“Then he sent forth a dove from him, to see if the waters had subsided from the face of the ground.” (Genesis 8:8)
The dove, a beautiful bird with a lovely cooing sound is one of God’s creatures that has many symbols. We find many of them in the Bible.
Let us learn a little bit about the nature of doves. Doves, turtle doves (a dainty dove), and pigeons (larger in size) are from the order Columbiformes family of birds. A dove’s eyes are on the sides of their head, having a 340° vision. They can see in front and in back at the same time. This is necessary for an animal of prey to watch out for predators.
Doves can fly up to speeds of fifty-five mph.
Doves will only descend when they know it is safe and trust where it will land. Once a dove starts its descent, it doesn’t have the ability to go in reverse.
We first read of the dove in Genesis 8:9. After Noah sent out a raven, he sent out a dove. It flew to and fro, then came back after no place to land. Seven days went by, and Noah sent the dove out again. This time by evening the dove brought back an olive branch. This is where the symbol of hope, peace, and a new beginning came from.
In the gospel accounts we read that the Holy Spirit descended as a dove when Jesus was baptized.
“The heavens were opened to him, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and coming to rest on him” (Matthew 3:16b; cf. Mark 1:10, Luke 3:22, John 1:32).
When Jesus was baptized the Holy Spirit came down and rested upon Jesus to stay. Just as when we are baptized, we receive the gift of the Holy Spirit, there is trust. And I say, “Oh, that I had wings like a dove! I would fly away and be at rest” (Psalm 55:6). A symbol of peace.
In the December 2015 issue of the Gospel Advocate magazine, my article, “The Widows Church of Christ” was published.[1] It focused on my experience one summer filling in at a small congregation near Freed-Hardeman University that at the time was composed exclusively of women and widows. In the piece, I briefly retold a conversation I had with one of the sisters there, rehearsed a few biblical examples of areas of women’s evangelistic involvement, and discussed women’s role in the assembly.
A reader called my attention to share her disagreement with the following few lines:
Scripture shows that Christian women prophesied and prayed in New Testament times (1 Corinthians 11:5; Acts 22:8-9), taught the Word of God accurately (Acts 18:26), and brought people to salvation (2 Timothy 1:5; 3:14-15). Christian women also served one another in many diverse ways (1 Timothy 5:2; Titus 2:3-5; Acts 9:36-43). Too, Christian women were patrons, fellow workers for the truth, and “house church” hostesses (Romans 16:1-16).[2]
She disagreed with my assessment, but not because the early church used women in its ministry. She said, “I disagree because we [i.e. women] are stupid.” I responded, “Who told you women are stupid?” She matter-of-factly responded, “we are.” I flatly denied her claim. I do not know who taught her this, all I know is that an entire life in the church has not changed her mind. Unfortunately, this has not been my only experience.
Many women in church ask me to speak on their behalf about ideas. Why? It is not because they are shy, but because they are “women” and women have no “right to share” ideas about the church. Perhaps it is not fair to put all the blame on the church. However, if the church truly embraces a culture of female dignity and equality as image-bearers of God, and equality as recipients of salvation (Gal 3:26-28), then it would be hoped that our sisters and fellow heirs in Christ should have a better perception of themselves as women in the church and society, and as wives and mothers in the home.
The issue at hand may be reduced to one word —power. Who has the power and who does not in the family, the church, in the world? Who should? Furthermore, what is power, and is it an innate quality or something else. The late Diana A. Garland (d. 2015), former dean of the Baylor School of Social Work at Baylor University, discusses power in detail within the sociological perspective of marital relationships and the impact of biblical interpretation in a chapter of her insightful volume, Family Ministry: A Comprehensive Guide.[3]
In it, she provides a working definition of power, explores Jesus’ teaching about power in Mark 9:33-37, summarizes gender roles in the home within the American context of the last century, and offers her interpretations of certain key biblical passages (Gen 1-3; Col 3:18-19; Eph 5:21-33, 1 Pet 3:1-6; 1 Cor 7, etc). It is argued here that Garland has presented a cohesive argument regarding power and Jesus’ teaching about power, but they are not complete discussions. Furthermore, Garland presents a brief social-historical summarization of gender roles which reflects a hierarchy —a model of marital headship— that has a built-in “inferiority of women” point of view. Garland’s interpretive trajectory is built on this framework.
This is problematic because Garland generalizes this viewpoint as one that is shared across cultures and eras, which it is not; moreover, she proceeds an attempt to dispel the notion that the biblical references of marriage and family headship do not teach an “inferiority of women” model. Garland offers an egalitarian framework, but although she raises important concerns, I believe a complementarian framework is a better-supported framework for matters of church work.
Definition of Power
Defining Power
In the first place, it is important to understand Garland’s point of view on power, gender roles, and hierarchy.[4] Garland provides a working definition of power that is helpful as a starting point for the present discussion and builds her discussion of power with M. Weber’s words in mind: “the probability that one person is able to exert his or her will despite resistance from others.” Such power may be an influence on another “whether or not that influence is resisted or even recognized by any of the actors.” From this it is suggested that power is not best thought of as a personal characteristic but instead as an influence from relational dynamics; thus, “power is,” Garland concludes, “a dynamic in all family relationships. We are always attempting to influence one another.”
While she regards power as ultimately “neutral” she points out that this relationship influence may be used for good (protect the vulnerable) or for ill (take advantage of the vulnerable).
Power and Gender Hierarchy
Garland paints a picture of a community and culture which shapes a power dynamic within the family that has historically given men more power in marriage than women.[5] Similarly, family theorists David H. Olson and John DeFrain suggest: “Tradition has dictated that considerable power go to the males in the family,” and add the caveat, “but women often have more power than they or anyone else admit.”[6] Still, Garland argues that culture and economics have played a historic role in reinforcing certain gender roles in the home and the workforce.
For example, Garland argues that in “traditional” homes husbands earned a living for the family, and gave their wives “an allowance,” and the wife, in turn, managed the emotional and interpersonal relationships of the home. As an extension of the prevailing culture, the church followed suit by emphasizing strong hierarchal gender roles where men had authority and power, while women were expected to submit and obey their husbands in keeping with a military-type paradigm of authority and submission.[7]
Vulnerable and Inferior Women
This unavoidably led to what Garland speaks of as a view of hierarchy—or headship—with a built-in “inferiority of woman” model. In this view, women are vulnerable, in need of protection, in need of structure, and in need of a man to insulate them from the attacks of Satan.[8] She cites Judith Miles as her “poster child” of this viewpoint, who argues in her own work, “I was to treat my own human husband as though he were the Lord, resident in our own humble home.”[9] Consequently, she would never question her husband on anything because such was to question the Lord himself.
Unfortunately, not only did some hold that women were theologically vulnerable, but some even advocated women were emotionally not “up to the task” of ministry. The rise of a liberation movement of women stems was therefore a response to this form of hierarchy model that held an implied inferiority view of women. As the woman’s liberation movement emerged in the 1960s and 1970s, the church, according to Garland, was threatened by the rise of demands by women for better (egalitarian) family relationships.
This is Garland’s starting point: a historically rigid view of hierarchy and gender roles in society and the home as reinforced by society and church, which not only implied an “inferior woman” model but in many cases overstated the headship of man.
Inferiority Illustrated
Garland’s portrayal should not be dismissed out of hand as it relates to the American church. The relationship between culture and church is not always easily discernible. The church has been affected by this type of “inferior women” hierarchy and has been reaping the whirlwind of this type of gender oversimplification. A few examples are in order.
Roy H. Lanier, Sr., in his Contending for the Faith column, “The Problem Page,” once responded to a letter from an elder’s wife.[10] Her problem focused on her husband’s mistreatment and undermining of her maternal role based on stereotypical female “problems” (emotional and biological). His dismissive treatment of her had now trickled down to their children. Lanier’s response was extensive and centered on a demonstration from Ephesians 5:21–33 that headship does not permit, nor condone, such treatment. Lanier argued, “it is obvious that her husband does not love her as Christ loves His church.”[11]
In F. Dale Simpson’s 1972 book on leadership, Simpson addressed the problem of women in the mission field: “most married missionaries have to overcome the resistance of their wives to go to a foreign mission field.”[12] Therefore, while
women are biologically stronger than men… are as intelligent as men and more careful about details… women are not as temperamentally suited for carrying out the great commission as men.
F. Dale Simpson, Leading the First-Century Church in the Space Age
Simpson offers only his experience and his opinion about the temperament of women in the mission field.
Long-time missionary and educator, Earl D. Edwards, provides a correction based on several behavioral studies.[13] Edwards rightly points out that different genders tend to have differences that are present at birth and socially amplified; yet, such gender-specific roles (functions) are gender differences and are not a reflection of gender inferiorities or superiorities.[14]
The Struggle is Real
In short, Garland is addressing a real problem about church culture and power, and how it relates to women and wives. It strikes at the heart of a woman’s worth in the home and in the church, and in ministry in general. The church would be wise to hear her call to be alert to this problem. However, Garland does not reject a simply abusive hierarchal power within the marriage as expressed in certain stereotyped gender roles. She clearly rejects any hierarchy with a power structure within marriage—i.e., male headship is not biblical and therefore not normative biblical teaching.
