Showing posts with label Calvinism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Calvinism. Show all posts

13 February 2015

Some Here, Some There — February 13, 2015

by Dan Phillips

Because my dear and only daughter squawks if I don't have one up by midnight (and I can't have that), here's a first edition. There will be additions up to noon, Texas time, as usual.
  • Hokey smokes! David Murray (aka The Jolly Scotsman) shares an amalgamation of >500 online preaching resources.
  • Adam Parker talks about how right, normal, and Biblical it is for a man to long for male friendship. Does not talk about how to find it.
  • Here's the Director's Cut, so to speak, of the most recent sermon in the Ephesians series. It failed to record, so I re-preached it (with my lovely wife comprising the audience at church), and as they say considerably revised and extended my remarks. It closes Ephesians 1:4-6, giving fourteen reasons why election must be unconditional, plus doing some questions and answers about predestination, election, free will, evangelism, and more.
  • It's been suggested that this be added to the next Pyro conference. To which I say: noted.
  • Background on the Crusades from Kevin DeYoung.
  • Unicorns in the Bible? Um... hunh.
  • Hungry? You will be.
  • Left off one obvious best bacon meal, though. The one that's...


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10 October 2014

Some here, some there — October 10, 2014

by Dan Phillips

We're still on granddaughter watch. Yesterday was the due date, so this post could be updated.

But already a very full plate today! Let's launch. Tell me which ones are particularly chuckalicious, informative, thought-provoking, helpful, nuanced...oh wait, forget that. Sorry, got carried away.
  • To start on a somber note: You may know that discernment blogger and pastor Ken Silva passed away. Chris Rosebrough held a sort of online memorial for him, which you can listen to here. Reader Christine Pack of Sola Sisters, and Phil Johnson, were among those who spoke of Ken's impact.
  • Now, to the lighter side.
  • If you're in Twitter, here's a fun little game. Then plug in your favorite RPB and chuckle. BTW, the Spurgeon account gets 100% on "upbeat"! 
  • Have you heard "Christianity is not a religion, it's a relationship" enough yet? I've had a few pointed words with its echoers (including Jefferson Bethke). Here's a good, full-orbed response from William Boekestein.
  • In the insightful essay Had Sex, Dumped JesusJoel J. Miller develops the correct causality chain in much apostasy (h-t Aquila Report). People have immoral sex; that creates painful cognitive dissonance; God or the immorality has to go for peace to reign; God goes.
  • I wish I'd gotten down verbatim what I heard Josh McDowell say many years ago. He said he'd gotten to the point that, when some teen would come to him saying "I'm beginning to have serious doubts about my faith," his first response would be along the lines of, "Oh? who are you sleeping with?"
  • This is a step aside from the usual, but it's genius. It's one of those things that, if Frank Turk actually read the posts here, he'd really like.
  • Another step aside: ah yes, World War I. That's where the good guys fought the Germans... and the tripods?!
  • Tone-change in 3... 2... 1...
  • M'man David Murray offers a video he calls the most powerful illustration of the Gospel he's ever seen. It's worth watching. I teared up. I think I get what David's saying. Yet if it weren't for David, it just isn't what I would have thought. Instead, I can't help that a bunch of questions team in my mind, at the same time that I admire this man and am moved by what he did. That probably makes me a (or IDs me as a) bad person. You?
  • Over at the indispensable DBTS blog, professor Bill Combs asks whether a person really has to be either Calvinist or Arminian, with no middle-ground. He answers, correctly, Yes.
  • Here's one way I'd put it: either God's choice of me is the result of my choice of Him, or my choice of Him is the result of His choice of me. There's no middle-ground that isn't exclusively populated by weasels.
  • We've noted a number of times how many issues The Gospel Coalition can't seem to be bothered with pro-actively. But there is one issue they're right on top of: Kevin Bauder shared some excellent thoughts on the subject, and yesterday TGC moved to prove him right yet again.
  • Because I love you, I caution you not to hold your breath waiting for the appropriately nuanced, helpful, thoughtful presentation of the other view on this question.
  • I had a comment up. Then it disappeared. Then it returned, and has been joined by some (far better) comments of dissent. At present, this is the reverse of the usual TGC situation: the comments are far better than the article.
  • I'm tempted to write (on my blog) a response-piece titled "Is the Bible A Deceptive Book of Secret Code?" I mean, what can the TGC do to me? Hate me? Ignore everything I write about topics they claim to love? Blacklist me?
  • For my part, I've thought a certain amount of the animus against such things is fueled by jealousy. I mean, think of it: what would an amill end times movie look like? Nothing happens, nothing happens, nothing happens, and then the movie ends because the filmmakers wouldn't want to show the face of Jesus.
  • So, in a way... every movie is an amill end-times movie, isn't it?
  • Before you ask: no, this isn't how they fight Ebola in Texas, so stop asking.
  • My brother from another mother Phil Johnson and I had an offstage disagreement about whether a certain literary-type thingie was witty and worthwhile, or whether it was obnoxious and offensive. Often, when I think I know what Phil will and won't find funny... I'm dead-wrong. Still. For instance, here's something to ponder: Phil sees something like this as high comedy. So, there y'go.
  • Now: how's your heart? In need of a good stopping? Perfect. I think I have just the thing:
  • If that didn't finish you: David Murray — who, I think, does not sleep — found this absolutely gorgeous and heart-stopping video of this gent biking on the Isle of Skye. If you watch as I did, you'll alternately gasp, hold your breath, yelp What?!, and murmur "oh my gosh." I had no idea a bike could do all that. Still not sure a bike should do all that. But now I know it can, if propelled by the right cast-iron legs.
  • You probably know that Jonathan Merritt did a piece on Tony Campolo's son's apostasy, if that's the right word for it. The real news story that the article broke is that someone still thinks that Tony Campolo is "an influential evangelical leader." The rest of the post is a target-rich environment for sad and unsurprised reflection.
  • That said, I say this: Francis Schaeffer was a fine and sound Christian leader, and Franky's defection is famous. Apostasy happens, and it's always the fault of the apostate, no matter how fine or how wretched a father he had.
  • Lovecraft, Cabin in the Woods, Joss Whedon, and Calvinism? What? Oh, must be Patheos.
  • Lyndon Unger doesn't think much of the movie Left Behind, only in his case it isn't because he's on the Dispie-Dissing bandwagon.
  • So Joan, who's been attending for some months, comes to you wanting to trust and follow Christ. In conversation, you learn that Joan is really John, minus this and plus than thanks to surgical disfigurement. After you've swallowed your gum, what do you say? Russell Moore gives some refreshingly nuance-free and straightforward counsel.
  • Amazing sculptures out of pencil lead make us think of God's more amazing living scultures out of microscopic material.
  • This helped and challenged me: Leon Brown on the fact that sharing the gospel can be incovenient (so deal with it, re-set your priorities Kingdomward, and get on with it).
  • Aquila Report found a very provocative perspective on dying from cancer, and on dying in general. Lacking Gospel, yet worth pondering.
  • Here is a different perspective, this time with the Gospel (and a little LCMS sauce).
  • M'man Denny Burk asks whether we have confidence in Christ that could handle Ebola.
What essential service will you contribute to your church this Sunday? Well, if you're late, here's an app that can help:



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23 April 2013

What in the "world"?

by Dan Phillips

In my review of the new EEC volume on the letters of John, I remarked on the author's selective lack of curiosity as to John's meaning in using "world" (kosmos) in 1 John 2:2. I noted that Derickson was forced to admit and consider other senses in later passages, though he had treated 2:2 as if the term could only be univocal, and only naked and baseless dogmatism could ever move one to another view.

My aim here is not to solve the difficulties in understanding 1 John 2:2 (on which I've shared a thought or two in the past). Rather, it is to open some minds — pause, to allow gales of laughter and tear-wiping to die down — of those who imagine that Bible readers who affirm Scripture's teachings about God's sovereignty in grace (i.e. "Calvinists") simply make up the notion that "world" could ever mean anything other than "every last man, woman and child who ever has been born or ever will be born."

I'd just like to observe that it is not only impossible to imagine that the word always has that meaning — it is, in fact, questionable whether it ever has that meaning.

My favorite example is John 1:10, which saith: "He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him."

Can we say, "World just means world," and be saying anything meaningful about that passage?

That is, is John really saying, "In the incarnation, the Logos was in the presence of every last man, woman and child who ever has been born or ever will be born, and every last man, woman and child who ever has been born or ever will be born was made through him, yet every last man, woman and child who ever has been born or ever will be born did not know him"?

Unlikely.

Rather, is not John saying "Jesus came to be in the society of mankind [Sense 1], and though the entire physical universe [Sense 2] had been made through him [cf. v. 3], yet the anti-God Satanic system within it [Sense 3] did not know him"? If so, then, do we not have three senses of the same word, kosmos, in a single verse?

Or how about John 3:17, the verse after the Arminians' favorite (imagined) trump-card verse? It reads, "For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him." Again, a threefold use of kosmos. Does John really mean, "For God did not send his Son in the Incarnation to every last man, woman and child who ever has been born or ever will be born to condemn every last man, woman and child who ever has been born or ever will be born but in order that every last man, woman and child who ever has been born or ever will be born will be saved through him"? If so, how come most of the world never got a glimpse of Jesus or heard a word He said (and still haven't), and how come so many people are in fact and will in fact remain lost?


Or take 1 John 5:19, which has virtually the same wording as 2:2 — "We know that we are from God, and the whole world lies in the power of the evil one." So, really? Is John actually saying that "every last man, woman and child who ever has been born or ever will be born lies in the power of the evil one"? What about John himself, and the believers to whom he wrote? John certainly didn't think they all lay under the power of Satan (cf. 2:13-14). As for Paul, he thought he was (and we are) "in Christ," not in the evil one.

We shall come to real misery when we try to apply this to John 17:9, where our Lord prays, "I am praying for them. I am not praying for the world but for those whom you have given me, for they are yours." Is He saying, " I am praying for them. I am not praying for every last man, woman and child who ever has been born or ever will be born but for those whom you have given me, for they are yours." But aren't "those whom you have given me" people who have been born?

I could easily go on, and on, and on and on and on. Of course, no human power can dislodge dogma from the grips of its worshipers, but one may dare to hope that all fair-minded readers will grant the one point I'm making: the word kosmos is not univocal, and it does not "just mean 'world,' period." It means different things in different contexts.

What that specific meaning is must be determined by serious exegesis, and not by bilious assertion and airy, impatient dismissal.

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18 July 2012

Killing Calvinism

by Frank Turk


A few weeks ago I promised that today I would do a book recommendation for a new book which works over a topic which is near and dear to my heart.  The book is Killing Calvinism by Greg Dutcher, published by subscription e-publisher CruciformPress.

Cruciform is an interesting business case as it is (almost exclusively) an e-publisher, and it generates long pamphlets on a pretty tight schedule on topics of general interest.  So in approaching its titles, I don't think any of the authors are trying to produce a work which will light up a generation, and I don't think Cruciform is looking to create best-sellers.  It's looking to produce timely features with enough depth to satisfy the popular reader, and to keep the content inside to four walls of orthodoxy without turning over anyone's apple cart.

Dutcher's book is already raising a few eyebrows because, by golly, it's taking a long, hard look at the ways in which Calvinists shoot themselves in the foot.  And before I get to my angry eyebrows on this subject, let me say that if you are new to the movement, or are just now realizing that your will compared to God's will is a little puny and selfish and God's will is the only thing keeping you between the ditches of works righteousness and works frat party, you should read this book.  At less than $9, I have to admit that I wish that someone had given me one of these when I e-mailed James White for the first time after reading The Potter's Freedom -- it would have saved me a couple of years of trying to get myself on the right side of God's love and sovereignty.

The laundry list is simple: Calvinists sometimes love a system rather than a savior; we love books more than discipleship; we love the position of God more than the person of God; we forget how to evangelize; we live in a small circle; we know it all; we demean those who aren't (yet) Calvinists.  And to his credit, Dutcher doesn't turn this book into an organ to run down his fellow Calvinists for, frankly, walking the path all of us walk to get to our adolescence in the faith.  Dutcher's prose is serviceable and readable, and his points are pragmatic -- immediately actionable.

Except for the 3-5 pages he spends defending Bill Hybels in his chapter about living in too small a circle, I commend the book to you as utterly worth your time, especially if you are yourself discipling someone new to our team in the Christian theology league.

I want you to go and buy Greg Dutcher's book.  I think there are a lot of people reading this blog who need it not to find out what is wrong with other people, but what is wrong with the way they are personally doing Calvinism.  This booklet is absolutely the friendly audit of the movement, and in its analysis it covers the obvious bases.



What?  This book is only about 100 pages, and you can read it in about an hour if you mark it up really good.  You could have read through to chapter two by now if you had bought the book already.

Oh: I see.  You came for the fireworks today.  It's Wednesday, and I promised to "light up one of my favorite topics" when I came to this book review.  You're one of those people.

