These are the devotionals that are taken from the book For the Love of God by D.A. Carson. It goes along with the church's bible reading plan
April 26 - Song of Songs 1
Although (or perhaps because) the Song of Songs is one of the most difficult of biblical books, it has been extraordinarily popular with both Jews and Christians. It has called forth a large number of commentaries and sermons. Space here is far too limited for a discussion, but perhaps I should record my tentative conclusions on four matters before reflecting on Song 1.
(1) Although some have denied that this book is about sexual love in any primary sense, but is an allegory of either the love between Yahweh and Israel or between Christ and the church, I doubt it. So many details of Song of Songs are so explicitly human and sexual (all the more so when the ancient Semitic symbolism is appreciated) that to argue that the meaning of the text is allegorical is unlikely. Moreover, there are many parallels in other love poetry in ancient near eastern Wisdom Literature, so that one must conclude the genre was well known.
(2) On the other hand, after fully acknowledging the human and sexual love that this book celebrates—for God has made us human and sexual, and Wisdom Literature often focuses on the glory of the created order—we may not be far off the mark if we also see, within the canonical framework, a typological connection with God and Israel, with Christ and the church. For that is a theme repeatedly picked up in both Testaments (see, for instance, Hosea, or Rev. 21).
(3) Some have seen three principal figures in this book: the woman, her shepherd-lover, and the lascivious king who is trying to add the woman to his harem. On balance, it seems better to see only two primary parties, the woman and the king-shepherd-lover. The “daughters of Jerusalem” who keep reappearing (e.g., Song 1:5) are the woman’s female companions.
(4) Although it is reasonably clear that consummation takes place in Song 3:6–5:1, complete with wedding song, this does not mean there are no sexual overtones earlier in the book. Yet far from endorsing promiscuity (as a few commentators have suggested), the book is committed to exclusive, monogamous love. What is less clear is that the thought is sequential, merely linear.
The “beloved,” the woman, often takes the initiative (Song 1:2ff.). Yet she is unsure of herself. Her long exposure to the sun, apparently imposed on her by brothers (Is her father dead?) who insist that she tend the vines, means she is a sun-darkened country lass (Song 1:5–7). Her friends reassure her (Song 1:8)—as does her lover (Song 1:9–11). After her sensual soliloquy (Song 1:12–14), a series of bantering exchanges between the beloved and her lover bring the section to a close (Song 1:15–2:2). One remembers Proverbs 30:19.
April 27 - Hebrews 2
Occasionally, we have overlooked the theological significance of Jesus’ humanity. That is one of the important themes of Hebrews 2.
Both the one who makes human beings holy—Jesus himself—and the human beings who are made holy are of the same family. That is why Jesus is not ashamed to call us brothers (Heb. 2:11). Since we have flesh and blood, he shared in our humanity (Heb. 2:14)—which of course implies that this was something not intrinsically his, but something he had to take on (the eternal Word “became flesh,” John 1:14). He did this so that by his death (something he could never have experienced if he had not donned flesh and blood) “he might destroy him who holds the power of death … and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death” (Heb. 2:14, 15). Jesus did not don the nature of angels (Heb. 2:16—which shows that Jesus was not a merely angelic being). Rather, he became a human being, a human being with a genuine lineage—the lineage of Abraham (Heb. 2:16). If he was to serve as mediator between God and human beings, “he had to be made like his brothers in every way” (Heb. 2:17—which presupposes that he already was like God in every way). So it was entirely “fitting,” then, that God should make the author of our salvation “perfect through suffering” (Heb. 2:10). The idea is not that Jesus gains through suffering a moral perfection he otherwise would have lacked, but that the perfection of his identification with us depended on participating in our common currency, which is suffering.
The author of Hebrews has already hinted at the problem that Jesus came to resolve. Originally human beings were made to be God’s vice-regents over the entire creation, a point not only made by the creation accounts (Gen. 1–2) but reiterated in the superb poetry of Psalm 8 (cited in Heb. 2:6–8). But as the author of Hebrews points out, we do not yet see everything under our feet, as Genesis 1 and Psalm 8 envisage. Of course not: the Fall has intervened, and death takes its unvarying toll. But what do we see? “[W]e 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” (Heb. 2:9). The point is not exactly that Jesus is the “man” envisaged in Psalm 8, as if he were being prophetically described, but that by his mission, by his identification with us, and by his death, he becomes the first human being to be crowned with such glory and honor, as he brings many sons—a new humanity—to glory.
April 28 - Song of Songs 3
If the end of Song 2 finds the beloved and the lover fervently expressing their mutual devotion to each other and the exclusiveness of their love each for the other, Song 3 begins with the woman, the beloved, almost frantically searching for her lover. Many commentators have suggested that chapter 3, and perhaps the entire unit of chapters 3–6, is a dream sequence. That may be right: “All night long on my bed I looked for the one my heart loves” (Song 3:1, italics added), the beloved says. In the first panel (Song 3:1–5), the beloved searches for her lover, and simply assumes that because she knows the man for whom she is looking, everyone else should too—including the night police officers (“the watchers”). She finds him and brings him to her mother’s bedroom (Song 3:4), signaling official consummation.
