Spurgeon Calling

The popular Jesus Calling devotional by Sarah Young is often criticized for being written from the perspective of Jesus himself. The author’s words are presented in the devotional as the Lord’s personal words to the reader, and this gets some people bent out of shape. To them, it seems principially inappropriate for non-inspired human words to be presented as God’s words.

But regardless of the merits of the criticism, I wonder if those who disparage Jesus Calling for this reason would stand ready to equally criticize Charles Spurgeon, who occasionally employed the same stylistic device. For example, in his morning devotion of January 16, Spurgeon writes the following paragraph, presented as God’s words to the reader:

It is but a small thing for me, thy God, to help thee. Consider what I have done already. What! not help thee? Why, I bought thee with my blood. What! not help thee? I have died for thee; and if I have done the greater, will I not do the less? Help thee! It is the least thing I will ever do for thee; I have done more, and will do more. Before the world began I chose thee. I made the covenant for thee. I laid aside my glory and became a man for thee; I gave up my life for thee; and if I did all this, I will surely help thee now. In helping thee, I am giving thee what I have bought for thee already. If thou hadst need of a thousand times as much help, I would give it thee; thou requirest little compared with what I am ready to give. ’Tis much for thee to need, but it is nothing for me to bestow. “Help thee?” Fear not! If there were an ant at the door of thy granary asking for help, it would not ruin thee to give him a handful of thy wheat; and thou art nothing but a tiny insect at the door of my all-sufficiency.

As another example, take the famous hymn “How Firm a Foundation.” This is a classic song, probably well-loved by the sorts of people who criticize Jesus Calling. And yet it’s written by a non-inspired man, and presented as God’s words to the hearer.

Fear not, I am with thee, O be not dismayed,
For I am thy God and will still give thee aid;
I’ll strengthen and help thee, and cause thee to stand
Upheld by My righteous, omnipotent hand. 

When through the deep waters I call thee to go,
The rivers of woe shall not thee overflow;
For I will be with thee, thy troubles to bless,
And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress. 

The soul that on Jesus has leaned for repose,
I will not, I will not desert to its foes;
That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake,
I’ll never, no never, no never forsake.

This isn’t an endorsement of Jesus Calling by any means. I haven’t read the book. My only point here is that if we’re going to be principially opposed to the stylistic device of presenting non-inspired human words as God’s words, then we ought to be opposed to it across the board, regardless of who’s doing it.

Peter Jackson’s Fan-Fiction

I wrote out some thoughts in a Facebook discussion about some of the problems with Peter Jackson’s Hobbit trilogy.
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I understand that it’s fantasy, but even a fantasy world needs to be properly “tuned” to itself. Sure, Middle-earth is a magical place, but gravity has always worked there. We shouldn’t be seeing a physics-defying escape from Goblin-town. We shouldn’t be seeing Bilbo fall down a massive chasm with no real harm to speak of. We shouldn’t be seeing Legolas bouncing along atop dwarf heads, or running up a staircase of falling stones. (In fact, we shouldn’t be seeing Legolas at all.) These sorts of shenanigans don’t belong in the world that Tolkien created. You don’t read anything like this in the book.

Moreover, the book is not filled with virtually non-stop action. The book is conservatively paced. But Jackson’s retelling wears the viewer out with one epic action sequence after another. And this sort of overused action makes for a boring movie. If everything is epic, nothing is epic.

I’m not saying that book-movies must follow the narrative of the book line-by-line in every detail. But I do think watching the movie should at least feel very similar to reading the book. It should feel like the same story.

Which is a huge part of what’s wrong with the Hobbit movies. They don’t feel like the same story. They feel wildly different. They’re bloated with what basically amounts to fan fiction. Stuff that Jackson and his writers made up out of their head. Stuff that they felt would make the story better. Characters who shouldn’t be there. Plot lines that shouldn’t be there. These don’t add to the story. What they do is make it feel like a completely different story.

Jackson wastes too much time trying to make me care about characters and sub-plots that are entirely foreign to the original story. But I wanted to see The Hobbit. I’m not interested in Jackson’s fan-fictional elf-dwarf romance sub-plot. There are internet sites for that sort of stuff.

Baptizo Battle

I recently had some interaction concerning modes of baptism at the blog of a fellow named James Attebury. I figured I would re-post my comments here.

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Hi, James. Thanks for the interaction at Denny Burk’s blog. Here are some of my thoughts on what you’ve presented here. I’ve limited myself to responding only to things related to the mode of baptism. I agree wholeheartedly with much of what you said regarding the meaning of baptism, specifically as an act of repentance. Spot on. Very well articulated. Personally, I think 1 Pet. 3:21 is one of the strongest credobaptistic texts in Scripture. Though I do get the impression that you are far less comfortable with child baptism than I am. In any case . . .

