When the New Testament Disagrees

Christian history, Church Leadership, The Bible, Theology, Women in Ministry

In Acts 15 we find an account of the very first (and most important) church council in Christian history, often dubbed the Jerusalem Council (A.D. 48-49). Leaders like Peter, Paul, Barnabas, Silas, James, and many others gathered to discuss one of the most pressing issues facing the early church—What do we do about Gentiles who wish to follow Israel’s Messiah?

Some believers argued that Gentiles must first become Jews. They must become circumcised, follow the Torah, and embrace Jewish dietary law. Only then can they belong to the covenant community.

Others disagreed. Peter gave testimony to his experience in Caesarea Maritima where he saw the Holy Spirit fall upon a Roman centurion, Cornelius, and his entire household and baptized them on the spot as Gentiles. Paul and Barnabas also gave accounts of God’s work among Gentiles during their missionary journeys.

After much discussion and debate, the gathered leaders came to a unanimous agreement. Gentiles are to be welcomed into the Jewish body of Messiah just as they are, provided they abstain from four things: (1) Food associated with idolatry (my emphasis), (2) Sexual immorality (porneia) (3) What has been strangled, and (4) Blood (Acts 15:20).

Several years later (around A.D. 53–55), Paul wrote his first letter to the gathered church in Corinth. On the issue of meat sacrificed to idols, Paul never mentions the decision of the Council. Instead, he gives a much more nuanced set of instructions. While firmly prohibiting idolatry and pagan worship, Paul’s instructions regarding consuming meat sacrificed to idols can be summarized as follows:

(1) Meat itself is morally neutral.

(2) Because idols are not real gods, Christians are free to eat meat regardless of its prior association with pagan sacrifices.

(3) However, Christians must never participate in pagan worship, and…

(4) they should willingly refrain from eating when doing so would harm another believer’s conscience or communicate participation in idolatry (1 Cor. 8-10).

In other words, Paul preserves the council’s underlying concern about idolatry while applying it differently in the context of Corinth. The result is a noticeable tension between the straightforward prohibition of Acts 15 and the more situational guidance found in 1 Corinthians 8–10.

A few decades later, a prophet named John receives a series of visions while exiled on the island of Patmos. Among those visions are seven messages addressed to churches in Asia Minor (Revelation 2–3), each presented as a message from the risen Jesus Christ.

In these letters, the practice of consuming meat sacrificed to idols is categorically forbidden and regarded as serious sin. The churches in Pergamum and Thyatira are sharply rebuked because some among them have embraced teachings that encourage believers to eat food sacrificed to idols and participate in practices associated with pagan worship. For John, such behavior represents compromise with the surrounding culture and is incompatible with faithful allegiance to Christ.

Notice the differing perspectives here. The Jerusalem Council prohibits food associated with idols. Decades later, John appears to reaffirm that prohibition without qualification. Paul, however, makes a distinction between participation in idol worship and the mere consumption of meat that had previously been offered in sacrifice, which he permits under certain circumstances.

So the New Testament does not speak with a single voice on this issue. Rather, we find different authors addressing the same question in different ways, shaped by the pastoral challenges and circumstances facing their communities.

This suggests that we should be cautious about treating Acts and the New Testament epistles as a comprehensive law code containing universally applicable rulings for every situation. Rather, they are inspired accounts of apostles, pastors, and congregations using wisdom to discern what faithfulness to Jesus looked like in their specific contexts.

To be sure, beneath these writings lies a shared theological foundation centered on allegiance to Christ and his vision. Yet the application of those convictions is often contextual rather than uniform.

I’m using this example as a case study with hopes of helping us better understand what the Bible is for and how it works. If early Christian leaders and churches differed on how they sought to embody faithfulness to Christ, and these differences are inscribed within the Bible itself, then what does that reveal to us about the Bible’s purpose? Rather than constantly detaching independent verses and citing them like an attorney holding a law journal, perhaps the Bible is instead inviting us to seek and apply Spirit-inspired and Jesus-centered wisdom for our own particular contexts?

For example, I’m convinced that a similar dynamic is happening within the New Testament as it pertains to the topic of women teaching in churches.¹ Of course, this is a hot-button issue at the moment due to the recent meetings in Orlando within the Southern Baptist Convention. I won’t comment on those matters, except to say, while I continue to disagree with my complementarian brothers and sisters within the SBC, I refuse to publicly assume their motives, and I respect their right to follow their own conscience and wrestle with this issue within their own local communities.

