The Newborn Temple
Christmas reminds us that Jesus is the true temple, true sacrifice, and true priest. Yet those who are united to him by faith are, strikingly, formed by God to be the same things: in Jesus we are a spiritual temple in which the Holy Spirit dwells (1 Corinthians 3:16), spiritual sacrifices offered in worship to the living God (Romans 12:1–2), and a spiritual priesthood consecrated to God (1 Peter 2:4–5). Thus, at Christmas we worship because by faith we are, at long last, enabled through the birth of Jesus to fulfill our creational longing: to be conformed to him as temple, sacrifice, and priests.
Ever since I was a kid, worshiping on Christmas Eve has been a given. I didn’t always want to do it, of course, because it made time slow down and, thus, delayed the long-awaited gift opening. Indeed, one year I may have opened a gift, played with it, and rewrapped it before the Christmas Eve church service without my parents’ knowledge! But the habit of worship imprinted on me immeasurably important lessons about Christmas.
We worship at Christmas because Jesus is the “reason for the season.” We worship because he is the coming Messiah. We worship because of the beauty of the story of a humble virgin Mary, a humble man Joseph, and a humble Christ-child who comes to save, yet lies in a manger. We worship because the fullness of time has arrived (Galatians 4:4).
But theoretically, you can reflect on all those wonderful aspects of Christmas at home in your pajamas. Thus, gathering for public worship is particularly fitting for one other reason. The birth of Jesus is the advent of the consummate place of worship: not a temple, but a person. The incarnation of the Son of God fulfills a human longing to enjoy the presence of and offer worship to the living God.
Universal Longing
All humans are wired to worship their Creator. Eden and its garden were symbolically configured as a sanctuary. God made his presence manifest there (Genesis 3:8). Adam was charged with working and keeping it (Genesis 2:15) and was even adorned, it seems, as a priest (Ezekiel 28:13–14). The tree of the knowledge of good and evil and the tree of life stood at the center of the garden and were, in due course, guarded by cherubim (Genesis 3:24), just as they guarded the ark at the center of the temple’s Most Holy Place. Men and women were, in other words, created to worship God in his place, and after our expulsion from Eden we have longed for a way back into the divine presence.
History, thus, is divided into two paths of worship. The false path runs through every pagan religion that strives to please its god(s) through rituals and sacred shrines. For instance, the Canaanites directed zeal toward Baal’s altars and Asherah’s groves (Judges 6:25); Philistines oriented worship around the sanctuary of Dagon (1 Samuel 5:2); Lystra hosted a temple and priesthood of Zeus (Acts 14:13); a plethora of gods, even “unknown” ones, were venerated with altars and statues in Athens (Acts 17:24); and the temple of the Ephesian Artemis was one of the seven wonders of the ancient world (Acts 19:35). Not much has changed in two millennia, as pagan shrines exist in every corner of the world, representing the universal longing for the divine.
The true path of worship winds through the people of Israel. The patriarchs worshiped Yahweh via temporary altars (Genesis 8:20; 12:7; 26:25; 28:18; 35:1). His glory appeared in terrifying fire and cloud upon Mount Sinai, where he was worshiped from afar (Exodus 19:16–25). The Israelites constructed a movable tent, the ark of the covenant, and other furnishings whereby sacrifices could be offered to their Lord, who filled it with his glorious presence (Exodus 40:16–38). Under King David, the ark of the covenant made its way to Jerusalem (2 Samuel 6:2). At long last King Solomon constructed a (seemingly) permanent and wondrous temple to Yahweh in Jerusalem, whose glorious presence again filled it magnificently — leading all Israelites to respond with effusive worship (2 Chronicles 7:1–4).
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The Great Shepherd of the Sheep | Hebrews 13:20-25
God equip us to do His will. Indeed, He must equip us to do His will, or we will not have the desire or ability to do so. He equips us, and He also works in us to do that which is pleasing in his sight. The sacrifices of praise, which we studied last week, are God’s will for us and are pleasing in His sight whenever we do walk in them. Acknowledging His name and doing good to others are the sacrifices of thanksgiving that we now give to God. Sounds easy enough, right? Loving God and loving our neighbor is so simple to say, but so impossible to actually live. Thankfully, God does not leave us on our own to accomplish these commands. He Himself actually enables us to do them.
Now may the God of peace who brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, the great shepherd of the sheep, by the blood of the eternal covenant, equip you with everything good that you may do his will, working in us that which is pleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen.
I appeal to you, brothers, bear with my word of exhortation, for I have written to you briefly. You should know that our brother Timothy has been released, with whom I shall see you if he comes soon. Greet all your leaders and all the saints. Those who come from Italy send you greetings. Grace be with all of you.
