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My mom had a sudden and massive heart attack in 2014. I never got to say goodbye. I never had the chance to tell her I loved her and to ask her to forgive me for all the times that I didn’t love her as I ought to have loved her. It was an extremely painful experience. Yet, in the face of extreme sorrow, the Lord graciously filled my mind with thoughts of eternity that I never had before.
We don’t have to be weighed down with perpetual regrets for not having loved believers as we ought to have loved them here and now.
One of those thoughts came on the ride to the cemetery. With anguish of heart my dad said, “I didn’t always love your Mom the way I should have. I know that I won’t be married to Mom in heaven, but I will love her perfectly for all eternity.” This, in turn, awakened thoughts in me that I’ve never had before. One of those thoughts was that Christ has purchased for believers not only forgiveness of sins and a perfect righteousness but also the prospect of loving other believers perfectly in glory for all of eternity.
In Charity and Its Fruits, Jonathan Edwards made the following observation about the way in which the love of God will be worked out perfectly in the saints so that we will love each other perfectly forever:
In every heart in heaven, love dwells and reigns. The heart of God is the original seat or subject of love. Divine love is in him…from God, love flows out toward all the inhabitants of heaven…the angels and saints all love each other. All the members of the glorious society of heaven are sincerely united. There is not a single secret or open enemy among them all. Not a heart is there that is not full of love, and not a solitary inhabitant that is not beloved by all the others. And as all are lovely, so all see each other’s loveliness with full complacence and delight. Every soul goes out in love to every other; and among all the blessed inhabitants, love is mutual, and full, and eternal.
This doesn’t mean that we get to shrug off our responsibility to love those around us now as God requires us to love them. Our Lord Jesus commanded us to love one another as he loved us (John 13:34). We should be zealous to love other believers with the same love with which we have been loved by Christ. We are to love believers now to the best of our ability by the grace of God. However, we don’t have to be weighed down with perpetual regrets for not having loved believers as we ought to have loved them here and now. Of course, we must go to the Lord for pardoning mercy and grace for the many times that we have failed in this respect. Additionally, we must strive to keep short accounts with each other in this life. Still, we know that we all fall miserably short of God’s standard of holiness and love in our relationships with one another.
Christ has purchased for us an eternity in which we will love each other as he has loved us.
We will never love as we ought to love in this life. This, in turn, should lead us to rest in what Christ has accomplished and purchased for us. Though we have failed to love believers with a perfect love, we will forever render to them what we know we owe them and what we sorrow over not having shown them more of in this life. Christ has purchased for us an eternity in which we will love each other as he has loved us—with a perfect and an everlasting love. If you are in Christ, be comforted by the fact that you have an eternity of love awaiting you in which you will love every other believer as you ought to have and as you wish you had loved them in this life.
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Blazing sunrises, gentle moonlit nights, lush forest paths, rocky arid beauty, bird song, leaf-fall, thunderous ocean waves, cascading waterfalls, gurgling mountain streams—these glorious beauties are the songs of nature. Each of these songs declares a theme, a message from God the King. He calls us to learn of him from nature and his Word. God has created a symphony for us: let's listen.
God the Composer
A composer is a person who writes music. It is his vision and foresight—his message—that is written down on paper for others to communicate. The composer is in control of what fundamentally must be played and how it should be played. Will this line be loud or soft? Will it be played forcefully or delicately? Will the music communicate joy, sorrow, anxiety, or strength?
God is a composer, too. He created the glorious, amazing, and beautiful world around us to communicate something about himself. The rhythm of the seasons, sounds of nature, colors, and smells are all part of his composition. Just as a composer communicates through his music, God communicates to us through his creation and Word. They both reveal something about him.
1. God Communicates Through His Creation
So what does creation say to you about God? Psalm 19 speaks of the creation being a witness to God’s glory: “The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky aboveproclaims his handiwork” (Ps. 19:1). And Job 38 stresses God’s power, wisdom, design, and care of his creation. The book of Romans declares,
For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them. For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made.” (Rom. 1:19-20)
Nature declares that God is magnificent, powerful, wise, and good. But creation is not the only way God reveals himself to us.
2. God Communicates by Means of the Written, Preached, and Visible Word
God also communicates to us by means of his Word. He uses the written and preached Word to communicate his message to his people (2 Tim. 3:16). Scripture is God’s written message (2 Pet. 1:20-21). It tells of God’s creation of man for a noble calling (Gen. 1:26-30); man’s rebellion and separation from God (Gen. 3:6-3:10); God’s plan to save man from judgment (Gen. 3:15); Christ’s sacrifice for his people’s sins (Phil. 2:8); God’s adoption of those who trust in Christ as his children (Eph.1:5); and God’s preparation of an eternal inheritance for his children (Eph. 1:11).
In historical and poetic writings, prophecy, and letters, God speaks to his people now through his written and preached Word. His words of restoration, blessing and comfort are found there.
