Simply put, middle knowledge affirms, with classic Arminianism, that God’s predestining activity is based on his foreknowledge of what all humans would do in all possible situations that they could find themselves in. But it also observes that God’s omniscience is so great that it is not limited just to what all actually created being would do but to what all possibly created beings would do in all possible situations. Because God creates only a finite number of persons between the beginning of the universe and Christ’s return, his sovereign choice is preserved, because he must choose to create some beings and not others. Thus, with classic Calvinism, his sovereign, elective freedom is preserved.

Essentially, Blomberg seems to be saying that God knows how different types of people will respond to different situations in life. Based on that knowledge, God chooses whom to create (and presumably when they are created), thereby sovereignly affecting the course of human events.

It is interesting to me that with the change of one single letter, Blomberg’s position might echo that of Greg Boyd, a leading proponent of open theism. That is, if the statement, “God’s predestining activity is based on his foreknowledge of what all humans would do in all possible situations that they could find themselves in” were modified to read “[...] what all humans could do in all possible situations [...]“, then open theism fits.

In his introductory book on open theism, God of the Possible, Greg Boyd lays out the basic model is that God is sovereign and has imagined or created all of the possibilities of choice in life, but leaves the actual choosing up to us. Sort of a grand book of Choose Your Own Adventure, where we are free to make decisions that take our lives down different plot lines, but the paths that we go down have already been imagined and thought of by God.

The difference between open theism and a more traditional model is whether God foreknew what choices we would/will make, before we make them. The traditional view says, “yes, God foreknew what choices we would make and thus knows what path our life will go down”, while open theism says, “no, God does not know what choices we will make, leaving our life’s path a sequence of open possibilities.”

As for the second part of Blomberg’s position reconciling middle knowledge with Calvianism, I don’t see a conflict there if open theism were in play: based on God’s knowledge of our tendancies, he chooses to create some beings and not others. The difference is whether God has specific people in mind for specific tasks/outcomes in history, or whether he uses specific types of people, who may or may not respond “appropriately”. In either case, God’s “sovereign, elective freedom is preserved” through the intentional creation of human beings throughout history.

With that in mind, here is a five-book list as best as I can cobble it together:

1. William Barclay’s Daily Study Bible commentary series on the NT. A self-professed “liberal evangelical”, Barclay denied the supernatural in Jesus’ miracles in favor of non-miraculous natural explanations grounded in rational thought. While I may not agree with him on all of those points, I certainly agree with Barclay’s writing style for the common man. His commentaries are a treasure trove of historical context and his writing is accessible to all but the densest readers.

2. Kenneth Gentry’s Before Jerusalem Fell remains the standard apologetic for early-date authorship of Revelation and the partial preterist viewpoint. I had been introduced to the preterist view earlier, but Gentry’s book forever changed the way I read Revelation.

3. Garry Friesen’s Decision Making & the Will of God sealed a Wisdom-first approach to God and the Bible. Friesen rejects the traditional view that God has an individual Will or plan for each person that should guide our decision making process; instead we are free to make choices that can (should) be informed by the Wisdom of the Word. In many ways, this anticipates some of the Greg Boyd perspectives.

4. Calvin Seerveld’s The Greatest Song opened doors to exploring a musico-dramatic interpretation of Biblical texts. With this setting of the Song of Songs, Seerveld finds new voices in the text and brings them to life in a format that resonated strongly with me. His book of Psalms is similar, though not as multimedia focused. New translations like The Voice pick up elements of this dramatic presentation.

5. Eugene Peterson’s Eat This Book is a convincing argument that reading the Bible is not an end to itself or a means of inviting God into our lives, but instead the means by which we join into God’s narrative and live in the Kingdom. Peterson aruges that our interest in reading the Bible is driven by our active participation in the reality of the Bible, in God’s Kingdom. When we cease to participate in God’s work, we cease to be interested in understanding God’s Word.

With the title taken from John’s experience of eating the scroll in Revelation 10, Peterson’s essential premise is that the meta-form of the Bible is narrative and that by the merging of imagination and faith with a captivated desire to read as if we were gnawing on a bone, we insert ourselves into God’s revealed story and make it the central authority of our lives.

Without this text, firmly established at the authoritative center of our communal and personal lives, we will founder. We will sink into a swamp of well-meaning but ineffectual men and women who are mired unmercifully in our needs and wants and feelings.