Hebrews 13:20-25 ESVIn Numbers 9:22-27, we find a particularly prized responsibility of the Levitical priests:
The LORD spoke to Moses, saying, “Speak to Aaron and his sons, saying, Thus you shall bless the people of Israel: you shall say to them,
The LORD bless you and keep you;the LORD make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you;the LORD lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.
So shall they put my name upon the people of Israel, and I will bless them.”
That priestly blessing is repeatedly and alluded to many more times throughout the Old Testament, especially within the Psalms. Psalm 67 is one of my personal favorites. And even in the New Testament, we still have allusions to this priestly invocation. The epistles typically open with a variation of this greeting: “Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ” (Romans 1:7). Often called benedictions, David Calhoun explains their significance, saying:
The Reformers noted that the benedictions of the Bible were more than the traditional way of parting; they were prayers of intercession. Furthermore, they were prayers of intercession by a messenger (such as Aaron, Melchizedek, Balaam, and Simeon) sent by God to proclaim that God had indeed granted the blessing promised in the benediction. The benediction was more than a general prayer of intercession; it was concerned with that spiritual blessing that God gave to Abraham and to his seed forever. That blessing was handed down from generation to generation in the temple and, later, in the church. In Christ Jesus ‘the blessing of Abraham’ had come to the Gentiles, wrote Paul in Galatians 3:14. Calvin explained that the benediction is God’s word in a special sense; it is a proclamation of grace, spoken by God’s ministers, by the power of God’s Spirit, and received by the people of faith. More than a prayer, it is a sermon. According to Calvin, the blessing God gives is himself.
BENEDICTIONS: A POCKET GUIDE, 9-10.
In our final passage of Hebrews, we find one of the most marvelous benedictions in all of Scripture, but of course it should not surprise us that the book that has been continuously calling us to set our eyes upon Jesus would conclude with such heavenly words of blessing.
Grace be with You All // Verses 22-24
Since verses 22-25 are a postscript to the sermon-letter itself, let us take a glance at them first before focusing squarely upon the great benediction given in verses 20-21.
I appeal to you, brothers, bear with my word of exhortation, for I have written to you briefly. Here the author calls his whole letter a word of exhortation. Throughout our study, I have said that Hebrews is primarily a written sermon that was sent out as a letter, and this description supports that thought. An exhortation is a charge or command to do something, and sermons ought to always be an exhortation in some form. Yes, the author has given us theological teachings of unfathomable depth, yet Hebrews is not simply a theological treatise or essay. The author wrote these words to urge us to do something, not merely to transfer knowledge into our minds. Particularly, his exhortation has been to consider Jesus and to look Him as we run with endurance the race of faith that is before us. And just as the author has repeatedly emphasized God’s act of speaking to His people, the appeal to bear with this exhortation is a call to listen carefully to what was said, to pay close attention to the words that we have just heard.
We may find it humorous that the author calls these thirteen chapters of a sermon brief, but I find this to be a wonderful vindication. Hebrews takes about 40-45 minutes to read, and since my sermons consistently hover around that same timeframe, I have biblical justification for saying that my sermons are brief!
In all seriousness, anyone who has ever taught deeply through a book of the Bible knows that the author is not exaggerating in the slightest. John concluded his Gospel by saying of Jesus’ earthly ministry: “Now there are also many other things that Jesus did. Were every one of them to be written, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written” (John 21:25). If that is true of Jesus’ earthly ministry, how much more of His heavenly ministry that has been the focus of Hebrews? John Brown wrote: “I have delivered nearly one hundred lectures of an hour’s length on this Epistle; and yet I am persuaded I have but very imperfectly brought out those ‘treasures of wisdom and knowledge’ which are contained in these brief terms” (726). Although Hebrews speaks briefly on Christ, we could each spend the remainder of our lives only studying this book, and we will still say with Brown that we have only imperfectly discovered its treasures.
In verse 23, the author informs his readers that Timothy has been released from prison and apparently hopes to see the readers along with the author. This is the only reference to Timothy’s imprisonment in the New Testament.
Verse 24 urges the readers to make the author’s greetings known to the whole church. The greeting of those who come from Italy may be read in one of two ways. If the readers were in or near Rome, then these were Italian Christians who were currently wherever the author was. If the readers were in Jerusalem or anywhere else outside of Italy, then these were Christians in Italy where the author must have been. It is likely that we will never definitely know which is correct in this life.