God also proclaims his Word though visible signs and seals that are known as sacraments. One of the things the sacraments of baptism and the Lord’s Supper do is visibly proclaim the promise of forgiveness and salvation through Christ.
Because of this visible proclamation, sacraments are sometimes referred to as “the visible Word.” God not only speaks words of salvation and promise but also exhibits these truths though a meal and washing. So in the Scriptures and Sacraments, God is teaching that humans are sinful and that God saves through Jesus Christ. This Word tells us about the joy we have when we trust Jesus as our Savior—and thus know God as a loving Father and not as a Judge.
Soaking It All In
How do you feel when you listen to your favorite piece of music? Do you enjoy how the instruments and the vocals work together? Do you delight in the artistry and creativity as the music and the lyrics drive home a common message? Even if there are many different instruments the variety gives a depth, complexity and strength to the one message. So, too, is God’s symphony of revelation to us of himself through creation and the Word.
We have so much around us in creation that reveals God’s attributes: goodness, power, wisdom. Yet, he also has revealed himself and his love to his people in historical narrative, poetry, prophecy, letters, and the Sacraments. God's communication is multifaceted and provides a wonderful depth and beauty as we use all of God’s revelation to know him.
We learn about God in the beauties of creation, and even more about him in Scripture and the Sacraments. Just as we feast our ears on well-played music, we also can feast our hearts on God’s amazing symphony of creation and the written, preached, and visible Word. Soak it all in.
This article was originally published on November 10, 2017.
Disclosure: This post may contain affiliate links, meaning Beautiful Christian Life LLC may get a commission if you decide to make a purchase through its links, at no cost to you.
Prayer is an essential means by which we can commune (fellowship) with God—and not just God as an abstract being, but God as a personal Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Each member of the Trinity gives himself to us in the work of prayer. Indeed, prayer wouldn’t even be possible if not for the Trinity.
The New Testament makes it quite clear that the human act of prayer is intimately connected to the trinitarian actions of God and is in fact enfolded and subsumed within that larger divine action.[1]
We wouldn’t even pray at all if it were not for the Spirit.
Thus, in Romans 8:26 Paul declares that the Spirit intercedes for believers in their weakness, when they do not know what they should pray for. Even more fundamentally, we wouldn’t even pray at all if it were not for the Spirit. Prayer is a discourse not simply between us as creatures and God as our creator. Prayer is a discourse between us as children and God as Father. And we would not be able to recognize God as our Father if it were not for the Spirit:
For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God. (Rom. 8:15–16)
So the Spirit enables us to pray and also brings our weak prayers in a perfected form to the other great Intercessor, the Son of God:
Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. (Rom. 8:34)
The righteous Son has access to the throne of the Father.
In Romans 8 both the Spirit and the Son are called intercessors—they are nonexpendable in the work of our intercession (or prayer). And this by necessity requires the Father, too. To whom else are they interceding, after all? In prayer the Spirit perfects our requests, petitions, and praises and brings them to the Son, who in his authority as the righteous Son of God has access to the throne of the Father, where he makes our prayers his own. This is why we pray “in the name of Jesus”—his name is what grants us access to God. Otherwise we would be shut out on account of our sin and unrighteousness.
Again, Trueman is spot on when he says:
Practically speaking, therefore, a healthy, vibrant prayer life depends to a large extent upon a good understanding of trinitarian doctrine. Only then will we both understand what it is we are doing and have confidence that it will be effective and powerful. A correct doctrine of God as Trinity does not guarantee a healthy prayer life, but a defective doctrine of the Trinity guarantees a prayer life that will be much less than it should be.[2]
[1] Carl Trueman, “The Trinity and Prayer,” 222-240, from The Essential Trinity: New Testament Foundations and Practical Relevance (P & R Publishing, 2017), 225.
[2] Trueman, “The Trinity and Prayer,” 228.
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“Do not be deceived: God is not mocked, for whatever one sows, that will he also reap” (Gal. 6:7).
If people reap what they sow, why do we see so many instances where justice isn’t carried out in this world? The principle of karma has an answer for this dilemma: people will eventually be paid back with good or evil in future reincarnations for the deeds they have done in the past.
The Bible also has a response to the injustice we see around us: God will enact perfect justice, but it won’t come about until the end of this present age (Rev. 20:11–15).
The Bible refutes the idea of reincarnation.
The author of Hebrews declares,
It is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment.” (Heb. 9:27)
There is no evidence to be found in the Bible, or anywhere else for that matter, of dead people returning to the earth in a reincarnated form. Yes, there are various biblical accounts of people being raised from the dead, but with the single exception of Jesus, they all died again eventually—and stayed dead.
“Sowing and reaping” occurs to some extent in this world, but not always or perfectly.