The coherence of the next panel (Song 3:6–11) is disputed. The best guess is that “this” in Song 3:6 (feminine Hebrew pronoun) refers to the woman. She is being brought up from her dwelling in the country to the court—and in Solomon’s carriage, a gloriously designed and luxurious vehicle. Solomon himself is present, and “the daughters of Zion” watch and “ooohh and aaahh” as the couple make their way to their new home. This then leads to the extravagant language of the lover in chapter 4.
Whether or not this is a dream sequence (I am inclined to think it is), one thing abundantly clear is that the language of love is the language of mutual praise and mutual invitation. Anything less will stifle love. If the language of praise and invitation operates only one way, for instance, it will tire in time or leave the speaker feeling servile or perhaps desperate. If the language of love is the language of praise but not of invitation, it may never breed intimacy—a good relationship but not good sex; if it is the language of invitation but not of praise, it may degenerate into mutual gratification but not mutual edification—good sex but not a good relationship.
Many of us who are married and who reflect on the language of Song of Songs are slightly embarrassed at its sensual abandon. But that may say more about who we are than about what God wants us to be. Like everything else that God made good, marriage and sex and intimacy can be trivialized and sensationalized and brutalized. But God made them good. Believers are bound, so far as their transformed natures can take them this side of the new heavens and the new earth, to display God’s goodness in every arena to which he calls us. We who are married ought, intentionally, to develop the language of mutual praise and invitation.
April 29 - Hebrews 4
Hebrews 3:7–4:11 constitutes a sustained argument. We may briefly summarize what Hebrews 3:7–19 says and focus attention on Hebrews 4:1–11.
The author of Hebrews quotes Psalm 95:7–11 (Heb. 3:7–11), which finds the Holy Spirit (Heb. 3:7), the ultimate author of Scripture, saying, in effect, “Today do not harden your heart as your forefathers did at Kadesh Barnea, when they first approached the Promised Land. The majority of the spies gave a faithless report, with the consequence that the covenant people spent the next forty years wandering around the desert instead of entering into the rest that had been promised them. But today, do not make the same mistake. If you hear the voice of God, believe and obey—unlike the response of your forefathers.” The very people whom God had saved from slavery were the ones he condemned to wander and die in the desert. So today the people of God should persevere in their faith and obedience, and not tumble into the unbelief (Heb. 3:19) of their ancestors.
So far the argument is one of analogy. Hebrews 4 takes it much farther. If God is still offering rest to people in the time of Psalm 95, it follows that the rest provided by the Promised Land was never meant to be the ultimate rest. For Joshua did lead the people into the land, yet “if Joshua had given them rest, God would not have spoken later about another day” (Heb. 4:8). Moreover, when God swears in his anger that the generation at Kadesh Barnea will never enter into “my rest” (Ps. 95:11; Heb. 3:11; 4:3), the thoughtful reader must ask what this “rest” of God really is. God first “rests” at the end of creation week (Gen. 2:2). That becomes a model for the covenantal Sabbath-rest. Yet neither the Sabbath-rest nor the rest in the Promised Land constitute the ultimate rest, for here in Psalm 95, “a long time later” (Heb. 4:7), God still invites people to enter his rest, on the condition of persevering faith (Heb. 4:2, 11).
The ultimate rest, the writer of Hebrews insists, can only be the Gospel, in which men and women cease from their works (as God rested from his at Creation). All of this argumentation depends on reading the Bible in its salvation-historical progression, that is, reading it sequentially along its story-line and observing how the bits not only hang together but point forward and anticipate greater things to come. The argument is not one of analogy but of typology. That is what is calling us to persevering faith and obedience; that is part of what makes the word of God living, active, and penetrating (Heb. 4:12–13).
April 30 - Song of Songs 5
Song 5:2–16 begins a new unit, with the relationship cooling and at least potentially in jeopardy. Probably the most common interpretation is that this section is part of a dream sequence. Note the opening words: “I slept but my heart was awake”—almost a definition of a dream. Dream or not, the intensity of the relationship is declining. In Song 5:2 the lover wants to come to the beloved, but her initial response is cool: “I have taken off my robe—must I put it on again? I have washed my feet—must I soil them again?” (Song 5:3)—scarcely the words of passionate expectation and welcome.
These and the following lines can be read on two levels. On the first, the beloved has gone to bed and cannot even be bothered to get up and open the door; she might get her feet dirty. The lover puts his hand through a hole in the door and tries to raise the latch. The beloved has second thoughts. Rather belatedly she drags herself out of bed, now with at least some anticipation, only to open the door and find her lover gone (Song 5:5–6). Disappointed and ashamed, she roams the city looking for him, and this time the night policemen, the “watchers,” beat her up (Song 5:7)—why is unclear, though some have suggested she is making such a commotion that this was the only way they could keep her quiet. On this reading the “daughters of Jerusalem” (Song 5:8–9) are not friends but city girls who are finally persuaded to join the search, which ultimately proves successful.
