What Does Psalm 2 Really Tell Us?

What Does Psalm 2 Really Tell Us?

Dec 16, 2022 | Theology

In my previous post I argued that Christians tend to over spiritualize Psalm 2 by thinking it only describes a future spiritual reality when Christ returns in judgement. Evangelical Christians, of which I am one, tend to over spiritualize everything. Because of this tendency, I looked at Psalm 2 this way until only recently.

Since I became a Christian, I’ve believed that Christ is seated at the right hand of God the Father Almighty, ruling and reigning over the universe. That, however, tended to be an abstraction to me because of the horror show of so much history, not to mention current events. Psalm 2 as I saw it tells of a future time when the nations would become Christ’s inheritance. For now, it appeared that the world is the devil’s playground, and if most Christians are honest, they feel the devil is on offense and indeed winning. Shame on us for thinking such a thing.

We shouldn’t think this because it’s not biblical, whether we’re thinking about the past, present, or future. What I’m arguing is not my opinion, but the blatant text of Scripture. As I’ve come to this perspective on things I’ve come to realize the devil and his designs are getting crushed, slowly but surely, as he has been since Christ rose from the dead and was seated at the right hand of the Father Almighty. We see this reality prophesied by David in Psalm 2.

We’ll notice the Psalm doesn’t indicate David wrote it as do his other Psalms, but Peter in Acts 4 tells us he is the author. I encourage you to read this passage in Acts in light of the whole Psalm. Peter says what God, the “sovereign Lord” did with “his holy servant Jesus,” whom the Lord anointed (made king) “had decided beforehand should happen” according to God’s “power and will.” Do we really think God set all that up, made it all happen exactly like he wanted it to, only then when Christ rose and joined him on his throne to just be a spectator? To Let the devil win?

Of course not! You’ll yell at me. Look how Jesus is building his church, you’ll exclaim. His gospel is going forth to the ends of the earth. So, Jesus is indeed the conqueror. But, and here’s the rub: most Christians mean this regarding the salvation of individual souls, not the coming of God’s kingdom on earth as it is in heaven. This is the over spiritualizing tendency of most Christians I referred to, and how they view Christ’s sovereign reign and rule “far above all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every name that is invoked.” It’s all about the salvation of individual souls, while the world goes to hell in a handbasket.

Notice, however, the word “all” in Paul’s declaration of Christ’s sovereign rule, and he adds, “in the present age” as well in the one to come. That means now! Over presidents, kings, prime ministers, governors, mayors, city council members, legislators, unelected bureaucratic bodies, deep state security apparatus, militaries and their generals, corporations, schools, families, and anything else you can name. I’ve discovered when Paul uses the word “all” he generally means all. I know every Christian will say they agree with this, but that’s an abstraction to most of them, as it used to be with me. With all the evil done by “rulers” it sure seemed Christ wasn’t ruling, but that was me living by sight and not by faith. An example of this overspiritualizing is the church we go to.

The pastor and elders don’t see things quite like I do, and this often comes out in sermons. One Sunday, the pastor was talking about God reconciling sinners to himself, and he said something like, if we’re focused on “the culture wars” (a favorite bogeyman), and not salvation (as if they were mutually exclusive goals), “we’re just rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic.” So in this telling, culture (i.e., human beings living in community) is not only irrelevant to the Christian’s spiritual endeavor in God’s created reality, but no matter what we do, it’s a sinking ship! Unfortunately, that’s the default perspective for most Christians about in what appears to them as the “end times.”

We are indeed living in the “end times” since Christ rose from the dead and ascended to heaven to advance his kingdom on earth and build his church. Both are inevitable and cannot be defeated, as we see clearly in Psalm 2, the fulfillment of which we read about in our New Testament and see throughout history. Reading the Psalm it describes a present tense reality, as if the entire dynamic portrayed about the nations is happening at this very moment. The reign of the Lord’s anointed isn’t for some time in the future, but is now when “the nations rage,” when “the people’s plot in vain,” when “the rulers band together against the Lord and his anointed.”

The concept of anointing (mashiach in Hebrew, Messiah) was what the Lord did to appoint his chosen kings of Israel. The king was the anointed one, the Messiah of God. This man is chosen and consecrated, made sacred (holy in biblical terms, set apart) in a ceremony that includes the token applying of oil. He  was now God’s regent leading his people, his representative to work his will among God’s people on earth. Saul was Israel’s first Messiah, but he failed, and was replaced by King David, a man after God’s own heart. Jesus then came in David’s line to bring God’s kingdom to earth, the ultimate fulfillment of which will come at the end of time when Christ returns and all of creation is reconciled to him in ultimate victory over sin, corruption, and death.

