Lessons on God from Biblical Genre: Narrative, Apocalyptic, More…

February 28, 2011February 18, 2011 / Peter Mead / 1 Comment

Springing off D A Carson’s recent lecture on this subject, let’s look at a couple more genres, and add a few more for good measure (he was limited to just over an hour).

Narrative – Carson suggested that narrative is a very nuanced genre, allowing for significant fine tuning for the complexities of life. As a preaching implication I would suggest that every narrative should be entered into fully, rather than touched on en route to a more generic sermon proposition. Allow the full colour and vivid richness of human identification to work its way with power into the thoughts and hearts of the listeners. Their lives are also full colour and vividly rich (often in complexity, challenge, doubts and struggles).

Apocalyptic – Carson suggested that apocalyptic literature reminds us that it is already known who wins in the end. To be fair his time was running out and he gave no indication that he was avoiding this part of the potential content. Many do, though. Thus it is either neglected, or any reference to it quickly becomes an excessive lesson in apocalyptic genre explanations that can leave the listener wondering if there is anything that can be understood from this genre. I suggest we need to think more carefully about how to honour God’s self-revelation through this genre.

Prophecy – Carson made no mention to this, but his time was gone. It is important to understand both the overlap and the distinctions between apocalyptic and prophetic writing. Prophecy speaks of God’s intimate involvement in the present (His concern, His responsiveness, His interest in the present) and His ultimate sovereignty in the future (His plans, His purposes, His right to rule in this world, in time and eternity). Again, as preachers, we should not fear or avoid prophecy. We should preach it. Surely it is one of the richest biblical genres in so many ways.

Poetry – Carson spoke of wisdom literature. I would want to ponder the particular features of poetry too, both within the wisdom corpus, and beyond it in places like Miriam’s song, or Hannah’s song, etc. Doesn’t the volume of poetry in the Bible tell us something of God’s love for artistic forms of communication, and his awareness of the needs of the human heart (not proposition-free, but more than “merely propositional”).

Final comment from Carson: “The problem is that we live in a culture that loves moral ambiguity for it’s own sake. At the end of Job, God wins, and don’t ever forget it. If we only had the narrative of David’s life we might have excuse for immorality. If you only had Psalm 1 you’d be encouraged or crushed, no subtlety, no recognition of the complex nature of each of us. But in God’s perfect wisdom He has given us apocalyptic and wisdom to tell us he doesn’t bend or grade on a curve. But he also gives narratives to show us how complex we are.”

As humans we need all the genre. As preachers we must give what is needed.

Lessons on God from Biblical Genre: History

February 24, 2011February 18, 2011 / Peter Mead / 6 Comments

Yesterday we pondered what the epistolary genre might teach us about God, and the implications for our preaching. Continuing with some springboarding off D A Carson’s recent Laing Lecture at LST, let’s think about biblical history.

Carson suggested the following: God discloses himself not only in words, but also in space-time history. We have access to that through witnesses, the standard mode of communicating historical veracity. Thus there is so much emphasis placed on the importance of witnesses.

In fact, Christianity is unique among religions in that if we were to take Jesus out of history, there would be no Christianity (not true of other religions). If Jesus didn’t actually rise from the dead, then witnesses are liars and we are still in our sins, our faith is futile. For the Christian, one of the tests of our faith is the truthfulness of the faith’s object. So no matter how strong and precious your faith may be, if that faith is not in something that is true, then you have nothing.

Biblically, a personal and precious faith without truth does not make a person spiritual, it makes them a joke. So Biblical faith is not the same as the contemporary view – that it is either a synonym for religion, or a personal subjective religious choice. This final definition makes it a faux pas to introduce the truth question (since we are talking about something both personal and subjective). But the truth question is absolutely paramount. While there are many elements of Christianity where we are to take God at His word, there are also critical elements, foundations, that require a test in history – notably the resurrection of Christ.

Implications for our preaching? I would suggest:

1. We must overtly overcome the “Bible story as fairy tale” perception. It is not enough to assume people understand the historicity of the biblical record, we need to be overt on this matter.