At the second level, there is a string of double entendres. “Feet” (Song 5:3) sometimes serve as a euphemism for genitals (e.g., the Hebrew of Judg. 3:24; 1 Sam. 24:3; Isa. 7:20; Ezek. 16:25 [KJV; the NIV translation loses the word foot in each instance]; and the parallelism between “wash your feet” and “lie with my wife” in 2 Sam. 11:8, 11). English Bibles often use “latch-opening” or the like in Song 5:4, but that is certainly not mandated by the relatively rare original—and the rest of the verse, and the next two, suggest a different opening, and arousal on the part of the woman. But by this time the lover, for whatever reason—impatience? disappointment?—is gone.
What shall we make of this? First, all marriages, even the best of marriages, sometimes go through periods of coolness or reserve which, unchecked, could destroy them. Second, dream sequence or not, the way forward is a mutual pursuit of the lover and the beloved, a renewed commitment to the language and self-giving of love. Third, Paul is scarcely less explicit, though more prosaic, when he insists that married Christians, apart from explicit exceptions, are not to deprive their spouses sexually (1 Cor. 7:5; see meditation for February 20).
May 1 - Hebrews 6
The “apostacy” passage Hebrews 6:4–6 (compare Heb. 10:26–31) has historically been the focus of considerable theological and pastoral dispute.
The nub of the question is, can genuine believers lose their salvation? Some Christians reply affirmatively, though it is hard to square such affirmations with, for instance, the “golden chain” of Romans 8:29–30 or the unqualified assertions of John 6:39–40, 44. Some Christians have therefore suggested that what Hebrews envisages is not falling away from eternal life but falling away from useful service. On the face of it, the language of Hebrews 6 and 10 is sterner than that. Others postulate that the warning is merely hypothetical or even beneficial—a means of grace that guarantees believers will not apostatize. But if we know that, it is difficult to take the warning seriously, for we are assured in advance that the set of apostates is an empty set—and that makes the warning slightly ludicrous and not the desperately serious thing that the author of Hebrews thinks it is. Still others argue that elsewhere the New Testament may teach the perseverance and the preservation of the saints, but here it presupposes that some will fall away—and we must simply live with the tension, not to say contradiction.
My own view is that the issue turns on two points, with an important pastoral implication. First, it is not as if Hebrews teaches one thing and Paul and John another. Paul entreats Christians to examine themselves to see if they are in the faith (2 Cor. 13:5), yet constructs the golden chain. John warns that branches in Christ (the true vine) may be cut off (John 15:1–8), yet insists that Christ will preserve all those the Father has given him. There is therefore nothing useful to be gained by pitting Hebrews 6 against, say, John. It aligns very well with one element in John and Paul. Second, one must ask if the individual descriptions (“enlightened,” “tasted of the heavenly gift,” etc.) in Hebrews 6 and 10 require us to think of genuine Christians. The answer to this question is tied to our theology of conversion and to what is meant by “genuine Christian.” The New Testament gives many instances of people who taste enough of God’s grace to turn their lives around and join the visible church, even though they do not have the kind of grace that enables them to persevere. Even Hebrews 3:6, 14 presupposes as much. Under such a “tight” definition of genuine Christian, none falls away. The question then becomes, “Will you persevere? Is your experience of grace so light that you can walk away from the cross?”
What are the pastoral implications? The reflections suggest that the Bible provides wonderful reassurance to the weak and fainthearted, but threatens the openly defiant with a stern probing of the genuineness of their profession of faith.
May 2 - Hebrews 7
In volume 1 (meditation for January 13) we reflected on the place of Melchizedek in Genesis and, by way of anticipation, in the rest of the canon. Here in Hebrews 7 we may reflect on Melchizedek again, this time looking backwards. I shall focus on some of the turning points in the line of thought in Hebrews 7:11–28.
(1) In the previous verses the author establishes that Melchizedek was greater than Abraham, and therefore greater than Abraham’s descendant Levi (since in Hebrew culture the father was always superior to the son). So historically the priest Melchizedek was greater than the priest Levi; in principle, then, the Melchizedekian priesthood, as an institution, is superior to the Levitical priesthood.
(2) When one reads the Old Testament documents sequentially, it is striking that, several centuries after the Mosaic Law that established the Levites as priests, God announces in Psalm 110 (Heb. 5:6; 7:17, 21) that he is raising up a messianic figure who is a priest forever according to the order of Melchizedek, not Levi. (See vol. 1, meditation for June 17.)
(3) In principle, such a promise announces the obsolescence of the Levitical priesthood. It cannot last. In Psalm 110 God through David announces that the Levitical priesthood will be superseded by the Melchizedekian priesthood.
(4) That in turn means there must be a change in the law-covenant given at Sinai. We are sometimes tempted to think that the Law was primarily about “morality,” with a little bit of religious ceremony and some other things tacked on. If that were right, the law-covenant could remain largely intact when the priesthood changes. But that is not the argument of Hebrews. Here we are told that the Levitical priesthood, far from being tacked on, was the very basis of the Law (Heb. 7:11). In other words, in certain respects the ceremonial functions of the Law lie at the heart of its covenantal structure. So with the coming of a non-Levitical priesthood, “there must also be a change of the law” (Heb. 7:12; cf. Heb. 7:17–19), i.e., of the law-covenant. That in turn suggests that it was not the function of the Mosaic Law to establish a pattern of worship and a religious framework valid for God’s people for all time, but that the Law was part of a pattern that pointed forward to a still greater priest and to the ultimate covenant. Inevitably there are points of continuity between the Sinai covenant and the new covenant, but the fundamental change must be grasped to see how the Bible hangs together.