The question we’re confronted with is what is happening now between Christ’s ascension to the right hand of the Father, and his second coming and the consummation of all things. In my next post I’m going to look at Psalm 2 in light of Christ building his church.

Psalm 2 Is Happening Now!

Psalm 2 Is Happening Now!

Dec 13, 2022 | Eschatology, Theology

I’ve made it to Psalms in my reading, and I’m amazed how much my perspective on Psalm 2 has changed. I always assumed it was talking about the future when Christ returned, and only then would God the Father make the nations Jesus’ inheritance, and the ends of the earth his possession, only then would he break them with a rod of iron and dash them to pieces like pottery (v. 8, 9). Because, you know, look around the world, or in history, and it doesn’t exactly look like Jesus is reigning, does it? Or is he?

It’s fascinating talking to Christians about current affairs and the state of the world. Inevitably all lament to one degree or another how horrible things are. Many are convinced Jesus is coming back soon. I heard Eric Metaxas recently say because of technology never before available, the mark of the Beast could actually happen now; he believes it will. Almost everyone believes we live in “the end times.” Because, that’s how it’s supposed to work, right? Things go straight to hell, they get really horrible, suffering and misery unmatched since the world began, and then bamo! Jesus returns like Batman to save the day. Or something like that.

I enjoy countering such pessimism with a bit of a different perspective on things. I might ask; I wonder what Christians in Europe were thinking in the late 1340s. It was kind of a tough time given they had to endure something called the Black Death, the bubonic plague. To get a sense of the damage:

Best estimates now are that at least 25 million people died in Europe from 1347 to 1352. This was almost 40% of the population (some estimates indicate 60%). Half of Paris’s population of 100,000 people died. In Italy, Florence’s population was reduced from 120,000 inhabitants in 1338 to 50,000 in 1351. The plague was a disaster practically unequalled in the annals of recorded history and it took 150 years for Europe’s population to recover.

Rush Limbaugh used to say most people think history started when they were born, and historical amnesia in our culture is at pandemic levels. What do you think those living in Europe at the time of the plague might have thought about the second coming? The phrase, “Bring out your dead,” would have been a common refrain in the streets. The level of suffering is staggering and impossible to conceive. Life was hard enough in the Middle Ages without the Black Death.

Dickens started A Tale of Two Cities with, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” and everyone seems to agree ours is most definitely “the worst of times.” I’m kinda thinking Europeans living in 1350 might disagree. By any measure we live in the best of times, and it isn’t even debatable. I could multiply historical examples like this, if not to this degree of suffering, to make the same point. Why all the gloom and doom at this point in history? Historical amnesia is one reason, certainly, but faulty theology is another. Which brings me to Psalm 2.

When I’m talking to my Negative Nellie Christian friends, I bring up Psalm 2 and ask them if they’ve ever considered it in light of current events. Then I’ll say something like, you do know at this very moment Jesus is sitting at the right hand of the Father “far above all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every name that is invoked, not only in the present age but also in the one to come,” right? You do know right now Jesus is reigning, ruling, at this very moment, “until he has put all his enemies under his feet,” right? These are not theoretical theological points or Scriptural speculation; this is orthodox Christian doctrine since Pentecost. Yet it seems most Christians miss this part as their assessing the horribleness in which we live. They ought not do that.

There are many other Old Testament passages that make the point, but Psalm 2 is especially powerful. Our tendency, and not too long ago I was guilty of the same thing, is to see events happening in some way apart from God’s providence. Oh sure, I knew and believed God is the sovereign Lord over all things, and in fact in control of all things, but my emotional reaction to things sure didn’t reflect that. And what I believed about the “end times” effectively compelled me to pessimism. My eschatology, my understanding of the “end times” was basically what I described above, things get worse and worse, and eventually so bad Jesus has to come back to save the day. Which is why I so horribly misinterpreted Psalm 2.

Properly understanding Psalm 2 is too important to grapple with in a paragraph or two, so I’ll focus on the Psalm itself in the next post, but I will make a salient point about the Black Death.

If we look at the Great Commission Jesus gave his disciples, he affirms his authority over all things “in heaven and on earth,” which is the fulfillment of what we read about in Psalm 2. He then tells them, “Therefore go and make disciples of all nations . . .” I always assumed “nations” really meant individuals, and while it clearly does in light of the rest of the New Testament, the word Jesus uses doesn’t mean individuals. The Greek word Matthew uses (remember Jesus and his disciples spoke Aramaic, a form of Hebrew) for nations is ἔθνος-ethnos; properly, people joined by practicing similar customs or common culture; nation(s). Now read Psalm 2 in light of the Great Commission, and the bigger picture emerges.