Listen: the biggest problem with the so-called Young-Restless-Reformed movement is how allegedly self-aware we all are.  Hipsters run around hash-tagging themselves as having #FirstWorldProblems and wearing plaid and drinking PBR in some kind of meta-ironic way -- the YRR are always rolling their eyes at how theologically-wonky they are while at the same time assembling reading lists of out-of-print books and marking up lists of their own rudimentary engagement errors while at the same time not really having any lost people they know to tell about the amazing Jesus they have 1343 uses for in soteriology and sanctification alone.  Or on the other side of the team bench they find themselves hypnotized by how close to antinomianism they can ride their motorcycles up to on the way to the MMA PPV, rattling on about Christ being bigger than sin but not so big as to actually conquer any sin in them personally.

Dutcher's book is a fine piece of work to start with for someone in cage-stage Calvinism to present to them as utterly-friendly to the movement so that they don't make the grade-school errors so many of us (note the pronoun) have made -- but let's be honest with ourselves: we have much worse problems than the ones Greg notices here.

Joe Thorn's Note to Self scratched the surface of those problems, and I credit him for that.  Note to Self is probably the second book you should read in this category of theological self-help -- right after Killing Calvinism.  But that said, I think at some point the navel-gazing has to stop and we have to live a little and take our licks to grow up.  The way that Calvinism really becomes a way to worship God and not just a kind of seminary education is to live a little, and then die a little, and then maybe die a little more, until there is less of you and more of the Jesus you ought to be leaning on left to do the things you say you believe.

So fine: read the books.  Sort of read them once and hide them away for a year or 3 so that you are forewarned about the kind of person you really are.  Then, after you have tried to live inside the warning, go back and read them a second time and see how well you did.  It will sting a little, but it will be worth it.  Every one of you needs it, and it'll be OK if you don't take my word for it.

It won't be OK, however, if you don't figure these things out on your own.








28 June 2012

Olson on Limited Atonement: Part Two

by Dan Phillips

[We rejoin an interaction begun here and already in progress.]

Understandably, Olson next says
It’s difficult to resist the impression that Calvinists who believe in limited atonement do so not for clear biblical reasons but because they think Scripture allows it and reason requires it. There is nothing necessarily wrong with that, but at least some Calvinists such as Piper have criticized others for doing the same. Piper criticizes others for allegedly embracing doctrines only because Scripture allows them and logic requires them. It seems to many non-Calvinists, however, that believers in limited atonement do exactly that. Lacking any clear, unequivocal biblical support for this doctrine, they embrace it because they think Scripture allows it and their TULIP system logically requires it. After all, if election is unconditional and grace is irresistible, then it would seem that the atonement would be only for the elect.
Olson has a point, or at least the tip of a point. The reason I usually call myself a 4.95-point Calvinist (+/-) is that, while every one of the other four points is expressly taught in Scripture, there is no single verse that expressly says, in so many words "Jesus died to atone fully for the sins of the elect and nobody else." Yet I wouldn't agree with Olson's characterization. There is an overwhelmingly strong Biblical case to be made for particular redemption, and partway-measure alternatives quickly fall apart into bibbly-babbly (but not Bibley) nonsense.

To put it another way, if one does not affirm the other four points of Calvinism, one has issues with plain Biblical teaching, and that's a problem. If one does affirm those four points, I don't see a Biblical way around the remaining point ("L"), however some might squeal and kick against it. Consider:

You have God unconditionally choosing some to salvation. You have all men without exception completely unable to respond to God. You have the Holy Spirit invincibly drawing and regenerating the elect, and only them. You have God keeping all of those thus elected and drawn, and only them. But the Son does not make infallible provision for them in His atonement, assuring their salvation? The Son leaves them unable to enjoy any of the benefits of God's other (would-be) saving acts? And if the Son does do all this for the elect, His identical act for non-elect doesn't save them? For that and many other reasons, the case for particular redemption is much, much stronger than Olsen allows.

Citing the usual "world" verses, Olson then says
Typically, Calvinists respond that in these verses “world” refers to all kinds of people and not everyone. However, that would make it possible to interpret all the places where the New Testament reports that the “world” is sinful and fallen as meaning only some people — all kinds — are sinful and fallen.
"Possible" in the abstract? I suppose so. But (A) Olson does not even try to demonstrate that "world" doesn't have many different nuances in Scripture — for very good reason!; and (B) That bad things can be done is hardly an argument that a good thing should not be done. That is, given that "world" frequently very clearly has different nuances even within a single verse (e.g. Jn. 1:10; 3:17), one is obliged to do the actual hard work of exegesis, rather than blithely asserting the meaningless "world means world" — as if there is some universally-agreed single sense to the word kosmos in the NT, such as "every human ever born."

Olson gives no evidence of having dealt seriously with studies such as John Owen's and countless others over the course of centuries, as he breezily asserts that 1 John 2:1-2 "completely undermines the Calvinist interpretation of 'world' in John 3:16,17 because it explicitly states that Christ died an atoning death not only for believers, but also for everyone." How does it undermine that case? Can Olson cite a single Calvinist — even one — who argues that "world" always means "believers only"? It is the Calvinist who observes that the word has many nuances in the NT. It is the Calvinist who seeks to establish each passage's meaning exegetically. It is Olson who fails even to try to do more than assert and assume.

In fact, Olson gives no indication of ever having truly wrestled with 1 John 2:1-2 at all, nor even recognizing what a problematic verse it is for Arminianism. Instead, Olson simply asserts that
Here “world” must include nonbelievers because “ours” refers to believers. [Ipse dixit Olson!] This verse makes it impossible to say that Christ’s death benefits everyone, only not in the same way. (Piper says Christ’s death benefits the nonelected by giving them temporal blessings only.) John says clearly and unequivocally that Christ’s atoning sacrifice was for the sins of everyone — including those who are not believers.
At the outset, for my part I'll agree that "This verse makes it impossible to say that Christ’s death benefits everyone, only not in the same way." Yessir, John says that Christ Himself (emphatic autos) is (present active indicative) the propitiation for all the world.
But not so fast. Unless one dives into tortuous Clintonian flexi-gesis©, isn't this verse a massive problem for Arminians? Does "is" mean "is," here? Is it really out of place to ask whether it is legitimate to insist that "the whole world" necessarily means every last man, woman and child ever born (as the identical phrase cannot mean in 5:19), and at the same time to ignore the "is"?
That is, John does not say that Christ "really would love to be" the propitiation for the sins of the whole world, nor that "if He had His way, He would be" that propitiation, nor that "He possibly is," nor that "He has done His part and breathlessly waits to see who will do theirs to help Him be" the propitiation. The apostle just says that Christ is the propitiation.
So we don't have only one choice, nor even two. We have several exegetical choices to make, and we also have several options. Olson's assumed (not argued!) position is only one option and, to my mind, among the least likely, and least representative of John's actual wording and use.
After this, Olson gamely tries a few more verses, but they fare much the same at his hands: questions begged, exegesis assumed rather than demonstrated, logic ignored. I understand Olson was under space limitations, and so am I. What we've already done well primes the reader to examine the verses in their actual wording, in context, and compared with usage, and ask whether Olson's assertions merit his QED.
Perhaps sensing that his exegetical case has not been strong, Olson signals his departure by asserting that "The greatest problem goes to the heart of the doctrine of God."