Jesus’ Teaching on Power
In the second place, Garland moves toward a brief exploration of Jesus’ teaching about power in Mark 9:33–37 and uses it to frame her discussion of power dynamics within two broad Christian family contexts: gender roles and discipline.[15]
And they came to Capernaum. And when he was in the house he asked them, “What were you discussing on the way?” But they kept silent, for on the way they had argued with one another about who was the greatest. And he sat down and called the twelve. And he said to them, “If anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all.” And he took a child and put him in the midst of them, and taking him in his arms, he said to them, “Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me, and whoever receives me, receives not me but him who sent me.” (Mark 9:33–37 ESV)
In this passage, Jesus’ illustrates and demonstrates the true use of power in light of the fact that the disciples had been arguing over “who was the greatest” (Mark 9:34).[16] The passage is, then, a corrective focused on “how his followers should use what they have to serve others rather than exalt themselves.”[17] Indeed, greatness is measured in service, in welcoming the smallest, least powerful, to the most vulnerable of society (Mark 9:35). Unfortunately, the disciples still did not retain the lesson since Jesus must correct them again (Mark 10:13–14); yet, Garland sees Jesus’ point as follows:
Rather than using your power to benefit yourself, use it to serve and benefit others. Order your life as Christians by protecting and caring for those most at risk of others abusing their power.[18]
Diana Garland, Family Ministry
Garland affirms that Jesus “used his own power to care for them” by completing the passion of the cross which he predicts three times (Mark 8:31; 9:30–31; 10:32–34). Power is never conserved for oneself but instead is the instrument to serve others. Elsewhere Jesus says,
The kings of the Gentiles exercise lordship over them, and those in authority over them are called benefactors. But not so with you. Rather, let the greatest among you become as the youngest, and the leader as one who serves. (Luke 22:25–26).
Garland’s Miscue
What appears to be lacking in Garland’s treatment of power in Mark 9:33–37 is the broader literary concern with discipleship in the kingdom of God which begins in Mark 8:26 and ends in Mark 10:52.[19] This is not a small matter because, in Mark 8:34, Jesus frames the discussion of true discipleship: “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.”
To follow Jesus means to submit to his plan, to submit to one’s role in the kingdom of God. “Discipleship… comes then with the commitment to humility and self-denial, rejection and suffering.”[20] The hard lesson the disciples continued to fail to appropriate is that the kingdom of God is at the disposal of others—especially the vulnerable—is the transformative experience of discipleship. Thus, power and one’s role are interwoven. Jesus demonstrates this by submitting to his role as God’s servant on the cross (Luke 22:42).
The matter is not simply about power and influence, for Mark 9:33–37 and Mark 10:13–16 teach that discipleship includes one’s submission to God’s transforming kingdom. It is not that Garland is wrong, but that her framing appears incomplete which, for the attention given to her work overall, is a significant oversight.
Overgeneralizations on Power and Gender Roles
In the third place, Garland generalizes that power and gender roles have been male-dominated across cultures and eras, which it is not.[21] This is an important drawback. The American church may be influenced by the surrounding culture and societal gender role expectations (even as traditional roles are presently eroding), but extrapolating from it that all cultures share a similar or comparable power structure along gender lines in families is problematic.
Cultural Anthropology
Not all cultures share the same expectations for gender roles. For example, Paul G. Hiebert, anthropologist and missionary, writes,
while most societies place some responsibility on the father for rearing the child, this is not universal. But the biological and social dependency of an infant on its mother is recognized in all social societies.[22]
Paul G. Hiebert, Cultural Anthropology
It appears that certain biological relationships (mother-child) have built-within them influences that exert power on behaviors, and while they may manifest differently in various cultures, they do not imply inferiority or lack of equality. These relationships, do, however, create forms of power management that can create a displacement of power. This is a vital element to evaluate Garland’s overarching premise that power exercised implies the inferiority of one influenced by another.
The Psychology of Parental Authority
Psychologists David G. Myers and C. Nathan DeWall describe that within parent-child relationships authority, or, power, is observable in three parenting styles: authoritarian, permissive, and authoritative.[23] The extent to which parents try to control their children is, “the most heavily researched aspect of parenting.” Parents either “set rules and expect obedience” (authoritarian) which tends to affect their children’s social skills and self-esteem. Or, they “give in to their children’s desires” (permissive) which tends to develop children who are agreeable and immature. And, parents who “are both demanding and responsive” (authoritative) tend to produce children who are well-rounded emotionally and socially.
A parent’s use, abuse, or nonuse of power can tend to have drastically different outcomes. The presumed element here in these relationships is that a parent is in a hierarchal relationship with their children (cf. Eph 6:1-4), and within this relationship, power is being managed and applied. Garland’s overarching point is that this is in principle antithetical to Jesus’ teaching on power, but power and role are inseparable.
Family Power Management
Olson and DeFrain explore the wide range of “family power” management which is of significance here. According to them, “family power is the ability of one family member to change the behavior of the other family members.”[24] And while Garland concedes that “power” and “influence” are morally neutral, she approaches the subject of gender roles, power, and marriage from a morally negative point of view. Yet, as Olson and DeFrain point out, power —particularly family power— is a complex, dynamic interactive feature of a family system. Everyone in a family has power and everyone exerts it on the other member of the family. Even infants, according to Garland, have power. Yet, Garland suggests that a male headship hierarchy historically has mitigated women’s power in the marriage relationship, and therefore, empowers men and silences women, encouraging male power and delegitimizing female power and influence. Garland is not wrong if painting with broad strokes.
Marital Hierarchy
Garland’s argument that the removal of the hierarchy in male-female roles in marriage and family, and therefore must be applied to the church, is problematic.
Garland attempts to dispel the notion that the biblical references to marriage and family headship do not teach an “inferiority of women” model. The creation account in Genesis 1–3 “provides,” according to Garland, “the primary foundation for a hierarchical understanding of husband-wife relationships.”[25] The order of creation does not prove male headship nor female submission; instead, Garland proposes that the pre-fall notation of “them” in Genesis 1:26–31 suggests shared dominion, shared identity, and a shared name. Moreover, the woman was not simply a “helpmeet” (KJV), but instead, is a soul-mate helper who is a “bone-and-flesh mirror image of the man who remains incomplete without her.”[26]
The Hebrew term ‘ezer certainly points to a “help” that comes from someone strong (Gen 2:20), as it is used in “warrior-esque” passages (Deut 33:29; Ezek 12:14), and is even used to describe God (Exod 18:4; Psa 121:1–2, 8). Thus, this is not a chain-of-command relationship where Eve is the weaker and more vulnerable of the two.
Garland provides a view of these passages that are cohesive and within reason of the evidence, but it is in Genesis 3:16, where the trouble lies. Garland argues that change after the fall is not a curse from God, but instead a pronouncement by God of how the relationship between Adam and Eve will now be.
In her view, God is being descriptive, not prescriptive. This is not an edict that imposes a new hierarchical relationship based on gender. Observe Garland’s argument that the fall
results in dire consequences for their relationship: the husband now shall rule over the wife. This new development implies that it was not what God had originally determined for their relationship. The dominance of the husband in Genesis 3:16 is described, not prescribed… it is the consequence of their joint disobedience.
Thus, the idea of hierarchical gender relationships is nothing but “a perversion of God’s intention in creation. The partnership has been destroyed. Sin disfigures the good God offered us.“[27] A variety of authors have offered a similar take in recent years. Linda L. Belleville, for example, is certainly at the forefront of pressing this interpretive option against the traditional view of male headship from Genesis 2–3.[28] Belleville, likewise affirms:
male rule finds no explicit place in the Bible’s theology at all. Adam’s sin is noted (Rom 5:12-19; 1 Cor 15:20-22), as is Eve’s deception (2 Cor 11:3; 1 Tim 2:14). But the man’s rule over the woman is not cited even once (not even for the husband-wife relationship). The simple fact is that male rule does not reappear in the OT. The woman is nowhere commanded to obey the man (not even her husband), and the man is nowhere commanded to rule the woman (not even his wife).[29]
Belleville likewise suggests that Genesis 3:16 is a statement of the natural outcomes of the husband-wife relationship to follow due to the “fallen condition” of the world.
Garland, Headship, and the Biblical Narrative
It is the view taken here, in response to Garland––and to some degree Belleville––that Genesis 1:1–2:3 and 2:4–25 do provide the foundation for the traditional view of gender roles and should be regarded as normative.[30] The account of day six in Genesis 1 is a broad-picture passage. It speaks to the equality shared between man and woman as a distinct created order, or class, that is made in the image of God, and for this reason, have a human responsibility together to “have dominion… Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it” (Gen 1:26–28). But, when day six is given an expanded view in 2:4–25, the foundation for how human power is to be managed is explained—it is to be done in a relationship with someone just like Adam.
