The Motive Needed for Answered Prayer

By Don Whitney

One of the most important yet neglected principles on answered prayer is taught by Jesus in John 14:13. We read: "And I will do whatever you ask in My name, so that the Son may bring glory to the Father."

I do not claim that this is the key to answered prayer. We should be careful when we hear someone talk about the key to anything in the spiritual life. Occasionally there is validity in saying that something is the key to a spiritual matter, but that is not so with answered prayer. There is not one key to answered prayer, but several. For instance, the Bible emphasizes the importance of faith, obedience, confession of sin, gratitude, praise, unit yin the home, and several other things in relation to answered prayer.

We must not fall into the common trap, however, of trying to juggle all these things into the right "formula" for answered prayer. The result is to approach prayer like the people who pick numbers for the state lottery: Pick the right elements of prayer and put them in the right order, then bingo! You've hit the jackpot! Your prayer is answered! A kind of "spiritual lotto." Many try this approach every day, either staying with the same combination, hoping that eventually they will be a winner, or changing things around, trying to find the formula that works. The problem is that there is a general feeling with this method that prayers are answered about as often as an individual gambler wins the lottery.

What this article declares is not another part of prayer to juggle. Nor does it propose another possibility to try as part of a new combination. Instead it teaches a new attitude about prayer as a whole. This article deals specifically with the motive needed for answered prayer.

Why is it important to know the biblical motive for prayer? Because it is possible to do everything we normally think of as the "right things" for prayer and still not have our prayers answered, simply because we have the wrong motive. Yet, if we have the right motive, most of the other things will take care of themselves, and we will see more answered prayer than ever before. Not only that, the right motive for prayer will give us more peace and rest in acceptance of what we call unanswered prayer than we have ever had before.

If we see this truth for what it is, we will pray differently from before. Even if we pray about the same things in the same way, we will have a completely different attitude about prayer. Among other passages, this principle about prayer is based on John 14:13 where Jesus said, "And I will do whatever you ask in My name, so that the Son may bring glory to the Father." Concisely put, the principle of prayer from this verse relating to our motive for answered prayer is this: The motive for our every prayer should be concern for the glory of God. 

That may not have sounded as revolutionary as you expected, but that's good. If no one had ever heard it before, one would have good reason to be suspicious. This is a truth, though, that has often been neglected, and that to our loss. However, it has not been that way with the great men and women of prayer.

One of the classic popular books on prayer is Andrew Murray's With Christ in the School of Prayer. Writing on John 14:13 he says,

That the Father may be glorified in the Son: it is to this end that Jesus on His throne In glory will do all we ask in His Name. Every answer to prayer He gives will have this as its object; when there is no prospect of this object being obtained, He will not answer. It follows as a matter of course that this must be with us, as with Jesus, the essential element in our petitions: the glory of the Father must be our aim and end, the very soul and life of our prayer. [1]

The motive for our every prayer should be concern for the glory of God.

Did you notice how Murray said, "This must be with us, as with Jesus, the essential element in our petitions."? That is where we should start.

The Motive of Jesus' Life Was His Concern for the Glory of God 

If Jesus' great motivation in life was His concern for the glory of God, that should be our motive, too, especially in our prayers. Notice these passages which show us just how important the glory of God really was to Jesus.

1. We see it illustrated In His own relationship with the Father. 

John 12:27-28. Here is Jesus in His last words before the public prior to His crucifixion. Notice what He says as He realizes the significance of the hour: "Now My heart is troubled, and what shall I say? 'Father, save Me from this hour'? No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour. Father, glorify Your name!" Then a voice came from heaven, "I have glorified it, and will glorify it again" (italics mine).

John 13:31-32. This is right after Jesus and His disciples have finished taking the supper together, and Judas has left to go to the chief priests and Pharisees to betray Him. "When he was gone, Jesus said, 'Now is the Son of Man glorified and God is glorified in Him. If God is glorified in Him, God will glorify the Son in Himself, and will glorify Him at once'" (italics mine).

This is not material easily followed, but the point clearly seen is that Jesus' concern here was the glory of the Father.

John 17:1. This is a little later, perhaps less than an hour later the same night. It is only a few minutes before Judas and the leaders of the Jews will come to arrest Jesus. This is what is known as the great High Priestly Prayer of Jesus. Somewhere between the last supper and His arrest a short while later, the disciples hear Jesus pray this prayer. Knowing that His arrest, torture, and death are only minutes away, notice what Jesus' concern was: "After Jesus said this, He looked toward heaven and prayed: 'Father, the time has come. Glorify Your Son, that Your Son may glorify you'" (italics mine).

The motive of Jesus' life was His concern for the glory of God. We see this illustrated not only in His own relationship with the Father, but ...

2. We see it illustrated in His teaching. 

Matthew 5:16. Here Jesus says why He wants us to live out the Gospel before the people of the world: "In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven" (italics mine).

Matthew 6:9-13. This is the model prayer Jesus gave to us. This is especially relevant to the idea that the motive of our every prayer should be concern for the glory of God. Notice in this model prayer what Jesus makes the main emphasis both in the beginning and the end - it is the glory of God.

"This is how you should pray: 'Our Father in heaven, hallowed be Your name, Your kingdom come, Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us today our daily bread. Forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one, for Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen'" (italics mine).

What Jesus taught, and especially when He taught on prayer, He taught that our main concern was to be the glory of God.

3. We see it illustrated in the results of His ministry. 

A quick survey of five familiar passages in Luke's Gospel shows that the results of Jesus' ministry reflected that which most motivated and concerned Him - the glory of God. Notice the response of the paralytic healed in Luke 5:24-26: "But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins .... He said to the paralyzed man, 'I tell you, get up, take your mat and go home.' Immediately he stood up in front of them, took what he had been lying on and went home praising God" (italics mine).

Observe what happened when Jesus raised a dead man of Nain in Luke 7:15-16: "The dead man sat up and began to talk, and Jesus gave him back to his mother. They were all filled with awe and praised God" (italics mine).

After Jesus healed a crippled woman on the Sabbath, the result was that she gave glory to God.

"When Jesus saw her," says Luke 13:12-13, "He called her forward and said to her, 'Woman, you are set free from your infirmity.' Then He put His hands on her, and immediately she straightened up and praised God." (italics mine).

We normally think of the cleansing of the ten lepers in the context of giving thanks. As appropriate as that is, look at what Jesus really asked in Luke 17:17-18: "Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?" (italics mine).

See how God received glory when Jesus healed a blind man in Luke 18:42-43: "Jesus said to him, 'Receive your sight; your faith has healed you.' Immediately he received his sight and followed Jesus, praising God. When all the people saw it, they also praised God" (italics mine).

In His personal relationship with the Father, in His teaching, and even in the results of His ministry, Jesus' main motive and concern was the glory of God. If it was the main motive of His life, then certainly it should be for ours. That is why ...

The Motive of Our Every Prayer Should Be Concern for the Glory of God 

That, according to Jesus, is the motive needed for answered prayer. Remember our beginning text, John 14: 13? Jesus said, "And I will do whatever you ask in My name, so that the Son may bring glory to the Father" (italics mine).

When we pray, our first concern should be for the glory of God.

I came across the story of a man who prayed like that. He lived in Switzerland during the latter part of the last century and early part of this one. His name was Samuel Zeller. He was visited by a godly Norwegian seminary professor named Ole Hallesby. Hallesby later recorded the story in his enduring book titled simply, Prayer.

Hallesby writes, "I do not exaggerate when I say that I have never heard anyone pray as he did, although I have heard many who were more emotional and more fervent when they prayed. Zeller, on the contrary, was quiet and confident while he prayed. He knew God well, and for that reason he was confident.

I do not believe that I have ever heard anyone expect so much of God and so little of his own prayers as he did. He merely told God what was needed. He knew God would take care of the rest. His prayers were reverent, but natural, conversations with God, as though God were sitting in the first pew and Zeller were standing before Him. 

Thus he prayed every day for many people and for many things. But as I listened to these prayers of his I had to say to myself, "After all he prays only one prayer, namely that the name of God might be glorified." 

Oftentimes he prayed for miracles. But never without adding, "If It will glorify Thy name." Nor was he ever afraid to pray for instantaneous healing, but always with the provision mentioned above. 

He made no attempt to dictate to God or to force Him by His own promises .... For that reason he would often say, "If it will glorify Thy name more, then let them remain sick; but, If that be Thy will, give them power to glorify Thy name through their illness." 

Here the purpose and meaning of prayer dawned upon me for the first time. Here I was privileged to see more clearly than ever before the purpose of prayer: to glorify the name of God. [2] 

The motive of our every prayer should be concern for the glory of God.

That is how it has always been. A much earlier biblical illustration that shows concern for the glory of God as the motive for answered prayer can be seen in the story of Elijah on Mt. Carmel with the prophets of Baal. Notice in this brief prayer what his main concern was:

At the time of the sacrifice, the prophet Elijah stepped forward and prayed: "O Lord, God of Abraham, Isaac and Israel, let it be known today that You are God in Israel and that I am Your servant and have done all these things at Your command. Answer me, O Lord, answer me, so these people will know that You, O Lord, are God, and that You are turning their hearts back again" (1 Kings 18:36-37. Italics mine). 

As Psalm 37:4 reveals, David knew this too. He knew that the motive needed for answered prayer is concern for the glory of God. David tells us, "Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart."

In other words, if your first concern is sincerely for the Lord and His glory, your prayers will be answered. If the answer to your prayer will glorify the Lord, then it will be done. But the motive that is needed for answered prayer is concern for the glory of God.

The same is true in Psalm 79:9. The prayer request here is for help from God, for deliverance, and for the forgiveness of sins. But notice the motive behind the prayer: "Help us, O God our Savior, for the glory of Your name; deliver us and forgive for our sins for Your name's sake." The motive of our every prayer should be concern for the glory of God.

