The New Way of Fasting in the New Covenant Era

Have you ever read Mark 2:18–22 and scratched your head wondering what on earth Jesus is talking about? I have. Repeatedly. What do his illustrations illustrate? What's with these garments and wineskins? Why does Jesus give us these illustrations when he speaks of fasting? And what do they mean? How do they apply?

Some scholars, sensing a disconnect, suggest that verses 21–22 didn't originally belong with verses 18–20, or that perhaps they ought to be taken as an independent bit of instruction. But such suggestions undoubtedly miss Jesus' point, miss the connection, misunderstanding biblical theology, the gospel of the kingdom, and the nature and relation of the covenants. And so we need not posit the kinds of things scholars are apt to posit when they cannot see how a passage hangs together.

Furthermore, some scholars, who grant a connection, think the old is Judaism, and the new is Christianity. Though there is undoubtedly some truth to this, inasmuch as Judaism was a way of practicing the old in the first century when Jesus gave this instruction, yet it focuses too narrowly on one slice of what Jesus is addressing. John and his disciples are also part of the old (v. 18), however we understand the old. And John and his disciples, we have no reason to doubt, practiced, more or less, old covenant spirituality, and did so in a way that was no doubt God-glorifying. So they point to some practices that align more nearly with faithful old covenant spirituality. But Jesus, to whom John points, goes beyond old covenant spirituality, and supersedes it. And thus viewing the old as narrowly referring to the Judaism of the first century doesn't quite seem to get at the contrast between the new that Jesus' brings over against the old that's gone before.

So here's how I think it works. The illustrations of verses 21 and 22 seem clear enough. The new cannot be put on the old; the new does not fit into the old. The new rips the old; the new bursts the old. The new in some sense is distinct from the old. That's plain. Isn't it? But what's not as plain is how these illustrations illuminate how we're to practice fasting—and, particularly, fasting in the new covenant era.

So, how shall we understand these illustrations with respect to fasting in the new covenant era? Well, I think I've finally understood Jesus, after years of head scratching, and here's my attempt to answer the question. Think it over, and you judge for yourself whether or not you think I've got it right.

You cannot fast the way the saints fasted in the old covenant era. That fasting did not focus on the Bridegroom the way fasting in the new covenant era does. "The days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast in that day" (v. 20, italics mine). Is this simply saying that disciples will resume fasting again? No, no. That misses the new element. Fasting in the era of the new covenant purchased with Jesus' blood is Christ-centered. It's oriented on the gospel of the kingdom, a kingdom that dawned in the coming of the incarnate King, a kingdom that comes in all its fullness in his coming again in glory with the holy angels.

So fasting after Christ's first coming longs for Jesus' return. It yearns for the King to bring the kingdom in all its glorious fulness (Matt. 6:10). It strives for God's will to be done on earth as it is being done in heaven (Matt. 6:10). It wants—more than it wants anything—for God's name in Christ to be hallowed and adored and praised and blessed and esteemed above all else (Matt. 6:9). And it pants after the river of God's pleasures that passes through the new Jerusalem (Rev. 22:1–2; Ps. 36:8–9), that is, for God's Spirit poured out in fullness in a new heavens and new earth.

Fasting in the old covenant era did not look like this. And so the new way of fasting, if it does not go beyond the garments and containers of the old, rips and bursts the old. The old is old: it cannot wear the new, cannot contain the new. The new is new: it needs new garments, needs new wineskins. The glory of gospel garments far exceeds the glory of the old garb. The glory of gospel fine wine far exceeds the glory of the old wine. The old had glory; but the new far greater glory. And so it must go on in a new way, a new and living way, centering on Jesus, focusing on the his coming kingdom, longing for the fullness of his fellowship. Having been given the engagement ring in the gift of the Spirit, the new way of fasting longs for that Wedding of all weddings.