Now, for novices, let me just make an observation. Very often (not always!) when you read a statement like this, the author is giving you a signal. He is covertly admitting, "I don't have any actual verses that teach what I'm about to say; I'm going to have to reach into the penumbra of the Bible, and lean pretty hard on the white spaces between the lines of text." What follows is not invariably invalid, but readers should not relax their demand for proof when they see a disclaimer such as this.

Very well, then; how so does pan-textual explicit affirmation of the Biblical doctrine of a saving God encounter a "great" problem at the heart of the doctrine of God?

If you picked "God's love for $500!", you picked right. Olson somberly informs us that Calvinists are unable to affirm that God is love, with any credibility, because if a human being did what God did we wouldn't say he was loving.

Sadly, Olson ignores the good Admiral's warning tones and immediately falls down a deep and dark shaft, when he says
We would never consider someone who could rescue drowning people, for example, but refuses to do it and rescues only some as loving. We would consider such a person evil, even if the rescued people appreciated what the person did for them.
Oh dear me. Do you see what a disastrous assertion this is for Olson, of all people, to make? He says that a God who actually saves some, but leaves others to drown, is not a loving God. Well then, accepting that logic, what would that make a God who saves nobody at all, but stands on the shore watching them all drown, ineffectually waving a life-preserver at them, and assuring them all that He loves them and is waiting right there for them all to make their way to shore so He can "save" them? Because that is Olson's God, whatever Olson and his like might insist or deny. Olson has God's work in Christ only making salvation possible — and even then, as we saw, He can still send them to Hell for sins He told them He'd paid for in full!

As one hath somewhere crooned, What's "love" got to do with that?

Of course, I've done a Prov. 21:22/26:5 with that argument. The truth is that if one lets Scripture speak for itself, the folks in this case aren't drowning. They're drowned. Their bloated corpses are at the bottom of the sea. The well-meaning figure on the shore now looks even sillier.

Leaving that, Olson says that "Another way Calvinists handle the love of God ...is to say that God loves all people in some way but only some people (the elect) in all ways." Really? Only Calvinists do that? Olson thinks that God loves Judas and the Beast, John the Baptist and the False Prophet, Jacob and Esau, in exactly the same way? Does his Bible have Deut. 4:32-39; 7:7-10; Amos 3:2; Mal. 1:2-3 and all the rest?

Would he advise that we all practice those implications, feeling morally obligated to show no distinctions in whom and how we love? Should spouses love all men/women exactly as they love their mates, and vice-versa? Should parents love their children exactly as they love all other children, and vice-versa? In selecting trusted, beloved friends, are we now to ignore Prov. 13:21, 1 Cor. 5:11, 15:33, and any other verse to the contrary, in the name of loving like God loves?

Yikes.

So that's yet another total non-starter. Look, I'll just be very honest with you. I know this argument (God isn't really loving if He doesn't give saving every last person a really good try) resonates emotionally with a lot of people. Obviously it does with Olson. I get that — until you think about it. How is a hypothetical atonement that does and can save no one bespeak a greater love than an actual atonement that can and does save countless multitudes? It is loving for God to make an empty and ineffectual gesture to all people without exception, but it is unloving for Him actually and powerfully to save all sorts without exclusion?

Olson says in effect God walks into a morgue, plop down an elixir of life, and heartily inform the corpses "I love each and every one of you so much that whosoever reaches out and drinks may live" — and that is real love. Yet by contrast a God who walks into the morgue, administers His potion to some of the inhabitants, adopts them and cares for them and keeps them forever — that isn't love. What sense does that make, beyond an initial emotional flutter? Particularly when you factor in that He not only owed it to none of them, but every last one of them had been His sworn enemies?

Finally we reach the very bottom of the barrel, as Olson tells us (yes, he really does, I am not making this up) that affirming God as mighty to save is bad for evangelism. Unless you can guarantee a disinterested and unrepentant and mocking and disbelieving sinner that Jesus paid for every last one of his sins, you can't evangelize him. (In which case, as I've observed, I know for a fact of at least one Christ-hater who concluded that he had nothing to worry about and no need to repent.)

One hopes it isn't too much to ask where Olson got his apparent definition of "evangelism" as "telling lost people that Jesus atoned for all of their sins whether they believe or not, but they need to believe to make it work." I don't get that one. Neither did Paul. After all, when Paul expressly and explicitly outlined the Gospel in 1 Cor. 15:1-11, he made no such Olsonic assertion. Indeed, none of the apostles seems to have read Olson, since not a one of them preaches in his terms to lost audiences in the Book of Acts. Not. One. Time. Ever.

I try to be consistent in affirming and applying the sufficiency of Scripture. So, call me silly, but I figure that if the apostles managed to tilt their whole world (to coin a phrase) without once being recorded as telling unrepentant unbelievers that Jesus paid for all their sins, I can live and preach their Gospel without using that verbal formula too. I am able to tell every last sinner every last thing he needs to know to be informed that he needs Christ as Savior, and that if he believes in Him, he will be saved.

And then when he does repent and believe, I can show him that every bit of his interest, repentance, and faith was secured for him by the mighty grace of a mighty, loving, sovereign, saving God, through the work of Christ at Calvary. And I will show him that salvation is of the Lord, to the praise of the glory of His grace.

Alone.

One final note on Bro. Olson. Many who wish to remain Arminian (or -ish) many seethe and quibble about this and that. Perhaps a very few will confess, "Okay, you made one or two good points, maybe; we just need Olson or someone else to make a better case and give a better answer!"

No, you really don't. Let me be as plain as I can. I don't think the weakness of Olson's case is Olson's fault. By that I mean it isn't that Olson holds a really terrific, sound, Biblical position, but just did a really bad job in presenting and defending it. I think Olson probably did about as good a job as can be done with that position. The problem isn't with Olson, primarily. It's with the position. The problem with a bad product isn't that it has bad salesmen; it's that it's a bad product. And so here.

So no, in my opinion, what is needed is not for Arminians to pick a better representative.

What is needed is for them to change their minds on this issue.

Thus far Bro. Olson. Next time, Lord willing, some reflections on the oddness of the Assemblies of God turning to Olson to target Calvinism as a challenge to the Gospel.

