Didn’t God tell us that sexual perversion, the murder of the unborn, wicked government officials, and many more evils in our society are the disorders of his creation that he intends to solve? Why is he not doing something about them now?

Why God delays when he can do something about it if he wants is a question that haunts God’s people. Yet God has always been, in some ways, a God of delay. He could have made the world and everything in it instantly, but he took six days. He could have sent his Son immediately after the fall, but he delayed for four thousand years. He could have set the world completely right immediately after Jesus’ ascension, but he delays until this present day.

God has his reasons.

In the story of Lazarus’ resurrection recorded in John 11, we receive a glimpse into the story of the God who delays. Jesus’ close friends, Lazarus, Mary, and Martha, are in distress. Lazarus is ill to the point of death. Mary and Martha, Lazarus’ sisters, send word to Jesus about his friend’s condition with the obvious expectation that Jesus, who has healed complete strangers, will come and heal him. Jesus receives the message and waits two days before going. The way John records the story, Jesus waits because he loved them (Jn 11:5-6).

There are, no doubt, deep Scriptural themes running in the background of this personal story. Jesus waits two days and then, on the third day, he leaves to resurrect Lazarus from the dead. Third-day resurrection, connecting Lazarus to the themes of Scripture and Jesus’ own death and resurrection, is certainly theme music behind this scene. But Jesus isn’t merely ticking theological boxes, autistically fulfilling some sort of checklist. He delays because he loves them.

When he tells the disciples that Lazarus is dead, he follows it by saying, “and I am glad for your sakes that I was not there, that you may believe” (Jn 11:15). The disciples, the sisters, and the Jews who will later join in the scene all needed to see that Jesus is the resurrection and the life (Jn 11:25-26). Immediate relief from their distress merely to extend this mortal, old creation life was not what was best for them. They needed to know that Jesus is the Lord of death. Even though he delays, he has the power and will raise them from the dead. Jesus has eternity in mind.

We desire immediate relief from our distress. That is understandable. We know that much of what we suffer is that from which God has promised to one day deliver us. We know that death that rips us apart, tearing our bodies and spirits as well as separating us from others, is not God’s goal for us. It is an evil from which we want relief. But God delays, and he does so for a purpose. One reason God gives us the story of Lazarus is to teach us to trust him in the delay. He has not forgotten us. He doesn’t hate us. He is not enjoying watching us suffer. He loves us and has a purpose, a purpose we don’t understand completely at this time. But you can trust a God who entered our afflictions, took them upon himself, and was delivered from them through resurrection. His path will be our path. Resurrection follows suffering and death. Always

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Jesus ran into this problem with the Jews, no less, at the Feast of Dedication (Hanukkah), recorded by John (Jn 10:22-42). Jesus answers the two questions that John’s Gospel sets out to prove (Jn 20:30-31): 1) Is Jesus the Christ? and 2) Is Jesus God?

At the Feast of Dedication, anyone claiming to be the Christ would have expectations placed upon him set up by Judas Maccabeus. In 168 B.C., Antiochus IV, “Epiphanes,” conquered Jerusalem, outlawed Judaism, turned the Temple into a pagan temple, built an altar in it, and sacrificed a pig. In 164 B.C. Judas led an army of guerrilla warriors to expel Antiochus’s armies and rededicate/reconsecrate the Temple. The Jews crowned him king, and his family reigned for the next century. The Feast of Dedication was an eight-day feast of lights that celebrated (and still celebrates) this event.

This is what the king of Israel, the Christ, does. He will be a greater Judas Maccabeus who will throw off the yoke of Rome with military might. The Jews want Jesus to answer the question directly: Are you the Christ? (Jn 10:24).

Jesus told them that he had already told them; he told them when we spoke of himself being the good shepherd. He is the fulfillment of Ezekiel’s prophecy (Ezek 34:11-31). He is “David.”

But he is more than David. He is David’s Shepherd. He is Yahweh. He and the Father are one.

The Jews understand him to be saying that he is God, and they pick up stones to stone him. Jesus doesn’t correct them, saying, “You’ve got it all wrong, boys! I’m only a man. I meant that the Father and I are on the same page. That’s all.” No. He turns to his works, the signs he has been performing, and then appeals to Psalm 82. God, the one who inspired the Scripture that cannot be changed, called earthly judges “gods.” Elders of Israel are called “gods” (Ex 21:6; 22:7-8). Judges stand in God’s place, receive his name, his authority, and are to act as he acts. What do judges do? They deliver God’s people, just like all the judges in the book of Judges. What is Jesus doing? He is delivering God’s people. He is doing so at a more fundamental level as he breaks the power of sin and death, freeing, for example, a man from blindness (Jn 9). He is dealing with the root of the problem, but he is doing what God does.

Jesus is the fulfillment of the closing words of Psalm 82: “Arise, O God, and judge the earth, for you shall inherit all nations.” He arises as God to judge, and as the Christ, he inherits all nations (cf. Ps 2). Both questions are answered: 1) He is the Christ, and 2) he is God.

The Jews failed to see God for who he was because of the lies that they created in their minds about who God was. The same is true today. We imagine God to be what we want him to be. Voltaire is attributed the saying, “It is said that God made man in his image, and man returned the favor.” People fill “God” with whatever they want. He is the Hindu pantheon, Muslim Allah, the god of the Mormons, or simply a “higher power.” People act as if choosing a god is like walking into an ice cream shop and choosing a flavor: your flavor may be different from mine, but they are all ice cream. The problem is that if we create false images of the real God, we have created a lie. You may want to believe that God is Santa Claus, who never gives anyone coal in his stocking, or that he is a divine genie to give you what you wish. Then, when your god doesn’t come through, you become disillusioned with “religion,” becoming angry and bitter toward God.

We must stay humble before the Scriptures, seeking to understand God as he has revealed himself and not what we simply wish him to be. Only then will we know him truly and know his salvation

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Is it really that big of a deal in Scripture? Luke draws attention to the historical event of the Ascension of Christ at the end of his Gospel and the beginning of Acts, but I suppose we have to know the history of the resurrected Christ before the church received the Spirit. The Ascension only takes up a few verses in Scripture, right? Not really. The historical record of Jesus’ ascension is limited to a few passages, but many ascensions are fulfilled in Jesus’ ascension.

From the beginning, God’s plan for man was to ascend to rule the earth, replacing angelic rule. According to Psalm 8 as interpreted by Hebrews 2, man was created “for a little while” lower than the angels. Angels were tutors and guardians for man, assigned to lead him to maturity. One day, when the man matured and was able to handle the responsibility, he would rule over the angels, the principalities and powers, as Paul calls them in his epistles.

The angelic being assigned to the first man led the man and woman astray. Man fell short of the glory of the rule that God intended for him when he fell into sin (Rom 3:23). From that point forward, salvation meant ascension.

The story of the Ascension was prefigured in the “ascension offerings,” which are normally translated as “burnt offering” or “burnt sacrifice.” (The Hebrew word has nothing to do with “burning” or even “offering.” The word means “go up,” or “ascend.”) Ascension offerings predated the Tabernacle. Noah (Gen 8:20) and Abraham (Gen 22) offered ascensions. Moses told Pharaoh that the children of Israel were going into the wilderness to offer ascensions (Ex 10:25). Jethro, Moses’ father-in-law and Midianite priest, offered ascensions (Ex 18:12). Ascensions were codified in Leviticus, being the first offering prescribed, revealing something of the primacy of the offering as it, in some way, embodies all the other offerings. The bronze altar was the altar of ascensions (Ex 35:16; 38:1). The morning and evening offerings were ascensions (Ex 29:42). The worshiper ascending to God is salvation.

Every promise for God’s Son to rule the nations was a promise of ascension, and those promises are peppered throughout Scripture in direct statements as well as types and shadows. Jesus humbled himself and became obedient unto the death of the cross in order for the Father to exalt him (Phil 2:5-11). The immeasurable power that God has for his people was demonstrated in the resurrection of Christ and seating Christ at his right hand “far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the one to come” (Eph 1:20-21). Jesus was exalted above the angels and crowned with glory and honor (Heb 1—2). Jesus’ ascension to glory fulfilled the destiny of man. Ascension was the point of it all.

Jesus doesn’t ascend alone. He is our Ascension Offering. The cross was the beginning of his “lifting up,” his ascension (Jn 3:13-15). His blood was displayed, he was “skinned” (disrobed), and then he ascended from death to resurrection and then to the right hand of the Father. We who are united to him ascend with him to sit in heavenly places (Eph 2:6).

Our ascension with Christ means that we share authority in his mission, an authority that conquered sin and is able to shape the world after the fashion of heaven. This begins with ruling our own hearts and bodies and then extends to whatever God has put in our hands. We bring order where evil has created chaos. We bring life where sin has produced death. We do so because we sit in rule with the ascended Christ

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A better way to translate Jesus’ words in John 10 is that he is the Noble Shepherd. He is the faithful, courageous shepherd who does whatever it takes to protect and provide for his flock. What will deliver his sheep is his laying down his life for them. Through this act, he will provide the shed blood to open the door to communion with the Father. Even in submitting to death, Jesus is not the powerless, weak man overcome by stronger forces. He lays down his life. No man takes it from him. He has the authority to lay it down, and he has the authority to take it up again (Jn 10:17-18). He lays down his life and takes it up again in resurrection to destroy the wolves that attack his flock.

Jesus expects his undershepherds, the pastors of his church, to image his nobility. When Paul left the elders in Ephesus, he told them that wolves would rise outside the church and within it to attack God’s sheep (Ac 20:17-31). It was their responsibility to see that Jesus’ sheep were protected. They must be willing to give up their lives to do so. This may not mean being martyred for Christ (though it may), but it may mean being called “ungracious” by people within the church who believe that we can have wolves as pets or, at least, allies. A pastor must be willing to be hated by people in the area for calling out sin and correctively disciplining people who refuse to repent of sinful lifestyles. A pastor must fight the wolves who attack from without and within; these are the false teachers, seducers of society, as well as the inward sin that seeks to find justification within the church.