We might even be able to extrapolate and make applications more broadly to spiritual disciplines generally: the spiritual disciplines of the old covenant era cannot wear or carry the spiritual disciplines of the new. Christ's coming changes everything. The old had its place in God's plan. And it still does, as it continues to point forward to the realities of the new, as it continues to provide the categories for embracing the King and his new covenant kingdom. But now, with the cataclysmic coming of the new age into and driving out the old, the new age and her crowned King must be the center of all our devotion.

"Then they will fast in that day" (Mark 2:20). Now is "that day." Now is the day of salvation. Now is on the edge of eternity. So come, Lord Jesus. Come! For you we wait. For you alone we long. For your glory we pray. Sweep us off our feet, and take us over the threshold of the new Jerusalem into the everlasting kingdom of God. Forever, and ever. Allelujah! Maranatha!

The Israel of God

There has always been an Israel within Israel. That is to say, a true Israel within an Israel in name only. So argues the apostle Paul, for example, in Rom. 9:6, and elsewhere (e.g., Gal. 6:16; Phil. 3:3; see esp. the Greek of these texts, and note the various versions, esp. Gal. 6:16, NIV).

But this is clear from the Old Testament as well as the New Testament. Paul himself points this out in Rom. 9:6ff. Another text that makes this clear, it seems to me, is Ps. 73:1, though I don't believe this is often pointed out.

There we read:

          "Truly God is good to Israel,
          to those who are pure in heart."

I put the text like this so you can see the parallelism of the two lines in this verse. "Israel" is parallel to "those who are pure in heart." And so "those who are pure in heart" defines who Israel is, who the true Israelites are. Those Israelites with impure hearts are not Israel. At least in one vital sense.

So unless you're going to try to argue that all of ethnic Israel was pure in heart at the time the psalmist composed this poem (which seems to strain credulity, given Israel's checkered history), we have a plain statement in Psalm 73 that "they are not all Israel who are from Israel" (Rom. 9:6, NASB).

Man under the Law

"Man under the law lives in a state of tension. He knows what is right; he approves what is right; but he lacks the power to do what is right."

—F. F. Bruce, Paul: Apostle of the Heart Set Free (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1977), 331.

The Message of the Whole Bible

Many scholars, as many of you are no doubt familiar, have proposed a "center" to the whole Bible. There is nothing like consensus in this matter, and many believe that the attempt to find a unifying center is the errand of folly.

Well, here goes my tentative junior attempt at suggesting a unifying center for the whole Bible:

The Bible, both the Old and New Testaments together, narrates and declares the grace-filled good news of the new creation kingdom of God, promised and fulfilled in King Jesus, the Son of God, as crucified and risen, and in his redeemed people, by the Spirit of God—all to the glory of God the Father, who is all in all. 

Picking Up Inner-canonical Hermeneutical Distinctives

Carson:

The kind of biblical theology that is profoundly grounded in tracing out the Bible's plot-line is intrinsically more likely to pick up . . . inner-canonical hermeneutical distinctive[s] than either systematic theology or those kinds of biblical theology that rarely ask diachronic questions.

—D. A. Carson, "Systematic Theology and Biblical Theology," NDBT: 98.

Dealing with the Old Testament in Isolation from the New

In his influential popular-level book According to Plan, Graeme Goldsworthy comments on an unhappy development in Old Testament Studies:

Over the years Christian scholars have developed specialization in either Old or New Testament studies. The trend has been toward a study of the Old Testament in and of itself. This is not a Christian approach to the matter. Christians in increasing numbers have written books on the Old Testament, which hardly even mention the fact that the New Testament exists. It has become a common feature of theological and Bible college curricula that the Old Testament is dealt with in complete isolation from the New Testament. 

So he concludes: "There seems to be a failure in allowing the New Testament to determine how we relate the Old Testament to Christ."

This is lamentable. And of this tendency and failure there needs to be repentance.

