Several years ago, when naming our fledgling church plant, our core group wanted to choose a name that reflected a theological concept essential for our life and witness in metro Washington, D. C. Living in the city at the center of the world's system of power, we realized the significance of the exaltation of Jesus to God's right hand for our context. After some lively discussion, and despite some concerns about accessibility for the general public, our new parish had a name—the Church of the Ascension. The theological weight of this great event had captured our imaginations.

Through the process, I learned that Jesus' ascension is a deeply confusing issue for many Christians. What was the ascension about? Was Jesus defying the laws of gravity to provide one final proof that he is actually the Son of God? Or was it the vertical departure of Jesus' soul to heaven, where we will join him for all eternity? Questions like these revealed a misunderstanding of the ascension and a disconnect between Jesus' ascension and the gospel.

So what is the purpose of Jesus' exaltation to God's right hand? And how does it relate to the gospel?

First, Jesus' exaltation to God's right hand brings the gospel story full circle.

Designed to explain how God brings his reign to the earth, establishing his rule over the nations, Luke's Gospel concludes with Jesus' ascension (Lk. 24:50-53). The ascension wraps up the unfolding story, closing the loop Jesus publicly opened by proclaiming the good news of God's kingdom (Lk. 4:17-21, 43; 8:1). Rising from the dead, Jesus won the decisive battle, defeating death and the Devil, and has been enthroned at God's right hand where he rules over the nations.

Through his death and resurrection, Jesus took what Satan offered him in the wilderness (Lk. 4:5-7). But rather than worshiping Satan to receive authority over the nations, Jesus vanquished his power, establishing God's authority over the kingdoms of the earth. Accordingly, the disciples worshiped Jesus, recognizing that the nations and their glory belong to him and no other (Lk. 24:52; see also Mt. 4:8-9; 28:16-20). Therefore, Jesus' ascension was his enthronement. He now reigns at God's right hand until God's kingdom is fully and finally established on the earth (1 Cor. 15:20-28).

Owing to our emphasis on Jesus' atoning death, we can struggle to integrate Jesus' ascension into our gospel preaching. This tendency isolates Jesus' passion from the subsequent events of Luke's Gospel, interrupting its narrative logic. Luke intentionally links Jesus' death, resurrection, and ascension in order to lead us to specific conclusions regarding Jesus' identity and task. By divorcing events designed to function as parts within a whole, we miss Luke's intentions and truncate our gospel preaching.

Our citizenship within God's kingdom requires Jesus' substitutionary death (Col. 1:13, 20-21; 2:13-14). Incorporating Jesus' ascension into our gospel preaching in no way diminishes the treachery of our sin or the significance of the cross. But emphasis on the cross apart from the resurrection and exaltation of Jesus short-circuits the overarching narrative of the gospel. Jesus' death, resurrection, and ascension are indivisible, essential events within a story. Together they witness to the fulfillment of Jesus' preaching about the coming of God's kingdom to the earth through his Davidic Son.

Second, Jesus' exaltation to God's right hand means that gospel preaching proclaims a royal reality, not strictly a system of salvation's mechanics.

Jesus' exaltation to God's right hand means that preaching the gospel involves proclaiming his lordship over the world to the world. For the apostles, Jesus' death, resurrection, and ascension establish a new state of affairs, or a royal reality, on earth. All people everywhere should "obey" this gospel (Acts 5:32; Rom. 1:5; 15:18; 16:26; 2 Thess. 1:8; 1 Peter 4:17), acknowledging God's reign by confessing, "Jesus is Lord!" (Acts 2:36; 10:36; 16:31; Rom. 10:9, 12; 1 Cor. 12:3; 2 Cor. 4:5; Phil. 2:11; 2 Thess. 1:8). To believe in Jesus is to confess that he is God's rightful king who, through his death and resurrection, has taken up his reign (Eph. 1:19-23; Phil. 2:8-11; 1 Timothy 3:16).

Consider the rhetorical climax of Peter's sermon on Pentecost:

This Jesus God raised up, and of that we all are witnesses. Being therefore exalted at the right hand of God, and having received from the Father the promise of the Holy Spirit, he has poured out this that you yourselves are seeing and hearing. For David did not ascend into the heavens, but he himself says, "The Lord said to my Lord, Sit at my right hand, until I make your enemies your footstool." Let all the house of Israel therefore know for certain that God has made him both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified.

Interpreting the strange work of the Spirit that morning, Peter integrates the death, resurrection, and exaltation into a cohesive account of Jesus' installation as "both Lord and Christ." Per Psalm 110:1, Jesus has taken his seat at God's right hand to rule the earth from heaven. For Peter, Jesus' cross is the way unto his throne where he presently reigns over all (1 Peter 3:18-22).

Jesus' lordship isn't just about his divinity or our personal relationship to him as the one who is sovereign over our lives. The titles ascribed by Peter identify Jesus as the Jewish Messiah—the rightful King, chosen by God, to rule the world (Ps. 2:8; 72:8, 11; Dan. 7:13-14; Zech. 9:9-10). In other words, to proclaim, "Jesus is Lord!" is to state a cosmic reality, affirming an office that Jesus occupies, not simply to express a personal opinion. And, when Peter does so, he is preaching the gospel.

The apostolic sermons, as recorded by Luke, are not mere records of penal substitutionary atonement (Acts 2:14-39; 3:12-26; 4:8-12; 5:29-32; 10:34-43; 13:16-41; 14:15-17; 17:22-31; 20:18-35). While we can deduce the representational, substitutional, and penal nature of Jesus' death from statements within these sermons (Acts 3:18-19; 5:30; 10:39; 13:29, 38; 20:28), it seems apparent that the sermons are not extended theological discourses on the nature of the atonement.

Rather, they narrate the climax of God's covenantal promises, sworn to Israel, through the life, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus. Sitting at God's right hand, Jesus is the reigning Lord who dispenses the Spirit and His gifts (Acts 2:33, 38; 10:44-47). As Lord, he will return to judge and renew the world (Acts 3:20-21; 10:42; 17:31). Jesus' Messianic role as judge is not bad news; it secures the liberation of the creation from sin's pollution (cf. Ps. 2:9; 98:7-9; 132:16-18; Rev. 20:11-21:8). And, at the conclusion of the sermons, the apostles summon everyone to receive the forgiveness of sins, being reconciled to God, through repentance and faith in Jesus' name (Lk. 24:46-47; Acts 2:38; 3:19; 4:12; 5:31; 10:43; 13:38; 16:31; 17:30).

Preaching this gospel involves proclaiming historical events, but gospel preaching is not some history lesson. The key redemptive events—Jesus' death, resurrection, and ascension—lead to the conclusion that he is the Christ, who rules the world in accordance with God's promises to David (2 Sam. 7:10-17; Ps. 2:7-9; 132:11-12; Lk. 1:68-72; Acts 13:32-34). Gospel preaching, reformed according to Scripture, emphasizes the identity and office of Jesus as the result of his death, resurrection, and exaltation by God. Consequently, gospel preaching ends, not in history, but in the bold proclamation of the present reality of Jesus' reign and a summons to align with the true King through repentance and faith.

Third, we share in Jesus' exaltation to God's right hand where we experience the riches of God's grace.  

As the exalted Lord, ruling at God's right hand, all things have been put under Jesus' feet (Ps. 8:6; Eph. 1:23; 1 Cor. 15:27; 1 Peter 3:22). Paul captured this beautifully when he prayed that the church in Ephesus:

may know . . . what is the immeasurable greatness of his power toward us who believe, according to the working of his great might that he worked in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, 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. And he put all things under his feet and gave him as head over all things to the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills all in all.