Just this past week, Sam Allberry’s alliance with wolves was revealed to be as dangerous as Jesus said it would be. Allberry defended Christians identifying themselves with their sin of same-sex attraction. Instead of condemning the desire as sinful in itself, as Paul does in Romans 1, he made every attempt to dress up this wolf like a sheep. Coddle the sin, but don’t give in to it. However, no matter how sophisticated his arguments were, in the end, the sin he coddled bit him. He befriended the wolf, shared his character, taught others to do so, and has done great damage to the flock of God.

Allberry is not the only one who does this. Anywhere a pastor tolerates sin to grow within the church, he is dancing with wolves. Wolves don’t play, at least not for long. They are dangerous. The pastor must be more dangerous, meeting them with greater force and killing them (cf. Col 3:5). He must do this because it is good for the sheep. It is what it means to be a noble shepherd

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The New King James Version (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1982), Ac 7:55–56.

Like Isaiah, Stephen is granted sight beyond the veil. He sees heavenly life before martyrdom. Isaiah sees the Lord enthroned and is commissioned to speak a word that will both reveal and judge. Stephen stands in that same line, but with greater clarity. Isaiah saw dimly, but Stephen sees sharply.

As the stones fall on him, perhaps stones that were sent from Saul himself, who presides over the execution, he sees “the heavens opened, and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God.” This is a courtroom reversal. Earth condemns, but Heaven renders the true verdict. Jesus stands because he is the true and faithful witness (see Rev. 1 & 4).

As James B. Jordan would note, Stephen is Isaiah intensified. The temple vision has given way to the enthroned Christ Himself. To echo Leithart, martyrdom is vindication. Christ stands to receive His witness. Stephen’s Bible narrative is vindicated by the ferocity of the demon-possessed Sanhedrin.

Stephen is the new Isaiah, but now the vision is fully opened, and the prophet-deacon is welcomed in.

Is it just my experience, or is society consumed with mental illiteracy? Either they can’t conjure up harmonious thoughts or can’t think harmoniously. If you are like me, after a few days without reading, you begin to feel a sharp pain right in the middle of your forehead… well, maybe I am exaggerating a bit. Of course,…

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This is nothing new, and it will not end with this generation. Jesus dealt with the Jewish leadership of his day, both official and unofficial, who were bad shepherds of God’s people. In John 10, on the heels of healing the blind man whom the leadership excommunicated, Jesus tells the leaders and the people how he has come as the true shepherd.

When Jesus speaks about sheep, shepherds, and sheepfolds, the minds of scholars and laymen alike go out to the fields where shepherds keep watch over their flocks by night. There is, of course, some reference to this, but Jesus’ words in John 10:1-5, John says, are a proverb or a parable (Jn 10:6). This means that this is a dark saying, difficult to understand. It is not an illustration.

The “sheepfold” in John 10:1 is literally the courtyard of the sheep. The word “courtyard” is never used to speak about a sheep pen or corral out in the field. It is used throughout the Scriptures to speak of the courtyards of the Tabernacle, Temple, and other palaces. The courtyard of the sheep is the Temple.

The door of which Jesus speaks is the door of the Temple, the place where animals’ blood is shed so that the worshiper may have his sins forgiven and the way open for him to commune with God. When Jesus says, “I am the door,” he is saying that he is the place of sacrifice, the place where blood will be shed so that the way to communion with God will be open.

The evil shepherds who have come before him, which included priests, judges, kings, self-proclaimed Messiahs, and the present rulers in Israel, were all thieves and brigands who tried to avoid the door, the way of sacrifice, and enter another way. They are the evil shepherds spoken of by Ezekiel (Ezek 34), Jeremiah (Jer 23:1-3), and Zechariah (Zech 11). They didn’t minister to people at the Temple, instructing them in God’s law, providing sacrifice for the assurance of forgiveness, and communion with God. They fleeced God’s people, stealing what belonged to God.

Jesus has come as the new Temple. He will provide the abundant life (Jn 10:10) promised in the Scriptures.

Jesus is the Chief Shepherd (1Pt 5:4) who expects his undershepherds to image him and shepherd the flock of God (1Pt 5:1-3). While many people have all sorts of expectations of what a pastor, a shepherd, should be and do, Jesus’ Temple context is informative as to how shepherding or pastoring primarily takes place. The sheep need to be led and fed primarily in worship. The sheep need to hear that their sins are forgiven, given instruction in God’s word, and fed the Lord’s Supper. This is the place where their souls are healed. They don’t find this unique healing through reading books or listening to podcasts. This healing can only take place in the context of this worship. There are many other things that a pastor may do depending on his situation, gifts, and opportunities, but leading in worship around Word and Sacrament is the fundamental imperative for every pastor, and he is to give himself to it because it is necessary for the life of Jesus’ sheep

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Among evangelicals, there has long existed a vague unanimity that polygamy was wrong. There was a hazy notion of the varied examples of it in Scripture, but it was nothing more than a preposterous proposition. If one wife is a tantalizing riddle, what must 1000 wives be?

In Scripture, polygamy is more than an accidental misfortune of exceptional times. It’s more than solemn foolery. It’s more than mere dregs of melodramatic or connubial visions. The polygamy of one kind was a type of another kind, and in this way, it’s a bigger part of the story than one would think. It was Israel’s growing and ongoing practice of polygamy that beggared and enslaved them to the high places of the gods. But we are running ahead. We’ll demonstrate these conclusions in due course.

Before exploring what the Bible says about the subject, we must establish the standard against which everything is measured. This takes us to a time before Sinai, to a time before the Fall. Genesis 2:24 says, “Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh.” The grammar is singular throughout. “A man,” not men. “His wife,” not wives. Interestingly, the Hebrew word echad, translated as one, is also part of the Shema. Just like “the Lord our God, the Lord is one” (Dt. 6:4), so too is marriage where two become one. The oneness of marriage relates to the oneness of God, and as we will see, it points forward to the exclusive covenant between Christ and the Church (Eph. 5:31-32). With that baseline, we are prepared to conduct a biblical survey of polygamy.

Old Testament Survey of Polygamy

The first reference to polygamy is when Lamech, the descendant of Cain, takes two wives, Adah and Zillah. Lamech is a man of violence (Gen. 4:23) who intentionally takes after his ancestor, Cain (Gen. 4:24). So, polygamy enters the biblical story through the chronicle of a killer. There is no moral footnote that spells it out: “Lamech’s polygamy was wrong.” That would be too obvious. The embedded actions of a wicked loggerhead in a narrative context point to a leitmotif that polygamy is always a miasmic event.

The narrative of the Patriarchs is more complicated. Abraham took a wife named Sarai, who then proceeded to give her Egyptian servant, Hagar, to Abraham “as a wife” (Gen. 16:3). One would hope that was the end of the flummery. But, alas, Abraham’s grandson, Jacob, was deceived into marrying the wrong woman, Leah. So he works another seven years to marry the right woman, Rachel (Gen. 29:15-30). Troubles mount in the household of multiple wives. Leah gives birth, but Jacob’s beloved, Rachel, is barren. So, Rachel gives her servant Bilhah to Jacob as a wife, and she bears Dan and Naphtali (Gen. 30:1-8) on Rachel’s behalf. Not to be one-upped, Leah gives her servant Zilpah to Jacob, and she bears Gad and Asher (Gen. 30:9-13) on Leah’s behalf.

Abraham’s other grandson, Esau, takes multiple wives, Judith and Basemath, both Hittites (Gen. 26:34), and Mahalath, the daughter of Ishmael (Gen. 28:9). Esau’s other wives are mentioned in Genesis 36:1-5. They are named Adah, a Hittite, and Oholibamah, a Hivite.

Here we have Abraham and Jacob, the heroes of the faith, practicing polygamy. God blessed the Patriarchs throughout their lives. Does that mean God was blessing polygamy? Reflecting on the Patriarchal narratives, polygamy does not emerge as the happy bliss of moral purity. Abraham’s marriage of Hagar is about rivalry (Gen. 21:9), expulsion (Gen. 21:10), displeasure (Gen. 21:11), and tears (Gen. 21:16). Jacob’s marriage to two sisters, and then the sister’s servants, is marked by envy (Gen. 29:26, 30; Gen. 30:1), hatred (Ge. 29:31), rivalry (Gen. 29:34; 30:8), anger (Gen. 30:2), and manipulation (Gen. 30:14-17). And all this strife carried into the relationship of Jacob’s children. Remember that Joseph was nearly murdered by his brothers. This is a dysfunctional polygamous household. The lesson is plain: When the creational norm is violated, sin is multiplied.

Then comes the Mosaic Law. Deuteronomy 17:17 restricts kings from having multiple wives. Deuteronomy 21:15-17 regulates a situation where a man finds himself married to two women, one he loves and one he doesn’t love. If the unloved wife bears his firstborn son, he may not deprive the firstborn son of his inheritance. This law assumes polygamy has been occurring and sets out to govern it, without explicitly endorsing it. In Deuteronomy 25:5-10, a man must marry his dead brother’s wife if they all dwelled together. The regulation is silent on whether this applies even if the brother was already married. Leviticus 18:18 says, “And you shall not take a woman as a rival wife to her sister, uncovering her nakedness while her sister is still alive.” Notice the problem with polygamy. It invites rivalry into the household, something that is true whether the wives are sisters or not, as 1 Samuel 1:1-8 illustrates. In other words, a bad wife is better than a good haraam.

It wouldn’t be right to conclude that the Mosaic law approves of polygamy. God’s law regulates it, which is different from supporting it. Just like God regulates divorce without approving of it (Dt. 24; Mt. 19:8), God establishes guardrails to protect the vulnerable within the pestiferous situation of polygamy. Providing merciful protections within the muddle is hardly a blueprint for a faultless design. It’s revealing that the king is forbidden from marrying multiple wives (Dt. 17:17). He is supposed to be the leader, the model that the people follow.