The term ‘baptism’ comes from the Greek baptizo which means “to dip” or “to immerse.” There is no disagreement among reputable Greek scholars on this.

This is the kind of just-take-my-word-for-it approach that is so common amongst immersionists. You could at least mention a few names. Is Strong not a reputable scholar? He gave this sense: “to make whelmed (i.e. fully wet).” Is Thayer not a reputable scholar? He gave these senses: “to wash, to make clean with water” and metaphorically “to overwhelm.” Is J. W. Dale not a reputable scholar? His analysis of baptizo is the most exhaustive I’ve ever seen, and he emphatically disagrees with the immersionist position. Do bapto and baptizo very frequently denote dipping or immersion? Yes. But that isn’t the only thing the terms can denote (as I’ve labored to show in my own article: http://bit.ly/1ra08eh).

You will not find a single Greek lexicon that defends “to pour” or “to sprinkle” as an acceptable translation of the term.

Because that would be a much too specific way to define or translate a term as general as baptizo. Nevertheless, there are clear instances where baptizo and its related words are used to refer to washings that are conducted via pouring or sprinkling. I mention a good number in my article, but I’ll reproduce a few examples here:

– The Septuagint uses bapto to describe Nebuchadnezzar’s being “bathed in the dew of heaven” (Dan. 5:21).
– The author of Sirach refers to the cleansing rituals of Numbers 19 (i.e. sprinklings) as baptisms (Sirach 34:20).
– The Noahic flood waters are described as a type of baptism (1 Pet. 3:20-21).
– The author of Hebrews describes various levitical sprinklings as baptisms (Heb. 9:9-14).

Now, none of this means that lexicons should start including “to pour” or “to sprinkle” as additional definitions of baptizo, because the sense of “washing” covers everything just fine; as long as we understand that the washings denoted by the bapto word group were very often conducted via modes other than immersion.

Even if we had no idea what “baptism” means, “to pour” or “to sprinkle” are impossible meanings here. Those who are being baptized are the subject of the verb. A person cannot be divided into parts or poured out like water can. Only a liquid can be sprinkled or poured, but a person can be immersed.

I think you’re confused about how the active and passive voices work. First off, those who are baptized are the object of the verb, not the subject. Now, baptizo often occurs in a passive form, in which case the subject is also the object. That’s how the passive voice works. When Acts records that the Philippian jailor “was baptized” (Acts 16:33), baptizo is in a passive form, which means that the jailor is both the subject and the object. (This does not mean he baptized himself.)

But when John says “I baptize you with water” (Matt 3:11), baptizo is in an active form, which means that John is the subject of the verb while “you” is the object. Syntactically, it would be entirely reasonable for John to say “I sprinkle you with water,” or for Acts to say of the Philippian jailor, “he was sprinkled.” I’m not saying these statements should be translated this way. I’m just pointing out that the syntactical argument you’re making is nonsensical.

The Jordan river is the indirect object of the verb.

No, it isn’t. “In the Jordan” is a prepositional phrase that describes where John was baptizing. It is not an indirect object.

The preposition en or ‘in’ only makes sense with immersion. Bible translation committees mistranslate en in Matthew 3:11 as ‘with’ because if it is accurately translated as ‘in water’ then this would exclude baptism by pouring and therefore not sell as many copies (Bible translations must be denominationally neutral).

This is way overblown. Prepositions are just diverse in the ideas they convey. That’s all there is to it. There’s no conspiracy here. I addressed arguments from prepositions in my article (footnote 16), but I’ll reproduce it here:

“Prepositions can and often do take a variety of different meanings. En frequently denotes instrumentality: “Shall I come to you with [en] a rod” (1 Cor. 4:21); “Greet one another with [en] a holy kiss” (1 Cor. 16:20); “God . . . comforted us by [en] the coming of Titus” (2 Cor. 7:6). . . . It was for good reasons that my Greek professor often warned against theologizing from prepositions.”

If baptizo can mean “to pour” we could translate the Bible like this: ‘were being poured by him in the river Jordan’ (Mark 1:5).

The weirdness is only due to the nature of the English verb pour. An additional helping word is required in order to convey it passively. You would just say “being poured upon by him.” The verb sprinkle, on the other hand, would not require an additional helping word: “being sprinkled by him.” These are just English quirks. It has no bearing whatsoever on the Greek verb baptizo.