Paul wants believers to know the power God exercised in Jesus' resurrection and exaltation. He then explains how we experience this power:

But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved—and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus.

Dead in our sins, we once followed the Devil and the course of this world (Eph. 2:1-3). But God raised us from this grave, making us alive together with Christ. United to Jesus, his death has become our death (Eph. 1:7; Rom. 6:3-4; Col. 2:11-12; 3:3), and his life has become ours as well (Eph. 2:5-6; Rom. 6:4-5; 8:11; Col. 2:13, 19; 3:1). What is true of him is now true of us. And, though difficult to comprehend, we are seated with him in heaven now (Eph. 2:6). By God's grace, we participate in Jesus' past, present, and future life, experiencing the benefits of forgiveness (Eph. 1:7), new life in the Spirit (Eph. 1:13; 2:10; 4:24), and the hope of the world to come (Eph. 2:7). But these benefits are ours only through our union with the living, ascended Christ.

Understanding that God's riches flow into our lives through our union with the exalted Christ, our preaching will resist the errors of proclaiming salvation's benefits (soteriology) apart from salvation's history (Messianic Christology) and of proclaiming salvation's history without concern for salvation's application. Salvation is our incorporation into Christ's historical work through faith.

Rightful King

To the extent that we restrict the gospel to salvation's benefits, we unwittingly sever the nerve of the apostolic message. And, to the extent that we identify the gospel solely with the expiation of sin, we truncate our preaching. The riches we inherit in Christ only belong to us because Jesus has taken up his throne after conquering sin, death, and the Devil. These benefits are ours through solidarity with the reigning King who comes as a new Adam to inaugurate a new humanity (Rom. 5:12-21; 1 Cor. 15:20-28; Eph. 4:24; Col. 1:18; 3:10-11).

To proclaim that Jesus is the rightful King of the world is audacious. Sitting at God's right hand, Jesus dismisses all hints of a privatized faith that accepts Jesus as one option among many or as a pragmatic means of self-actualization. To believe in him is not to hold a personal opinion, but rather to profess an objective reality that governs the world.  

To be on the right side of history is to believe that Jesus is Lord. By faith, we confess that the sun does not set upon Jesus' empire, and never will until the sun gives way to God's greater glory (Rev. 21:23). All authority in heaven and earth belongs to him; therefore, go into his inheritance, calling everyone, through repentance and faith, to bring their lives into allegiance with this reality—Jesus is King!

Convictionless churches are empty churches. Sure, it may be cool these days to be noncommittal. Sure, backing off and saying that you "could be wrong" is transparent and will gain you some respect among a skeptical audience. Of course, giving all the possible interpretations of a passage of Scripture or a theological position is educational and disarming. But there is something different about preaching that requires the preacher to present a more anchored hope. It meant much more to the Reformers than, "I am going to stand behind this block of wood and give you some options about what to believe." Simply put, that approach lacks conviction. And even if you are a diehard pragmatist only looking to fill the pews, this is not the way to go about it. Because, frankly, if you have little or  no definite convictions, then you are neither a preacher nor a pastor.

"Give them something to believe." I am told that every time Lewis Sperry Chafer, founder of Dallas Theological Seminary, ended his theology classes, he would say, "Men, give them something to believe." People are looking for something to believe. They want to rest the weight of their anxiety upon something stable. They have enough instability in their lives. They don't want to go to church to hear the preacher teach. They want him to preach. Teaching and preaching are not the same thing. They share quite a bit in the semantic domain of discipleship, but they also are distinct and need to be used intentionally. How are they distinct? Let me give you a few ways:

• Preaching is exhortation; teaching is education.
• Preaching is the discharge of the gospel of hope; teaching is discipleship of the gospel of hope.
• Preaching puts wind in the sails; teaching put an anchor in the ground.
• Preaching raises our eyes to the things we know with great conviction; teaching helps us to understand what things we can have legitimate conviction about.
• Preaching tells you which option is correct; teaching gives you all the options.

But when you're preaching, what do you do when you come to a passage of Scripture and you are unsure about what it means? Let's be honest—this happens quite often. You are preaching through a book of the Bible, and you come to a place where the commentaries do not agree, there seem to be multiple legitimate options concerning its interpretation, and you are left scratching your head. You don't want to be dishonest and just choose an option. And you don't want to deliver a drawn-out sermon on what different denominations teach.

So what do we do? First, my advice, then I will illustrate.

1. Briefly let people know there are multiple options, but don't go through all the options in detail.
2. Briefly tell people which one you are most convinced about and why.
3. Preach with unashamed confidence the principles of the chosen option, giving them something to believe. So long as the principles are true, your integrity before the Lord will be covered.

But how can I preach with "unashamed confidence" something that I am not that confident about? Because the principles put confidence in your voice, even if you remain unsure about the exact understanding of this particular passage.

For example, in John 3, there is a confusing passage about Jesus' encounter with Nicodemus. Jesus is waxing poetic about the new birth and how one must be twice-born to enter the kingdom of God. Nicodemus is confused about this teaching and says, "How can these things be?" Jesus responds with a stern rebuke: "Are you the teacher of Israel and yet you don't understand these things?" (John 3:9-10)

According to Jesus, this teaching should not be new to Nicodemus, someone responsible as a Pharisee for educating Israel. The problem for the interpreter/preacher is that we are not really sure why Jesus comes down so hard on Nicodemus. After all, when we look back into the Old Testament, even with our fancy Bibleworks and Logos electronic study tools, it is hard for us to find the new birth. Some people find the new birth in the new covenant, but that seems problematic since it was still to come. Some people see it in Psalm 87 with reference to the gates of Jerusalem, but this seems entirely too obscure for Jesus to give Nicodemus such a strong rebuke.

In the end, I don't know with certainty the answer, but I think Jesus is talking about the death that came after the fall. Being "born again" has to do with our spiritual life being revitalized through the gospel. God told Adam that the day he ate of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, he and Eve would die (Gen. 2:17). Of course, we all know how that went. He ate. He died. However, we know he did not physically die that day. Physical death became a part of his physiology as he and Eve were restricted from the tree of life (Gen. 3:22). That day, he died spiritually. His relationship with God was cut off. This is death of the soul. It is spiritual separation from God. And in order to enter into God's kingdom, that spiritual death has to be remedied. That can only happen if the spiritually dead person is reborn with regard to his relationship with God. So there you have it. Rebirth is a prominent theological theme in the Old Testament, even if we don't have it explicitly mentioned as such anywhere in the Old Testament.

Am I right? I am not sure. But as the best of the posible options, at least to me, it is the one I preach. And even though I'm uncertain, I retain my integrity. Why? Because even if I am wrong about this particular passage teaching the restoration of the failures of the garden, I am sure that the principles of the reality of spiritual death before God and the restoration of spiritual life are true. Therefore, I am still preaching truth, even if this particular passage is not meant to preach that particular truth. As Robert Chisholm, an old seminary prof of mine, used to say, "Good sermon; wrong text."

Sometimes we need to settle for good sermons with wrong texts. Sometimes we are going to be unsure of the exact interpretation of a passage of Scripture, but we don't have to sacrifice giving our congregations something to believe due to the obscurity of our text. We can still preach the Word with full integrity by focusing on the principles that are universally true even if we end up being wrong about our interpretation. It is important that you let people know there is some legitimate debate and what you are about to preach could be wrong. But assure them that the principles that you preach are not wrong as they are found in other places in Scripture. That is how you preach a sermon when you are not sure what the passage means.

Give them something to believe.