Election not Based on Good or Bad Works

In Rom. 9:11, "works" are clearly construed as the doing of either "good or bad." That's important, not least in the light of the claims of the proponents of the new perspective on Paul (NPP). The NPP folks take "works" in Paul's vocabulary to refer to the "boundary markers" or "ethnic badges" of circumcision, food laws, and Sabbath that would distinguish Jews from Gentiles. But Rom. 9:11 provides a crystal clear instance of Pauline usage of the "works" vocabulary where the meaning cannot be reduced to mere "boundary markers" or "ethnic badges."

No, the ethnic badge bit just will not work here. Here "works" are construed by Paul in broad moral, behavioral terms—the doing of either "good or bad." And that includes the gamut of human behavior after being born. Moreover, since he chooses Jacob and not Esau, we are also looking at the period of redemptive history prior to the given of the torah. That's also important. Being a good reader of redemptive history in Scripture (and being an inspired apostle of the risen Jesus as well), Paul understands that God's election of Jacob and not of Esau does not depend on their good or bad moral behavior. Not even a little. And so the implications for our understanding of justifcation—as Paul makes evident (e.g., Rom. 8:30; 9:33-10:4; 11:7)—are equally clear, and enourmously important. As in, eternally important; as in, one's status on the last day.

The Law Is not For the Righteous

One of the most important texts in the NT (I do not hesitate any longer to say it), and one of the more neglected texts in the NT (at least as far as preaching and teaching go), is 1 Timothy 1:8-11. Its importance, I'm convinced, has yet to be adequately grasped by much of the Church. And its importance is directly related to how it views the function of the law ("law" here certainly referring chiefly to the Pentateuch) and how it concieves of the plane on which the Christian life is to be lived out.

Now before I get to the main point of the text, I want to acknowlegde that all texts are constrained by contexts. That's no less true for this text than any other. I say this because this very text before us can be mishandled and misappropriated if applied to the wrong context in the wrong way (after all, Paul pens this text in this context, and not in another, or all others, for that matter). So let us not forget what Paul is dealing with in Ephesus, namely, men teaching divergent doctrine (1 Tim. 1:3). These men wanted to set up shop as the licensed handlers of the law, even though Paul tells us that, with respect to the law at least, they didn't know up from down, didn't have a clue, didn't get it (as they say), though they sure acted like they had gotten it (1 Tim. 1:7).

Without delay, then, on to the main point of the text. Verses 8–11 are one sentence in the Greek with a fairly simple structure. The basic structure reads this way (the other elements are supportive or elaborative): "Now we know that the law is good . . . knowing that the law is not laid down for the righteous, but for [the unrighteous] . . . and whatever else contradicts sound doctrine . . ." (translation mine). Did you hear that? The law is not for the righteous. Isn't that clear? But it is for the unrighteous (described in the list that follows). Isn't that also clear? And the unrighteous and their unrighteous ways are said to be contradicting sound doctrine. They are the ones who need to hear the law. But those who live in line with the sound doctrine, that is, the righteous—they don't need the law. It's not laid down for them. Isn't this what the text is saying?

So what Paul is saying here appears to be quite plain, and yet many Reformed folks (and especially theonomistic types) won't acknowledge what is out there in broad daylight. And I highly suspect they cannot see the apostle's clear assertion because of their systematics (which I by and large love and hope I would shed my blood for). To be fair, it would perhaps be more accurate to say that they have nobly tried to do the work of systematizing all the biblical texts without handling fairly and accurately texts like this one.

So the plain out-in-the-broad-daylight teaching (for all to see, it seems to me) is that the law of God—holy, just, and good (Rom. 7:12)—was never given for the righteous. That's not why God gave the law. If you are righteous, if you are living righteously, you don't need the law of God. (At least not in one very important sense pointed out here by the apostle of grace.) No, it's not meant for you, O righteous. It's meant for the unrighteous, the unholy and ungodly, the sinner and worldling. The lawless need the law. But those who are fulfilling it (e.g., Rom. 13:8-10) don't need it. At least not for the purpose of making them righteous!