(5) That leads to the wonderful picture in this chapter of the perfection and finality of Jesus as Melchizedekian priest. Meditate on Hebrews 7:23–25.
May 3 - Song of Songs 8
Song 7:9b–8:4 pictures renewed consummation. The Song of Songs depicts several cycles of estrangement, pursuit, consummation. But in the closing verses (Song 8:5–14) the cycles are no longer in view. All the participants in the book—the woman (the beloved), her lover, the daughters of Jerusalem, King Solomon, the mother, the brothers—reappear, as the joy and commitments of the lovers are reaffirmed.
The “friends,” apparently the daughters of Jerusalem, ask the question, “Who is this coming up from the desert leaning on her lover?” (Song 8:5a) The “leaning” is not because she is weak or ill, but is an index of intimacy. Probably there is a glance back at the theme of the country girl who has become the happy bride.
The Hebrew pronouns show that in the second half of verse 5 the bride herself, the beloved, speaks, addressing her lover. I know of no completely satisfactory explanation of Song 8:5b. Perhaps the woman is looking back to her first meeting with the one who would become her lover, and perhaps it was on the same spot where his mother conceived him and bore him. If so she is signaling a kind of familial link, an inter-generational connection. Couples may think they are the first to fall in love, but this woman is shrewd enough to grasp the cohesiveness of human love and life. For her, “love is as strong as death” (Song 8:6). When death calls, none can stop it; when love calls, the same is true. In this light, “jealousy” (Song 8:6) is not the green-eyed monster, but passionate, righteous claims of possession (as in Ex. 20:5). Genuine love can be neither quenched nor bought (Song 8:7).
Commentators dispute who is speaking in Song 8:8–9, but it sounds like the brothers (cf. Song 1:6). The “little sister” of whom they speak is either the beloved herself, whom they do not consider ready for marriage, and to whom she gives a robust reply (Song 8:10); or, more probably, the younger sister of the beloved and her brothers, who is not yet quite sexually mature. The point of their comment is then twofold: to hint at yet another oncoming generation that will fall in love, repeating the cycle all over again; and to serve as a foil to the maturity and delight of the beloved in her consummated relationship with her lover.
If the metaphorical value of “vineyard” persists (Song 8:11–12; cf. Song 2:15), the beloved insists that Solomon may have a large harem, but the only one who can give away the beloved’s “vineyard” is the beloved herself. He cannot command her love, whether for himself (the thousand shekels) or for others (the two hundred shekels—the percentage of the profit of a vineyard shared by the laborers); she gives it. The closing verses are a reprise of consummated love.
May 4 - Isaiah 1
The opening verse of Isaiah 1 introduces the massive sweep of the book. It announces a vision that Isaiah saw, a vision that runs through the reigns of the four kings of Judah from King Uzziah on.
The first section (Isa. 1:2–9) displays how far the nation has fallen. God himself raised up the nation of Israel (Isa. 1:2)—indeed, he “reared” them, brought them up like children; and like rebellious children they have turned against him. An ox or a donkey knows more of its true home than Israel knows of hers. The heavens and earth are invited to listen in on the rebuke (Isa. 1:2), both as a measure of the intensity of the rebellion and because there is a sense in which the well-being of the entire universe depends on whether God’s people obey or disobey his word. The description of the devastation in the land (Isa. 1:5–9) is not metaphorical: probably what is being described is the bloody carnage that accompanied the invasion of Judah by Sennacherib’s Assyrian forces (701 B.C.)—a foretaste of judgment to come.
From here to the end of the chapter, the thought runs in three movements:
(1) Israel is excoriated for her corrupt and hypocritical worship (Isa. 1:10–17). In dripping sarcasm, God addresses his covenant people as Sodom and Gomorrah. They maintain the stipulated sacrificial system and high feast days, but God insists he cannot bear their “evil assemblies” (Isa. 1:13); he hates them (Isa. 1:14). God will not even listen to his people when they pray (Isa. 1:15), for oppression of the weak and corruption in the administration have reached such proportions that he must act in line with the Sinai covenant (Deut. 21:18–21). He can ignore these violations no longer.
(2) Nevertheless Israel is still being invited to forgiveness and cleansing: “‘Come now, let us reason together,’ says the LORD. ‘Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool’” (Isa. 1:18–20). It is not cultic observance that triggers such forgiveness, but repentance: “If you are willing and obedient, you will eat the best from the land” (Isa. 1:19). The alternative is judgment (Isa. 1:20). Later in the book the basis for such forgiveness will be set forth; the devastating judgment of oppression and exile was not necessary, but so often we prefer sin to salvation, greed to grace.
(3) Yet Zion (representing the people of God) will one day “be redeemed with justice, her penitent ones with righteousness” (Isa. 1:27). There is no final redemption that ignores justice and righteousness; only judgment awaits the impenitent (Isa. 1:28, 31).
