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On Old Testament Conceptual Metaphors and the Christology of Luke’s Gospel: A Book Review
Lanier, Gregory R. Old Testament Conceptual Metaphors and the Christology of Luke’s Gospel. Library of New Testament Studies. London: T&T Clark, 2018.
The Christology of the canonical Gospels is remarkably multifaceted. From titles such as Son of God, Son of Man, Lord, and Christ, to John’s “I AM” statements, to the numerous Old Testament images and metaphors applied to Jesus, the Gospel writers employ a variety of categories to describe the complexity of Jesus’s person and work. No single title or image exhausts their Christological portrait; rather, it is through the convergence of these various titles, images, actions, and scriptural patterns that we begin to appreciate the fullness of their presentation of Christ. This is particularly important for the Gospel of Luke. While some have characterized Luke’s Christology as comparatively “low,” such a description can easily undersell the intricate ways in which Luke presents the identity and mission of Jesus. In his published dissertation, Old Testament Conceptual Metaphors and the Christology of Luke’s Gospel, Gregory R. Lanier takes up the question of Luke’s Christology by examining four characteristic metaphors that are distinctive to Luke’s Gospel. The result is a masterpiece of literary and exegetical analysis that demonstrates how deeply Luke’s presentation of Jesus is shaped by Old Testament patterns of thought. By tracing these metaphors through their Old Testament backgrounds and their distinctive deployment within Luke’s narrative, Lanier demonstrates that Luke’s Christology is considerably richer and more sophisticated than attention to explicit Christological titles alone might suggest.
Using the tools of conceptual metaphor theory (CMT), Lanier takes up four metaphors from the Gospel of Luke whose precise scriptural backgrounds and Christological significance have been variously interpreted. These four metaphors include the “horn of salvation” (Luke 1.68–69), the “dawn from on high” (Luke 1.78–79), the bird that gathers her chicks under her wings (Luke 13.34), and the “stone the builders rejected” (Luke 20.17–18). While scholars generally agree that these images draw upon the Old Testament and the interpretive world of Second Temple Judaism, there is considerably less agreement concerning which particular Scripture or Scriptures stand behind them and how those backgrounds illuminate Luke’s use of the images. Using CMT, Lanier approaches each image not simply as an allusion to a single Old Testament passage but as a conceptual metaphor drawing upon a wider network of Old Testament texts and images to map out the contours of Jesus’s person and work. Most significantly, Lanier argues that these metaphors draw upon imagery used in the Old Testament to describe the identity and activity of God, which Luke then reapplies to Jesus. The result contributes to a kind of “divine identity Christology” in which Jesus is portrayed as doing the kinds of things that Israel’s God does. Of course, these four metaphors do not exhaust Luke’s Christological perspective. Luke’s Christology is multilayered and must be constructed from the convergence of numerous titles, images, actions, and narrative patterns. Nevertheless, Lanier’s analysis demonstrates why the simple dichotomy between “high” and “low” Christology is inadequate for describing the complexity of Luke’s presentation of Jesus.
One of the greatest strengths of Lanier’s study is the explanatory power that conceptual metaphor theory brings to Luke’s use of Old Testament imagery. Studies of the New Testament’s use of the Old Testament often focus on identifying a particular source text behind a quotation or allusion. While this approach is useful when the textual relationship is relatively clear, it can prove more difficult when dealing with images that appear across a wide range of Old Testament texts. Lanier’s use of CMT provides a compelling way forward by allowing these metaphors to draw upon a broader network of scriptural associations rather than requiring them to depend upon a single identifiable source text. Thus, an image such as the “horn of salvation,” the dawning of light, the protection of a bird’s wings, or the rejected stone can evoke a constellation of Old Testament texts in which the same conceptual associations repeatedly occur. Importantly, this approach does not amount simply to collecting possible verbal parallels. Lanier demonstrates how recurring patterns of language and imagery establish conceptual relationships that would have shaped the meaning of these metaphors within the scriptural world inherited by Luke. This allows him to account for the richness of Luke’s imagery without reducing it to dependence upon any one passage. Lanier’s use of CMT therefore does more than identify additional Old Testament backgrounds for Luke’s language; it provides a compelling account of how a network of scriptural imagery can contribute cumulatively to Luke’s presentation of Jesus.
A second major strength of Lanier’s study is the Christological payoff that emerges from his analysis of these metaphors. Discussions of Luke’s Christology have often focused primarily on explicit Christological titles such as “Son of God,” “Son of Man,” “Lord,” and “Christ.” While these titles are undoubtedly important, Lanier demonstrates that Luke’s presentation of Jesus cannot be adequately reconstructed from titles alone. The conceptual metaphors examined in this study provide another important avenue through which Luke communicates Jesus’s identity and mission. Particularly significant is Lanier’s demonstration that each of these metaphors participates in patterns of Old Testament imagery associated with the identity and activity of YHWH. The significance of Luke’s application of these images to Jesus is therefore greater than the metaphors might initially suggest. Jesus does not merely perform actions analogous to those of other divinely appointed figures; he is portrayed through images that describe the saving, protecting, judging, and vindicating activity of Israel’s God. Lanier thus demonstrates how a robust Christology can emerge through the cumulative effect of Luke’s scriptural imagery without depending exclusively upon explicit statements concerning Jesus’s identity. This is one reason the traditional distinction between “high” and “low” Christology can prove inadequate for describing Luke’s Gospel. Lanier’s study shows that some of Luke’s most significant Christological claims are embedded within the scriptural images through which he narrates the identity and mission of Jesus.