This power and influence are managed between husband and wife (2:20–24). And while the family power style is not explained in Genesis 2, Genesis 3:16 becomes an informative model of the way the husband-wife relationship exists outside the garden due to sin as God punished Adam (3:17–19) and the serpent (3:14–15), so God punishes Eve (3:16).
Problems with the Descriptive View
The argument that God is only describing how things will be, clearly undermines several theological themes which begin at this point. These are not mere descriptions of the fallen world.
First, God declared the serpent’s dust-filled days but also that he will feel the consequence of a crushed head by “the woman’s” offspring. This is not descriptive, this is a proclamation of Divine action and judgment upon the serpent, and salvation for humanity (John 16:11).
Second, God declared that Adam would face further hardship in the production of food and nourishment. Adam already understood work. He knew how to til and maintain the vegetation of the garden since day six (2:15). Whatever is forthcoming outside the garden for him is new and punishment for his sin. They are consequential.
And finally, God addresses Eve’s actions with further pain associated with childbearing and nuance to the relationship between her and her husband. When God says, “I will surely” do this and that, it must be interpreted as a consequence. The most pertinent here is the following, “Your desire shall be contrary to your husband, but he shall rule over you” (Gen 3:16b).
The curse upon Eve is clearly speaking of a matter of power management within the husband-wife relationship. It is the same vocabulary and issue of power management in Genesis 4:7 with Cain and his personified anger who desired to control Cain. Cain must rule over its desire. Moreover, the language is found again in the Song of Solomon, where the bride turns this “curse” into a wedding vow, “I am my beloved’s, and his desire is for me” (Song 7:10). Contrary to Belleville’s claim that the “simple fact is that male rule does not reappear in the OT,” the Bible does recognize implicitly male headship.
Biblically Grounded Patriarchy is Never Condemned
Interestingly, Old Testament scholar Bruce K. Waltke points out that of all the social injustices mentioned by the prophets of Israel, patriarchy is never mentioned among them. Following Abraham Heschel, he argues:
They challenged the injustices of their culture. The prophet is an iconoclast, challenging the apparently holy, revered and awesome beliefs cherished as certainties, institutions endowed with supreme sanctity. They exposed the scandalous pretensions, they challenged kings, priests, institutions and even the temple.[31]
Waltke is probably correct when he argues that the problem that often affects interpretation is the definitions of concepts of patriarchy and equality brought to bear on the texts of Scripture. Eve was every bit Adam’s equal. They both shared the power and authority over the creation given to them by God. That power was to be worked out in their marriage in some form of family power style.
In Genesis and throughout the rest of the Bible, the family power structure to manage power is a hierarchy, with the husband as head of the wife and as Christ head of the church (Eph 5:23). Yet, such headship does not exist in a vacuum. A husband’s headship does not exist properly without being sacrificial, loving, or nourishing. Neither does it embrace a tyrannical hold on his wife. He is to be as self-sacrificing as Jesus was and is for the church. If the husband is head of the wife as Christ is head of the church —his bride— then one should be careful in calling headship structure “a perversion of God’s intention” and a “partnership” destroyed as Garland has. For this reason, her work and view would be detrimental to family ministry.
“Power and Roles” is chapter 11 in Diana R. Garland, Family Ministry: A Comprehensive Guide, 2d ed. (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2012), 370–411.
Garland, Family Ministry, 370. All proceeding quotations in this paragraph are from page 370.
Garland, Family Ministry, 372.
David H. Olson and John DeFrain, Marriages and Families: Intimacy, Diversity, and Strengths, 4th ed. (New York, NY: McGraw-Hill, 2003), 213. Power, control, and authority are continuously exercised in families, and struggles for personal power in families are exceedingly common.
Garland, Family Ministry, 372.
Garland, Family Ministry, 373.
Ibid.
Roy H. Lanier, Sr., “An Elder’s Wife has a Problem,” 20 Years of the Problem Page (Abilene, TX: Quality, 1984), 1:177–81.
Lanier, “An Elder’s Wife,” 178.
F. Dale Simpson, Leading the First-Century Church in the Space Age (Abilene, TX: Quality Printing, 1972), 121–22.
Earl D. Edwards, “The Role of Women in the Work and Worship of the Church,” Protecting Our Blind Side: A Discussion of Contemporary Concerns in churches of Christ (Henderson, TN: Hester Publications, 2007), 255–57.
Edwards, “Role of Women,” 156–57.
Garland, Family Ministry, 371–72.
Unless otherwise stated all Scripture quotations are taken from the English Standard Version of The Holy Bible (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2001).
Garland, Family Ministry, 371.
Garland, Family Ministry, 371.
Jovan Payes, “Leaders Stand Up for the Weak,” In My Place: The Servant Savior in Mark, ed. Douglas Y. Burleson (Delight, AR: Gospel Light, 2015), 376–77.
Payes, “Leaders Stand Up,” 376.
Garland, Family Ministry, 372–92.
Paul G. Hiebert, Cultural Anthropology, 2d ed. (1983; repr., Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books, 1999), 197.
David G. Myers and C. Nathan DeWall, Psychology in Everyday Life, 3rd ed. (New York, NY: Worth Publishers, 2014), 84.
Olson and DeFrain, Marriage and Families, 213.
Garland, Family Ministry, 374.
Garland, Family Ministry, 376.
Garland, Family Ministry, 376–77. Emphasis original.
See Linda L. Belleville, “Women in Ministry: An Egalitarian Perspective,” Two Views on Women in Ministry, rev. ed., ed. James R. Beck (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2005), 21–103.
Belleville, “Women in Ministry,” 31.
Bruce K. Waltke, “The Role of Women in the Bible,” Crux 31.3 (Sept 1995): 29–40; reprinted in Bruce K. Waltke, The Dance Between God and Humanity: Reading the Bible Today as the People of God (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2013), 457–75.
Waltke, “The Role of Women in the Bible,” 30.
Bibliography
Beck, James R. Editor. Two Views on Women in Ministry. Revised edition. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2005.
Edwards, Earl D. Protecting Our “Blind Side”: A Discussion of Contemporary Concerns in churches of Christ. Henderson, TN: Hester Publications, 2007.
Garland, Diana R. Family Ministry: A Comprehensive Guide. 2d edition. Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2012.
Hiebert, Paul G. Cultural Anthropology. 2d edition. 1983. Repr., Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books, 1999.
Lanier, Roy H., Sr. 20 Years of the Problem Page. 2 volumes. Abilene, TX: Quality Publications, 1984.
Myers, David G., and C. Nathan DeWall. Psychology in Everyday Life. 3rd edition. New York, NY: Worth Publishers, 2014.
Olson, David H., and John DeFrain. Marriages and Families: Intimacy, Diversity, and Strengths. 4th edition. Boston, MA: McGraw-Hill, 2003.
Payes, Jovan. “Leaders Stand Up for the Weak.” Pages 375–81 in In My Place: The Servant Savior in Mark. Edited by Douglas Y. Burleson. Delight, AR: Gospel Light, 2015.
Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John are four stories about Jesus that offer four broad perspectives from which they tell specific stories with a “powerful realism” about his ministry, teaching, healings, rejection, crucifixion, and resurrection.[1] This much is very clear. Questions emerge about the genre, historicity, chronology, stages of oral transmission, and history of literary dependence (e.g., “did Matthew and Luke rely on Mark?”), but at the heart of what the gospels are is Jesus and the stories told about him.
I have been reading and studying the four gospels for about a quarter-century, first, as a young Christian, then in my on and off again academic pursuits, and as a local preacher. During this time I’ve arrived at some important conclusions about them:
The genre of “gospel” is historical narratives comparable to the Greco-Roman bios.
The gospels are a blend of theology and history.
This blend of theology and history does not undermine their historical reliability.
The gospels provide a holistic view of Jesus, we cannot pick and chose what is the “authentic” Jesus.
But there was a time I was unaware of Rudolf Bultmann’s (1884–1976) demythologizing existential approach to redefining the meaning of the supernatural elements from the Gospels, and other approaches birthed by liberalism and modernism to reading them. It was a time when I was oblivious of the historical/grammatical-critical approach to studying them with the tools of form criticism, oral-tradition criticism, literary criticism, and so on. I’ve benefited deeply from the types of questions they raise and the kinds of answers they seek to provide.
This essay is not about this process, however. Instead, I am sharing what I can recall from my experience of reading the Gospels as “a knucklehead from the streets” searching for God. I want to share this personal journey while I can still remember how reading the gospel lead me to find God in Jesus Christ and how Jesus’ life and teachings made me want to follow him.
My Background
Here are my “credentials” for the spring of 1996 when I was seventeen: A high school dropout, a three-year freshman, most days starting with cutting school, drinking, smoking weed, and roaming the parks or streets (in that order). In the columns for attendance and absences on my report cards, my poor mom thought they made an error because the numbers looked swapped.