As most evangelicals know, pastor John Piper recently retired after more than 30 years of service at Bethlehem Baptist Church. Our family has been there for less than nine of them. But in that time much good has been done  in our family because of how he preaches and interacts with those under his shepherding.

But Pastor John is not unique in any of these traits. Or to put it as he might, they are not his distinctives. Many pastors would fit this full description. Nevertheless, these traits are all important tools by which Pastor John worked toward his ultimate goal—spreading a passion for the supremacy of God in all things for the joy of all peoples through Jesus Christ.

So here are six reasons I'm glad John Piper has been my family's pastor. All quotes come from his sermons.

1. He is funny.

Pastor John once said that he'd never told a joke in 30 years of giving sermons. I'll admit that I've never heard him tell one. But this is not to say that he never tries to get people to laugh. He does, often and successfully. This makes me glad, because humor is part of life.

I've heard that Pastor John has a reputation as being very serious, and some believe him to be too sober. To these people I suggest that they listen to a sermon or two. Anyone who reads the Gospels can imagine Jesus smiling after speaking some of his declarations and a child giggling with him. It's a good thing to see a son or daughter laugh in the middle of a sermon.

"I've told that story a hundred times and people always laugh. You almost didn't laugh."

"Pride never falls out of a chair in laughter," he would say.

2. He is an actor.

Just to be clear, when I say Pastor John acts, I don't mean that he is in any way fake or false. I mean he doesn't read his sermons straight. He puts much emotion into what he is saying. In a single sermon he might emote anger, sadness, exasperation, confusion, dread, and joy. And much has been said about Pastor John's sermon gestures. It all makes for an interesting experience.

"God can't be boring. The world is boring! Avatar is boring! . . . That's not in the manuscript. It must be of God. You decide."

"I don't want to live in this body for the rest of eternity. I can't see. My wife thinks I can't hear. I can hear, but my wife thinks I can't. It's the fan! It's the fan!"

"I'm scared out of my wits at being a millionaire. That's a weakness. Some people can handle it. I don't have that gift. Like I chew a whole pack of gum immediately. . . Why wouldn't you?"

3. He uses an outline.

When Pastor John preached on the first chapter of John, he said, "It's not wrong to write a story with suspense. This one just doesn't have it." This can be said of Pastor John's sermons as well.

Pastor John not only has an outline when he preaches, he often makes those elements clear from the first paragraphs. And he makes it clear which point he's on, sometimes repeating the previous points. As a dad, I'm grateful for this; it gives my kids an easier way to get a sense of bearing.

"Now, these are going to be a little bit longer. This is going to go up on the Web on Monday afternoon, so you can just relax, you don't need to write this stuff down. If it sounds like it's going to be helpful, just go get it . . . Don't panic."

4. His heart is visible.

We'd been attending Bethlehem about a six months when my nearly 2-year-old son lost part of his pinky in a construction accident. This was a difficult time for our family, and we brought Erik to see Pastor John, who prayed for our son and kissed his bandaged hand. And he told us about a time when his son had been injured.

He can be seen after each sermon ministering, one by one, family by family, to a line of people, some heartbroken, some praising God, some angry, some confused, some questioning. He is unfailingly helpful, gracious, and pleasant.

And when he speaks at our campus there are two young elementary school girls who run to give him a hug right after he gives the benediction. He always greets them joyfully, even when they almost knock him over.

"I'm not saying it's going to be easy," he would say. "I don't have any promises about ease, except that it gets worse. I do have huge promises about joy."

"We want to fly away and be like angels. But we live here, and we change diapers."

"I don't know about you, but I was really helped by my sermon last week."

"Don't think that Jesus is into crowds. Jesus is into individuals. Big time. Like you."

5. He is Bible-centered.

If you listen to a Piper sermon, you can expect to hear the biblical text read right before he begins and at least once more (in parts) during the sermon. He takes apart the Scripture phrase by phrase and word by word and makes it clear that he has wrestled with its meaning. He tries to find texts from the Bible to corroborate what he's saying (starting with the book from which the sermon text is found and going outward), and he makes it clear that we shouldn't trust him if what he's saying can't be found in the Bible.

"In fact, so much is here in verse 31 that I never got to verse 32, from which I took the title to the message."

"When I read things like this in the Bible they jar me. I really love to be jarred by the Bible."

"I don't know what kind of sentimental ideas you have about Jesus. Just read your Bibles and they'll go away."

"Daniel, Hosea, Joel, Amos, Obediah, Jonah, Micah . . . just struggle around until you find it. The minor prophets are the hardest books to find in the bible. Even for me after 64 years."

"This is what preachers do at 5:30 on Friday afternoon—we pound our heads on the desk and say, 'What does this say?'"

6. He is gospel-centered.

The gospel can be broken down into many parts: Jesus is sinless; you can't make it to God on your own; hell is very, very bad; coming to faith is coming to life; you want to be on God's side; every human is deeply sinful; you must accept the gift; heaven is very, very good (because God is there); God has made a way; salvation is a result of grace; the fact that Christ died for you and me is a good that transcends all other goods.

I defy you to listen to any Piper sermon and not find at least two or three of these ideas highlighted. In this respect he is relentless, he is repetitive, he is predictable.

"I came to Christ when I was 6; I'm 64. I'm not optimistic about getting out of sin."

"The problem is, it doesn't do any good to nudge a corpse. If you do that, you can get a corpse to church, but you can't make it alive."

"We're fondling our little roaches, our little scorpions, our little tarantulas. 'They're so fuzzy and warm' . . . and then the light goes on!"

"That's what it's going to be like in heaven. Skin and bouncing balls and lions and lambs lying down together. Dogs. No cats! Well, I guess the lion's a cat."

Pastor Jason Meyer, the man called to replace Pastor John, recently said that a boring mind is the birthplace of a boring sermon. It's clear that John Piper doesn't have a boring mind. It's also clear that he has an intentional mind. And he intends to glorify God.

My family, along with so many others, are eternally grateful. May God bless Pastor John and his family in retirement. All the way to heaven.

Have you ever explored underground caverns? The natural light is dim, so limited sight is a problem, if you can see at all. The more openings you go through and the deeper you descend, the greater the probability you'll be confused, turned around, and lost. Even when your eyes adjust to the darkness, you may still not see the intricate beauty of the natural architecture.

Some Christians read the Old Testament only in dim light. They enter one chapter after another like exploring a cavern, yet they squint and strain their eyes to answer questions. Why is this episode here? Why has the narrator told the scene from this angle? Where is this storyline heading? Why should I care about this long genealogy? How does this prophecy reach fulfillment? How do this character's actions contribute to the plot, to the book, to the canon? Is this text built on earlier ones?

Such interpretive questions (and more) arise for every text, but after certain first-century events something became crystal clear: Jesus is the blazing torch for these caverns. The gospel message, the New Testament from beginning to end, is the light needed to see the glories of what has been there all along in ancient words.

Old Testament as Christian Scripture

Jesus discussed these ancient words with two men on a road outside Jerusalem. "And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself" (Luke 24:27). Wouldn't you like to have the audio of that sermon? Though we don't know exactly what Jesus said, we eagerly agree that he is the goal of the Old Testament.

Where, then, does the Christian faith begin? If you said Matthew, then you missed it by only 39 books. The Christian faith begins where the Bible does, in the beginning. We have 66 books of Christian Scripture that tell the grand story of God's redemption from Genesis to Revelation.

When I first started preaching 14 years ago, most of my sermons showed a severe disregard for the Old Testament. And even when I crafted a message from one of those books, I was not trying to see the passage post-Easter. I handled the Old Testament as if Jesus hadn't come.