The historical books provide several more examples of polygamy. In Judges 8:29-32, Gideon has two names and many wives. When he is called Jerubbaal, the son of Joash, in Judges 8:29, he lives in his own house rather than a palace. He is resisting Baal by resisting the tendency to become a totalitarian king. But when he is called Gideon in Judges 8:30, he has 70 sons. In Scripture, the number 70 points to the nations of the world (Genesis 10; Judges 1:7), and Gideon’s 70 sons come from his many wives.

In Judges 10 – 12, polygamy is implied by the description of fecundity attributed to Jair the Gileadite (Judges 10:3f); Ibzan of Bethlehem (Judges 12:8f), and Abdon (Judges 12:13f). These leaders of Israel operated above the law, ignoring God’s disapproval of polygamy. It’s after the failure of the Judges that God’s people wish for a king. But their first monarch, Saul, takes a concubine (2 Sam. 3:7) and foreshadows the royal polygamy that plagues Israel’s future.

The royal history of Israel is where polygamy reaches catastrophic levels. David accumulates many wives and concubines (1 Sam. 18:27; 25:42f; 2 Sam. 3:2-5; 5:13; 11-12). David also receives Saul’s wives. Second Samuel 12:7-8 explains, “Nathan said to David, ‘You are the man! Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel, ‘I anointed you king over Israel, and I delivered you out of the hand of Saul. ⁸ And I gave you your master’s house and your master’s wives into your arms and gave you the house of Israel and of Judah. And if this were too little, I would add to you as much more.’” Nathan goes on to prophesy that these wives would be the source of David’s humiliation (2 Sam. 12:11f). Indeed, David’s polygamous household is an unhappy disaster followed by Amnon’s rape of Tamar (2 Sam. 13:1-22), Absalom’s murder of Amnon (2 Sam. 13:23-33), Absalom’s rebellion (2 Sam. 15:1-18:33), and the violation of the ten concubines on the rooftop (1 Sam. 16:21f).

The apex of royal polygamy is Solomon, taking 700 wives and 300 concubines. His wives turn his heart to other gods (1 Kings 11:1-8), just like Deuteronomy 17:17 predicted. This is the part of the story where polygamy is directly linked to apostasy and the destruction of Israel. Here is a man who seemed to have it all: A Temple that was the wonder of the ancient world, the inherited promises of David, and legendary wisdom. But his sublime life is brought to ruin by multiplying wives.

Solomon, like Adam, failed in his marriage duties. Adam failed in the garden when he listened to his wife rather than God. Solomon failed in the palace when he listened to his many wives rather than God. And not just many wives. 700 plus 300. 1000 represents totality and completeness. God’s promises were to a thousand generations (Dt. 7:9), his blessings were the cattle on a thousand hills (Ps. 50:10), and divine time means one thousand years are but as a day (Ps. 90:4). God’s total covenant fulfillment comes by the thousands. Solomon’s complete covenant corruption, likewise, came by the thousands.

But the pattern continues. Rehoboam had eighteen wives and sixty concubines (2 Chron. 11:18-23), Abijah took fourteen wives (2 Chron. 13:21), and Jehoram had multiple wives (2 Chron. 21:14, 17). Jehoida the priest, the guy who should know better, arranged Joash’s polygamy (2 Chron. 24:3). Caleb (1 Chron. 2:18f, 46ff), Shaharaim (1 Chron. 8:8-11), and Jerahmeel (1 Chron. 2:26) also had multiple wives.

The polygamy of Saul, then David, then Solomon, then all the rest of the kings, was in direct violation of God’s law forbidding kings from marrying multiple wives (Dt. 17:17). This is the story of the fracture of the kingdom. When the United Monarchy was shattered like a windshield, polygamy was the little rock that turned a little indention into a series of cracks.

The wisdom and prophetic books imply that monogamy is normative. Proverbs 5 and 31 don’t explicitly mention polygamy, but set forth the vision for the ideal wife and the faithful husband. The Song of Solomon, in an irony worthy only of Solomon, elevates the singular bride above the attractions of sixty queens and eighty concubines (Song of Solomon 6:8-9). That is the Solomon way, to say things that incriminate your own life, but advocate God’s wisdom. Ezekiel 23 is an allegory in which two sisters, Oholah and Oholibah, are portrayed as the two wives of God, Samaria and Jerusalem. Ezekiel uses polygamy not as a model, but to illustrate the unfaithfulness of God’s people, in that both wives are unfaithful. Even in metaphor, polygamy leads to condemnation.

How will Israel heal from their disobedient history of polygamy? Malachi 2:14-15 calls for fidelity in marriage, emphasizing the oneness of marriage, “The Lord was witness between you and the wife of your youth, to whom you have been faithless, though she is your companion and your wife by covenant. ¹⁵ Did he not make them one, with a portion of the Spirit in their union? And what was the one God seeking? Godly offspring. So guard yourselves in your spirit, and let none of you be faithless to the wife of your youth.” The prophet is calling Israel back to the creational norm. In all the Old Testament examples, polygamy never works out to a happy conclusion.

New Testament Survey of Polygamy

The New Testament provides sweeping clarification on God’s expectations for monogamous marriage. This starts in Matthew 19:3-12, when the Pharisees ask Jesus about divorce. Jesus answers, “Have you not read that he who created them from the beginning made them male and female, and said, ‘Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh’? So they are no longer two but one flesh. What therefore God has joined together, let not man separate” (Mt. 19:4-6). Jesus is saying that the foundational understanding of marriage predates the Mosaic law. Two become one. It’s not that three or four become one. For two to become one means that no third party can enter the marriage. This is God’s design “from the beginning.” Jesus’ hermeneutics clarifies that the creation order for marriage supersedes any accommodation that might be derived from the Old Testament.

Elsewhere, Jesus further clarifies that God’s intention for marriage is one man and one woman for one lifetime. To marry another is to commit adultery (Lk. 16:18). The marriage covenant requires exclusive devotion, so much so that if a husband even looks at another woman with lustful intent, he has committed adultery in his heart (Mt. 5:27-32).

The Apostle Paul teaches that “Each man should have his own wife and each woman her own husband” (1 Cor. 7:2). “Wife,” not wives. “His own wife,” not a wife among others. The husband “gives his wife her conjugal rights” (1 Cor. 7:3). The husband doesn’t have authority over his own body any more than the wife does (1 Cor. 7:4). This mutual conjugal duty is incompatible with polygamy. The binding between the husband and wife is singular and exclusive until death (1 Cor. 7:39). All of Paul’s teachings on marriage are an extension of Jesus’ teaching on the subject (1 Cor. 7:10f).

In Romans 7:1-3, Paul uses marriage to illustrate the gospel principle of freedom from the law. At the center of this illustration are two remarriage scenarios, both found in Romans 7:3. The first scenario is that if a married woman goes on to live with another man while her first husband still lives, she is called an adulteress. The second scenario is that if a married woman’s husband dies and she marries another man, she is not called an adulteress. How is it that one remarriage would make her an adulteress while the other would not? What has made the difference? In the first scenario, the married woman goes on to live with another man while her first husband is still living. In this scenario, she is called an adulteress. Why? Because she is still bound by law to her husband. In the second scenario, the married woman’s husband dies, and she marries another man. In this scenario, she is not called an adulteress. Why? Because she is released from the law of marriage that bound her to her husband, who is now dead. Paul’s teaching only makes sense if marriage is exclusively singular.

In Ephesians 5:22-33, we learn the penultimate reason God designed marriage as a monogamous institution. “Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her... ‘Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.’ This mystery is profound, and I am saying that it refers to Christ and the church” (Eph. 5:25, 31-32). Notice two things. First, like Christ, Paul roots marriage in Genesis 2:24, where two become one. Second, the mystery of the one-flesh union refers to Christ and the church. So, why did God make monogamous marriage an essential civilizational institution? It is a parable pointing to the exclusive, self-giving, singular love of Christ for his Bride. Indeed, the new creation is structured as a marriage (Rev. 21:2,9). For the bride’s part, she must not have relationships with the other gods (2 Cor. 11:2). For Christ’s part, he does not have multiple brides. There is one Lamb and one Bride (Rev. 19:6-9; 21:2, 9). The sign of marriage must correspond to the reality it signifies.

In Galatians 4:21-31, Paul uses Abraham’s two wives, Hagar and Sarah, as an allegory of two covenants. Hagar, the slave wife, represents flesh (Gal. 4:23), Mount Sinai (Gal. 4:25), and slavery (Gal 4:25). Sarah, the free wife, represents “the Jerusalem above” (Gal. 4:26), promise (Gal. 4:23, 28), and freedom (Gal. 4:26, 30f). Paul is not endorsing polygamy. He is using it typologically, deriving theological lessons to persuade God’s people to leave behind the slave wife.

In 1 Timothy, Paul requires an elder to be “the husband of one wife” (1 Tim. 3:2). He must be a one-woman man, not a polygamist, among other things. Deacons must likewise “be the husband of one wife” (1 Tim. 3:12). The pattern for leaders in the church is that they practice monogamy (Titus 1:6). This reflects the creational norm. The people of the church are expected to follow the example of their leaders. In 1 Timothy 5:9, it’s not just elders and deacons that should practice monogamy, but also widows. Only if she were a one-man woman could she enroll in the church’s care.

In sum, the New Testament is consistent. Monogamy is God’s norm for marriage. Polygamy is never treated neutrally, it is never endorsed, and it is never accommodated. When the Westminster Confession of Faith (24.1) states that marriage is to be “between one man and one woman,” it reflects the Bible’s rejection of polygamy and the church’s conviction on the subject for two thousand years.