April 26 - Song of Songs 1
Although (or perhaps because) the Song of Songs is one of the most difficult of biblical books, it has been extraordinarily popular with both Jews and Christians. It has called forth a large number of commentaries and sermons. Space here is far too limited for a discussion, but perhaps I should record my tentative conclusions on four matters before reflecting on Song 1.
(1) Although some have denied that this book is about sexual love in any primary sense, but is an allegory of either the love between Yahweh and Israel or between Christ and the church, I doubt it. So many details of Song of Songs are so explicitly human and sexual (all the more so when the ancient Semitic symbolism is appreciated) that to argue that the meaning of the text is allegorical is unlikely. Moreover, there are many parallels in other love poetry in ancient near eastern Wisdom Literature, so that one must conclude the genre was well known.
(2) On the other hand, after fully acknowledging the human and sexual love that this book celebrates—for God has made us human and sexual, and Wisdom Literature often focuses on the glory of the created order—we may not be far off the mark if we also see, within the canonical framework, a typological connection with God and Israel, with Christ and the church. For that is a theme repeatedly picked up in both Testaments (see, for instance, Hosea, or Rev. 21).
(3) Some have seen three principal figures in this book: the woman, her shepherd-lover, and the lascivious king who is trying to add the woman to his harem. On balance, it seems better to see only two primary parties, the woman and the king-shepherd-lover. The “daughters of Jerusalem” who keep reappearing (e.g., Song 1:5) are the woman’s female companions.
(4) Although it is reasonably clear that consummation takes place in Song 3:6–5:1, complete with wedding song, this does not mean there are no sexual overtones earlier in the book. Yet far from endorsing promiscuity (as a few commentators have suggested), the book is committed to exclusive, monogamous love. What is less clear is that the thought is sequential, merely linear.
The “beloved,” the woman, often takes the initiative (Song 1:2ff.). Yet she is unsure of herself. Her long exposure to the sun, apparently imposed on her by brothers (Is her father dead?) who insist that she tend the vines, means she is a sun-darkened country lass (Song 1:5–7). Her friends reassure her (Song 1:8)—as does her lover (Song 1:9–11). After her sensual soliloquy (Song 1:12–14), a series of bantering exchanges between the beloved and her lover bring the section to a close (Song 1:15–2:2). One remembers Proverbs 30:19.
April 27 - Hebrews 2
Occasionally, we have overlooked the theological significance of Jesus’ humanity. That is one of the important themes of Hebrews 2.
Both the one who makes human beings holy—Jesus himself—and the human beings who are made holy are of the same family. That is why Jesus is not ashamed to call us brothers (Heb. 2:11). Since we have flesh and blood, he shared in our humanity (Heb. 2:14)—which of course implies that this was something not intrinsically his, but something he had to take on (the eternal Word “became flesh,” John 1:14). He did this so that by his death (something he could never have experienced if he had not donned flesh and blood) “he might destroy him who holds the power of death … and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death” (Heb. 2:14, 15). Jesus did not don the nature of angels (Heb. 2:16—which shows that Jesus was not a merely angelic being). Rather, he became a human being, a human being with a genuine lineage—the lineage of Abraham (Heb. 2:16). If he was to serve as mediator between God and human beings, “he had to be made like his brothers in every way” (Heb. 2:17—which presupposes that he already was like God in every way). So it was entirely “fitting,” then, that God should make the author of our salvation “perfect through suffering” (Heb. 2:10). The idea is not that Jesus gains through suffering a moral perfection he otherwise would have lacked, but that the perfection of his identification with us depended on participating in our common currency, which is suffering.
The author of Hebrews has already hinted at the problem that Jesus came to resolve. Originally human beings were made to be God’s vice-regents over the entire creation, a point not only made by the creation accounts (Gen. 1–2) but reiterated in the superb poetry of Psalm 8 (cited in Heb. 2:6–8). But as the author of Hebrews points out, we do not yet see everything under our feet, as Genesis 1 and Psalm 8 envisage. Of course not: the Fall has intervened, and death takes its unvarying toll. But what do we see? “[W]e 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” (Heb. 2:9). The point is not exactly that Jesus is the “man” envisaged in Psalm 8, as if he were being prophetically described, but that by his mission, by his identification with us, and by his death, he becomes the first human being to be crowned with such glory and honor, as he brings many sons—a new humanity—to glory.
April 28 - Song of Songs 3
If the end of Song 2 finds the beloved and the lover fervently expressing their mutual devotion to each other and the exclusiveness of their love each for the other, Song 3 begins with the woman, the beloved, almost frantically searching for her lover. Many commentators have suggested that chapter 3, and perhaps the entire unit of chapters 3–6, is a dream sequence. That may be right: “All night long on my bed I looked for the one my heart loves” (Song 3:1, italics added), the beloved says. In the first panel (Song 3:1–5), the beloved searches for her lover, and simply assumes that because she knows the man for whom she is looking, everyone else should too—including the night police officers (“the watchers”). She finds him and brings him to her mother’s bedroom (Song 3:4), signaling official consummation.