Don't read the Old Testament pretending Jesus didn't happen. After Jesus died and rose from the dead, his disciples saw the ancient promises differently. Those promises were no longer suspended in mid-air but became yes in Jesus. The types had found their antitype, the arrows their target, the shadows their Light.

In light of the resurrection, people began to read the Old Testament through a Jesus lens. More precisely, Jesus taught the disciples how to see the Scriptures this way. The Law, Prophets, and Writings spoke about him, so "he opened their minds to understand the Scriptures" (Luke 24:44-45). The disciples needed a resurrection hermeneutic, so Jesus gave them one. The opening of the tomb meant the opening of the Scriptures.

Did people understand the Old Testament before Jesus? Yes and no. Yes, inasmuch as their eyes could see in the dim cavern. But no, for Jesus revealed to his disciples that he is the key to clarity, the piece of the puzzle that sets all the pieces in the right perspective. When the books are played together, they make messianic music.

Do the bloody cross and empty tomb affect how you read the Old Testament? If your hermeneutic is grammatical-historical but not christological, you're not reading the Old Testament as the apostles did, as Jesus taught them to read it.

Shadows and Gospel Light

How does the gospel shine light on the Old Testament?

Jesus is the last Adam, the seed of the woman, the first-fruits of new creation, the obedient son, the one whose blood speaks a better word than Abel's, the mighty ark that delivers from judgment, the offspring of Abraham to bless the nations, the fountain of living water greater than Jacob's well, the mediator of a new covenant that surpasses all previous ones, the redeemer who leads the greatest exodus, the bread that satisfies more than manna, the sacrifice that puts an end to all others, the prophet who says what God says, the suffering servant who bears our transgressions, the high priest who lives forever, the king who rules righteously and wisely, the temple where the fullness of God dwells, the good shepherd who guides and guards the sheep, the light that dispels the shadows, and the life that swallows death.

When we read the Old Testament—which is Christian literature—let us explore its caverns with the torch of the New, with the message of the gospel. Read those ancient words through this lens because Jesus lights the whole thing up.

I have never met some of my best Old Testament professors. I know their names, but not their faces. Over the years, I have met a handful of them in person at conferences and seminars. Still, I have never spoken with most of them. Yet week after week, I have some rich conversations with them as I pore over Joshua or Proverbs or Malachi. They critique my thinking, challenge my conclusions, and sharpen my understanding. I thank God for these teachers who have written commentaries on the various books of the Hebrew Bible—what we Christians refer to as the Old Testament.

Pastors and Bible teachers seem to have an uneasy relationship with Old Testament commentaries, and New Testament commentaries, too. There are two extremes. When my twins, Anna and Ben, were in kindergarten, a teacher asked Ben if he could write his name. He replied, "No, but Anna will do it for me." Some approach commentaries in that fashion, letting these volumes do all their work for them. Others over-react to this approach and swear off using commentaries at all. This saddens me, except in one selfish case. When I was in seminary, I purchased a 25-volume set of Commentaries on the Old Testament by Keil and Delitzsch for $50 from a fellow student who was so committed to doing all of his own exegetical work that he proclaimed a permanent fast from commentaries. I was appalled by his approach; I was delighted by his price.

As a preacher and teacher of Scripture, I love commentaries. The best of them are friends, conversation partners, and guides. Yes, I discipline myself to do my own exegetical work before I consult them. But these commentaries contribute more to my understanding of Scripture than I can ever express.

Long Anticipated

So I was delighted recently when the afternoon mail contained a book I had long anticipated and recently ordered: Old Testament Commentary Survey, fifth edition, by Tremper Longman III (Baker Academic). I bought the first edition when it was  published in 1991, and I have purchased every edition since then—1995, 2003, 2007, and now 2013. If you preach and teach Scripture and are not familiar with this volume, you need to be. It will save you time and money, helping you purchase or borrow the best commentaries for whatever Old Testament book you are studying. For each Old Testament book, Longman lists and rates the best options, using a one- to five-star scale. He also annotates his listing, providing two- to four-sentence remarks on each commentary.

As much as I love Longman's survey, highly recommend it to others, and hope to meet Longman some day to thank him for his labor of love, I did come away a bit disappointed after perusing the latest edition. I have no qualms with his ratings or choices. These reflect his personal perspective, and he says as much in the introduction to his volume. For example, I would give K. Lawson Younger's NIVAC volume on Judges/Ruth at least four and a half stars rather than three and a half stars based on its exegetical, literary, and theological insights. Personally, I would include Ronald B. Allen's fine commentary on Numbers in the Revised Expositor's Bible Commentary, and I cannot imagine leaving out J. P. Fokkelman's magisterial four volumes on Narrative Art and Poetry in the Books of Samuel. But none of Longman's ratings or omissions bothers me. What disappointed me is that the volume was unnecessarily out of date the moment it hit the market. Let me explain.

I understand how publishing works, having released two books with the same publisher who issued Longman's Old Testament Commentary Survey. There is a lag time between the writer's final edits and a book's  release date. So, of course, there will be new commentaries being announced or released between these points. However, I was taken back by the comments under Michael Fox's volume on Proverbs 1-9 in the Anchor-Yale Bible Commentary Series (which were exactly the same as in the fourth edition in 2007). Longman gives it five stars and writes, "The only drawback is that it covers just the first nine chapters. Hopefully, we will not have to wait too long for the rest of the commentary to appear." Uh, that commentary, Proverbs 10-31, was published four years ago—in 2009. I just pulled my volume of the shelf to check the publication date. I'm not sure why this update got overlooked.

It also seems that a volume that gets revised every five years or so could work a little harder at including soon-to-be-released commentaries. Longman actually does this with Hélène Dallaire's Revised Expositor's Bible Commentary volume on Joshua. So I'm wondering why Longman did not include Daniel Block's NIVAC volume on Deuteronomy. It was released in August 2012, and I saw part of it in draft form a couple years earlier. Longman did not give any commentaries on Deuteronomy a five-star rating, so I cannot imagine he deemed Block's commentary to be less significant than some of the others commentaries he lists. Likewise, I find it hard to believe that galleys or page proofs of Barry G. Webb's 2012 contribution to the NICOT series on The Book of Judges would not have been available for review in time for the release of the fifth edition of Old Testament Commentary Survey. In my mind, Longman's survey is so important and helpful to pastors that it makes sense for more effort to be spent on keeping each revision as current as possible.

Annual Commentary Survey

However, despite this flaw, I still recommend that pastors and teachers surf their way immediately to their favorite internet book distributor and order a copy. While you are surfing the web, be sure to check out Denver Seminary's Denver Journal for their "Annotated Old Testament Bibliography—2013." In this bibliography, M. Daniel Carroll R., Hélène Dallaire, and Richard S. Hess have provided a "commentary survey" every bit as valuable as the one provided by Tremper Longman III. In fact, because it gets updated annually, it will be even more useful in 2014, in 2015, and in each year that Longman's survey becomes more dated. The bibliography by the Denver Seminary trio of Old Testament scholars also includes recommendations on about every category you can imagine in Old Testament studies—archaeology, Hebrew lexicons, Hebrew grammars, history of Israel, Old Testament theology, and so on.

Some have found John Glynn's Commentary and Reference Survey (Kregel, 2007) helpful. But as best I can tell, it was last updated in 2007. I have not used A Guide to Biblical Commentaries and Reference Works, ninth edition, by John F. Evans (Doulos Resources, 2010), so I am not in a position to comment on it.

I am thankful for the Old Testament commentaries we have available and that they seem to be getting more useful for pastors. The more recent commentaries pay more attention to the literary and theological dimensions of the text than older ones did. Also, we are seeing more fruits of text-linguistic analysis in some of them (for example, see David Tsumura's NICOT volume on The First Book of Samuel).