The principal limitation of Lanier’s approach arises, somewhat ironically, from the same methodological breadth that makes his analysis so illuminating. By moving beyond the search for a single source text, CMT allows Lanier to account for the wider network of scriptural associations that may inform Luke’s metaphors. Yet this breadth also raises the question of how the interpreter determines the boundaries of that network. If a metaphor can draw upon a constellation of Old Testament texts without requiring a direct verbal correspondence with any one passage, it can become difficult to distinguish between conceptual associations that Luke plausibly intends to evoke and associations that are present within the broader scriptural tradition but may not contribute directly to the meaning of the Lukan text. Consequently, some of Lanier’s proposed connections are necessarily more persuasive than others, particularly where the linguistic or contextual relationship between Luke and the proposed Old Testament background is less explicit. This does not undermine the usefulness of CMT or the cumulative force of Lanier’s argument. Indeed, the recurrence of similar patterns across the four metaphors provides considerable support for his broader Christological conclusions. Nevertheless, the method places a significant burden upon the interpreter to demonstrate why particular texts and conceptual associations should be included within the relevant metaphorical network. Lanier’s study therefore demonstrates both the promise of CMT for the study of Luke’s use of Scripture and the need for careful exegetical controls when reconstructing the scriptural world that informs Luke’s Christological imagery.
In the final analysis, Old Testament Conceptual Metaphors and the Christology of Luke’s Gospel is an outstanding contribution to the study of Luke’s Christology and his use of the Old Testament. Lanier demonstrates both the explanatory value of conceptual metaphor theory and the importance of attending to forms of scriptural influence that extend beyond explicit quotations, direct allusions, and traditional Christological titles. His analysis of the “horn of salvation,” the “dawn from on high,” the gathering bird, and the rejected stone reveals how seemingly familiar images can carry a remarkable amount of Christological significance when situated within the broader conceptual world of Israel’s Scriptures. Although the breadth of CMT raises important questions concerning the boundaries and controls of these scriptural networks, Lanier applies the method with considerable exegetical care and produces a cumulative argument that is difficult to dismiss. More importantly, his study reminds us that Luke’s Christology cannot be adequately described simply by cataloguing the titles applied to Jesus or locating the Gospel somewhere along a spectrum from “low” to “high” Christology. Luke’s presentation of Jesus emerges from the convergence of titles, actions, narrative patterns, and deeply embedded scriptural images. Lanier has provided a compelling account of one important dimension of that portrait, and his study deserves serious attention from anyone interested in Luke’s Christology, Luke’s use of Scripture, or the relationship between the Old and New Testaments.
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On Luke and Scripture: A Book Review
Evans, Craig A., and James A. Sanders. Luke and Scripture: The Function of Sacred Tradition in Luke-Acts. Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2001.
According to the Commentary on the New Testament Use of the Old Testament, although Luke only quotes the Old Testament some twenty-five times throughout his Gospel, he alludes to it possibly as many as 439 times. Thus, any perception that Luke is relatively uninterested in the Old Testament is largely mistaken. Luke makes extensive use of the Old Testament in his portrayal of Jesus and the fulfillment of Israel’s hopes and expectations. In Luke and Scripture: The Function of Sacred Tradition in Luke-Acts, Craig A. Evans and James A. Sanders take up Luke’s use of the Old Testament in a collection of essays that attempt to shed light on the topic through the method of comparative midrash. First published in 1993, the book has become a standard part of the discussion, and deservedly so. Luke and Scripture offers a valuable collection of studies demonstrating the pervasive importance of Israel’s sacred traditions for understanding Luke–Acts. At the same time, the diversity of the essays means that the volume is more successful in demonstrating the extent of Luke’s engagement with Scripture than in offering a unified account of how Scripture functions within Luke’s narrative.