2. We should seek to overcome the notion that the Bible is a religious book, but good history books are published by other printing presses. The Bible is not only history, but it is phenomenally trustworthy historical source material.

3. We must train believers to know that their faith is resting on reality and fact, rather than the “leap in the dark” nonsense coming from both critics and ill-advised testimonies of people feeling public-presentation fright.

4. We should recognize how unaware Christians tend to be in respect to the differences between biblical Christianity and other religions. This leaves people very vulnerable when other religions are so proactively on the march.

Lessons on God from Biblical Genre: Epistle

February 23, 2011February 18, 2011 / Peter Mead / Leave a comment

In the past two days I have shared D A Carson’s five points on the diversity of biblical genre. Now to some specific genre and what their design might suggest about God.

Carson suggested the following: There are lessons to be learned about God from the occasional nature of the epistles. Paul never gave his summary of doctrine. He is always found to be, in some way, responding to a felt need of some kind.

Carson suggested that differences in Paul’s letters reflect differences in occasion, rather than maturation of Paul. (His support for this suggestion is the timing of the letters. Paul had about 16 years post-conversion before he wrote any of the epistles, then in the latter part of his “career” he wrote his letters. We would expect significant maturation if he began as a naïve new believer, but he didn’t.)

So God address particular churches with particular needs, carefully applying the message of the gospel to each. He gave the example of Paul’s different approaches to circumcision in respect to Timothy in Acts 16 and Titus in Galatians 2. The difference here was a different occasion/circumstance. In one the exclusive sufficiency of Jesus was at stake. In the other it was about avoiding an unnecessary obstacle to ministry. Occasionality is important and it is in the multiplicity of books that we find the full picture.

Implications for our preaching? I would suggest four for now:

1. We should seek to preach specific gospel presentation to specific audiences, rather than generic gospel presentations to undefined audiences.

2. We should seek to help listeners grasp the occasional/situational context for an epistolary passage, rather than treating the epistle as some other form of writing (the systematic treatise comes to mind).

3. Since there is no “gospel in a vacuum” presentations in the New Testament, we should try to avoid this all too common phenomena in our preaching. Be sure to concretely apply the gospel to the lives of those listening.

4. We should be very careful to preach a single passage with the full force of its own message, but always being sensitive to the fuller picture of the teaching of the other epistles and books.

Surprising Identification

February 18, 2011February 6, 2011 / Peter Mead / 1 Comment

When we read “narrative” – that is, story – we naturally find ourselves identifying with some characters, and perhaps distancing ourselves from others. We do the same thing when we watch films or TV shows too. There’s nothing wrong with that, whether it is a fictional story (like a film), or an inspired account of something that actually happened (like a biblical narrative).

As a preacher, part of your task is to tap into this natural response to narrative. You do this by telling the story well enough that people start to identify. You do this by overtly helping people to identify. But sometimes the natural point of identification is not the way to go (or maybe it is the way to go, with a twist somewhere along the line for greater affective impact!) Take, for example, the passion narratives. Who might you, or your listeners, naturally identify with? Caiaphas, Peter, Pilate, Judas?

Here’s an interesting quote from a certain German monk, a Dr Martin Luther:

“It is a Christian art when a person can regard the Lord Jesus as one whose business is to deal with our sins. . . . Although Christians will identify themselves with Judas, Caiaphas, and Pilate; sinful, condemned actors in the Gospel story – there is another who took the sins of humanity on himself when they were hung around his neck. . . . And today, Easter Sunday, when we see him, they are gone; there is only righteusness and life, the Risen Christ who comes to share his gifts.” (Sermons, 125.)

The amazing thing about the easter story, the heart of our proclamation, is that while we naturally identify with so many of the characters involved, we are invited to identify with the One at the centre of it all. It isn’t natural that we identify with the sinless Jesus, but it is the heart of the gospel to do so!

Compare and Contrast

February 17, 2011February 6, 2011 / Peter Mead / 1 Comment

I’ve had to do one or two exams over the years. Exams tend to imprint certain phrases in your subconscious – “You may begin,” or “stop writing, please.” And then there are the questions. Perhaps it was just a fad in the mid-nineties, but I seemed to always read “compare and contrast…” somewhere on the exam paper. Well, it’s back! Compare and contrast … Leviticus and Hebrews!