Justice exists in this present age, although it is imperfect at best. Civil governments punish criminals for their wrongdoings. In some cases the punishment is too lenient; in other cases, it is too severe. The saying, “What goes around, comes around,” plays out in everyday life as well. If you are unkind to people, they probably won’t want to spend time with you. If you don’t get enough sleep or eat a proper diet, your health will likely suffer over the long term.
Still, inequities abound in the world, and we struggle to make sense of them. The wicked often prosper in this age (Jer. 12:1). Many people commit wrongs against others and themselves but appear to suffer no longterm consequences for their behavior. The author of Ecclesiastes declares,
In my vain life I have seen everything. There is a righteous man who perishes in his righteousness, and there is a wicked man who prolongs his life in his evildoing. (Eccles. 7:15)
The Bible explains why there is injustice in this world.
The Bible has a reasoned explanation for all this seeming lack of fairness: the world is filled with sin and misery due to humanity’s rebellion against God in the garden of Eden (Gen. 3). We all must live in a world that God originally made good but now bears the wretched effects of Adam’s fall. Yes, there is still goodness in life, but everything groans under the curse that will be lifted someday—but not yet:
[T]he creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. (Rom. 8:21)
The good news is that the sad circumstances of this fallen world won’t have the final say, because God has already reconciled the world to himself in Christ (2 Cor. 5:19).
The principle of karma burdens people with an unknown amount of effort throughout an unknown number of life cycles in order to attain a supposed state of bliss called nirvana. Yet, the Bible encourages us that the one true God will right all wrongs and bring about complete justice in his perfect timing.
Through faith in Jesus Christ, believers are justified, forgiven, and heirs to eternal life.
While unbelievers must one day stand before God based on their own works and bear their Creator’s just verdict for transgressing his laws, believers do not need to fear God’s final judgment. Because Christ has taken their punishment upon his own self, Christians can instead look forward to their vindication because God will judge them based upon the perfect righteousness of Christ that has been counted to them.
In the meantime, Jesus comforts his people in the midst of the inequities and trials of this present life:
“In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)
This article has been updated since its original publishing date.
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Have you ever wondered if you were beyond God’s mercy? Maybe you were given a host of opportunities in life, but you squandered them and are left with little or nothing to show for it. Maybe you hurt people and caused a lot of pain, and you can’t make it right. Will God forgive even you? Thankfully, God has given us the Bible so we can answer such crucial questions. We can learn a lot about God’s mercy by reading about King Saul in the first book of Samuel.
Saul wasn’t a king who struggled with idolatry; he always served the Lord. Yet, Saul was a king who just couldn’t bring himself to obey (1 Sam. 13:8-14; 15:1-10). He put himself and his own honor before obedience to the law. Even when the Lord told him that his reign was over, Saul clung to his throne with the iron grip of jealousy (1 Sam. 19).
In dying by his own hand, falling on his sword to avoid capture by the Philistines (1 Sam. 31:4), Saul attempted to spare himself from the curse of the uncircumcised. Ironically, his life ended depicting the classic consequence of sin. If there was ever a story demonstrating how “the wages of sin is death” (Rom. 6:23), this is one.
Quite literally, Saul died by his own sin, and this was God’s punishment. Saul failed to execute the Lord’s wrath upon the Amalekites, and so that wrath fell upon him. Like all sinners, Saul attempted to escape his fate and free himself from God’s punishment. He tried to save himself by his own hand.
There is no “self-salvation” from sin.
There is no escaping God and his punishment. Indeed, Saul thought falling on his sword would spare him the shame of being savagely abused by the Philistines, but it happened anyway. The next day when the Philistines came to strip the dead, they found Saul and desecrated his body, cut off his head, and stripped him of his royal armor—just as he feared. The Philistines did to Saul what David did to Goliath, and then the Philistines gloated about the evil they had perpetrated against Israel’s king.
The Philistines deposited Saul’s armor in the temple of Ashtaroth, the goddess of war. According to 1 Chronicles 10:10, Saul’s head was placed in the temple of Dagon. To deposit such trophies in a temple is to give credit to the temple’s god for the victory. The Philistines then proceeded to proclaim their triumph throughout the land, praising Ashtaroth and Dagon for their victory over Saul and Yahweh.
As a king, it is bad enough to have your people die for your own sins, but it is even worse to dishonor the holy name of the Lord. So, in his sin Saul gave the Philistines an occasion to gloat in their idols; he brought shame upon the name of God.
The Philistines took the headless bodies of Saul and his sons and nailed them to the wall of Beth Shan. They exposed Saul’s body to the elements—and to the scavengers and vultures. As the law says, “Cursed is everyone who is hanged on a tree” (Gal. 3:13; Deut. 21:23). This was not some victory of an idol but rather God’s just punishment. For his royal disobedience, the Lord’s curse fell upon Saul. Truly, “it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God” (Heb. 10:31). The day of the Lord’s judgment and wrath is a dark day.
