…civil righteousness is not a righteousness that will justify those that possess it. It is righteous only by sinful human standards, not by that perfect standard which God requires (Matt. 5:48; Jas. 2:10). The righteousness by which he justifies comes only through faith in Christ (Rom. 3:21-26, 28; Gal. 2:16; Eph. 2:8; Phil. 3:9), a thing which many Israelis and their government deny. Let us all therefore pray for the peace of Israel, but especially for that spiritual peace with God which she currently lacks (Rom. 5:1; comp. Isa. 32:17). For her salvation will not consist in earthly prosperity or triumph in this or any other war, but in her reconciliation to the God who created her and revealed himself in her land as Jesus of Nazareth. 

War is not a matter of morality. Morality matters in war, as in business and politics and every other endeavor, but war is not itself a question of right and wrong. To be in the right is not enough to commend fighting a war. There are many other factors that must be considered, such as the probability of winning, the desired outcome, and whether the necessary sacrifices will be worth it all.
War is, in fact, a question of politics, economics, and prudence. By economics I do not mean anything to do with jobs, commerce, or any of the other things politicians mean when they talk about economic matters. Economics in its proper (as opposed to its popular/political) definition is the study of the use of scarce resources that have alternative uses (to paraphrase Lionel Robbins’ definition). Few things make the scarcity of resources felt more acutely than war: there are only so many troops and so much money and materiel to use in waging war, and it tends to consume them in enormous amounts with frightful rapidity. A nation can be morally superior to its rival, but that will not avail it if its military and economy are insufficient to overcome the unrighteous enemy in war. This economic consideration received the explicit mention of our Lord (Lk. 14:31-32).
And so also with the question of politics. What is militarily feasible is not always politically feasible or advisable. In the Afghan War it would have been militarily feasible for us to have invaded the border regions of Pakistan where the Taliban had sheltered with the local tribes. But it would not have been politically advisable, for it would have brought about a breach with Pakistan, further radicalized many people there against us, and deprived us of that necessary (if unsteady and partial) support which we received from her.
And where something is not economically or politically feasible it is not prudent to go ahead with it, even in those cases where one has been wronged or is unquestionably right in a dispute. It is this which many pundits have forgotten in the fortnight since Hamas attacked Israel on October 7th. Yes, this is about as much a clear-cut matter of good versus evil as can be imagined in this world. Hamas is in the foremost ranks of depravity, as its actions show, and Israel is, by contrast, one of the most honorable and humane belligerents in history.
But that is largely beside the point. Hamas was wrong to attack Israel as it did, and while Israel has the right to defend itself, including by a counteroffensive into Gaza to destroy Hamas’s warfighting and civilian-murdering capabilities (i.e., its very existence), that says nothing about whether it is economically or politically feasible to do so. It takes but little reflection to see that Israel is in a difficult position. If it invades and destroys Hamas but then withdraws it is only a matter of time before a new Hamas arises. Gaza is essentially a giant refugee camp with squalid conditions that seem to breed an anti-Israel culture that will breed a new Hamas even if the current one is eradicated. Such an incursion is perhaps prudent in the short term, but it doesn’t provide a long-term solution – and this is now the third time Israel has invaded Gaza since it ended its previous occupation in 2005.
Alternatively, Israel could conquer Gaza and expel the inhabitants, except that it is not clear where they would go. The Arab nations refuse to take any refugees, and if any appreciable number made it to the West Bank that would almost certainly throw it into the hands of Hamas and be worse for Israel’s security, Gaza being much smaller and easier to guard than the West Bank. Israel could try to force another nation to take them by force, but that would entail another major regional war, probably undo all the diplomacy of the last 40 plus years, appreciably unsettle the global economy, and put the US in a difficult position politically and diplomatically.
Or Israel could once again occupy Gaza, as it did from 1967 to 2005, though that would entail all the difficulties of a military occupation. And given the security troubles it has just experienced in its own country, it seems reasonable to think they wouldn’t be easier in a place with a hostile culture. Lastly, Israel could forego an invasion, though that would embolden Hamas, earn them more recruits, and leave their offensive capabilities largely intact.
