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Exegetical Theology: Utilizing God’s Blessing, Part 1—The Blessing in the Old Testament.
We speak it at the end of every service. Maybe it’s something you also use at the end of a shut-in visit or private baptism. Do we think about what it means, or has it become rote and mechanical, the so-called “period” at the end of the procession? If so, God encourages us to utilize his blessing differently! We begin today with the use of the blessing in the Old Testament.
בָּרַךְ is a basic Bible word that usually means something like “fill with strength” or “to endue someone with special power” (HALOT). God is appropriately the subject of such expressions (either directly or indirectly) as we may pronounce his blessing, with people as the object, or even inanimate objects employed by mankind (e.g. the Sabbath, a field, bread, or work). Sometimes this is reversed with mankind as the subject and God the object. In such cases בָּרַךְ is rendered as something like, “kneel down” (BDB) or “praise, adore” since it “declare(s) God to be the source of the special power” (HALOT), i.e., we “bless” the Lord because we identify him as the source of all blessing in our lives.
This may only be a review for you, but there’s something to be said for it being such a basic expression. בָּרַךְ comes up so frequently in the Old Testament that it is even used as a greeting, though as a stronger expression than the typical שׁלום (BDB). The Hebrews would use בָּרַךְ to say hello and goodbye (Gen 24:60; 1 Sam 13:10; 2 Kg 4:29; 1 Chr 18:10), and they would also use it in expressions of thanksgiving, congratulations, or homage (Neh 11:2; Job 31:20; Ps 72:15; Prov 30:11; see BDB for a more comprehensive list). These examples from various time periods demonstrate that the blessing was a common, yet meaningful part of their lives as they framed daily well-being and physical livelihood in terms of what God could do for them.
If the Hebrews utilized God’s blessing so often, might we do likewise? And whenever we do, God help us remember its significance! The next time you look your people in the eyes during the blessing on Sunday morning, or your little five-year as you put your hand on his head and bless him before bedtime—who may even respond with, “thank you, daddy”, like my son often did—remember that you are pronouncing God’s power upon them to provide them with all the things they need. What a gift God has given us to dispense! Share that gift frequently and meaningfully!
Many Old Testament blessings speak of physical blessings, as makes sense under the old covenant for God’s chosen nation. But the blessings do not end with the physical, because the ultimate blessing would be the promised Savior, who would be physically descended from that chosen nation and would bring eternal blessings to all nations. So next month, we will discuss the use of the blessing in the New Testament, which more clearly goes beyond just our physical needs.
Rev. Nate Walther serves as pastor at Grace in Minot, ND
Systematic Theology: Deliberately Made
For the first six days of this universe’s existence, God created things simply by speaking them into being. He said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. He said, “Let there be dry land and seas,” and there were dry land and seas. On Day Five, he said, “Let there be animals in the seas and the sky,” and there were sea creatures and birds. Early on Day Six, he said, “Let the land produce animals,” and animals were walking and crawling all over the land.
God could have done something similar when it came to creating human beings. He could simply have said, “Let there be human beings,” and there would have been human beings. God, however, chose to use a different method to create the first two human beings. Moses tells us, “Then the LORD God formed a man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being” (Gen 2:7, NIV). Later, “the LORD God caused the man to fall into a deep sleep; and while he was sleeping, he took one of the man’s ribs and then closed up the place with flesh. Then the LORD God made a woman from the rib he had taken out of the man” (Gen 2:21–22, NIV).
What can we learn from the different manner in which God created the first human beings? First, we can see the importance of our physical bodies in who we are. God’s creation of our physical bodies wasn’t accidental or incidental. It was deliberate, purposeful, and essential. God took the time to form the man’s body out of the dust. He took the time to form the woman’s body out of the man’s rib. Those acts give value to our bodies, not just as a place for our souls to reside temporarily, but as invaluable things in themselves.
Second, God’s method of creating the first man and the first woman shows that the sexed nature of our bodies also is essential to who we are. When “no suitable helper was found” for the man from among the animals (Gen 2:20, NIV), God did not create another man. He created a woman. Again, this wasn’t accidental. It was deliberate and purposeful. The man’s maleness was a deliberate and purposeful part of who he was. The woman’s femaleness was a deliberate and purposeful part of who she was.
All this shows us that our body, including the sexed nature of our body, is an essential part of who we are. God knit our bodies together in our mothers’ wombs (Ps 139:13) and made us male or female on purpose. We are indeed “fearfully and wonderfully made,” as David proclaimed (Ps 139:14, NIV). And part of the fearful and wonderful way in which God has made us is the deliberate and purposeful way in which he has made our physical bodies—either male or female—just as they are.
Rev. Steven Lange serves as pastor at Hope in Louisville, KY
Historical Theology: Arius
Last month we saw that the three ecumenical creeds all have potentially misleading names. The designation “Arian controversy” is likewise potentially misleading, as it might imply that Arius was the originator of the heresy or even its most historically significant advocate. He likely wasn’t either of those things.
Arius was born in modern-day Libya and became a priest in Alexandria, Egypt in 313. Arius, along with other Africans, was very concerned about a heresy that had caused many problems in the church in the previous century—Sabellianism. Sabellianism presented God as being just one person, and so Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are not considered distinct persons. (For this reason Sabellianism has become known in modern times as “Modalism.”)