This sort of motive will make a tremendous difference in our praying. It can give us peace and rest in whatever answer we receive because we know it is to the glory of God. It can sometimes even give us great boldness in prayer because we know our highest concern is God's glory.

This happened to the famous reformer of the church, Martin Luther. In 1540 Luther's good friend, Frederick Myconius, became deathly sick. Both Myconius himself and others expected that he would soon die. One night he wrote with a trembling hand his farewell to Luther, whom he loved very much. When Luther received the letter, he sent back the following reply immediately, "I command thee in the name of God to live because I still have need of thee in the work of reforming the church .... The Lord will never let me hear that thou are dead, but will permit thee to survive me. For this I am praying, this is my will, and may my will be done, because I seek only to glorify the name of God." Myconius had already lost his ability to speak when Luther's letter came, but in a short time he was well again. True enough, he lived six more years and survived Luther by two months. [3]

Quoting Hallesby again, "Nothing makes us so bold in prayer as when we can look into the eye of God and say to Him, 'Thou knowest that I am not praying for personal advantage, not to avoid hardship, nor that my own will in any way should be done, but only for this, that Thy name might be glorified.''' [4]

The motive of our every prayer should be concern for the glory of God. But what is usually our motive when we pray? That is made painfully clear to us in James 4:3. Why is it that we pray as rightly as we know how and still do not see answers come?

"When you ask, you do not receive," James says, "because you ask with wrong motives, that you may spend what you get on your pleasures."

In other words, we may pray and do everything rightly - we may praise the Lord, confess our sins, express gratitude, and ask in faith - and still not have our prayer answered. Why? Because our motive was wrong. Instead of our motive being concern for the glory of God, our motive was selfish. We prayed with our concern in mind more than for God's glory. What does the Bible say? "You ask and do not receive because you ask with wrong motives, that you may spend what you get on your pleasures."

That thought about spending it on our pleasures is not just referring to extravagant and needless prayers like, "Give me a million dollars, so we can be rich." Maybe it would clarify things to emphasize the word "your" just before the word "pleasures." That is saying that our prayers are not answered - even when we do everything else right - because we want the answers for our pleasures, not God's. With that standard of measurement, we can pray for most good things with the wrong motive. For instance, we can pray for revival with selfish motives, we can pray for someone to be healed with wrong motives, we can pray for someone to be saved because we want it.

We can pray for the right things in the wrong way. We can pray for the right things but have the wrong motive, and our prayers will not be answered. George Mueller, who stands like a mountain peak above most others as a man of prayer, said, "As the great root of sin is self and self-seeking, so there is nothing that even in our spiritual desires so effectively hinders God in answering as this: we pray for our own pleasure or glory." [5]

The right and only motive for answered prayer is concern for the glory of God.

More Application 

1. Praying with concern for God's glory as our motive will sometimes be difficult to do sincerely.

Praying with this motive may be difficult to begin with because we are used to praying for something only because we want it. To pray now for that same thing for the glory of God, and to do that without hypocrisy, will take an adjustment.

It may also be difficult sometimes, such as in personal crises, to pray without being dominated by personal feelings. When you are praying about a family crisis, for example, it is hard to be concerned more with the glory of God than with your own feelings, but we must learn to pray this way.

2. Praying with concern for God's glory as our motive is a reality when we are willing for God to withhold the answer we desire if that would bring Him more glory. 

If you ever wonder whether you are really praying with God's glory as your main concern, ask yourself whether you would be willing for God to give you the opposite of what you are asking if that would bring more glory to Him.

3. Praying with concern for God's glory as our motive is just as valid in praying for ordinary, little things as in praying for big things. 

It may be easy to think that we are only talking about matters of prayer that are of major Significance, but this is for all prayer, even prayer about day-to-day, minor kinds of The Motive Needed for Answered Prayer things. The Lord knows that our daily lives are not made primarily of big things, but of little things. Since He wants us to pray about everything, He wants us to learn to be concerned about His glory even in the little things of daily life.

4. Praying with concern for God's glory as our motive gives us words to pray when we do not know God's will in a matter. 

The Bible tells us that our prayers have to be within God's will before He will answer us (1 John 5:14-15). Although we often fail to spend time trying to determine God's will on a matter, the truth is that sometimes we can never know God's will. When praying for someone who is sick, for example, or for a decision you are uncertain about, you may not have a clear sense of God's will in the matter. In such times, one thing you can pray is, "Lord, work in this matter so that You are glorified in it. Whether it should be this way or that, do the one which will glorify You the most."

5. Praying with concern for God's glory as our motive will bring more peace and rest into our praying. 

No longer will we feel as though we are trying to overcome God's unwillingness in our prayer. We feel at peace that what we are praying is what He wants. We can rest knowing that whatever answer He gives is ultimately for His glory. That gives us a new perspective on what we have previously called unanswered prayer.

Conclusion 

In the Westminster Catechism, the most famous and enduring (written in 1647) of all Protestant catechisms, the first question is, "What is the chief end of man?" The unforgettable answer is, "The chief end of man is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever." In the same way, the chief end of every prayer is to glorify God. As the Scripture says, "So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all to the glory of God' (1 Cor. 10:31. Italics mine).

Let us ask all to the glory of God!

End Notes

1. Andrew Murray, With Christ in the School of Prayer, p. 110. 
2. Ole Hallesby, Prayer, pp. 126-27. 
3. Ibid., p. 130. 
4. Ibid., p. 131. 
5. Murray, p. 188. 

Author 

Dr. Don Whitney is pastor of Glenfield Baptist Church, Glen Ellyn, IL. He is the author of Spiritual Disciplines for the Christian Life (NavPress, 1991), and a frequent contributor to other publications.

Worship of Christ and the Biblical Covenant

By Richard C. Leonard 

Some things are so obvious we tend to overlook them. Suppose I ask you, "What is the first thing you need to do in order to stay alive?" You might give several different answers, but there is only about a 50 percent chance you would give the obvious answer: "Keep breathing." The act of breathing is so automatic, and the air so invisible, that we forget about them until some respiratory crisis brings them to our attention.

It can be the same with our understanding of biblical teaching. Especially with evangelical Christians, whose high view of biblical authority can lead to proof-texting, it is easy to get caught up in the details and lose sight of the larger picture - what John Wesley called "the whole scope and tenor of Scripture." Thus Christians often focus on specific issues in a way which fails to integrate these issues into the central theme of Scripture. This loss of perspective can result in serious distortion of biblical doctrine, and in the failure to understand what the scriptural authorities are really driving at.

What, then, is this "central theme" of the Bible? The answer lies in asking why the Bible was given· in the first place. When you stop to think about it, Scripture came into being as the expression of the relationship between God and His people. To use the formula that occurs repeatedly in Scripture, "I will be their God, and they shall be My people" (Lev. 26:12; Jer. 31:33; Ezek. 37:27, etc.). The Bible typically portrays this relationship in terms of the covenant or its theological equivalents: the kingdom of God, the family of God, new life through union with the Son of God. All issues and concerns raised in Scripture have their place within the ebb and flow of the covenant relationship between the Lord and those who have pledged their loyalty to Him in worship and obedience. In this sense, covenant is the air we breathe in Scripture. Even where the concept of the covenant recedes into the background, it still supplies the framework and the thematic material for understanding all parts of the Old and New Testaments. In particular, it has profound implications for our worship of Christ as Lord and King.

Worship As Covenant 

Worship has been defined in many ways, but at heart it is the expression of our relationship with the Lord. Whatever happens in genuine worship (and much passes for worship which is not really worship), some statement is being made about the fact that the Lord is our God and we are His people. Worship, therefore, has an integral connection with covenant: it expresses the covenant, it interprets the covenant, it maintains the covenant, it extends the covenant. To make covenant is to worship, and to worship is to make covenant.

But worship, in the Bible, has more than a theological or motivational connection with the covenant. It has a structural connection as well. That is, more is involved in making a covenant than the simple desire to express our relationship to God. There is also a definite structure or form to the biblical covenant between the Lord and His people, along with a recognizable terminology. When we encounter this structure and terminology, we know we are in the presence of covenant-making, covenant renewal, or covenant interpretation. And, since worship and covenant go hand in hand, we also know we are dealing in some way with an order of worship.

Although the concept of the covenant in general has continuously informed Christian theology, especially in the Reformed tradition, the distinctive structure and terminology of the biblical covenant were recovered only in this century through archaeological discoveries. Several publications brought to light the features of ancient Near Eastern treaties; these were followed by studies demonstrating that the major biblical covenants share many of the same features. [1] The ancient treaties were pacts granted by an imperial ruler, or "great king," to his vassals or client-kings. The great king or "lord" promises protection in return for the total allegiance of the vassal or "servant." The servant must treat as brothers all other client kings who are in covenant with his lord, and is not to harm them or invade their territories. In addition, he is required to appear before the great king at specified times to bring tribute.

Israel's worship of Yahweh was based on this concept. Although Israel's pagan neighbors were familiar with such treaties as part of the general cultural background of the ancient Near East, they did not enter into covenant with their gods, who were regarded as unpredictable and could not be held to any sort of agreement. Yahweh, on the other hand, had revealed Himself as the One who had called the patriarchs and promised them a heritage, and had kept this promise in the deliverance of Israel from bondage.

Appearing in awesome majesty on Sinai, the Lord proclaims a treaty with His servants, reminding them of His faithfulness and asking of them a corresponding pledge of loyalty. Thus Yahweh stands in the position of the great King, with Israel collectively as His servant. Worship at Sinai takes the form of the enactment of the covenant; the covenant in turn provides regulations and a structure for worship. The history of Israelite worship is the story of the maintenance of the covenant, and its periodic renewal after periods of apostasy; The Christian church, which inherits the promises to Israel, takes up the same theme especially in its basic act of worship, the Lord's Supper. Through the framework of the covenant, God's people pledge their allegiance to Him, offer their tribute of praise to Christ the King of kings, and learn His ways.

