Helping ordinary people learn to study the Bible
Bryan Chapell briefly describes four ways the Old Testament points to Jesus.
This is not an exhaustive list, but it’s a great start to consider when figuring out how to see Jesus in any Bible passage.
Perhaps you’ve heard that this is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it (Ps 118:24)! But what makes today any more joyful than another day? And has God not made all the other days?
Context matters. When we learn to read the Bible properly—and not simply as fodder for tired slogans—we’ll find that some of our most familiar verses have a surprising power to change our lives.
I’ve written before on Psalm 118, where I analyzed the poem’s structure and flow of thought. I won’t repeat that material here, but will assume it and move directly to the verse in question.
Psalm 118:19 begins the victory parade for the returning, victorious king. He starts at the gates of Jerusalem (Ps 118:19), gathers a crowd (Ps 119:20), moves up toward the temple (Ps 118:26), and ends up inside the temple complex at the altar for burnt offering (Ps 118:27b).
It is during this homecoming parade—right where the celebration moves from the lips of the king (the singular “I” and “my” in Ps 118:19-21) to the responsive cries of the people (the plural “us” and “our” in Ps 118:23-27)—that the people proclaim God’s great joke. Their king, who had been rejected by the warring nations surrounding him (Ps 118:10-13), now takes his rightful place as the cornerstone of God’s world-building project.
“The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone. This is Yahweh’s doing; it is marvelous in our eyes” (Ps 118:22-23)
It is at this moment that they beg God to save them (Ps 118:25) and offer a sacrifice to take their place (Ps 118:27).
This day—the day of salvation, the day of praise and thanksgiving for rescuing them through their rejected king, the day of lavish feasting—is the day Yahweh made (Ps 118:24). They have much reason to rejoice and be glad, for their God has had the last laugh against their enemies.
Yet another such day would come. The Jews sang Psalm 118 annually at the feast of the Passover, which explains why it was on their minds when Jesus rode through the gates of Jerusalem like a returning king (Matt 21:9). This also explains why this psalm was on Jesus’ mind when he went to inspect the temple (Mark 11:10-12).
There was a feast on, but these people couldn’t even recognize the one they were supposedly celebrating (Mark 14:1-2).
King Jesus rides through the gates and up to the temple, but he receives no blessing. He never binds the festal sacrifice to the horns of the altar (Ps 118:27); instead he reinterprets the sacrifice around himself and what he’s about to do (Luke 22:14-20). Then he becomes the sacrifice himself.
And this king is not rejected by the surrounding nations. He is rejected by his own people (Matt 26:63-66, John 1:11). And in this way salvation comes to the world (John 3:17, Rom 11:11-12).
“Save us, we pray, O Yahweh! O Yahweh, we pray, give us success!” (Ps 118:25).
Now this is something worth celebrating. This is the day the Lord has made. This is a day that can change your life. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.
Context matters.
Thanks to Elizabeth H for the idea for this post.
For more examples of why context matters, click here.
Perhaps you’ve come across the intriguing little story where it takes Jesus two tries to heal a blind man. After Jesus spits and lays hands on the blind man, the man can see, but people look like walking trees (Mark 8:23-24). Jesus tries a second time, and the man can finally see everything clearly (Mark 8:25). Did Jesus struggle with this one? Did he require more practice to get it right? Or could this be an example of an oral tradition slipping past editors, who otherwise had worked hard to portray a fictional Jesus to fit their preconceived notions regarding his character and claims to divinity?
Context matters. If we learn to read the Bible for what it is—and not as a random assortment of disconnected episodes—we’ll discover that some of the trickiest passages make a lot more sense than we thought.
We find the passage in question in Mark 8:22-26, which has no parallel in the other gospels. People in Bethsaida bring their blind friend to Jesus. Jesus leads him by the hand outside the village. He spits on the eyes and asks whether the man sees anything. He touches him a second time, “and he opened his eyes, his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly” (Mark 8:25). Jesus then sends him home, prohibiting him from re-entering the village.