So it’s no surprise that Arius and others wanted to emphasize over against Sabellianism that there was a real distinction between the Father and the Son. But as often happens with heresy, eagerness to defend one aspect of Scriptural truth went too far and attacked another Scriptural truth—in this case, the full divinity and eternality of the Son. When Alexander, the Bishop of Alexandria, would teach about the eternal generation of the Son, this sounded to Arius and others as being essentially Sabellian. After all, Arius concluded, if the Son always existed, then this generation could not be a real generation, and that means this distinction being posited between the Father and the Son is merely fictive, a la Sabellianism.
When Arius argued back that the Son had to have had a beginning, Alexander excommunicated him. When the larger African church backed Alexander, Arius and his friends went elsewhere. Still, Arius had considerable popular support in Africa. He was known as a persuasive teacher and was perhaps the first churchman to realize that setting your theology to music—especially catchy music—could be the best way to propagandize your polemical cause. While little of them has survived, Arius’s hymns became quite popular. As both Alexander and Arius called on church leaders from throughout the empire in their support, it was not long before the entire Greek-speaking church of the East was caught up in controversy.
The Council of Nicaea would formally condemn and banish Arius in 325. But that was not the end of Arius, and that was not the end of Arianism either. As far as Arius goes, on some occasions he would find himself welcomed back by either Constantine or smaller church councils; on other occasions he would find himself again rejected and banished. But even before his death in 336, Arius was no longer the principal advocate of the heresy that had become known as “Arianism.” Other church leaders, with their own specific ways of articulating the Father-Son distinction, had taken up the mantle of arguing that the Son was not of the same essence as the Father. While Arius may have been the spark of the controversy, others would prove to be the more significant advocates of a subordinationist theology, until these Trinitarian debates were largely brought to a close at the Council of Constantinople in 381.
For more on Arius and the Arian Controversy, go to fourthcentury.com, Dr. Glen Thompson’s website about Fourth Century Christianity.
Rev. Dr. Aaron Jensen serves as pastor of St. Peter’s in Monticello, MN.
Practical Theology: Congregational Merging as Bleach Application
Despite all the lives it has saved, the discipline of field surgery really comes down to one negative outflow question: loss of blood. Should the poor soldier lying on the battlefield lose too much blood, then the surgery becomes pointless. So also with church mergers: despite all the exciting ‘better together’ pamphlets and vaunted visions of future growth, congregational merging actually comes down to one negative outflow question: loss of members. If you lose too many members, the surgery becomes pointless.
Should congregations decide to merge, loss of members is both inevitable and trackable, with low-range guaranteed rates of at least 7-15%.[1] However, discussions over where this new family will worship (not to mention what to do with the former worship spaces) can quickly become contentious—and the negative outflow alarms may start blaring.
If you are currently engaging in or even contemplating a merger, my associates and I would strenuouslyencourage you to make worship in one place a primary goal. Now I don’t mean to overstep—in some cases this is an unattainable ideal. The merger in West Allis had the benefit of very accommodating geography; this is not the case in many places. But I do humbly think it’s important to at least study its viability, and I would like to list two attendant blessings, mainly for their personal surprise value.
First: church buildings, inanimate things by definition, are also natively capable of astounding acts of spiritual prestidigitation. In other words, a spiritual issue that had long since disappeared suddenly reappears on cue, as though pulled from a hat. The space where God visits his people in Word and Sacrament is sacred, and God’s people attenuate themselves to this truth as time passes—but the threat of losing that space brings an old guest out from behind the magician’s curtain. I was amazed at how quickly this ‘brick idolatry’[2] showed up, not only in my people but in me. Resentment often crested in my own breast. If my love for my brothers and sisters only activates when they’re standing in a certain building, then I’ve clearly gone wrong.
Second, sterilization can be useful. Living Hope currently worships in a converted gym, which charts pretty low on the ‘wow’ scale of liturgical vistas. The altar is a folding table with paraments, the rows and aisles merely a mismatched casserole of whatever spare chairs we had lying around. Yet as it turns out, this is a fantastic environment for a newly formed church to take its baby steps.[3] God used our gym to strip away all the normal visual and sensual markers that Christians associate with ‘going to church’—and in the sterilized petri dish we now call home, he grew us in unadorned fashion. My recommendation is, if you find yourself facing a similar situation, do not be afraid to turn your back on a beautiful building tied to some, to embrace a bleached-burned room floating free for all.
[1] A brief, but (generally) helpful overview of the different motivations for church mergers, as well as pros and cons, can be found in Chapter 2 of “Better Together: Making Church Mergers Work” by Jim Tomberlin and Warren Bird, 2012, Jossey-Bass Imprint.
[2] ‘Idolatry’ is admittedly a strong word—and I of course don’t mean to imply full blown bowing down to old pews and such. But I assume the pastors reading this know exactly what I’m dancing around: that nurtured-for-decades lumber love of where Grandma and Grandpa got married. When the building is put under threat, that love will spill out of its lane, sometimes in spectacular fashion.
[3] Anecdotally, within weeks, former members of the three legacy congregations unconsciously started calling themselves members of Living Hope. Within months, people freely announced they liked this space better than their former church building. This was unexpected, and we honestly didn’t go fishing for it.
Rev. Josh Zarling serves as pastor at Living Hope in West Allis, WI