Covenant Structure in Israelite Worship 

Political covenants, or treaties, were drawn up according to a specific pattern. They began with a historical prologue, in which the great king identified himself and often narrated the history of his relationship with the client king. This was followed by a statement of stipulations, the obligations required of his treaty partner. In the Bible, we see this pattern in the Decalogue, or "ten words," which opens the Sinai covenant. Identifying Himself and rehearsing His acts in behalf of His servants, the great King declares, "I am Yahweh your God, Who brought you out of the land of Egypt." The Lord continues by laying down the fundamental treaty obligation of His partners: "You shall have no other gods before Me" (Ex. 20:2-3). Other stipulations follow.

Typically, ancient treaties included sanctions, or the consequences, to follow if the servant either keeps the agreement or fails to live up to its stipulations. Obedience to the commandments brings blessing and great benefit from the hand of the great king, while violation of the stipulations results in the enactment of curses upon the unfaithful partner. In the Sinai covenant, blessings and curses are found in Leviticus 26. Treaties involved the taking of an oath to keep the terms of the agreement (cf. Ex. 24:7), usually swearing with the uplifted hand. The grantor of the treaty invokes witnesses, whose role is to listen to the terms of the treaty and carry out its sanctions. In pagan cultures, the gods of the great king and the client king are called as witnesses; in the biblical covenant, the witnesses are usually heaven and earth (e.g., Deut. 30:19).

The making of a covenant is usually accompanied by a ceremony of ratification. This ceremony was often a blood sacrifice. The partners walked between the cut pieces of the animal (the Hebrew expression for "make a covenant," karat berit, means literally "cut a covenant"); a biblical example is the covenant God made with Abram (Gen. 15:1-21). Or the partners were sprinkled with the blood of the sacrifice (Ex. 24:8). In these ways they identified with the slain animal; implied in this action was the thought, "God do so to me, and more also, if I violate the terms of this treaty." Ratification might also involve a meal shared by the covenant partners; in the Sinai ceremony, the elders of Israel "beheld God, and they ate and drank" (Ex. 24:11).

Biblical history records several subsequent acts of covenant renewal. The entire book of Deuteronomy, though cast as a sermon by Moses, is actually the narrative of a ceremony of renewal of the covenant; it is complete with the historical prologue (chapters 1-9, including the narrative of the Sinai Decalogue), the laws or stipulations (chapters 12-27), the pronouncement of sanctions in blessing and curse (chapters 28-29), the invocation of witnesses and the appeal to take the oath of covenant loyalty, or "choose life" (Deut. 30:19). Covenant ceremonies are found in the book of Joshua also. The liturgy recorded in Joshua 8:30-35 involves the reading of the laws and the recitation of blessing and . curse. The narrative of the assembly at Shechem (Josh. 24) records the historical preamble rehearsing what the great King has done for His servants (vv. 2-13), the people's oath of loyalty (vv. 14-21), the enactment of covenant statutes (v. 25), and the invocation of witnesses (the people themselves, v. 22, and a memorial stone pillar, vv. 26-27). David appointed musicians to worship in Zion before the ark of the covenant in rotating shifts, to renew and maintain the covenant in the sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving; many of the Psalms seem· to have originated in this setting. Solomon led the community in a festival of covenant renewal at the dedication of the temple (1 Kings 8: 1-9:9). Kings Josiah (2 Chron. 34:15-35:19) and Hezekiah (2 Chron. 29:1-31:21) also attempted to restore the. covenant by reading its stipulations to the people and commanding that it be celebrated with a ceremonial meal. Ezra the priest and Nehemiah the governor renewed the covenant with the remnant of Israel who returned to the land from their Babylonian captivity (Ezra 9:1-10:19; Neh. 12:26-13:31).

All the elements of covenant structure are material for acts of worship in the biblical tradition. The laws of the Pentateuch, for example, are often arranged in metrical groups, usually of ten or twelve statements (in addition to the Decalogue, examples are Ex. 21:12, 15-17; 23:1-19; 34:7- 26; Lev. 18:7-17; Deut. 27:15-26). Such grouping of laws renders them suitable for memorization and recitation, and reveals their real purpose: the covenant commandments were primarily acts of worship. They had a liturgical rather than judicial function, and were to be recited as acts of covenant renewal in the ongoing worship of Israel. [2]

The Psalms give evidence that the Decalogue was used in this way. Psalm 50 celebrates the Lord's "shining forth" out of Zion, summoning the covenant witnesses (heaven and earth, v. 4) to judge His people. This is obviously a covenant ceremony: "Gather My faithful ones [hasidim, those loyal to the covenant] to Me, those who have made a covenant with Me by sacrifice" (v. 5). Through a prophetic spokesman, God then addresses the assembly: "O Israel, I will testify against you; I am God, your God" (v. 7), language reminiscent of the opening of the Decalogue ("I am the Lord your God ..."). Beginning with verse 16, the Lord pronounces an indictment against the unfaithful, in terms that reflect several of the clauses of the Sinai Decalogue. This indictment opens with the question, "What right have you to tell of My statutes, and to take My covenant in your mouth?" This clearly refers to the ceremonial recitation of the covenant stipulations as a recurring act of worship in the gathered assembly. Psalm 81 has in mind a similar liturgy. The Lord speaks to the assembly, gathered on a festal occasion (cf. v. 3):

Hear, O My people, and I will warn you ... You shall have no foreign god among you ... I am the Lord your God, Worship of Christ and the Biblical Covenant Who brought you up out of Egypt. Open wide your mouth and I will fill it (vv. 8-10). 

Here we have the historical prologue which introduces the Sinai Decalogue, together with the first commandment which enjoins loyalty to Yahweh alone; the concluding phrase suggests that the worshipers' mouths were to be filled with the recitation of the covenant commandments.

Covenant in the Psalms 

The Book of Psalms, the major deposit of ancient Israel's worship of the Lord, reveals throughout the intimate connection between worship and covenant. Essentially there are two types of Psalms: Psalms of celebration and Psalms of petition. In the Psalms of celebration, the worshiper, or the congregation, exalts the Lord as the great King and declares His faithfulness, or develops some aspect of the covenant ceremony. Psalms proclaiming the enthronement of the Lord (47, 93, 95-99) portray Him as the great King. Psalms which rehearse redemptive history (78, 105-106, 135-136) reflect the historical prologue of the treaty-covenant, and are recited as acts of covenant reaffirmation. Psalms in praise of the law of the Lord (19, 119) reflect the congregation's renewed submission to the stipulations of covenant, as do Psalms of entrance into the sanctuary (15, 24) which examine the worshipers' conduct in the light of the covenant laws. The covenant associations of these Psalms are clear, for such worship is the tribute the servant offers to the King in fulfillment of His covenant obligation.

But covenant structure and terminology are equally evident in the Psalms of petition, in which the servant pledges his commitment to the great King, and appeals to Him in turn to honor the agreement between them. In such Psalms (the most numerous type in the Psalter), the speaker stands in the place of the servant-king, representing the faithful congregation before the great King. Indeed, in many of the Psalms the worshiper is the Judean ruler, David or one of his successors, appearing before the Lord in behalf of the community (although his words are actually sung by the Levitical musicians).

These Psalms are filled with affirmations of covenant loyalty, such as "You are my God" (63:1; 118:28; 140:6), "You are my Yahweh" (16:2), or "You are my King" (44:4). Such expressions are the servant's response ratifying the treaty offered him by the great King. A most striking feature of these Psalms is the frequent reference (in more than thirty Psalms) to the worshiper's enemies. A pervasive theme in the Psalter is the opposition between the faithful worshiper and the ungodly; in various forms, this theme is present in half of the Psalms, being set forth in the introductory Psalm:

Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment, Nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous. For the Lord watches over the way of the righteous, But the way of the wicked will perish (Ps. 1:5-6). 

Because the worshiper is in covenant with the Lord, the Lord's enemies are his enemies as well; the Psalms are filled with appeals in which the worshiper pledges his own loyalty to God while petitioning Him for deliverance from his enemies, the unfaithful:

I hate those who cling to worthless idols; I trust in the Lord ... They conspire against me And plot to take my life ... But, I trust in You, O Lord; I say, "You are my God." My times are in Your hands; Deliver me from of my enemies and from those who persecute me. Let Your face shine upon Your servant; Save me in Your unfailing-love (31:6, 13-16). 

The Psalms of imprecation, or cursing of enemies (35, 69, 109, 137), which have been something of an embarrassment to expositors-Wesley, for example, considered them unworthy of Christian usage-take on new relevance when viewed in the light of covenant affirmation. On the whole, the Psalms do not present a picture of a people worshiping in complacent unity, but reflect an intense struggle between those Israelites faithful to Yahweh's covenant and those viewed as apostate. This is exactly the situation depicted in the pre-exilic prophetic books, in which Yahweh's covenant is seen to be constantly threatened by spiritual indifference and the encroachments of false religious influences. The periodic affirmation of the covenant in festal worship is part of this ongoing struggle, the witness of the faithful to the sovereignty of the great King.

Covenant-love and the Confession of Loyalty 

Like the client appealing to the great king for protection, the worshiper appeals to the Lord for deliverance on the basis of Yahweh's own faithfulness to the covenant. Although the community of Israel has bound itself to God and had pledged to abide by His precepts, in the Psalmist's eyes it is chiefly the Lord who, having granted the covenant, continues to uphold it by His grace. Often the Psalms speak of His "faithfulness" and His "righteousness"; these qualities are not randomly displayed attributes of God, but refer to His active intervention specifically in the life of His people to maintain the covenant. Virtually synonymous with these terms, and used more often (more than 120 times in 53 Psalms), is the word hesed, usually translated "lovingkindness," "love," "steadfast love," or "mercy." Again, Yahweh's hesed is not His impartial benevolence to all creation, but specifically His mercy to His own people, out of loyalty to the covenant. Only those who have obligated themselves in treaty with the great King have the right to appeal to Him on the basis of His hesed; the best translation is therefore covenant-love. It is because of the Lord's covenant-love, His faithfulness to His own word, that the worshiper may plead with Him for help and salvation:

Rise up and help us; And redeem us because of Your covenant-love (Ps. 44:26). 