We don’t need to speculate in a think tank about why it took Jesus two tries, as the context likely provides the clues we need. I have two theories for your consideration. If we zoom out to catch the flow of Mark’s argument, we’ll find help both before this passage and after it.
This story, along with the following one (Mark 8:27-30), concludes a major section of Mark’s gospel. Our structural hint comes from the bookends (known also as an inclusio) of guesses about Jesus’ true identity.
When Herod hears of the disciples preaching two by two across the countryside, he hears some people saying John the Baptist has been raised from the dead. Others think he is Elijah, while yet others consider him a prophet, like one of the prophets of old (Mark 6:14-15). And the 12 disciples have apparently heard exactly the same three guesses: “John the Baptist; and others say, Elijah; and others, one of the prophets” (Mark 8:28). This repetition provides us with bookends to help us see that Mark is making a coherent argument through these chapters.
So what is that argument?
Jesus has big ministry plans for these 12 men. He sends them out with his own authority to preach, heal, and exorcise unclean spirits (Mark 6:7-13). Yet at the height of their effectiveness, we’re reminded through flashback of what happened the last time a man of God got the attention of important people (Mark 6:14-29). This does not bode well for the disciples.
When they return to Jesus, he embarks with them on a rigorous curriculum of training.
Through this section, many people begin to understand who Jesus is. The Gentile woman understands his bread metaphor and submits herself to his will (Mark 7:28). Sick people touch only the fringe of his garment and are made well (Mark 6:56). From astonishment, many claim that he has done all things well (Mark 7:37).
But the disciples? They see all this, yet “they did not understand about the loaves, but their hearts were hardened” (Mark 6:52).
So Jesus takes them through his training course a second time:
This time, however, we don’t have anyone who begins to understand who Jesus is. Not even the twelve disciples. They can’t imagine where they’ll get enough bread to feed these people (Mark 8:4). They completely misinterpret Jesus’ bread metaphor (Mark 8:16). And Mark makes explicit the fact that they can neither see nor hear (Mark 8:18). In other words, they do not yet understand who he is (Mark 8:21).
But Jesus can heal the deaf (Mark 7:31-37). And he can heal the blind (Mark 8:22-26). Perhaps his two attempts to train the disciples will pay off and enable them to see clearly.
After the blindness is healed… “Who do you say that I am?”
“You are the Christ” (Mark 8:29).
So the first theory about why it took Jesus two tries to heal the blind man is to provide a picture, a living parable, of his two tries to heal the disciples’ spiritual blindness. Their sight of Jesus is fuzzy for a while. But after two complete training cycles, they see clearly in declaring him to be the Christ.
The passage immediately following the healing of the blind man shows Peter declaring Jesus’ identity as the Christ, or Messiah. He sees something important about Jesus, that Mark wanted us to see from the first sentence (see Mark 1:1).
But Mark also wants us to know that Peter’s sight remains fuzzy. He sees a Messiah, but not exactly the kind of Messiah that God wants him to see. When Jesus begins describing his coming suffering, rejection, death, and resurrection, he does so plainly (Mark 8:31-32). No more parables or confusing metaphors. And Peter promptly rebukes him (Mark 8:32).
Jesus then spends the next 2 chapters helping them to see more clearly what kind of Messiah he must be. Not the conqueror they expect, but the servant who suffers and dies. Not a tree of life walking around, but a Son of Man coming to serve and give his life (Mark 10:45). Jesus must explain these things 3 times (Mark 8:31, 9:31, 10:33-34) and illustrate them vividly through word and deed (raising a demon-possessed boy who fell as one dead, welcoming the typically unwelcome children, turning aside the one who refuses to sell his possessions, etc.).
So the second theory about why it took Jesus two tries to heal the blind man is to provide a picture, a living parable, of the two stages of sight the disciples must go through to understand who Jesus is. Yes, he is the Lord’s Messiah. But you must also see clearly that he is a suffering and dying Messiah.
