If you're looking for a way to critique the authority of Scripture, there are seemingly endless options. There are historical critiques (e.g., many of these books are forgeries). There are logical critiques (e.g., the Gospels contradict themselves). There are moral critiques (e.g., God is immoral to order the slaughter of entire cities). And there are hermeneutical critiques (e.g., no one can agree on what the Bible means).

In recent years, however, a more foundational challenge has arisen. All of the above critiques are essentially the same; they all argue the words of the Bible are not true. But this newer and more foundational challenge is not about whether the words of the Bible are true, but whether we have the words of the Bible at all.    

At the core of this challenge is the fact that we only have handwritten copies of these books we treasure. And, in reality, we only have copies of copies of copies. And given that scribes made mistakes, and that the transmission process was imperfect, how can we be sure that these texts have been preserved? How can we be sure we actually have the words of Scripture?

Bart Ehrman's best-selling book Misquoting Jesus focuses on this issue as it pertains to the New Testament text: 

What good is it to say that the autographs (i.e., the originals) were inspired? We don't have the originals! We have only error-ridden copies, and the vast majority of these are centuries removed from the originals and different from them . . . in thousands of ways. 

If Ehrman is correct, then he has uncovered the single thread that would unravel the entire garment of the Christian faith. There is no need to critique the content of the New Testament if we don't even have the New Testament.

But is this argument cogent? I think not. There are two places it can be challenged: (1) the role of the autographs and (2) the degree of corruption in the extant manuscripts.

Role of the Autographs

Ehrman's focus on the autographs (or the absence of them) is not unusual in modern critiques of biblical authority. However, this sort of argument often creates the impression (even if it is unintentional) that the autographs are the original text—almost as if the original text were a physical object that has been lost.   

But the original text is not a physical object. The autographs contain the original text, but the original text can exist without them. A text can be preserved in other ways. One such way is that the original text can be preserved in a multiplicity of manuscripts. In other words, even though a single surviving manuscript might not contain (all of) the original text, the original text could be accessible to us across a wide range of manuscripts.  

Preserving the original text across multiple manuscripts, however, could only happen if there were enough of these manuscripts to give us assurance that the original text was preserved (somewhere) in them. Providentially, when it comes to the quantity of manuscripts, the New Testament is in a class all its own. Although the exact count is always changing, currently we possess more than 5,500 manuscripts of the New Testament in Greek alone. No other document of antiquity even comes close.

Even though we do not possess the autographs, textual scholars have acknowledged that the multiplicity of manuscripts allows us to access the original text. Eldon Jay Epp notes, "The point is that we have so many manuscripts of the NT . . . that surely the original reading in every case is somewhere present in our vast store of material."

Gordon Fee concurs: "The immense amount of material available to NT textual critics . . . is their good fortune because with such an abundance of material one can be reasonably certain that the original text is to be found somewhere in it." 

Of course, one might wonder why God chose to preserve the text in this manner. Why not just preserve the autographs? Why didn't God just allow Christians to keep the autographs sealed away in a vault somewhere? For one, it is historically unlikely that the autographs could have survived until the present day, especially if they were being regularly used.

But it is also possible that God may have not wanted the autographs to survive. One can imagine how easily (and quickly) such documents would become objects of veneration, if not worship. They might have become the equivalent of Gideon's ephod (Judges 8:27)—a good gift the people begin to treat as an idol.

Of course, we cannot know for sure why God providentially did not preserve the autographs. But, in one sense, it is fitting. It reminds us that the Word of God, like God himself, is not bound to a physical location or to a physical object. It is a Word that is not contained. It is a Word that goes forth.

Corruption of the Manuscripts

If, as we have seen, there are good reasons to think that the original text is preserved across the entire manuscript tradition (as opposed to being contained in a single manuscript), then there is still the question of how we identify the original text. How do we distinguish the original text from textual changes or corruptions? Can this even be done?

Ehrman would suggest it cannot. The reason for his skepticism is that the copies we posses are "error-ridden" and contain "thousands" of differences. In other words, the manuscripts are in such poor shape, so full of corruptions, that no methodology could extract the original text from them. 