This dark day is pierced by a ray of hope.
And yet, just as the shadow of wrath appears to be total, it is pierced by a ray of hope. Imagine seeing your king beheaded and nailed to a wall. What could be more despairing? Once again, Israel could cry out, “Ichabod!” (“The glory has departed from Israel!” [1 Sam. 4:21].) And yet, as all other Israelites ran away in hopelessness, a few good men stood up.
The valiant men of Jabesh-gilead rose to the occasion. These men remembered what Saul had done for them. In 1 Samuel 11, the Ammonites had besieged Jabesh-gilead and were going to enslave them cruelly. But then—in one of his few truly spotless acts—Saul marshaled Israel and became their savior, delivering his people from torture and slavery. So the men of Jabesh returned the favor. During the night, they stole the bodies of Saul and his sons and delivered them from exposure and further desecration.
Once they returned to Jabesh, the men burned the bodies, which is quite curious since cremation was not common practice in Israel. Of course, this wasn’t even proper cremation, since they saved the bones for burial. It is likely that—having been desecrated by the uncircumcised Philistines—the bodies were burned to purify them for burial.
Either way, the men of Jabesh intended it as an honor to Saul and his sons. For once they gathered their bones, the men buried them under a tamarisk tree, which is a sacred spot. The men of Jabesh honored Saul and his sons by giving him a holy burial fit for a king, suitable for a member of God’s covenant. In his life, Saul couldn’t keep himself from sin. In his death, the Lord punished him for his sins. But, in his burial, the mercy of God fell upon Saul.
Yes, this was a great mercy for Saul. He deserved to be left nailed to the wall, but mercifully, God granted him a burial in a holy spot with his sons. The account of Saul’s life—the story of a tragic sinner with a tragic, though fitting, end—still makes room before the credits roll for mercy to have the last word. On the day of judgment, mercy triumphed. In his death, Saul was forsaken by God; but in his burial, God granted Saul the sign of his mercy and favor.
We see God’s surpassing mercy in Christ in Saul’s burial.
Is this not an amazing picture of God’s surpassing mercy? One cannot but think of what Paul says in 1 Corinthians 3:10-15. There are some workmen in God’s kingdom who build with wood and stubble, so that on the last day their labors are burned up. Such people will suffer loss, though they themselves will be saved, but only as through fire. How the reign of Saul resembles this! His life and reign were marred by so much sin and folly, and yet in the end God’s mercy covered even him.
Saul reminds us of the thief on the cross—a man who lived a life of crime and wickedness. He was a criminal who was suffering the just consequences of his actions. Yet, even upon one like this thief, in the agony of his sin, Jesus smiled. The thief prayed in faith, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” And to this prayer of faith Jesus responded with the sweet words of mercy, “Today, you will be with me in paradise” (Luke 23:42-43).
We are no better than Saul.
This is the mercy of Christ. It is a mercy that reminds us that we too are sinners. Indeed, such mercy frees us to be honest—that we are no better than Saul. There is no sin, no matter how heinous, that is beyond us. But for the grace of God, there we go as well. We cannot save ourselves. In our sin we would all perish, falling under God’s wrath and curse forever.
Yet, in Christ mercy has triumphed. His mercy covers all your sins; his mercy forgives all your sins, every last one. And why can Christ’s mercy perform such wonders? How can he be so merciful? He can because Christ suffered the full punishment for your sin.
For his sin, Saul deserved to be nailed to the wall and exposed. Yet, isn’t this the very curse that Jesus suffered? Yes, as the righteous one, Jesus was nailed to the cursed tree. He was exposed to the reproach of God’s enemies. Jesus lived a perfect life, but in his death he willingly became like Saul. He bore in his own flesh the punishment for your sin, so that his mercy might cover all your sin. This is the surpassing glory of Christ’s mercy.
In Christ, the ending of your story has already been written.
You might be thinking, “I’m not as bad as Saul. I don’t need that much mercy.” Yes, we can wrongly think this at times. Yet, it isn’t just that we think we are too good. Another challenge to our faith is to think we are too bad—too unworthy, too far gone for mercy to reach us. We can fall into despair, fall prey to hopelessness, and be tempted to believe that Christ just can’t forgive this. But in Saul, we see the unending reach of Christ’s mercy. Even for the sin of suicide, God showed mercy to Saul.
Mercy triumphed over judgment for Saul, and so also for you. Through faith alone, you find forgiveness in the surpassing and sweet mercy of Jesus Christ who died for you. It is this lavish mercy that is your aid through the tragedies of life. Indeed, so many chapters of our lives have sad endings. Like Saul, falling on your sword may seem attractive in life’s most difficult moments.
But Christ’s mercy says, “Do not despair. Do not lose hope, for you have living hope in Christ, an imperishable and incorruptible hope.” May you rejoice in this hope, and may you embrace it in faith.