There are a couple of new series to watch as well. One is the Reformation Commentary on Scripture (RCS)—a counter-part of sorts to the Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture series. So far, two RCS volumes on the Old Testament have been released. The first was Ezekiel, Daniel by Carl L. Beckwith, and the second was Genesis 1-11 by John L. Thompson. I have used both of these and found them helpful. Also, Baker is just beginning to release its Teach the Text series, and the first Old Testament volume—1 & 2 Samuel by Robert B. Chisholm Jr.—is outstanding. This series targets pastors and teachers. Another series to watch is the Kregel Exegetical Library. So far, one volume has been published: Psalms, Volume 1 by Allen P. Ross. The volume on Judges, Ruth by Robert B. Chisholm Jr. is due for release this mnth.

As D. A. Carson has written in his book Exegetical Fallacies, "We are dealing with God's thoughts: we are obligated to take the greatest pains to understand them truly and to explain them clearly." So the next time you teach an Old Testament book (which I pray is soon), make sure to invite three or four Old Testament professors into your study . . . via their commentaries. If you're not sure who to invite to the table, let Tremper Longman III or the Old Testament professors at Denver Seminary offer you some advice.

Have you ever noticed that Daniel tends to be more popular among children than among pastors? There's a simple reason, Sidney Greidanus believes: "Daniel is one of the most difficult books for preachers."

Written to help "busy preachers and Bible teachers proclaim the good news of Daniel," Greidanus's new volume, Preaching Christ from Daniel: Foundations for Expository Sermons (Eerdmans, 2012), is a welcome companion for anyone seeking to preach textually faithful, Christ-centered, applicational sermons from this enigmatic blend of narrative and apocalypse.

I corresponded with Greidanus, professor emeritus of preaching at Calvin Theological Seminary in Grand Rapids, Michigan, about major themes in Daniel, whether the angel in the fiery furnace (and lions' den) was a pre-incarnate Christ, how to preach Daniel 7-12 without boring people to tears, and more. Once you've finished reading, be sure to check out our new page of resources devoted to Preaching Christ in Daniel—complete with commentaries, articles, workshops, and sermons by Tim Keller, Sinclair Ferguson, Peter Gentry, John Piper, and many more.

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What are the most common evangelical oversights or misunderstandings related to Daniel?

Historically, a major misunderstanding has been using Daniel's apocalyptic chapters to predict the end of the world. For example, in the 1840s Williams Miller understood the 2,300 days of Daniel 8 as 2,300 years and concluded Christ would return sometime between March 21, 1843, and March 21, 1844. In the 1970s Hal Lindsey, in his Late Great Planet Earth, used Daniel's visions to support his arguments for the end of the world. Recently California radio host Harold Camping declared on billboards: "Save the Date. Return of Christ. May 21, 2011."

But the main evangelical misunderstanding today is that Daniel presents a series of moral tales. Even good evangelical commentaries nudge pastors into making moralizing applications. ("Moralizing" is to draw one or more morals from the preaching text contrary to the author's original intent.) For example, one prominent evangelical commentator asserts: "Nebuchadnezzar is an example—a warning of how not to be led astray by power and achievement, a model of how to respond to chastisement and humiliation." Another applies Nebuchadnezzar's words in Daniel 4:2 thus:

"It is my pleasure" shows that it was a true joy for the king to share what God had done in his life—delivered him from madness. This should be the attitude of any believer. If God has done something wonderful, an individual should be delighted to share that experience with others.

Still another applies Nebuchadnezzar's lifting his eyes to heaven (Dan. 4:34) to the need for pastors to help their people "look away from themselves, their emotions and moods, their difficulties and mental problems, and 'fix both eyes' . . . on the mercy of God alone." It's not likely, however, that Daniel would have the exiles identify with and imitate the very person who brought them into captivity and destroyed God's city and temple.

Daniel and his friends are more likely characters for Israel's identification, but here, too, we must be careful not to isolate textual fragments for imitation. For example, when the king says of Daniel that he's "endowed with the spirit of the holy gods" (Dan. 4:8), one evangelical commentator applies this phrase moralistically: "Daniel's qualification for interpreting dreams was that God dwelt within him, and this is the prerequisite for spiritual understanding today." Another uses Daniel's appearance before the king (the same verse 8!) to make the point that we all need a good friend: "The fact that Daniel was there with this man at this time is a reminder to us about our own need for each other at times when things, in a similar way, are hard for us, and difficult to understand." Moralizing can spin the application in almost any direction. Although these applications aren't necessarily unbiblical in themselves, they fail to respect the specific genre of the redemptive-historical narrative as well as the goal (purpose/intention) of the inspired biblical author.

What is Daniel's primary theme and goal?

Despite modern arguments to the contrary, there are good reasons for maintaining Daniel was written in the sixth century B.C. to exiled Israel in Babylon. Therefore, we ought to determine Daniel's original theme and goal within that historical context.

Throughout his book Daniel emphasizes the sovereignty of God: God is in control and able to save those faithful to him—even from certain death (e.g., Daniel's friends from the fire and Daniel himself from the lions). On a broader level, God is in control of earthly empires, using their actions to further his own plan, enabling Babylon to capture Judah (Dan. 1:2), judging evil rulers while protecting his suffering people, and in the end bringing his perfect kingdom on earth. Daniel's primary theme, then, is this: Our sovereign God controls events in this world, judging and protecting individuals as well as world empires, until he establishes his perfect kingdom on earth (cf. Dan. 2:44; 7:13-14, 27).

Since Daniel originally addressed his messages to Israelites suffering exile in Babylon, his chief goal was to comfort and encourage God's people with the news that, despite appearances to the contrary, God was still in control.

Should we identify the angel in the furnace or the lions' den with a pre-incarnate Christ?

To identify this particular angel with the pre-incarnate Christ is not wrong. In fact, traditionally this has been a common way of "preaching Christ" from Daniel 3 and 6. But identifying the angel with the pre-incarnate Christ still leaves the sermon in the Old Testament. For the church in the New Testament, preaching Christ meant preaching the incarnate Christ: Jesus' birth, ministry, death, resurrection, ascension, rule at God's right hand, presence with us today in the Spirit, and imminent return. Therefore, I define preaching Christ as "preaching sermons which authentically integrate the message of the text with the climax of God's revelation in the person, work, and/or teaching of Jesus Christ as revealed in the New Testament."

What major biblical themes are picked up and developed in Daniel? How do such themes relate to the growing messianic expectation throughout the Old Testament?

Some of the major biblical themes picked up in Daniel include the sovereign Lord guiding his faithful people, even in exile (Dan. 1; cf. Joseph in exile in Egypt); delivering his faithful children (Dan. 3, 6); giving earthly kingdoms to whomever he wills (Dan. 4, 5); in the end replacing all human kingdoms with his everlasting kingdom (Dan. 2, 7, 9); ultimately raising his people from the dead, exalting them in his kingdom (Dan. 10:1-12:4); and promising everlasting life to his people who persevere to the end (Dan. 12:5-13).

Several themes especially reinforce the growing messianic expectation in the Old Testament. These include belief that the sovereign Lord will in the end replace all human kingdoms with his everlasting kingdom (Dan. 2, 7, 9) and give his kingdom to a divine son of man (Dan. 7:13-14) and to his people (Dan. 7:27) whom he will raise from the dead, exalting them and giving them everlasting life (Dan. 12:2-3).

How can we preach Daniel 7-12 without our sermons sounding like boring history lessons?