Again, this is a vast overstatement. While there are certainly many, many textual differences (hundreds of thousands, in fact), the key point is that the vast majority of these scribal changes are minor and insignificant—e.g., spelling mistakes, use of synonyms, and word-order changes. In the end, these do not substantively change the meaning of the text.

Of course, there are more substantive textual changes (much fewer in number) that do affect the meaning of the text. But these changes would only be a problem if we could not identify them as changes. Or to put differently, these kinds of variants would only be a problem if we could assume that every one of them was as equally viable as every other.

Thankfully, textual scholars can determine, with a relative degree of certainty, which of these readings were original and which were not. There are still some gray areas, some instances where a choice between variants is unclear. But, generally speaking, we can have confidence that the words we read are the words of the original authors.  

Historically, Christian affirmations of biblical authority are often expressly restricted to the "autographs." And there are obvious reasons for this view. Biblical authority does not apply to whatever a later scribe might happen to write down—it applies to what the biblical authors actually wrote.

But does the lack of autographs mean such affirmations of biblical authority are meaningless? No, because the authority does not reside in a physical object, but in the original text. And the original text has been preserved in another way, namely through the multiplicity of manuscripts. 

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!

"Dad, are we going tonight?" asked the young girl in the row in front of me, her voice full of anticipation. "No, once we land we are going to find our hotel and eat dinner, then we'll go to Disney first thing tomorrow morning," the father replied. The little girl then turned to her brother, and the two talked with excitement and childlike wonder about finally getting to visit Disney World.

Abby

I couldn't help but smile hearing them talk to one another. And then I thought about Abby and wondered how much longer before she can take her Make-A-Wish trip. Abby is a 16-year-old girl in our church currently battling cancer. She went to the doctor a year and a half ago with flu-like symptoms, and tests revealed that she had leukemia and would need to begin chemotherapy treatments immediately.

My plans in Orlando didn't include Disney. I was traveling to attend The Gospel Coalition National Conference at Rosen Shingle Creek. Apart from my time in the airport, I didn't see an advertisement for any of the parks or usual tourist attractions that bring people like me from Ohio to Orlando. But as I listened to the speakers throughout the conference, the simple joy of the two kids in front of me on the plane and the hopeful anticipation of Abby's trip regularly came to mind and challenged me to ask: what is unique about the gospel that can bring deeper joy and hope into the lives of everyday people than "the greatest place on earth"?

Suffering and Consolation

Disney has partnered with Make-A-Wish almost from the beginning, and Disney-themed wishes continue to be the most popular requests by children to the Make-A-Wish Foundation. One result from this demand is Give Kids the World Resort, an entire 70-acre nonprofit resort where children with life-threatening illnesses and their families are treated to week-long, cost-free, fantasy vacations. 

Abby has heard firsthand about what's included in a Make-A-Wish trip from Holly, another young lady in our church who battled cancer and had her wish to Disney granted eight years ago. Holly and her family know the suffering that cancer and its treatment brings. And they know the need for hope, like a dream vacation, to give you something to look forward to in the midst of treatment.

Learning about the work of Make-A-Wish is simultaneously exciting and heart-breaking. If you are eligible for one these dream vacations, it is because you have lived a nightmare—it's a consolation for the pain and suffering. Some children never recover enough to be able to travel, and others await additional funds before their wish can be granted (if you are able, you can donate here). So what does the gospel offer that is better than consolation?

Resurrection and Restoration

In the final plenary session of TGC's National Conference, Tim Keller expounded on Luke 24 and the uniqueness of the resurrection of Jesus. He commented on verses Luke 24:40-43, where we read: 

and when he [Jesus] said this, he showed them his hands and feet. And while they still disbelieved for joy and were marveling, he said to them, "Have you anything to eat?" They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate before them.

