnet, to pull up of that history every scrap of metal bearing at least a trace of his name, how much would be left? It is from his birth that most of the human race dates its calendars, it is by his name that millions curse and in his name that millions pray.

The world would be a considerably different place, with far less progress, peace, and hope than we possess today, had He not lived.

Liking Jesus Without Knowing Him

Just about everyone likes Jesus. How could they not, in view of the outstanding reception He has received throughout history, right? Not really. Much of the fascination with Jesus comes from those who really don’t know much about Him. Were He to confront them with His teachings and call them to a life of obedience to His will, they might be part of the recalcitrant crowd crying out, “Crucify, crucify him!” (Luke 23:21).

Today a large number of people say they are attracted to Jesus but dislike His church. They see within the church people who are inconsistent in their practice of Christian ethics and fail to follow what they understand to be the teachings of Jesus. The church is viewed as judgmental, whereas Jesus said not to judge. The church speaks against sins such as homosexual relationships, whereas Jesus loved all people regardless of their sin, such as the woman caught in adultery. The church has interest in political matters, but Jesus did not involve Himself in politics and worked only to ease people’s burdens. (Whether these notions are true or not will be briefly discussed in chapter 12.)

This attempt to understand Jesus is often done without any reference to what we really know about Him. We simply guess who He is and how He acted—most often, how we think He ought to be and act to be acceptable to the twenty-first-century mind. Apart from the appeal to divine revelation, this is the manner in which He has been viewed over the centuries, including the century in which He lived on earth.

“Who Do People Say That I Am?”

As Jesus traveled with His disciples to Caesarea Philippi, He posed an important question: “Who do people say that I am?” (Mark 8:27). The response to this question divides light and darkness, death and life. The disciples said that some believed Him to be an important prophet, but the apostles—specifically Peter—proclaimed His deity, a truth revealed to him by the Father. It is this authentic Christ, based on credible biblical and extrabiblical sources, whom we must encounter.

Each of us is confronted with important questions and priorities in this life. Some are of minor importance, but others have lasting, even eternal significance. The most important issue we must squarely confront is our relationship with God and, consequently, our final destiny. This is true not only for people today, it was also important in the first century when Jesus the Messiah came to earth. This is evident in the words of Christ that if people did not believe that He was “from above” (heaven), they would die in their sins (John 8:21-24).

Jesus the Prophet of God

In general, people liked Jesus Christ, as is true even today. The Scripture says that “the common people heard him gladly” (Mark 12:37). Saying this, however, does not mean they always understood His message (Matthew 13:10-17) or understood who He was:

When Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” And they said, “Some say John the Baptist, others say Elijah, and others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” Simon Peter replied, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” And Jesus answered him, “Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 16:13-17).

The people during that time enjoyed what so many of us greatly desire—personal communication with the Son of God—yet they failed to understand Him. Many of them were miraculously fed and healed by Him. They heard His word with their own ears and saw Him with their own eyes. No doubt many also touched Him with their hands. To have the opportunity these people enjoyed seems too wonderful to imagine.

But when Jesus asked the disciples who the people thought He was, they cited many important figures of Jewish history, from John the Baptist (apparently thought to have been raised from the dead) to Elijah, who was to be forerunner of the Messiah (Malachi 4:5), to Jeremiah, who confronted the Northern Kingdom of Israel for its sins, or to some other prophet, as seen below:

John the Baptist. John the Baptist would have been a natural choice for the identification of Jesus, particularly by those who had not encountered John personally and maybe hadn’t heard the news of his death. John spent his ministry in the desert, baptizing in Bethabara beyond the Jordan, whereas the people in view here are in Galilee or maybe the Golan. Otherwise it seems unlikely they would have made such a connection, unless they believed that Jesus was the resurrected John, which is what Herod Antipas thought: “At that time Herod the tetrarch heard the report about Jesus and said to his servants, ‘This is John the Baptist; he is risen from the dead, and therefore these powers are at work in him’” (Matthew 14:1-2). In the words of D.A. Carson:

His conclusion, that this was John the Baptist, risen from the dead (v. 2), is of great interest. It reflects an eclectic set of beliefs, one of them the Pharisaic understanding of resurrection. During his ministry John had performed no miracles (John 10:41); therefore Herod ascribes the miracles in Jesus’ ministry, not to John, but to John “risen from the dead.” Herod’s guilty conscience apparently combined with a superstitious view of miracles to generate this theory.

Though Herod’s superstition may be the cause for his comments, such a view is not unheard of in literature that precedes the New Testament. Albright and Mann say, “)The reappearance of dead heroes was a well-known theme in contemporary Jewish thought…[Second Maccabees 15:12-16] speaks of Jeremiah and Onias appearing to Judas Maccabaeus, and [2 Esdras 2:18-19] refers to the coming of Isaiah and Jeremiah.”

