I wrote this seven years ago, December 26th, 2004. I am reposting it with some minor changes.

When the Word became flesh, he emptied himself by adding to himself. Jesus undressed himself by dressing himself. He “made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men.” (Philippians 2:7) Jesus humbled and emptied and undressed himself completely, not by subtracting his divine nature from himself, but by adding human nature to himself. His human nature did not take away from the fullness of his deity, nor did his deity bleed over into his humanity, making him a sort of superman. He is forevermore 100% God and 100% man. Nothing less than full, eternal deity, and nothing more than a created, dependent human being with flesh and bones. He is not merely a man (he is a God-man), but his humanity is just that: mere humanity.

This is a hard thing to know, because the persons we interact with daily have essentially one nature: human. The person of Jesus Christ has two natures, and both are worth celebrating. Listen to what John says about the natures of Christ:

“That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we looked upon and have touched with our hands, concerning the word of life—the life was made manifest, and we have seen it, and testify to it and proclaim to you the eternal life, which was with the Father and was made manifest to us—that which we have seen and heard we proclaim also to you, so that you too may have fellowship with us; and indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ. And we are writing these things so that our joy may be complete.” (1 John 1:1)

When John wanted to increase fellowship with others and complete their joy, he wrote a letter about theology, which included the humanity of Jesus. I hope I can read this for the same effect. Here are 7 aspects of the humanity of Christ I want to glory over.

Jesus had to grow and learn.

He did not automatically know the Word of God, he did not immediately and comprehensively know what he was going to do, and he did not know our name on the cross. He had to learn through the same resources for learning that we have. He studied the Torah and memorized and meditated and asked questions and prayed for wisdom and prayed for the Holy Spirit and put everything into practice. “The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom.” (Luke 2:40) “Jesus increased in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and man.” (Luke 2:52)

Jesus needed fellowship, angels, and the Holy Spirit.

When Jesus was baptized, the Spirit of God descended like a dove and came to rest on him (Matthew 3:16). Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness for forty days, being tempted by the devil (Matthew 4:1). After the great temptations, angels came and ministered to him (Matthew 4:11). When he went to Gethsemane to pray, he took with him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee  (Matthew 26:37). He said to them, “Remain here, and watch [or ‘keep awake’] with me.”  An angel appeared to Him from heaven, strengthening Him (Luke 22:43). Jesus needed this all, just as we would need it.

Jesus did his supernatural miracles by faith with the power and authority of the Holy Spirit.

When Jesus walked on water and healed the sick and demon-possessed, Jesus wasn’t borrowing from the power of his own deity. He wasn’t switching back and forth from one nature to the other. He was living as a human being, empowered by the Holy Spirit to do the same types of works that his disciples would do. When he walked on water, he was doing what Peter failed to do. He rebuked him, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” (Matthew 14:31) Jesus said himself, “If you have faith like a grain of mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move, and nothing will be impossible for you.” (Matthew 17:20) “Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever believes in me will also do the works that I do; and greater works than these will he do, because I am going to the Father.” (John 14:12)

Jesus’ miracles were proof of his human righteousness.

His miracles were not a direct proof of his deity. If that were so, the apostles would be gods. The miracles testified to the fact that he had been given the authority from God. Do you remember when the Pharisees chided the man Jesus had given sight, scoffing that they didn’t know where Jesus was from? The blind man responded:

“Why, this is an amazing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but if anyone is a worshiper of God and does his will, God listens to him… If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.” (John 9;30)

Jesus claimed himself to be the great “I AM”, existing before Abraham and having the very glory of the Father. If he were lying, God would not have endowed him with such authority. The whole panorama of his miracles testified to the fact that God did give such authority to Jesus, so he must not have been a liar. The miracles do end up pointing to his deity, but in an intermediate way. First and foremost, his miracles showed that God listened to and gave authority to Jesus, a non-sinner.

Jesus lived perfectly and never sinned.

This means that Jesus was the most human human that ever lived. Humans were never designed to sin. God created us to bear his image. Jesus did this perfectly, making him the most authentic, most fully human person in the universe. Jesus embraced the God-given directive to be human, not by giving into sin, but by reflecting the glory of God (Hebrews 4:15).

“The key to understanding the duality of Christ’s human nature and His sinlessness is understanding that sin, as part of the human condition, is not the normal condition. God did not create us as sinners, but as a result of the fall, sin has marred our lives. Christ’s sinlessness is made clear in Scripture, from His 40 days in the desert, where Satan tempted Christ but failed to entice him in to sin, to the time of the beginning of His ministry where”the favor of God was upon Him” (Luke 2:40).” (Wayne Grudem, Systematic Theology, ch. 26)

Jesus suffered the increasing pressure of temptation.

God kept the same promise to him as he keeps to us: “No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.” (1 Corinthians 10:13) God provided Jesus the same resources that he gives us to escape sin.

When we give into temptation, we make it easier by releasing the pressure of it, but harder to resist because we form sinful habits. When we resist it, it becomes harder because the pressure increases, and easier because we form character through endurance.

The same went for Jesus. “He learned obedience through what he suffered.” (Hebrews 5:8) We certainly “do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin.” (Hebrews 4:15) For Christians, it is best to find sympathy with Jesus, the great temptation-resister who knows the pressure, rather than an unbelieving sinner, who surrenders himself to all the pressures of temptation.

“No man knows how bad he is till he has tried very hard to be good. A silly idea is current that good people do not know what temptation means. This is an obvious lie. Only those who try to resist temptation know how strong it is. After all, you find out the strength of the German army by fighting against it, not by giving in. You find out the strength of a wind by trying to walk against it, not by lying down. A man who gives in to temptation after five minutes simply does not know what it would have been like an hour later. That is why bad people, in one sense, know very little about badness. They have lived a sheltered life by always giving in. We never find out the strength of the evil impulse inside us until we try to fight it: and Christ, because he was the only man who never yielded to temptation, is also the only man who knows to the full what temptation means—the only complete realist.” (C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity, 142)

Jesus was an emotional man.