Nevertheless, I cannot help but suggest that faithfulness to Jesus on this issue is often kaleidoscopic rather than uniform. For the writer of 1 Timothy (who I contend was not actually Paul) and the letter’s recipient, it was determined, “I do not permit a woman to teach or to have authority over a man; she is to keep silent” (1 Tim. 2:12). Okay, “Paul.” I accept that there were concerns within your own time and place that led you to this conclusion.²

And yet, we do have numerous recorded examples within the New Testament of women involved in apostolic ministry, prophetic ministry, theological instruction, missionary work, house-church leadership, diaconal ministry, and gospel partnership alongside male leaders.³

Perhaps this is one of the Bible’s greatest gifts. Rather than offering a comprehensive catalog of answers for every conceivable circumstance, it invites us into the same Spirit-led process of discernment practiced by the earliest followers of Jesus. The New Testament records their attempts to work out what allegiance to Jesus looked like in a variety of circumstances. And sometimes they arrived at different applications while remaining rooted in the same gospel.

The goal of biblical interpretation is not merely to locate a rule and apply it mechanically. It is to immerse ourselves in the story of Jesus, attend carefully to the witness of Scripture and interpretive tradition, and remain open to the dynamic leading of the Holy Spirit, seeking to discern together what faithfulness looks like here and now. That task is more demanding than proof-texting.

The question is not merely, “Which verse settles the matter?” but rather, “How can we faithfully embody the way of Jesus here and now?” The early church had to wrestle with that question in its own time. We still do today.

For a thorough explanation of my own position, read here. ↩︎
For those who contend that the instruction regarding women in 1 Timothy 2 is universally binding because of the author’s point about Eve being deceived and transgressing and not Adam (vv. 13-14), first I point back to the issue of eating meat sacrificed to the idols. While Paul permits the practice (under certain circumstances), the categorical prohibition against eating such meat in Revelation was purportedly given by Christ himself in a vision(!) Furthermore, was Adam not also deceived and guilty of transgression? If not, how so? We should at least acknowledge the difficulty Christian interpreters have had with this section of 1 Timothy 2 throughout history. ↩︎
Acts 21:8–9; 1 Corinthians 11:5; Acts 18:24–26; Romans 16:1–2; Romans 16:7; Romans 16:3–5; Acts 18; Colossians 4:15; Acts 16:14–15, 40) ↩︎

The Day Aquinas Stopped Writing

Christian history, Theology

Near the top of the list of the most influential Christian theologians in history is Thomas Aquinas. His writings form the cornerstone of Roman Catholic theology and have exerted a lasting impact not only on Christian thought but also on the fields of ethics, metaphysics, and natural law.

In his Summa Theologica—which he never completed—Aquinas created one of the most far-reaching theological works in history. He harmonized divine revelation and human reason through Scripture, tradition, and Aristotelian thought, articulating a comprehensive vision of Christian doctrine.

Simply put, the magnitude of Aquinas’ theological legacy is often regarded as second only to Augustine of Hippo in the history of Western Christianity.

But in the final year of his life, around the age of 48, Aquinas was rocked by an extraordinary, life-altering experience. On December 6, 1273, Thomas attended Mass, as he did every day. But during the eucharistic service he was seized by an unexpected mystical encounter so powerful that he could neither describe it nor resume his scholarly pursuits. We do not know the precise content of Aquinas’s experience. Sources describe it as a vision or revelation during Mass, but Aquinas himself never detailed it.

But from that day forward, he stopped teaching.

He stopped writing.

His great tome, Summa Theologica, would go unfinished.

People close to Thomas immediately noticed a profound change. They were concerned about him. His dear friend and confidante, Reginald of Piperno, asked him, “Father, how can you want to stop such a great work?” Thomas merely replied that he could no longer continue writing. Reginald assumed that perhaps he was physically or mentally exhausted. He probed further. Again, Thomas replied, “Reginald, I can write no more.” But then he explained, “All that I have hitherto written seems to me nothing but straw.”