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26 June 2012

Olson on Limited Atonement: Part One

by Dan Phillips

As I pointed out elsewhere,
The Assemblies of God, that denomination which teaches that born-again Christians who don't speak in tongues can't really serve or live for God, the same that brought us Jimmy Swaggart, Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker, Paul and Jan Crouch, David (Paul) Yonggi Cho, and other similar luminaries, is clanging the warning-bell against such "challenges to the Gospel" as...

To bring the cannons to bear against the threat of Calvinism, the AOG brought in Roger Olson, favorite theologian of many who do not affirm the Scriptural doctrine of the sovereignty of God in salvation. Roger Olson apparently is, to many Arminians, their "Big Gun," their modern answer to John Owen. Olson has often been cited in the most glowing terms by some Pyro commenters, so I was interested to see what heavyweight evidence and argument I'd find in Roger Olson's article for the Assemblies of God. After all, he was the AOG's pick to dismantle Calvinism as a "challenge to the Gospel."

At the outset of my reading, I sincerely appreciated that Olson appears to be trying to be as fair as he knows how to be in presenting Calvinism. Notably, rather than making (say) the abominable Fred Phelps a representative for Calvinism, Olson cites some of Biblical soteriology's most rightly-dominant figures both past and present, from Beza and Owen to Sproul and Piper.

Olson also airs a couple of the more persuasive arguments for the Calvinist position, such as that "if Christ died for everyone alike, then everyone is saved. After all, so the argument goes, it would be unjust of God to punish the same sins twice — once by laying the punishment on Christ and another time by sending the sinner to hell." The reader wonders if Olson has a counter to that reasoning. (Read on.)

On the other hand, one could have many quibbles, including battling citations and a foolish (or at least myopic) remark attributed to Vernon Grounds. The point Olson seems to want to make is that "many evangelicals, including some Calvinists, find this doctrine repugnant." (That inarguable, qualified observation — emphases original — becomes an unqualified "this doctrine is repulsive" in the next paragraph.)

Well, what of it? Maybe some "evangelicals" and "Calvinists" do find particular and effectual redemption "repugnant," if one defines terms broadly enough. And so? The list of doctrines "many" find "repugnant" must be long enough to include the Trinity, inerrancy, moral absolutes, the moral rightness of the conquest of Canaan, Hell, exclusivity of salvation in Christ, penal substitutionary atonement, exclusion of women from church leadership, male leadership in marriage, and a great many clearly Biblical doctrines.

At that point, one wonders whether Olson will have any non-"So what?" arguments.

And so, charitably, we'll push aside the irrelevancies and focus on the positive case and refutation Olson attempts to build. After mis-defining "propitiation" as "substitutionary, atoning sacrifice," Olson cites a few of the many verses Calvinists adduce and glosses their interpretation, then simply asserts that "these verses do not teach Calvinistic beliefs." Oh. Proof, please?

The proof is in silence, in saying that the verses' targeting of Christ's atonement (i.e. for Christ's sheep, the church, "us") "do not say Christ did not also die for others." Well, true enough. They also do not say that Christ did not also die for wolverines, quahogs, Bob's Big Boy hamburgers and '57 Chevys. And, once again, so?

Olson hurries on to assert that "Universal atonement does not require universal salvation; it only requires the possibility of universal salvation." He does not at this point cite even one verse that teaches such a thing. My mind immediately goes to the list of pilot complaints and maintenance responses, of which my favorites are:

Problem: Left inside main tire almost needs replacement
Solution: Almost replaced left inside main tire 
I mean, how would one re-word Olson's construction in that fashion? Like this?

Problem: Need possible salvation
Solution: Provided possible salvation 
But what would that even mean? Maybe the airplane tires possibly needed replacement, but I didn't possibly need salvation. No natural child of Adam possibly needs salvation. I absolutely needed salvation; I needed actual salvation.

But more to the point, what does the Bible require us to believe? Did Mary's soul rejoice in "God my possible Savior"? Was Jesus named "Jesus" because He would "possibly save His people from their sins"? Did He come into the world "possibly to save sinners"? In Olson's statement, He doesn't save them at all, "possibly" or otherwise. He just makes it possible for them to be saved.  By their acti
on.

Personally, I find that repugnant. And I find it a cause for absolute despair, for myself and for all those I love. If that is the salvation Christ came to achieve, then we are all just as doomed and hopeless as we were before.

But back to his case.

Rather astonishingly, Olson then throws himself on the bull's horns and states "It is possible for the same sins to be punished twice." Yes sir, yes ma'am, you read that right. Read it again. "It is possible for the same sins to be punished twice." That, my friend, is a direct quotation, not a parody nor a paraphrase. Here it is in full context:
It is possible for the same sins to be punished twice and that is what makes hell so absolutely tragic — it is totally unnecessary. God punishes those with hell who reject His Son’s substitution. An analogy will help make this clear. After the Vietnam War, President Jimmy Carter gave a blanket amnesty to all draft dodgers who fled to Canada and elsewhere. By presidential decree they were free to come home. Some did and some did not. Their crime was no longer punishable; but some refused to take advantage of the amnesty and punished themselves by staying away from home and family. Believers in universal atonement believe God allows sinners who refuse the benefit of Christ’s cross to suffer the punishment of hell in spite of the fact it is totally unnecessary. [emphases added]
I quoted that at length because, if I hadn't, many would assume that I'd pulled an MSNBC and edited the quotation to make Olson look silly. But that is really what he says. In fact, I make out two arguments, both absolutely absurd, insulting to God, and harmful to Scripture:
  1. God pours out the full measure of His wrath for sins on Jesus (1 Cor. 15:3), Jesus says "It is finished" (Jn. 19:31), God declares that He has accepted the sacrifice (Rom. 4:25) — and then He punishes people for those same sins — forever. If the Arminian wants to call the Biblical God affirmed in Calvinism "unloving" (because He actually saves some, though not all), I will call Olson's god unjust (because He assures sinners that He's taken care of all their sins, then punishes them forever for them). 
  2. God is, in any way, like Jimmy Carter? Ouch. But that aside: the analogy breaks down. People in Hell are punishing themselves? That man-centered absurdity is not what I read (Matt. 25:41; Jn. 3:36; 1 Thess. 1:10; 2 Thess. 1:8-9). They're either not suffering for sin at all, or God is inflicting punishment for sins that are already paid for, on Olson's model. To make the analogy work, you'd have to have President Carter issuing an amnesty for draft dodging, then heading off to Canada to arrest and imprison for the already-pardoned crime of draft-dodging those who refuse to accept the pardon. Carter has wiped the books of the crime, then imprisons them for that same crime.
Olson tells us, Believers in universal atonement believe God allows sinners who refuse the benefit of Christ’s cross to suffer the punishment of hell in spite of the fact it is totally unnecessary." So they are suffering "punishment." For what, exactly? For sins for which Christ already satisfied God's justice? Then God is unjust. (I speak as a fool.) For what sin? For rejecting Christ? But since that is disobedience to a direct command (1 John 3:23), isn't that a sin, by any sane definition? And did Christ make full satisfaction for sin, or did He not?