The essays cover a wide range of topics, from Luke’s use of Isaiah, to the function of the Elijah/Elisha narratives, to the ethics of election in Luke’s great banquet parable, to the use of Psalm 118 in Luke’s entry narrative, to the portrayal of the Jews in Luke’s scriptural apologetic. The essays are nevertheless united by their general use of the method of comparative midrash, which simply means comparing Luke’s usage with contemporary uses of the same Scripture in Jewish literature. The underlying assumption of this approach is that Luke’s use of Scripture did not take place in isolation. The same texts and traditions upon which Luke draws were being interpreted and reapplied within the broader Jewish world, and these contemporary interpretations can therefore provide an important context for understanding Luke’s own hermeneutical activity. By comparing Luke’s use of a particular passage or tradition with its interpretation elsewhere in Jewish literature, Evans and Sanders attempt to identify both the interpretive conventions Luke shares with his contemporaries and the distinctive ways in which he adapts Israel’s Scriptures to the story of Jesus and the early church. Comparative midrash thus provides the methodological thread connecting what might otherwise appear to be a rather diverse collection of essays. Despite the variety of texts and questions addressed, comparative midrash thus provides a common methodological framework for the volume as a whole.
The value of this comparative approach becomes apparent in the exegetical insights it produces throughout the volume. Rather than simply identifying Old Testament quotations and allusions, the contributors frequently demonstrate how attention to the wider interpretive traditions surrounding a particular text can illuminate Luke’s own use of it. This is especially important because Luke often draws upon Scripture in ways that extend beyond explicit citation. Scriptural characters, narratives, themes, and expectations provide patterns through which Luke interprets Jesus and the events of the early church. Reading these passages alongside their interpretation elsewhere in early Judaism therefore helps recover dimensions of Luke’s scriptural world that might otherwise be overlooked. At its best, comparative midrash allows the reader to see not merely that Luke has used a particular passage, but why that passage could carry the theological significance that Luke assigns to it. The method consequently provides an important safeguard against treating Luke’s use of Scripture as a collection of isolated Christian proof texts disconnected from their larger Jewish interpretive context. Luke’s reading is unmistakably Christian and Christological, but the essays repeatedly demonstrate that it remains deeply rooted in Israel’s Scriptures and the interpretive traditions that had developed around them.
A second strength of Luke and Scripture is the sheer breadth of Luke’s engagement with Scripture that emerges from the essays taken together. The volume demonstrates that the Old Testament does far more in Luke–Acts than provide a collection of individual proof texts or explicit predictions that find their fulfillment in Jesus. Israel’s Scriptures supply characters, narratives, themes, patterns, and expectations that repeatedly shape the way Luke tells his story. This breadth is reflected in the diversity of the essays themselves. Isaiah, the Elijah and Elisha narratives, the Psalms, Israel’s election, and other scriptural traditions are all shown to contribute in various ways to Luke’s presentation of Jesus and the early church. For example, Evans’s essay “Prophecy and Polemic: Jews in Luke’s Scriptural Apologetic” is particularly compelling in the way it challenges the conclusion that Luke is anti-Semitic in his portrayal of the Jews. Evans argues that Luke’s polemic against Jewish unbelief should be understood within the scriptural and prophetic patterns through which Luke interprets both Jesus’s rejection and the opposition encountered by the early church. The point is that the cumulative effect of the essays is significant. Even where one might disagree with an individual interpretation, the volume makes it increasingly difficult to read Luke–Acts without recognizing how thoroughly Luke’s narrative has been shaped by Israel’s Scriptures. Taken together, the essays demonstrate that the Old Testament does not merely provide occasional support for Luke’s theology; Israel’s Scriptures supply much of the conceptual and narrative world within which Luke tells the story of Jesus and the early church.
Nevertheless, the diversity that gives Luke and Scripture much of its value also contributes to one of its principal weaknesses. Although the individual essays provide numerous illuminating examples of Luke’s engagement with Israel’s Scriptures, the volume does not always bring these individual studies together into a unified account of how Scripture functions within Luke–Acts as a whole. This is particularly noticeable given the book’s subtitle, The Function of Sacred Tradition in Luke-Acts. The essays demonstrate a variety of ways in which Luke draws upon Scripture, but the reader is often left to determine how these individual examples relate to one another and what they reveal collectively about Luke’s larger scriptural hermeneutic. Of course, some degree of diversity is unavoidable in a collection of essays addressing different texts and questions, and that diversity contributes to the breadth that makes the volume so useful. Nevertheless, a concluding chapter drawing together the results of the individual studies and articulating more explicitly what they reveal about the larger function of Scripture within Luke–Acts would have strengthened the volume considerably. As it stands, Luke and Scripture is more successful in demonstrating the pervasive extent of Luke’s engagement with Scripture than in providing a comprehensive account of how that engagement functions across his two-volume narrative.
A second limitation concerns the method of comparative midrash itself. As noted above, comparison with contemporary Jewish interpretations can provide invaluable context for understanding Luke’s use of Scripture. Nevertheless, identifying parallels between Luke and other Jewish interpreters does not by itself explain how a particular scriptural text or tradition functions within Luke’s own narrative. At times, the volume’s emphasis upon comparative material can therefore leave questions of literary and theological function somewhat underdeveloped. Luke is not merely preserving individual interpretations of Israel’s Scriptures but incorporating them into a carefully constructed narrative in which scriptural themes and expectations develop across Luke–Acts. Consequently, understanding Luke’s use of Scripture requires attention not only to how a particular text was interpreted within early Judaism but also to where Luke places that text, how it relates to other scriptural traditions within his narrative, and what role it plays in the larger theological argument of Luke–Acts. This does not diminish the value of comparative midrash; rather, it highlights the limits of what the method can accomplish on its own. Comparative midrash is therefore most illuminating when it provides the historical and interpretive context for Luke’s use of Scripture while remaining attentive to the distinctive narrative and theological purposes for which Luke employs it.