This has implications for what's called "the third use of the law" in Reformed circles. And the main one is that we are not sanctified by the law. It's powerless to make us righteous. Oh, it still has a function, alright (e.g., Matt. 5:17-20). Not one jot or tittle passes till all is accomplished (as an aside, note the eschatalogical language in Matt. 5:17-20). But it is not God's primary instrument for changing us into the likeness of Christ. No, that's accomplished by "sound doctrine" that accords with "the Gospel of the glory of the happy God" (1 Tim. 1:11). If you are living under the almighty sway of the good news of God's joyful glory, the law has done its job, and hardly has any work to do anymore.

And so the plane on which the believer's life moves is sound doctrine. But what is that sound doctrine? Is this sound doctrine the ten commands? Well, that's not quite how Paul puts it, now is it? Is it Mosaic legislation? Is it a list of rules? Statutes? Precepts? Commands? Well, I don't dare say that a believer's life moves on a plane that is out of step with God's commands or the ten words or the Mosaic pattern. But going to these commands and demands of the law is not where Paul goes when he speaks of what is "opposed to sound doctrine" (1 Tim. 1:10), what kind of life is not like the life that is lived in line with sound doctrine.

No, but by "sound doctrine" Paul means what accords with (we might say, what flows from) not so much the law (though that is true!), but with "the Gospel of the glory of the happy God." That's more to the point. If the life is lived out on the Gospel plane, it will be a life of love flowing "from a pure heart and a good conscience and an unfeigned faith" (1 Tim. 1:5). And love driven along by the engine of the Gospel of a Vesuvius-like God who explodes with happiness and blessedness has no truck with the lawlessness of 1 Tim. 1:9-10. And so it also has no need for the law.

The Song of Songs Read Along the Bible's Storyline

Stephen Dempster on how to read the Song of Songs along the Bible's storyline:

In the light of the larger storyline and the prophetic commentary, notably Jeremiah and Hosea, the love between the two human lovers points to the relationship between Yahweh and Israel at the beginning: "I remember the devotion of your youth, how as a bride you loved me, and followed me through the desert, through a land not sown" (Jer. 2:2). . . . 

Short of its literary context, the song [of Songs] could be almost pornographic. But the context of the canon both restricts the meaning to the context of marriage and expands it to include the relationship between Yahweh and Israel. When reading this text, the reader hears Jeremiah's oracle, Ezekiel 16, and Hosea 1–3. There is the reminder of the passionate and fiery love that Yahweh had for his people before the crisis [of exile]. . . .

He concludes, quoting Karl Barth:

The little text of the Song of Songs looks to the end of the larger Text, of which it is a part, when "Yahweh and His people are together and are one flesh."

—Stephen G. Dempster, Dominion and Dynasty: A Theology of the Hebrew Bible (Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 2003), 207–208.

Matthew's "Peculiar" Use of Jer. 31:15

That Matthew's use of the OT is somewhat (what shall we call it?), well, peculiar is fairly common knowledge. But what he does with Scripture is fascinating and worthy of careful study, not least because it can correct a hermeneutical methodology mired in modern assumptions and patterns foreign to Scripture.

In our regular Bible reading, my wife and I just moved through Matthew 2. And so we encountered a number of these instances of "peculiar" uses of the OT. But as we thought about what Matthew seemed to be doing, the usages didn't seem all that strange after all, at least if we're willing to set aside some of our common hermeneutical assumptions, like the assumption that a quotation of Scripture must mean that the author is thinking in terms of direct verbal predictive fulfillment. But the majority of the NT uses of the OT just don't work that way. And Matthew generally, even predominantly, doesn't use texts that way.

For instance, Matthew cites Jer. 31:15 in Matt. 2:18. What's he up to? Among other things, it seems like this is one of those instances where Matthew wishes to portray the Jews as still in exile, still in a Babylonian captivity of sorts. After all, they are under Roman rule. And here is Herod wreaking havoc and spreading oppression. As Jeremiah speaks to a people in exile under foreign domination, so also apparently does Matthew. It's perhaps subtle, but arguably there. Just as Israel's mothers, personified as Rachel, wept for their children in the sixth century B.C. under the Babylonian oppression and struggle, so also in the first century the mothers of Israel wept for their children under Herod's barbarity and cruelty.