The God of Peace & Our Lord Jesus // Verses 20
Circling back to the great benediction in verses 20-21, we find the three major sections within it. First, in verse 20, the author invokes the God of peace and proceeds to give a snapshot of how He has brought us peace with Himself through his Son, our Lord Jesus. Second, in verse 21, we find what the author is calling upon God to do for us and work in us. Third, verse 21 concludes the benediction with a doxology ascribing all glory to our God.
Now may the God of peace Even though “our God is a consuming fire” (12:29) and even though the holiness of His presence caused Isaiah to cry out in terror, He is the nevertheless the God of peace. Indeed, the peace that God brings is not simply the cessation of strife; rather, it means being complete, whole, and being well. I think R. Kent Hughes is right to see a parallel here with Jeremiah 29:11, “which reads literally, “‘For I know the plans I am planning for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans for shalom and not for calamity, to give you a future and a hope’” (based on NASB). Significantly, this promise of shalom was given to God’s covenant people at the beginning of the Babylonian captivity when it appeared that the seas of the Gentile world had inundated God’s people for good” (471-472).
Where these Jewish Christians not facing the prospect of something just as terrifying? The sword of Rome was readying to strike them down. They could run back to Judaism to escape, but they would be abandoning Him who sits in the heavens and laughs at the plotting of nations and conspiring of rulers. Just as God sustained His people while in Babylon, so would He sustain them while in Rome. Indeed, here in the 21st Century we have the wonder of hindsight to behold that Babylon and Rome are nothing but history, while God’s people continue to endure as His kingdom continues to expand. Thus, this was no empty promise of peace.
Indeed, we can take comfort in the God of peace, whether in life or death, because He is the God who raises the dead: who brought again from the dead. The very worst that befall us in this life is death, which is a great enemy of mankind. Yet although we must all still die, Christ’s death and resurrection has removed the sting from death. It is no doubt still an unpleasant and sobering reality, but Christians do not need to fear death, for the One who conquered death through death is not ashamed to call us His brothers. And because He is our Savior, His resurrection is the security of our own resurrection. As Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 15:20-23:
But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. For as by a man came death, by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive. But each in his own order: Christ the firstfruits, then at his coming those who belong to Christ.
This resurrected Savior is also the great shepherd of the sheep. God’s people are the sheep, which is imagery used throughout Scripture in places like Psalms 23 and 100.
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The Bible’s Beautiful Both/And
Like the rest of Scripture, the psalms are both divinely inspired and thoroughly human. Even more wondrously, they are simultaneously God’s words to us and our words to God. Most important, these spiritual songs filled and expressed the heart of the eternal Word made flesh. They prophesied cosmic wholeness, and they fed the soul of the human who’d accomplish it.
Our era is marked by a deep hunger for wholeness, intactness, integrity. We’re all painfully aware that—globally, nationally, and personally—“things fall apart.” Christians know the Lord is the one in whom all things hold together (Col. 1:17) and that he’ll return to bring full healing to a fallen, fragmented world. But what happens in the meantime—when, under severe pressure, our most personal way of connecting to him collapses as well? If we’re not careful, efforts to bind up a brokenhearted faith can create further fractures within our souls.
In a moving personal reflection, James K. A. Smith describes himself as a philosopher who has lost faith in the religiously persuasive power of reason. Smith isn’t advocating an anti-intellectual faith; he’s calling for anti-intellectualism in connecting to Christian truth. He decries the emotional barrenness and pastoral ineptitude of the “baseline Platonic picture of the human person in which reason rules the passions and emotions.”
Smith’s confidence in philosophy (as he frames it) crumbled during a time of deep depression when reason couldn’t make sense of his condition, much less lift him from a pit of inexplicable despair. He lauds the presence of his counselor who, instead of offering abstract analysis, lovingly jumped in beside him.
Seeing his personal despair writ large in culture, Smith concludes that “we can’t think our way out of this mess.” Tired of trading in the “truths of the intellect,” he announces: “I’m throwing in my lot with the poets and painters, the novelists and songwriters.”
My purpose here is not to directly respond to Smith (others have done so). If Smith is merely rejecting rationalism and its residue in Western faith, then with him I say “good riddance.” His vision for creative art’s contributions to faith and human wholeness is beautiful. Yet there is a warning in the way that—in tune with our tribalistic times—Smith praises good things partly by punishing other good things for being different.
Fragmented Faith
Smith cites Hans Urs von Balthasar as motivation for a new modus operandi: “Love alone is credible; nothing else can be believed, and nothing else ought to be believed.” Smith reasons, “If love alone is credible, literature is truer than philosophy.” He wants to write with “allure rather than acuity,” in a way that works “from the imagination up. Philosophy is out because it “doesn’t ‘speak’ imagination,” and the logician “speaks a tongue that’s foreign to the heart.”