These last three things – needs and wants and feelings – Peterson identifies as a modern replacement Trinity, where we replace God with ourselves as the central authority in our lives. Selfish instead of selfless.

As I chewed on these passages, I thought of an analogy, perhaps imperfect, but that seems to fit. If you will, think of a lecher and a lover. Both find something attractive in the form or function of another person. Whether it is physical or emotional does not matter. Both may linger over soft curves or sculpted chests, reciprocated respect or unfettered feelings, both enjoying the attraction that consumes their desires.

On one hand, the lecher is private. By that I mean that the attraction they feel toward the object of their attention is for the purposes of making themselves feel good. They derive pleasure from someone else, but for the purpose of their own enjoyment. There is no reciprocity of feeling; the lecher doesn’t make the other party similarly feel good, that is if the other party is even aware of the attraction.

On the other hand, the lover is communal. The attraction they feel toward the object of their attention makes them feel good, like the lecher, but added is the reflection of that good feeling back toward the object of their attention. The primary purpose of their attention is not to derive pleasure but to give pleasure to the person they are in relation with. The other party cannot help but be aware of the attraction as they are receiving positive affirmation of their self.

So, with this analogy in mind, I ask: when you read the Bible, are you a lecher or a lover?

Do you read the Bible to derive pleasure for yourself, delighting in literary linguistics, theological hairpins or grammatical nuances, or do you read the Bible to absorb and reflect the beauty of God’s narrative onto the people who surround you in life?

Do you read for private pleasure or for public practice? Is your imagination and faith focused on systematic learning, the dissection of a corpse of information, or are your affections given to the living, the reflected attention of the hands and feet of Christ?

On this Good Friday, when we remember Christ crucified on the cross, it is easy to remember his death. But in less than 36 hours from now, we will be celebrating the resurrected living Word. As the practice of that celebration, make sure that you are focused on the world beyond you, not a stage where you sit leering at passersby, but the living world we are called to love.

In lieu of a more formal book review, here is my capsule summary:

“In response to the sudden appearance of extraterrestrial visitors, philo-math monks gather together to discuss multi-state causal consciousness models as a outflow of quantum mechanics.”

Sound interesting? Anathem is a great book and I highly recommend it if you like mathematics, philosophy, Neal Stephenson, alt world literature, monks and/or just a good adventure story. There is plenty of typically dense Stephenson writing where math intersects with philosophy, but the narrative keeps the story moving forward in an unforced manner.

I read this on the Kindle and really appreciated the convenience of the eBook format – I have the hardbacks of Stephenson’s Baroque Cycle trilogy and those were a pain to haul around.

Titles I’ve purchased:

1. KJV Bible
2. NET Bible (Noteless)
3. Star Wars: Legacy of the Force: Betrayal
4. The Message// Remix: Solo: The Uncommon Devotional

I tend to read the Bible during the morning commute and my “fluff” stuff in the afternoon when I’m tired. I’ve been looking for a way to integrate The Message into my reading and a daily devotional is as good an approach as any – though it remains to be seen whether this particular format will be appropriate or not for commuting. I’ll write more about this book when I have some time with it under my belt.

I’m disappointed that the TNIV The Books of the Bible is not readily available for Kindle – I had hoped to make that my “reading Bible”, but only the NT books are available on Amazon and for ~$40 total, whereas you can order a print version for under $10. Go figure.

Reading on the Kindle is brilliantly simple – I’m able to sit on the bus and read page after page with only the twitch of my finger on the Next Page button. This ease can not be overstated enough when you’re packed together like sardines and everyone is wearing their winter combat gear. I don’t have to worry about shifting hands to turn pages and accidentally elbowing the person sitting next to me. That said, I haven’t tried Kindle reading and drinking coffee at the same time nor have I had to read while standing on a full bus yet…

The Bookmark feature is very easy to use – flagging a “page” saves your current location in a book and you can return immediately to that spot. The Kindle even “dog ears” the page you were on to help out if you’re visually “flipping” through pages instead.

Finally, I’ve downloaded a copy of Mobipocket Creator, which promises to be able to convert PDF files to a format that is readable on the Kindle. So theoretically, I will be able to convert my PDF version of the NETS (New English Translation of the Septuagint) to a Kindle-compatible format, as well as any other articles or books I’ve collected. Of course, those wouldn’t have any coding or indexing, e.g. Table of Contents, but the content at least would be accessible.