In short, Israel is in a difficult spot, and it is not clear how she should act. She is in this spot, not because of any lack of courage or martial prowess, but because of the current political environment; and that means that her being right has nothing to do with the question of what is prudent for her to do right now. One can say she should conquer Gaza, or occupy it, or eliminate Hamas without permanent annexation or occupation. Those are questions of military policy that have nothing to do with our faith; and they are ones about which many commentators are not fit to offer their opinions.
The only thing our faith has to say about the matter is that all people need personal forgiveness and that there is no such thing as a national righteousness (in war or otherwise) that saves anyone’s soul, as well as that the actual outworking of God’s providence has demonstrated the truth of my claims above about the nature of war and civil righteousness. Judah, even in the tenure of her righteous kings, was dwarfed by Israel, which went astray from the first. United Israel, even at its height under David and Solomon, was an insignificant backwater compared to many of her neighbors (Amos 7:5), and especially so in comparison to the wicked pagan empires by which she was conquered in succession: Assyria, Babylon, Persia, Macedon, the Ptolemies and the Seleucids, and Rome.
If civil righteousness meant earthly prowess and military success, we would not expect these things to be so; and granting that foreign oppression and defeat were punishments for infidelity to the Lord (Deut. 28:25, 31-34), there is still the fact that Israel was sometimes more righteous than its defeaters (Habakkuk’s complaint, 1:12-17), and that civil righteousness did not guarantee Israel’s military success. When David took a census (perhaps with a view toward territorial expansion, 2 Sam. 22:45-48), God regarded it as sin and punished Israel (2 Sam. 24). We might think that God would wish for the only civilly righteous nation on Earth to be as large as possible,[1] and yet we see in that episode that this was not God’s intention. In the times of the old covenant too God’s kingdom was spiritual and not synonymous with the Jewish nation, nor did its interests preclude other nations excelling Israel or ruling her.
In his providence both Israel and other nations had their places, and the development of his kingdom and the revelation of his Messiah did not require – and indeed, may have been hindered by – Israel experiencing imperial status and military success. It is conceivable that, even if Israel had been faithful to her covenant with God, she would still have been a small nation of little earthly significance. The greater her temporal glory, the harder it would have been for Israel to realize that God’s kingdom did not lie in such things, was not limited to her but was a spiritual gift for his elect among all peoples.
And so it is in our day as well. Civil righteousness is always imperfect, incomplete, and prone to rapid disappearance when circumstances change. It is not so essential to a nation’s legitimacy as to cause it to cease to be a nation where it is lost or to preclude a nation that lacks it from attaining earthly prominence or defeating a comparatively more righteous nation. Great empires are seldom morally commendable, but that has not kept God from using them for his purposes (Ex. 9:16; 14:17; Prov. 16:4).
The most important thing, however, is that civil righteousness does nothing to ensure the personal salvation of a nation’s citizens. Indeed, it may prove the snare that blinds them to their need for personal forgiveness or makes them imagine that the victims of cruelty and defeat proved thereby that they suffered their fate as divine punishment. Consider this episode from Jesus’ First Advent:
There were some present at that very time who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. And he answered them, “Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all the other Galileans, because they suffered in this way? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all likewise perish” (Lk. 13:1-3).
The immediate meaning of this is that suffering says nothing of the moral state of its victims, and that all people will perish unless they personally repent their sin. Its practical implication is of great importance as well, however, and that is that Christ’s primary concern is not with the justice of temporal affairs, but with the personal, eternal fate of individuals. Pilate’s act here bore the same character as Hamas’ recent actions: it was an act of bloodlustful murder by a foreign oppressor that included the blasphemous desecration of the victims’ bodies. And yet Jesus did not say that this called for any earthly retribution, much less commend his hearers to rebel against Rome on its account. Rather, he used it as an occasion to warn them to turn their attention to matters of eternal consequence that lay within their personal power and responsibility.