Many commentators state that Daniel 11, with its many historical details, cannot be preached. (John Calvin devoted 100 pages and nine lectures to analyzing chapter 11.) But chapter 11 is part of Daniel's final vision running from 10:1-12:13. Since each vision of Daniel has a powerful theme, I'd concentrate on that theme rather than getting stuck in the historical details. With Daniel 11, for example, I'd just mention the reason Daniel goes into so much historical detail (God controls even the details of human history) and then proceed to Daniel 12:1-4, which communicates the primary message.

What advice would you give pastors planning to preach through Daniel's visions considering that their members likely hold to several different understandings of the end times?

Although the different presuppositions of Reformed and dispensational scholars certainly influence their interpretation (see the commentaries), the pulpit isn't for attacking the beliefs of the hearers. Such attacks are counterproductive anyway, since they raise the hearers' defenses such that they won't listen to the message. The pulpit is for preaching God's message in the text to the best of one's ability. Don't major in minors; focus on the main theme in each of Daniel's visions. Under the faithful preaching of the Word and the influence of the Holy Spirit, I expect (and have experienced) that the members of the congregation will become more likeminded.

I just finished co-writing a book on preaching, along with my friend Phil Campbell. I have to admit that writing a book about preaching makes me uncomfortable. I know there are all kinds of do's and don't's and useful tips and techniques. There are plenty of helpful things to say about biblical theology, and pace, and illustrations, and approach, and so on. But my biggest fear in putting all this down on paper is that it makes it sound as if preaching is all about the preacher—what we say and how we say it. But it isn't.

Everyone who has ever preached regularly knows something about the mystery of the sermon that you thought was brilliantly constructed but fell completely flat. In God's kindness, you may also have listened to yourself giving a really dud sermon and then led someone to become a Christian (I much prefer those days). Why does that happen? It's because God works through preaching. We need to remember that, and we need to remember to rely on him for that. How?

Prayer.

Not a New Problem

My guess is that people in almost every generation have worried prayer was going out of fashion. "People are much more self-reliant than they used to be," our grandparents said. Then our parents said the same thing. And now you might be thinking it, too. I suppose it's part of living in a fallen world. But even so, I think our generation, in the second decade of the 21st century, faces some particular challenges when it comes to encouraging God's people to keep praying.

When I was a student in Aberdeen in northern Scotland in the late 1980s, the main obstacle to getting out of bed in the morning to pray was the freezing cold, since the heating didn't work. Although now living in Brisbane has greatly reduced the thermal challenges, 25 years later I face a whole new set of temptations every morning.

Now when I wake up in the morning not only would I rather stay in bed, but also my phone is right there, calling me. I can check e-mails and sports scores from the northern hemisphere, read the news, and even play Scrabble if the mood takes me. I can read my favorite blog posts, catch up on Zite, check the weather radar, look to see who's on Skype across the world. Or I could get up and pray. But even if I make it out of bed, the millions of potentially distracting details only a touch away continue to clamor for my attention. Facebook and Twitter are just two of them. But even when I've successfully negotiated all of this, fully awaken, have a cup of coffee in my hand, and prepare to concentrate, I've wasted at least 20 minutes and feel the pressure to "get on" for Sunday. So what do I do? I start to read or write (rather than pray).

I know the temptation to skip prayer for other "more productive" activity is not new. It's just incredibly easy now—distractions are literally at our fingertips. And nowhere is that challenge more obvious than when it comes to praying for (and before) preaching.

I could be wrong, but I strongly suspect that preachers are praying less today too. They (we) are certainly talking less about it than, say, 20 years ago. And while it's true that there has been a significant resurgence of biblical preaching, I'm not sure this trend has been accompanied by a resurgence in praying—and especially not prayer about preaching.

Gradually, we seem to be losing sight of the fact that God uses weak and sinful people, and that he uses them only by grace. Yes, we may sow, plant, and water—but only God gives growth. That's true in your local church and mine. It's also true of every podcast and ebook and conference address under the sun. God doesn't use people because they are gifted. He uses people (even preachers) because he is gracious.

Do we actually believe that? If we do believe it, then we will pray—we will pray before we speak, and we will pray for others before they speak. It's that simple.

Double Challenge

Let me give you a straightforward double challenge.

First, whatever your habit has been in the past, resolve that from now on you will pray for your own preaching. Perhaps you've been totally consistent in this prayer. However, if you are part of the (large?) number of Bible teachers who would be rather embarrassed (or deeply ashamed?) if someone announced the amount of time and energy you put into praying through and for the sermon before you stood up to speak, this may be a great time to hit the reset button and repent.

Second, make sure your church prays together for the preaching. I haven't done any research on this topic, but I suspect that the church prayer meeting is rapidly in decline. The growth of the home group is a really good thing, but it comes with a cost. In my experience, the cost is that the "prayer" part of the home group is always weaker than the study part. The net result is that we pray more for my Aunt Nelly's next-door neighbor's friend's daughter than we do for the proclamation of the message of Jesus. (And it's not that my Aunt Nelly's next-door neighbor's friend's daughter doesn't need prayer—I am arguing for both/and rather than either/or). It's worth checking—is there a dedicated time during the week when people from your church gather specifically to pray for your core business? If not, please start one.

So, then, whether you preach or hear the Word preached, devote yourselves to prayer and to preaching. In Acts 6, the outcome of such double devotion for the early church included the increase of the Word of God, of disciples, and of obedience.

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This excerpt comes from Gary Millar and Phil Campbell's forthcoming book Saving Eutychus, which will be released during TGC's 2013 National Conference, where Millar will preach from Luke 22:39-23:43 on "Jesus Betrayed and Crucified." You'll be able to purchase Saving Eutychus, along with thousands of other titles by conference speakers and various authors at our LifeWay Conference Bookstore.

In Judas's notorious betrayal and Peter's equally notorious denial in Luke 22, you have two case studies of people who fail and abandon Jesus. And you see in both cases that they aren't along for the tough times. They may be chosen disciples, but when times get hard, you see why they are really following Jesus. And both of them have an unspoken expectation of Jesus that he doesn't fulfill. Neither had joined up to accompany him to a cross. They'd seen great things, they'd done great things, but they weren't up for suffering and death. It turned out they loved Jesus for what he gave them and not truly for himself.

Lots of people say they want to follow Jesus. Chances are that if you're reading this, you want to follow Jesus. But the reasons why you want to follow Jesus will only become clear in the hard times.

After all, it's easy to follow Jesus when things are good. Everyone likes God when life is going along as you had hoped. But when you're not getting the things you want, will you still follow him? When it looks as if following him is going to bring you benefit, it's fine. But when it becomes obvious that faith will cost you, what will you do?

In the end, it boils down to this: do we love God, or do we love the things that he does for us? It's worth asking ourselves:

• What happens to my relationship with God when he isn't giving me the things I think I need in order to be happy?
• Have I ever complained to God that I've got it a lot worse than people who aren't Christians, or people I feel are less mature or servant-hearted Christians? 

If the answer's yes, then you've got something in common with me—and you've got a little Judas and Peter in you. It's so easy to betray Jesus in the ordinary course of life. If you choose to believe the lie that Jesus isn't enough, or if you believe that he isn't living up to your expectations, it's a subtle but real form of betrayal. It's so easy to make big promises to God on Sunday, only to see them crumble when you are with your co-workers on Monday morning, or meeting up with friends on Tuesday evening.

But the call to follow Jesus is a call to endure and even suffer for his sake. It's a call to deny what's easiest for you, and give up earthly comfort; a call to follow him and trust the course that he sets even when it seems that it's not "working" (Luke 9 v 23-24).