It seems that Matthew's previous use of Hos. 11:1 in Matt. 2:15 lends support to this contention that Israel is being viewed by Matthew as still in exile and in need of a new exodus—which, of course, will come about through the resurrection of the Son of God, the true Israel.

Don't Boast about Tomorrow, for Your Life Is a Mist

I'm not sure why I've never made the connection before, because it now seems rather obvious: Jas. 4:13-17 appears to be an unpacking of Prov. 27:1.

Were the Apostles Good Expositors and Exegetes?

R. T. France:

It may be something of a surprise to those brought up in the tradition of biblical exposition to find that the biblical writers themselves do not often seem to use other biblical texts in the same way that we have come to use their own writings. In particular, extended exposition of Old Testament passages in an expository fashion does not seem to be a characteristic of most of the New Testament writers.

—"The Writer of Hebrews as a Biblical Expositor," TynBul 47 (1996):245–76.

How Prophecy Does and Does not Work

Christopher H. J. Wright on how OT prophecy works:

To expect that all the details of Old Testament prophecies have to be literally fulfilled is to classify them all in the category of flat predictions which have to ‘come true’, or be judged to have failed. . . . The Old Testament did make predictions and they were fulfilled with remarkable accuracy—as in the case of Jesus’s birth in Bethlehem. . . . [But] to insist on literal fulfillment of prophecies can be to overlook their actual nature within the category of promise, with the potential of different and progressively superior levels of fulfillment. To look for direct fulfillments of, say, Ezekiel in the 20^th-century Middle East is to bypass and short-circuit the reality and the finality of what we already have in Christ as the fulfillment of those great assurances. 

—Knowing Jesus Through the Old Testament (Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 1992), 76-77.

A Two-Way Process at Work, Yielding a Double Benefit

Christopher J. H. Wright on whole-Bible methodology:

When we take the Old Testament history seriously in relation to its completion in Jesus Christ, a two-way process is at work, yielding a double benefit in our understanding of the whole Bible. On the one hand, we are able to see the full significance of the Old Testament story in the light of where it leads—the climactic achievement of Christ; and on the other hand, we are able to appreciate the full dimensions of what God did through Christ in the light of his historical declarations and demonstrations of intent in the Old Testament.

—Knowing Jesus Through the Old Testament (Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 1992), 33.

How to Do Biblical Theology Evangelically and Doxologically

Regarding what biblical theology is, many have commented, even lamented, that the definitions on offer abound. Paul R. Williamson proffers one helpful and faithful way of thinking about biblical theology evangelically, to which I recently referred in another post. I reproduce it here again: 

Biblical theology is arguably best thought of as a holistic enterprise tracing unfolding theological trajectories throughout Scripture and exploring no biblical concept, theme, or book in isolation from the whole. Rather, each concept, theme, or book is considered ultimately in terms of how it contributes to and advances the Bible's meta-narrative . . . .[1]

Williamson’s definition comports well with a number of the emphases of other definitions given,[2] and it picks up a number of important elements that should be included in doing biblical theology. An evangelical biblical theology should be theological, holistic, whole-Bible, synthetic, follow Scripture’s storyline, and follow Scriptures own trajectories. After briefly discussing these key elements, I'll also go beyond Williams' definition and add two other essentials.

It should be theological because the Bible is primarily revelation about God, about his person, works, ways, and words. 

It should be holistic in that it takes into account the Bible’s historical and literary dimensions, that is, it considers genre, literary devices, linguistic features, historical methods, and the like. 

It should be whole-Bible since the Bible ultimately has one Author and one Mind behind it. In other words, the OT should not be sealed off from the NT, nor vice versa. The Bible is therefore understood as a unity—without sacrificing its diversity!—and neither the OT nor the NT is rightly fully understood apart from the other (even though each has its distinctive voice and distinctive contributions). 