Ah, me. Does it get any better?
 
Olson denies the Calvinist criticism that the Arminian construct only gives "people an opportunity to save themselves," calling that assertion " totally fallacious reasoning."

But then he immediately confirms that very reasoning.

That's right. Again, let us quote Olson in full, to be fair:

Arminians (those who follow Jacob Arminius in rejecting unconditional election, limited atonement, and irresistible grace) believe Christ’s death on the Cross saves all who receive it by faith. Christ’s death secures their salvation — just as much as it secures the salvation of the elect in Calvinism. It guarantees that anyone who comes to Christ in faith will be saved by His death. This does not imply they save themselves. It simply means they accept the work of Christ on their behalf.
So in other words, Christ dies equally for Bob and for John. Christ does not do one more thing for Bob than He does for John. But Bob goes to Heaven after he dies, and John goes to Hell. Why? Clearly, not because of anything Christ did, because Christ did exactly the same for both. So who supplied the missing ingredient that meant Heaven for Bob? Who? Anyone? Bueller? That's right: Bob supplied the all-important ingredient that determined his future in Heaven. The missing ingredient that meant salvation for Bob was supplied — not by God the Father, not by God the Son, not by God the Holy Spirit, but — by Bob himself.

So who gets credit for Bob's salvation according to Olson's statement? I am sure every Arminian would say "Jesus does." I am sure that every Arminian would deny that they are teaching that the sinner deserves partial credit for their salvation. But ours is not a psychological interest, but a Biblical and logical interest, and we must follow out the logic of the system, whatever its advocates affirm or deny.

And according to that system, Jesus gets some credit, of course. He did a big thing. It was important, what Jesus did. But He didn't "pay it all." John goes to Hell in spite of what Jesus did, and Bob goes to Heaven, instead — because of what Bob added to what Jesus did. Jesus really couldn't have done it without Bob's help.

According to Olson's logic.

Anyone see a problem there? Olson and the AOG don't, evidently. But do you?

I plan to examine the rest of the article in my next post, whereupon I will open comments.

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15 June 2012

At odds? An imaginary Amyraldian pre-temporal divine council

by Dan Phillips

NOTE: this post depends on its predecessor. If you didn't read it thoughtfully, this one won't help you much.

Scripture, as we saw, points to something like a council among the members of the Trinity before the foundation of even one world. The plan of salvation was completely laid among Father, Son and Spirit.

We who affirm the Biblical teaching of God's complete sovereignty in salvation (and thus the "five points") might imagine the council going something like this, fabricating the dialogue along the lines of what Scripture itself says:
Father: We all see the mass of mankind as rebellious, fallen, dead and hopeless. Because I am rich and mercy, and because of the great love with which I love them, I am selecting a subset of humanity for salvation. They are a vast and immense host, from out of the larger number of the lost. Son, I shall give you these men and women, that you might go and give them everlasting life by making full atonement for their sin.

Son: That would be My delight.

Father: Spirit, My Son and I will send You to apply the Son's atonement to those chosen by breathing life into them, thus enabling them to repent of their sin and believe savingly in Him. Your ministry is secured by My Son's penal, substitutionary death for those I chose.

Spirit: That would be My delight.
And then they do it, successfully as always, and just as planned.

Now, the Amyraldian reconstruction would force us to envision a very different council. Amyraldians affirm the Biblical truths that that mankind is dead in sin, that God chose the elect unconditionally, that He draws them to saving faith, and that God will preserve every one of them. However, they imagine some way in which Christ died not just for those the Father and Spirit elect to save and regenerate, but for all men and women without exception — including Judas, the Beast, the False Prophet, and people who already were deceased and hopelessly suffering God's wrath.

This forces us to imagine a council that would go something like this:
Father: We all see the mass of mankind as rebellious, fallen, dead and hopeless. Because I am rich and mercy, and because of the great love with which I love them, I am selecting a subset of humanity for salvation. They are a vast and immense host, from out of the larger number of the lost. Son, I shall give you these men and women, that you might go and give them everlasting life by making full atonement for their sin.

Son: That would be My delight.

Father: Spirit, My Son and I will send you to apply the Son's atonement to those chosen by breathing life into them, thus enabling them to repent of their sin and believe savingly in Him. Your ministry is secured by My Son's penal, substitutionary death for those I chose.

Spirit: That would be My delight.

Son: Oh, one more thing.

Father and Spirit: Yes?

Son: I am also going to die for the rest of mankind as well, without exception.

Father: You will die for those I did not choose, those I will not forgive or accept, those I will leave to their sins and to the penalty for their sins? You will make an atonement I did not authorize and therefore will not receive? Why? To accomplish what?

Spirit: You will die for those to whom the Father did not send You to save and will not send Me to bring to life or draw to repentant, saving faith? Why? To accomplish what?
What would the Son answer? What could the Son answer?

We'll never know, because it didn't happen and couldn't happen.

Proponents won't like it and they won't admit it, but Amyraldianism unintentionally has the effect of putting the Son at odds with the Father and the Spirit, offering a sacrifice that the Father did not commission and will not accept, and that the Spirit will not apply.

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14 June 2012

Particular redemption: some opening thoughts

Prefatoriness: in lieu of a "roast," Frank has given Phil the perfect toast. I am working on my own (by contrast) droning, heavy-handed, somber encomium. But in the interim, while it's being readied, and interrupting my series on marriage... two posts on particular redemption, of which this is the first.

And so, without further eloquence:

Predictable but necessary clarifications
Absolutely 100% terrific brothers and sisters would not (yet) agree with what I'm about to explain. To me, that is zero barrier to fellowship or love. I am going to try to explain why I think this is an important doctrine, but it isn't an all-important doctrine. It has far-reaching implications, but not so as to define Christianity to the exclusion of all who don't agree. At our church, particular redemption not spelled out in the statement of faith, and it is not required either that members or leaders precisely think as I do about it — nor would I ever want that to change.

Talking about the doctrine
This isn't really my main post on the subject, but the main post will need this one to come first. That doesn't mean this one doesn't count!