It is no accident that this section of the gospel ends with another healing of another blind man, who immediately recovers his sight and the follows Jesus “on the way” (Mark 10:52), having lost his “life” by throwing off his cloak (Mark 10:50) so he might gain true life with Jesus.
I’m not sure which theory is the best one. Both do justice to the surrounding material and to the flow of Mark’s argument. And perhaps we don’t have to pick only one theory. Couldn’t it be possible that Mark had both ideas in mind as he wove together his glorious account of our Messiah?
Context matters.
For more examples of why context matters, such as the widow’s mite, the love chapter, and all things work together for good, click here.
And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth. (John 1:14)
John saw fit to introduce his portrait of Jesus in this way, and you might be among those blessed for believing it, without having personally seen it (John 20:29). But do you know what this means? Do you? It means you are ceremonially pure and holy, without trace of defilement from your past choices. It means you were not irrevocably disqualified by the abuse you suffered. It means God remembers you daily and singles you out for particular affection. It means you shine with his glory, your nakedness has been adequately clothed, and your life is never really in question.
But how can this be so?
In the prologue to his Gospel, John clearly has two things in mind: the creation of the world and the tabernacle of Moses. I’ll come back to the creation in a bit, but let me list the evidence for my latter claim:
So John clearly has Moses’ tabernacle in mind from the start, at least in the paragraph of John 1:14-18.
John doesn’t stop alluding to the tabernacle after that intro paragraph. Not only does he make explicit reference to Jesus’ body as a new temple (John 2:19-21), but he also develops many themes from the tabernacle description in Exodus. I’ve been working through the book of Exodus with some sample Bible studies. Now that I’ve gotten to the end of the tabernacle instructions, it’s a good time to reflect on how John uses this material for his purposes.
Many have taken note of the seven “I am” statements throughout John’s Gospel. But have you ever noticed their connection to Moses’ tabernacle, at least for the first few?
Eric Golub (2012), Creative Commons
I confess the connection is either absent or much less clear with “the resurrection and the life” (John 11:25-26), “the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6) and “the true vine” (John 15:1). But the Exodus/tabernacle imagery never really goes away in the narrative.
And then, at the story’s climax, John paints a picture of a new Holy of Holies, with a new mercy seat—the place where Jesus’ body had lain—all decked out with two angels, one on one side, and one on the other (John 20:12). Don’t miss the allusion to the ark of the covenant! Full access has now been granted to God’s people. Not to a high priest on a high holy day, but to a woman who loved her lord (and to the rest of us who likewise love him). We have now truly seen his glory, full of grace and truth.
I write these things not to amaze you with elusive mysteries or secret knowledge. I do it simply because we’re usually not familiar enough with the tabernacle narratives to catch the allusions.
And let me take it one more step. Through my study of Exodus, I’ve been arguing that the tabernacle is pictured as a re-creation of the world, a starting over of God’s people in relationship with their Father. If we were already familiar with this idea from Exodus, we would quickly see John trace out the same connection.
John is concerned from chapter 1 with not only the tabernacle but also the creation.
So when we reach the story’s climax, we have not only a new Holy of Holies (John 20:12), but also a new Man and a new Woman in a Garden, drawing near to God and preparing to rule and subdue the earth (John 20:15-18).
Please let these things motivate you when you hit the hard parts of the Bible, such as the tabernacle instructions. They’re here for a reason, and, if you have eyes to see, they will explain marvelous things about the person and work of Christ. When you read that the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, make sure to step back and get a clear handle on what it really means.
I appreciate Jen Oshman’s brief reflection on women’s books and Bible studies. And, as with most good advice for women, it’s not just for women.
If that Christian book on your nightstand or if your women’s bible study points you back to you, then may I please encourage you to put it down and give it some thought?
Writing for Logos Bible software, Mark Ward summarizes an article from a recent theological journal, explaining the unhelpful extreme side of “Christ-centeredness.”
