The more we diminish the role of wisdom in our everyday life, the more inclined we are to unwittingly “delegate tasks that demand wisdom” to the internet, and the less healthy skepticism or suspicion we’ll have as we use it.  It is one thing for technology to quicken our typing ability or to optimize some industrial process, it is another thing to absolve us of thinking, reasoning, and relationship opportunities. 

Jurassic Park is easily my favorite movie of my early teen years.  It was the first scary movie my parents let me see.  The symphonic backdrop was awe inspiring, the acting was solid, and the fictitious story line was plausible and, distinctly rooted in real science.  The movie has never grown old on me.  It seems, at least in my own mind, that the church has entered our own Jurassic Park and I can faintly hear John Hammond uttering a warm welcome, with dramatic irony, “Welcome to Jurassic Park!”
Our dilemma might best be described by one of the greatest philosophers of all time, Dr. Ian Malcolm (yes, he’s also from Jurassic Park).  With a bit of foreshadowing and wise premonition, Malcolm, the naysayer of the park uttered these words before everything went off the rails at Jurassic Park.  He said, “I’ll tell you the problem with the [scientific] power that you’re using here.  It didn’t require any discipline to attain it…You didn’t earn the knowledge for yourselves so you don’t take any responsibility for it…your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, they didn’t stop to think whether they should.”
The internet is meant to be a thrilling, helpful, and revolutionary adventure like nothing we’ve ever experienced before; akin to the original Jurassic Park.  However, for God-fearing men and women, the internet has become an inescapable death trap, the bleaker version of the park with the T-rex and the velociraptors on the loose.  It’s not hard to understand why; the endless stream of information and experiences provided by the internet do not require any discipline to attain, are free and unearned, and because of the decentralized nature of the internet,  there is no good authority asking whether things should be done, only producers and consumers asking  whether things could be done.  The result, as Malcom points out, is inevitable catastrophe.
The Problem with the internet is simple: It’s easy. Too easy.  As Teddy Roosevelt put it, “Nothing in the world is worth having or worth doing unless it means effort, pain, difficulty.”  There’s something to be said about the correlation between lasting value and effort and this concept demonstrates perfectly the problem with the internet.  The internet promises (and seemingly provides) things that are naturally very hard or impossible to obtain, with the quick click of a button.  Consider the sexual pleasure that the internet markets to us.  This is epitomized by pornography, but it is much broader than this and includes all its corollaries; tabloids, forums, pop-up ads, spam emails, meaningless eye-grabbing articles about lingerie or sex scandals or some strange seductive secret. The internet has identified and freely offered a significant part of the beauty of marriage, with no strings attached and disconnects sex from the life-long process of marital intimacy.  The pitch is simple: in 30 seconds anyone and everyone can experience instant gratification.  It’s too easy.
Consider the nature of social media.  A platform that eliminates the need to meet new people, that abbreviates hard conversations into posts and likes, and that allows like-minded people to self-segregate themselves into echo chambers by interests or political affiliations. It sounds amazing, I know.  If not for one problem, it’s too easy.  Real relationships with real people develop over time, forged or tested in the best and usually the worst of times.  Compassion, empathy, comradery, and shared story are formed through daily experiences.  The internet short circuits the whole process.  Instead of growing to know a person, their history, family, beliefs, and convictions and then wrestling with them through challenging subjects, we pronounce our opinions in one-line-zingers and we feel a prideful confidence in our bold opinions.  Truly being in relationship with others means that we’re always having to measure the relational collateral we have and the cost of pressing upon a hard issue.
And this is not to mention the impact the internet has on our perception of truth, its ability to mold us into consumers, or its impact on our capacity to think and formulate opinions on our own.  The beauty of the internet is also its greatest problem: it is designed to relieve the critical work of the mind by allowing it to freely and easily receive and store information without having to do the hard work of evaluating and critiquing what it hears and sees.  The internet blunts our power of discernment, and we begin to believe whatever it tells us.  In much the same way a powerful drug or drunkenness does, it offers an escape from the rigorous processes of life and markets limitless potential at no obvious cost to us.  It’s easy.  Too easy.
Through the internet, churches are being divided by each new social issue, destroyed by pervasive access to junk information and junk idolatry, and afforded ample opportunity to back-bite and gossip through each new social media platform.  And, as each year passes these things are being handed down to the next generation as normative tools that are easily compatible with Christian living.