Despite these limitations, Luke and Scripture remains a valuable contribution to the study of Luke–Acts and its use of the Old Testament. The individual essays vary in their subjects and conclusions, but together they make a compelling case that Israel’s Scriptures and the interpretive traditions surrounding them are indispensable for understanding Luke’s narrative and theology. The volume is particularly valuable for students and scholars interested in Luke–Acts, the New Testament use of the Old Testament, and the relationship between early Christianity and Jewish scriptural interpretation. More than thirty years after its original publication, some aspects of the discussion have naturally been supplemented by subsequent scholarship, but the volume continues to provide important exegetical insights and a useful methodological reminder: Luke must be read within the scriptural world from which his Gospel and Acts emerged. Luke and Scripture may not provide a comprehensive or fully unified account of the function of sacred tradition in Luke–Acts, but it convincingly demonstrates that such a function cannot be treated as peripheral. Israel’s Scriptures belong near the center of any attempt to understand Luke’s presentation of Jesus, the early church, and the fulfillment of God’s purposes.
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On Acts and the Isaianic New Exodus: A Book Review
Pao, David W. Acts and the Isaianic New Exodus. Reprint Edition. Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2016.
Among the books of the New Testament, the book of Acts is arguably one of the most unique. Whereas the Gospels focus primarily on the life and ministry of Jesus and the Epistles provide theological instruction and practical guidance for the Christian life, Acts records the expansion of the early church and the missionary ministry of the Apostle Paul. Consequently, the theological message of Acts is sometimes overshadowed by its historical narrative. Yet beneath its historical narrative lies a rich and carefully constructed theological message, one that is especially evident in Luke’s extensive use of the Old Testament. In Acts and the Isaianic New Exodus, David W. Pao explores this important dimension of Acts by arguing that Luke deliberately presents the mission of Jesus and the early church against the backdrop of Isaiah’s vision of the New Exodus. Originally published as Pao’s doctoral dissertation by Mohr Siebeck in 2000, the work remains one of the most significant studies of Isaiah’s influence on Acts. Therefore, it is the thesis of this review that Acts and the Isaianic New Exodus makes a compelling case for the centrality of Isaiah’s New Exodus motif in Luke’s theology, even if certain aspects of Pao’s argument invite further discussion.
In the book of Isaiah, the “New Exodus” is a way of describing God’s future work of redemption by drawing upon the imagery and language of Israel’s original exodus from Egypt. Just as God once delivered his people from slavery under Pharaoh, so Isaiah portrays God as bringing about a second and greater act of deliverance through the restoration from Babylonian exile. The first exodus thus becomes the typological pattern for God’s future saving work. It is Pao’s central thesis that this Isaianic vision of restoration provides the foundational theological framework for Luke’s understanding of the growth and mission of the early church in the book of Acts. After demonstrating the significance of Isaiah 40:1–11 for Luke’s two-volume work and showing how key Isaianic texts frame the narrative of Acts, Pao identifies four major themes that reveal the influence of the New Exodus motif: the identity of the true people of God as restored Israel, the Word of God as the primary agent of God’s redemptive work, the anti-idolatry polemic as a demonstration of God’s universal sovereignty, and the expansion of Isaiah’s vision to include the salvation of the Gentiles alongside believing Israel. In other words, Pao argues that Luke presents the church not as a departure from Israel’s story but as the fulfillment of Isaiah’s restoration promises, with the mission of the apostles representing the continuation of God’s New Exodus restoration through the risen and exalted Messiah.
The greatest strength of Pao’s work lies in its careful and convincing demonstration that Isaiah provides the conceptual framework through which Luke understands the theological message of Acts. Rather than merely identifying quotations and allusions to Isaiah scattered throughout the narrative, Pao argues that Luke has intentionally structured his theology around Isaiah’s vision of the New Exodus. This approach gives remarkable coherence to the book of Acts by showing that themes such as restoration, mission, the Word of God, the inclusion of the Gentiles, and the identity of the people of God are not isolated theological concerns but interconnected aspects of a single redemptive program. Closely related to this is Pao’s rigorous intertextual methodology. His argument rests not upon superficial verbal parallels but upon sustained literary and theological analysis that demonstrates how Luke appropriates and develops Isaiah’s message. As a result, even readers who remain unconvinced by every aspect of his thesis will gain a much deeper appreciation for the pervasive influence of Isaiah upon Luke’s writing. Particularly valuable is Pao’s treatment of restoration theology. He persuasively demonstrates that the mission of the church should not be understood as a departure from Israel’s story but as the fulfillment of God’s promises to restore his covenant people, promises that now embrace believing Jews and Gentiles alike through the risen Messiah. Finally, Pao’s work serves as an excellent model of canonical interpretation. Rather than reading Acts in isolation, he consistently interprets Luke’s narrative within the larger context of Scripture, thereby illustrating the profound unity of God’s redemptive plan. Whether or not one accepts every detail of Pao’s argument, his study permanently enriches the way one reads the book of Acts and its theological message.