Thomas withdrew into silence. Later, during a visit to his sister, the difference in him was unmistakable. Turning to Reginald, she anxiously asked what had shaken her beloved brother so deeply.

This time Thomas elaborated further, “All that I have written seems to me nothing but straw . . . compared to what I have seen and what has been revealed to me.”

A short while later, on March 7, 1274, Thomas Aquinas would pass away.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about this anecdote from Aquinas’ life. No matter how profound our scholarship, the divine cannot be fully captured in words. Yes, we cannot help but theologize. As incomprehensible as God is, we must find ways to conceptualize thoughts and articulate ideas if we are to enter into this relationship. Therefore, theology is not only necessary; it is unavoidable for those who wish to engage with God. So we do our best.

But let us not kid ourselves. Much of what we claim to know, we know only in part. We construct our systems, our doctrines, our statements of faith—and we must. Yet no matter how true those statements may be (and there is no record of Aquinas repudiating his earlier work), they remain words spoken about the Source of all that is, seen and unseen. The ever-expanding universe itself bears witness to this truth: God is immeasurably vast, and our belief statements are, by comparison, astonishingly puny.

Over the last few centuries, discoveries in cosmology, geology, biology, and other disciplines have burst old theological wineskins. And ready or not, there will likely be more Copernican-like revolutions in the centuries to come.

But among the theologically-minded, the wise and humble are open and flexible. They stand upon our creedal foundations while speaking slowly and thoughtfully about the divine mysteries.

Those who speak of sacred truths with flippancy, as if all were self-evident and trivial, profane what is most holy. Glib, unreflective certitude desecrates the sacred.

Some of the most spiritually hollow words appear in formulaic discipleship curricula, shallow worship songs, or the pages of popular Christian bestsellers. If Thomas Aquinas looked back upon his prior work as nothing but straw, I’m not sure what language could adequately describe these (actually I am, but I’d rather keep this piece PG-rated).

When we truly encounter the God who is ultimate transcendence, like Thomas Aquinas we cannot help but lay our ink pens down (or put our phones away), and to be still and behold. And we’ll know we are on the right track when our thinking and our conversation are infused with plenty of wonder, mystery, and awe—an awakening that comes from what we most need: profound encounters with Christ that leave us mystified.

Severance and the Gospel

Christian history, Culture, Kingdom of God

Without a doubt, the hottest streaming series this Spring is Apple TV’s psychological thriller Severance, created by Dan Erickson and directed by Ben Stiller. Severance currently boasts a 96% rating on Rotten Tomatoes, and since its premiere on January 17, Season 2 alone has garnered a viewership of over 3 billion streaming minutes. In other words, Severance is a bonafide, all-time hit.

Hamony Cobel (Patricia Arquette) is the bizarre Supervisor of the severed floor in Season 1.

The story revolves around protagonist Mark Scout (played by Adam Scott) who is employed by a local branch of a mysterious global corporation, Lumon Industries. One particular floor of Lumon’s massive office complex is devoted to work so secretive that incoming employees are required to undergo a controversial surgical procedure. The surgery implants a chip into the brain that separates employees’ “work memories” from the rest of their memories.

The effect is that each severed employee (or “innie”) has a life that is carefully curated and dominated by Lumon, with no cognitive connection to one’s life in the outside world. Likewise, the same person outside of the office (or the “outie”) has no recollection of anything that happens at work.

For its severed workers, Lumon has created an entire world of peculiar nomenclature, imagery, customs, routines, and company history to tame its employees’ curiosity and satisfy their longing for meaning. By doing so, Lumon is able to manipulate and control their entire lives.

But as the story progresses, Mark and some of his co-workers intuitively suspect that something is amiss with Lumon and the existence that has been crafted for them. They become increasingly disenchanted with their experience and begin to imagine what life is like beyond their home on the windowless severed floor.

Creepy statue of Lumon CEO, Jame Eagan (Michael Siberry)

Something similar is happening right now inside the world of American Christianity. Many of us have been handed a severed gospel, largely stripped of what makes the Jesus story so rich, beautiful, and intoxicating.

The gospel is the story of God setting right a world gone wrong. It’s a story that begins with God choosing Abraham and forming his descendants into a great nation through whom God will bless the entire earth. The story continues with the promise that God will establish as king one of David’s descendants who will reign eternally and whose kingdom will encompass the entire earth.