On the one hand, Scripture tells us that the human heart is the problem and not the things outside of us (Mark 7:15).  It’s an important observation that keeps us away from legalism.  However, as Tony Reinke points out, referencing the historian Melvin Kransberg on a recent Mortification of Spin podcast, “Technology is neither good, nor bad, nor neutral.”  Affirming the wickedness and the deception of the heart should not prevent us from evaluating the things around us that move us toward or away from righteousness, holiness, and God Himself.  The internet is technically amoral, it is neither good nor bad.  It is just a collection of codes and algorithms.  But can we honestly say that it is neutral?  Does it feel neutral to you?  Has the easy availability of pornography been a neutral development?  Has the spread of disinformation or the watering down of friendships and relationships through social media been a neutral development?  Has the dulling of our reasoning and critical thinking been a neutral development?  I’ll let you answer these questions for yourself.
The Answer is maybe as simple as the problem and it’s all about wisdom.  I first spent time thinking about the inverse relationship between wisdom and technology while reading Nicholas Carr’s “The Shallows.”  Carr, an expert in the relationship between technology and psychology says, “The great danger…is that we’ll begin to lose our humanness, to sacrifice the very qualities that separate us from machines.  The only way to avoid that fate…is to have the self-awareness and the courage to refuse to delegate to computers the most human of our mental activities and intellectual pursuits, particularly ‘tasks that demand wisdom.’”  Curiously, this got me thinking, “What are the tasks that demand wisdom?”  And more importantly, “Is there such a thing as a task that does not demand wisdom?”  From a biblical perspective the answers to these questions are pretty clear: all of life requires some degree of wisdom.  Thus we read, “The teaching of the wise is a fountain of life, that one may turn away from the snares of death” (Proverbs 13:14). Or as the preacher put it, “A man’s wisdom makes his face shine” (Ecclesiastes 8:1).
Everything we do requires wisdom.  Everything.  And, while wisdom is a gift from God it is also a curated development of character.  That is, it ordinarily takes time and experience to develop deep meaningful wisdom.  This is why Job will describe wisdom as being something found by the aged and learned (Job 12:12), or James will connect wisdom in James 1:5 with the long and arduous process of trials and testing in James 1:2-4.  It is also why we are told that wisdom is costly, and yet that we should pursue it at all costs (Proverbs 4:7), and why discipline, correction, and training are so closely tied together with wisdom (Proverbs 29:15).  Wisdom is associated with things like patience, endurance, suffering, fortitude, and perseverance while the internet is associated with things like results, ease, immediacy, promptness, and instant gratification.
The more we diminish the role of wisdom in our everyday life, the more inclined we are to unwittingly “delegate tasks that demand wisdom” to the internet, and the less healthy skepticism or suspicion we’ll have as we use it.  It is one thing for technology to quicken our typing ability or to optimize some industrial process, it is another thing to absolve us of thinking, reasoning, and relationship opportunities.  Because these are the processes in which wisdom develops, the internet gives us the illusion of having wisdom (with all knowledge at our fingertips) while simultaneously stripping us of the real, genuine wisdom we actually need. Since both the fruit of the Spirit and many basic human characteristics are governed by wisdom and cultivated in the basic activities of life, the easy and immediate nature of the internet slowly and methodically dulls these qualities.  And so, through the eroding of wisdom, we see the cornucopia of problems described above.
What’s the answer?  I would propose the church’s hope to endure the internet age begins and ends with wisdom.  We need more wisdom.  We need to want more wisdom.  We need more preaching on wisdom from pulpits on Sunday mornings.  We need more wise discussion and correction in our homes and at dinner tables.  We must spend more time in the wisdom literature of Scripture and meditate upon it every chance we are able.  And, when it comes to entrusting ourselves or our children with the internet, we have to remember that the internet is not neutral.  It can be useful but it also can be (and according to the statistics, likely will be) dangerous for us and a hindrance to our sanctification.
We should measure our ability to safely use and maintain such a risky tool through the window of wisdom.  Do we have enough wisdom to surf the web?  Can we exercise enough wise restraint to be able to browse the internet on our phones?  Does maintaining a social media presence increase our wisdom or does it fuel discontent, division, and angst?  How can we wisely discern the flow of information available on the internet and validate its truthfulness and goodness?  Do our children have the wisdom they need to have access to the internet in any capacity and what are we doing to defend them from the subtle seductions, ideologies, and patterns of thinking imputed through the internet?  And finally, how are we exercising and pursuing godly wisdom to prepare ourselves for the temptations and stumbling blocks that we will inevitably encounter on the internet?  The more I read and the more destruction I see being facilitated by the internet, the more I am convinced the answers to these questions are a lot more restrictive and inhibitive than we suspect.  We must hold ourselves to a higher standard.  Because when everything is said and done, as we’ve learned from all the Jurassic movies, there’s only one sure way to endure Jurassic Park: never to go in the first place.