It is not the “removal of dirt from the body” – the physical action of being immersed in water (how does pouring a little water remove dirt from the body?) . . .

1. Who said it has to be a little water? A profuse pouring could remove just as much dirt as an immersion. Don’t force immersion into the text. Just take “baptism” here in the more general sense of washing. Washing can be achieved in various ways.

2. You’re not giving adequate space for symbolism in the ordinance. Sprinkling a small amount of water may not amount to a literal baptism, but it does sufficiently represent one. The same applies to the way we commonly practice the Lord’s supper. A bite of bread and a shot of grape juice does not amount to a literal supper, but it does sufficiently represent one.

Hope this is helpful.

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Postscript: I said the passive voice means that the subject is also the object, but that may be an inaccurate or confusing way to put it. A better way to describe it is that the subject receives or undergoes the action of the verb.

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Hey, James. This will likely be my last rejoinder. I’m happy to give you the final word from here. Thanks for the discussion.

The reason why they practiced pouring is because they had no knowledge of Greek and just followed established custom.

Can you demonstrate that the Anabaptists had no knowledge of Greek? Also, the Anabaptists were radical reformers. What makes you think they were inclined to just follow custom?

The Greek Orthodox who practice infant baptism always use immersion because they know Greek.

This is overblown. Lots of people in my camp know Greek, and plenty of Greek Orthodox don’t know Greek any better than you and I. Besides, the Greek Orthodox are ultra-traditional, so if anyone’s inclined to “just follow custom,” it’s them.

For example, take a look at this little epistle by an 18th century Orthodox Archbishop: http://orthodoxinfo.com/ecumenism/pouring.aspx. Compare how much space he devotes to making the sort of lexical arguments you make with the amount of space he devotes to establishing immersion on the basis of tradition. Here was an Archbishop who gave no indication of knowing Greek any better than your average seminary student.

If your understanding of baptism is correct, then you are the first person to have a correct understanding of baptism since the Anabaptists.

First, there have always been credobaptists who hold my view. Sure, they’re not as common as immersionist credobaptists anymore, but they’ve always been around. Yet even if your assertion were correct, so what? I could attribute the same kind of absurdity to your own camp. If the immersionist understanding of baptism is correct, then immersionists were the first Christians to have a correct understanding of baptism since the patristic era.

The two beliefs don’t go together because baptism pictures our death and burial with Christ (Rom 6:3-5). If baptism is not regenerative, then infants have not been buried and raised with Christ.

And the same sort of argument can be made with respect to other modes. Sprinkling pictures the cleansing of sins by the blood of Christ, which is a spiritual blessing that infants presumably have not yet received. Likewise, effusion pictures the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, which is another spiritual blessing that infants presumably have not yet received. Pouring and sprinkling are just as friendly to credobaptism as immersion.

Hence this is why immersion was the way baptism was practiced in the first century (Acts 8:36-39).

There is nothing in Acts 8:36-39 that proves the eunuch was immersed. He could have been, but it’s not clearly stated.

This is an exaggerated use of the term bapto to describe Nebuchadnezzar’s entire body being covered by water as he slept on the ground. Pouring or sprinkling are impossible meanings here since his entire body was wet because of condensation whereas ‘baptism’ by pouring only wets part of the body.

1. If anything is an impossible meaning here, it’s immersion. No translation of the LXX that I’m aware of translates Dan. 5:21 with immersion language, because Nebuchadnezzar was not “dipped” or “immersed” in the dew of heaven. He was bathed in it. He was covered in it. He was bapto-ed in it. And in the phenomenology of the biblical authors, the dew would be conceived as falling down upon Nebuchadnezzar.

2. Pouring and sprinkling are perfectly capable of wetting the entire body. It happens every time I take a shower.

3. But I think your main problem is that you’re far too concerned about how much water gets on the body. You’re incredulous toward the idea that a simple pouring or sprinkling is sufficient to cleanse a person, but that’s only because you aren’t letting Scripture set your categories: “I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you shall be clean from all your uncleannesses” (Ez. 36:25).

4. You’re also not giving due place to symbolic representation. A simple pouring or sprinkling symbolizes a baptism just as well as a bite of bread and a shot of grape juice symbolize a supper.

The point is he was just as wet as if he had been immersed in water.

And here is a good example of the unfalsifiable nature of immersionism. No amount of counter-evidence can shake the immersionist’s lexical commitment. He will find a way to make immersion fit.