Offerings and sacrifices, altars and sanctuaries, priests and high priests. They have so much in common. But they were written at different times, and something so significant had occurred in the interim. So as we see what God expected of the Israelites in the wilderness, we can also rejoice in what we see of Christ in Hebrews. A better priestly order, a better covenant, a better sacrifice in a better sanctuary!

For many people Leviticus is not a highlight in the Bible (although the more you get into it the more fascinating and helpful it is). But Hebrews…what can I say? Perhaps it is no coincidence that Hebrews and highlight begin with the same letter! Ok, actually that is a complete coincidence. But if you engage your imagination as you read Leviticus and imagine living in those times, then compare and contrast with the joy, confidence, hope and privilege of living the life Hebrews offers. Compare and contrast…and enjoy!

As a preacher, part of your privilege is to engage not only your imagination, but also everybody else’s. Engage their imaginations and help them to see the wonder of all that we have in Christ. I can almost guarantee that there are some in your church for whom the Bible feels flat. Not only emotionally as they respond (or don’t) to it, but from cover to cover, they are unmoved by the massive move that happened when Christ came. As a preacher you may be preaching a single passage, but help people to compare and contrast so they know what a wonderful blessing this new covenant is!

Reading Letters

January 24, 2011January 21, 2011 / Peter Mead / 2 Comments

The epistles are generally a form of discourse. That is to say, they tend to be a direct form of communication (as opposed to narrative or poetry). This might imply that they are there to be studied so that I can figure out the main point. But when I read a contemporary letter I tend to look for more than just the bottom line. I tend to look for two things, and this applies when interpreting epistles too:

1. I tend to look for the message, or even the bottom line of a letter. What is this person specifically saying to me? I don’t want to read several hundred words as if they are all equally valuable, but disconnected nuggets of information. I do want to figure out what the main point or points are in the letter.

2. I tend to look for their heart coming through toward me. Are they loving, or polite, or cold, or complaining, or angry? Whether it is a complaint from somebody, or an encouragement from a friend, or a notification from a company, there is always more than pure information in a letter.

When we look at the biblical letters we do well to look for both things. What is the main point of each section? And what is the heart of the writer toward the recipients?

Technically this isn’t about finding the main idea (1) and finding the mood (2), as if these are separate and distinct items. The mood, the heart, combines with the information included to determine my sense of the main idea.

If we have been trained to do so, we tend to read narratives with imagination and sensitivity. We tend to read poems with a certain level of imagination and responsiveness. The danger is that we will read discourse as pure information, where we would be far better being alert to the affective tone of the communicator. Isn’t all human communication affective in one way or another?

Less of a Beating

January 14, 2011January 11, 2011 / Peter Mead / 3 Comments

It’s not true in every case, but for many people it is. Let’s say Person A has an issue with Person B. Perhaps Person A runs through how he might address Person B beforehand, or perhaps he is talking it through with his wife first. When Person B isn’t present, Person A tends to be much stronger in tone. But once they are face to face, Person A will typically be more winsome, more loving, more caring for the feelings of Person B. (There are exceptions, but let’s not get into psychologically profiling people who struggle interpersonally!)

There’s something in this that is analogous to preaching, I think. Let’s suppose you are preaching a biblical passage that contains an instruction from Jesus to his disciples. As preachers we have a tendency to turn any biblical text into an assault on the congregation. It could be encouraging, comforting, tender, sensitive, or gentle, but in the hands of an unthinking preacher, it will easily come across as harsh exhortation. Why does that happen?

I think there are various reasons for this phenomena including a misunderstanding of God, or of how people function, or are motivated, or what Christianity is, or often, just a lack of awareness of how we come across. But I wonder if there is also something in the difference between abstraction and in-person communication that I raised in the first paragraph?

We can easily take the words in a text and pull them out of their historical and interpersonal setting, turning them into a more harsh and abrasive instruction than was the case originally. Pulling an exhortative statement from its context and preaching it as bare instruction will usually feel more like the command that must be obeyed (drill instructor) than an instruction set in the context of interpersonal communication.