Bryan Rigg is a Minister in the Presbyterian Church in America and is pastor of Mercy PCA in Lynchburg, VA.
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This apocalyptic Christmas narrative reorients our understanding of the season. It’s a reminder that the peace, joy, and goodwill come through death, war, and dominion. Theses are not just sentimental ideals but realities grounded in the triumph of Christ over the powers of darkness.

Introduction
When we think about Christmas, our minds often conjure images of serene tranquility: a sleeping babe swaddled in linen, nestled in a manger under a starlit sky, surrounded by gentle animals lowing. We envision angels strumming golden harps, their melodies echoing sweetly with promises of peace on earth and goodwill toward men, heralding the birth of heaven’s all-gracious King. However, a starkly different, yet equally significant, portrayal of the Christmas narrative unfolds in the book of Revelation. Here, instead of peaceful stillness, we encounter a dramatic scene with dragons, falling stars, and a celestial war centered around a particular child. This apocalyptic vision of Christmas, far from the traditional manger scene, challenges us to expand our understanding of what Christmas means and how to apply its incredible and profound implications.
With that, let us explore the apocalyptic Christmas from Revelation 12 and discover what it teaches us.
A great sign appeared in heaven: a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars; she was with child, crying out in labor and pain to give birth. Then another sign appeared in heaven: behold, a great red dragon with seven heads and ten horns, and on his heads were seven diadems. His tail swept away a third of the stars of heaven and threw them to the earth. The dragon stood before the woman who was about to give birth, so that when she gave birth he might devour her child. And she gave birth to a son, a male child, who is to rule all the nations with a rod of iron; her child was caught up to God and to His throne.Revelation 12:1-5
Examining the Characters
Now…For a moment I want to examine the characters in this scene, look at who they are, what they represent, so that we can understand what is going on. On the surface, the meaning if obvious…This passage is clearly talking about Jesus. He is the male child born to the woman and delivered to us on Christmas Day. He is the King who ascended into heaven after His resurrection as Revelation 12 alludes. But…This passage also presents the familiar scene to us in a very different sort of way…The book of Revelation does not present these events in the material realm like all of the other Christmas passages, which are set in our world, where men and women observed events in space and time…with stables, innkeepers, cities, stars, and wise men. With gifts like gold, frankincense, and myrrh that could be held in the hands. And where the holy family needed to flee from the threats of the maniac Idumean named Herod to a material country and place called Egypt.
Yet, Revelation tells the Christmas story, it seems, in an entirely different dimension. Instead of communicating events in the physical world, it portrays them in the spiritual, cosmic, and apocalyptic realm, which means that is we are going to understand them, we must careful to examine them in their proper setting, identifying what each of the characters in the dram represent and mean.
The Woman: Israel and the Church in Transition
The passage from Revelation 12 introduces us first to a woman “clothed with the sun,” which is a beautiful portrayal of a holy female, set apart by God and enveloped with God’s dazzling creative light. Now…This is not just any female…Many might want to attribute the woman from Revelation 12 to Mary, the physical mother of Christ, but this is not her. The imagery in our passage allows for only one interpretation of this woman’s identity: it is not Mary, but is instead faithful Israel.
Remember, faithful Israel was God’s Old Testament bride (Isaiah 54:5-6) as she is cast in feminine terms. But, since the church is the Israel of God, God’s bride is also the New Testament Church (Ephesians 5:25-27), who was grafted into Israel by the working of Christ (Romans 11:17-24). She, the faithful people of God, is the one whose maker is her husband (Isaiah 54:5) and who in the Old Testament was promised to be restored from her covenant unfaithfulness in the new covenant coming in Christ (Hosea 2:19-20; Jeremiah 31:31-34). At every turn, Israel, the people of God (Past, Present, and Future) are compared to a woman, which is why Revelation describes her this way. She, and by that, I mean the people of God, is the one covered in light through her relationship with Yahweh (Numbers 6:24-26) where He says that He will shine on her and make her shine like a radiant light to all the nations (Isaiah 49:6).
Thus, when we see in Revelation, a shining woman clothed with the sun, we should immediately recognize her as symbolic of God’s bride, the people of God in both Testaments.
Our suspicions are further confirmed when we see that the moon is under her feet and that she is crowned with 12 stars, which is directly alluding to Joseph’s dream in Genesis 37:9. As you will remember, Joseph dreamed that the sun (representing his father, Jacob), the moon (his father’s wives), and the 11 stars ( all of his brothers) would all bow down to him and serve him in the future. And because of this dream, Joseph’s brothers become furious at him, selling him into slavery to a midianite caravan, which left him in Egypt, falsely accused by Potiphar’s wife, seeking out a living in prison, all before God elevated him to the position of second in command in Pharaoh’s empire. In this way, he was positioned at just the right place, to deliver his family from a massive famine in Egypt, making the dream true. His father and wives, along with his brothers (all of the people of Israel) bowed down and served Him.