Finally, the story culminates with Jesus of Nazareth, Israel’s messiah, winning an atoning victory on the cross, and being raised and ascended to the Father’s right hand, where he is now enthroned as king of the nations.

Therefore, in response to this good news, the invitation of the gospel is to come under the reign of King Jesus and join the community of believers who (by God’s grace) are together learning to embrace and embody his vision for life as God intends it to be lived. A life that continues on in the age to come.

It is the life Jesus taught and modeled for us. A life characterized by the Sermon on the Mount. A life marked by peace-making, enemy love, patience, and self-denial. And it is through these kinds of cross-shaped communities that God is mending, healing, and saving a lost and broken world.

Yet for many of us, the gospel we’ve inherited sounds quite different. Rather than a story that includes what God is up to in the world right now through the reign of King Jesus, the gospel has been presented to us as a formula for individual salvation regarding how to get to heaven when we die. It’s mechanical. Formulaic. Transactional.

It’s not that this gospel is wrong, per se. It’s just incomplete. It’s a severed gospel. This severance didn’t happen overnight but gradually morphed over several centuries.

It is difficult to locate a definitive starting point, but certainly the Protestant Reformers were instrumental in its development and circulation. John Calvin, in particular, was a trained lawyer who later became a prominent theologian. Calvin’s theological work on soteriology was significantly shaped by his legal background and would become hugely influential in affecting how future generations in the West would understand the gospel.

Consequently, people began to view salvation primarily through a legal framework—that guilty sinners can be “acquitted” because of Jesus’ atoning death on the cross and thereby receive forgiveness and salvation.

Indeed, this is true so far as it goes. And certainly the apostle Paul, in his writings, frequently employs legal metaphors. But it isn’t nearly enough to delineate the full scope and nature of salvation and the gospel as described in the story the Bible tells.

The severance process continued throughout the era of colonialism and the transatlantic slave trade. As Western empires sought to conquer and control foreign lands and peoples, the Christian enterprise was often a complicit partner.

As territories were being occupied and exploited, many Christian missionaries and pastors focused their work exclusively on “saving souls.” Colonizers and slaveowners sought to depict conquered and enslaved peoples as something less than human in order to excuse themselves from the ethical demands of Christ’s teaching, allowing them to perpetuate their oppression and exploitation.

Eventually, the American Protestant world would rupture with the Modernist-Fundamentalist controversy in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. A whole host of complicated issues was involved, but at the center of it was a fierce debate over the nature of the gospel.

During the Jim Crow era, many pastors and churches of all kinds were calling attention to the issues of poverty, inequality, and exploitation of workers. Drawing from the Bible, and in particular the teachings of Christ, they contended for a more just and equitable society.

However, some of these Christian leaders and institutions were also departing from orthodox Christian doctrines (such as the virgin birth and the bodily resurrection of Christ). It is also true that in some cases, the emphasis on Christ and the role of Christian worship were becoming deemphasized and displaced altogether.

This movement ignited a strong response from what would become the Fundamentalist movement, which aimed to counteract what was identified as a wholesale departure from normative, orthodox Christianity.

Along with reasserting the creedal foundational doctrines that some Modernists were rejecting, the Fundamentalists sought to declare once and for all a clear exposition of the gospel, centered upon a sin-forgiveness transaction based on Christ’s atoning death that results in the free gift of salvation. This is the gospel, the Fundamentalists would declare.

And thus, the fault lines were created. And they continue to rumble up to the present day.

This is the severed gospel we have inherited. And like Mark Scout and his co-workers on the severed floor, many Christians in America are longing for something more compelling. Dissatisfied with the simplistic script we’ve been handed, we crave to be part of a more beautiful story. A richer, grander metanarrative.

We yearn for a reintegration. Christ’s atoning death, his bodily resurrection, the experience of forgiveness for sin, and the promise of life in the age to come are indispensable components to this story. However, this is also a story that includes God’s longing for the world as it exists right now.

If we truly believe that Jesus is the reigning king of the nations today, then this gospel is not just something to be believed, but as the New Testament states repeatedly, it is to be obeyed.

Thus, the invitation of this good news is not simply to engage in a transaction to secure afterlife salvation, but to enter into and participate in Jesus’ saving, healing work in the world right now.