The Difference

Two disciples betray Jesus. Yet one has gone down in history as the ultimate villain, while the other went on to become a hero. Why?

What they did next made the difference. Matthew's Gospel tells us the next and final part of Judas's life:

When Judas, who had betrayed him, saw that Jesus was condemned, he was seized with remorse and returned the thirty silver coins to the chief priests and the elders. "I have sinned," he said, "for I have betrayed innocent blood." "What is that to us?" they replied. "That's your responsibility." So Judas threw the money into the temple and left. Then he went away and hanged himself. (Matthew 27:3-5)

Too late, Judas changed his mind. He may well have shed tears, just like Peter. Certainly he felt great guilt. He regretted what he had done and the consequences. But that was it. We never see him ask for forgiveness or turn to live for God. He just felt remorse, and it sent him to his death.

Peter, on the other hand, repented. He wept bitter tears for his sins, but he didn't just weep. You can tell that he repented for his sins because his life changed after that moment. He became bold and courageous for Christ. After the crucifixion, he joined with the other disciples for prayer. He was the first disciple to enter the empty tomb. After Jesus' resurrection from the dead, Peter was reconciled to him and received forgiveness from him, just as Jesus had predicted (Luke 22 v 32).

And so later on in his life, Peter could testify to the way that Jesus' death had secured forgiveness for people far from God: "For Christ died for sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, to bring you to God" (1 Peter 3:18).

4 Ways to Respond

Judas and Peter's guilt were the same: their responses were very different. When you stumble—whether it's an obvious moral failure you can't hope to hide, or a subtle pattern of pride that you don't want to admit—how do you respond?

Judas and Peter show us there are four options:

• Like the religious leaders, you can focus all your energies on the things you don't like about other people. Instead of dealing with their own issues, they obsessed over getting Jesus.
• You can try to make up for your mistakes, like Judas giving back the money he had received. The problem is, of course, that you can't un-ring a bell, and you can't undo your sins.
• You can give in to despair, stew in your guilt, and let it eat you alive, as Judas did.
• Or you can repent, as Peter did. You can bring your sin before God for mercy and put things in place that will help you change the way you live.

Only the last of these paths leads to life. And it only leads to life because of the One who loved the betrayer even as he betrayed him; who looked at the denier even as he denied him; and then went to the cross to die the death of a guilty man. Stop and think about this: Jesus loved Peter enough to die for him. And he loves you just as much, no matter how many times you stumble and fall and weep and turn back. He takes your guilt and makes it so that in God's sight you never sinned. That's the kind of friend you and I need, but can never deserve. Yet in Jesus, that is the kind of friend we have.

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Passion: How Christ's Final Day Changes Your Every Day is written by Mike McKinley and published by The Good Book Company. Order a copy for $9.99 (a saving of 23 percent).

When deciding what book of the Bible I would preach as a new pastor of a fairly young church, a friend suggested I select one of the Gospels. "Give them Jesus," he said. "Give them his life, death, and resurrection." That seemed wise. So I chose the Gospel of Luke and last week finished preaching Luke 17. That same week, coincidentally, I received a copy of Preaching the New Testament, which included a chapter by D. A. Carson on "Preaching the Gospels." To my discouragement, Carson cautioned young pastors like me against starting a long sermon series like the one I was more than halfway through. According to Carson, "younger or less experienced preachers, just starting out, need to learn the discipline and power of expository preaching in their own experience, but usually do not yet enjoy the gifts that warrant long series, even though they sometimes think they do."

Whoops!

Thankfully I also had a copy of Carson's New Testament Commentary Survey, essentially a commentary on commentaries. It's been helpful to choose from a handful of trustworthy commentaries that someone has already surveyed and reviewed. It's like having D. A. Carson as your personal assistant (please don't tell him I said that).

After The Gospel Coalition National Conference next month on His Mission: Jesus in the Gospel of Luke, some of you may be inspired to preach or teach from Luke. Thanks to Baker Academic, a new edition of Caron's New Testament Commentary Survey is coming soon, and the publisher has given us permission to reproduce the section on Luke's Gospel. If you'd like Carson's exhaustive survey on commentaries on Luke, see this PDF.

Here, however, you can read about the top five Luke commentaries suggested by Carson, along with his commentary.

The Gospel of Luke is now well served by several major commentaries. Pride of place goes to the two volumes of Darrell L. Bock (BECNT; 1994-96). It is comprehensive, well-written, and intelligent. If you buy this pair by Bock, you do not need the other two commentaries on Luke that he has written. Almost as good, but now more dated, is the commentary by Joseph A. Fitzmyer (AB; 2 vols., 1981-85). The work is a masterpiece of learning, and written with clarity and verve. Not all will be persuaded by the author's positions on dating, sources, and details of historicity, but there are few questions Fitzmyer has not thought deeply about, and his competence in the Semitic parallels informs his work throughout. No less learned is the large commentary by I. Howard Marshall (NIGTC; 1978). Unfortunately the prose is so densely packed, owing not least to the fact that the notes are incorporated into the text, that some will make heavy weather of it. Moreover, it presupposes reasonable proficiency in the Greek text. Those with the requisite skills will benefit greatly from reading it.

Joel Green has filled in the lacuna in the NIC series (1997) with a commentary of almost one thousand pages. It is full of thoughtful interaction with contemporary scholarship, but I do not think it is either as rigorous or as accurate as the work of Bock. Its forte is narrative historiography or discourse analysis. At times it reads like a series of essays, and occasionally it is a bit difficult for the user to discover just what Green says on particular points. Indeed, Green's almost exclusively literary reading means (for instance) that he downplays discussion about the relation between Luke and the other Synoptics, including the major historical issues implicit in such discussions. Occasionally he sidles into sociological considerations, but otherwise his literary reading controls the agenda and makes even this very large commentary seem narrow, confining, and sometimes skewed. The commentary by David E. Garland (ZECNT; 2011) adheres tightly to the series format, making this commentary simultaneously quite strong at the exegetical level and helpful at the homiletical level. The series format ensures that this commentary is a tad verbose, but at 1,039 pages Garland has space to address most issues.

Having used Green's commentary, I agree with Carson—I argue with Green more than any other writers on Luke. At the same time, Green's commentary has helped me ask questions about the text that I normally would not ask. More than other commentators, Green tends to highlight the social consequences of Jesus' arrival. In this way he helps preachers see how the gospel affects our community life with one another. And while I'm not always thrilled with how or why he gets to his conclusions, he tends to ask more "preacher questions" than other critical commentaries, which makes it a great conversation partner, rather than strictly a reference guide. Plus, Green writes well, while others read like, well, commentaries.

While we're discussing Luke, I can also commend for your listening pleasure Dick Lucas's Tuesday lunch devotions. They're not sermons and tend to be shorter (20 to 25 mins), but it often seems like Lucas has come straight from his personal devotions to these meetings with business leaders. And as a gifted and experienced expositor, Lucas always gives you a good sense of the text.

So whether you want to read in preparation for the National Conference or teach Luke when you return home, let Carson's commentary on the commentaries help you study wisely.

Preaching Christ in the Old Testament has become a topic of great interest among evangelical preachers today. While this is by no means a new issue, our desire to faithfully proclaim the whole counsel of God in a gospel-centered or Christ-centered way has led to a growing renewal in understanding how we can rightly "find" Christ in the Old Testament. Almost without exception, those who teach and write on preaching Christ from the Old Testament emphatically reject the use of allegory in preaching from the Old Testament (see for example, Edmund Clowney, Preaching Christ from All of Scripture, and Sidney Greidanus, Preaching Christ from the Old Testament, Preaching Christ from Genesis, and Preaching Christ from Ecclesiastes).