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A Second Fundamentalism and the Butterfly of American Christianity
Christianity has been through many conflicts throughout the centuries, some of which have been far more challenging and destructive than the current debates about justice. Being in the midst of a conflict is very hard, but God has always brought his church through those conflicts. And reorienting ourselves to the more complex world we live in is an important step in that direction.
We live in a time of division, as many of us can wearily testify, but we also live in a time of disorientation. Navigating divisions can be challenging, but the challenge multiplies when we are disoriented, and that is a less recognized element of the times we live in.
That we are disoriented and not just divided is evidenced by the numerous and diverse attempts to frame the disagreements among American Christians. Kevin DeYoung’s framing points towards postures, tendencies and fears; Karen Swallow Prior finds helpful framing in the exposure of syncretism in Tara Isabella Burton’s Strange Rites; Voddie Baucham’s book is titled Faultlines, and identifies the problem as ideological; Timothy Dalrymple diagnoses three areas of fracturing: media, authority and information among communities; Michael Graham and Skylar Flowers frame the primary conflicts between Neo-Fundamentalists and Neo-Evangelicals, and between Mainstream Evangelicals and Post-Evangelicals; and denominationally speaking, Ross Douthat sees the liberal and conservative wings of Catholicism as misdiagnosing each other, while Trevin Wax says of problems facing the SBC, “Dig below the topics of debate and you’ll find different postures, competing visions, and broken trust.”
These attempts at framing are significant for how they indicate a heightened sense among American Christians that we are in a truly significant period of time for the Church in America. It also indicates that we are aware of a deeper root to our disagreements, but that we aren’t sure what that root is exactly. It’s a feeling that Brian Fikkert captures in the intro to his book, Becoming Whole:
Life feels unstable and uncertain, as if the foundations are shifting. But it’s difficult to pinpoint exactly what’s changing, why it’s changing, and where it’s all heading. All we know is there’s a gnawing sense of anxiety that wasn’t there before.
That gnawing sense of anxiety comes from disorientation, and it’s important to find where that disorientation is coming from. We know the key issues: race, Trump, gender roles, gay marriage etc., but the attempts at framing are seeking something deeper, as well they should. For decades, we have imagined American spirituality in a simplistic, linear way, but the events of recent years have proven that framing to be outmoded and inadequate.
The Simplistic Linear Imagination of American Spirituality
Picturing various modes of thought along a spectrum can be a helpful way of organizing ideas within culture. It simplifies and organizes perspectives in a way that can be easily taught. Tim Keller – to use one example among many possible examples – uses a ‘Spectrum of Justice Theories’ to picture the different ways of understanding justice that are common in Western Culture.
It is common to imagine various strains of Christian belief in a similar linear way. The particular labels can differ, but the vision is essentially this: Fundamentalism is at one end of the spectrum, and unbelief is at the other, with evangelicals and Mainline/Liberal Christians in between:This spectrum maps fairly directly onto Kevin DeYoung’s 4 Approaches to Race, Politics and Gender, and is a simpler version of Michael Graham’s 6 Way Fracturing of Evangelicalism, but what’s particularly important about the spectrum is not just that it is a common way of imagining American spirituality, but also that it informs what a friend of mine has called ‘Slippery Slope Discipleship.’ That is, to imagine a linear spectrum of Fundamentalism to Secularism is to imagine a spiritual world where some modes of belief are considered safe, and others are thought to be dangerous, slippery slopes that lead out of Christianity altogether.
Thaddeus Williams, in Confronting Injustice Without Compromising Truth speaks this way of Christians who embrace a particular type of social justice: “There is… a predictable pattern: one [secular] doctrine tends to lead to another, then another, until many Christians end up abandoning their faith” (p164).
Al Mohler also speaks this way in The Gathering Storm:
Liberal Protestantism and secularization have merged, creating a new and dangerous context for biblically committed Christians… because of secularization’s effect, liberal theology sometimes even infiltrates churches that think themselves to be committed to theological orthodoxy. Secularism has desensitized many people sitting in the pews of faithful, gospel-preaching churches, leading them to unwittingly hold even heretical doctrines.
This way of thinking is common among the Neo-Fundamentalist Evangelicals and the Mainstream Evangelicals (to use Michael Graham’s terminology) who are concerned about the Church drifting into and assimilating with secularism. And many Liberal Protestants would proudly see themselves as occupying a third way between the extremes of fundamentalism on one side and unbelief on the other. But the Fundamentalism-Secularism spectrum is failing as a way to understand American Christianity, and we need to understand why.