The coherence of the next panel (Song 3:6–11) is disputed. The best guess is that “this” in Song 3:6 (feminine Hebrew pronoun) refers to the woman. She is being brought up from her dwelling in the country to the court—and in Solomon’s carriage, a gloriously designed and luxurious vehicle. Solomon himself is present, and “the daughters of Zion” watch and “ooohh and aaahh” as the couple make their way to their new home. This then leads to the extravagant language of the lover in chapter 4.
Whether or not this is a dream sequence (I am inclined to think it is), one thing abundantly clear is that the language of love is the language of mutual praise and mutual invitation. Anything less will stifle love. If the language of praise and invitation operates only one way, for instance, it will tire in time or leave the speaker feeling servile or perhaps desperate. If the language of love is the language of praise but not of invitation, it may never breed intimacy—a good relationship but not good sex; if it is the language of invitation but not of praise, it may degenerate into mutual gratification but not mutual edification—good sex but not a good relationship.
Many of us who are married and who reflect on the language of Song of Songs are slightly embarrassed at its sensual abandon. But that may say more about who we are than about what God wants us to be. Like everything else that God made good, marriage and sex and intimacy can be trivialized and sensationalized and brutalized. But God made them good. Believers are bound, so far as their transformed natures can take them this side of the new heavens and the new earth, to display God’s goodness in every arena to which he calls us. We who are married ought, intentionally, to develop the language of mutual praise and invitation.
April 29 - Hebrews 4
Hebrews 3:7–4:11 constitutes a sustained argument. We may briefly summarize what Hebrews 3:7–19 says and focus attention on Hebrews 4:1–11.
The author of Hebrews quotes Psalm 95:7–11 (Heb. 3:7–11), which finds the Holy Spirit (Heb. 3:7), the ultimate author of Scripture, saying, in effect, “Today do not harden your heart as your forefathers did at Kadesh Barnea, when they first approached the Promised Land. The majority of the spies gave a faithless report, with the consequence that the covenant people spent the next forty years wandering around the desert instead of entering into the rest that had been promised them. But today, do not make the same mistake. If you hear the voice of God, believe and obey—unlike the response of your forefathers.” The very people whom God had saved from slavery were the ones he condemned to wander and die in the desert. So today the people of God should persevere in their faith and obedience, and not tumble into the unbelief (Heb. 3:19) of their ancestors.
So far the argument is one of analogy. Hebrews 4 takes it much farther. If God is still offering rest to people in the time of Psalm 95, it follows that the rest provided by the Promised Land was never meant to be the ultimate rest. For Joshua did lead the people into the land, yet “if Joshua had given them rest, God would not have spoken later about another day” (Heb. 4:8). Moreover, when God swears in his anger that the generation at Kadesh Barnea will never enter into “my rest” (Ps. 95:11; Heb. 3:11; 4:3), the thoughtful reader must ask what this “rest” of God really is. God first “rests” at the end of creation week (Gen. 2:2). That becomes a model for the covenantal Sabbath-rest. Yet neither the Sabbath-rest nor the rest in the Promised Land constitute the ultimate rest, for here in Psalm 95, “a long time later” (Heb. 4:7), God still invites people to enter his rest, on the condition of persevering faith (Heb. 4:2, 11).
The ultimate rest, the writer of Hebrews insists, can only be the Gospel, in which men and women cease from their works (as God rested from his at Creation). All of this argumentation depends on reading the Bible in its salvation-historical progression, that is, reading it sequentially along its story-line and observing how the bits not only hang together but point forward and anticipate greater things to come. The argument is not one of analogy but of typology. That is what is calling us to persevering faith and obedience; that is part of what makes the word of God living, active, and penetrating (Heb. 4:12–13).
April 30 - Song of Songs 5
Song 5:2–16 begins a new unit, with the relationship cooling and at least potentially in jeopardy. Probably the most common interpretation is that this section is part of a dream sequence. Note the opening words: “I slept but my heart was awake”—almost a definition of a dream. Dream or not, the intensity of the relationship is declining. In Song 5:2 the lover wants to come to the beloved, but her initial response is cool: “I have taken off my robe—must I put it on again? I have washed my feet—must I soil them again?” (Song 5:3)—scarcely the words of passionate expectation and welcome.
These and the following lines can be read on two levels. On the first, the beloved has gone to bed and cannot even be bothered to get up and open the door; she might get her feet dirty. The lover puts his hand through a hole in the door and tries to raise the latch. The beloved has second thoughts. Rather belatedly she drags herself out of bed, now with at least some anticipation, only to open the door and find her lover gone (Song 5:5–6). Disappointed and ashamed, she roams the city looking for him, and this time the night policemen, the “watchers,” beat her up (Song 5:7)—why is unclear, though some have suggested she is making such a commotion that this was the only way they could keep her quiet. On this reading the “daughters of Jerusalem” (Song 5:8–9) are not friends but city girls who are finally persuaded to join the search, which ultimately proves successful.