Did the disciples feel Jesus was barking out orders when he spoke to them of trusting in God, or of loving one another, or how they should pray, etc.? I suspect not. Somehow in person there would have been a more winsome force involved, the engagement of lives as the setting in which His instruction would have intrigued, motivated, drawn out, stirred, and moved them.

What to do? My suggestion is to be wary of excising the instruction from its narrative setting in order to preach it as instruction today. Better to help listeners imagine being there, being in the sandals of the disciples, feeling what they felt, stirring what stirred in them. Essentially it is about honouring the narrative force of the text rather than over-processing it into bite sized directions for today. Don’t treat every text as a mere collection of principles to be plucked out and fired at our listeners. Instead help the listeners to encounter the people in the text and to be stirred by that, very different, experience.

Christmas Wonder

December 20, 2010 / Peter Mead / Leave a comment

I imagine a lot of Christmas messages were preached yesterday, but I’ll post on it today anyway. I preached from Luke 2 in the morning and from Matthew 1 in the evening – what a delight to explain the significance of Christ’s coming to earth to a lot of visitors! Let’s pray for the influx of non-regulars to be more than a temporary boost to numbers this year.

Today I’m linking to my post over on the Cor Deo site – Heading Home for Christmas. Please click here to read the post . . .

(And if you comment you also have a chance of winning one of three copies of A Praying Life – see this link for details.)

Red or Blue?

December 6, 2010 / Peter Mead / 1 Comment

Today’s post is on the Cor Deo blog. In it I ask a significant question for Bible readers and preachers alike. When we look at the pages of Scripture, do we see red or blue? There’s nothing political about the post, it deals with a much more important subject than that!

Also, remember that those who comment on any post on the Cor Deo site this month will be in with a chance of winning a free book – A Praying Life by Paul Miller. All we ask is that you also share the link to the Book Giveaway page on facebook, twitter, by email or a web link – here’s the link to share:

http://www.cordeo.org.uk/book-giveaway-a-praying-life/

To go to the post, Red or Blue? – please click here.

Incidental Details, None But Plenty

December 2, 2010November 26, 2010 / Peter Mead / 2 Comments

The biblical narratives tend to be lean in their writing. What Luke could write in six, or ten, or twenty-six verses would take a contemporary writer three-hundred pages. Nevertheless, there are many details tied into the narratives.

There are interesting word choices – such as the word used for “have mercy on me” in Luke 18:9-14. There are significant passing remarks, like the fact that Mark tells us the grass was green at the feeding of the five thousand. There are key functions achieved by narratival details, like the angry grumbling of the crowd under the tree in Jericho when Jesus invited himself to Zac’s place. There are intriguing ways around saying the straight answer, like after the Good Samaritan, the questioner of Jesus can’t bring himself to say the word “Samaritan” in a positive sense. Or the elder brother in Luke 15 who won’t refer to the younger son as his brother. There are interesting repetitions, like “he believed” happening twice in twenty-four hours at the end of John 4. I could go on.

So what to do with such interesting “incidental” details?

One approach is to completely miss them and preach every story as if it is the same as several other stories. That could apply to a story recorded in several gospels, but sounding the same whatever passage you preach it from. Or it could apply to a particular story becoming a generic story-type that could be preached from numerous passages.

Another approach is to dismiss them and give some sort of sophisticated sounding explanation of how there is no reason for it to be here, but it shows the human-ness of the author. Certainly the author was a human, but often a dismissal of detail in Scripture is evidence of nothing more than the preacher’s lack of careful study and thought.

Another approach is to dissect them and preach a series of distinct messages based on separate textual triggers. In this approach the preacher goes off on a mini-logue about grumbling from the crowds at Zac’s tree, but fails to recognise the inherent thrust of that detail in that particular story. Often true truth will be preached from the wrong text.

Are there incidental details? Depends how you view and preach the text. I appreciate this quote from Flannery O’Connor:

“A story is a way to say something that can’t be said any other way, and it takes every word in the story to say what the meaning is.”