I think the swing [away from Christ-less moralizing] has done great good: American Christianity has indeed suffered under man-centered readings of the Bible which offer all law and no gospel, all duty and no delight, all rules and no relationship. And yet the ease with which I just tossed off those three slogans points to the pendulum problem: any time a movement reaches the slogan-generating stage, people will go trampling over necessary nuances to grab their party’s banners and wave them at their enemies. Pretty soon the pendulum picks up so much speed that it whooshes way past plumb.
Ward then summarizes a theological journal article which analyzes Psalm 15 and shows us how to read it in its original context. There ought to be a category in our thinking for “meaningful if imperfect obedience,” as we see on the part of Noah, Simeon, and others. Being Christ-centered does not mean we speak only of our sins and failures.
Check it out!
Many who study the Bible get so focused on each passage, one after another, that they find it difficult to step back and see how they fit together. But we must remember the Bible is a work of literature. It was not written to be scrutinized in bites; it was written to be devoured in gobbles. We should remember to read the Bible as we’d read any other book: moving through it at a reasonable pace, and recognizing ongoing themes, climax and resolution, and character development. When we hit milestones in the text, we should take the opportunity to survey where we’ve been and how it fits together.
Mark Stevens (2013), Creative Commons
So, now that we’ve reached the beginning of the end for Pharaoh, it’s a good time to catch our breath. Last week, I mentioned that from Exodus 7:8 to the end, Moses has no further relapses into doubt. And we should notice that Exodus 7:8 begins the long series of brutal confrontations that result in Pharaoh and his army meeting their end in the Red Sea (chapter 14), to the great delight and celebration of the Hebrews (chapter 15). But where have we been so far?
Let me list the main points I’ve proposed for each section:
In addition, my overview of the whole book led me to this overall main point:
Who is Yahweh, and why should you obey him? He is the God who 1) demolishes the house of slavery (Ex 1-15), 2) prepares to rebuild (Ex 16-18), and 3) builds his house in the midst of his people (Ex 19-40).
Now what does this show us about the flow of thought in chapters 1-7?
In a sense, these early chapters of Exodus serve as Moses’ boot camp. These chapters show us how much it matters to God to make sure his mediator is fully qualified and trained for the task of deliverance. And this boot camp serves as Part 1 of the book’s first act, the demolition of the house of slavery.
We can flesh out our outline of the book a little further:
Act I: Yahweh demolishes the house of slavery (Ex 1-15).
Introduction: Nobody can prevent Yahweh from keeping his promises, but we’re not sure how he’ll do it (Ex 1).
Part 1: Yahweh appoints a mediator and ensures he is fully qualified and trained for the task of deliverance (Ex 2:1-7:7).
Part 2: ??? [We’ll begin studying this part in a few weeks.]
Act II: Yahweh prepares to rebuild (Ex 16-18).
Act III: Yahweh builds his house in the midst of his people (Ex 19-40).
I hope you can already see the many connections to the work of Christ:
Did you ever realize how much Jesus went through to win you? He couldn’t just snap his fingers to forgive your sins. He had some serious work to do—all to ensure he would be fully qualified and trained to serve as your mediator and high priest.
Marvel at this God who would become a man to do this for you!
Now you represent him to your world. Don’t expect it to be easy. As God sends you out to rescue sinners by preaching the gospel to all nations, he’s not yet finished with you. In fact, he’s probably just getting started on you. Some of your most significant growth in Christ will come only after you accept the call to go out and bring Christ to others. But God sent his Spirit to qualify and train you to this task.
Click here to see what I’m doing with this sample Bible study and why I’m doing it.
David Murray reflects on a a sermon he recently heard, and how the preacher excelled at preaching the narrative of Naaman the leprous Syrian, in 2 Kings 5. When the preacher shared his secrets, the following suggestions came out:
These are great suggestions for anyone who wants to teach biblical narratives, whether through sermons, classes, or small groups. Murray’s brief reflections are worth reading, and he embeds a video of the sermon that triggered his reflections.