Advocates of the eclectic position, however, aren’t obligated to force anything. They’re perfectly comfortable acknowledging that some usages of the word denote immersion, while others don’t. Because they understand that the term is as general as the word wash. If someone wants to wash by sitting in a tub full of water, that’s one way to do it. If others want to wash by standing under an effusing shower head, that’s another way to do it.

The focus is on the effect of the condensation (being drenched), not how he got wet.

Which sounds strangely similar to something I said myself in the conclusion of the lexical section in my article: “The important part is the end result, and not so much how it got that way.” The word itself does not demand a specific mode.

Sirach 34:25 is describing the ritual immersion of Numbers 19:19. The person must “bathe himself in water” and this was done by immersion.

How do you know that the “bathings” of Numbers 19 were immersions?

Noah’s flood immersed the whole earth in water. The entire world was covered over with water and that is why it is a type of immersion.

Except Peter says that baptism corresponds to the safety that Noah and his family experienced inside the ark. Baptism does not correspond to the world’s experience of the flood, but to Noah’s.

Hebrews 9:10 is describing the ritual immersions in water mentioned in places like Lev 11:32; 14:9; 15:5-13; Num 19:7-8, 19. These are distinguished from the ritual sprinklings in 9:13 by the verb rantizo.

1. Again, I’m not sure how you know that the “bathings” mentioned in those texts were immersions.

2. You’re not following the logical flow of the passage. The baptisms of verse 10 are the sprinklings of verse 13. I spelled this out in my article, so I’ll just reproduce what I said:

“The old ceremonial system featured the sprinkling of the blood of goats, the blood of bulls, and the ashes of a heifer. Thus, various sprinklings are itemized, which correspond to the ‘various baptisms’ in verse 10. Additionally, these sprinklings are said to be administered for the purification of the flesh, which again mirrors the baptisms in verse 10, described there as ‘regulations for the body.’ In short, it is very difficult to get around the fact that the writer of Hebrews has no problem speaking of sprinklings as baptisms.”

The reason why Dale’s work needs to be 4 volumes long is because whereas Conant can just cite the occurrences of baptizo in Greek literature and let the evidence speak for itself, Dale has to engage in obfuscation to hold on to his traditions.

Well, I suppose your opinion is your opinion. And for what it’s worth, I actually don’t always agree with Dale myself. Sometimes it seems he wants baptizo to mean just one thing (which is a fault that immersionists are likewise guilty of). Be that as it may, of the recommendations you’ve given, so far I’ve read through Conant’s work, and here are some initial thoughts:

1. Before writing my article, I looked at a vast number of extrabiblical usages of the bapto word group using the Perseus Digital Library, and this was before I ever knew that old writers like Conant and Dale had already compiled them. So a lot of this is material I’ve already seen.

2. I don’t understand why writers like Conant insist that baptizo means “to immerse” while acknowledging that it can also mean “to whelm,” which is a verb that doesn’t require a specific mode.

3. Conant consistently chooses the translations that are friendly to his cause. But two can play that game. Here is an appendix I’m putting together that I plan to include in a future revision of my initial article: http://bit.ly/1sDNoxQ. I compile a number of instances where bapto and baptizo are used or rendered in ways that immersionists may find surprising. And it’s by no means an exhaustive list.

Church Discipline and Knuckleheaded Christians

Some comments on some statements in Tom Schreiner’s chapter, “The Biblical Basis for Church Discipline,” in Those Who Must Give Account: A Study of Church Membership and Church Discipline (Nashville: B&H, 2012).

“Treating the person disciplined as a Gentile or tax collector means that he is no longer considered to be a member of the church of Jesus Christ. He is no longer a part of the fellowship of believers. He is not considered to be a brother.”

1. I agree with this. But at the same time, it betrays the incoherence of something else that Baptists like to say on a separate occasion. I’m thinking of those Baptists who argue that people who have been baptized only in infancy should not be admitted as church members unless they first get baptized the right way, whose reasoning for this strict stance is that a paedobaptist’s admission into membership would have to be immediately followed by church discipline, since the paedobaptist is living in disobedience to Christ’s command to be baptized. They bar such people from membership and view it as a sort of preemptive church discipline. Excommunication applied in advance.

But in Scripture, church discipline is carried out only when the offense is of such a nature that sustained impenitence inevitably leads to the conclusion that the offender is actually not a true believer. “Let him be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector” (Matt. 18:15-17). And yet this is not the way that Baptists typically view paedobaptists. John Piper and Mark Dever, for example, have great respect for Ligon Duncan and Kevin DeYoung. They’re all brothers in Christ. They speak at conferences together. They recommend each other’s ministries.

