We do not profess a religion that despises the body. Christ speaks of us as his body, a body that spans the globe and extends through time. To disdain our flesh is to neglect the Incarnation and our membership in this historical communal body.

I teach in a great books program at an Evangelical university. Almost all students in the program are born-and-bred Christians of the nondenominational variety. A number of them have been both thoroughly churched and educated through Christian schools or homeschooling curricula. Yet an overwhelming majority of these students do not believe in a bodily resurrection. While they trust in an afterlife of eternal bliss with God, most of them assume this will be disembodied bliss, in which the soul is finally free of its “meat suit” (a term they fondly use).
I first caught wind of this striking divergence from Christian orthodoxy in class last year, when we encountered Stoic visions of the afterlife. Cicero, for one, describes the body as a prison from which the immortal soul is mercifully freed upon death, whereas Seneca views the body as “nothing more or less than a fetter on my freedom,” one eventually “dissolved” when the soul is set loose. These conceptions were quite attractive to the students.
Resistance to the idea of a physical resurrection struck them as perfectly logical. “It doesn’t feel right to say there’s a human body in heaven, when the body is tied so closely to sin,” said one student. In all, fewer than ten of my forty students affirmed the orthodox teaching that we will ultimately have a body in our glorified, heavenly form. None of them realizes that these beliefs are unorthodox; this is not willful doctrinal error. This is an absence of knowledge about the foundational tenets of historical, creedal Christianity.
At some point in my Evangelical upbringing, I came across a timeline of world history. The timeline started with Adam and Eve, then moved through significant events recounted in the Old Testament, with a few extra-biblical highlights from elsewhere in the world spliced in here and there. The fulcrum of the timeline was the birth of Christ, followed by details from his life and ministry, then post-Resurrection events from the Book of Acts. All these episodes were demarcated by bright colors, with neat lines stretching upward into the margins, connecting each sliver of color to a corresponding label. After Paul’s ministry, however, this busy rainbow of history dissolved into a dull purple rectangle spanning fourteen centuries, labeled simply “the Dark Ages.”
This is an apt illustration of all too many young Christians’ sense of Christian history. The world after the New Testament is blank and uneventful. Even the Reformation is an obscure blip. They are not self-consciously Protestant, but merely “nondenominational.” Their Christian identity is unmoored from any tradition or notion of Christianity through time.
My students are a microcosm of what I see as a growing trend in contemporary Evangelicalism. Without a guiding connection to orthodoxy, young Evangelicals are developing heterodox sensibilities that are at odds with a Christian understanding of personhood. The body is associated with sin, the soul with holiness. Moreover, this sense of the body, especially under the alias flesh, tends to be hypersexualized.
Nowhere is this more pronounced than in the Evangelical emphasis on purity, a word that has become synonymous with bodily virginity. Despite the biblical usage of purity as holiness in a broader, holistic sense, including but not limited to sexual matters, the word “purity” has become narrowly sexualized. It is not a virtue to be continually cultivated, but a default physical state that can be permanently lost.
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The hypostatic union is the theological term for the fact that Jesus, in his incarnation, has two natures. He is (and always has been/always will be) the eternal Son of God, the second person of the Trinity. In Jesus, the fullness of God dwells. He has all the attributes of God, all the excellencies of Yahweh, and all the prerogatives of deity. They are all his. He is omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent. He is truly God….Jesus was also truly man, descended from Adam and Abraham, in the line of Judah and David. He was limited in time, space, and knowledge…he is truly human.

In honor of the World Cup semi-final later today between Argentina and Croatia—which will be absolutely bonkers, by the way—here is a post to help spiritualize your soccer watching. Goalkeepers have a lot to teach us concerning the hypostatic union, the person/nature distinction evident in Jesus, and the kenosis of the Son of God.
Hypostatic union:
Goalkeepers are by far the most interesting players on the soccer field. They really do exist in two different planes. First, they are just like every other player. All the laws of soccer apply to them. The equipment rules are the same for every player. They take up a spot on the roster. They can go anywhere on the field, and do everything that any other soccer player can do. All the rules apply to them. They are, in short, just another player.
But then there is the second plane: inside the penalty area, they suddenly acquire a new nature. When they are in the 18, they can use their hands. They are protected from challenges. Other players cannot interfere with their ability to release the ball. There is a whole set of rules governing what they are allowed to do with the ball when it is in their hands, and these rules don’t apply to the other players.
Basically, the goal-keeper is a walking contradiction. Now, for most keepers and in most games, the dual nature of the position is irrelevant. Many keepers are content to stay inside the area, doing goal keeper things, and being treated by fans, officials, and opponents alike as if they were special—because, let’s face it, when they are in the box, they are sort of special.
But every now and then you’ll encounter a more adventurous keeper; one who leaves the 18 to take a free kick upfield, or to release pressure by receiving passes. Sometimes they will go all the way to the other end to take a free kick, or get on the receiving side of a corner, or maybe just to get involved in the attack.
Why would a keeper do this? Perhaps their team is down a goal, or maybe he has the best shot of any one else? It could be that he just got bored staying put.  But the point is, he doesn’t really need a reason. After all, the other players don’t need special reasons to do what they do, and once the keeper steps outside of his box, he is just like every other player.
The hypostatic union is the theological term for the fact that Jesus, in his incarnation, has two natures. He is (and always has been/always will be) the eternal Son of God, the second person of the Trinity. In Jesus, the fullness of God dwells. He has all the attributes of God, all the excellencies of Yahweh, and all the prerogatives of deity. They are all his. He is omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent. He is truly God. That is nature #1.
Jesus was also truly man, descended from Adam and Abraham, in the line of Judah and David. He was limited in time, space, and knowledge. He was just like every other player on the field, in that he is truly human; that is nature #2.
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The reason for this is that man, of himself, cannot really come to the knowledge of the truth. The more man learns by his own effort (by the unaided power of his own mind), the more he faces the unknown. Just as a balloon, when it is blown up, expands in every direction, so does man’s learning bring him face to face with the endless mystery of the wonderful works of God.