Keller argued that these seemingly minor details about food make a major point. Jesus—body and spirit—was raised from the dead. He did not merely appear to his followers in a dream, nor did he simply "live on" in the memory of those who loved him. He is risen from the dead! The fact that Jesus could show the disciples his hands and feet, and that he could eat broiled fish, demonstrates that the hope of the resurrection includes renewed physical bodies in a renewed physical world. "The resurrection promises us more than consolation for the suffering and death we experience in this world; it promises us restoration," he said. "The resurrection means nothing is truly lost."

Then Keller applied this truth to single people and those in difficult marriages, but I immediately thought of those two kids on the plane and the young people awaiting their Make-A-Wish trips. I thought of every parent who weeps over a sick child and thinks, My son will never be able to play outside or, My daughter shouldn't be confined to this hospital and miss out on high school. There is real hope of a renewed creation because of the resurrected Jesus.

As Christians we don't believe that all good things must come to an end. We believe that all that is genuinely good and of God will never end. The good news is better than the bad news is bad.

Abby has cancer, but cancer doesn't have Abby—Jesus does. And so she regularly lifts her hands as shown in the picture above and worships him, just like the disciples in Luke 24:52. The promise of restoration in the resurrection of Jesus is unique, and its joy is deeper than any temporary consolation.

In his book Center Church, Tim Keller identifies the idea of "rights" as a key cultural entry point for helping our neighbors understand the gospel and its implications. That may sound like a strange claim, but I think he's correct.

Notice how "rights" are constantly in the news. The decision to file criminal charges against the Boston bomber meant he had to be granted Miranda rights. Gay marriage advocates claim "marriage equality" is a fundamental right. Believers claim religious liberty is a fundamental right. Everyone from gun owners to hair braiders to taxpayers to welfare activists is out there on TV, demanding rights.

Rights can also determine what doesn't make the news. Kermit Gosnell murdered babies after they were born, chopped them up, and put their little hands and feet on display in his office as trophies—like some barbaric warlord building a pyramid out of his enemies' skulls. But some media didn't want to cover this sensational story, for fear that public attention to these realities would threaten the right to abortion.

Rights matter so much because they determine how our society governs itself. Nothing wrong with that; naturally we all want to recognize and respect legitimate rights claims. But for just that reason, everyone who wants something demands it as a right! "Rights are trumps over the majority will," political theorist Ronald Dworkin put it. Once you establish that what you want is a right, you've already won the game, no matter how your victory may affect others or the community.

So how do we make sense of this seemingly chaotic war of rights, and how does it create a cultural entry point for the gospel? That's a complex question, but here are some basic principles to start the discussion.

1. The modern concept of rights was first articulated in Christian moral theology.

As Brian Tierney and others have shown, the modern concept of rights was not cooked up by nefarious Enlightenment deists as a scheme to destroy moral order. It was first articulated in the late Middle Ages by moral theologians and ethicists, as a necessary consequence of individual human responsibility. If people have duties, by definition they must have rights: If you have a duty not to murder me, then I have a right to life (i.e. a right not to be murdered by you). If I have a duty to worship God sincerely according to my conscience, then I have a right to religious freedom (i.e. a right not to be prevented from worshiping according to my conscience or forced to worship insincerely).

2. Nonetheless, this concept had important pre-Christian roots and is now widely understood and practiced by non-Christians.

Although our current understanding of rights did grow from Christian ethics, we should not try to claim it as exclusively Christian. For one thing, there are clear previews of it in the classical Greco-Roman moral philosophers; Aristotle and Cicero gave the medieval Christian ethicists important help in seeing the logic of rights. And once the idea "if people have duties, they also have rights" is articulated, you don't have to be a Christian to grasp that and live it out. Non-Christians around the world today are strongly dedicated to respecting rights claims.

3. Conflicts about rights are really conflicts about duties.

If rights are a consequence of duties, then the question "who has a right to do what?" is really just another way of asking "who has a duty to do what?" Suppose two people are stranded on a desert island after a shipwreck, and one has lots of food, but he withholds the food from the other person unless the other person agrees to do whatever he wants. He claims the right to do this on grounds that "I have a right to my property," i.e. "you have a duty not to steal my food." The other person can reply, "I have a right to life and liberty," i.e. "you have a duty not to force me into a choice between slavery and death."