Every Christian has the sure hope of the forgiveness of sin and the resurrection. In Christ, the end of your story has already been written, and it is not a tragedy but rather the best of all endings—resurrection from the dead and a life everlasting to glorify God.
On the same day Saul died, another battle was being fought. David was rescuing his own from the Amalekites, and he did not lose one (1 Sam. 30:16-19). Likewise, Christ’s mercy keeps you safe and secure for the happy ending of his kingdom. May you find comfort and encouragement in the mercy of Christ and courageously serve him in faith until he comes again.
Disclosure: This post may contain affiliate links, meaning Beautiful Christian Life LLC may get a commission if you decide to make a purchase through its links, at no cost to you.
R. Scott Clark is professor of Church History and Historical Theology at Westminster Seminary California. For more content from Dr. Clark, please visit The Heidelblog atheidleblog.netandrscottclark.org.
Recently I received an email at The Heidelblog from a woman named Katie with the following question:
I'm getting a lot of stick from my guy friends. They say that I should always submit to their lead and that this is biblical. I tell them that male headship is specifically within the context of marriage, but they won't listen to me because I am female. It’s sort of a catch-22. Am I to submit to the lead of all males within the church?
There are two key passages regarding this subject. The first is 1 Timothy 2:8-15:
I desire then that in every place the men should pray, lifting holy hands without anger or quarreling; likewise also that women should adorn themselves in respectable apparel, with modesty and self-control, not with braided hair and gold or pearls or costly attire, but with what is proper for women who profess godliness—with good works. Let a woman learn quietly with all submissiveness. I do not permit a woman to teach or to exercise authority over a man; rather, she is to remain quiet. For Adam was formed first, then Eve; and Adam was not deceived, but the woman was deceived and became a transgressor. Yet she will be saved through childbearing—if they continue in faith and love and holiness, with self-control.
And then there is also Ephesians 5:21-25:
[S]ubmitting to one another out of reverence for Christ. Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife even as Christ is the head of the church, his body, and is himself its Savior. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit in everything to their husbands.Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her.
Knowing the context of a Scripture passage is critical to understanding the meaning of the text.
The context of both of these passages is ecclesiastical. In other words, these epistles were written to Christian congregations. They are not charters for every relationship in every sphere. Nor are they necessarily charters for every relationship within a given sphere. For example, Paul wasn't writing in the first instance to Roman civil authorities; nor was he speaking to how pagans ought to run their business enterprises.
Paul was instructing the visible, institutional church on how special officers (pastors, elders, and deacons) are distinct from general officers (laity—the people who are not ordained to special office) and how they are to relate to one another in general as well as in specific contexts.
In 1 Timothy 2 the context is very clearly about gathering for public worship, and so the instruction about submission here is still the abiding norm for God’s people in all times and in all places. Yet, it is intended to function within the gathering of the Christ-confessing covenant community for public worship. The second passage from Ephesians is generally about how members of Christian congregations and families ought to relate to one another.
There is a principle of headship in the family and the visible, institutional church.
Let's back up and get a broader view. Certainly, there is a principle of headship in the family and in the visible institutional church. When I say “church,” I don't mean any place where two Christians are at the same time; rather, I mean the visible, institutional, organized church. This principle of headship, however, may not be extended willy-nilly to any or all other relationships.
Paul's instruction on submission was not intended as a universal license for all men to require all women to submit to them. Nor was it intended as a license for all Christian men to require all Christian females to submit to them. Nor does it even require all Christian females in a given congregation to submit to all Christian males in a given congregation. To think this way confuses several necessary and important distinctions.
There is a distinction between the kingdom of God as manifested in the institutional church sphere and the civil sphere.
The first of these distinctions is between the kingdom of God as manifested in 1) the visible institutional church and 2) the civil (or common) kingdom that exists outside the visible institutional church.
Christ is Lord of both kingdoms (spheres), but he administers his kingdom (authority) differently in each kingdom (sphere). In the civil sphere, females may exercise authority in a way that they may not do in the ecclesiastical/spiritual kingdom (sphere). Females may own businesses and even rule kingdoms. Yet, in the spiritual sphere of the church, there are precise limits on the roles males and females may assume.
We may not however transpose those rules intended for the church to every other relationship outside the church. Thus, there is no ground for calling females to submit to males generally in the civil (common) sphere. Even in those areas where Paul's teaching is aimed at families that live simultaneously in both spheres, we should remember that his instruction is to Christian husbands and wives.
We deduce, however, that it applies to all husbands and all wives—believers and non-believers alike—that headship-submission relationship doesn't extend beyond familial relationships. Thus, the principle of submission does not respect gender or sex outside the family or the visible church. For example, males must submit to the magistrate whether that magistrate is male or female.
The principle of headship in the church must be applied and exercised carefully.
Even in the visible institutional church where Paul restricts the special offices of pastor, elder, and deacon to males, there is a distinction to be made between the submission we owe to officers and that which we owe to laity.