And so it should be in our case as well. How Israel responds to Hamas’ recent outrage is a military and political question that is beyond our immediate influence as citizens of a nation several thousand miles away. Justice and prudence may commend that we personally intervene on Israel’s behalf (e.g., by donating medical supplies) or urge our government to do so in a responsible way – indeed, I think they do commend such things – but the most important thing, more important by far than what will transpire in the coming days of the present war, is that we remember that the wars and kingdoms of this world will soon pass away, whereas the souls of those that are involved will endure forever. Looking after the soul is the key thing, and it is just there that Israel, for all her civil righteousness, greatly needs the Lord’s mercy.
For at the last, civil righteousness is not a righteousness that will justify those that possess it. It is righteous only by sinful human standards, not by that perfect standard which God requires (Matt. 5:48; Jas. 2:10). The righteousness by which he justifies comes only through faith in Christ (Rom. 3:21-26, 28; Gal. 2:16; Eph. 2:8; Phil. 3:9), a thing which many Israelis and their government deny. Let us all therefore pray for the peace of Israel, but especially for that spiritual peace with God which she currently lacks (Rom. 5:1; comp. Isa. 32:17). For her salvation will not consist in earthly prosperity or triumph in this or any other war, but in her reconciliation to the God who created her and revealed himself in her land as Jesus of Nazareth.
Tom Hervey is a member of Woodruff Road Presbyterian Church, Five Forks (Simpsonville), SC. The opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not of necessity reflect those of his church or its leadership or other members. He welcomes comments at the email address provided with his name. He is also author of Reflections on the Word: Essays in Protestant Scriptural Contemplation. 
[1] 2 Sam. 24:1 says that David’s census arose, ultimately, because God was angry with Israel, which seems to contradict my characterization of it as the only civilly righteous nation on earth, as God’s anger would have been provoked by Israelite sin. But as I show elsewhere, civil righteousness is always conceived as such from a human standpoint and does not equal righteousness in the sight of God, nor fully accord with his providential will concerning the kingdom of God. From a human standpoint, Israel in David’s day would be considered just, but obviously she did not fully please God.
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Written by Keith A. Mathison |
Wednesday, July 12, 2023
What are the three uses of the moral law? They are the political use, the pedagogical use, and the normative use. The first and second uses are found in a different order in some discussions. The third use of the law (Latin tertius usus legis), however, almost always refers to the normative use.

If you were to ask the average Reformed Christian to name the three uses of the law, there is a decent chance that the answer might be the moral, the civil, and the ceremonial. In short, some Christians confuse the threefold division of the law with the three uses of the law. The threefold division of the law has to do with the different kinds of laws that we find in the Mosaic covenant—namely, the moral law, the ceremonial law, and the civil law. The three uses of the law are something different. But before we get to that, let us briefly look at the threefold division of the law, commonly delineated as the moral law, the ceremonial law, and the civil law. This is necessary because the three uses pertain to only one of those divisions.
The moral law is contained in its most concise written form in the Ten Commandments, which concern our duties toward God and man. The ceremonial laws, such as those concerning the priests and the sacrifices, were typical ordinances that prefigured the person and work of Christ. These ceremonial laws are now abrogated since Christ offered the once-and-for-all sacrifice of Himself on the cross (see Heb. 7–10). Few today (outside certain strands of Messianic Judaism) argue for any continuing use of the ceremonial law, and even then, such arguments typically contend only for things such as the observation of Jewish festivals.