In Your unfailing covenant-love silence my enemies; Destroy all my foes, For I am Your servant (Ps. 143:12).

In many respects "covenant-love" is the key concept in the Book of Psalms; it pervades all that is said to, or about, Yahweh, whether the word hesed is present or not. In its praise of the Lord, Israel joyfully celebrates His covenant love:

It is good to praise the Lord, And make music to Your name, O Most High, To proclaim Your covenant-love in the morning And Your faithfulness at night (Ps. 92:1-2).  

The most often-repeated thanksgiving in the Psalter (Pss. 106:1; 107:1; 118:1,29; 136:1-26; cf. 1 Chron. 16:34; 2 Chron. 20:21) praises Yahweh for His loyalty to the covenant: "O give thanks to the Lord, for He is good; for His covenant-love endures forever."

This phrase, however; needs to be retranslated, for the usual English rendering conceals another key covenant element of Israelite worship: the oath of loyalty to God. The verb translated "give thanks," hodah, is derived from the root yadah, which signifies the lifting or extending of the hand (yael). To lift the hand is the time-honored gesture of oath-taking; ancient monuments depict officials lifting the hand in oath before rulers, and the gesture remains in use in the modern court system. To cite a biblical example, Ezekiel refers several times to the Lord's swearing with uplifted hand in granting the covenant (see especially 20:5-6, where the expression "I swore" reads literally, in Hebrew, "I lifted up the hand"). The biblical invitation to "give thanks to the Lord" really means to confess the Lord as God, to acknowledge that one's loyalty is to Him alone, through the gesture of lifting the hand in oath.

Covenant Worship in the New Testament 

In the New Testament, the concept of covenant is often subsumed under other metaphors which describe the relationship between the Lord and His people. The most important of these is the kingdom of God, which was the primary theme of Jesus' teaching and preaching; the celebration of the dominion of the great King, as we have seen, lies at the heart of the biblical understanding of covenant. The new Israel is also called the body of Christ. Numerous references to God as Father, to believers as brothers and to the church as a household portray the church in terms of a family. There are, however, many references to the covenant itself, and the brief covenant formulary of the Hebrew Scriptures, "I will be their God, and they shall be My people," is applied to the church by several New Testament writers (Heb. 11:16; 1 Pet. 2:10; Rev. 21:3).

With respect to Christian worship, the most obvious reference to covenant in the New Testament is Jesus' institution of the Lord's Supper, when He declares, "This is My blood of the new covenant, which is poured out for many" (Mark 14:24). The death of Christ is the sacrifice which enacts the new covenant, which now embraces not only the faithful Jew but the believing Gentile as well (as, indeed, the covenant with Israel originally included any worshiper of Yahweh, regardless of ancestry). The continued observance of the Lord's Supper is a re-presentation of the death of Christ (1 Cor. 11:26) which has created the people of the new covenant.

Yet the "body" celebrated in the Lord's Supper is not the physical body of Christ on the cross, but the "body" of the new covenant community brought into being through His sacrifice. This is clear from Paul's instructions to the Christians of Corinth:

And is not the bread that we break a participation [koinonia, mutuality or communion at a deep level] in the body of Christ? Because there is one loaf, we, who are many, are one body, for we all partake of the one loaf (1 Cor. 10:16-17). 

In describing the Lord's Supper, Paul's aim is to correct its abuse by those who consumed it carelessly, without regard for other members of the community; his argument is based on the idea that the Lord's Supper is not an individual but a corporate action. The self-examination involved in the Lord's Supper is not a general introspective inventory of one's morality and motivation, but is specifically directed at encouraging each worshiper to "discern the body" in partaking - to receive it, in other words, mindful of his or her identification with the covenant community. Thus the Lord's Supper is the covenant meal, an act of covenant ratification reminiscent of the meal shared by the elders of Israel before the Lord on Sinai. To eat it without "discerning the body" is to bring judgment upon oneself for profaning the bread and cup of the Lord (1 Cor. 11:27-29). Here we note another element of covenant structure, the enactment of sanctions when the relationship is violated: the curse of the covenant takes effect in judgment upon the unfaithful.

The focus in Paul's discussion of worship is always the body, whether with respect to the Lord's Supper or to the prophetic assembly described in 1 Corinthians 12-14. In the latter, for example, he seeks to regulate the practice of tongues with a concern similar to that involved in his warning to "discern the body" in the Lord's Supper. Tongues are directed to God in praise and thanksgiving (14:2, 16), but are a "sign" or offense to unbelievers who might be present (14:22-23). When a worshiper speaks in a tongue; this does not edify the assembly unless someone interprets, so that the "ungifted" may say his "Amen" to the giving of thanks (v. 16). The whole thrust of Paul's analysis is the corporate nature of Christian celebration, and the need to monitor individual expressions with a view to the edification of the entire church. All this is part. of living out Jesus' new covenant commandment, to "love one another just as I have loved you" (John 13:34); the Christian principle of agape is founded throughout on the Old Testament concept of hesed, covenant-love. 

The New Testament church viewed itself as the "Israel of God" (Gal. 6:16), the true heir of God's covenant promises. Like Israel assembled at Mount Sinai, the church is "a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for God's own possession" (1 Peter 2:9; cf. Ex. 19:5-6). The church is "Mount Zion" (Heb. 12:22), the "Jerusalem above" (Gal. 4:26; cf. Ps. 87:5), the city of God in which the Lord dwells in covenant with His people (Rev. 21:2-3). Because of the continuity of the covenant, one might wonder why more of the festal quality of Israelite covenant celebration was not carried over into the New Testament's picture of Christian worship. There was no question, of course,of continuing the priestly rituals of the Jewish temple, since the Mosaic sacrifices had found their completion. in the death of the Lamb of God. But Yahwistic covenant worship, as portrayed in the Psalms and elsewhere, involved, more than the sacrificial cult. It included processions, the dance, the shout of victory, the clapping of hands, as well as the full panorama of vocal and instrumental music. Why are these aspects of covenant celebration not reflected in the worship of the apostolic church?

There are two principal explanations for this situation. In the first place, the New Testament documents were created during a brief period in the life of the emerging church, probably not more than one generation (A.D. 30-70). [3] There was not sufficient time for the new community to develop a festal tradition of its own. More importantly, the church was a movement under persecution. Its cultural position as a minority within a hostile environment (especially in areas where there was a strong traditional Jewish presence) did not allow it to engage in open festivities of the character portrayed in the Hebrew Scriptures. Such public witness to Christ's kingship would have been regarded as highly provocative.

For these reasons, the apostolic church. was largely restricted to portraying festal celebration as an ideal, or future possibility. The Letter to the Hebrews (12:23) calls the church a "festal assembly" (paneguris, which literally means "everyone going round and round"). Paul looks ahead to the day when the covenant will be universally acknowledged in visible acts of worship:" ... that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow ... and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father" (Phil. 2:10-11).

The biblical words translated "worship" in English (Hebrew hishtahavah, Greek proskuneo) mean, literally, to "bow down," "bend the knee," "prostrate oneself." Such is the gesture of the vassal doing homage to his lord, the servant acknowledging the dominion of the great king, It is this bodily gesture of submission to Christ that Paul has in mind, together with the confession of His lordship in the form of the oath of covenant allegiance. This confession, along with the recognition of the reality of Christ's resurrection, is what brings a person into the new life of deliverance from old bondages (Rom. 10:9-10).

But the New Testament's vision of covenant worship comes to a climax in the Book of Revelation. The judgments of the Revelation are the enactment of the curses inherent in the covenant upon those who have turned away from their loyalty to the great King. [4] Furthermore, the structure of the book reveals its covenant associations. The drama unfolds in a series of sevens (note also the opening letters to seven churches); the Hebrew word for swearing an oath of loyalty (nishba') means, literally, to "seven oneself." [5] Because the oath of loyalty has been broken, the curses must now take effect. The depiction of these judgments occurs in a context of the worship of the "King of kings and Lord of lords," obvious treaty-covenant nomenclature. This worship is instigated by the four living creatures (4:8), who are the cherubim guarding the ark of the covenant in the Israelite sanctuary. (There were actually four in Solomon's temple, two on the cover of the ark itself and two larger ones guarding it in the "most holy place.") The living creatures are joined by 24 elders representing the totality of the covenant people: 12 for the tribes of Israel, and 12 for the apostolic church, the new Israel As the worship builds, it expands to incorporate "a great multitude ... from every nation, tribe, people and language" who offer their tribute of praise and allegiance to God and to the Lamb (7:9-10). As the final scene opens, we see God living with His people, the "new Jerusalem." A voice proclaims the familiar Old Testament covenant formulary, in the form "He will live with them. They will be His people" (21:3), and God pronounces His blessing upon the faithful, followed by curse upon the violators of the covenant (21:6-8). The centrality of Christ, the Lamb, in this worship is emphasized as the scene unfolds (Rev. 21:22-27).

The Revelation to John is perhaps too dramatically visionary to be an actual liturgy, but its covenant structure and pronounced associations with Israelite worship may reveal the liturgical aspirations, and to a degree, the practice of the apostolic church. Historic Christian liturgy moves through a sequence of entrance, service of the Word, service of the Lord's table, and dismissal. This pattern certainly reflects the general outline of biblical covenant structure. The entrance serves as the prologue, a joyful celebration of the Lord's dominion and His acts of salvation. The service of the Word brings forth the Scriptures as the stipulations or charter defining the relationship between the great King and His servants. The service of the Lord's table is an act of covenant affirmation, the worshipers' pledge of loyalty in the intimacy of communion and mutual participation. The dismissal is a time of benediction of blessing pronounced upon the faithful, those who keep the covenant with Christ their King.