Spiritual Polygamy

The Bible’s distinction between marital and spiritual polygamy reveals that they are quite the same, even when they are assumed to be different. When Solomon accumulated wives, he accumulated gods. The body trains the soul, and in Solomon’s case, his marital polygamy trained his soul for spiritual polygamy. But it’s not that the two phenomena are analogous. It’s that marital polygamy is a mechanism that generates spiritual polygamy (1 Kings 11:1-8). This is seen, first, not with Solomon, but with Jacob, whose polygamous household included foreign gods (Gen. 31:19) that needed to be purified (Gen. 35:2-4). Surely it’s no coincidence that the word that is used for sexual unfaithfulness in Genesis 38:24 is also the word used for spiritual idolatry in Exodus 34:15-16.[1]

This would then mean that marital monogamy as the norm of society is supposed to train people to spiritual monogamy to the One True God. God’s marriage to Israel is that of exclusive devotion (Ex. 34:14-16). The warning against idolatry is that Israel must not “whore after their gods.” So, it’s not just that God is jealous, it’s that God, as Israel’s husband (Jer. 3:14), has spousal jealousy for Israel.

God commands Hosea to marry a promiscuous woman, Gomer. Why? To provide a living lesson of Israel’s spiritual condition (Hos. 1:2; 2:5, 13). It’s not just Solomon now who is compromised. It’s all of Israel. Israel had taken spiritual lovers when they worshipped the gods at the high places. Gomer’s serial unfaithfulness effectively multiplies her husbands, and this mirrors Israel’s actions. Jeremiah warned Israel to no longer play the whore (Jer. 3:6-10). The creational norm of one man, one woman, one flesh, for one lifetime, is not just a pattern for human marriage. It is the pattern for God’s covenant relationship with his people.

The good news is that there is hope for the unfaithful bride. Hosea 2:16, 20 says, “And in that day, declares the LORD, you will call me ‘My Husband’... I will betroth you to me forever. I will betroth you to me in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love and in mercy.” Even after indicting Jerusalem’s whoredom, God says, “I will remember my covenant with you in the days of your youth, and I will establish for you an everlasting covenant …. That you may remember and be confounded, and never open your mouth against because of your shame, when I atone for all that you have done” (Ez. 16:60, 63).

Israel’s kings were unfaithful and polygamous. Israel needed the One True King. Jesus Christ is the one faithful husband Israel never had in their kings. The church is the singular bride, a new nation drawn from every nation (1 Pt. 2:9; Rev. 5:9). They used to sleep with the harlot in search of a god (1 Cor. 6:12-20). But they repented of their false gods (Ezek. 14:6; 1 Thess. 1:9) and underwent the purifying fire of Christ’s holiness (1 Pt. 1:7), reconciled to Christ by his death (Col. 1:22), made ready for the wedding feast (Rev. 19:7f).

Conclusion

Why does this matter? It’s not only that the church’s marital practices train their spiritual ones. It’s also that polygamy may be the next cultural move to outflank and destroy God’s design for marriage. Finding biblical clarity on the subject of polygamy is far more relevant than it appears on the surface.

The 2015 Obergefell decision redefined marriage. Each individual, wholly apart from all others, was declared free and equal, independent and separate, each with his own right, irrespective of the Bible, the city, the society, the common concern, or the needs of children. The right is concentrated on personal desire as both the means and the end of marriage. This new right redefines marriage in the name of adult equality and pleasure. In other words, Obergefell transformed marriage into a vehicle for adult fulfillment. If marriage is about individual sexual desire, no matter how perverted, then marriage is fundamentally about what makes individuals happy. If this is the ground of marriage, not only will they remove the complementarity of marriage, but they will also remove the monogamy requirement of marriage as superannuated thinking. The church must be theologically clear-headed to face down the oncoming challenges.

_{Jason Cherry is an elder at Trinity Reformed Church in Huntsville, Alabama, as well as a teacher and lecturer of literature, history, and economics at Providence Classical School in Huntsville. He graduated from Reformed Theological Seminary with an MA in Religion and is the author of the book The Culture of Conversionism and the History of the Altar Call and the book The Making of Evangelical Spirituality (Wipf and Stock).}

[1] See also Dt. 31:16 and Judges 2:17.

The old Moral Majority, for all its energy and influence, mistook the fruit for the root; it sought cultural transformation without sufficiently grounding that transformation in the ecclesia. But if Church and worship are disoriented, society loses its capacity to function with any real order. The answer to our cultural decay is not first political; it is ecclesiastical.

The Church is not an accessory to public life; she is the genesis of a moral vocabulary shaped by the Sacred Scriptures. Without her, we do not merely lose transcendence; we lose definition. If we no longer know what a woman is, it is because the Church has failed to catechize the world in the grammar of creation. That failure is not accidental; it is theological, liturgical, and ecclesial.

For too long, the Church has played nice; she has sought to minimize offense and, in doing so, has forfeited her voice. When asked whether we are too polarized, the instinct is to lament division, but the deeper problem is that we are not polarized enough. The Church has refused to show up for the family portrait. Instead, she has become the distant relative, present at formal ceremonies and absent from formation. Yet she must be present; not merely present, but central in the formation of the culture around us.

The Idol of Individualism and the Silence of the Church

A new moral majority will not emerge from think tanks or campaign platforms; it will emerge from pulpits and tables, from Word and Sacrament, from a people shaped week after week by the rhythms of worship. The Church is the paradigmatic institution; she does not borrow her authority from the state, rather the state borrows its legitimacy from a moral order that the Church proclaims.

The great obstacle to this vision is not first external opposition; it is internal corruption. The modern Church has been catechized by individualism; this spirit has turned her inward, privatized her mission, and reduced her to a therapeutic community of self-expression. And as Carl Trueman has observed, “the modern self assumes the authority of inner feelings to define what is real.” That is the social imaginary in its purest form; a world in which identity is no longer received from God but constructed from within. When the Church refuses to confront that assumption, she quietly baptizes it.

In this social imaginary, the self becomes the arbiter of truth; reality is no longer received, it is constructed. The Church, instead of confronting this rebellion, has often accommodated it. She has embraced a navel-gazing pietism and mistaken introspection for holiness. But a Church that does not speak to the nations is a Church that has forgotten her calling.

This was made clear in recent years. When crisis came, many churches relinquished the corporeal necessity of worship; they traded the gathered assembly for digital substitutes. The result was predictable; a de-churched Church. When liturgical bones are not exercised, they atrophy; when the Church ceases to practice her story, she forgets who she is (see my essay in “Failed Church” edited by Andrew Sandlin).

What followed was not neutrality; it was silence. And that silence bore fruit; instead of forming a people resistant to tyranny, many churches surrendered their sacred time and their sacred practices. The consequence is a Church unsure of her authority and hesitant in her witness.

The Rise of an Ecclesial Majority

A new moral majority must begin with a renewed commitment to worship; the first day of the week must again become central for the formation of political thinking and cultural engagement. Before we are citizens, we are worshipers; before we engage the public square, we ascend the heavenly one.

Ecclesial conservatism begins here; we think first as churchmen and only then as citizens. Our loyalty is first as worshipers; the political flows from the liturgical, not the reverse. We refuse to place the civic calendar above the Christian calendar; we will not allow the flag to eclipse the cross or the pledges of men to replace the creeds of the Church.

This vision restores prayer to its rightful place; not as a sentimental or even pietistic way of approaching God, but as action. The Church must pray for her leaders as Scripture commands; not as a formality, but as a means of shaping reality. Prayer is not withdrawal. At the very center, it is engagement at the deepest level.

Further, this ecclesial majority does not flee politics; it redeems it. It rejects the secularism that divorces faith from public life and the reductionism that makes politics ultimate. This is not a call to revolution by arms; it is a call to revolution by armor. The Church advances through worship, hospitality, feasting, and faithfulness; she forms a people whose life together embodies an alternative society, a foretaste of the kingdom of heaven.

The public square is indeed a battleground of the gods, but Christians have too often entered that battlefield unarmed, having neglected the very means by which God forms his people. The result has been confusion, compromise, and defeat. What we need, then, is not merely a louder conservative movement; we need a holier Church. Not merely a stronger voting bloc, but a stronger ecclesia. Not merely a moral majority, but a moral-moral majority, a people whose morality is not borrowed from tradition alone, but generated from the living worship of the Triune God.

The Church must once again become the beating heart of cultural renewal; she must sing again with angels and archangels, proclaim again the unchanging Word, and gather again as the visible society of God’s redeemed people.

Only then will a true moral majority emerge: not as a political accident, but as the inevitable fruit of a faithful Church.

Recently, I was invited by Reformed Evangelical Seminary to join Rich Lusk, Aaron Reen, and C. R. Wiley in a roundtable discussion concerning masculinity and the pastoral ministy. Below are the notes from my opening presentation.

Pastoral Leadership: Being Male Is Not Enough

I believe that all of us here agree that the office of pastor is a male-only office. There are reasons for that to which I will make reference later. However, being male is not enough. We need masculine pastors. Churches need the masculine presence to reduce the chronic anxiety that fills the air in our society and lead them in a positive direction.

Being masculine is not the boisterous machismo that you see from many online personalities who must always tell everyone how masculine they are. If you are masculine, you won’t need to tell everyone that you are.

There is a scene in the movie City Slickers (1991) in which the city boys are sitting around the fire talking about riding out with Curly, the leather-skinned cowboy played by Jack Palance, who had made his appearance earlier that day. Some are frightened to go with him on the cattle drive. Ed speaks about him with awe and says that he is “one of the last real men,” an “untamed mustang,” compared to this group of “trained ponies.” Curly is not the perfect man, to be sure, but he had a masculine presence that provoked immediate respect and either drove the fearful away or inspired others to be better, all the while making the lone woman in the group feel safe.

A masculine presence is not a technique. It is character, and it is a character we desperately need to lead churches.