Now, what is pertinent in Joseph’s dream to the description of the woman in Revelation, is that she is depicted with the sun, moon, and stars, which in Joseph’s dream applied to the entire people of Israel. Knowing this, it is especially clear that she is the embodiment of the true covenant Israel that Joseph dreamed about all those years ago. She represents the people of God, who are called the bride in the Old Covenant, but also in the New Covenant. We know this because this passage is not just a reference to a bygone Israelite era but a vibrant, living link that connects the ancient people of God, represented by the twelve tribes, to the unfolding narrative of salvation history in the New Testament. This woman is God’s bride who brought forth the man child messiah, but she is also the bride of Christ, who while persecuted will follow her Lord to victory. We see that as the passage develops (Revelation 12:13-17; 19:7).
We see this unfolding by the woman’s condition, as she is besieged by labor pains, which is more than a mere depiction of her physical anguish. This pain encapsulates, not only the long travail of Israel until the messiah was born, but also the tumultuous journey of the early Church, marred by struggles and persecution, especially under the harsh rule of the Roman Empire. These pains are not just symbolic of her suffering; they are indicative of birth, of new birth, of something new and transformative emerging from the throes of the old. Which is why this woman is the perfect picture. She is the Israel by which the Messiah was born…From her very womb. And she is also the bride of Christ who was birthed by His ascension into heaven. That event, began the shift from the Old to the New Covenant, a pivotal moment in the redemption where the Law and Prophets find fulfillment in Christ and where all the types and shadows of the Old Covenant fade away to make room for what they pointed to all along…Him.
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Written by Michael F. Bird |
Tuesday, February 27, 2024
The Parable of the Prodigal Son is striking in how it exemplifies Jesus’ overall mission and message. For Williams, Jesus was more than a religious talent and literary master. His teaching was part of a messianic career, climaxing in his death and resurrection, a career that was part of the story of God’s plan to create and renew the world. As Williams suggests, Jesus’ genius if rooted in both his identity and his origin: he came from God and he is God. 

It’s wrong to reduce Jesus to a moral teacher or mere philosopher. Jesus was not a wordsmith selling word salads, nor a crank peddling new ideas, nor a sophist showing off his rhetorical verve, nor an intellectual establishing his own academy à la Plato. Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, even “Immanuel.” Be that as it may, while Jesus is more than a teacher, he is certainly no less than one, and his teaching remains poignant, powerful, and challenging even today. This is where The Surprising Genius of Genius: What the Gospels Reveal About the Greatest Teacher by Peter J. Williams comes in. Williams’ thesis is that Jesus is just as much a genius as Aristotle, Mozart, or Einstein. Jesus’ teaching contains “impressive factual knowledge” along with an “impressive depth of insight, coherence, and simplicity.” For Williams, the Christian revolution that rocked the Roman world and birthed western civilization goes back to the “genius” of Jesus.
Williams takes as Exhibit A Jesus’ Parable of the Prodigal Son found in Luke 15:11–32. The genius of Jesus is evident, claims Williams, by virtue of three things found here. First, the sheer cleverness of the parable itself. It’s the third of three parables about lost things: lost sheep, a lost coin, and then a lost son. These parables serve to defend why Jesus dines with the “deplorables,” sinners, and tax collectors, much to the consternation and disapproval of the Pharisees and scribes. Williams points out that the story is both brief and beautiful, creates tension, and mentions family, a farm, famine, pigs, poverty, and a fattened calf. The ingratitude and indulgence of the younger son makes us angry; we’re then shocked and surprised by the mercy of his father, and even sympathetic to the anger and jealousy of the older son. Yet, as Williams notes, the story is not really about the prodigal but about the older son, because he, just like the Pharisees and scribes, refuses to join the celebration that someone lost has been found, as in Jesus’ fellowship with sinners. The lost son’s redemption is not the main point; he is but a prop to show the hard-heartedness of Jesus’ critics, who think they possess “a greater share of God’s favor”—a brilliant narrative bait and switch.
Second, the parable alludes to and echoes various Old Testament stories. Jesus was no trained scribe, but he was able to weave in allusions and echoes of the Old Testament in ways that might have impressed even the “experts.” In particular, Jesus’ parable rehearses many themes and key motifs from the Book of Genesis. To begin with, there are a number of OT characters who had two sons, most notably Isaac (Esau and Jacob).
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