Conclusion 

From this brief survey of worship and covenant in the Bible, perhaps we can draw some general principles for our own practice of Christian worship.

First, the Lord's covenant is with a people, the "royal priesthood." Christian worship is corporate, an action of the body, in which each worshiper has a role according to his or her gifts, but in which the focus is always upon the action of the community as the servant of the Lord.

Second, worship is the declaration that "Jesus Christ is Lord," the oath of loyalty we take as His servants to acknowledge and obey Him alone as the supreme authority in life. Worship is the principal activity through which the covenant is proclaimed, affirmed, and extended.

Third, worship is the tribute we bring to our great King; it is our obligation as His partners in the covenant. As Christians, we present this tribute because Christ's death has opened the covenant up to us, offering through Him "a sacrifice of praise [to God] - the fruit of lips that confess His name" (Heb. 13:15).

Fourth, there is a historic sequence to Christian worship, a sequence patterned after the celebration of covenant renewal in the religion of Israel. When this sequence is disturbed, or parts of it are missing, worship is.incomplete. Especially, if we seldom observe the Lord's Supper, or do so in a perfunctory manner, we have neglected the covenant meal, the act of ratification that says, "You are my God!"

Fifth, because God is one, His covenant is one, and His people are one. The Scriptures of the early Christian community were "the Law of Moses and the Prophets and the Psalms" (Luke 24:44), suggesting that the regulative principle; of worship might legitimately be established - on a broader scriptural foundation, one not entirely limited to the New Testament. Visible actions characteristic of Israel's covenant celebration are perhaps more appropriate in the worship of the church than some authorities have been inclined to accept. As worshipers of the Lord of lords, we may find it appropriate to offer our tribute not only through vocal expression, but also through the ceremonial and the festivity of high celebration, the bowing in homage before God as the Holy One, and the lifting of hands in the pledge of loyalty.

Jesus spoke of worship "in spirit and truth" (John 4:23-24). It is easy to misinterpret these words to mean that true . worship is invisible, or a matter of the intellect alone. In the Bible, however, the spiritual is not the invisible, but that which is informed by the spirit, or breath, of God; as such, it may be highly visible, spirited behavior. And truth is that which is faithful to the Word of God (John 17:17). Christian worship, therefore, is spirited action in conformity with scriptural principles. Understanding the fundamental concept of the biblical covenant, with its distinctive structure, terminology and accompanying gestures, is basic to the restoration of worship which glorifies Christ "in spirit and truth."

End Notes 

1. The important volume by Viktor Korosec, Hethitische Staatsvertrage: Ein Beitrag zu ihrer juristischen Wertung (Leipziger rechtswissenschaftliche Studien, 1931) initially laid outthe structure of Hittite vassal treaties in particular. George E. Mendenhall's monograph of 1955, Law and Covenant in Israel and the Ancient Near East (originally published the previous year in The Biblical Archaeologist) called attention to the structural connections between these ancient treaties and the biblical covenant. Subsequent studies further developed the concept of the covenant along these lines. Notable are Klaus Baltzer, Das Bundesformular (1964; English translation, The Covenant Formulary, Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1971); Delbert R. Hillers, Covenant: The History of a Biblical Idea (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1969); and D.J. McCarthy, Old Testament Covenant (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1972). From an evangelical perspective, the work of Meredith G. Kline has been of particular significance in demonstrating the importance of the meaning of biblical revelation. See especially Treaty of the Great King: The Covenant Structure of Deuteronomy (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans, 1972). A full discussion of the implications of covenant structure and terminology for the understanding of biblical theology and worship is found inJ.E. Leonard, I Will Be Their God: Understanding the Covenant (Chicago: Laudemont Press, 1992). 
2. Jesus' principles of the kingdom of God are sometimes similarly cast in metrical form, as in the Beatitudes and other parts of the Sermon on the Mount (Matt. 5-7), suggesting their preservation in a context of new covenant worship and corporate recitation, 
3. Most New Testament writings seem to reflect the period prior to the destruction of the Jerusalem temple and its religious establishment. This event was viewed as a momentous vindication of the witness of the persecuted saints (e.g., Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History, 3.5:3- 7). Since Jesus predicted the temple's destruction as part of His scenario for the "end of the age" (Mark 13:2, 14 and parallels), we should expect to find elsewhere in the New Testament some reference to its having occurred, unless all or most of the apostolic writings predated the event. 
4. Therefore, the unfaithful city of the Revelation has to be Jerusalem, with its religious establishment, the persecutor of the early church, and not Rome, which was never in covenant with Yahweh. See J .E. Leonard, Come Out of Her, My People: A Study of the Revelation to John (Chicago: Laudemont Press, 1991), pp. 121-36. 
5. Ibid., pp. 30-31. 

Author 

Dr. Richard C. Leonard is president of Laudemont Ministries, a ministry dedicated to the promotion of biblically informed worship. An ordained Congregational minister and former college professor, he is editor for, and contributor to, The Complete Library of Christian Worship, to be published in seven volumes by Abbott Martyn Press.

The Unique Christ and the Modern Challenge

By John H. Armstrong 

Through 20 centuries the Christian church has consistently realized that what it confesses regarding the person of Jesus of Nazareth is of paramount importance. Christianity stands and falls by what it believes and confesses regarding this person! For this reason every generation since the first has been called upon to answer the question: "Who do you say that I am?"

While Christology has always been of central importance for Christianity the subject has never been easy. Consider, for example, the great convocation known as the Council at Chalcedon (451 A.D.). Here heresies and challenges were taken up openly. Affirmations that have served the church well for 15 centuries were put forward. Yet Chalcedon did not elaborate on a number of questions related to Christology, especially positive reflections on New Testament teaching regarding the uniqueness of Jesus. It prescribed sound doctrine, as far as it went, but it addressed problems and issues without taking up specific applications.

This is illustrated in the affirmation of the Council concerning two natures in one person. The Council informs us what this statement does not mean but did not address many positive issues. Millard J. Erickson, a Baptist theologian, aptly comments: "It may not be an exaggeration to say that there have been more of these epochal developments in the past one hundred years than in all of the preceding centuries." [1]

The uniqueness of Jesus has often been assumed, but generally unconsidered by evangelicals in our era. We often begin with the false premise that no one else ever claimed to be the Messiah. From there we assume that most of the teachings of the early church were unique to Christianity and the apostolic witness. Surely no one else believed in incarnate deities who were dying and rising saviors in whom lay all truth. Yet ancient documents reveal such beliefs were quite prevalent.

What then makes Jesus of Nazareth unique from all other claimants to be "the way, the truth and the life" (John 14:6a)? How does the New Testament set forth this unique One? And how shall we set forth His person in our pluralistic age where global awareness itself calls into question the universality and normativeness of Jesus?

The Problem Stated

If the classical Chalcedonian Christology (i.e., Jesus is the God-man, two natures in one person) is a true understanding of the person of Jesus, then the church has correctly believed that Jesus is unique among men. The doctrine of the incarnation says much about Christ, as well as about God. But it says a great deal about man as well. Did God really become man, and live among us? (Cf. John 1:14.) And was this a one-time incarnational appearance as the Scriptures testify?

It has been argued that the consequence of a unique incarnation is the basis of a unique salvation for all mankind, for all time, and in all places. Erickson concludes, "There is just one true religious understanding and way of life, and there is a qualitative difference between biblical Christianity and all other faiths." [2]

Erickson addresses our concern in his magnificent book, The Word Became Flesh, concluding:

Contact with persons of other cultures has particularly accelerated in the late twentieth century. One effect of these new relationships has been to call into question the uniqueness of the Christian religion vis-a-vis the beliefs, practices, and leaders of other religions. This in turn challenges the idea that the incarnation as a once-for-all occurrence is normative for all persons and all times. The result has been the growth of a universalist Christology. [3] 

A significant number of twentieth-century theologians have challenged exclusivism, or the uniqueness of Jesus. The problem itself is not new. It parallels problems raised by historical universalism over the centuries. (By universalism I mean the teaching that all will be saved, whether or not they believe in Jesus as the Christ.) Erickson is again helpful when he writes:

In recent years, however, with the phenomenon of globalization, or the growing contact of Christianity and of Western culture in general with other cultures and other religions, the problem has become more pronounced. The shrinking world has resulted, for some Christians and theologians, in a shrunken Christ. [4] 

The problem plainly surfaces in recent treatments. One example is that of Paul Knitter , a Roman Catholic theologian who has plainly stated a pluralist vision of Christ and the gospel in his book, No Other Name? (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1985). Knitter, a former missionary, believes that all religious traditions are talking about the same reality. Can one be "saved" by "some other name," he asks throughout. His answer is "yes," and his book is an attempt to square his affirmation with Christian theology. We might say that Knitter's Christ is unique, but not finally, or exclusively, unique!

Raimundo Panikkar, an Asian Indian who is a Roman Catholic priest, and Stanley Samarth, also an Indian and a presbyter of the Church of South India, defend these same kinds of ideas as well.

Perhaps the best known proponent of a Christ who is not truly unique is the British philosopher John Hick. He has contributed such books as: God Has Many Names (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1982); God and the Universe of Faiths: Essays in the Philosophy of Religion (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1973); Problems of Religious Pluralism (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1985); and the bombshell which dropped with considerable effect, The Myth of God Incarnate (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1977), where Hick brought together, as editor, several essayists supporting essentially the same thesis.

Factors Leading Toward Denial of Christ's Uniqueness 

Each of these authors, and others who follow the same approach, offers a number of challenges to historic, orthodox, Chalcedonian Christology. Following Erickson's approach I will offer a brief look at several factors which have led Hick, and others, to this conclusion. These include:

The Diversity of Religions. Christians are clearly the minority in the world. Having assumed that they have the gospel for all men everywhere, how can Christians who hold to the uniqueness of Jesus explain the rejection of Him by most peoples?