This character can be and must be developed in men who desire to be pastors.

These principles can and do apply to all areas of leadership in the home, in the workplace, and in society. However, I will focus on the ecclesiastical necessity.

Without masculine leadership in a church, chronic anxiety will rule and destroy a congregation.

Some of you might be familiar with the phrase “chronic anxiety” from Edwin Friedman’s book The Failure of Nerve or from Joe Rigney’s more biblical framing of Friedman in Leadership and Emotional Sabotage.

This is the flammable atmosphere in the room that will explode when someone strikes a match, and the match-striker is always blamed.

Friedman describes chronic anxiety in an organization as having five characteristics (which I can’t describe in detail here): reactivity, herding, blame displacement, a quick-fix mentality, and lack of self-differentiated leadership.

Reactivity – people are highly reactive and have lost a sense of playfulness.

Herding – everyone adapts to the most dysfunctional member(s), always accommodating and walking on eggshells.

Blame Displacement – Becoming victims instead of taking responsibility for one’s own well-being; my problem is that “you weren’t there for me.”

Quick-fix mentality – consistently seeking symptom relief instead of doing the long, hard work of fundamentally changing.

Lack of self-differentiated leadership – this is the failure of nerve that contributes to and perpetuates the first four.

This last one is where the masculine presence comes in.

Why is this masculine presence in leadership needed to dispel the chronic anxiety?

The answers are rooted in our creation, the way and purpose for which we are created.

The epitome of masculine leadership is Jesus himself, the faithful Adam.

Leadership: The Masculine Responsibility

Paul speaks of the manner in which we were created and the order of our creation as male and female as defining our purpose and the hierarchy of creation.

1 Tim 2:11-15 – man is created first, so he is the one to be leading worship and not women.

1 Cor 11 – the woman was made for man, not the man for the woman. Neither is independent of the other, but there is a hierarchy built into our creation.

The cosmos is patriarchal. That is the way God created and sustains it.

The word “patriarchy” has fallen into disfavor, and some may want to abandon it.

With the abuses that some of us have seen with a tyrannical patriarchalism, our tendency is to throw the patriarchal baby out with the masculine bathwater.

We simply want to be complementarian … and thin complementarians at that … bordering on egalitarianism.

But we shouldn’t be so quick to abandon patriarchy. In fact, we can’t.

I wouldn’t get into a fight over words, but patriarch is a fine word to use. I would even argue that it is a biblical word.

When Paul says in Ephesians 3.14 that he bows his knees to the Father, pathr, from whom every family, patria (a derivative of pathr), in heaven and earth is named, he is, among other things, indicating that the world is patriarchal.

Every family is not a mhthr.

The world and every family in it derive their origin and are under the authority of the Father, the Patriarch, and the families, households as well as nations, fatherlands, image that fatherhood.

The father is their source and their authority.

When Peter quotes the promise given to Abraham in Genesis 12, “In you all the families of the earth shall be blessed” (Ac 3.25), he uses the same word Paul uses in Ephesians 3.14.

That promise given to Abraham in Genesis 12 is restated with a variation in Genesis 18 and 22: the nations are blessed in Abraham.

I don’t believe that these are at odds. Nations are extended families. The table of nations in Genesis 10 is a family lineage.

The place from which we hail is our fatherland.

Families and nations are named by him, taking on his name of “Father.”

So, patriarchy is a perfectly acceptable to describe the structure the created order.

God created the man to be the primary ruler of the home, church, and society.

The woman’s role includes rule with the man, but that rule is not the same kind and is derivative from and subordinate to the man.

We see this in the two Adams. Though the woman is included in the name “Adam,” Adam was Adam before the creation of the woman, having the responsibility for the mission God gave him.

He wasn’t glorified Adam, but he was Adam, nevertheless.

When the woman was created, though she was distinct, she was given his name in order to join and help him with the mission God gave to him.

They have a responsibility of dominion, but it is the man’s responsibility in a way that it is not the woman’s.

Christ Jesus, the second Adam, is the man who takes up the responsibility with the authority in a way that the church never could.

The church has a responsibility with Christ, but we are not equal to Christ.

We can’t say, “The Church is Lord” in the same way that we say, “Jesus is Lord.”

The world is patriarchal.

This is embodied primarily in males being responsible for the mission of dominion in the world, not only in the church, but in the family and in societies.

The patriarchy is male responsibility. When Paul says, for example, that the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, these are not arbitrary roles or thin types.

They are not merely superficial “roles” assigned to males that could just as well be handled by females, only held back by a bald prohibition by God.

Patriarchy is reality. This is why the structures that Feminism desires will never work.

You can defy reality, but you can never destroy it. It will destroy you if you fight it because reality is rooted in the immutable character of God himself.

Working with the grain of reality means men owning the leadership responsibility given to them.

To sum up, men are called to lead. Women are called to help.

Men are called to initiate. Women are called to respond and complete or glorify.

Men advance and take the land, setting up and protecting walls/boundaries. Women work within those garden-lands, making them beautiful.

This is not only true in marriage, but it is true throughout societies. Where it is ignored, we do so to our peril.

While masculine leadership is the standard throughout out all societal structures as embodied in this archetypal relationship, something that we can tease out through doing biblical theology, masculine leadership in the sanctuary is not something we have to tease out (even though we do need to consider the setting).

The Garden was a sanctuary; the place where God would meet with man at the trees that were in the midst of the Garden.

The fruit of those trees was sacramental fruit, the Tree of Life being the fundamental sacrament given to man.

Before the woman was created, God created the man, gave him the mission of dominion, planted the garden, gave him access to the Tree of Life, forbad the TKGE, and told him to work and guard the Garden.

After this (remember order is important), God created the woman to be his helper; to help him complete his mission.

Because she is created in the Garden, she becomes a part of the Garden ministry he is to work, guard, and make fruitful. His leadership is for her as well as the rest of creation.

She and the world need this masculine leadership.

That masculine leadership is summarized in the two duties given to man before the woman was created: work and guard the garden.

Masculine leadership covers much more than one can put in a simple dictionary definition.

Work and guard assume many strengths and skills that need to be developed and are expansive to the whole of what it means to be a man.

Recognizing these limitations, I will summarize masculine leadership as the responsibility coupled with the authority to protect and provide for the feminine so that she can have the safety and provision that she needs to help him complete his mission.

He glorifies her through protection and provision, and she glorifies him through glorifying what he gives her.

Interestingly, the feminine is both the dirt from which the man comes, the earth, adamah, as well as the woman who is created to be his helper.

Adam is a husbandman to the earth and to the woman. He provides for and protects both so that they can help him bring his mission to completion.

Masculine leadership provides direction and purpose. This is done archetypically in creation and then Christ giving his church the commission to disciple the nations.

Masculine leadership equips with resources.

Christ provides the church with the Spirit as well as the gift of pastors and teachers who empower and equip the saints for the work of the ministry, respectively.

These masculine responsibilities to the work-and-guard Garden ministry are made later as the Levites are given this same charge with regard to the Tabernacle, the new post-fall Garden, complete with trees and cherubim.

“Work and guard” are the priestly ministry. The same two commands given to Adam in Genesis 2.15 are repeated concerning the Levites in Numbers 3.5-10.

Adam is a priest in the sanctuary.

One of the priest’s duties is to teach.

Adam, having received the word, was to teach his wife about everything, including the trees.

When it was time, Adam would give the fruit of the tree to his wife; he was responsible for the sacramental ministry to his wife.

Masculine leadership in the sanctuary is God’s plan from the beginning, and it is something that has held true through the years of our history until today.

Just as in the beginning, when all this was reversed in the fall, and the woman takes the sacramental fruit and gives it to the man, assuming his role, bringing chaos and destruction, so it is still today when women take the lead, especially in the sanctuary.

This order of creation defines the nature of masculine-feminine, male-female relationships.

We are oriented to one another in terms of God’s created order.

The man is created to lead, to be a protector and provider, and the woman is oriented to the man so that she needs his masculine protection and provision, whether she wants to believe it or not (or whether he wants to believe it or not).

She is able to fulfill her purpose when the man fulfills his.

She is created with this need for masculine leadership, and when it is not present, you guessed it, it creates anxiety.

The relationship between the pastor (and the elders who share some of his ministry) and congregation is a masculine-feminine relationship.

What might get confusing here is that the church is made up of men as well as women, yet, as a whole, the church is feminine.

This is because masculine-feminine relationships are not always male-female relationships.

While the masculine-feminine relationship is derived from the archetypal relationships between the man and the woman, masculine-feminine relationships can also be between those of the same sex or even females taking a masculine role and males taking a feminine role.

For instance, when Paul speaks about the relationship between the Father and Christ in 1Cor 11, he uses this as an analogy of the authority structure between the man and the woman in the church.

Moses stands in a masculine relationship to Joshua as his deacon, who occupies the feminine.

A General stands as masculine to the feminine Colonel in the military.

A mother stands in a masculine relationship to her minor son, who is to obey her.

Pastors are in a masculine relationship to the church as a whole, even though there are many males within the church.

Pastors also stand in a masculine relationship to the feminine elders and deacons though they are males.

While all masculine-feminine relationships aren’t male-female relationships, all masculine-feminine relationships are derived from the original male-female relationship.

Consequently, the need for masculine leadership relies upon males.

Women are derivative from and oriented to the man.

So, for instance, in a home, the woman is better able to exhibit a masculine presence with her children when her husband is providing her with masculine leadership.

She is less anxious because she is safe with him. This provides her the ability to be a better mother to her children.

So, while women may occupy masculine roles in some relationships, they are still dependent upon men giving them what they need to do so.

When men don’t fulfill their responsibilities, women are burdened in ways that they were not created to bear.

As pastors, we are stand-ins for Christ to the congregation, his representatives.

We have a responsibility to lead, teach, provide, and protect, or to put it succinctly, “shepherd the flock of God” (1Pt 5).