Ironically, the closest book is in a stack that I haven’t given any attention to since I put them down by my monitor. So the top book is the closest, that being “The Canon Debate” by Lee Martin McDonald and James A. Sanders. McDonald is the uncle of a friend of ours from church and he (our friend) lent it to me to take a look…

Anyway, on to page 123:

When he summarizes the laws in A.J.3.223-286; 4.196-302, he even apologizes for digressing from the historical narrative, making it clear that the laws constitute only a small part of what Moses wrote (3.223; 4.196). This agrees with his language in C.Ap.1.39.

Nor can his famous recognition of Daniel as “one of the greatest prophets” (A.J.10.266), in contrast to the rabbinic scheme that left Daniel among the “Writings,” serve as evidence of order within Josephus’s Bible.

Um. Yeah. I doubt that I’ll be hitting that stack real soon…

I realize that John Hobbins had started a collective blogging project earlier this summer on the book(s) that inspired our childhoods… I figure I’m only four months late to the party!

Two books are coming to mind today – or more accurately, one book and a series of book:

Tove Jansson’s Moominpappa at Sea. I know now that Jansson wrote multiple books and there was even an animated cartoon on television, but my portal to the world of Moomin was this book in which the quixotic Moominpappa drags his troll family from their home across the sea to a desolate lighthouse. Followed by the mysterious Groke who freezes everything she touches while craving light and warmth, and sharing the island with a cranky old fisherman and delightful seahorses who dance in the moon light, the Moomins explore the dark and light of relationships and responsibility. I grew up surrounded by the sea and cold, so these themes resonated, as did the children’s pursuit of autonomy and freedom.

Lloyd Alexander’s Chronicles of Prydain series. This is like a poor man’s Lord of the Rings: fantasy adventure with a quest, an unlikely hero who must grow up to suceed, danger, monsters, an evil lord bent on destruction, etc. Yet good enough for the final chapter of this five-book series to win the coveted Newbery Award. And perfect for the youth yearning for adventure beyond the frozen windows of his house in the woods.

It’ll be a few years before Sam is ready to tackle these on his own, but his imagination is big enough to jump into the world of the storyteller and listen to them read out loud. Perhaps it’s time for Dad to share a bit of his youth…

I am continuing my survey of Bible Translation books, now reading Donald Kraus’ volume, Choosing a Bible For Worship, Teaching, Study, Preaching, and Prayer. Kraus is Executive Editor for Bibles at Oxford University Press and presents a fairly even-handed review of translation philosophies, from strict interlinear to cultural paraphrase, though most of his time is spent in the space between the NASB and The Message.

I wanted to note one passage from the book: his consideration of the opening verses of John. Kraus considers the RSV, NIV, NJB, NLT, Moffat, TEV, CEV, The Message and Phillips translations for this passage. After discussing the various treatments of the Greek logos, he turns to “the verb katalambano (katelaben in the text – a past tense).”

This verb means “to take (as in the hand) in such a way as to hold firmly or fully.” By extension it means “to understand, comprehend.” [...] In the final phrase of this extract, “the light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not katelaben it,” there is a classic translator’s dilemma. The writer probably meant both “hold so as to extinguish” and “understand the nature of” — the darkness has not extinguished the light, and the darkness has not understood the real nature of the light. In English, however, it is not possible to convey both of these meanings at once, and therefore it is necessary to choose.

For reference, here are a handful of translations of the verse in question, John 1.5:

The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it. (NIV)

The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it. (NASB; cf. KJV)

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it. (NLT)

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. (ESV; cf. TNIV, HCSB)

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has never mastered it. (REB)

Is Kraus correct in that there is an inherent dual meaning or ambiguity in the original Greek that cannot be represented in English? Perhaps not. In the same discussion as above, Krauss notes that “a similar overlapping meaning occurs in English with the verb ‘grasp’, which can mean both ‘hold physically’ and ‘understand’.” If we lean toward the REB’s choice of “master” instead of “extinguish” or “overcome”, then we might allow that the semantic range of “grasp” includes having control or holding firmly. Certainly the traditonal sense of “understand” or “comprehend” is included in “grasping an idea or thought.”

With that in mind, perhaps another way of translating this verse is:

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has been unable to fully grasp it.