We all—male and female alike—must submit to church officers, but not every male in the church is a special officer. Furthermore, not every female in the church is the wife of every male—at least not in a rightly ordered church! Thus, the principle of headship in the church must be applied and exercised carefully. We all owe mutual love and respect to one another. Yet, all males are not given headship over all females in the church.
Remember, just before he instructs wives to submit to their husbands, Paul also instructs us all to submit to one another. Both of these injunctions are God's word to us, and we may not overreact to them by ignoring passages that don't suit us. Thus, should two Christians—one male and one female—from the same congregation work together outside of church, the male by virtue of his sex does not necessarily have a right to exercise headship over the female. That would be an illegitimate, unwarranted, and unintended extension of the apostle’s teaching on headship.
Widowed females were heads of households in the first century.
As New Testament scholars have shown, there were widowed female heads of households in the first century. Males in those households worked for the female property owner. The headship principle could not then be construed such that a female could not exercise business-related authority over her male employees—that is, servants or slaves—simply because of the sex of the two people involved.
If two laity, one male and the other female, work on a church project together, the mere fact that one is male doesn't necessarily mean that he is the head of the female, even though they are both in the same congregation and arguably working within the spiritual sphere. Again, there are limits to the headship principle. Absent the husband-wife relation or the officer-laity relation, sex does not determine headship necessarily.
The word of God makes critical distinctions regarding specific circumstances.
When Paul says, “I do not permit a woman to teach or exercise authority” (1 Tim. 5:12) in the church, we may not construe authority to mean more than it does. When the apostle speaks of authority here, he's referring to ecclesiastical authority—the exercise of ruling or teaching offices. The word of God governs all of life for all Christians, but the word of God also makes distinctions that we must observe.
The Pauline teaching is clear that in both the church and the family there is a divinely revealed pattern of male headship. Wives are to submit to their husbands, and husbands are to self-sacrificially love their wives. All believers are to submit to the rightly constituted offices of the church, and those offices are restricted to qualified males.
To attempt to extrapolate from these two relationships, husband-wife and officer-laity, to all other male-female relationships is to ignore the context and original intent of Paul's instruction. Such willful transgression of the apostolic teaching, while perhaps not as destructive as ignoring his teaching on headship altogether, is potentially damaging since it tends to bring Paul’s instruction into disrepute by careless application of it.
We must always seek to apply Scripture’s teaching according to the intent of the passage.
In that respect, it is useful to consider Paul's teaching in 1 Corinthians 5:9-11:
I wrote to you in my letter not to associate with sexually immoral people—not at all meaning the sexually immoral of this world, or the greedy and swindlers, or idolaters, since then you would need to go out of the world. But now I am writing to you not to associate with anyone who bears the name of brother if he is guilty of sexual immorality or greed, or is an idolater, reviler, drunkard, or swindler—not even to eat with such a one.
Notice how important it was for the Corinthians to apply Paul’s teachings specifically according to his intent. The apostle wanted them not to associate with sexually immoral people. Some have taken this to mean that Christians could never in any way associate with the sexually immoral, but such a conclusion contradicts Paul's explicit teaching in verse 10. He specifically limited his instruction to cover those who were under discipline in the congregation for sexual immorality.
To apply this instruction more broadly than Paul did—as the apostle even points out—would be impossible and make his teaching ridiculous. The Corinthian Christians would have to flee the world. Paul assumes that's impossible and even undesirable. It's quite possible for large numbers of people—even whole movements—to miss a verse like 1 Corinthians 5:10 and go off on tangents. The entire monastic movement for the last 1800 years has essentially ignored this verse.
Evidently, the specific application of his instruction, bearing in mind the original context and intent, was quite important to Paul, and so it should be important to us in all matters, including the limits of male headship.
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I have watched Leaving Neverland. As much as I could stomach anyway. It has shaken me. I heard things that I wish I had never heard. Michael Jackson was a paedophile. He coldly, cunningly, and expertly groomed his victims and their families: in this documentary two boys aged ten and seven. He did the cruelest and foulest things to them. He ravaged their childhood. He was a monster.
Could such a man be forgiven? Could we ever forgive a person who ravaged us in that way? Can we even forgive people of their far lesser crimes against us? The cruel word? The callous betrayal? Repeated offenses?
Corrie Ten Boom forgave the Nazi guard who murdered her sister. Her heavy load of poisonous bitterness was lifted. Relief! Joy! We picture ourselves doing the same and feel exhilarated in advance. But when we come to it, it is excruciatingly difficult.
Forgiving others is far easier imagined than done.
I may think I am a forgiving person. Then someone actually hurts me, and forgiving is like trying to tear down your own house with your bare hands. You don’t want to, and it’s just too hard and painful. Yet, in the fifth petition of the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus pointedly demands this agonizing labor from us.