Pao’s work is remarkably persuasive in establishing the significance of Isaiah for the theology of Acts. At the same time, the breadth of his argument gives rise to several questions that invite further discussion. Ironically, one of the book’s greatest strengths—its comprehensive argument for the centrality of Isaiah’s New Exodus—also becomes its primary limitation. At times, Pao’s thesis is so comprehensive that other significant Old Testament trajectories receive comparatively little attention. While Isaiah undoubtedly provides one of the principal theological frameworks for Luke’s theology, greater attention to Luke’s Christology and to the complementary influence of other Old Testament traditions—particularly Daniel’s vision of the Son of Man and the kingdom of God—would have presented an even fuller picture of Luke’s theological vision. Closely related to this is the fact that some of Pao’s proposed intertextual connections are more persuasive than others. In several instances, he moves rather quickly from thematic similarity to literary dependence, leaving readers wishing for a more sustained defense of particular allusions. Finally, because the volume originated as a doctoral dissertation, portions of the discussion are necessarily technical and assume a significant degree of familiarity with contemporary scholarship on Luke-Acts and intertextuality. Nevertheless, these observations should be understood as limitations of emphasis rather than substantive weaknesses. They do little to diminish the enduring value of Pao’s work or its significant contribution to the study of Acts and biblical theology.
Even after more than two decades, Acts and the Isaianic New Exodus continues to stand as one of the most significant contributions to the study of Luke-Acts and biblical theology. Pao convincingly demonstrates that the book of Acts should be read as far more than a historical record of the early church’s expansion; it is a carefully crafted theological narrative that presents the mission of Jesus and his apostles as the fulfillment of Isaiah’s vision of restoration and New Exodus. Although readers may differ with certain aspects of Pao’s thesis or wish that other Old Testament themes received greater attention, these observations do little to diminish the overall value of his work. Indeed, the greatest achievement of this volume is its ability to teach readers to read Acts canonically, recognizing that Luke’s theology is deeply rooted in the Scriptures of Israel and unfolds as the continuation of God’s covenant purposes for his people. For this reason, I would highly recommend this book to pastors, seminary students, scholars, thoughtful Christians who desire a deeper appreciation of the theological richness of Acts. Even readers who ultimately qualify portions of Pao’s argument will find themselves returning to the book of Acts with fresh eyes and a renewed awareness of the profound influence of Isaiah upon Luke’s presentation of the gospel and the mission of the church.
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On the Beauty of the Fourfold Gospel Witness
It is truly a manifestation of the grace of God that there are four accounts of the life of Jesus in the New Testament. They are rightly called theological history, because each one of them details the life of Jesus in a way that emphasizes and highlights particular aspects of who He is and what He has done for His people. While any one of them may have been sufficient on their own to convey the pertinent historical facts of His life, the four of them together paint a beautiful multilayered tapestry that has sparked the reflection and devotion of His followers now for two millennia. In the space that follows, I will sketch out the contours of that tapestry by discussing the particular emphases of each Gospel.
According to the documentary hypothesis, Mark wrote his gospel first based on the memoirs of the Apostle Peter. The vast majority of Mark’s gospel is reproduced in both Matthew and Luke, but this does not mean that Mark’s Gospel is incomplete, redundant, or lacking in historical and theological value. This value is seen clearly in the very first verse of his work, “The beginning of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” Functioning somewhat like a title or purpose statement, this verse is packed with theological significance. It tells us that Mark’s work is a “gospel”, a word that means good news; it also states clearly that this good news has to do with Jesus, the messianic Son of God. That this is the primary way that Mark wants his audience to see Jesus is confirmed following His death, when a Roman Centurion says, “Truly, this man was the Son of God.”
However, what makes Mark’s gospel so compelling is that this truth is hidden throughout most of the Gospel. The so-called messianic secret, in which Jesus repeatedly instructs people not to make His identity known, stands in stark contrast to the bold affirmations at the beginning and end of Mark’s Gospel. This is probably because Mark wants his readers to understand that the messianic identity of Jesus is defined by His death on the cross for sin. Almost half of Mark’s gospel is dedicated to the events of Passion week. Whereas the first ten chapters are quickly paced and action oriented, the final six slow down to something like a snail’s pace in detailing the events of the final seven days of Jesus’ life. This is why many have considered Mark’s gospel to be an apology or a defense of the cross that was likely written for Christians in Rome shortly before the persecutions of Nero.