I suppose the ultimate question is, when faced with a scenario of ambiguous dual meaning, is it better to translate to a word that naturally communicates the full sense of one of the meanings, but not the other (and presumably footnote the alternate meaning), or translate to a word that communicates some of the semantic range of both meanings? And if the latter, can we add a modifier, like “fully” above, that strengthens  meaning while still retaining the ambiguity?

I’ve been reading the first few chapters of Fee and Strauss’ “How to Choose a Translation For All It’s Worth” with a nodding smile on my face, given the general endorsement of functional, idiomatic translation as their preferred approach to the Bible (and translation in general).

In addition to the standard Formal-to-Functional spectrum of translations, Fee and Strauss discuss the polarity of original meaning vs. contemporary relevance. Most Bibles place greater emphasis on original meaning as a means of conveying semantic accuracy, but all make accommodations for contemporary relevance, if only to convert ancient units of measure to modern equivalents, e.g. miles instead of the Greek stadia.

Some recent translations make even more accommodation to achieve contemporary relevance. The NLT is built on the premise of “the truth made clear” in an effort to communicate the message of the Bible clearly and naturally. Marketing language from Zondervan emphasizes the contemporary relevance of the TNIV:

[The TNIV has] the up-to-date language of today for readability. This rendition of Scripture provides a new choice for those who desire a contemporary [...] translation.

[...] a new translation that speaks the timeless truth of God’s Word in the language of today.

Yet, as readable as the NLT and TNIV are, they still keep the Bible’s time and culture at arms’ length, creating cultural foreignness as an essential means of retaining “accuracy”. The language may be “of today”, but the time and culture of the TNIV is not – it is of millenniums ago.

Should God’s Word be culturally isolated and passed on as a carefully preserved relic? Or should it be living and breathing and constantly reinventing itself to be relevant and applicable? Is the message in the words or in the meaning? If we translate to the meaning, shouldn’t we be translating within our own time and culture as receptors of the text? It is popular these days to laud the NLTse as an accurate functional translation (and it is), but I wonder why the more idiomatic First Edition still has so many devoted fans who refuse to “upgrade”. Is it because the language of the original, and the Living Bible before it, is closer to our own time and culture and speaks a “heart language” that the newer revision does not? Is the “heart language” of the Bible a theological treatise – or is it a vivid proclamation of the relationship between God and his people?

To this end, Eugene Peterson tried to “intentionally eliminate historical distance not only with reference to language but also with reference to time and culture.” (F&S, p.33) Fee and Strauss quote Matthew 23:27 from The Message:

You’re like manicured grave plots, grass clipped and the flowers bright, but six feet down it’s all rotting bones and worm-eaten flesh.

As you scramble for your preferred translation to see “what the text *really* says”, think about what you find. Chances are, there’s a reference to “whitewashed tombs”. Do you know what that means? I mean, RIGHT NOW, without thinking about it. This isn’t about theological nuance – it’s about your instinctive response to the English language. Personally, I know which one sounds foreign and which one sounds relevant…  and that’s why I say that the most significant – not the most formal, functional, accurate, readable, dynamic, literal, literary or idiomatic – the most significant version of the Bible available today is The Message.

And I don’t have a copy. For shame…

1. Because Jesus has come as the promised son (Isa. 9.6), there is no longer any need for religious or legal privilege to be given to fathers and sons. “Daughters are equally endowed with the Spirit and receive the same baptism,” as well as “the right to inherit the future of God’s kingdom”.
2. There is no longer a need for a child to be born who will usher in God’s kingdom, so procreation is no longer a justification for a relationship or marriage. “There is no religious duty to have a child.”
3. As a result of the previous consequence, “there is in principle no longer any need for men and women to marry [...]. Voluntary celibacy and voluntary virginity [are not] deficient ways of living.”
4. However, every new child is born for the future of God’s creation and represents a renewal of hope in the kingdom of heaven “among fallen men and women”.

Presumably, Moltmann believes that the Genesis 1 mandate to fill the earth and have dominion over it was fulfilled by Christ, the perfect human, establishing his reign over creation.

I wonder if some of these thoughts are reflected in Jesus’ comment that in the age to come, men and women “do not marry, for they are no longer subject to death. They are like angels; they are children of God, because they share in the resurrection.” (Lk. 20.35-36) Christ fulfilled the prophecy of the promised son, so procreation is no longer needed in this age or the age to come.

See also: “Grokked, not yoked?“