Good leadership doesn’t always mean that the woman will respond faithfully.

If YHWH’s bride didn’t respond faithfully to him always, should we expect that she will always respond to his representatives faithfully?

Our responsibility is to provide everything God has called us to provide so that the “woman” has all the gifts that she needs to do what she is called to do.

Whether the congregation admits it or not, they do need and look to the pastor for leadership.

Sometimes we get confused about this because of the way they act toward us, always pushing us.

Well, this is understandable at one level.

In the beginning, the woman was “thrown under the bus” by the man who refused to lead.

Since that time, she has been anxious about his leadership; whether or not he has the strength and fortitude to lead.

If the serpent comes, will he just hand me over to him?

Occasionally, sometimes consciously, sometimes unconsciously, she will test the husband, challenging him to see if he has the resolve to stand up to her and tell her, “No, you may not do that.”

If he doesn’t, she loses respect for him and trust in his leadership. If he can’t stand up to her to do what is right, why should she expect him to stand up to her enemy?

There are many aspects of our leadership that will be challenged by the congregation, some of it is done out of vicious rebellion, some out of anxiety, wondering whether or not you are going to be the man.

Dealing with anxiety like this with your own wife in your home has its own challenges.

But your household is the training ground for your relationship with the church, for you must rule your own household well so that you can know how to rule in God’s household (1Tm 3.4-5).

Dealing with this anxiety with a congregation takes it to a whole new level of difficulty as multiple relationships are involved and the dynamics are intensified.

If our congregations are going to have a chance to do what is right and be steadfast in the midst of an ever-changing, highly anxious world, we must provide the leadership that they need, which will include enduring these tests.

Conclusion: The need of the hour is deliberate, self-conscious, faithful, obedient masculine leadership from men. Women can’t do what we are called to do. To abdicate our responsibilities as men, forcing women to step up, whether through our laziness or some misguided idea of female empowerment, will continue to create explosive situations in the church (as well as other areas of societal life). Steadfastness depends upon men being men.

This glorious vision is overwhelming. The task seems daunting. We hear this grand narrative of “the world” and “nations” consciously arranging their cultures under the lordship of Christ, look at the task before us, and say, “How in the world do we get there from here?” We have trouble maintaining personal disciplines, ordering our own family life, and arranging local church life so that the church acts the way she is supposed to act. How are we expected to be changing the broader culture around us? The task, while glorious in its vision, seems hopeless.

The grand narrative is necessary for us to stay encouraged that Jesus is working and will ultimately succeed in bringing the nations in submission to himself. Our seemingly small efforts are a part of what Jesus is doing in the world by his Spirit, and they will ultimately be successful.

But what exactly are we to be doing to be a part of this victorious story of the church? In short, we are to strive to be the church that God has called us to be. We are to be cultivating the culture of the local church so that her culture reflects the culture that is displayed for us in John’s vision of the church in Revelation 21–22.

Cultivating culture is a simple concept, yet it is difficult and, many times, a complex undertaking. To cultivate or develop a culture, people who are in relationship with one another must establish common patterns of life that range from how they communicate to what they celebrate. If you are setting out deliberately to cultivate a certain culture in your family, for example, you see what you desire your family to be, and then you incorporate certain patterns of life in your relationships to become what you desire. You want your family to enjoy spending time together, communicating with one another. But your family is fragmented, hardly speaking to one another, and each person does his own thing. If the culture of your home is to change, you have times when you put away all of your personal items, such as books, electronic devices, et al., and you spend time together talking. If the individualistic, disjointed culture in your home is to change, then there must be some patterns of life–disciplines–in your family.

All that we do in our lives together leads us somewhere. Our relationships are being shaped by how we share our lives together. As the church, we shouldn’t be haphazard about this. Our activities should be deliberate and purposeful, not merely “keeping everyone busy” for busyness sake. If we want to be a culture of worship, then we must pattern our lives together around activities of worship and prayer. If we want to be a festive culture (and we should), we ought to have patterns of celebration and feasting.

Culture will develop. It may look like an unkempt garden, filled with all sorts of random weeds, or it can look like a beautiful, organized, and fruitful garden, like somebody meant to plant and cultivate it. The difference will be what the gardeners do. If we set good patterns in our lives together, then we can cultivate a good culture.

This is what Jesus has called us to do in our local situation. He has given us a little piece of the world to cultivate. All we are supposed to do in his worldwide mission is cultivate what he has given us. As we do this, we are participating in the grand narrative and glorious vision of the church that will certainly come to pass.

Let us be faithful in the culture he has given us

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Sometimes their actions, arising from this arrogant confidence, don’t have serious consequences. At other times, it can be the ruination of their lives. If they had only listened, if they had only considered another point of view, the situation would have turned out much differently. However, now they are suffering the effects of their willful blindness.

When Jesus heals the man born blind in John 9, he is not only saving this man, but he is also condemning the willfully blind Pharisees. The Pharisees are the “eyes” of Israel. They are the judges who determine whether an action is lawful or unlawful and, consequently, who is included in the people of God and who is excluded. The parents of the man born blind were afraid that they would be excommunicated by them (Jn 9:22), and the man born blind was eventually excommunicated (Jn 9:34). But they are blind judges who sit in Moses’ seat (cf. Mt 23:2, 16, 24).

The problem is that they won’t recognize their blindness and, therefore, their need for healing mercy. Quite the opposite. They believe that they see very well. They tenaciously hold to their view of reality, which includes Jesus being a sinner (Jn 9:24). Jesus tells them that if they recognized their blindness and (implicitly) came to him for healing, they would not be condemned for their sin. However, they are cocksure about how they see Jesus. Because of this, their sin remains (Jn 9:41). In the judgment, the true eyes of Israel, Jesus the Judge, will blind those who see (Jn 9:39); that is, he will destroy their view of reality and them with it.

The arrogant blind remain with us today, both inside and outside the church. These are the people who come across confidently about their distorted views of reality. These are the people who genuinely believe that Islam, Hinduism, Judaism, or any other religion besides the Christian faith is true. These are the people who confidently assert that all religions are basically the same. These are the people who believe that marriage between a man and a woman is an outdated concept. These are the people who affirm that gender fluidity and identifying yourself as the opposite sex or an animal is legitimate. These are the people who believe that heterosexual sexual activity outside of marriage is perfectly natural. These are the people who see clearly that same-sex unions are normal. These are the people in the church who twist the Scriptures to justify disobeying God and refuse to be convinced otherwise by sound counsel. This is the spouse who believes his or her adulterous relationship must be the will of God because it all feels right. These are the people who call good evil, and evil good, and are very confident in their views.

The Pharisees’ arrogance is a warning to us today, especially in the church (for they were good “churchmen”). Proud eyes, as Solomon calls them in Proverbs, are blind eyes. The antidote to pride is humility. Humility is not a lack of confidence, but rather confidence in the right authorities and a willingness to submit to them when it is clear that I am wrong. Humility always recognizes the lack of omniscience and the need for learning. Humility confesses the need for healing and is willing to admit being wrong when corrected. Humility doesn’t seek self-justification in the face of being shown sin and error but gladly repents and course corrects.

Arrogant eyes are no small matter. They are, in fact, an eternally deadly disease. However, they can be healed

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On Friday, the women viewed the cross from a distance. As they come to the tomb on the first day of the week, they have a new vision. “Seeing” language is all over the text. Looking up they see the stone rolled away (Mk 16:4). They see a young man sitting on the right side dressed in a white robe (Mk 16:5). They are invited to see where Jesus had been laid (Mk 16:6). The disciples will see Jesus in Galilee (7). These women shared the blindness of the disciples, at least in part. Now, they are invited by the young man to see, to understand, what has happened. Their hopes were crushed on Friday, but Jesus rose as he told them he would.

One of the ladies, Mary Magdalene, is focused on in Mark 16:9-11. Jesus delivered her of seven demons. She must have wondered what would happen to her since her deliverer died. Now that she sees the resurrected Jesus, she can know that the powers that once dominated her life will never do so again.

On Friday, the disciples couldn’t be seen. They forsook and denied Jesus. Jesus sends his gracious word to them. Where their sin abounded, his grace much more abounded. Peter specifically needs to know that even though he sinned greatly, Jesus still loves him and will fulfill his promise to him.

What do you see?

Jesus is risen from the dead. You affirm that. You believe it. You know it is history. But do you see the implications? It means that Jesus was right about everything. It is only in him that we have forgiveness of sins. He has shown us the way life must be lived; that to have life, we must lose it. Do you see that? Many times, like the disciples who failed him miserably, cracking during the hour of testing, we are ashamed of ourselves. To you, the resurrected Jesus tells you, “You are forgiven. My resurrection guarantees that.”Yes, he will rebuke you for your unbelief and hardness of heart. That too is his grace to you. He does so in order to restore you and set you on the right path.

I know you’ve failed, but do you see the forgiveness that is yours in the resurrected Jesus? Do you see that he has conquered all the sin, uncleanness, and even demons that dominated you in the past? See it. Believe it

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Jesus promised the disciples that after he was betrayed, mocked, scourged, and crucified, he would be raised on the third day. They had the promise, just as we have the promise of his return. But there is space. There is time. There is time for grief, doubt, and fear. There are questions. Our faith is tested. Did we misplace our trust? How can we be certain that what was promised will come to pass?

Pain, suffering, and death are real. They must be experienced. They must be endured. There is no rushing the fulfillment. There is no quick jump to Easter morning.