The Connection Between Ethnicity and Religion. What religion one holds is clearly the result of where he is born and the practices of his own people. What happens, argues Hick, to the conception of a loving God, if most people are born into an environment where they are already committed to a particular religious belief system as a result of birth?

The Lack of Missionary Success. It is argued that missionary success is generally "downwards," i.e., in lands where relatively primitive religions hold sway, such as among tribal peoples, rather than in places, where more sophisticated religions hold influence. Most converts, it is argued, come from animism and polytheism. Knitter writes, "When confronted by living religions, especially if they are undergirded by some kind of intellectual system, Christian missionaries have had practically no success of conversions." [5]

Religious Life in Non-Christian Religions. This observation is expressed in the words of one universalist who writes of his gratitude for the people of a country where he was a The Unique Christ and the Modern Challenge missionary. Says Eugene Hillman, "The Masai people taught me the meaning of religious pluralism and demonstrated in their lives that God's grace is not less operative among non-Christians than it is among Christians." [6]

Historically two kinds of response have been generally offered to the kinds of arguments presented by Hick and others. The first position concerning the uniqueness question has been expressed in what is called exclusivism. This was expressed in Roman Catholic theology as extra ecclesiam nulla salus ("Outside the church, no salvation"). In this present time it would be hard to find a serious Catholic theologian who would defend this position. The Protestant response, though different in its beginning point, ended similarly by saying, in effect, "Outside of Christianity, no salvation." What this meant, for traditional theological formulation, was that the vast majority of the people on this planet were perishing without the knowledge of the unique One!

For men like John Hick to respond to exclusivism requires not just an entirely new understanding of the uniqueness of Jesus but an entirely new understanding of His work in salvation as well. He posits that salvation has nothing to do with. the removal of guilt incurred through Adamic failure and personal responsibility. Forgiveness which is grounded in Christ's sacrificial death would, Hick concedes, necessitate salvation - in Christ alone. But we must escape this kind of exchisivism. We must not be "blinded by the dark dogmatic spectacles through which [the Christian] can see no good in religious devotion outside his own group." [7]

The second response offered to views like those of Hick has been that of inclusivism. This has been a popular choice for certain liberal theologians and is becoming more fashionable in what,were once considered "safe" evangelical settings. In this view the uniqueness of Christ is maintained but all persons are (somehow) included in His salvific work. Even those who have not consciously placed their trust in Him receive the benefits of His sacrifice. In some theologies salvation is not divine forgiveness through Christ's atoning work, but moral transformation of human life which can come through various religious contexts, since Christ is over all. It is in this idea that we hear of the "unknown Christ of Hinduism." (Here we have echoes of Karl Rahner's concept of the anonymous Christian and Hans Kung's thesis of salvation in "the ordinary way" and "the extraordinary way," by which he means through the church!) Modern evangelicalism has produced its own versions of inclusivism as well. According to this idea, everyone will be given an opportunity to come to conscious acceptance of the unique One. Whoever has not done so will be given opportunity in the next life! Clark Pinnock, reflecting a variation of this idea, believes that on the basis of 1 Peter 3:19-20 and 4:6 everyone will have at least a first chance to believe, and if this does not come in this lifetime it will occur at death. [8]

Hick rejects both of these historic responses to the uniqueness of Jesus and salvation by accepting a third one, namely the increasingly popular notion of pluralism. Erickson comments:

Rather than holding that one religion is supreme and that all persons must somehow be participants in this one religion, as does inclusivism, pluralism maintains that there is one reality, and that all religions lay hold upon it. The various doctrines and practices of the world faiths are simply the same truth refracted in different ways. [9] 

As noted earlier Hick sees a commonality of experience in differing religious traditions. He notes the similarities of piety and even says if such were read to Christians without names and "doctrinal" content we would think them very much like our own experience as Christians who believe in the unique Jesus.

He writes of a conception of God as our higher power that is common to all. He says various religions are engaged in a similar quest, like people marching in the same direction in different valleys without being aware of others' existence. Each group moves along with its own songs, ideas, language and stories. [10]

Hick uses a familiar parable to illustrate this. Several blind men run their hands over different parts of the same elephant. The one who felt the elephant's leg said the elephant was a tree. The one who felt the elephant's trunk thought it was a snake, while the one who felt the tail said it was surely a rope. Each was describing what he perceived. So each religion describes what it perceives of God. Concludes Hick:

Every conception of the divine which has come out of a great revelatory religious experience and has been tested through a long tradition of worship, and has sustained human faith over centuries of time and in millions of lives, is likely to represent a genuine encounter with the divine reality. [11] 

Such radical pluralism goes well beyond the universalism of previous Christian thought. In Erickson's view it "puts God, not Christ, at the center. There then are many ways to the center." [12] When this is done all of theological reflection is distorted. It is much like leaning the ladder against the wrong wall. You may climb the wall, but find out that you were wrong before taking the first step. Such pluralism poses a significant threat to both doctrine and practice in the church. Evangelicals may feel quite safe, but this has infected them in several ways that alter how they do theology and how they preach the gospel.

The Effect of This Theology Upon Us

As long as we stress "our experience" of Christ over the truth of His objective uniqueness we run the continual risk of falling into traps set for us by pluralistic Christologies. Stressing moral transformation, as evangelicalism has and does, often leads to moralistic preaching. Moralistic preaching often grows best in environments that are not strongly anchored in good Christology.

Paul Knitter wishes to stress what he calls the relational uniqueness of Jesus. This is "uniqueness defined by its ability to relate to - that is, to include and be included by - other unique religions." [13] He argues that one's hermeneutic must interpret the text by really hearing the texture of the text, i.e., not just what it meant to original readers but what it now means in a shifting global environment of the late twentieth century. Theologian William Hordern refers to this kind of interpreter as a "transformer," not just a "translator." A translator wishes to get the original meaning across to his modern hearer while a transformer seeks to adjust his message in view of the contemporary cultural challenges. Knitter believes the early Christian community transformed the theocentric message of Jesus into a Christocentric message.

Evangelicals will surely reject these conclusions, if the term evangelical still has any meaning left at all, but can they avoid other traps inherent in this? Have we not, for some time, preached our experience of the unique Christ over the unique Christ who really is? And have we not done this, to a considerable extent, in preaching theology without the unique Christ at the center of all our preaching and teaching? We do this when we preach sermons on commandments without Christ as the Lawgiver and Lawkeeper. We do this when we teach people to pray without Christ as the Mediator. We do it as well when we urge our brethren to trust God without the God-man as the sole object of their faith.

I am concerned as well with evangelical methodology which is not Christocentric. I have in mind our continual desire to avoid the criticism. of "cultured despisers" (the term of liberals in the last century). When "church growth" says continually that we need to set our agenda based on what the outsider feels and perceives he needs, then are we not abandoning a definitive incarnational Christology in practice? Modern North American church leaders are more concerned for the counsel of George Barna, a marketing strategist, than for that of James I. Packer or Millard J. Erickson.

I find the profound insights of the late Karl Barth immensely helpful at this point. It was he who said Christology is the touchstone of all theology. He wrote in his small overview of theology, Dogmatics in Outline, "Tell me how it stands with your Christology, and I shall tell you who you are." [14]

The Uniqueness of Jesus Demonstrated

It is my intention, in conclusion, to briefly demonstrate several of the factors which plainly demonstrate the complete uniqueness of the person of Jesus of Nazareth. If He is indeed the Unique One, then with the Apostle Peter we can confess with simplicity and profundity: "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that You are the Holy One of God" (John 6:68).

Contrary to modern pluralistic Christologies which ultimately undermine the uniqueness of Jesus I believe we have some high Christology in the Synoptics as well as in John. With Thomas' profound exaltation in John 20:28 my confession of Jesus is: "My Lord, and my God!" But on what basis do I confess this? And is it intellectual suicide to make such a confession in our age?

The Teaching of Jesus Was Truly Unique 

Jesus went about preaching and teaching "the kingdom of God." What His hearers heard and understood seems to have been in a state of flux. People in His time expected a The Unique Christ and the Modern Challenge kingdom but not the one He came to bring. Jesus increasingly taught that the kingdom was coming with power. Men are able to recognize it because the demons are driven out (Luke 11:20). And it was not to be brought about by man, but by the power of God (Luke 12:32). Leon Morris writes:

The New Testament shows God breaking into this world of time and sense so that we see nothing less than the power of God Himself at work in the kingdom which is set up in the work accomplished by Jesus. [15]

The kingdom is God's, but it is also plainly said to be Jesus' kingdom as well (cf. Matt. 13:41; 16:28; 20:21; 25:34- 40). Men not related properly to Him are outside this Kingdom (Matt. 7:23; Mark 8:38). T.W. Manson notes, "In the mind of Jesus, to become a genuine disciple of His and to enter into the kingdom of God amounted to much the same thing." [16]

We tend to take all of this for granted, but in Jesus' day things were different. Writes Leon Morris, "When a truly original teacher did arise he had to resort to great ingenuity to fasten his teaching on to some illustrious predecessor to gain a hearing." Morris correctly sums up my reflections in this area by writing:

It is often said today that His teaching was not very original, and that almost all of it can be paralleled from the teachings of the Rabbis. This is true, but only within limits. If you search the immense field of Rabbinic literature you will find somewhere or other parallels sometimes more, sometimes less,exact to much of the teaching of Jesus. But it is an immense field, and the remark attributed to Julicher, "It is a pity they said so much else," is very much to the point. Well might Bousset say, "The Rabbis stammered, but Jesus spoke." There is none of the Rabbis who has anything like the range or the comprehension of the spirit of Jesus .... The Rabbis spoke from authority, Jesus spoke with authority. Those who heard Him "were astonished at His teaching, for He The Unique Christ and the Modern Challenge taught them as one that had authority, and not as the scribes." W. Manson reminds us that the word rendered "authority" in the Hellenistic world "implied supernatural power," and he cites the saying of Justin Martyr, "His word was power from God." "Thus says the Lord" is typical of the Old Testament, but Jesus' characteristic expression is "Truly, truly, I say to you." The difference is significant. Jesus appealed to no other authority as He spoke to men of the deep things of God. [18] 

The Personality of Jesus Was Unique 

Jesus was a gigantic figure! Nothing commonplace, or trite about His words and surely nothing bland and tepid about His person. The Jesus "meek and mild" of stereotypical conclusions is not seen in the Gospels. Meek He most certainly is, but not weak!