Dovetailing with this whole-Bible emphasis, evangelical biblical theology should be synthetic. That is, it should seek to relate the distinctive and diverse parts of the Bible “to uncover all that holds them together,” all the while maintaining and not muting “the glorious diversity of the biblical documents.”[3] 

It should consider the Bible’s metanarrative as well.[4] Whatever else the Bible is, it is certainly a story with a definite beginning and ending. In between the beginning and ending comes progression or development or expansion of various sorts—embedded in a breathtaking array of literary variety. In this vein, evangelical biblical theology will take into account the Bible’s chronology in thinking about how the parts relate and develop theologically. In this regard, it ought to attempt “to uncover and understand how words and themes in earlier canonical texts are used in later canonical texts.”[5] 

Moreover, it will seek to follow trajectories warranted by Scripture itself, that is, by discerning aright what Scripture is and what it is doing, in its parts, and as a whole. This relates to the emphasis on following the Bible’s chronological storyline as words and concepts are traced across God’s covenant and redemptive revelation. These words and concepts or themes are traced when warrant is discerned in the text for doing so. 

So an interpreter trying to do sound biblical theology will want to provide canonical reasons for tracing out a text along a proposed trajectory. There are no infallible methods for doing this tracing, but warrant ought to be provided for one’s choice. A reasonable and reasoned warrant might include, for example, discerning key words or concepts deployed in similar contexts; or it might include, for example, discerning a later development of an earlier text that is part of the later text’s illocution.[6] 

Now not all of these elements in Williams’ definition and similar definitions need be emphasized equally when looking at a given chunk of text. As already stated, the text itself should set the agenda. But given that any given text is part of a larger Text, these elements will be likely emphases in doing biblical theology. 

Moreover, and I judge this to be all-important, what is not included explicitly in Williams’ definition, and what is often missing in treatments of biblical theology today, is that an evangelical biblical theology—because it is theological—ought to be not only descriptive, but also prescriptive and confessional.[7] I would even be prepared to argue that everything else that has been said about what biblical theology ought to be and do must aim at this prescribing and confessing. Otherwise, the biblical theology ceases to be biblical, and is worse than worthless.

[1] Paul R. Williamson, Sealed with an Oath: Covenant in God’s Unfolding Purpose (Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 2007), 17.
[2] See, for example, Carson, "Systematic and Biblical Theology," NDBT, 100-101; and B. S. Rosner, “Biblical Theology,” NDBT, 10.
[3] Carson, NDBT, 100-101.
[4] The OT is not the whole story, nor is the NT the whole story. The OT and NT together tell God’s whole story and together provide the full revelation of God.
[5] Carson, NDBT, 101.
[6] Richard Schultz sets forth a helpful way for working out the theological themes across the canon. See “Integrating Old Testament Theology and Exegesis: Literary, Thematic, and Canonical Issues,” in vol. 1 of New International Dictionary of Old Testament Theology & Exegesis (ed. Willem A. VanGemeren; 5 vols.; Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1997), 185-205; see also Carson, NDBT, 97-98.
[7] For example, Carson notes this, NDBT, 101.

What Is Biblical Theology?

What is biblical theology? As many have pointed out, well, it depends on who's answering the question. There are a variety of ways biblical theology has been defined.

In his Sealed with an Oath: Covenant in God's Unfolding Purpose, Paul R. Williamson proffers a helpful and faithful way of thinking about biblical theology:

Biblical theology is arguably best thought of as a holistic enterprise tracing unfolding theological trajectories throughout Scripture and exploring no biblical concept, theme, or book in isolation from the whole. Rather, each concept, theme, or book is considered ultimately in terms of how it contributes to and advances the Bible's meta-narrative . . . (17).

But if one accepts this, one must move from the common tendency in academia toward atomistic handling of texts. Which many are unwilling to do. I suggest that not only should we be willing to move away from this tendency, but we must be willing. Indeed, faithfulness to the way Scripture intends itself to be understood requires this of us.

Is God Concerned about Oxen?