Then there was my street life in a gang. Street fights and violence, jumping over backyard fences running from the police (and dogs), plotting to hurt “heads” from other gangs, all-nighters, drug use, sex, and on and on it went. I am not proud of it, but I ran with my homies and we were “tighter than a glove,” I had my “street-cred,” I earned my stripes, and many can vouch for that.[2] They called me, “Gorilla.”
I grew up in Roman Catholicism. I was christened as a baby at St. Charles on South Van Ness in the Mission District of San Francisco, CA. Although my family is from the Mission, my Abuela brokered a deal so I could attend an Irish Catholic parochial K-8 school in Noe Valley. I wish I could tell you anything I learned in religion class to help me read scripture but I can’t. I can say, the rituals really stuck. I was an altar boy. I know the “Our Father,” the “doxology,” the two “Hail Marys,” parts of the Catholic Apostle’s Creed, and I can genuflect with the best of them. I did my confirmation. I prayed my penance prayers after confession.
I do not however recall ever being taught how to read Scripture, that was the priest’s job. So when I started reading the Bible years after leaving the Roman Catholic Church following 8th grade and diving right into drug use that summer with acid, I had no strategies to work with except my basic education and common sense. I was seventeen years old, getting sober, and walking away from vice and violence. I cried out to God in prayer on the corner of 24th and Mission Streets: “I don’t know how to do this, but I’m going to look for you…. Can you meet me halfway?”
Things did not immediately change for me outside of me stepping away from the streets until one night I went out with my boys. While I was scrambling to get my outfit right, I looked under my bed to find my shoes: Air Griffey Max 1. Behind my shoes, under my bed, was a small Gideon New Testament I had no idea was sitting there amidst the dust and trash. I took the discovery as God prodding me, in effect saying, “I just did my part, now you do your part and start reading it.” I grabbed it. Looked at it with a smirk. Looked upwards and said, “Okay, God, I’ll start reading it.”
I started reading the Gospels and after a few months of reading the stories about Jesus, in December 1996, just after Christmas, I gave my life to Jesus and submitted to baptism in an outdoor hot tub (to learn more read: “Leaving a Street Gang for Jesus“). Up to this point, I had not entered a church, I had not participated in any evangelistic study material outside of some creepy Jack T. Chick (1924–2016) “Gospel” Tracts. I simply read the Gospels and they were sufficient to guide me to obey God.
So here are some things I recall from this several-month journey as a street gang knucklehead,[3] with an eighth-grade education, working through a period of “getting clean.”
Reading the Gospels at Face Value
Let me be clear, I have always been a believer even when I left God and did my thing. If I ever was going to return to religion it was either going to be Christianity (starting point) or Islam (due to some of my closest Egyptian, Palestinian, and Persian friendships at the time). If God exists, then the miraculous is possible. When I read Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, then, I believed the miracles contained in them were possible. I read them at face value.
Today, naturalism may be how many more approach a book like the Bible. For them, the door is closed to anything miraculous in the literal sense (i.e., the blind will never see, the cripple will never walk, demons are not exorcized, water is not turned to wine, the resurrection of a corpse does not happen). I did not approach the Gospels with this assumption. How could I, I called on God to find me!
Today, I recognize such an approach may be called a supernatural naivete (superstitious), but after studying worldview, the logical consequences of naturalism/materialism on ethics and morality, and dealing with the dismal outlook of living in an indifferent universe, keeping the door open to the possibility of the miraculous continues to make the most sense of the evidence in this world.[4]
Today, having worked through issues surrounding the critical study of the Scriptures, along with its anti-supernatural biases, its “mythology” and de-historicizing its narratives, it is clear that such a folklore Jesus would be a dead end. If the Jesus of the gospels does not exist then there are plenty of other historical fictional, or sci-fi, figures of virtue on their own “hero’s journey” I can enjoy instead. A fictional gospel reveals a powerless Jesus.
I believed God was working through Jesus in reality, and it led me to believe that his power could be applied to my own life in some healing way.
Jesus was Compassionate and Morally Firm
I had never read the gospels. I grew up on liturgy and tradition. Liturgy and tradition can be helpful as a tool for theological reinforcement, but it has significant limitations. For the most part, I just “knew”–as best I could know–Jesus loved me and died for me. But why, and why the cross? And is this what Christianity is all about, the story of an executed man? What about this has to do with me? And what would I learn about Jesus?
Again, I was, in the words of Ben Witherington, III, living a “Jesus haunted and biblically illiterate” life.[5] At the time, Jesus was the guy that died for me. I grew up reciting the “Stations of the Cross” every year in Mass. These 14 liturgical meditations commemorate the condemnation, death, and burial of Jesus (though I distinctly remember meditations of his resurrection).
So, I opened up that little New Testament with the small print to see where it would lead me.
I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was however truly surprised by the Jesus I was reading about. He drew me in. I was slightly expecting Jesus to be like the street preachers on my block. Those “bullhorn guys” yelling at the top of their lungs, telling us all that we are sinners, that we are all under the judgment of God, that regardless if you were eating donuts, McDonald’s, a burrito, going to the market, or selling weed, it didn’t matter because God hated us until we repented.
That is not at all what I found!
The Jesus of the gospels did not shy away from pointing to sin in people’s lives, but when he did so you knew he cared about you, you knew he had spent days with the sick to heal them, with the crippled making them walk, with the demon-oppressed liberating them of these evil spirits. He spent time with the kind of people the “really religious” types pushed aside, like the prostitutes and tax-collectors who wanted God.
In one instance, a woman from the city, known as a “sinner” (she likely had a bad reputation as a violator of the law of Moses), came to Jesus to show gratitude because he had forgiven her of her sins (Luke 7:47–48). The Pharisee who hosted Jesus in his home for dinner when this happened, reacted: “If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what sort of woman this is who is touching him, for she is a sinner” (Luke 7:39). She was undesirable, not to be engaged. Jesus however acknowledged her morally troubled past, accepted her, and forgave her of her sins.
Like a protector walking among his people, Jesus offered those that would listen to him a better way of life.
Again, Jesus healed a man who could not walk and had been that way for thirty-eight years (John 5:1–9). Later He ran into him when the man was under scrutiny by some Jews because it happened on the Sabbath. “Afterward Jesus found him in the temple and said to him, ‘See, you are well! Sin no more, that nothing worse may happen to you’ ” (John 5:14 ESV). Jesus heals the man, helps the man, forgives the man (implied), but is morally firm: sin no more.
I really needed and wanted a guide out of all the darkness and evil I was in. I knew I had dug a deeply immoral hole. I said to myself, “Jesus has gotta know my situation… and he knows what it’s going to take to get out of it.”
Meeting Jesus in the Gospels was a real turning point for me. I was moved. Reading that Jesus was the type of person that got to know you, your life, your darkness, and was not afraid to touch it as he embraced you, and then led you out of the sin in your life so you can live a liberated life before God. He was compassionate and morally firm.
Jesus’ Inspiring Inner Strength
The 1990s rap scene was flooded with “gangsta rap.” It was not the only form of rap, but like the “consciousness” of hip hop, this movement provided a peek into the mind and mental of street life. It spoke to what many of us were living through to different degrees. In 1995, the Westcoast hip-hop artist Coolio released the massively successful commercial single, “Gangsta’s Paradise” the theme song for the film, Dangerous Minds (Buena Vista Pictures). I recall me and my homies could not get enough of it. In fact, I called the hip hop station 106.1 KMEL on the request line just to hear it again. It was “the jam.”
It was more than just music, it was a mirror of our experiences. I say that because Coolio says what we all understood about respect in the street. Respect and honor were set on a hairpin trigger. When Coolio dropped this line, it was “gospel”:
But I ain’t never crossed a man that didn’t deserve it Me be treated like a punk, you know that’s unheard of You better watch how you talkin’ and where you walkin’ Or you and your homies might be lined in chalk
Coolio, “Gangsta’s Paradise”
This was not mere poetry this was street truth. Outside of joking around, you don’t cross your boys or disrespect people. Did it happen? Sure, but there were consequences.
So when I read the gospels, I brought this attitude with me. Call it machismo, call it pride, call it hubris. Somebody hurts your kin, the next time you see that person you confront them, punk them (embarrass them), and flex your muscle.
I was impressed with Jesus. When he interacted with the religious leaders of his day–the Pharisees, scribes, and Sadducees–who constantly poked at his school, his teaching, his methods, and his compassion, I stood amazed at how he handled these tests with an inner strength of truth and grace.
I definitely rallied behind him when Jesus flipped over the moneychangers’ tables at the temple, they had turned the place into a “den of robbers.” That language made sense to me. But Jesus was mild compared to what power he clearly had.