"Limited? Ew." To those unfamiliar with the concept, "particular redemption" is more commonly known as Limited atonement, being the "L" of the acronym "TULIP." I think almost no adherent really likes the term much, because everyone's first and most natural reaction would be indignantly to burst out with "What?! — limit Christ's atonement? I don't think so!" However, any change would alter the neat little acronym (— TUPIP? TUDIP?).

However, on cooler reflection one soon realizes that every Christian necessarily limits Christ's atonement in some manner. Only universalists do not, and it's debatable whether they should be regarded as Christian.

Think about it. Every Christian believes that some people — at least Judas (Jn. 17:12), and the Beast and the False Prophet (Rev. 19:20), will suffer the wrath of God for their sins, unforgiven and "unatoned," for all eternity. So then, every Christian would "limit" the atonement of Christ by saying that it will not save those who go to Hell. Their sins are still on them; Christ has not removed them. Otherwise we're left with the universe-obliterating absurdity of sinless people forever suffering God's wrath for no reason whatever.

The usual rejoinder is that oh yes, Christ paid for absolutely every last sin, but the beneficiaries have to believe, have to accept Him. But isn't unbelief a sin (cf. Rom. 14:23)? Isn't repentant faith a command (1 Jn. 3:23), and isn't refusal to believe a sin? So doesn't this position "limit" the atonement by saying, in effect, "Yeah, but not those sins"? And doesn't that add the conceivably-worse necessary corollary that I then must save myself by adding the one element that makes all the difference between Heaven and Hell for me, an element not provided by Christ's work on the Cross?

The question, then, isn't whether Christians "limit" Christ's atonement. All Christians do. The question is how it should be "limited," Biblically.

Rounding up. I commonly say that I am a 4.95-4.97 point Calvinist. When I say that, I mean that I think that anyone who believes in the Bible either affirms T, U, I and P, or he's fudging on core Biblical doctrine for some other reason. Those doctrines are not merely reasonable conclusions of what Scripture teaches — they simply are what Scripture teaches, straight-up and in so many words.

The point on which I measure .95-.97 is, of course, L. Now you'll observe correctly that 4.95 "rounds up" very nicely to 5, and so I'll sign on as a 5-point Calvinist without blushing. But the reason for the .03-.05 variation is simply that, unlike the other four points, there is no single verse that straight-up lays the doctrine down in so many words, and there are a couple of challenging verses.

However, the reason why the variation is only .03-.05 is because I think that the cumulative Biblical case for "L" is overwhelming, the "challenging" verses are at least equally challenging for other positions, and every alternative explanation I've ever heard very soon comes to very serious Biblical grief.


Talking the doctrine
What this position means is that I believe the Biblical teaching that the plan of redemption is an eternal plan that was laid and finalized before the first second ticked on the cosmos (cf. Eph. 1:4ff.; 3:11). I believe the Biblical teaching that, in that plan, the Father saw mankind as fallen, guilty, dead and hopeless — and of that mass He selected a subset for salvation (Eph. 1:4ff.), giving them to the Son that the Son should give them eternal life (Jn. 17:2). This number, while a subset, is nonetheless a vast and humanly-innumerable international crowd (Rev. 7:9).

I believe the Biblical teaching that the Son made absolutely full satisfaction for every one of those thus selected by the Father, laying down His life for them, satisfying God's justice and wrath for them, saving them, and guaranteeing their conversion, preservation and resurrection (Matt. 20:28; Mk. 10:45; Jn. 6:37, 44-45; 10:11, 15, 26-30; Rom 3:24-25; Eph. 5:25f.). He came into the world to save sinners (Mt. 1:21; 1 Tim. 1:15), not to try to save them, or to give them an opportunity to save themselves. He prays for them (Jn. 17); He does not even pray for the world (Jn. 17:9). All of the blessings He achieved for any one of them are given to every one of them (Rom. 8:29-39). If Christ died for you, you will surely be saved. It cannot be otherwise — unless you imagine that He can fail in achieving the eternal purpose of the God who succeeds in accomplishing all He sets out to accomplish (Ps. 115:3; Eph. 1:11).

This is why, as one sees in reading the small selection of Scriptures above, the Bible characteristically speaks of the atonement in particular terms. Christ dies for the sheep, for His friends, for the church, for us (believers), for you (believers). It is also why Scripture characteristically speaks of His saving design as effectual. That is, He redeems, He saves, He reconciles, He propitiates; He does not try to redeem, try to save, try to reconcile, try to propitiate; He does not characteristically make redemption available, make salvation available, make reconciliation available, make propitiation available.


The practical upshot
What difference does it make for me that I see this doctrine in Scripture? I'll be candid and specific. (Readers: No! Really?)

Credit. It means that I give literally every last atom of credit and glory for my salvation to the Triune God, and I trace every bit of it to the eternal counsels of God ultimately accomplished in Christ's work on the Cross. I contribute absolutely nothing to my salvation. (The reader may be recalling at this point that I did write a book along these lines, explaining at much greater length — though not at all dwelling on "L.")

Responsibility. "But didn't you have to hear the Gospel, repent and believe?" a newcomer asks. Absolutely (see that selfsame book, at great length). But the point is that even this repentance and faith was assured to me by Christ's work on the Cross (Rom. 8:29-39; Eph. 2:8-9; Phil. 1:29).

Evangelism. It also does affect the way I evangelize.

Now, it has no negative effect on whom I evangelize. The assumption that affirming the Biblical doctrine of election makes evangelism pointless is and always has been off-base. I have no way of knowing that anyone I talk to is not elect. Though there are many reprobate, Scripture only certainly identifies three individuals that I can think of: Judas, the Beast, and the False Prophet. If I am not talking to one of them, I have no reason for assuming that (s)he is not elect, and will not come to saving faith through my giving the Gospel (cf. Rom. 1:16).

So believing in particular redemption has zero limiting effect on whom I evangelize.

It does, however, have an effect on what I tell them. Now, many "L-people" have no problem saying "Christ died for your sins" to unsaved people. For my part, I do have a problem with that. First, I notice that the apostles never found it necessary to say, in their evangelism of the unsaved. Not once. Second, to me, saying "Christ died for your sins" is exactly the same thing as saying "You are saved, redeemed, reconciled, and assured of Heaven." Unless and until they trust Christ savingly, I have no assurance that this is true of them. So I don't say it until I have warrant.

Instead, I say that Christ died for sinners just like me and just like them. I say that Christ calls them to Himself, invites them to come. I say that, if they come, they will find their sins forgiven, for He is able to save to the uttermost all who draw near to the Father through Him.

After all, what does an unbeliever need to know? Does he need to know whether Christ died for him individually? Or does he need to know whether, if he comes to Christ in repentant faith, He will find Christ willing and ready to receive him and forgive Him?