So it is in all of life. The resurrection gives us the rock-solid assurance that our future is secure, but taking up our crosses and following Christ will mean following him through Good Friday and Holy Saturday, the time when it is dark, when we can’t see the promised future, when we must trust God in the darkness of the tomb

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Reactions to the cross vary across the spectrum of humanity. Some react violently at the suggestion that God would reveal himself in such a manner. “There is no possible way that the man Jesus is revealing the one true God. God doesn’t die on a cross,” they may say. Others see the cross as a tragic end to a well-meaning but possibly misdirected first-century revolutionary. He meant well, but like all revolutionaries, he met a horrible end at the hands of the relentless, bone-crushing machine that was the Roman Empire. Still others pay little mind to the cross at all. They tattoo it on their bodies or wear it around their necks, but that is as much thought as they give to it. Then there are those of us who see the cross as the apex of God’s saving revelation. We glory in its shame. Each group sees the cross, but each group doesn’t see the cross in the same way.

As Jesus was being crucified, different people had different visions of the crucified Messiah.

The Jewish leadership, who conspired with Judas to have Jesus arrested and put to death, saw the cross as evidence of Jesus being a fraud. “He saved others; he cannot save himself. Let the Christ, the King of Israel, come down now from the cross that we may see and believe” (Mk 15:31-32). Those cursed by God hang on a tree (Dt 21:23). If God doesn’t deliver him from the death of the cross, that means God approves of their verdict. They say they want to see him come down, and then they will believe. But would they? Time will tell.

The Roman centurion had a clear vision of who Jesus was. He declared, “Truly this man was the Son of God” (Mk 15:39). Throughout the Gospel of Mark, Jesus hid his identity (“the Messianic Secret”). The Father declared Jesus to be his Son at his baptism (Mk 1:11). The centurion is the first one since then to echo the declaration of the Father. The Gentile sees Jesus’ crucifixion for what it is: the revelation of the Son of God.

There are women there who see the cross from a distance (Mk 15:40). Their distance is similar to Peter’s “following at a distance.” Perhaps they don’t want to get caught up in the frenzy and wind up on a cross. We don’t hear them confess what the centurion confesses. We know they love Jesus, for they will later take his body and prepare it for burial. At this time, however, they can’t believe their eyes. “Was this really how it was supposed to end?”

The apostles are nowhere to be found, as Mark records it. They see the cross as defeat.

What do you see?

We have grown accustomed to the story that we sometimes don’t meditate on it too much. Do we see and understand what Jesus is doing for us? Do we see the wrath and curse he endured for our sakes? Do we see ourselves taking up our own crosses and following him

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But that is what Jesus did.

On the night Jesus was betrayed, he instituted the Lord’s Supper, a meal that demonstrates the depths of Jesus’ love and the lengths to which he will go to be faithful to his promises. In Mark’s Gospel, the institution of the Supper is sandwiched between Jesus declaring that one of the Twelve would betray him and telling the other eleven disciples that they would forsake him, epitomized in Peter’s three-fold denial. The shepherd will be struck, and the sheep will scatter.

Mark set us up for this throughout his Gospel, especially recently, when he homed in on the disciples’ blindness (Mk 10:32-52; see this article). They can’t see how Jesus’ kingship involves betrayal, mocking, suffering, and death. All they see is the promised glory, not the path to it. Because they refuse to see the reality of the suffering Messiah, they are prime bait to fall into the trap of the enemy and forsake their Lord in his hour of suffering … and they do so spectacularly. Judas hands him over to the Jewish leadership. Peter denies him three times. The other ten scatter. Jesus is left alone.

Knowing all this was about to happen, Jesus institutes his memorial meal, declaring his self-sacrificial love for his unfaithful disciples. The bread is his body given for them. The wine is his blood shed for the forgiveness of their sins. Jesus loved them even in their unfaithfulness. Jesus served them even when they forsook him.

O, what wondrous love is this!

On this night, Jesus calls us to love one another as he has loved us. That means staying faithful for the sake of others even when they are unfaithful to you. This loving faithfulness takes on many different forms. Sometimes it is drawing hard lines that insist on repentance before reconciliation can take place. Other times, it will mean confrontation of sin in others. Love does what is best for the beloved. What is best doesn’t mean affirming people in and enabling the sin that destroys them. Jesus died to conquer his disciples’ sins. He certainly didn’t condone them. He loved them enough to stay faithful to his mission so that they could be reconciled to him.

As Jesus has loved us, so we ought to love one another

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The Sanhedrin had been crowned, anointed, and named the official power brokers of Israel. When the rogue rabbi from Nazareth showed up, they claimed the right to kill him, as much as a Scot has a right to Scotch. Jesus’ ministry threatens the political arrangement between the Pharisees and Rome. Jerusalem thrives on economic exploitation. It serves as the capital city, the seat of power, and the base of Herod’s operations. The Temple operates as a den of thieves, built on this corrupt relationship. The money changers at the temple only accept the regular half-shekel, which weighs double. As a result, worshipers pay twice the amount. As often happens with a strong centralized government, the nation’s people face heavy taxation, while the ruling class benefits the most.

Jesus’ ministry endangers the fragile alliance between Pilate and Caiaphas. The Sanhedrin wants to protect its position, so they come after Jesus like a pack of howling savages. Caiaphas explains that if the people believe in Jesus, “the Romans will come and take away both our place and our nation” (Jn. 11:48). The Jewish leaders aim to maintain their wealth by staying in Rome’s good graces. As Jesus’ popularity grows, the likelihood increases that the people will try to make him king by force (Jn. 6:15), which could lead to the collapse of the lucrative Jewish temple complex and bring ruin to the nation. The Romans demand compliance from the Jews—no riots, no disruptions, and no repeat of the Maccabean revolution.

What will satisfy both parties? Caiaphas suggests, “You know nothing at all. Nor do you understand that it is better for you that one man should die for the people, not that the whole nation should perish” (Jn. 11:50). They find a single victim, a scapegoat that allows the cronyism to continue (from the Sanhedrin’s perspective) and keeps the peace (from Rome’s perspective). With the right victim, the Pharisees remove the threat of Jesus while letting the Jews release their pent-up violence in a way that doesn’t threaten Rome. The solution is simple: kill Jesus so the nation won’t be destroyed. If Jesus dies, Israel survives. The Council kills Jesus to prevent Rome from killing Israel. They substitute Jesus for the Sanhedrin. To an external observer, the high priest condemns a blasphemer, and the Roman governor Pilate maintains the peace. Place the blame on one man. Punish the one man. His guilt doesn’t matter; it’s for the greater good.

Jesus has a history of scrapes with the Scribes but arranging for Jesus’ execution is a question of proportion. When Jesus enters Jerusalem that fateful week, his reputation is the perfect ruse for a common cause among the leaders of the Temple Industrial Complex (Jn. 12:19). Jesus is a troublemaker. The large crowds that follow him create chaos compared to the ordinary foot traffic the Romans prefer. That’s why they can’t arrest Jesus during the day; they must do it at night to avoid an uproar among the people (Mt. 26:4-5) Jesus blasphemes on the level of robe tearing (Mt. 26:65). He eats on the Sabbath (Mt. 12:1), heals on the Sabbath (Mt. 12:10), and instructs people to work on the Sabbath (Jn. 5:9-18). He dines with disreputable people (Mt. 9:10f) and openly challenges the authority of the temple leaders (Mk. 11:27-33). He claims to be the Temple incarnate (Mt. 26:61).

The Jewish Council fears that if Jesus grows in popularity, the Romans will take away their place and their nation (Jn. 11:48). The term “place” refers to the temple (Acts 6:13f; 21:28). Given the Jewish history of repeated and traumatic loss of land, including the sacking of the temple, they have every reason to doubt the stability of their positions. The fear of losing the “nation” refers to the semi-autonomous status the Romans grant the Jews. The Sanhedrin works hard to appease Rome and avoid armed revolt. They believe killing Jesus will end the threat of messianic expectations. Yet the temple falls anyway because they put Jesus to death in a desperate search for political solutions.

The entire episode demonstrates the wickedness that results from unity with the wrong people, for the wrong reasons. It’s no surprise that the High Priest Caiaphas would stoop to Satanic oneness with Rome. The Sanhedrin possesses the hubristic quality of believing in their own power as the salvation of Israel. All teaching, all miracles, all ideas, and all creations have to survive the intoxication of this bald, unvarnished commitment. There are rumors that Caiaphas purchased the high priesthood from Herod. Caiaphas, the son-in-law of Annas, who serves as the high priest for twenty-three years, becomes part of a dynasty. Five of Annas’ sons and his son-in-law, Caiaphas, serve as high priests after Annas leaves office, making Annas a sort of perpetual high priest. John’s gospel says that after Jesus’ arrest, he first meets with Annas, “for he was the father-in-law of Caiaphas, who was high priest that year” (Jn. 18:13). This suggests that Caiaphas’ authority exists in a stratified form, with Annas pulling the strings behind the scenes (Jn. 18:19-24; Lk. 3:2).

The Roman governors can remove the high priest for any reason, and they often do. Some high priests serve only one year before Rome replaces them. Caiaphas remains the high priest for eighteen years (AD 18 – 36), a feat only possible if he is a child of the appetites of the Romans. But Caiaphas’s shady politics are not the only factor behind the death of Jesus. His prophecy about Jesus carries a political meaning with a sacrificial nuance. Where does Caiaphas’s prophecy come from? Is this a genuine prophecy?

In Israel’s history, the high priest hears from God through the oracle of Urim and Thummim. The high priest wears a breastpiece on his robe, containing Urim and Thummim, the shining precious stones (Ex. 28:30; Lev. 8:8; Num. 27:21). God uses this oracle to direct his people throughout their history, going back to the days of Moses and Joshua. When Saul becomes king, he rejects God’s commands (1 Sam. 14:3, 18–19, 36–37), and the oracle shifts from Saul to David. Even after God rejects Saul, he tries to return to the oracle, but God does not answer him (1 Sam. 28:6). In contrast, David frequently consults God, hears God’s Word, and obeys the divine directions (14:35-41; 15:26; 22:13, 15; 23:9–10; 30:7–8, 18; 2 Sam. 2:1; 5:19, 23; 21:1; 23:14; 1 Chr. 10:14; 13:31; 14:10, 14).[1]

David’s successors do not consistently consult God through this oracle. When the two tribes returned from exile, the right to the oracle was not immediately restored (Neh. 7:61-65).[2] Josephus wrote that the oracle had been silent for two hundred years before he wrote his Antiquities. According to Josephus, the oracle is temporarily restored during the days of the high priest John Hyrcanus (134 BC – 104 BC), an excellent king, priest, and prophet. Hyrcanus foretells several things that come to pass, but the oracle ceases when he dies.