The question needs to be raised, however, whether the stigma associated with allegory and the outright rejection of preaching allegorically from the Old Testament should be maintained. Clowney notes that many preachers warned about preaching allegorically have also shied away from identifying people, places, events, or themes in the Old Testament as types (Preaching Christ from All of Scripture, 31). The history of biblical interpretation sheds some helpful light on this question. In particular, because the Reformation had such a significant effect on how we read and preach the Bible today, it is worth considering whether John Calvin and his contemporaries would have share the same reluctance to preach allegory from the Old Testament.

Different Understanding

First, it is important to recognize that the most common understanding of "allegory" today differs from the way the reformers—and their predecessors—understood it. Most of us likely assume that allegory allows preachers to make the text say whatever they want. We understand allegory to be an arbitrary metaphor that finds a symbolic meaning of some spiritual truth in certain features of a biblical passage without any regard for the context or meaning of that passage.

To distinguish from symbolic meanings that are in the Old Testament, it has become common to use the term "typology" to refer to representations based on a historical reality that anticipate another future historical reality. The straightforward differentiation between these terms, however, originated in the 20th century as an aspect of the modern interest in the historical concerns of biblical interpretation. (See, for example, Aubrey Spears, "Preaching the Old Testament" in Hearing the Old Testament, 396. For a helpful summary and critique of the agenda behind these kinds of claims, see J. Todd Billings, The Word of God for the People of God, 149-194.) This simple distinction between allegory, which ignores history, and typology, which is based on history, is currently being challenged, particularly because interpreters throughout history did not refer to "allegories" or "types" in this way.

Until recently, it was widely accepted that in the fourth century two "schools of exegesis" established two different approaches to interpreting the Bible. The Alexandrians, such as Origen, Clement, and Cyril, favored the use of allegorical interpretation. The Antiochenes, such as Diodore, Theodore Mopsuestia, and Chrysostom, rejected allegory and favored literal and historical interpretation. The stated contrast between these two traditions then provided the basis for assessing the Reformation as characterized by "the widespread rejection of allegory . . . that represented a kind of return to the hermeneutical principles of the Antiochene school" (Al Wolters, "The History of Old Testament Interpretation: An Anecdotal Survey" in Hearing the Old Testament, 33.)

Blurry Boundaries

However, this portrayal is oversimplified. The boundaries between these two traditions are much blurrier. Both traditions had similar training for how to interpret the Bible. Both employed allegorical methods. And the later exegetical tradition incorporated elements and interpretations from interpreters of both these traditions. As a result, the reformers' primary reaction against allegory, was its abuse—not its existence.

The changes in biblical interpretation during the Reformation were part of a gradual shift toward a stronger emphasis on the literal sense of Scripture that had already begun as early as the 13th century. During the Middle Ages, the primary approach to interpreting the Bible was the "fourfold sense" of Scripture. The fourfold approach sought to find multiple meanings in each text. This approach was often summarized by a poetic verse, "The letter teaches what happened, allegory what you should believe, the moral what you should do, anagogy to what you should aim" (Henri de Lubac, Medieval Exegesis: The Four Senses of Scripture).

In theory, though not always in practice, the three spiritual senses were to be built on the literal sense. However, as the reformers pointed out, many in the exegetical tradition had departed from the genuine sense of Scripture by inventing all kinds of allegories that obscured the literal sense. It was this abuse of allegories (as well as the abuse of the other spiritual senses) that they rejected, and not simply the use of allegory itself.

The reformers certainly did not disallow the practice of discerning "what you should believe" from Old Testament passages. Rather they retained the components of the fourfold sense by relocating them within a more expansive understanding of the literal sense that contained a message concerning what Christians should believe, do, and hope. Sometimes they connected the teaching of the Old Testament to the teaching of the New Testament by allegory. But they did not assume that allegory had to be disconnected from the literal or historical sense. That was in fact what they abhorred about the way it had been used.

Calvin and other Reformed interpreters allowed for and approved of allegorical interpretations, but only if they were simple, useful for instruction, and consistent with the New Testament (For further analysis of Calvin's approach to allegorical interpretation, see John L. Thompson, "Calvin as Biblical Interpreter," in The Cambridge Companion to John Calvin, ed. Donald K. McKim, 67-70; Raymond Blacketer, The School of God: Pedagogy and Rhetoric in Calvin's Interpretation of Deuteronomy, 220-232, 269; T.H. L. Parker, Calvin's Old Testament Commentaries, 70-82; David L. Puckett, John Calvin's Exegesis of the Old Testament, 105-113; Sujin Pak, The Judaizing Calvin: Sixteenth-Century Debates over the Messianic Psalms, 77-101.) Calvin's use of allegory was more limited than most of his predecessors, as well as his use of typology. He rarely labeled his interpretations as allegory, but instead referred to them using rhetorical categories or calling them analogies, metaphors, and applications. However, he did not entirely reject allegory as one way of teaching what Christians ought to believe from the Old Testament.

A few examples from Calvin's comments on Genesis reveal ways he taught the Old Testament that many preachers today would hesitate to follow because they might get chastised for preaching allegorically. Calvin actually affirmed "Ambrose's allegory" that just as Jacob received the blessing because the odor of his older brother's clothes pleased his father, so also Christians are blessed when we receive from Christ, our older brother, "the robe of righteousness, which by its odor procures [our heavenly Father's] favor" (John Calvin, Genesis: The Crossway Classic Commentaries, 239). He identified that "Jacob at that time represented the person of Christ" because Christ was figuratively speaking in his body when God promised that all nations would be blessed in him (Genesis, 250). He taught that the angel who wrestled with Jacob "must be understood to refer to Christ . . . because he has been and is the perpetual mediator" (Genesis, 360). And Calvin affirmed that "in the person of Joseph, a living image of Christ is presented" (Genesis, 296). These are just a few cases where Calvin offered symbolic interpretations not explicitly identified in the New Testament or connected to historical matters. Calvin and other Reformed interpreters used several methods to connect Old Testament texts to the larger divine context in order to explain how they pointed to Christ and his church. Sometimes they made these connections by teaching that the words further symbolized a greater truth.

Renewed Way

So what would Calvin say to preachers today? On the one hand, Calvin thought it was frivolous and often unnecessary or unfruitful to look for allegories. He stressed the simple sense of Scripture, which allegories could too easily distort. He felt that allegories had often been used as a shortcut to Christ that didn't take the original message seriously enough.

Yet on the other hand, he did not entirely reject allegories when they could be used appropriately. If we insist on defining "allegory" as arbitrary and disconnected from history, then of course, Calvin would rightly reject that kind of preaching. But if we acknowledge that "allegory" is a way to perceive symbolic representations of "what you should believe" beyond the surface level, then we may be able to connect appropriate features in an Old Testament passage with a greater truth revealed in Christ.

In fact, good preaching mandates that we do more than simply recount a historical sense of text, but rather we must also proclaim how this particular word from God teaches us what to believe, what it calls us to do, and where we should place our hope. The real issue—both today and in Calvin's time—is that we avoid arbitrary and completely subjective readings of the text. But rather than following a modern redefinition of "allegory" that makes it pejorative and forces us to rule out the practice altogether, perhaps we need to refine our approach to allow for identifying simple, useful, and suitable representations in the text that symbolically point to a greater truth.

Even as cautious as Calvin was in his limited use of allegory, he still wanted interpreters and preachers to recognize all the elements in God's unfolding story that point us to Christ. The reformers' call to correct the abuses of allegory still resounds today, but perhaps we need to hear it again in a renewed way.