Remember, this is the point at which all Christians agree: if someone does not come to Christ in repentant faith, the death of Christ will do him no good. That is, his sins will not be forgiven, and he will suffer God's wrath for eternity. So why is it essential to do what the apostles never did, and tell him that Christ died for him? If Christ died for all his sins, then how is sin still a problem? Isn't that the same as telling him he has nothing to worry about, since "Jesus paid it all"? If He "paid it all," then I'm set! 

By the way, I'm not being merely theoretical. My memory from my pagan days, decades ago, is that I listened with contempt to any Christian who tried to tell me I needed to believe in Jesus to be saved from my sins. I didn't believe what they were saying. But I thought, "Anyway, if you're right, sounds like Jesus took care of my 'sin'-problem anyway, so it should work out."

Okey-doke, are we all on the same page now – at least insofar as we understand what we’re talking about?

Terrific. Then, Lord willing, I’ll make my actual point in the next post.

11 September 2011

On the Inability/Responsibility Conundrum

Your weekly dose of Spurgeon
posted by Phil Johnson

The PyroManiacs devote some space each weekend to highlights from The Spurgeon Archive. The Following excerpt is from "Illustrations and Meditations: or, Flowers from a Puritan's Garden," Spurgeon's collection of wisdom adapted from the works of Thomas Manton.




"THE DRUNKEN SERVANT STILL A SERVANT"

"A drunken servant is a servant, and bound to do his work; his master loseth not his right by his man's default."

t is a mere assumption, though some state it with much confidence, that inability removes responsibility. As our author shows, a servant may be too drunk to do his master's bidding, but his service is still his master's due.

If responsibility began and ended with ability, a man would be out of debt as soon as he was unable to pay; and if a man felt that he could not keep his temper he would not be blamable for being angry. A man may be bound to do what he cannot do: the habitual liar is bound to speak the truth, though his habit of falsehood renders him incapable of it. Every sin renders the sinner less able to do right, but the standard of his duty is not lowered in proportion to the lowering of his capacity to come up to it, or it would follow that the more a man is depraved by sin the less guilty his actions become, which is absurd.

Every Christian will confess that it is his duty to be perfect, and yet he mourns over his inability to be so. It never enters into the Christian's head to excuse his failings by pleading the incapacity of his nature; nay, this is another cause for lamentation.

The standard of responsibility is the command of God. The law cannot be lowered to our fallen state. It is sin to neglect or break a divine command. All the theology which is based upon the idea that responsibility is to be measured by moral ability or inability has the taint of error about it.

Lord, make me to know my obligation, that I may be humbled, and help me to adore thy grace, by which alone holiness can be wrought in me.

C. H. Spurgeon


08 September 2011

All?

"All" Always Means ALL. Right?
Hermeneutics and common sense.

(First posted 16 December 2008)

by Phil Johnson



sually when someone wants to argue that the word all is inflexibly comprehensive, it's an Arminian who wants to put a universalist spin on biblical statements such as "one has died for all, therefore all have died" (2 Corinthians 5:14) or "[Christ] gave himself as a ransom for all" (1 Timothy 2:6).

The last conversation I had on that subject, however, was an e-mail dialogue with a radically pacifist anabaptist, who insisted that Jesus' command in Matthew 5:34 ("Do not swear at all") rules out all oaths of all kinds, including legal oaths, swearings-in, marriage vows, and formal covenants.

His argument was simple: "All" means all, full stop.

What follows is taken verbatim from the e-mail dialogue that ensued. (I've put my interlocutor's words in blue, to make it easier to follow the dialogue):



Me: The word "all" is not necessarily (or even usually) meant to be taken in an absolute sense. We understand this perfectly well in everyday speech:
  • "He travels overseas all the time."
  • "I have tried all kinds of shoes, but I like these the best."
  • "Solving that puzzle was no trouble at all."

In each case, "all" plainly expresses something less than a sweeping, comprehensive, all-inclusive, woodenly literal "all."

Him: Phil, you know I can't let this one slide by, well-intentioned though it was. It is of course possible that the first man is always overseas, and the second has tried all kinds of shoes, and that the third instantly saw the entire solution to the puzzle (as God always would). Barring these, however, all three would be lying.

Me: Don't be ridiculous. In normal discourse, no one would imagine that the speaker means all in the exhaustive sense in any of those examples. If you tried to press that sort of woodenly literal meaning into the words of people you dialogue with, you would never be able to communicate sensibly. We all frequently employ the word all in all kinds of contexts where the meaning is clearly not meant to be exhaustive. See? I just did it twice.

Him: Like it or not, using the word figuratively like that is a form of lying, and we know that our God and His Prophets are/were not liars.

Me: Now you're being worse than ridiculous. None of those would be a lie. People use expressions like that all the time, and they are not lies. See? I just did it again.

And consider this: Jesus said, "The poor you always have with you, but you do not always have me" (John 12:8). If you insist on the absolute sense of "always," Jesus got it exactly backward! Because He is the one who is always with us in the absolute sense (Hebrews 13:5); the poor are "with us always" only in a non-absolute sense. He has existed from before the foundation of the world, and He will exist for all eternity, and he is omnipresent at (exhaustively) all times. By comparison, "the poor" aren't even a blip on the screen. They are here today, gone tomorrow. So if you insist parsing Jesus' statement with absolute meanings, you must conclude that He got it wrong—or else (by the standard you are insisting on) He lied.

Him: The statement "Do not swear at all" doesn't need a whole lot of parsing. Either all kinds of oaths are sinful, as I believe, or Jesus and James lied (or at least exaggerated), which I am disinclined to assume.

Me: You need to do some more careful thinking about what constitutes a "lie," and what words mean in their normal usage.

Him: It sounds to me like you are claiming "all" never means all at all.

Me: On the contrary, the word all always means "all." What I am actually claiming is that the word has all kinds of possible meanings. Look up "all" in an unabridged dictionary if you want to see the semantic range of the word.

Him: How then do we know that all (without exception) have sinned and fall short of the glory of God?

Me: Simple. The context makes that clear. Similarly, we know that the word in Matthew 5:34 is not an absolute "all" because of the contextual reasons I have already cited. Namely, we have biblical examples that prove this is not an exhaustive prohibition. Jesus Himself testified under oath. Paul included an oath in 2 Corinthians 1:23 under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. In the context of Matthew 5, What Jesus forbade was the casual use of flippant oaths in everyday speech.

This is not complex hermeneutics. I'm guessing you make sense of the various ways people use words like all and always all the time in everyday speech. All you need to do is apply the same standards of common sense and context when you read Scripture, and it will all make better sense.

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