That doesn’t stop the high priests from wearing the diadems and attempting to hear the will of God. Do these high priests receive secret messages from God? Does Caiaphas’s prophecy of Jesus come from God as a specimen of this ancient oracle? Or does Caiaphas impose his thoughts on the people by claiming to speak for God?[3]

John’s gospel provides a clue. Caiaphas says, “It is better for you that one man should die for the people, not that the whole nation should perish.” Then John explains, “He did not say this of his own accord, but being high priest that year, he prophesied that Jesus would die for the nation, and not for the nation only, but also to gather into one the children of God who are scattered abroad” (Jn. 11:50-52). John indicates that Caiaphas prophesies, suggesting that John believes God gave these words.

Receiving God’s words and understanding them are two different things. God has a particular meaning with these words (Mk. 10:32-34), while Caiaphas interprets them differently, in a self-serving, politicized way. God’s meaning is that Jesus’ death and resurrection establish a forever reign for the eternal King. Caiaphas believes Jesus needs to die and be out of the way. This is how politics kills Jesus. The death and resurrection of Christ demonstrate what happens when people who are infatuated with their authority confront the Son of God. Caiaphas is one of those exasperating people who does not understand Jesus’ prophesies, and yet also does not understand his own. What appears as political power overwhelming the Messiah actually becomes the Messiah overwhelming their power. This is how the Kingdom of God operates. When the elites exchange virtue for pernicious schemes, they bring judgment upon themselves (Ps. 2:1-12).

_{Jason Cherry is an elder at Trinity Reformed Church in Huntsville, Alabama, as well as a teacher and lecturer of literature, history, and economics at Providence Classical School in Huntsville. He graduated from Reformed Theological Seminary with an MA in Religion and is the author of the book The Culture of Conversionism and the History of the Altar Call and the book The Making of Evangelical Spirituality (Wipf and Stock).}

[1] Josephus, F., & Whiston, W. (1987). The Works of Josephus, Antiq. 6.12.5. Hendrickson.

[2] See also 1 Esd. 5:40; 1 Macc. 4:46; 14:41

[3] Josephus, F., & Whiston, W. (1987). The Works of Josephus, Antiq. 3.8.9. Hendrickson.

Sin has radically corrupted us. We need healing, healing of body and soul. Through his substitutionary death and subsequent resurrection, Jesus has come to perform this healing.

Among other themes that tie Mark’s Gospel together, healing is prominent. As in the other Gospels, we see the record of Jesus healing many. In Mark, however, the Evangelist ties the healings to the condition of Jesus’ disciples. The correlation is there from the beginning. Jesus calls four disciples–Simon, Andrew, James, and John (1:16-22)–and four healings follow (1:23-28; 29-31; 40-45; 2:1-12). Jesus calls Levi (2:13-17), and one healing follows (3:1-6). Jesus calls the disciples to himself on the mountain, and there are eight new names (3:13-19). Eight healings follow in the rest of the Gospel (5:1-20; 5:21-43 (x2); 7:24-30; 7:31-37; 8:22-26; 9:14-29; 10:46-52).

Mark makes this even clearer in what scholars call “the Markan sandwich.” Mark will record a few stories together that mutually interpret one another. He may start a story, interrupt it, and then finish the original story. The literary device is used to tell us how the stories relate.

One of those sandwiches includes the Royal Entry. Jesus tells his disciples that he is going to Jerusalem to be betrayed, die, and rise again (10:32-34). That is foundational for the next three scenes: wanting to sit on Jesus’ right and left hands (10:35-45), healing blind Bartimaeus (10:46-52), and the Royal Entry (11:1-10). Jesus tells his disciples, “See” or “Behold” in 10:33. What do they need to see? They need to see his mission as king as including betrayal, death, and resurrection. The sandwich that follows tells us that both they and the crowds on Palm Sunday are blind to his mission. They need to be healed like Bartimaeus.

James and John ask to be seated at Jesus right and left hands when he comes into his kingdom, which they probably thought he was about to do when he went to Jerusalem. Maybe Jesus would deal with his enemies as King David dealt with the Jebusites in 2 Samuel 5. They are blinded to the fact that the path to glory is the way of suffering and death. The beginning of exaltation is to be lifted up on the cross.

Parallel to the disciples are the crowds at the Royal Entry. Like the disciples, they proclaim truths about Jesus, but they don’t fully see the full picture of how the King enters his glory. These same people who hail him as king may be those who join in the cries to crucify him later.

Blind Bartimaeus is the only one who sees clearly. He calls out to Jesus as the Son of David, the King. When the Son of David comes, he will, among other things, heal the blind (Isa 35:5). Jesus asks Bartimaeus the same thing he asked James and John, “What do you want me to do for you?” making the parallel between the two obvious. Bartimaeus wants to see. Bartimaeus receives what the disciples need: the ability to see Jesus for who he is and what he came to do.

What do you see? Do you see glory without the cross? Do you see authority as a means to consume upon yourself instead of being spent for others? Do you need your eyes healed

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Confirmation bias exists in an echo chamber where you don’t allow other voices in to challenge you with evidence. You already know what you believe, and you only accept evidence that supports your belief. This reality is only exacerbated today in social media. We can tailor the groups we join so that we feed off of one another and deepen our commitments to whatever we are for or against. It is not a bad thing to have these types of groups, unless they blind you to sound reason by examining other evidence or acknowledging that your knowledge is limited.

Confirmation bias creates a bad relationship with reality. If you don’t get out of the spiral, you become blind to any other possibilities and live in self-deception because that is where you are comfortable.

The Pharisees wanted to kill Jesus. They have been wanting to kill Jesus for a while. Even if he gives them evidence that their judgment of him is wrong, they can’t see it. They have already determined what they believe about him, and all evidence to the contrary is dismissed. Everything Jesus says and does confirms their belief about him because they see him through these darkened eyes.

This is never more evident in the Gospels than in John 9 with the man born blind. Jesus healed this on the Sabbath by making clay out of saliva, anointing his eyes, and telling him to go wash in the Pool of Siloam. The Jewish leadership already wanted to kill Jesus, a fact established in a similar story with many parallels in John 5 (the healing of the paralytic). Everything Jesus does only confirms their opinion of him. He again heals on the Sabbath, which means he has violated their rules about what constitutes work on the Sabbath. They won’t see, first, that as God in the flesh, Jesus fulfills the Sabbath by providing rest for those under his authority. Second, they won’t see that never in the history of the world has a man who was born blind been healed. That is nothing less than the power to raise the dead, the power that only God has. They have become futile in their thoughts, and their foolish hearts are darkened (Rom 1:21).

As the story progresses, while the healed man moves into greater and greater light, understanding who Jesus is, the Jews spiral into greater and greater darkness. The longer they continue, the greater their blindness.

Neither sin nor righteousness is static. We are never in a neutral position. We are either growing into greater insight or devolving into greater blindness. The only way to avoid the darkness is to humbly submit to the light. Pray that God’s Spirit will keep your mind submitted to his revelation. Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. Find friends who will challenge you and not simply agree with you on everything. Stay out of echo chambers

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We could go through a long and scholarly dissertation concerning Jesus’ Jewishness, but here is the short version:

When God promised that the seed of the woman would crush the head of the serpent in Genesis 3:15, God was telling us that a son would be born sometime in the future who would undo all that had been done by the serpent, the woman, and the man. The seed then becomes a thread throughout the entire story of Scripture. The seed would be a new Adam, the new head of humanity and king of the world. As Adam, he would represent the entire created order, acting on its behalf.

The seed is not all the sons born to a certain man and woman in a family. The seed is God’s chosen son. He may have brothers, but not all of them are “the seed.” Abel is the seed. Cain is not. After Cain kills Abel, Seth takes up the mission of the seed. The seed line continues through to Noah (cf. Gen 5) and eventually Abraham (cf. Gen 11). Abraham had two sons, Ishmael and Isaac, but Isaac was the seed, not Ismael (cf. Rom 9). Jacob (who became Israel) was then given the mission. The twelve sons of Israel (the twelve tribes of Israel) took up this mission, but Judah was the son whose line had the seed mission, the son from whom the king would come (cf. Gen 49:8-12). This is shown when God makes a covenant with David and promises that David’s son will be God’s son (2 Sam 7; 1 Chron 17; Ps 89). The whole mission of Israel to take the strike from the serpent in order to crush his head devolved upon the King of the Jews. Eventually, Jesus is born as the seed of David according to the flesh (Rom 1:4). When he is crucified, he is crucified as King of the Jews (Mt 27:11, 29, 37). As David’s son, King of the Jews, he is the second and last Adam (cf. Rom 5:12-21), the one who takes Israel’s mission as the seed upon himself to crush the serpent’s head. As Jesus told the Samaritan woman, “Salvation is of the Jews” (Jn 4:22).

Israel (eventually “the Jews”) is vital to the story. Jesus’ Jewishness is absolutely essential to the story. He couldn’t have been an Assyrian, Babylonian, Cushite, or any other ethnicity. The genealogy is not complicated. It’s covenantal. God’s plan went through Israel. It couldn’t be any other way.

Whatever your view of the modern state of Israel and the Jews may be, it shouldn’t become the lens through which you read the Scriptures. Jesus was born, lived, died, and rose again as the embodiment of Israel. If he didn’t, then he is not the Savior of the world

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