Of course, though chronologically prior, the Gospel of Mark is not ordered first in the New Testament canon; that pride of place belongs to the Gospel of Matthew, and it is easy to understand why. Not only does Matthew’s Gospel begin with a genealogy that traces the lineage of Jesus through David to Abraham, it also includes an infancy narrative that captivates those who read it. However, this is part of Matthew’s unique purpose to show that Jesus is the Son of David, Son of Abraham. Not only does this connect the New Testament back to the Old Testament, it also would have been particularly important if Matthew was writing to Jewish Christians, as many suppose. For Matthew, Jesus is the fulfillment of God’s covenant promises, both to Abraham and to David; he is the long awaited Davidic messiah, heir to the throne of God’s Kingdom, and the one who mediates the blessings of the Abrahamic Covenant.
More than that though, for Matthew, Jesus is a new and better Moses. This is evident in the many ways that the events of the first four chapters recapitulate the life of Moses. On top of this, Matthew has structured His gospel around five primary discourses, a fact that likely refers back to the five books of Moses. In the same way that Moses was the mediator of the Law under the Old Covenant, likewise, Jesus is the mediator of the “law” under the New Covenant. This is confirmed in the Great Commission, where Jesus commands His disciples to “teach all that I have commanded you.” The phrase “all that I have commanded you” most naturally refers back to the content of the five primary discourses in Matthew’s Gospel. Because of this, many consider Matthew’s Gospel to be a handbook on discipleship, a manual that instructs us in what it means to follow Jesus.
The Gospel of Luke rounds out the “Synoptic Gospels”, and like Matthew, it begins with a beautiful retelling of the Christmas story. However, what stands out in Luke’s infancy narrative is the role of the Holy Spirit. Of course, many consider Luke to be the theologian of the Spirit par excellence in the New Testament, not least of which is due to the continued role that the Spirit plays in Luke’s second volume, the Book of Acts, otherwise known as the Acts of the Holy Spirit. Luke’s emphasis on the role of the Spirit is largely due to his desire to present Jesus as the Spirit anointed messiah. This is confirmed in chapter 4 of Luke’s Gospel, when Jesus reads a passage from the Book of Isaiah, which says in part “The Spirit is upon me.” After He sits down, He says, “Today, this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” In other words, Luke wants us to see that Jesus is the spirit anointed Messiah who has finally come to pour out the blessings of the Messianic jubilee. According to the passage from Isaiah, chapter 61, these blessings are primarily manifested in the compassionate healing of those who are blind, deaf, mute, etc, and throughout Jesus’ ministry, Luke repeatedly details the compassion that Jesus demonstrated during his healing ministry. For Luke in particular, Jesus is a man of sorrows, well acquainted with grief, bearing the burdens and ailments of many.
In addition to this, a large portion of Luke’s unique material is dedicated to Jesus’ final journey toward Jerusalem. In Luke, chapter 9, we read that “He set his face like flint to go to Jerusalem;” this simply means that the final journey of Jesus to Jerusalem to be crucified was purposeful and intentional on the part of Jesus, so that “the scriptures might be fulfilled.” The fulfillment of God’s plan for salvation history is a primary emphasis in both Luke’s Gospel and in the Book of Acts. In other words, Jesus was not a victim of circumstance or the maniacal plots of evil men; He was delivered up according to the predetermined plan of God from before the foundations of the world. Luke wants his audience to understand that everything that happened during the life of Jesus from his birth to his death, resurrection, ascension, and session is the fulfillment of God’s eternal plan to redeem humanity from their sins. In fact, in the final chapter of Luke’s gospel, we read on more than one occasion that “all that was written in the Law, the Prophets, and the Psalms must be fulfilled.”
Last, but certainly not least, is the Gospel of John, and the relationship between John and the synoptics is a question that has bewildered many throughout the centuries. This is mostly because John begins His gospel with a striking description of the eternal Word, God the Son, who came incarnate and “dwelt among us”. Clearly, “the disciple whom Jesus loved” wants his readers to understand that this Jesus was no ordinary man; He is the incarnate God man, the Word made flesh, and as he indicates at the end of His gospel, “These things are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, and by believing, have life in His name.” The deity of Jesus practically jumps off of the page in John’s gospel, not the least of which is because of the several “I am” statements that are found throughout the book, the most profound of which is “Before Abraham was, I am.” Of course, these “I am” statements refer back to the divine name which was revealed to Moses at the burning bush, and so indicate a startling awareness in the mind of Jesus of His own divinity.
Of course, in the service of this purpose, John structures His gospel around seven specific miracles, or, as he calls them, “signs.” If John did, in fact, write two to three decades after the synoptics, then it seems clear that he did not believe it necessary to record all that Jesus began to do and teach; he even confesses that to do so would require more books than could be humanly conceived. But these seven signs were singled out by John because they advance His thesis that Jesus is the Christ. From the turning of water into wine to the raising of Lazarus from the dead, every one of these signs demonstrate a particular aspect of Jesus messianic identity and so prove that He is the Christ, the one who gives and sustains life in all those who are filled with His Spirit.