Preface
The writings of G.I. Williamson were very influential in my life as a young Christian. His love for Scripture inspired me to receive the teachings of the Holy Bible with an implicit kind of faith.
I continue to recommend his study guide on the Westminster Shorter Catechism to catechumens and was recently reminded of his expert ability to communicate complex theological concepts to readers of all ages.
For example, the Barthian, or Neo-orthodox, view of Scripture is not the easiest thing to explain, but it is essential that Christians understand it. It is a very subtle heresy that starts with one small-but-sinister step: Separating the “text” of God’s Word from the “truth” of God’s Word.
People prove their willingness to do this in a variety of ways, but one of the most common seems to be the church’s increased tolerance for textual variants and contemporary translations.
Whenever someone (like me) complains about a word being deleted or changed, the concern is immediately rejected with the ready response, “It doesn’t ultimately matter because no doctrine is affected.”
Is this the way Reformed Christians now view Scripture? Is the “text” actually expendable so long as “truth” is preserved? If so, then how is this essentially different from Barthianism?
G.I. graciously granted me permission to repost the chapter from his study guide that exposes the error of Barthianism. As you read it, and especially as you come to the illustrations, try to put yourself in “Shorty’s” shoes for a minute or two. Which image best illustrates your view of Scripture? Could it be that we are all Barthians now? I certainly hope not, but sometimes I do wonder.
Christian McShaffreyPastor, Five Solas Church
Chapter TwoThe WSC Study GuideBy G.I. Williamson
Q. What rule hath God given to direct us how we may glorify and enjoy him?
A. The Word of God, which is contained in the Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments, is the only rule to direct us how we may glorify and enjoy him.
“All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness” (2 Timothy 3:16).
“If any man shall add unto these things, God shall add unto him the plagues that are written in this book: and if any man shall take away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God shall take away his part out of the book of life…” (Revelation 22:18-19).
Introduction
Strange as it may seem, Jesus once said that God has “hid . . . things from the wise and prudent, and . . . revealed them unto babes” (Luke 10:21). In other words, some of the most intelligent and best-educated people lack true wisdom. And some very simple people who are not well educated have true wisdom.
The reason for this is that man, of himself, cannot really come to the knowledge of the truth. The more man learns by his own effort (by the unaided power of his own mind), the more he faces the unknown. Just as a balloon, when it is blown up, expands in every direction, so does man’s learning bring him face to face with the endless mystery of the wonderful works of God.
For example, new and more powerful telescopes have been invented by men in order that they might study the secrets of the stars. But what has been the result? The result has been this: they now have many millions of new stars to study!
This is one reason why scientific theory is constantly changing. For the more men discover, the more they also discover how much more there is that they do not know. Thus, because men cannot know everything (there is just too much!), they finally get discouraged and realize that they cannot really know anything for sure.
Two Kinds of Revelation
Now the reason for this is that God did not make man to know everything (or, for that matter, anything) by his own power. Only God knows everything, and so, from the beginning, only God could give to man a sure knowledge of anything at all. From the beginning, this knowledge came to man in two ways:
(1) The first way in which God revealed himself is what we call natural revelation.
“The heavens declare the glory of God,” says the Psalmist; “and the firmament sheweth his handywork” (Ps. 19:1). “The invisible things of him [God] from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made” (Rom. 1:20).
(2) The second way in which God revealed himself is what we call special revelation.
For even in paradise God spoke to Adam. Adam had God’s word in addition to his works. Adam, by his study of nature, could know much. But he could not know all. He could not know, for example, what had not yet come to pass. In order to be sure of so “simple” a thing as eating fruit from a tree, it was necessary for him to interpret the “facts of nature” in the “light of God’s word.”
When Adam sinned against God, he rejected God’s word. He acted as if he did not need God to tell him what was right. Instead, he decided to try the so-called “scientific method” (that is, the “trial and error” method of discovering truth. And from that time to this, Adam and all his posterity (except for those who come to salvation through Jesus Christ) have walked in darkness.
This is not because of any “darkness” in God’s revelation. The “light” of God still shines brightly in everything that that God has made. But if man in the beginning (sinless Adam) could not understand the “light” of nature, without the “light” of God’s word, how much more is this true for us! For the only way in which man can be saved from sin is revealed in the Bible alone.
The revelation of God in nature is sufficient to leave men without excuse. It shows them the glory of the true God so that they ought to worship and serve him. But it is only in the Bible that men actually can learn what they must believe (in order to be saved from sin) and do (in order to serve God once more).
The Meaning of “Contained In”
But what does the Catechism mean when it says that “the word of God . . . is contained in the Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments?” By these words we are to understand that the very words which we find in the Bible are from God. However, in order to understand this clearly, we need to understand the wrong way in which these words (contained in) have been taken.
Since the time that this Catechism was written, clever men have tried to use the same words (“contained in”) with a meaning very different from what is intended by the Catechism.
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