4. Conflicts about duties are really conflicts about religion, but people usually can't see this.

In real life, our desert islanders would probably never realize they're making religious claims—just as the people on TV claiming they have rights to everything under the sun don't think they're making religious claims. But if they talked out their differences, questioning assumptions and uncovering presuppositions, they would eventually realize that the food hoarder is claiming "God commands you not to steal" while his companion is claiming "God commands you not to remain idle while your neighbor starves." Or if they come from a non-theistic culture, instead of "God" they may say "the gods" or whatever their conception of the transcendent is.

5. In most cases, people can resolve these differences peacefully only if they discover some cosmic common ground.

Once they realize what they're really arguing about, the food hoarder might simply say, "nuts to your hippie peacenik God; my God says the strong should rule the weak." If he does, there is little hope of resolving the conflict peacefully. But suppose instead his companion gets him to realize that even though God forbids stealing, God also forbids standing idle while your neighbor starves. This realization changes his understanding of the duty not to steal; he suddenly sees that it is not actually "stealing" for his companion to demand that he share what he has without attaching enslaving conditions to it.

6. People can discover cosmic common ground even across religious differences.

This happy ending to the story does not require our desert islanders to be of the same religion. Certainly if the food hoarder is a man who claims to be Christian or even just sees merit in Christianity, his starving companion will find it much easier to change his thinking. There are also important variations among non-Christian belief systems; it will make a big difference to the companion's prospects if the food hoarder is a Jew, Muslim, Hindu, Aristotelian, Confucian, Nietzschean, Randian, utilitarian, pragmatist, or adherent of no organized system of thought. Nonetheless, the important point is that our desert islanders need not reach a total agreement about life, the universe, and everything. They only need to find enough cosmic common ground to settle their conflict.

The Bible teaches us to expect that this resolution can happen. To take only one of many examples, Romans 2 teaches that by God's common grace, all people have God's moral law written on their hearts. This does not just make them morally responsible for their sin; it also changes their behavior. You can appeal to this law, within limits, to establish some cosmic common ground among all human beings.

For example, notice how the media were ultimately shamed into covering the Gosnell trial. That didn't happen because media gatekeepers suddenly converted to Christianity. It happened because pro-life activists appealed to common moral commitments (such as the ethical standards of the journalistic profession) and forced the gatekeepers to recognize their own failure to live up to them.

7. Rights claims grow out of control and destroy society if we don't debate them morally.

Notice that the happy ending on our desert island only comes after they have a frank debate in which they challenge one another's moral and even religious assumptions. There are no militant secularists on hand to shut down the dialogue, claiming that moral arguments are out of bounds in the public square. There are also no small-minded Christian conversionists to insist that until the food hoarder accepts Christ, there's nothing else worth talking about. When people fear or despise moral debate, "nuts to your God" and catastrophic wars over rights are the only possible outcome.

8. Discovering cosmic common ground is a central duty of neighbor-love and good citizenship.

It's important for Christians to reach out and find cosmic common ground with people of other beliefs. We must never compromise the gospel that divides us from the world. But we must also never betray the common humanity that binds us to our neighbors as fellow creatures with a shared nature, nor our membership in our nations and communities. If Christians took the lead in defusing the disastrous rights-wars by discovering cosmic common ground, that would show how the Spirit has filled us with love for our neighbors and shine in the cultural darkness as a beautiful witness to the gospel.

9. Discovering cosmic common ground forces people to see the elements of truth in others' worldviews.

Christians can explain why people are responsible moral agents who have duties (and therefore have rights). For as long as history records, secularists have been struggling to come up with some kind of argument to justify moral responsibility (and therefore rights) without reference to a transcendent cosmic order. It's a fool's errand. We won't be able to have that whole conversation explicitly every time rights come up; still, the more we can prompt people to think deeply about where rights come from, the more plausible the gospel will seem to them.

Normally, people who are deeply immersed in a culture with little gospel influence have great difficulty even understanding the gospel. They don't really grasp its meaning and implications because those things aren't made real within their cultural world. The gospel is gibberish to them.