He inspired complete devotion among His followers, not simply personal interest. Further He attracted men and women of all types and personalities. The high and the lowly, the brilliant and the uneducated,all sought Him out. The observation of E.A. Knox is well worth considering:

... there has been no other instance, nor will there be another, of one whose personality, without effort, without self-assertion, without the barest suspicion of megalomania, it would seem almost without direct claim, left upon His immediate entourage the solemn conviction that they had been walking with God. [19] 

The Miracles of Jesus Show Him to Be Truly Unique 

If there is any reliable record to be found in the Gospels, then undoubtedly Jesus did things which we must put in the realm of the miraculous by any definition of the term. Many in our day are embarrassed by so many miracles, feeling that they somehow discredit Christianity in our scientific age. In earlier eras of church history apologists referenced arguments for Jesus' uniqueness to such events. Explanations offered several decades ago suggested that the miracles were more or less an amazing human activity carried out through incredible faith. Therefore Leonard Hodgson says, "Think of the powers exercised by Christ as being powers open to manhood where manhood is found in its perfection." [20]

Jesus did refuse to work "wonders" as a display of divine power in itself. Morris correctly says, "He does not appear on the pages of the Gospels as a wonder-worker." Surely Manson had it right, however, when he wrote, "[They] are a demonstration from. God that what prophets and righteous men had desired to see is at hand and already in process." [21]

Yes, surely we must not make too much of the miracles, at least in the wrong way. But we must not make too little of them either. Morris helpfully says, "The miracles point us to God" (i.e., they are "signs"). And further, "The people who saw them reacted as in the presence of God. They were amazed at the authority they revealed." [22]

It is hard to resist the conclusion that the One who performed such great acts was unique, because He was the God-man! He even performed such acts and claimed with them the "power to forgive sins" (Mark 2:10ff.).

The Sinlessness of Jesus Was Obviously Unique 

In John 8:46 our Lord asks a question of His enemies, a bold and daring approach all must agree. "Which of you convicts Me of sin?" None takes up His challenge. He is accused of blasphemy because of His claim to be equal with His Father (Yahweh), but no accusations of personal moral or spiritual failure are brought against Him.

Before one concludes that the early church simply painted Jesus through "rose-tinted glasses" he should be reminded that the church openly showed itself "warts and all" in telling its own story and that of all its human leaders. And these men lived with Him for the better part of three years, seeing Him under all kinds of stress and unimaginable pressure.

Moreover, adds Leon Morris, "... the Jesus of the Gospels does not conform to first-century specifications for a hero, either Jewish or Gentile." [23] Finding faults in great men and women of the past is not hard to do, even when we read the accounts of their best friends. But this man was different. He was truly unique!

Conclusion 

Chalcedon is not the last word on the uniqueness of Jesus. It is in need of fuller positive elaboration in our day. But it is still the proper place for us to begin our Christology lest we deny the essential elements of the New Testament affirmations regarding this unique person. With the Council we can say, by faith, without intellectual suicide, vere Deus and vere homo; yet in One Person!

The late Karl Barth plainly saw the critical nature of our question when he wrote, "If dogmatics cannot regard itself and cause itself to be regarded as fundamentally Christology, it has assuredly succumbed to some alien sway and is already on the verge of losing its character as church dogmatics." My own concern, in the face of the pluralistic challenges we have briefly surveyed, is that we will give up the centrality of the unique One who is the Lord from heaven! And this challenge comes not simply from the theological left that we have seen in this article, but more subtly from the evangelical right and its peace with the modern world in cultural efforts to recast the uniqueness of Jesus into more acceptable forms. When we remove the mystery of who He was from the realm of faith affirmations grounded in the revelation of His person in the New Testament, we move in a direction that will strip the church of its power with God and with man. Karl Barth warned of this when he said, "... the Council did not intend to solve the mystery of revelation, but rather it perceived and respected this mystery." [24] Do we?

End Notes 

1. Millard J. Erickson, The Word Became Flesh: A Contemporary Incarnational Christology (Grand Rapids: Baker), 1991, p. 11. 
2. Ibid., pp. 275-76. 
3. Ibid., p. 276. 
4. Ibid. 
5. Paul F. Knitter, No Other Name? (Maryknoll, NY: Orb is Books), 1985, p. 4. 
6. Eugene Hillman, cited in Erickson, p. 280. 
7. John Hick, God Has Many Names (Philadelphia: Westminster Press), 1982, p. 31. 
8. Erickson, op. cit., p. 284. 
9. Ibid., p. 285. 
10. Hick, Names, pp. 40-41 and 90-91. 
11. Ibid., p. 141. 
12. Erickson, op. cit., p. 291. 
13. The whole of my coverage of these pluralistic Christologies is taken from the survey given in Chapter 11 of Millard J. Erickson's The Word Became Flesh. The reader is urged to consult this book, and the chapter in particular, for a fuller treatment. 
14. Karl Barth, Dogmatics in Outline (London: SCM), 1949, p. 66. 
15. Leon Morris, The Lord From Heaven (Downers Grove, IL: InterVar~ity Press), 1974, p. 12. 
16. T.W. Manson, The Teaching of Jesus (Cambridge, England) 1943, p. 206, cited in Morris. 
17. Morris, op. cit., p. 13. 
18. Ibid., pp. 13-14. 
19. Ibid., p. 17. 
20. Ibid., p. 18. 
21. Ibid., p. 18. 
22. Ibid., p. 19. 
23. Ibid., p. 21. 
24. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, Volume 1:2 (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark), 1966, p. 123. 

Author 

John H. Armstrong is Director of Reformation & Revival Ministries and Editor of Reformation & Revival Journal. He was a pastor for 21 years before establishing Reformation & Revival Ministries in 1991, and becoming full-time director in 1992.

Made Like His Brothers

By Tom Wells

Ours has been a difficult century. Wars and rumors of wars have been rampant; earthquakes and other natural disasters have taken their toll worldwide. In addition, print and broadcast media have brought these things to our attention in ways once undreamed of.

The theological world has been shaken by wars and earthquakes of its own. Our century, for example, has seen the blossoming of modernism, a movement noted for its abandonment of the doctrine of the full deity of Jesus Christ. Much of fundamentalism and evangelicalism has been shaped by reaction to that denial. When the battle lines were drawn on this issue each side took the stance it thought to be most useful in defending Christian doctrine as it understood it. Conservatives are what they are, to some important degree, because the modernists advertised their faith in the humanity of Jesus Christ at the expense of His deity.

But there is an odd fact about that battle: through much of church history it would have seemed necessary to side with the modernists (had they been around) in asserting that Jesus Christ is fully and truly man. It may be that the humanity of Jesus Christ has come under attack even more often than His deity.

At the end of the first century Christians confronted an error called Docetism. The word comes from a Greek verb meaning "to seem" or "to appear." The Docetists contended that Christ seemed to be a man, He appeared human, but His humanity was just that: an appearance. They said this because they thought that human flesh, along with all other matter, was evil. In their own mistaken way they hoped to preserve the purity of Christ by denying that His flesh was real. Such a notion, however, would have been fatal to true Christianity if it had carried the day.

It seems likely that John addressed this problem in his first Epistle. He wrote of false prophets:

This is how you can recognize the Spirit of God: Every spirit that acknowledges that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God, but every spirit that does not acknowledge Jesus is not from God. This is the spirit of antichrist ... (1 John 4:2-3b). 

And again in his second Epistle he wrote: "Many deceivers, who do not acknowledge Jesus Christ as coming in the flesh, have gone out into the world. Any such person is the deceiver and the antichrist" (2 John 7). These harsh words show how strongly the Spirit of God, speaking through John, felt about Docetism. To deny that Jesus Christ was fully human was the work of antichrist and not of God. We may note in passing that Mary Baker Eddy's Christian Science, by denying the reality of matter, falls under the condemnation of Scripture at this point.

The fourth and fifth centuries saw the development of Monophysitism (one-naturism), a serious attempt to do justice to the deity of Christ, that endangered the doctrine of His full humanity. The Monophysites did not deny that Jesus' flesh was real, but their doctrine of only one nature in Christ threatened His true humanity. If our Lord had only the nature of God or a composite nature that was a mixture of humanity and divinity, how could He be truly human? To their opponents the Monophysites made Christ appear to be God dressed up in human flesh merely to look like a man.

Docetism and Monophysitism were fairly straightforward attacks on Christ's humanity. Later centuries added others that were more subtle. In the thirteenth century the Roman Catholic Church adopted the view that the human body of the Lord Jesus replaced the bread and wine of the communion service. To the eye and to the tongue of the worshiper bread and wine seemed to be present, but in fact his senses deceived him. What he was eating and drinking were the literal flesh and blood of Jesus. What's wrong with this? It demands a question: are we dealing here with a real and true human body if it can be everywhere in the world at once? To many the answer seems to be, No. Yet at the Reformation Martin Luther adopted an understanding of the Lord's table that demanded the same quality of ubiquity, i.e., the ability of Christ's body to be everywhere at once. A natural retort to this criticism might be: "The body of the risen Jesus passed through doors that were not open, yet we don't deny the reality of His human flesh on that account. Why then question the ability of His flesh to be everywhere at once?" Still, uneasiness remains, in part because one can imagine our own glorified bodies with unusual properties, but not with the quality of being everywhere at once.