At the second level, there is a string of double entendres. “Feet” (Song 5:3) sometimes serve as a euphemism for genitals (e.g., the Hebrew of Judg. 3:24; 1 Sam. 24:3; Isa. 7:20; Ezek. 16:25 [KJV; the NIV translation loses the word foot in each instance]; and the parallelism between “wash your feet” and “lie with my wife” in 2 Sam. 11:8, 11). English Bibles often use “latch-opening” or the like in Song 5:4, but that is certainly not mandated by the relatively rare original—and the rest of the verse, and the next two, suggest a different opening, and arousal on the part of the woman. But by this time the lover, for whatever reason—impatience? disappointment?—is gone.
What shall we make of this? First, all marriages, even the best of marriages, sometimes go through periods of coolness or reserve which, unchecked, could destroy them. Second, dream sequence or not, the way forward is a mutual pursuit of the lover and the beloved, a renewed commitment to the language and self-giving of love. Third, Paul is scarcely less explicit, though more prosaic, when he insists that married Christians, apart from explicit exceptions, are not to deprive their spouses sexually (1 Cor. 7:5; see meditation for February 20).
May 1 - Hebrews 6
The “apostacy” passage Hebrews 6:4–6 (compare Heb. 10:26–31) has historically been the focus of considerable theological and pastoral dispute.
The nub of the question is, can genuine believers lose their salvation? Some Christians reply affirmatively, though it is hard to square such affirmations with, for instance, the “golden chain” of Romans 8:29–30 or the unqualified assertions of John 6:39–40, 44. Some Christians have therefore suggested that what Hebrews envisages is not falling away from eternal life but falling away from useful service. On the face of it, the language of Hebrews 6 and 10 is sterner than that. Others postulate that the warning is merely hypothetical or even beneficial—a means of grace that guarantees believers will not apostatize. But if we know that, it is difficult to take the warning seriously, for we are assured in advance that the set of apostates is an empty set—and that makes the warning slightly ludicrous and not the desperately serious thing that the author of Hebrews thinks it is. Still others argue that elsewhere the New Testament may teach the perseverance and the preservation of the saints, but here it presupposes that some will fall away—and we must simply live with the tension, not to say contradiction.
My own view is that the issue turns on two points, with an important pastoral implication. First, it is not as if Hebrews teaches one thing and Paul and John another. Paul entreats Christians to examine themselves to see if they are in the faith (2 Cor. 13:5), yet constructs the golden chain. John warns that branches in Christ (the true vine) may be cut off (John 15:1–8), yet insists that Christ will preserve all those the Father has given him. There is therefore nothing useful to be gained by pitting Hebrews 6 against, say, John. It aligns very well with one element in John and Paul. Second, one must ask if the individual descriptions (“enlightened,” “tasted of the heavenly gift,” etc.) in Hebrews 6 and 10 require us to think of genuine Christians. The answer to this question is tied to our theology of conversion and to what is meant by “genuine Christian.” The New Testament gives many instances of people who taste enough of God’s grace to turn their lives around and join the visible church, even though they do not have the kind of grace that enables them to persevere. Even Hebrews 3:6, 14 presupposes as much. Under such a “tight” definition of genuine Christian, none falls away. The question then becomes, “Will you persevere? Is your experience of grace so light that you can walk away from the cross?”
What are the pastoral implications? The reflections suggest that the Bible provides wonderful reassurance to the weak and fainthearted, but threatens the openly defiant with a stern probing of the genuineness of their profession of faith.
May 2 - Hebrews 7
In volume 1 (meditation for January 13) we reflected on the place of Melchizedek in Genesis and, by way of anticipation, in the rest of the canon. Here in Hebrews 7 we may reflect on Melchizedek again, this time looking backwards. I shall focus on some of the turning points in the line of thought in Hebrews 7:11–28.
(1) In the previous verses the author establishes that Melchizedek was greater than Abraham, and therefore greater than Abraham’s descendant Levi (since in Hebrew culture the father was always superior to the son). So historically the priest Melchizedek was greater than the priest Levi; in principle, then, the Melchizedekian priesthood, as an institution, is superior to the Levitical priesthood.
(2) When one reads the Old Testament documents sequentially, it is striking that, several centuries after the Mosaic Law that established the Levites as priests, God announces in Psalm 110 (Heb. 5:6; 7:17, 21) that he is raising up a messianic figure who is a priest forever according to the order of Melchizedek, not Levi. (See vol. 1, meditation for June 17.)
(3) In principle, such a promise announces the obsolescence of the Levitical priesthood. It cannot last. In Psalm 110 God through David announces that the Levitical priesthood will be superseded by the Melchizedekian priesthood.
(4) That in turn means there must be a change in the law-covenant given at Sinai. We are sometimes tempted to think that the Law was primarily about “morality,” with a little bit of religious ceremony and some other things tacked on. If that were right, the law-covenant could remain largely intact when the priesthood changes. But that is not the argument of Hebrews. Here we are told that the Levitical priesthood, far from being tacked on, was the very basis of the Law (Heb. 7:11). In other words, in certain respects the ceremonial functions of the Law lie at the heart of its covenantal structure. So with the coming of a non-Levitical priesthood, “there must also be a change of the law” (Heb. 7:12; cf. Heb. 7:17–19), i.e., of the law-covenant. That in turn suggests that it was not the function of the Mosaic Law to establish a pattern of worship and a religious framework valid for God’s people for all time, but that the Law was part of a pattern that pointed forward to a still greater priest and to the ultimate covenant. Inevitably there are points of continuity between the Sinai covenant and the new covenant, but the fundamental change must be grasped to see how the Bible hangs together.