But suppose Christians took the lead in defusing America's rights-wars. Our neighbors, whose social world is defined by those rights-wars, would see the gospel at work. Its power would have been made real in their world. Some of them would admire it, and some of them would resent it, but they would no longer be able to ignore it.

This article is written in love and admiration for pastors in North America. It is also written in brotherly concern because pastors in our culture are frequently subjected to gossip, slander, and malicious speech. You probably do not have to attend church meetings for very long before witnessing this for yourself. I remember speaking with a friend who attended a church meeting that quickly turned ugly. His comment to me, as a new Christian, was, "My honeymoon in the church was over." I doubt any of my readers will have trouble imagining what that meeting was like for my friend. While this is naturally a problem for any church in any age, certain tendencies in our culture make it an especially glaring one—and the Internet only makes things worse. I would like to think through the issue of foolish speech in a pastoral context by turning to the book of Proverbs because this book contains rich resources for both understanding and interpreting the roots of foolish speech and responding to it in a faithful way.

I would like to argue that, in the book of Proverbs, one cannot argue with a fool without making things worse. The wise person instead trusts the Lord to intervene by silencing and stopping foolish speech and vindicating those who trust him. I realize this conclusion may seem extreme. In order to recommend it, this article briefly sketches how the major characters in Proverbs speak and examines how the wise respond (or do not respond) to foolish speech. Then it turn to the NT, focusing on Paul's directions to how Timothy and Titus should speak in different situations, as well as Paul's presentation of Christ as the wisdom of God in 1 Cor 1. The essay closes by applying the wise speech of Proverbs to everyday-ministry settings.

1. Major Characters in Proverbs: The Simple, the Fool, and the Wise Man

The first major character in Proverbs is the simpleton, most often identified with the son or the youth in the book. The book of Proverbs portrays a pious Israelite father, guided by Solomon, teaching his son how to engage successfully in the complex adventure called "life." The son or youth is classified as "simple" (פֶּתִי) in the sense of being naïve about how life works and easily fooled (see Prov 1:4). While not morally wrong in itself, the youth's simplicity is dangerous because it is susceptible to influence from either wisdom or folly (9:4-6, 16). If not left behind, the youth will suffer the most terrifying consequences (1:22, 31). Although more could be said about this character, it turns out that the simple youth does not have much to say in Proverbs—he is rather called on to listen quietly to the wise instruction of the father.

For this reason, we turn to the two other major characters in the book: the righteous-wise and the wicked-fool.[1] In making this distinction, I am not ignoring how Proverbs uses a number of words are for different kinds of people. For instance, לֵץ ("scoffer") seems to denote a hardened cynic for whom there is the least hope of change.[2] Nevertheless, it is fair to make a broad distinction between two basic kinds of people in Proverbs: the righteous and the wicked, the wise and the foolish. The entire book of Proverbs is an appeal to the son to leave behind his simplicity and join the ranks of the righteous-wise by describing the life (and especially the speech) of these people and the blessed consequences that meet them under YHWH's hand.[3]

The righteous-wise can be defined, first, as those who "do right by" God and neighbor (1:3, 2:9, 12:17, 21:21, etc.). They discharge all relational obligations, doing what is right in the complex junctures to which every relationship is subject. This righteousness should not be understood only in the sense of fairness or balance, but more extremely as going "over the top" to do as much as possible to enhance the life of one's neighbor. "The righteous are willing to disadvantage themselves to advantage the community; the wicked are willing to disadvantage the community to advantage themselves."[4] Second, this category of people are "wise" in the sense of being skilled at engaging with the complex order God has set up in creation, and especially in relationships (1:2-7). This category of people is consistently portrayed as morally upright and insightful about how life and relationships work.

By contrast, the wicked-fool privileges self over neighbor. His wickedness consists in working for his own advantage to the detriment of others. His folly is similarly seen in the lack of skill with which he lives, despite the disastrous consequences to himself and others. Furthermore, this type of person consistently refuses to listen to instruction or rebuke or advice. The fool is someone who is incorrigibly certain he knows how life works, no matter how he is warned (1:7, 22; 12:15, 15:5). They are the ones who are wise in their own eyes (3:5-8). In contrast, the wise are receptive, open, and listening to wisdom (1:7-8, 2:1-4, 10:8, etc.), even loving rebuke (9:8).