Could Christians in Europe in the 1350s imagine the gospel going to the literal ends of the earth as it has in our day? A hundred years ago the African continent was heathen, and today it is primarily Christian. Whatever the numbers, by all accounts Christianity is exploding in China, as it is in South America. Even where Christianity is a minority religion or persecuted it grows and prospers. The nations are being discipled, God’s kingdom is advancing, and Christ’s church is growing, against which the gates of hell shall not prevail. There is much disagreement among Christians as to what exactly this discipling of the nations will look like in practice, but it is happening. Psalm 2 tells us why.

 

On Never Tiring of the Moon

On Never Tiring of the Moon

Dec 10, 2022 | Explanatory Power

During the most recent full moon, and the nights around it, as I gazed upon its never-ending beauty a thought kept coming to mind: why do we never tire of looking at the moon? Why is it we marvel at its beauty, find it mysterious, and awe inspiring, in the literal meaning of that word: A feeling of respect or reverence mixed with dread and wonder, often inspired by something majestic or powerful. Dread not in this case, but it never ceases to inspire awe. And this has been true for all recorded history. Again, I ask, why?

The obvious answer is God, but what is it about God and his creation, all of it, that fills the human soul with seemingly endless delight? It has something to do with “the beautiful,” as the ancient Greeks put it. I contend, if all we are is lucky dirt, then what the ancients proclaimed can’t exist, “the true, the good, and the beautiful.” Since these undoubtably do exist, we are not lucky dirt, but made in God’s image, and these realities point to Him. In some sense when we find truth, we find Him, when we encounter the good, we find Him, and when we gaze upon ineffable beauty, we gaze upon Him.

Paul makes this incredible claim in Romans 1:20, that in creation we can see “God’s invisible qualities.” In other words, in some real sense God who is invisible is made visible in his creation. We can see him in what he has made. What are these invisible qualities? “His eternal power and divine nature.” We cannot help but see the God-ness of God in what he has created. If you think about it, it only makes sense.

Some years ago, I went to the National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC. It was incredible seeing before my eyes all the paintings I’d only seen in books. Coming upon a painting by Rembrandt I was stunned. There it was, hanging on the wall, not behind glass, but right in front of me in all its glory. I was looking at something from over 350 years ago that in some way was making visible the man who painted it. It was incredible to see in person.

A work of art reveals the unique personality of the person, especially in those who partake of greatness. There is no mistaking a Rembrandt from Da Vinci, Vermeer or Cézanne, van Gogh or Picasso, and so on. Music is the same way as we all know. How much more the living Creator God! The same God who made these men, made all other creators who reveal not only themselves in their work, but the one who created them.

I’ve been re-reading The Screwtape Letters, and Lewis has typically brilliant insight into how God captures us and reveals himself in creation. Speaking of human beings, Wormwood writes to his demonic charge:

He has balanced the love of change in them by a love of permanence. He has contrived to gratify both tastes together in the very world He has made, by that union of change and permanence which we call Rhythm. He gives them the seasons, each season different yet every year the same, so that spring is always felt as a novelty yet always as the recurrence of an immemorial theme. . . . If we neglect our duty, men will be not only be contented but be transported by the mixed novelty and familiarity of snowdrops this January, sunrise this morning . . .

Or a full moon!

As I gazed upon the brilliance and brightness of the moon, I knew it was the very same moon, in fact the very same side of that very same moon, that showed up last month, and the month before, and every month for my entire life. Yet the sameness never diminishes the novelty, and I can’t wait to gaze upon it again the next month. Only the living, Almighty, Creator God could pull off something like that. And one day in eternity we will gaze upon eternal ultimate beauty face to face. Pointing exactly to this, speaking more then he knew, Job out of his suffering uttered these prophetically astonishing words:

25 I know that my redeemer lives,
and that in the end he will stand on the earth,
26 And after my skin has been destroyed,
yet in my flesh I will see God;
27 I myself will see him
with my own eyes—I, and not another.
How my heart yearns within me!

The ineffable beauty we behold in the moon, in all creation, and our reaction to it, always leaves us wanting more. Our hearts, like job, yearn within us, yet we feel like we’re grasping water, and we can only catch a little bit. That is because it is only God himself in Christ, as Pascal so eloquently states, who can fill the infinite abyss in our souls.