More serious yet was the doctrine of some of the Anabaptists. They said and wrote that Christ's flesh was heavenly flesh. They meant by this that nothing of Mary's humanity was passed on to her son. Jesus' humanity, like His deity, came to Him from heaven. In their view Mary acted only as the container in which the Lord Jesus spent the first nine months of His existence. She contributed nothing of herself to His human life. Critics of this view, however, have seen that a humanity that has nothing in common with Mary (and hence with Adam) is not true humanity at all.

Yet Jesus Christ was and is truly man, and the Scriptures make this point in many ways.

The earliest prophecy of the coming of Christ speaks of Him as the offspring of Eve, the first mother of humanity. As part of the curse on the serpent God says: "And I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers; He will crush your head, and you will strike His heel" (Gen. 3:15). Nothing in this prophecy suggests Christ's deity. Clearly the offspring of the woman would be a man. More than that, the fact that the serpent or Satan would "strike His heel" shows His vulnerability, a prominent human trait. It is not of God but of man that Job says, "Man born of woman is of few days and full of trouble" (Job 14:1). The "striking" of the Messiah's heel would prove to be trouble of the severest kind.

Later prophecies, of course, asserted or suggested that the Messiah or Christ would be God. But even these mentioned His humanity. Look at Isaiah 9:6: "For to us a child is born, to us a Son is given, and the government will be on His shoulders. And He will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace." The one who will come as Mighty God and Everlasting Father will be born as a human babe, a son of man. We find the same thing in Micah 5:2: "But you, Bethlehem Ephratha, though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for Me one who will be ruler over Israel, whose origins are from old, from ancient times." The reference to Christ's origins - "from old, from ancient times," or as the margin reads, "from days of eternity" - is probably an indication of His deity. But it does not stand alone. Here also is the place of His birth as a king from the line of David, as a human child.

When we turn to the New Testament we find the same interest in the true humanity of our Lord. The birth narratives in Matthew and Luke speak for themselves. Not only does the actual birth bear witness to the humanity of our Savior, but the announcement of the angel speaks of "a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger" (Luke 2:14). A baby! - a baby that grows up (Luke 2:40,52) and as a man hungers (Luke 4:2) and thirsts (John 4:7) and grows weary (John 4:6) and feels agony (Matt. 26:38-39) and dies (John 19:31).

The reality of Christ's humanity pervades the Bible. Behold the man! But what does it all mean? Where does its importance lie? On the most obvious level we may answer, "It proves that God is true, that what He prophesies will come to pass. The promised man-above-all-men has come, "born of a woman" (Gal. 4:4), as God had said. Surely this is no small thing. But the main interest in the manhood of our Lord Jesus lies elsewhere. Why was He prophesied to come? And especially, - why as a man?

The Bible leaves us in no doubt about the answer to these questions. No one less than the God-man could make sinful men right with a holy God. To do this, God became man. Or in the words of John 1:14, "The Word became flesh." Flesh here means more than the meat on our bones. It speaks of true humanity as in Joel's words, "I will pour out My Spirit on all people [flesh]" (quoted in Acts 2:17). Our salvation depended on Jesus Christ being man.

The writer of Hebrews makes this point in Hebrews 2:5ff. Let's look at that: passage in manageable bits.

It is not to angels that [God] has subjected the world to come, about which we are speaking. But there is a place where someone has testified: "What is man that You are mindful of him, the son of man that You care for him? You made Him a little lower than the angels; You crowned Him with glory and honor and put everything under His feet. In putting everything under Him, God left nothing that is not subject to Him. Yet at present we do not see everything subject to Him (vv. 5-8)."

Notice two things here. First, man was promised dominion over the earth at the creation. Nothing was outside his control. Second, we cannot see man's control over all of nature. That is not because his control is invisible, but because it does not exist! The promise of God seems to have failed. What's happening here?

The writer of Hebrews goes onto answer the problem that his quotation raises:

But we see Jesus, who was made a little lower than the angels; now crowned with glory and honor because He suffered death, so that by the grace of God He might taste death for everyone. In bringing many sons to glory, it was fitting that God, for whom and through whom everything exists, should make the author of their salvation perfect through suffering (2:9-10). 

The promise of God has not failed. Mankind does have control over all things in the person of Jesus Christ. All men are not yet crowned with honor and glory, but the representative man is. As He Himself said: "All authority in heaven and earth has been given to Me" (Matt. 28:18). The present rule of Christ is the down-payment on the promise of an earth ruled by a new nation of men and women, the new nation known as the church. When that promise is fulfilled salvation will have come in its fullest sense. For us to be saved Jesus Christ had to be truly man.

Yet there is more. We see it when we ask the question, "Why was Jesus crowned with glory and honor?" The answer is: "... because He suffered death, so that by the grace of God He might taste death for everyone." He was crowned because He died.

Let's explore this further. The promise made to man to rule over the earth was postponed due to man's fall into sin. For the promise to be fulfilled, man would have to be restored to holiness. How could that be done? By the death of a substitute. The principle of substitution is pictured all through the sacrificial system of the Old Testament. But only pictured! No animal was an adequate substitute for sinful man. As the writer of Hebrews says elsewhere, "... it is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins" (10:4). The only adequate substitute was a spotless human being. Since God was determined to bring "many sons to glory," He substituted the death of Jesus Christ in the place of each of those "sons" (and "daughters"). God cannot die, but the Son of God, who became a man, both could and did.

And there is still more. Men often act with complex motives and several ends in view - how much more, God! Not only did God send His son to die for sinners, He also sent Him to form a family, a family of brothers.

Both the one who makes men holy and those who are made holy are of the same family. So Jesus is not ashamed to call them brothers. He says, "I will declare Your name to My brothers; in the presence of the congregation I will sing Your praises." And again, "I will put My trust in Him." And again He says, "Here am I, and the children God has given Me." Since the children have flesh and blood, He too shared in their humanity so that by His death He might destroy him who holds the power of death - that is, the devil - and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death. For surely it is not angels He helps, but Abraham's descendants (2:11-16).

The writer takes great pains to make his point. The Lord Jesus has formed a family of fellow humans. He calls them "brothers" (vv. 11-12). By trusting in God He takes His place beside them as a fellow man (v. 13). He "shares" their humanity in dying to free Abraham's descendants, literal or spiritual (vv. 14-16).

Nor is all this merely formal. Not at all! The chapter closes by showing that in His death, and beyond, His acts are the acts of one who feels what His brothers and sisters feel.

For this reason He had to be made like His brothers in every way in order that He might become a merciful and faithful high priest in service to God, and that He might make atonement for the people. Because He Himself suffered when He was tempted, He is able to help those who are being tempted (2:17-18). 

Family membership involves family feeling. The sins and sufferings of His brothers and sisters in temptation call forth His mercy. They need and receive the help of one who has been tempted. You receive that help, if you believe in Him. In Hebrews four persevering faith in Christ as God and man has this promise:

Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has gone through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are - yet was without sin. Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need (4:14-16). 

The writer's point is clear: both for the forgiveness of our sins and for our comfort we are indebted to the humanity of Jesus Christ. But finally, I think I hear someone saying to me, "Don't you know that you are preaching to the converted? We all believe in the true humanity of our Lord Jesus!"

Maybe - but I wonder. At the beginning of this article I mentioned the battle with modernism over the deity of Christ. I made the point that that battle has in some degree made us conservatives what we are. After all, we are not immune to the influences around us, secular or sacred. I wonder if the constant reiteration of the deity of our Lord has not affected us. Are we really free from the problem of the Monophysites? Do none of us think of Christ as God dressed up like a man? And do we really believe that He remains a man today and forever?

The New Testament makes it clear that the humanity of Christ is a doctrine to be believed, among other reasons, for our present comfort. Certainly it is important that we hold tenaciously to the fact that Christ is God. In the midst of a world apparently disintegrating into chaos His control would be no more than a name if He were not God.

But the Scriptures offer us more, and we are unwise if we do not take hold of it. There is a man in heaven who knows our needs. He knows them both as God and man. As God He knows whether they are genuine needs or mere passing lusts. As man He knows our agony and shame and sorrow. Our paramount need, according to Scripture, is just such a man. And we have Him.

In closing, let me add one word of caution. If you are convinced of the full and true humanity of the Lord Jesus, it is still important how you think of Him.

Do you think of Him as a babe in a manger? Many do. If you join them you will have cut Him off in infancy as Herod hoped to do when he slaughtered the infants in and around Bethlehem (Matt. 2:7-18). Of what help is such a Christ to sinners like you and me?

Do you think of Him as the crucifix depicts Him, hanging on a cross? That is better, of course, than resigning Him to perpetual babyhood. If you never visit Christ dying "outside the city gate" (Heb. 13:12) your vision of Him is deeply defective - perilously so.

If that, however, is your only vision of Jesus Christ, you may see Him as needing help Himself and sending you elsewhere - to ancient or modern substitutes. How many have looked on a dying Christ and turned to His blessed Mother for help? Too many, I fear! How many have celebrated His death and turned to psychology and psychiatry for daily strength? I do not know - but I have my suspicions.

The humanity of Jesus Christ is a central doctrine of the Christian faith. It does not stand alone. It cannot be set in opposition to the reality of His deity. It needs, however, its full recognition. Without it there is no atonement; without it no present help in our time of need. We neglect it at our peril, but we celebrate it as glorious in itself and as leading us to glory and honor forever.

Author 

Tom Wells is pastor of King's Chapel, West Chester, OH. He is author of several books including the recently published: God is King (1992), A Price for a People (1992), and Come Home...Forever (1992). He is a regular contributor to Reformation & Revival Journal.