How do these two groups of people talk? Proverbs spends no small amount of space portraying wise and foolish speech.

2. Foolish Speech in Proverbs

We can broadly summarize foolish speech in two ways.

2.1. Constant

First, there is a lot of it: the fool is always talking. Instead of pondering how he should answer, his mouth pours forth wicked things (Prov 15:28; cf. 15:2). He answers before he listens (18:13). He gets involved in arguments not his own (26:17). This kind of person is completely unrestrained: cross him and he explodes (12:16; 29:11). He cannot keep another's secret (11:13; 12:23). He abuses people he dislikes (11:12)[5] and criticizes them to others (10:18). Instead of keeping quiet, his rash words are sword-thrusts (12:18) that spark arguments with others (15:18).

The first-time reader of Proverbs might conclude at this point that people who are naturally outgoing and talkative are closer to folly than those with a quieter personality. Proverbs does contain some sober warnings about talking a lot: "in many words, sin is not lacking" (10:19); "the one guarding his lips guards his life" (13:3). But the biblical portrayal of the fool's unrestrained speech locates its source elsewhere: the fool talks so much because he is someone who has to be right. He will not stop arguing (20:3). If you get into an argument with the fool, instead of giving you the benefit of the doubt and working with you toward a resolution, "he only rages and laughs, and there is no quiet" (29:9). From the very first chapter of Proverbs, gaining wisdom means listening to those wiser than you; one cannot become wise without being receptive. An essential characteristic of the fool is that he will not do so, instead despising יסר, "fatherly instruction" (1:7, 5:23, 10:17, 12:1, 13:1; cf. also the understatement for effect in 15:12). Refusing to accept instruction in how life works, the fool is interested only in airing his own opinion (18:2).

And there is a sense in which the fool cannot accept such instruction. The fool's unwise speech is constitutional: he does not know how to say anything else. The mouths of the wicked know only what is perverse (10:32); when a fool decides to instruct someone, all he can dispense is more folly (16:22). Truths that would otherwise help others dangle like crippled legs in his mouth (26:7; cf. 1:22, 23; 13:19; 17:10; 24:7; 27:22).

Rod Dreher's younger sister, Ruthie Leming, was diagnosed with terminal cancer when she was only 40 years old. A beloved middle school teacher, mother to three young girls, and the happy wife of her high school sweetheart, she faced cancer with the conviction that whatever happened to her, God would bring good out of her illness. Her small town of St. Francisville, Louisiana, (population 1,700) rallied to her side during the struggle. But she died in her husband's arms, in a harrowing scene vividly recounted by Rod Dreher in his new book, The Little Way of Ruthie Leming: A Southern Girl, a Small Town, and the Secret of a Good Life.

The whole ordeal led Rod, a journalist who had worked in Washington, D.C., Philadelphia, New York, and Dallas, to re-evaluate his life and move home for the first time in 20 years. He joined me to discuss faith, tragedy, family, love, and the secret of a good life. You can download or stream the audio below.

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Rod Dreher on the Little Way of Ruthie Leming

I have ministered to adolescents for eleven years, eight of them as a youth minister. Based on my conversations with kids and observations in the culture, I consider these five theological tools essential for parents, pastors, and youth ministers hoping to minister effectively to today's teens.

1. Knowledge about the canonization of Scripture.

Perhaps it is a result of The DaVinci Code or maybe the effects of deconstructionism and revisionism in historical studies, but one of the primary apologetic questions I receive from students involves the formation of the canon of Scripture. In no subject area have I observed more misinformation. Students have told me that their high school English teacher taught that the Gospel of Mary Magdalene was not included in the Bible because Christianity is misogynistic. A kid told me that the Gospels were actually written in fourth century.