Secularism and the Myth of Neutrality: There is No Such Thing as an Unbeliever

Secularism and the Myth of Neutrality: There is No Such Thing as an Unbeliever

Dec 5, 2022 | Philosophy

I’m currently working on my upcoming new international best-selling book, and the chapter I’m currently obsessing over is on secularism. In my research and study, the title of an article caught my attention: “Is That All There Is? Secularism and its discontents.” Published in the print edition of The New Yorker Magazine in 2011, it wasn’t quite what I expected because it’s written by a committed secularist admitting secularism has its challenges, but by golly, he ain’t giving up secularism! The reason I’m addressing secularism in the book is because it’s a lie, and the most pernicious enemy of Christianity and liberty in our time. There are numerous reasons for this on a societal and personal level, but I will only briefly address the personal level here.

The secular believe they are not “religious” therefore neutral regarding ultimate issues, and because they are not “religious” think they don’t need faith. Their definition of faith, however, is fallacious and biased, something along the lines of what Samuel Langhorne Clemens, aka Mark Twain, declared, “Faith is believing what you know ain’t so.” Faith is basically wishful thinking, and not “scientific,” as if science can answer questions of meaning. That would be known as a category error; science and philosophy do two different things. The bias is specifically anti-supernatural because secularists are naturalists or materialists, i.e., the material is all there is. Even if they are not philosophically materialists, they are practical atheists. Believing they’re “scientific,” we religious appear to believe in myths and fairy tales. They are every bit as “religious” as the religious.

The fact is, there is no such thing as an un-believer. One of my pet peeves is referring to certain people as believers and others as unbelievers; even Christians do this, all the time. The word believer is biblical, but it’s a word we need to retire in our secular age. Using it allows the “unbeliever,” the secularist, to live in the illusion they don’t require faith just like every “believer.” All human beings by the nature of their finite created existence are believers and live by faith; the issue is what or who they believe in. In other words, they are just as religious as any Christian, and require faith like any Christian. Therefore, I encourage all Christians to refer to people either as Christians or non-Christians, not believers and unbelievers. I know getting people to do this is a Sisyphean task, but alas, rolling boulders fruitlessly up hills is something I can’t help but doing.

James Wood, the author of the piece, most definitely a non-Christian, gives us a good example how a secular person does this. He refers to “Both atheists and believers . . .” Ergo, atheists don’t have to believe anything. It’s almost comical how ridiculous the contrast is. Atheists believe without the slightest evidence all material reality basically created itself, something came from nothing. Talk about a leap of faith! This is why it’s so important in our secular age to stop using believer and unbeliever, not only because it’s a distortion and inaccurate, but because it allows atheists like Wood, and his readers, to think they are somehow beyond any need for faith. It’s why so many atheists (and there are not many) can be so arrogant toward the weak who they see needing the crutch of faith.

You’ll see throughout the piece something secularists are especially good at, begging the question. Most people use this phrase today to mean raise the question, but it is a logical fallacy meaning to assume the premise as the conclusion, a form of circular reasoning. A great example of this is early in the piece when he lays his cards on the table claiming, “God is dead, and cannot be reimposed on existence.” The bald assertion is never defended, just asserted as if it didn’t need to be defended. That is an article of faith. He obviously doesn’t understand his fundamental faith commitments, or that they are faith commitments. After all, he’s an un-believer. We should not let him think that.

He does more question begging later in the piece. Speaking of tormented metaphysical questions that remain, he asserts they “cannot be answered by secularism any more effectively than by religion.” Really? The stunning ignorance of such an assertion is breathtaking and utterly predictable, just assumed to be true. The secularists who read The New Yorker wouldn’t even blink at it because they’ve likely never met someone whose life has been utterly transformed by their relationship with the risen Lord Jesus, like, for example, Claire Dooley. I listened to an interview of this young women this week telling her story of being rescued from atheism on the Side B Stories podcast.

Remember stories like this are happening all over the world in every nation every day as Jesus builds his church, and the reason is because Christianity is true. It isn’t true because it works, it works because it’s true. Lies and wishful thinking don’t transform lives or civilizations, truth does, and the one who declared, he is “the way and the truth and the life.”

Book Review: Solas Centre for Public Christianity Uninvented Book Review by Peter S. Williams

Book Review: Solas Centre for Public Christianity Uninvented Book Review by Peter S. Williams

Dec 1, 2022 | Uninvented

I was recently on the Solas Centre’ podcast with Andy Bannister (which should air after the first of the year), and they were also kind enough to get scholar Peter S. Williams to do a book review. I figured I had a good chance of getting a positive review given he was willing to endorse the book, but still, one never knows. The most gratifying thing he says is that the book is both “highly readable” and “very readable,” which is something I always strive for, better accomplished at some times than others. Since my first book I’ve learned a very lot about writing and trust I’m a bit better for all the practice.