Elijah. Identifying Jesus as Elijah may appear surprising, except that Jesus’ ability to do miracles and the expectation of Messiah’s coming might have caused the people to believe He was preparing the way for the Messiah in agreement with Malachi’s prophecy:

Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet

Before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the Lord.

—Malachi 4:5 nkjv

The disciples had similar expectations about Elijah, whom Jesus connected to John the Baptist as His forerunner (Matthew 17:10-12).

There are indeed many similarities between Elijah and Jesus. Elijah exercised control over the forces of nature, telling Ahab his land would have no precipitation for several years (1 Kings 17:1-2).

In the midst of this judgment against Israel, God sent Elijah to the Phoenician city of Zarephath of Sidon, to a widow and her son who were facing starvation. To test her faith, Elijah asked her to make him some bread from the handful of flour and the little oil she had left. After she complied with Elijah’s request, the jar of flour and the jug of oil did not become empty until the famine ended (17:14-16).

Later, the woman’s son died, and the prophet of God brought him back to life (17:17-24). These spectacular miracles performed for a non-Israelite mother and her son reveal not only the power of God but also the love of God for all people.

Those people who saw the ministry and attitude of Jesus no doubt considered Him to be like Elijah because He also controlled the forces of nature. On the mountain near the shore of the Lake of Galilee He multiplied bread and fish (Matthew 15:29-38), and He raised a widow’s son who had died (Luke 7:11-17).

Jeremiah. The last prophet to whom Jesus is likened is Jeremiah. What in the life and character of Jeremiah served as a basis for comparison with Jesus?

Donald Hagner says there are a “number of obvious parallels between Jesus and Jeremiah, such as the preaching of judgment against the people and the temple, and especially in suffering and martyrdom.” The message of Jeremiah was God’s judgment against an unfaithful people (Jeremiah 1:16). Jesus presented a similar kind of message when He pronounced woe against Chorazin and Bethsaida (Matthew 11:20-24).

Jesus offered healing and solace to the sick and downtrodden, but to the proud and rebellious, the words of this “prophet from Nazareth” (Matthew 21:11) were sharp and powerful. Another point of similarity may be Jesus’ cleansing of the temple and His indictment of those there (Matthew 21:10-13), and Jeremiah’s rebuke in his famous temple sermon (Jeremiah 7:1-15). Both texts even accuse the unfaithful of making God’s house a “den of robbers.”

One of the prophets. Even if there was disagreement among the people about Jesus’ identity, one thing is certain: They knew He was special, for He was viewed at minimum as a prophet. Just listening and watching Jesus revealed that He was powerful and insightful. This testimony—that the people identified Jesus with the prophets—demonstrates they held diverse eschatological expectations but there was no mass acknowledgment of Him as Messiah. The occasional reference to Jesus as the Son of David, found several times before Matthew 16, does not contradict the lack of recognition of Him as Messiah.

Fortunately, we also see among some non-Jews a different response. The Samaritan woman at the well first viewed Jesus as a Jewish man, then a prophet, then the Messiah, and finally the Savior (John 4:4-42).

Whether they believed He was God’s Messiah or one of the great prophets of Israel, all thought He was a person of great importance with divine authority and a powerful presence and message.

Messiah, Son of God

After the disciples responded to Jesus’ question about how the people viewed Him, He asked, “But who do you say that I am?” (Mark 8:29). Would the disciples have a more accurate perception of their master than the general populace? You would think that their intimate relationship with Jesus would have made His identity clear in their minds. Yet this is not what we find. Though Peter correctly says that Jesus is the Messiah (christos, Greek translation of Hebrew mashiach, “anointed one”), the Son of the living God (16:16), Jesus says that the knowledge that gave rise to this confession came from heaven rather than from human insight (Matthew 16:13-17).

Is this confession true? Or is Jesus no more than a man, as the character of Mary sings in Jesus Christ Superstar? The Jesus who came to earth 2000 years ago has spawned a myriad of ideas about who He was and is. No more important subject than this confronts us today. Even among those who do not embrace the bodily resurrection of the crucified Messiah and His claims to deity, there is considerable praise. As Borg said of Him, “On historical grounds alone, with no convictions of faith shaping the verdict, Jesus is the most important figure in Western (and perhaps human) history.”

But is He only this—or is He, as Peter confessed, the Messiah, the Son of the living God? Our crucial quest in this book is to discover the true Jesus among the various visions of Him that have been constructed since His death and resurrection.