In the final analysis, it seems clear that if one of these four gospels were lost or removed from the canon, the followers of Jesus would be at a severe disadvantage. Each and every one of them is necessary for us to appreciate the multi-faceted beauty of the person and work of Him who is called Christ. From the earliest centuries of the Christian movement, these four evangelists have stood together in chorus, singing not in unison but in harmony, and because of this, the followers of Jesus have a sure and certain foundation upon which they can stand as they attempt to follow Christ and be more like Him.
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On Persistence in Prayer – Part 3
I have recently been considering Jesus’ teaching on the topic of prayer. In my last post in particular, I looked at Luke 11 and the parable of the friend at midnight, and I concluded that Jesus is calling us to a persistence in prayer that is general in scope, a persistence in the spiritual discipline of prayer, itself. Our Father is not the kind of God who needs to worn down, pestered, or annoyed into answering our prayers. He is an essentially good and trustworthy father who knows what His children need before we even ask him, and he delights in meeting the needs of his children.
Now, in chapter 18, just seven chapters later, Luke presents a parable that would seem to negate that very conclusion. In Luke 18:1, Luke states that “Now he told them a parable on the need for them to pray always and not give up,” and he goes on to relay the parable of the unjust judge in which a widow repeatedly goes before a local magistrate seeking justice against her “adversary.” Ultimately, the judge concludes that “because this widow keeps pestering me, I will give her justice, so that she doesn’t wear me out by her persistent coming.” (v5-6) If we assume that this parable relates to the practice of prayer in general, then we have no choice but to conclude that perhaps we need pester God into giving in to our requests.
This is exactly the assumption that we must reconsider in this passage: is Luke and, by way of implication, Jesus telling this parable to illustrate something about prayer in general? I think not.
Luke often arranges the teaching and parabolic material of Jesus topically, and he indicates the topic usually at the beginning of a new section. So, in Luke 17:20, Luke begins a new section about “when the kingdom of God would come,” and this section dealing with the coming of the kingdom begins in 17:20 and extends all the way until Luke 18:8. (Remember, Luke did not originally have chapter divisions). Then, in Luke 18:9, he begins a new section in which “He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and looked down on everyone else.” This informs us that Jesus is not addressing our practice of prayer in general, but he is addressing a very specific kind of prayer, i.e. the prayer for the coming of the kingdom.
Secondly, in order to understand the exact nature of the widow’s request, we have to see her in light of the first century world in which Jesus lived. In Jesus’ day, women were essentially powerless, and, if their husband died, then they were left without many options for survival. Most likely, this widow was not allowed to inherit her husband’s property. So, her only options were to remain with her husband’s family where she would probably be treated as a servant, or to return to her family and repay her dowry to her parents. If she could not do either of these, she would probably be sold as a slave for debt. She was faced with homelessness, poverty, and starvation. So, her request to the judge “give me justice against my adversary” is a once-in-a-lifetime request, it was unique to her situation, and it was not something she would repeat ever again. Her situation is desperate, and she is powerless to change it.
Lastly, just like in Luke 11, so here we must recognize that Jesus is using a rhetorical technique called “from the lesser to the greater”; he is making a “how much more” argument, and he is doing so by way of contrast and not comparison. It is patently obvious in this passage that we are not supposed to identify God with the unjust judge, since the passage tells us twice that he neither feared God nor respected men. The God of the Bible is fair, good, and just. He treats all people equally; He blesses those who call upon him in faith. No, God is not like the judge in this passage.
So, hear Jesus’ conclusion,
“Listen to what the unjust judge says. Will not God grant justice to his elect who cry out to him day and night? Will he delay in helping them? I tell you he will swiftly grant them justice.” (vv6-8)
In the final analysis, Jesus is teaching us to pray always as he taught us in The Lord’s Prayer, “May your kingdom come,” and not give up hope. He is coming soon. “Amen, come Lord Jesus!”
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On Persistence in Prayer – Part 2
“Lord, teach us to pray.” (Luke 11:1) A seemingly simple question, but what is striking is that the disciples must have known how to pray. After all, they were raised in a Jewish religious system that placed a significant value on prayer. Nevertheless, when they compared their experience to that of Jesus, they couldn’t help but conclude that there must be something that they were missing out on in their practice of prayer.