The civil law consists of those laws given to Israel as a unique political state (for example, the cities of refuge in Josh. 20:7–9). As the Westminster Confession of Faith explains, these laws “expired together with the state of that people, not obliging any other, now, further than the general equity thereof may require” (19.4). The civil law has expired because it had to do with Israel in its unique place under the Mosaic covenant. Within the Reformed churches, however, there are some who argue for a continuing use of the civil law that goes beyond the “general equity” mentioned in the Westminster Confession. Those who hold to the view known as theonomy have often argued for an essentially twofold division of the law rather than threefold. In this twofold division, the civil law is effectively a subset of the moral law. Proponents of theonomy argue that the civil law should be enforced by every nation on earth (with qualifications related to different times, places, and cultures). There are a number of serious problems with theonomy, but the most serious has always been a failure to come to grips with the absolute uniqueness of Old Testament Israel within redemptive history.
The ceremonial laws prefigured Christ and His work, and we are still able to learn much about Him by studying these laws even though they have been abrogated. Furthermore, we can still make use of the general equity of the civil law even though it has expired. To say that the ceremonial laws are abrogated and the civil law has expired is not to say that these laws are worthless. When we discuss the three uses of the law in a technical sense, however, it is important to understand that we are specifically talking about the three uses of the moral law. We are not discussing the ceremonial law, and we are not discussing the civil law.
What, then, are the three uses of the moral law? They are the political use, the pedagogical use, and the normative use. The first and second uses are found in a different order in some discussions. Some will speak of the political use first, while others will speak of the pedagogical use first. The third use of the law (Latin tertius usus legis), however, almost always refers to the normative use.
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The basic guidelines for interpreting Genesis 1–3 derive from Scripture itself. If we follow the guide of Scripture, we will read Genesis 1–3 with understanding. We will not have all our questions answered, because Genesis 1–3 does not say everything that could be said about the details of how God did things. Much remains mysterious.

ABSTRACT: The beginning of the book of Genesis is not, as some claim, a mythical or poetic account of creation. It is historical narrative, telling the same story that unfolds in the patriarchs, the exodus, and the establishment of Israel. And, being from God, it speaks truly. Modern readers may not learn everything they would like to know about creation from Genesis 1–3, but they will find everything they most need to know. They also will find an account of creation unlike anything outside the Bible. Compared to the creation myths of Israel’s neighbors, Genesis stands majestically alone.
How do we interpret Genesis 1–3 in a sound way? It is not so easy to find out just by listening to and reading modern interpreters. There are many voices, and they disagree with one another.
I have only one main piece of advice. We learn how to read Genesis 1–3 wisely in the same way that we learn to read the rest of the Bible wisely. And how is that? By taking to heart what the Bible itself says. Several aspects of biblical teaching need to be taken into account.
Let us begin with a foundational issue: the nature of God.
Who God Is

Does God exist? And what kind of God is he? Is he a God who can create the world, in the way that Genesis 1 describes? Is he the kind of God who could fashion the first woman from the rib of Adam, as Genesis 2:21–22 describes? Is he the kind of God who can speak in an audible voice from the top of Mount Sinai (Exodus 19:9–20:22; Deuteronomy 5:2–22)? Is he the kind of God who can multiple five loaves and two fish, so that they feed five thousand men (John 6)?
Most of elite culture in the modern Western world does not believe in a God like that. Rather, the culture is deeply influenced by philosophical materialism, which says that matter is the ultimate constituent of the world. If some kind of a god exists, he is not involved in the world in the way that the Bible describes. He is not a God who speaks or who works miracles.
In addition, some people are influenced by New Age mysticism. They believe in various kinds of spiritual influence. But their “god,” if they call it that, is an aspect of nature.
The issue of God is monumentally important. If God is not a God such as the Bible describes, then either the Bible is a lie or it has to be radically reinterpreted. And that is what people do. Much of the academic study of the Bible at major universities of the world takes place under the assumption that the way we read the Bible must harmonize with modern ideas about the world. Hence, this academic study corrupts the Bible. And then this corruption travels out into general culture.
But in fact, God exists — the same God that the Bible describes. Therefore, the elite people in Western culture are walking in the dark about God. It is the culture, not the Bible, that has to be radically reinterpreted. Genesis 1–3 is one text — a crucial text — that shows the massive difference between the Bible’s view of God and common modern Western views.