A helpful and insightful interpretation for Paul's use of Deut. 25:4 in 1 Cor. 9:9 may be found here. And the methodology modeled there is quite instructive and sound.

What is Typology?

Here are a few answers.

J. I. Packer succinctly gives us the standard stuff:

Typology . . . looks into Old Testament patterns of divine action, agency, and instruction that [find] final fulfillment in Christ. . . .[1]

Peter J. Leithart says it in his own way:

 “Typology” is a loaded word. . . . I use the word not only to highlight the principle that the Old Testament points ahead to Christ, but also to describe the structure of the Old Testament itself. The Old Testament is composed according to a rhythm of “repetition with difference” that is a microcosm of New Testament typology. David is a “type” of Jesus, but he is also an “antitype” of Adam. When I speak of a “typological” understanding of the Old Testament I am further calling attention to the literary devices that the Bible uses to communicate its message. These are “typological” in the sense that they are the means by which the Bible presents the rhythms of history, as well as the means by which the Old Testament in particular points to Christ. . . .[2]

And D. L. Baker perhaps puts it most helpfully:

The fundamental conviction that underlies typology is that God is consistently active in the history of this world (especially in the history of his chosen people) and that as a consequence the events in this history tend to follow a consistent pattern. One event may thus be chosen as typical of another or of many others. 

A type is a biblical event, person, or institution that serves as an example or pattern for other events, person, or institutions; typology is the study of types and the historical and theological correspondences between them; the basis of typology is God’s consistent activity in the history of his chosen people.[3]

---

[1] J. I. Packer, From the Forward of The Unfolding Mystery: Discovering Christ in the Old Testament (Phillipsburg: P&R, 1988), 8.

[2] Peter Leithart, A House for My Name: A Survey of the Old Testament (Moscow: Canon Press, 2000), 27-28.

[3] Quoted in Robin Routledge, Old Testament Theology: A Thematic Approach (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2008), 45. 

The World Ordained to Display Gospel Glories

When the time came for God to send his Son into the world, did he do so in the light of the categories that happened to be in place? In other words, did God look around for fitting symbols and patterns and analogies (e.g., sonship, kingship, priesthood, temple, bridegroom, etc.) with which Christ might be understood?

No way. Not in ten million ages. The whole of creation and human history has been ordained to display the glories of Christ and the good news he brings. God made and rules the world in such a way that all the categories for understanding the fullness of the Son and the Gospel are woven into reality from all eternity. When the Creator created, he created all things in view of what he wanted to communicate about his Son. He ordained the world, he governs the world to display the realities of redemption.

Edmund Clowney underscores this with the example of Jesus as the bridegroom of his people:

When Jesus came to gather to Himself the people of God, He revealed Himself as the Bridegroom, come to claim His church as His bride. The figure is not accidental. It is not that God looks down from heaven to discern some human relationship that might prove to be a fitting symbol of His love. The reality is the other way around. When God formed Eve from the body of Adam, He was providing the means by which we might be prepared to understand the joy of an exclusive love.

—Edmund P. Clowney, The Unfolding Mystery: Discovering Christ in the Old Testament (P&R: Phillipsburg, 1988), 26.

The Goal of the Law is Christ for Righteousness

Here's my translation of Rom. 10:4: "For the goal of the law is Christ for righteousness to everyone who is believing."

And here's Calvin unpacking of this text (simply marvelous!):

. . . those who seek to be justified by their own works are false interpreters of the law, because the law has been given to lead us by the hand to another righteousness. Indeed, every doctrine of the law, every command, every promise, always points to Christ. We are, therefore, to apply all its parts to Him. . . .

Thus the righteousness of faith (as we saw in the first chapter) is witnessed to by the law. This remarkable passage declares that the law in all its parts has reference to Christ, and therefore no one will be able to understand it correctly who does not constantly strive to attain this mark.

 —The Epistles of Paul the Apostle to the Romans and Thessalonians (Grand Rapids: Paternoster, 1960), 221-222.

I confess that this is my life, my joy, my salvation, my all!