“And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.” (Matt. 6:12; all Scripture quotations from NIV version)
This prayer is as sweet as a pomegranate and as stern as steel. Strip out the conjunction (“as”), adverb (“also”), and pronouns (“us,” “our,” “we”), and only two words remain. Forgive. Debt. Thoroughly understanding these words is the key to understanding this prayer.
The Greek verb for “forgive” was associated with an archer shooting an arrow.
The Greek verb aphiēmi was used by Homer and the Greeks to describe an archer shooting an arrow. “Releasing” an arrow then became a vivid metaphor for releasing someone from a legal obligation. You could aphiēmi, “release,” someone from their office, their legal contract, their debt, or their marriage. Aphiēmi became the word for divorce.
The Greek-speaking Jewish scholars used aphiēmi in their translation of the Hebrew Old Testament, the Septuagint. Note these examples:
Leviticus 16 commanded the scapegoat, symbolically bearing the sins of Israel, to be aphiēmi, released into the desert.
Leviticus 25 mandated that every fifty years, debt-slaves were to be freed and property that had been sold to repay debts was to be freed and returned to the original owner. A ram’s horn was blown to announce the year of freedom and release from debt bondage. This was the Jubilee Year, and in fact the Septuagint translates Jubilee with the related noun, aphēsis, the year of “release.”
Deuteronomy 15 commanded all debts to be cancelled every seven years. The cancellation was aphiēmi, release from obligation.
When Jacob died, Joseph’s brothers were terrified: “What if Joseph holds a grudge and pays us back for all the wrongs we did to him?” They concocted a story to save their hides, “Dad said that you have to forgive us.” “So please forgive (aphiēmi) the sins of the servants of the God of your father” (see Gen. 50:15-21).
Joseph didn’t buy it, but neither did he get angry. He wept. The brothers groveled, “We are your slaves!” But Joseph reassured them with kind words, “Don’t be afraid. Am I in the place of God?” “I will provide for you and your children.”
The Bible emphasizes action above words. Joseph didn’t use the word “forgive,” but he did exactly that. He gave up his right to anger and harm. He was kind and loving and worked for his brothers’ good.
In the New Testament, the Greek word Jesus used for “forgive” has three basic meanings.
First, aphiēmi means to dismiss or release someone or something from a person or place. Jesus sent (aphiēmi) the crowd away in Matthew 15:39. Jesus dismissed (aphiēmi) his spirit in Matthew 27:50.
Second, itmeans to leave something or someone. James and John left their boat, nets, and father in Matthew 4:22. The fever left (aphiēmi) Peter’s mother-in-law in Matthew 8:14. Jesus promised not to leave (aphiēmi) his disciples as orphans.
Third, it means to release from legal or moral obligation or consequence. So aphiēmi is a word for divorce in the New Testament. It refers to cancelling a financial debt in Matthew 18:27.
Put all this together and you have a high-definition image of the word that Jesus chose to use in the fifth petition, “Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.” We pray for God to release us from something—and affirm that we have released others from that same thing.
From what exactly do we ask to be released?
This is the second word, opheilēma. The Anglican Book of Common Prayer translated opheilēma as “trespasses,” and this is the source of the cherished traditional form of the Lord’s Prayer. Opheilēma is however translated “debts” in all our major English translations: KJV, RSV, NASB, NRSV, ESV, Holman’s, NIV, etc.
Opheilēma refers to something owed. In Romans 4:4 it is wages owed for work done. In Matthew 18:30 it is a financial debt. In Romans 13:8 it is the love that Christians owe to one another. In 1 Corinthians 7:3 it is the sexual relationship that husbands and wives “owe” to one another.
What debt do we owe?
In the fifth petition we pray that our heavenly Father will release us from what we owe to him: “Forgive us our debts.” What debt do we owe? Because God is a just God, and we have broken his laws, we owe him punishment. Punishment is a debt that we must pay for our rebellion. "The wages of sin is death." We pray, “Forgive us our debt of punishment. Release us from our obligation to be punished. Do not treat us as those who owe you punishment.”
Stop and take this in. The holy Lord whose fury breaks out against lawbreakers, the sovereign Judge of the world whose very being thirsts for perfect justice, can forgive us our debts. He can treat us as though we no longer needed to be punished. A real-life example may help where words fail.
David owed a tremendous debt of punishment to the holy and just Lord.
God gave David everything. Yet he lusted for Bathsheba, the wife of one of his mighty men, one of his close and trusted companions in war, a man with whom he had stood side-by-side through the blood and fire of the battlefield, armor to armor, shield to shield, life to life. David took Bathsheba and defiled her and murdered her chastity. He did this while his friend, her husband, fought on the frontline defending his nation.