If a student does not trust the Bible as God's Word, ministries will have a hard time giving them any confidence in the truths of Christianity; the Bible serves as the authority and foundation for all Christian doctrine. Those ministering to youth must possess a strong understanding of the history and system by which the early church discerned certain books as authoritative and rejected other books as either uninspired or heretical.

Recommended Reading: F. F. Bruce, The Canon of Scripture

2. Developed theology of sexuality, particularly homosexuality.

Questions about premarital sex, gender, and sexuality are increasingly common in youth ministry. For many kids the make-or-break issue about Christianity is homosexuality. Many kids think the actions of anti-gay fanatics, such as Westboro Baptist Church, represent Christian theology regarding homosexuality, and, needless to say, they hold reservations about the faith. Meanwhile, other kids espouse the secular portrayal of homosexuality as a civil rights issue akin to racial segregation.

Youth ministers need a balanced, scriptural theology that neither amplifies homosexuality as worse than other forms of sexual sin nor permits it any more than we condone pornography or adultery. Equally important, they need a humble, gentle, and compassionate tone in dealing with the issue.

Recommended Reading: Wesley Hill, Washed And Waiting: Reflections on Christian Faithfulness and Homosexuality

3. Ability to teach the Bible in the greater context of redemptive history.

Earlier in my career, people said that postmodern kids had rejected metanarratives and only listened to the micro-narratives of personal storytelling. Some of my colleagues and I now agree that the fatalism of denying a defined metanarrative for life and the world seems to have bottomed out. Kids are more likely today to want to believe there is reason and design behind everything that happens in the world. Students greatly benefit from knowing salvation history.

As a way of taking students through all of redemptive history, I teach each one of my small groups a study on "Top 25 Events from the Bible" that travels from Genesis to Revelation. When teaching Scripture, I make a point to connect the content to the broader context of biblical narrative. It reinforces for kids the belief that a good, sovereign God rules the course of human history, as well as the events of their individual life, at a time when they desire it.

Recommended Reading: Vaughan Roberts, God's Big Picture

4. Theological, not only moral, understanding of sin.

Most students—Christian and secular alike—believe morality is individually relative. Therefore, explaining sin simply in moral terms will not resonate with most teenagers. You may say that all people judge, lust, envy, and lie, but your teenage audience likely can justify any of those sins at the personal level, believing they have ultimate authority over morality.

Consequently, those ministering to teens need a theological understanding of how sin originates from the human desire to live independently from God and to be the "god" of our own lives. Most students will accept that they do not depend on God for all matters of their life, if at all, or that they do not have a relationship with him. (In truth, these matters represent our deeper issue as sinners and the source of our immorality.) Students will accept the theological argument for human sinfulness far more readily than a moral explanation.

Recommended Reading: Tim Keller, Counterfeit Gods

5. Understand adoption as an element of salvation.

I charge myself as guilty for neglecting this element of salvation, and it cost me big time. The church often exclusively preaches salvation as an individual matter. In a sense, we camp out on regeneration and justification and stop there. I know I did. The persistent teaching of my colleague, Mark Howard, and the talks from Ray Ortlund and Mary Willson at the 2012 Rooted Conference (recordings from all three can be found here) opened my eyes to this blind spot.

Far more than previous generations, today's teenagers value community. If they do not see how groups or beliefs yield corporate fellowship, they are less likely to embrace it. Adoption represents the aspect of salvation whereby God adopts sinners as his sons and daughters. Our salvation does not simply save us individually but also makes us a part of a greater body of intimate connection. Having a fuller understanding of salvation in both individual and corporate terms will help a person ministering to teens offer the gospel in a way that appeals to their high view of fellowship and need for loving acceptance.

Recommended Reading: Trevor Burke, Adopted into God's Family (in the NSBT series edited by D. A. Carson)

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.

The Gospel Coalition's 2013 national conference is a five-day event running April 6 to 10, including a weekend world missions conference and three-day main conference focused on the mission of Jesus in the Gospel of Luke. Overall the event features 80 speakers from around the world aiming to stir your affections for Jesus Christ, equip you to live faithfully in this world, and spread the gospel to the ends of the earth.