(5) That leads to the wonderful picture in this chapter of the perfection and finality of Jesus as Melchizedekian priest. Meditate on Hebrews 7:23–25.
May 3 - Song of Songs 8
Song 7:9b–8:4 pictures renewed consummation. The Song of Songs depicts several cycles of estrangement, pursuit, consummation. But in the closing verses (Song 8:5–14) the cycles are no longer in view. All the participants in the book—the woman (the beloved), her lover, the daughters of Jerusalem, King Solomon, the mother, the brothers—reappear, as the joy and commitments of the lovers are reaffirmed.
The “friends,” apparently the daughters of Jerusalem, ask the question, “Who is this coming up from the desert leaning on her lover?” (Song 8:5a) The “leaning” is not because she is weak or ill, but is an index of intimacy. Probably there is a glance back at the theme of the country girl who has become the happy bride.
The Hebrew pronouns show that in the second half of verse 5 the bride herself, the beloved, speaks, addressing her lover. I know of no completely satisfactory explanation of Song 8:5b. Perhaps the woman is looking back to her first meeting with the one who would become her lover, and perhaps it was on the same spot where his mother conceived him and bore him. If so she is signaling a kind of familial link, an inter-generational connection. Couples may think they are the first to fall in love, but this woman is shrewd enough to grasp the cohesiveness of human love and life. For her, “love is as strong as death” (Song 8:6). When death calls, none can stop it; when love calls, the same is true. In this light, “jealousy” (Song 8:6) is not the green-eyed monster, but passionate, righteous claims of possession (as in Ex. 20:5). Genuine love can be neither quenched nor bought (Song 8:7).
Commentators dispute who is speaking in Song 8:8–9, but it sounds like the brothers (cf. Song 1:6). The “little sister” of whom they speak is either the beloved herself, whom they do not consider ready for marriage, and to whom she gives a robust reply (Song 8:10); or, more probably, the younger sister of the beloved and her brothers, who is not yet quite sexually mature. The point of their comment is then twofold: to hint at yet another oncoming generation that will fall in love, repeating the cycle all over again; and to serve as a foil to the maturity and delight of the beloved in her consummated relationship with her lover.
If the metaphorical value of “vineyard” persists (Song 8:11–12; cf. Song 2:15), the beloved insists that Solomon may have a large harem, but the only one who can give away the beloved’s “vineyard” is the beloved herself. He cannot command her love, whether for himself (the thousand shekels) or for others (the two hundred shekels—the percentage of the profit of a vineyard shared by the laborers); she gives it. The closing verses are a reprise of consummated love.
May 4 - Isaiah 1
The opening verse of Isaiah 1 introduces the massive sweep of the book. It announces a vision that Isaiah saw, a vision that runs through the reigns of the four kings of Judah from King Uzziah on.
The first section (Isa. 1:2–9) displays how far the nation has fallen. God himself raised up the nation of Israel (Isa. 1:2)—indeed, he “reared” them, brought them up like children; and like rebellious children they have turned against him. An ox or a donkey knows more of its true home than Israel knows of hers. The heavens and earth are invited to listen in on the rebuke (Isa. 1:2), both as a measure of the intensity of the rebellion and because there is a sense in which the well-being of the entire universe depends on whether God’s people obey or disobey his word. The description of the devastation in the land (Isa. 1:5–9) is not metaphorical: probably what is being described is the bloody carnage that accompanied the invasion of Judah by Sennacherib’s Assyrian forces (701 B.C.)—a foretaste of judgment to come.
From here to the end of the chapter, the thought runs in three movements:
(1) Israel is excoriated for her corrupt and hypocritical worship (Isa. 1:10–17). In dripping sarcasm, God addresses his covenant people as Sodom and Gomorrah. They maintain the stipulated sacrificial system and high feast days, but God insists he cannot bear their “evil assemblies” (Isa. 1:13); he hates them (Isa. 1:14). God will not even listen to his people when they pray (Isa. 1:15), for oppression of the weak and corruption in the administration have reached such proportions that he must act in line with the Sinai covenant (Deut. 21:18–21). He can ignore these violations no longer.
(2) Nevertheless Israel is still being invited to forgiveness and cleansing: “‘Come now, let us reason together,’ says the LORD. ‘Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool’” (Isa. 1:18–20). It is not cultic observance that triggers such forgiveness, but repentance: “If you are willing and obedient, you will eat the best from the land” (Isa. 1:19). The alternative is judgment (Isa. 1:20). Later in the book the basis for such forgiveness will be set forth; the devastating judgment of oppression and exile was not necessary, but so often we prefer sin to salvation, greed to grace.
(3) Yet Zion (representing the people of God) will one day “be redeemed with justice, her penitent ones with righteousness” (Isa. 1:27). There is no final redemption that ignores justice and righteousness; only judgment awaits the impenitent (Isa. 1:28, 31).