In one sense, it should not be surprising that a linear spectrum is failing as a way to frame anything today. A significant part of Charles Taylor’s analysis of secularism in A Secular Age was to describe our contemporary age as a supernova of options for belief. Taylor has outlined many of the reasons for this, but there are particular changes that in very recent years have catalyzed the shift to the supernova in American evangelicalism, and I would argue that these changes are responsible for much of our disorientation.
Conservative and Progressive Secularism
Two of these changes deserve extended attention, but it is necessary to preface them by briefly addressing one particular issue: the increasing utilization of non-Christian thinkers by Neo-Fundamentalists. Voddie Baucham, for example, in Faultlines, heavily utilizes the work of James Lindsay, and Thaddeus Williams utilizes Andrew Sullivan, Jordan Peterson, and especially Thomas Sowell (whom he calls “the second Saint Thomas”). Many other examples could be given.
The significance of this is that it disrupts the way that Mohler, Williams, and other Neo-Fundamentalists often speak of secularism, when, as quoted earlier, they describe secularism as if it was inherently aligned with progressive politics. With popular unbelieving conservatives like Ben Shapiro, James Lindsay, and Jordan Peterson, we must understand that secularism very much exists today in both left-leaning and right-leaning forms, such that if there is a ‘slippery slope’, it does not descend in only one direction. For any framing to be useful for understanding our divided times it must account for Neo-Fundamentalism being flanked by a conservative form of secularism. A slightly more accurate (but still flawed) version of the Fundamentalism-Secularism spectrum would distinguish between ‘Conservative Secularism’ (represented by Andrew Sullivan, Jordan Peterson, Thomas Sowell and others) and ‘Progressive Secularism’ (represented by Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Beto O’Rourke, Bernie Sanders and others) and might look like this:With this clarification, we can consider the two significant disruptions to this spectrum. I would identify those two key changes as:
1) the on-going development of what could be called a ‘Second Fundamentalism’ (especially involving the topic of social justice)
2) the delegitimizing of evangelical moderacy by conflicts over racism and abuse (which plays out even more broadly through the conflict between emotional health and stoicism)
It’s important to consider each one of these changes, and then seek to re-form our imagination of how American spirituality is playing out.
The Proliferation of a ‘Second Fundamentalism’ with Theological Concerns
The Fundamentalism-Secularism imagination is being disrupted in large part through a new kind of fundamentalism which has proliferated among evangelicals oriented to justice, particularly those who would identify as Neo-Evangelical or Post-Evangelical in Michael Graham’s formulation. These concerns about justice are not simply social in nature, but they are also very much theological, and this means that this ‘Second Fundamentalism’[1] cannot be simply viewed as one step away from secularism and unbelief.
Using the term ‘fundamentalism’ in any identifier can sound like a back-handed way to mark advocates of justice with disparaging terminology, but it is precisely their similarity to the original fundamentalism of the early 1900s that is important for understanding how they disrupt the simplistic linear imagination.
Consider some well-known quotes of J. Gresham Machen, which I have lightly edited to show how much Christian advocates of social justice today sound like him (with substituted words in italics):
“It is impossible to be a true soldier of Jesus Christ and not fight for justice.”
“I can see little consistency in a type of Christian activity which preaches the gospel on the street corners and at the ends of earth, but neglects the children next door.”
“Christianity is not engrossed by this transitory America, but measures all things by the thought of love.”
“Patriotism is a mighty force. It is either subservient to the gospel or else it is the deadliest enemy of the gospel.”
Or compare Machen’s rousing call to stand strong against opposition to the gospel to Beth Moore’s call to do the same in the face of White supremacy:
Machen:
Let us not fear the opposition of men; every great movement in the Church from Paul down to modern times has been criticized on the ground that it promoted censoriousness and intolerance and disputing. Of course the gospel of Christ, in a world of sin and doubt will cause disputing; and if it does not cause disputing and arouse bitter opposition, that is a fairly sure sign that it is not being faithfully proclaimed.
Moore:
If you’re gonna let a little name-calling keep you from standing up for what you believe according to the Word of God… you ain’t ready. White supremacy has held tight in much of the church for so long because the racists outlasted the anti racists. Outlast THEM.
They’re going to call you a Marxist, a liberal (their worst possible derision) & a leftist. They’re going to make fun of your “wokeness” & they’re going to say you’ve departed all faithfulness to the Scriptures. If you teach or preach, they’ll say you are a false teacher/prophet.
Just as Tom Holland has argued in Dominion that secularism is an expected and unsurprising product of Christianity, so we might also say that the Second Fundamentalism is an unsurprising way to follow the lead of Machen.
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