In “How the Bible Came Alive,” Rebecca Davis describes her experience reading Psalm 22 and learning to take her eyes off herself to see Christ. I appreciate her account of learning to follow the text wherever it would lead her.
What happened to me over the course of those two weeks — studying sounds far too academic. Meditating these days can have New-Age overtones. Pondering the Scriptures? Soaking in the Scriptures? But really the point isn’t what I did with the Scriptures. It’s what God did in me through them, as he held them up as a magnifying glass to see the Lord Jesus Christ more and more clearly.
James Demetrie (2010), Creative Commons
When you read the Old Testament, I hope you’re looking for Jesus. Otherwise, you’re in danger of sucking from the fountain without first pushing the button to get the water flowing (John 5:39-40).
But many are afraid of getting it wrong, and for good reason. We see no lack of grumpy scholars waiting eagerly to dispense demerits to the simple, uneducated folk who draw superficial conclusions and chase christological apparitions through the pages of Hebrew Scripture. We outgrew the Alexandrians long ago, and we’re tired of hearing about the blood of Jesus—I mean Rahab’s scarlet cord—every time a newbie gets a hankering to Jesusify his devotional life.
I’ll confess I’ve served my time as one of the grumps. And I’ve been known to chase an apparition or two. Is help available?
I recently came across a valuable quote about the nature of biblical typology. Before I give you the quote, however, let me define a few terms. Trust me; it’ll be worth it.
Len Matthews (2014), Creative Commons
So, when Paul says “the Rock was Christ” (1 Cor 10:4), he recognizes typology. The rock from which Moses drew water was a type that pictured Christ the antitype who gives living water. Paul suggests that Moses wrote of this typical Rock in order to typify what Jesus would later do.
Now that you have the lingo, you’re ready for the quote:
A type can never be a type independently of its being first a symbol. The gateway to the house of typology is at the farther end of the house of symbolism.
This is the fundamental rule to be observed in ascertaining what elements in the Old Testament are typical, and wherein the things corresponding to them as antitypes consist. Only after having discovered what a thing symbolizes, can we legitimately proceed to put the question what it typifies, for the latter can never be aught else than the former lifted to a higher plane. The bond that holds type and antitype together must be a bond of vital continuity in the progress of redemption. Where this is ignored, and in the place of this bond are put accidental resemblances, void of inherent spiritual significance, all sorts of absurdities will result, such as must bring the whole subject of typology into disrepute. Examples of this are: the scarlet cord of Rahab prefigures the blood of Christ; the four lepers at Samaria, the four Evangelists. (Geerhardus Vos, Biblical Theology, Carlisle, PA: Banner of Truth, 1948, pp. 145-6)
Vos goes on to use the example of the tabernacle in Exodus. The tabernacle clearly symbolized God’s presence among his people, and this symbol was clear to the original audience of Exodus. We can take that symbol (God dwelling with his people) and look to the New Testament for its development and fulfillment. Jesus is the new tabernacle, the Word become flesh who dwells among us (John 1:14). His body is the new temple (John 2:19-22). He is Emmanuel, God with us (Matt 1:22-23). He is with us to the end of the age (Matt 28:20).
And with his Spirit in us, we are also God’s new tabernacle/temple, both individually (1 Cor 6:19) and corporately (Eph 2:21-22, 1 Tim 3:15). So the Old Testament tabernacle is a type of both Christ and his body, and the pathway to recognizing the type is to first recognize the original symbol.
Vos is on to something here, but I think he overstates it a bit. He goes too far to require a type to first be a symbol in the Old Testament passage. By his definition, Paul would be wrong about the Rock in 1 Cor 10:4 (since it doesn’t clearly symbolize anything in the book of Exodus).
However, Vos uncovers useful boundaries that prevent us from befriending the deep end of typological interpretation.