So how does a Baptist withhold membership from paedobaptists in the name of preemptive church discipline, when Baptists by and large believe that paedobaptist convictions do not preclude someone from being a genuine and godly believer? Exercising church discipline on someone whose profession of faith you have no reason to doubt is incoherent.

2. Schreiner shoots himself in the foot later in the chapter by reading 2 Thessalonians 3:6-15 as an instance of church discipline, even though in that passage Paul speaks of the troublemaker as a brother: “Do not regard him as an enemy, but warn him as a brother” (3:15). My own view is that this passage is not an instance of church discipline or excommunication, but simply Paul’s instructions for how to deal with knuckleheaded Christians in the church. Sometimes even fellow believers can behave in ways that make their fellowship unprofitable. “Take note of that person, and have nothing to do with him, that he may be ashamed” (3:14).

Gender-Based Insults

Virtually every woman would be highly offended if she were told that she looks like a man. Similarly, when a man is told that he plays ball like a girl, he understands that it is not a compliment. But what makes these insults so insulting? Is there something wrong with looking like a man? Is there something wrong with playing ball like a girl? Well, that depends on whether you’re a man or a woman.

Women are naturally expected to be prettier than men, and they generally are. The average female is better looking than the average male. So when a woman is told that she looks like a man, she’s being told that her physical appearance is woefully below average for a woman.

On the other hand, men are naturally expected to exhibit greater physical strength and ability in things like sports, and they generally do. The average male is stronger than the average female. There aren’t any women in the NFL – not padded up and on the field anyway. So when a man is told that he plays ball like a girl, he’s being told that his athletic skills are woefully below average for a man.

Now just because women are typically better looking than men doesn’t mean that a man should be flattered if he’s told that he looks like a woman. Because that’s also unnatural. I was mistaken for a girl once, back when I had long hair and wore girl pants; and while I’m not sure I had any right to be surprised, I know that I didn’t take it as a compliment. I didn’t take it as an admission that my looks were exceedingly above average. Because a man should look like a man, and this is not a bad thing at all for a man. It’s a good thing.

And I imagine the same would apply in the case of a female athlete being told that she plays ball like a man. I doubt she would find this flattering, even if the intention were to compliment her athletic skills as exceedingly above average. Because a girl should play ball like a girl, and this is not a bad thing at all for a girl. It’s a good thing.

All of this to say, men and women are different. Which is why some insults are effective against males that are not effective against females, and vice versa. It isn’t natural or good for a woman to be manly or for a man to be womanly. And if we didn’t know this, then we wouldn’t find these gender-based insults so insulting.

Selectively Egalitarian

I know a woman who once punched her husband, nearly knocking him unconscious, during an argument over Christmas tree decorations early in their marriage. While I’m sure this woman isn’t proud of what she did, she and her husband nevertheless look back on the whole thing and laugh. And I doubt any serious person would contend that the woman should be locked up for such a thing.

Compare this with the public reaction to the Ray Rice debacle. Our culture’s outrage over Rice’s actions shows that deep down we all know egalitarianism isn’t really true. Men and women are different in ways far more significant than plumbing, and men have a God-given responsibility to sacrificially protect women as weaker vessels. Which is what makes Rice’s actions particularly reprehensible.

Consider some alternative scenarios. If it were a man knocking out another man, the story wouldn’t be getting all this air time. If it were a woman knocking out a man, the video might still go viral, but only because people are laughing at the poor guy. But when a man knocks out a woman, that crosses a uniquely significant moral line — one that even a godless society still recognizes. We’re only selectively egalitarian.

Not a Numbers Game

John Hammett, in Those Who Must Give an Account: A Study of Church Membership and Church Discipline, writes:

“At least 13 [usages of ekklesia] seem to refer clearly to the church in a universal sense, as encompassing all the redeemed of all the ages. . . . But the New Testament pattern of usage indicates that we should think of the church primarily in terms of a local, visible assembly, for that is how the word is overwhelmingly used.”

It seems like I hear this kind of argument a lot, but I’m not sure it really shakes out. This isn’t a numbers game. Just because ekklesia is most often used in Scripture to denote a local assembly, doesn’t necessarily mean we should think of the church primarily in local terms. I can understand why that might seem reasonable at first blush, and there may be an element of truth in there somewhere, but I think the argument misses something important.

Local churches are visible expressions of the universal church, which means that the universal nature of the church is logically prior to its local nature. In other words, the church is universal before it is local. Furthermore, the local church will eventually become obsolete and pass away, while the universal church remains for all time. Thus, the church should be understood primarily (i.e. in its most prime sense) as universal, rather than local.