And Jesus’ answer to the disciples’ question is the Lord’s prayer, a text that is probably not completely unfamiliar to most. (Luke 11:2-4) So, in lieu of an extended discussion on all the clauses of this “model prayer”, we may simply conclude that Jesus’ understanding of prayer was grounded in His relationship with the Father which He had by nature as the Son of God, and, in the gospel, that relationship is extended to us by grace through faith. We may now bring all of our needs and concerns to God in prayer, because He has become our Father and we have become His children. (On this, see my post: On the Lord’s Prayer)
Jesus’ answer to the disciples’ question, however, doesn’t simply stop with the model prayer. He goes on in this passage to describe what kind of a father God actually is, i.e. a good and trustworthy Father who responds to the requests of his children. This much is explicitly stated in Luke 11:11-13; this much seems reasonably clear. The difficulty, though, lies in between these two seemingly clear pieces of Jesus’ answer, and this being the “parable of the friend at midnight”. (Luke 11:5-8)
5 And he said to them, “Which of you who has a friend will go to him at midnight and say to him, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves, 6 for a friend of mine has arrived on a journey, and I have nothing to set before him’; 7 and he will answer from within, ‘Do not bother me; the door is now shut, and my children are with me in bed. I cannot get up and give you anything’? 8 I tell you, though he will not get up and give him anything because he is his friend, yet because of his impudence he will rise and give him whatever he needs. (ESV)
On a first reading, it might seem that Jesus is suggesting that, when we have a particular need or concern, we ought to persistently bring that request to God in prayer until He responds. After all, isn’t that what the friend in the parable had to do to get his neighbor to give in to his request? And doesn’t Jesus say that it is because of the friend’s persistence (cf. v8, so NASB, NET, NKJV, HCSB) that causes the neighbor to rise and respond to his request.
However, there are several exegetical and theological problems with this “persistence” interpretation
- In vv. 5-7, Jesus is asking a rhetorical question similar to the question he asks a little later in the same passage in vv. 11-12. In both places, the question is simply “would any of you do something like this?”, and in both places, the implied answer is “No!” Just as no father would give their child something that is harmful like a snake or a scorpion, no person in Jesus’ day would act like the friend in this parable.
- Jesus confirms this when he describes the friends actions as “impudence” (v.8, so ESV). Now, a quick survey of the major translations reveals quite a bit of diversity in the translation of this word even though, most translations opt for something like “persistence”. The problem is that this is the only occurrence of this Greek word in the entire NT, a hapax legomena, and when we look at the uses of this word outside of the NT, it is reasonably clear that it never means anything like persistence. It always carries a negative connotation of something like shamelessness, impertinence, impudence, ignoring of convention. It describes a lack of sensitivity to what is proper, or a carelessness about the good opinion of others (so BDAG).
- Lastly, Jesus is making an argument from the lesser to the greater, a how much more argument, and he is doing so by way of contrast and not comparison. In other words, if this sleeping neighbor will respond to the embarrassing, culturally inappropriate, shameless request of his friend, then how much more will God certainly respond to the appropriate and legitimate requests of His children. The parallel question in the passage, which we alluded to earlier (v. 11-13) drives this point home: God will certainly give His children good things when they ask Him.
For these reasons, it is unfortunate that translators and commentators continue to import the idea of persistence into this parable. Jesus is not calling us to be more persistent (read insistent) in our prayers; rather, he is calling us to grow in our faith and trust that God is a good father who responds to the needs of His children when they bring them to Him in prayer. If this is so then, one cannot help but wonder if there is not some other scriptural warrant upon which we might base a theology of persistence in prayer. In this regard, some turn to the “ask, seek, knock” saying in 11:9-10.
9 And I tell you, ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. 10 For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened.
The imperatives in this saying – ask! seek! knock! – are in the present tense, and in the original language, this usually refers to a continuous action. So, the HCSB translation “keep asking… keep searching… keep knocking” is not completely unwarranted. However, it would be wrong to conclude that repetition in asking, seeking, and knocking is what causes it to be given to or opened for us, especially in light of the preceding parable of the friend at midnight. In light of what we said there, it seems more likely that Jesus is saying that we should keep on asking, seeking, and knocking because we can trust God our Father to give and to open. In other words, the cause-effect relationship does not flow from prayers voiced to answers received, but the other way around. God’s fatherly goodness should motivate us to keep on asking, seeking, and knocking.
So, we may need to reconsider our definition of persistence in prayer. Most of the time, when people think of persistence in prayer, they think of the repetitive bringing of the same request over and over to God until He gives us an answer. However, this definition simply doesn’t reflect what Jesus is teaching in this passage. Further, the path between this kind of “persistence” and sinful insistence would seem to be quite slippery indeed. No, I think Jesus is envisioning a different kind of persistence – one that is more general in its scope, one that is grounded in faithfulness to the spiritual discipline of prayer itself, one that is motivated by our fundamental belief in God’s Fatherly goodness. In other words, Jesus is calling us to a persistence that is characterized by the regular bringing of all our requests to God in prayer, always trusting in Him to respond to our needs as a Father.
For further study:
Sermon: Lord, Teach Us to Pray! (Luke 11:1-13)
Series: The Parables of Jesus
Church: Redeemer Church, La Mirada, CA
Date: June 19, 2011
See also Snodgrass, Klyne. Stories with Intent: A Comprehensive Guide to the Parables of Jesus. Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 2008.