And he entered the temple and began to drive out those who sold access to God, saying to them, “It is written, ‘My house shall be a house of prayer,’ but you have made it a den of robbers.” (Luke 19:45–46)
He made a statement. He didn’t end them. That’s the difference.
But for every other challenge, every criticism, every rejection, every attempt on his life, every time Jesus was made out to be crazy, a fraud, a violator of the Scripture, or liable as an ally of Satan, Jesus responded with words to clarify, words to unite, words bluntly stating the obvious, and words that demonstrate the faulty logic, scriptural inconsistency, or the like.
Basically, Jesus was full of zeal but kept his cool nonetheless (John 2:17).
Consider the fact that the gospels report that Jesus could walk on water, make water into wine, give people their sight back, restore the skin of leprosy, and revive the dead.
A man with that kind of power could be tempted to abuse it, but as the temptation in the desert points out, Jesus’ power did not outpace his character (Matt 4:1–11; Mark 1:12–13; Luke 4:1–12). When Jesus was rejected by the Samaritans, he rebuked his disciples for suggesting he retaliate with fire from the sky.
And when his disciples James and John saw it, they said, “Lord, do you want us to tell fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” But he turned and rebuked them. And they went on to another village. (Luke 9:54–56)
Jesus showed strength in order to protect people, in order to speak truth to error, and authenticity to hypocrisy. I was captivated by his ability to hold it together when he was betrayed by Judas, when he was lied about in his Jewish “trial” before Caiaphas, when he was publically humiliated by the Romans, publically rejected by the Jewish mob with their frenzied chant, “crucify him, crucify him.” Jesus clearly stated he had the power and authority to be delivered by an overwhelming show of heavenly force (John 18:1–19:16a), but he did not.
I stood in awe at Jesus’ character. Jesus was dismissed by those who knew the Scriptures until the only way they thought they could silence him was to kill him. Here’s the part that really put this strength in context: Jesus predicted his betrayal, his rejection, and his death. John foreshadowed this in his prologue: “He [Jesus] came to his own, and his own people did not receive him” (1:12). He walked right into the fire.
I never heard of anyone who lived like that. Jesus was street-level “hard” (tough) in a way I had never seen. Jesus’ inner strength told me I could trust him. That’s the point.
In describing Abraham Lincoln, Robert G. Ingersol (1833–1899), was recorded in Wisconsin State Journal (16 January 1883) saying,
If you want to find out what a man is to the bottom, give him power. Any man can stand adversity — only a great man can stand prosperity. It is the glory of Abraham Lincoln that he never abused power only on the side of mercy. [Applause]. He was a perfectly honest man. When he had power, he used it in mercy.[6]
Robert Ingersol, Wisconsin State Journal (1883)
Whether that was always true of Abraham Lincoln, I’ll never know. But I trusted what I saw in Jesus’ use of power and in the realism of the stories of the gospels. I needed to trust him. I grew to trust him. I trust him still. And in the quarter-century of serving him, he has done no wrong.
Spending Time with Nobodies
In the 1991 urban drama, Boyz n the Hood (Columbia Pictures), director and writer John Singleton (1968–2019) presented a raw depiction of urban violence, racism, and gang culture as the backdrop for the coming of age stories of a group of childhood friends, notably two brothers (“Doughboy” and Ricky) and their close friend Tre. The impact of drugs and violence on the black community of South Central Los Angeles is seen as we follow these friends who grow up fast to survive–only to become victims of their own turbulent world.
After a confrontation between Ricky–a high school football star on track to receive a college scholarship– and a local gangster, the matter escalates into Ricky being gunned down in an alley while coming home from the liquor store. Doughboy and his own crew retaliate that night by killing the gunmen and his posse for killing his brother. In the next scene, the next morning, Doughboy comes out of his home, sells some crack as he crosses the street, and sits with his friend Tre.
In one of the most memorable moments in the film Doughboy says:
Turned on the TV this morning. Had this s— on about how we’re living in a violent world. Showed all these foreign places. How foreigners live and all. I started thinking, man. Either they don’t know… don’t show… or don’t care about what’s going on in the ‘hood. They had all this foreign s—. They didn’t have s— on my brother, man.
“Doughboy” in Boyz n the Hood
Although I was twelve when the movie came out, the movie has the proven realism of its era. What Singleton is voicing through Doughboy is that even though there is violence in the street of our communities, nobody cares about it. It is happening over there, not in our backyard. We put a spotlight on global violence but not in our own communities. We know it happens and the police are doing “something” about it. But it is not worth talking about or getting involved with.
Here’s my point: street life is a very different world. No matter what your starting point is, once you commit to it you live a life on the fringe. The police are not your friends. You can easily lose trust with your own people. You’re the boogeyman parents warn their kids about, “come home soon so nothing happens to you.” You are the reason they need to be careful.
For example, one day I was detained with a group of “us” by the San Francisco Police Department on 24th Street. Officer Callejas who put the twist on me was the father of a childhood friend. A bunch of us were thrown into a “patty wagon,” taken to the Mission station on Valencia Street. You really get a sense of how you are thought of in situations like this. Any mistreatment was seemingly justifiable because we were thugs who likely assaulted a little boy for his shoes. No one really cares when you are a thug. I get why, but it is still the truth.[7] We were probably guilty of something and the pain was just part of the business of the street: we felt like nobodies cause we were treated like nobodies.
Liberal New Testament scholar John Dominic Crossan (1934–) once described the “kingdom of God” Jesus focuses on as “a kingdom of nuisances and nobodies.”[8] That description really gets the point across. Crossan points to the fact Jesus spends a lot of time with the kinds of people the “clean” religious people would not associate with. The tax-collectors, the prostitutes, the sinners, the Gentile-tainted, the Samaritan, the lepers, the poor, etc., are all the kinds of people Jesus spend time with at the expense of criticism. This really spoke to me.
German theologian, Helmut Thielicke (1908–1986), really puts into words what I saw in Jesus:
[A]n ineffable love radiated from him, a love that quite obviously attracted from their usual haunts the very people whom nobody else cared for: people with loathsome, repulsive diseases, sinners who cowered before the contempt of society, the dejected and dismayed who normally concealed their misery from the eyes of others.[9]
Helmut Thielicke, The Waiting Father (1959)
Reading how Jesus ate with sinners just made me think that there was hope that he would share a seat with me at the dinner table. That he would come to my house and eat with me and my friends. Jesus put to those that criticized him for eating with sinners. He said,
Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick.I have not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance. (Luke 5:31–32)
Would Jesus visit with me so he could heal me? I believed he would. He did. He continues to do so.
I am always amazed at the power of grace that allows us to be “other than we are.” God’s grace and forgiveness have empowered me to live a different life. No story Jesus told tells it better than the parable of the two sons:
“What do you think? A man had two sons. And he went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work in the vineyard today.’ And he answered, ‘I will not,’ but afterward he changed his mind and went. And he went to the other son and said the same. And he answered, ‘I go, sir,’ but did not go. Which of the two did the will of his father?” They said, “The first.” Jesus said to them, “Truly, I say to you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes go into the kingdom of God before you. For John came to you in the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes believed him. And even when you saw it, you did not afterward change your minds and believe him. (Matt 21:28–32)
Fringe people have an opportunity to be at the heart of what Jesus does. I wanted that.
Jesus Taught about Loving People
Sometimes I would leave the Mission and go with some of my fellas to the Tenderloin District of San Francisco at night. We had a friend with a car and we had a friend with a shop out there. The “TL” is a neighborhood district right in the heart of downtown. It’s the part of the city no one wants to get lost in, but so many people do. Legend has it that the name goes back to the largest bribes and police corruption, big cuts. In reality, it’s the home of “outcasts and outlaws, but it has also served as a welcoming home to the downtrodden and out of luck.”[10] It has been that way for a long time.
You always had to be on your guard in the streets but it felt that way even more so in the TL. I got into plenty of fights over misunderstandings. Sometimes you had to “knuckle up” to prove your point. Every now and then, something would happen that would disarm you. One time a parade of prostitutes hurried single-file by me into the back of the pizzeria I was eating at because the police were cracking down outside. That stuff makes you want to lose your appetite. Sadly, I eventually saw a few girls I went to high school with, out there in the TL “walking” the streets.
One situation really struck me. One night I watched a young girl call home to tell her folks that she was not coming back. A pimp had flipped her, she was gonna become of his girls. I can see her standing in a MUNI bust stop phone booth, surrounded by a bunch of guys as she said the following words:
Momma, don’t worry, I’m fine and I’m gonna make a lot of money…. No, tell dad I’m gonna be fine… he’s gonna take care of me, I’m going to be just fine… No, I’m not telling you where I am… he’s gonna take care of me…
Jane Doe calling home
“No, girl,” I said to myself, “No, he’s not.” You learn to get cold to things like this. I didn’t want to get played but if someone else did, that was on them. This moment, though, would eventually make me really question what it is I was becoming. One thing was certain, I was losing my humanity piece by piece I just did not know it yet.