Discovering that he had made her pregnant, David cooked up a cowardly cover-up. He called his “friend” Uriah home and plied him with drink in the hope that he would go home to the bed of his wife, something that soldiers on active duty were loath to do while their companions suffered in the field. Having botched the cover-up, David plotted to murder his friend by having him abandoned in the midst of battle. He made his friend carry the written plan for his own murder. Uriah the Hittite was slaughtered to plan.
David stood before the Lord guilty of adultery, deceit, betrayal, cowardice, and murder. David owed a tremendous debt of punishment to the holy and just Lord. But David confessed his sin and pleaded for forgiveness, and the Lord forgave him. David later sang about this in Psalm 32,
Blessed is the one
whose transgressions are forgiven,
whose sins are covered.
Blessed is the one
whose sin the Lord does not count against them
and in whose spirit is no deceit. (Ps. 32:1-2)
God longs to forgive us our sins.
This is what the Lord wills to do! Jesus commands us to pray for this. God longs to forgive us our sins:
If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. (1 John 1:9)
Yet Jesus welds something to this prayer for forgiveness: “Forgive us our debts, as we have forgiven our debtors.” This is the only one of the six petitions attached to a qualifying clause. This prayer is like the baby brought to Solomon. You can’t take a sword and cut one half from the other without destroying it.
And notice that this is the only one of the six petitions, after the Lord’s Prayer, that Jesus refers back to with an explanation:
“For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.” (Matt. 6:14-15)
This is very direct and clear, and it is stated twice over. First positively, “If you forgive then God will forgive you.” Then negatively, “If you don’t forgive, then God won’t forgive you.”
There is no loophole, exception clause, or fine print. There is no soft spot that a clever lawyer could exploit to find a situation where we will not have to forgive. Jesus is absolute. Forgive, or else.
There is no situation where we don’t have to forgive.
Jesus spells out the reason for this in a powerful parable in Matthew 18:23-25. Imagine a king who demands that his underlings repay their loans. One of them owes ten thousand talents of gold. Back in the day a talent of gold was worth about twenty-five years of work, say $1.5 million in today’s terms. So this man owed the equivalent of 250,000 years of work, about $15 billion, more than all the money in the world of Jesus’ listeners. Jesus made them laugh to think of such a gargantuan sum.
The servant begs for time to repay, an impossible task. Yet, “The servant’s master took pity on him, canceled the debt (aphiēmi) and let him go” (Matt. 18:27). Fresh from the relief of forgiveness, the servant now hunts down someone who owed him 100 denarii, about $25,000. A fair bit of money, but only a fraction of a fraction of what he’d just been forgiven. So what does the servant do? He seizes his debtor and starts strangling him!
The strangled debtor does exactly what the servant did. He fell on his knees with exactly the same plea and promise: “Be patient! I’ll repay!” However, his promise was doable. He could have repaid his creditor in installments over a few years. The wretched servant refuses and has the man thrown into prison.
The master is livid: “You wicked servant, I canceled all that debt of yours because you begged me to do so. Shouldn’t you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had on you?” (see Matt. 18:32-33).
The servant had no appreciation for what had been done for him.
The servant’s refusal to forgive showed that he had zero grasp of and appreciation for what had been done for him. His heart had not been affected, and so his behavior did not change. “In anger his master turned him over to the jailers to be tortured, until he should pay back all he owed.” Which would have been never.
The punch-line? “This is how my heavenly Father will treat each of you unless you forgive your brother from your heart.”
Want the best for those who have hurt you.
Who has hurt you? Your reputation? Your business? Your feelings? Your future? Whether out of cruelty, thoughtlessness, spite, or pride? Forgive them. Let the crime go. Want the best for them. Want them to have a good future. Want them to find peace and happiness. Treat them, as far as you are able, with kindness. Want them to be saved.
This does not mean that hard conversations must not be had, “If your brother or sister sins against you, go and show them their fault.” This does not necessarily mean that you bring the thief back into your business, or the abuser back into the home, or the unrepentant back into fellowship:
But now I am writing to you that you must not associate with anyone who claims to be a brother or sister but is sexually immoral or greedy, an idolater or slanderer, a drunkard or swindler. Do not even eat with such people. (1 Cor. 5:11)
Forgiveness yearns for and takes steps towards reconciliation, knowing that it may not be possible. But an inability to reconcile does not in the slightest preclude our forgiving others, loving them, praying for their best, wanting them to find salvation and heaven.
Could we forgive a monster like Michael Jackson? Can we forgive like Corrie Ten Boom? Can we forgive those around us for their cruel and thoughtless offenses?
We can. We must.
The Lord’s Prayer draws us together around the hearth of forgiveness. We pray for our Father’s forgiveness. He forgives us, and knowing the abysmal depth and extent of all that he is forgiven in us—things done in secret or in the secret places of our mind that would appall others if only they knew—then we cannot help but forgive others. And so the Christian home and church become beautiful places of patience, forgiveness, and love.
Forgive us our debts, as we have forgiven our debtors.