The first point, then, is that when we read the Bible, we need to reckon with who God is.
The Divine Authorship of the Bible

A second issue concerns the nature of the Bible. It is the word of God. It is what God says.
One principal reason for the diversity of readings of Genesis 1–3 is an underlying diversity of opinion about what kind of text the Bible is. Much of the academic study of Genesis takes place with the assumption that God is not the author of Genesis. In effect, academics deny the divine inspiration of the Bible. This denial follows directly from the prior assumption that God does not speak. According to modern Western thinking, either God does not exist, or he was not involved in the writing of Genesis in a special way. Or, if he was involved somehow, he deferred pretty much to the human author or authors. One way or another, these people discount divine meaning and search only for human meaning.
Clearly, the issue of divine authorship makes a difference in what meanings come out at the end, because a misjudgment about who the author is leads to a misjudgment about what he means. Or, according to some postmodern interpretive approaches, verbal texts and the readers who interact with texts float in a sea of meanings, more or less independent of either God or human authors. But this kind of multiplication of meanings is a mistake, because it discounts the unique authority of God to say what he means and to do so with unique authority.
So it is worthwhile asking whether the Bible teaches divine authorship. It does, in any number of places. Second Peter 1:21 says, “No prophecy was ever produced by the will of man, but men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit.” This verse affirms a role for human authors: “men spoke . . .” But it emphasizes that the more ultimate and decisive author is God: “men spoke from God”; and “they were carried along by the Holy Spirit.” Jesus himself affirms the divine authority of the Old Testament in a number of places and a number of ways (Matthew 5:17–20; 19:4–5; 26:54; John 10:35). Interested readers can consult any number of books by evangelical authors, showing how the Bible affirms its own divine authorship and authority (2 Timothy 3:16).
Since God is a God of truth (John 3:33), his word is truth (John 17:17). He can be trusted. The Bible can be trusted, because it is his word. That must be our attitude as we read Genesis 1–3 — and every other passage in the Bible.
So here, in the fact of divine authorship, we have a second central principle in interpreting the Bible. We read and study it with respect and trust, rather than distrust. Just as we must reinterpret modern Western culture in its view of God, so, for the same reason, we must avoid imitating the distrust that the culture has toward the Bible. We avoid also the human temptation to pick and choose the meanings that please our prior preferences, or picking and choosing to believe only those parts of the Bible that line up with our preferences. That picking and choosing makes sense only for people who have already rejected God.
The Genre of Genesis

Next, let us ask what kind of a book Genesis is. In accord with the richness of who God is, what God says in the Bible includes a variety of forms or genres of literature. God chooses a variety of ways of communicating, in order that we may absorb what he says and grow in communion with him in a variety of complementary ways. The book of Psalms, for example, is a collection of poetic songs and prayers. In the Gospels, we find sermons of Jesus (such as the Sermon on the Mount, Matthew 5–7), parables, records of miracles, records of healings, and the record of the crucifixion. The Bible has prophetic books like Isaiah that contain exhortations, recollections of God’s past dealings, and predictions about the future. There are historical books, such as 1–2 Kings, that have a record of past events in the history of Israel.
Each literary section of the Bible was crafted by God, as well as by the human author (2 Peter 1:21). It is exactly what God designed to say, not only in its contents, but also in all its details, including the features of genre. If we respect God, then we should take into account how he chooses to communicate. It would be a mistake, for example, if an interpreter were to treat Jesus’s parable of the lost sheep (Luke 15:3–7) as if it were a prosaic nonfictional account that is merely about one shepherd and one sheep. It is a fictional story with a spiritual point. The point is indicated at the end: “Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance” (Luke 15:7). Jesus also indicates near the beginning of the parable that it is hypothetical, rather than an actual case in real life: “. . . if he [the shepherd] has lost one of them [the sheep], . . .” (Luke 15:4).
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