So when I asked God to find me, and I started reading the Gospels, I learned that Jesus was all about loving his neighbor. What surprised me the most, and continues to be the challenge, is how Jesus applies the “love your neighbor” ethic. In the Sermon on the Mount Jesus said:
“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect." (Matt 5:43–48)
When Jesus applies Leviticus 19:18 (“you shall love your neighbor as yourself”) to life, he said my neighbor was not just people I know but even people I hate, and people that hate me. That was a bitter pill to swallow. Looking back, even now, I have learned that this love even protects the vulnerable people in society (the poor, the blind, the deaf; cf. Lev 19:13–14). In a world where hate and anger were the fuel that drove my choices, I thought about how different my choices were going to have to be. I realized that I could not follow Jesus and stay in the gang, that I could not be in a “me vs. them” world. Most of the time I did not even know who the people I hated were.
I was starting to see that the world could be different. That I could be different. God was good to me despite all the things I had done. He gave me the sun, the rain, the wind and rain, different escapes from certain death, and my close trusted cholos over Frisco. I did not know it then, but I had just opened my heart to a very different way of living. Of all the things that changed my life nothing so drastically changed it as learning to love my enemies, people who hurt me, people I had come to hate, and learning to have grief and shame for the joy I got out of hurting people.
Here’s another significant point, Jesus was not teaching some kind of fluffy love. It is a rugged love. It is a love that is independent of what others do. We wait for people to love us and never hurt us, in order for us to love them back. That’s not the kind of love Jesus talks about. We treat people with love even when it might cause hatred, persecution, or attempts on your life. Jesus went through all of that when he lived out God’s love by dying on the cross for all humanity.
That type of love motivated me to learn to forgive those who hurt me, molested me, abandoned me, fought me, or betrayed me; positively, I learned to feed hungry people, give money to needy people, to care for those that struggle, treat people with kindness and patience. Most importantly, I learned to forgive and love myself. Remember, Jesus said the second great commandment is to “love your neighbor as yourself” (Matt 22:39)–as yourself, as myself. It was a new day in my life when I received Jesus’ words to love my neighbor.
Jesus inspired me to look at loving others in such a way that challenged what it means to love, who are the others and even to love myself.
Ready for the Next Step
Reading the Gospels lead me to take the next step to follow Jesus. While I no longer remember how each Gospel spoke to me, I remember the example of Jesus already making a big impression on me. I also began to see how it affected other people when I quoted Jesus or imitated Jesus, often without even telling them I was. A homeless lady on the BART even asked me, “are you a Christian?”[11] I didn’t even know what that meant. She had to tell me: someone who follows Jesus. I was that “unchurched.”
Still, I was still wrestling with drinking, smoking cigarettes and weed, and I was building my fortitude against sleeping with anyone. Over the months of reading the Gospels, I desired but I didn’t exactly know what the next step was. After all, I had not entered a church during this time. There was no preacher or evangelistic crusade that was guiding my journey. It was quite literally, me and the Gospels, and me and my demons.
I remember talking to Mormon missionaries at this time and they said, “Cry out to God for an audible answer that the Book of Mormon was true, and you will hear him.” I spent many nights crying out to God in tears, scared that I was so close but so far. Never heard a voice. I remember receiving a bunch of creepy Chick tracts that told me to give my heart to the Lordship of Jesus or I would be roasted by Satan in Hell. I wandered into books and advice from outsiders.
My big brother, however, brought me back to the Gospels. “Have you read the Gospels?,” he asked. “Yes,” I responded. “What does Jesus tell his disciples when he sends them out at the end of Matthew?” I opened the text and it was right there:
Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. And when they saw him they worshiped him, but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28: 16–20)
That told me everything I needed to know and do next. I knew I wanted to be a disciple, this text told me how. I knew I wanted to submit to the Lordship of Jesus, this text told me how. I knew I wanted to keep having a relationship with Jesus even though he was not “here” anymore, this text showed me he was still with us. And I wanted to still study under Jesus, and he showed me that it was in the teaching of the disciples. So, I knew I would have to change my life and I made that commitment in a personal hot tub a few days after Christmas in December 1996. The “Gorilla” was “gone” and Jovan was reborn.
Endnotes
See Leland Ryken, How to Read the Bible as Literature (Grand Rapids, MI: Academic Books, 1984), 132. I highly recommend Craig Blomberg, The Historical Reliability of the Gospels, 2nd ed. (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 2007).
As you may see in this essay, rap lyrics speak for me at times and so it is here. In Eazy-E’s comeback response album, It’s On (Dr. Dre) 187um Killa (Woodland Hills, CA: Ruthless, 1993), to Dr. Dre’s The Chronic album (Beverly Hills, CA: Death Row Records, 1991), the song “Real Muthaphukkin G’s” features Dresta who says, “I did dirt, put in work, and many n—- can vouch that; So since I got stripes, I got the right to rap about [gangsta life].” I wasn’t the worst thug out there, and I can only speak for myself, but I did my thing.
I use the “knucklehead” phrase because that’s what Mr. Cee from the RBL Posse said in his rap rhyme: “I’m just a knucklehead from the streets, All I want is a mic and some of that funky a– beat” (“A Part of Survival,” A Lesson to be Learned [Oakland, CA: In a Minute Records, 1992]).
One should read the opening chapter of William Lane Craig’s The Son Rises: The Historical Evidence for the Resurrection of Jesus (1981; repr., Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, 2000). Consistently, atheist Richard Dawkins wrote, “…if the universe were just electrons and selfish genes, meaningless tragedies like the crashing of this bus are exactly what we should expect, along with equally meaningless good fortune. Such a universe would be neither evil nor good in intention. It would manifest no intentions of any kind. In a universe of blind physical forces and genetic replication, some people are going to get hurt, other people are going to get lucky, and you won’t find any rhyme or reason in it, nor any justice. The universe we observe has precisely the properties we should expect if there is, at bottom, no design, no purpose, no evil and no good, nothing but blind, pitiless indifference… DNA neither knows nor cares. DNA just is. And we dance to its music” (River Out of Eden: A Darwinian View of Life [New York: Basic Books, 1995], 132–33; bold added).
The actual quote is, “In America we live in a Jesus-haunted culture that is biblically illiterate. Jesus is a household name, and yet only a distinct minority of Americans have studied an English translation of the original documents that tell us about Jesus, much less read them in the original Greek. In this sort of environment, almost any wild theory about Jesus or his earliest followers can pass for knowledge with some audiences, because so few people actually know the primary sources, the relevant texts, or the historical context with which we should be concerned” (What Have They Done With Jesus? Beyond Strange Theories and Bad History–Why We Can Trust the Bible [New York: HarperSanFrancisco, 2006]).
I can only think of one organization that was brash enough to try to disrupt our comfort with street life, and that was RAP. Unfortunately, there were not a lot of encounters.
John Dominic Crossan, Jesus: A Revolutionary Biography (New York: HarperCollins, 1994), 61–84. While I am critical of many of Crossan’s proposals about the historical Jesus and his trance and mythic theory of the resurrection appearances of Jesus, he rings true here. See my, “Did Paul Hallucinate the Resurrection?“
Helmut Thielicke, The Waiting Father: Sermons on the Parables of Jesus, trans. John W. Doberstein (New York: Harper, 1959), 159.
BART stands for the Bay Area Rapid Transit system. It was a subway/train system that connects various cities in the San Francisco/Oakland/East Bay/North Bay areas.
A few years ago the Barna Group published the results of 2014 survey of “2005 web-based and phone surveys conducted among a representative sample of adults over the age of 18 in each of the 50 United States.”[1] The results showed that while a strong 93% believed Jesus was a historical figure, they held various views of his nature:
43% believed he was “God living among us”
31% believed he was “uniquely called to reveal God’s purpose in the world”
9% he “embodied the best that is possible in each person”
8% he was “a great man and a great teacher, but not divine”
These are the signs of the time. Across generational lines people accept the historicity of Jesus rather than believe he never existed (See my research paper: “Regarding the Divide between the Christ of Faith and the Jesus of History“). The perception that Jesus is God, however, is questioned more by Millennials than their predecessors.
We have to come to grips with the reality that even some “Christians” believe Jesus as only a great teacher, one that should stand at the top of the world’s “Top 10” of most influential religious leaders in human existence. They praise his ethical and moral teachings (e.g. the golden rule) recorded in the Gospels. The New Testament, however, adds a unique dimension to his nature that make it impossible to accept his teachings while at the same time ignore the deity of Jesus Christ affirmed in its pages.
I will look at one historic figure who felt he could separate the ethical teacher, Jesus, from an enfabled supernatural Christ, and then demonstrate that Jesus’ teaching ministry was tightly interwoven with the miraculous.
The Case of Thomas Jefferson
Thomas Jefferson (1743–1826), a “Founding Father” of the United States of America, is an interesting case study. He profoundly shaped the United States as drafter of the Declaration of Independence (1776) and the third President of the United States (1801–1809). And while he was a self-proclaimed “Christian” and even promoted Bible literacy, Jefferson regarded all the miraculous elements in the Gospels as supernatural “rubbish” which must be removed from Jesus’ teaching, as one does “a diamond from the dung heap.”[2]
Jefferson was a theist and often used the language of Natural Theology/Philosophy (i.e., evidence in nature of a Creator-God) when speaking of his belief in God. For example, in the preamble of the Declaration of Independence Jefferson appeals to “Nature’s God,” other times, “Infinite Power, which rules the destinies of the universe,” “overruling providence,” and a “benevolent governor.”
Jefferson did believe that God actively engaged in time, sustaining creation on an ongoing basis; yet, in his rejection of Biblical miracles and belief that natural laws were the language of God, he certainly is deistic.[3]
“Thomas Jefferson Encyclopedia: Jefferson’s Religious Beliefs,” Monticello.org
As a product of these tensions, Jefferson was a hybrid rationalistic-deist with a Jesus twist. There is God (without miracles), there is providence (without intervention), and there is the mind God gave humanity to bring about good into the world.
To Jefferson, then, one of the greatest harms that ever happened to Jesus was the corruption of his teaching with the additions of “fabrications… of their own [i.e., disciples’] inventions [of miracles].”[4] This conviction led Jefferson to “edit” the Gospels by cutting out–literally–the teachings, sayings, and discourses of Jesus and then pasting them into his “wee little book.”[5] This project finalized in The Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth (1820), today known as, The Jefferson Bible.
Jefferson affirmed that his work was “proof,” as he wrote to Charles Thomson, “that I am a real Christian… a disciple of the doctrines of Jesus.”[6] However,
In neither the eighteenth century nor today would most people consider a person with [his] views a “Christian.”[7]
“Jefferson’s Religious Beliefs,” Monticello.org
Certainly not an orthodox Christian. The problem with Jefferson’s estimation of Jesus as a moral reformer is its inconsistent denial of all the accompanying miraculous elements the Gospels often safeguard interwoven with his mission, nature, and instruction. As I shall illustrate below.
The Authority of the Son of Man
The Gospels reveal that the teaching ministry of Jesus cannot be divorced from their miraculous components without doing damage to our understanding of the nature and mission of Jesus.
The story of the healed paralytic is one of the most touching miracle stories in the Gospels. This miracle in Galilee event is recorded in Matthew (9:1–8), Mark (2:1-12), and Luke (Luke 5:17–26). Jesus had returned to his home in Capernaum, Galilee (Matt 4:13, 9:1; Mark 2:1) where crowds found him once again and flooded the domicile as he was preaching (Mark 2:2). As there was no room, the friends of a certain paralyzed man creatively removed the tiles of the roof so they could drop the man down for healing (Matt 9:2; Mark 2:3–4; Luke 5:18–19). What happened next was a game changer: Jesus doesn’t heal the man, he forgives him (Matt 9:2; Mark 2:5; Luke 5:20).
This episode instructs on the authority and divinity of Jesus. The narrative provides an unexpected conclusion in the first act (forgiveness): forgiveness of the invisible ailments of paralyzed man; after all, they came for healing. This declaration, however, raised the ire of the “scribes and the Pharisees” who were offended at the very idea. This was a blasphemous scandal:
“Who is this who speaks blasphemies? Who can forgive sins but God alone?” (Luke 5:21 ESV; Mark 2:6–7; Matt 9:3)
Jesus had committed a spiritual offense of highest magnitude in the eyes of the “scribes and Pharisees.” By declaring forgiveness he claimed a Divine prerogative to forgive sins (Exod 10:17, 32:31-33, Jer 31:34). Remember, for the scribes and the Pharisees Jesus was just a freelancing rabbi, nothing more than a Jewish man.
In the second act (miracle), Jesus called out their inner monologue regarding his sacrilege (Matt 9:4; Mark 2:8; Luke 5:22), and then raised the stakes. Jesus has entered into the spiritual “kill box” of Jewish orthodoxy: a human cannot forgive sins, only God does that; a human cannot claim deity or Divine prerogative, to make the claim is to blaspheme. Jesus then utters an “either…or” challenge like the prophet Elijah against the prophets of Baal (1 Kings 18:20–40).
“Which is easier, to say, ‘Your sins are forgiven you,’ or to say, ‘Rise and walk’?” (Luke 5:23)
The rhetorical question answers itself. If he can do the “harder” thing that requires an empirical/visible demonstration (“rise and walk”), then he can do the “invisible thing” which is to forgive sins. The entire ethical validity of Jesus’ teaching depends on this challenge. In a public demonstration Jesus tells the paralyzed man:
“I say to you, rise, pick up your bed and go home.” (Luke 5:24)
The miracle was immediate (Luke 5:25), the crowd was amazed (Luke 5:26), and the scribes and the Pharisees received an answer they would never forget – Jesus of Nazareth possesses both the ability and right to forgive sins!
Therefore, in this instance, Jesus exercises his privileges showcasing his God-nature. In the third act (reaction), the people respond with:
“We have seen extraordinary things today.” (Luke 5:26; Mark 2:10; Matt 9:8)
This miracle shows just how impossible it is to sever the miraculous from Jesus’ teaching ministry. Jesus taught and preached on moral excellence, this much is true, but he acted clearly as one who is more than human. As John says it, Jesus is “the word became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1:14). The New Testament documents, if they are going to be read properly, must be read on their terms not what we think has happened to the text.
Lunatic, Liar, Lord… Legend?
We conclude this piece with a challenge from C. S. Lewis (1898–1963) in his work, Mere Christianity. Lewis goes into considerable length in calling attention to a problem of viewing Jesus as “a great moral teacher” and rejecting “His claim to be God.” As Lewis sees it:
A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said [in his teaching and about himself] would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic – on a level with the man who says he is a poached egg – or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God: or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronising [sic] nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that [option] open to us. He did not intend to.[8]
C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity (Macmillan)
Lewis offers three basic options when it comes to Jesus: He is either (1) a lunatic, (2) a liar, or (3) the very Lord and God revealed in the documents of the New Testament. In Jesus’ words, he affirms his own claim: “unless you believe that I am he you will die in your sins” (John 8:24).
Jefferson, and many who follow in his footsteps, however, would suggest at least a fourth option about the Jesus of the New Testament: (4) legend. If the disciples embellished his divine nature, then, why not embellish his teaching ministry, his compassion, or for that matter his ethics? I wish to press this clearly, one must receive Jesus en toto–that is, completely (miracles and all)–for to accept him partially (only a moral teacher) is to have no Jesus at all.
The strong reliability of the transmission of the New Testament demonstrates that the miraculous elements of the Gospels are original to their presentation of Jesus, which strengthens the internal eyewitness testimony of the New Testament’s message about the Deity of Jesus. Furthermore, the small interval between the events of Jesus life to written accounts is too brief for legend to so transform the “truth” of the historical Jesus. The legend claim is simply not enough.[9]
A Concluding Plea
The biblical accounts leave the issue clear that Jesus pre-existed before coming to minister on this soil. From the outside, he looked and lived as a human; but, inwardly and also through demonstrations showed himself to be the Divine Word (John 1:1–3).
So what will you do with Jesus? How will you view his teaching? His claims to Divinity? His claim to be your Redeemer? You will make a decision either way and that decision will ripple its effects in the deepest crevices of your life. Give Him one real, genuine inquiry. He will not disappoint you.
As for me, I will serve Jesus, “My Lord and my God” (John 20:28). May the Lord bless you in your quest to learn about Jesus and his message, and the salvation that he alone can offer.
“Thomas Jefferson to Charles Thomson, 9 January 1816.”
“Jefferson’s Religious Beliefs.”
C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity (repr., New York: Macmillan, 2001), 53.
To read a succinct argument in support of these statements, read John Warwick Montgomery, History, Law, and Christianity (1964; repr., Irvine, CA: NRP Books, 2014), 3–44.
Reprinted with permission from the June 2018 issue of Gospel AdvocateMagazine. Slightly revised edition.
I am not a fan of church politics, but I know they exist. Sometimes it reminds me of walking through the streets when I was a kid. You always had to have enough “friends” with you; you had to make sure you were stronger than the “other guy” and never get caught walking alone, especially in an alleyway. It saddens me to admit that “brotherhood alleyways” do exist. It appears in the form of the public shaming of preachers or schools; it appears in certain back channels where preachers or churches are undermined every step of the way due to a difference of opinions. In a word, brethren, we get consumed with the actions of others, and we seek to control them. We can’t seem to mind our own business and be about our Father’s business to love our community with the gospel.
It seems appropriate to begin this discussion with a brief look at the conjoined issue of ego. Jesus always found a way to check the egos of His disciples when they interfered with the priorities of the kingdom of God. Three examples from Mark 9–10 are helpful to point this out. In Mark 9:33–37, the Lord had to refocus the whispers and debate among the Twelve regarding who was “great” in the kingdom of God. Greatness is measured by service, not by wielding power (cf. Luke 22:24–28). In Mark 9:38–41, Jesus corrected the disciples’ sense of managerial entitlement when they failed to stop a “nameless” disciple’s ministry. What matters is Jesus’ authority, not that of the disciples.
A little later, in Mark 10:13–16, the disciples impose their opinion on when Jesus was ready to provide ministry. Jesus undoes their harm by demonstrating that the kingdom of God is to be at the disposal of the vulnerable. I would argue that the actions of the disciples probably emerged from a good place, but these moments should remind us that personal ego often gets in our way of manifesting the kingdom of God. I truly believe the church is the place where our egos are supposed to die (Rom 6:1-10), but sadly they often resurrect.
We need to hear afresh the challenge from three letters: Jude, 1 Peter, and 3 John. At the heart of our church politics problems is that we have, at times, misapplied what it means to “contend for the faith” (Jude 3), become meddlers (1 Pet 4:15), and have failed to curb our egos (3 John 9).
Contending for the Faith
Many an article, sermon, blog, and petition have been published under the premise to “contend for the faith” (Jude 3). This is a very honorable goal. But at times the methods we use “to contend” lack Christian substance. The verb “to contend” (epagōnízomai) may be taken to mean, “to contend about a thing, as a combatant”[1] and give some legitimacy to a “war-time” church culture; but the metaphor should be taken in its natural direction. It may refer to “the intense effort” of an athlete to overcome the challenges of a sporting contest.[2] In this case, “to contend” is about self-discipline in the face of exertion, continuing the struggle for the sake of the faith.
Jude is the voice of reason the church needs to hear today. A careful reading of Jude does not support a “Cry ‘Havoc!,’ and let slip the [spiritual] dogs of war” agenda to demoralize and humiliate our brothers when we disagree theologically. In fact, Jesus warned that such tactics would endanger us with the fire of Gehenna (Matt 5:22). Instead, Jude writes that a proper response to the perversion of the gospel and subversion of Christ’s authority (v. 4) is to stay faithful to the content of the faith (v. 3), to trust in God’s Word, to trust the Lord will judge false teachers (vv. 5–9, 14–16), to trust that such people will self-destruct (vv. 10–13) and to maintain a Spirit-centered culture of grace, mercy, love, and redemption within the church (vv. 17–23)—all while affirming a distinction exists between the faithful and the ungodly false teachers and their corruption of the gospel itself (v. 12).
Jude does not shy away from revealing the errors of false teachers and the dangerous consequences that flow from their influence. The effort Jude speaks of is not to be spent on attacking the defectors, but instead, the exertion must be spent within our own souls, within our own congregations. We must resist the temptation to enable an ungodly inhospitable war-time church culture. With precision, Jude makes this little letter a rich description of the inhospitable environment the false teachers created in the church by their influence (vv. 12-13): they hinder love and community, they consume what others need, they withhold what is needed for life, and create a disappointing chaotic and unreliable spiritual incubator for the people of God. That is not what Jesus has called us to be.
Jude does not authorize intrusive efforts to “defend the faith.” Some among us have thought for quite some time that if they publicize an error long enough; generate enough brotherhood support; vilify the names of brethren or institutions; act like church “newscasters,” showing us the cold fronts of error among us; guide us through “connect the dots fellowship”; or act like church “J. Edgar Hoovers,” then we have contended for the faith. We have been so wrong. In truth, Jude’s brief message is bent on moving Christians to “exert effort” in embracing God’s wisdom, God’s sovereignty, and the Christian call to continue to be a fellowship of grace and mercy, love and forgiveness while affirming a distinction between ungodly false teachers and their corruption of the gospel itself (Jude 12). Those are quite different responses.
Jude concludes his letter by saying,
“But you, beloved, building yourselves up in your most holy faith and praying in the Holy Spirit, keep yourselves in the love of God, waiting for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ that leads to eternal life. And have mercy on those who doubt; save others by snatching them out of the fire; to others show mercy with fear, hating even the garment stained by the flesh” (vv. 20–23).
This is the work of contending. Today, we need to learn that many times the best way to deal with false teaching is to focus on the work of our local congregation, be patient with our brethren, and be gracious to those struggling rather than entering into a shouting match, in other words, staying busy with our own work and minding our own business.
Meddlers and Bullies
Meddlers. In 1 Peter, the apostle Peter addresses a number of Christian churches undergoing a forceful front of localized persecution of “shaming” in the northern provinces of Asia Minor (1:1; 2:12; 3:13; 4:4). Peter reminds them to respond to such shame-based threats by providing a kind and respectful verbal response, explaining their hope in Jesus as Lord (3:14–15). He further exhorts them to refrain from “clashes” with the community due to punishable crimes (murder, thievery, evil-doing, meddling; 4:15). Indeed, the only clash that will glorify God is when Christians are unjustly persecution for the name of Christ (4:16).
We need to give thought to Peter’s word, “meddler” (ESV, NIV). It is listed among the four offenses Christians must avoid. English translations show the difficulty of rendering this compound word (allotri + episkopos), the New Revised Standard Version has “mischief-maker”; the New King James Version, “busy-body”; and New American Standard Bible, “troublesome-meddler.” Quite possibly, Peter coined this word because it is found nowhere in Greek literature before him. At the core, the “meddler” is someone who apparently takes or seizes control of the affairs of others. Peter condemns Christians controlling others “tactlessly and without social graces.”[3] Too many times Christians think their duty is to control the choices of our neighbors. I suspect it is because we seek the right outcome of godliness. This, however, becomes a “no win” scenario. The local church is a fertile field for this temptation. Many cultish tactics have been used in the name of “discipling” our brethren. Pulpits are used not only to “persuade men” but to “meddle” in the affairs of our members. Elders cross the line separating overseeing and control. But those with more daring egos can emerge to be “the overseer” of brotherhood affairs with ungodly force and shame to establish control. Peter reminds us to “mind our own business.”
Bullies. In 3 John, the aged apostle John writes to Gaius an embattled faithful Christian leader, who is part of the collateral damage of a church bully named Diotrephes. The church setting was desperate, requiring his own personal touch (vv. 10, 13–14). The issue? False teaching? Nope. The tension was about control over mission work (vv. 5–8). Traveling preachers were part of early church culture. Over a period of time, John had commended several to this church for support, anticipating their needs would be supplied to reach the next leg of their journey. Instead, he found a polarizing church culture had matured, manifesting in Diotrephes and Gaius.
Maybe Diotrephes began this journey with a proper concern for church autonomy in matters of missions or with a desire to serve the church. The only motive explicitly given in this letter is that he “likes to put himself first” and his rejection of apostolic authority (3 John 9). The outcome, however, was wickedness, suppression, and subterfuge. He created an inhospitable and volatile church culture where suspicion reigns and alternative opinions are silenced and ousted (v. 10). It was all a bit like an Orwellian 1984 dystopia. Diotrephes was the “thought police.” He thrust his voice into areas beyond his authority, and in order to do so, he imposed his opinion by force and manipulation.
There is no question that ego became a problem, and behind that lay sin. Diotrephes became a mission-killing church bully because he chose self over the kingdom of God. He chose “preeminence” (KJV, ASV), “to be first” (NET), “to be in charge” (ISV), “to be number one” (Plain English NT), “to have first place” (FHV), “to be first in everything” (Phillips). Third John shows us the damage rendered by elders and preachers who dominate others like an “intolerant general” when something is not done their way. A church bully by any other name would still reek of wickedness. Brethren, we need to humble our pride and “mind our own business.”
Conclusion
I’ll be honest. Sometimes I feel like an outsider, even after being a part of the church for now over twenty years. But I have seen church bulletins as subtle tools for shaming congregational members and even preachers from outside of the congregation. I’ve known preacher friends receiving a copy of a brotherhood “journal” with a post-it note attached as a “friendly” reminder of how “misguided” they are for their views. Brotherhood magazines have been leveraged to do excessive numbers of exposés about this school or that preacher rather than teaching what the Bible says. For what purpose? To establish unity? None of this brings unity; instead, such actions seem designed to permanently polarize. Church, we can, and must, do better (John 13:35). Part of the solution is to be about our “local work” and to “mind our own business” (Romans 14:4).
Endnotes
W. E. Vine, Merrill F. Unger, and William White, Jr., Vine’s Complete Expository Dictionary of Old and Testament Words (Nashville: Nelson, 1985), 2:125.
E. Stauffer, s. v. “agōn,” Theological Dictionary of the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1964), 1:134-40. [In addition: BDAG 356, “The primary semantic component in the use of this verb in Jd 3 is the effort expended by the subject in a noble cause.” It gives “expression” to the Greco-Roman “ideal of dedication.”]
Thomas R. Schreiner, 1, 2 Peter, Jude (Nashville: B&H, 2003), 224-25.
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