Jesus had all the right feelings in his heart—all the ones we were meant to have. He cried over the death of Lazarus (Hebrews 11:35) and over the rebellion of Israel (Luke 13:34). He was happy and overjoyed and even startled over the faith of others. In a good way, Jesus was the most sorrowful human that even lived, because he saw the pangs and tragedies of sin and death and evil for what they were. He trembled at the thought of dying for the sins of his people. “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death… My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will… My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, your will be done.” (Matthew 26:38,39, 42) But his joy abounded. He was also the happiest human being that ever lived, because he was rooted in the love and delight of his Father and the fulfillment of his ministry and the coming resurrection when all things would be made right. “For the joy that was set before him he endured the cross, despising the shame.” (Hebrews 12:2) Just as our emotions aren’t simple, neither were his. When Jesus asked the Pharisees, “Is it lawful on the Sabbath to do good or to do harm, to save life or to kill?” they wouldn’t answer. He looked around at them with anger, and was at the same time grieved at their hardness of heart (Mark 3:4-5).

Let us not fall into the same errors of the first-century Gnostics. The Jesus Christ we worship and love is, at the same time, nothing less than full, eternal deity, and nothing more than a created, dependent human being with flesh and bones. He learned, he grew, he needed the Holy Spirit, he suffered the pressures of temptation, he never sinned, he utilized the same resources God gave us, he cried, and he was overjoyed. He was human!

“It is by far the most amazing miracle of the entire Bible-far more amazing than the resurrection and more amazing even than the creation of the universe. The fact that the infinite, omnipotent, eternal Son of God could become man and join himself to a human nature forever, so that infinite God became one person with finite man, will remain for eternity the most profound miracle and the most profound mystery in all the universe.” (Wayne Grudem, Systematic Theology; thanks to Ken Rice for providing this quote)

“By this you know the Spirit of God: every spirit that confesses that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God, and every spirit that does not confess Jesus is not from God.” (1 John 4:2)

Amen!

See also: Chalcedonian Creed

—

These words have generated a host of interpretations, the most important of which may be summarized as follows:

1) Noting that v. 6 describes two births, one from flesh to flesh and the other from Spirit to Spirit, some interpreters propose that ‘born of water and the Spirit’ similarly refers to two births, one natural and the other supernatural. Natural procreation is not enough; there must be a second birth, a second begetting, this one of the Spirit. To support this view, ‘water’ has been understood to refer to the amniotic fluid that breaks from the womb shortly before childbirth, or to stand meta­phorically for semen. But there are no ancient sources that picture natural birth as ‘from water’, and the few that use ‘drops’ to stand for semen are rare and late. It is true that in sources relevant to the Fourth Gospel water can be associated with fecundity and procreation in a general way (e.g. Song 4:12-13; Pr. 5:15-18),[1] but none is tied quite so clearly to semen or to amniotic fluid as to make the connection here an obvious one. The Greek construction does not favour two births here. Moreover the entire expression ‘of water and the Spirit’ cries out to be read as the equivalent of anōthen, ‘from above’, if there is genuine parallelism between v. 3 and v. 5, and this too argues that the expression should be taken as a reference to but one birth, not two.

2) Many find in ‘water’ a reference to Christian baptism (e.g. Brown, 2. 139-141). For Bultmann (pp. 138-139 n. 3) and others who have followed him, this is so embarrassing that he suggests the words ‘water and’ were not part of the original text, but added by a later ecclesiastical editor much more interested in Christian ritual than the Evangelist himself. There is no textual support for the omission. At the other end of the spectrum, Vellanickal (pp. 170ff.) suggests that when the Evangelist received this account there was no mention of water, but that he added it to provide an explicit reference to the rite of Christian initiation. Added or not, the simple word ‘water’ is understood by the majority of contemporary commentators to refer to Christian baptism, though there is little agreement amongst them on the relation between ‘water’ and ‘Spirit’. After all, reference is made in the near context to Jesus’ own baptismal ministry (3:22; 4:1), and John has connected water and Spirit in a baptismal context before (1:33, 34). Moreover John’s alleged interest in sacraments in ch. 6 encourages the suspicion he is making a sacra­mental allusion here. Many accordingly suggest the Spirit effects new birth through water (= baptism) (e.g. Ferraro, Spirito, pp. 59-67).

Those who adopt this position, of course, are forced to admit that John’s words could have had no relevance to the historical Nicodemus. This part of the account, at least, becomes a narrative fiction designed to instruct the church on the importance of baptism. What is not always recognized is that this theory makes the Evangelist an extraordinarily incompetent story-teller, since in v. 10 he pictures Jesus berating Nicodemus for not understanding these things. If water = baptism is so important for entering the kingdom, it is surprising that the rest of the discussion never mentions it again: the entire focus is on the work of the Spirit (v. 8), the work of the Son (vv. 14-15), the work of God himself (vv. 16-17), and the place of faith (vv. 15-16). The analogy between the mysterious wind and the sovereign work of the Spirit (v. 8) becomes very strange if Spirit-birth is tied so firmly to baptism. Some doubt if there is any explicit reference to the eucharist in John 6 (cf. notes on 6:25ff.), casting doubt on the supposition that the Evangelist is deeply interested in sacramental questions. If he were, it is surpassingly strange that he fails to make explicit connections, neglecting even to mention the institution of the Lord’s supper. The Spirit plays a powerful role in John 14 – 16; 20:22, but there is no hint of baptism. Moreover the allusions to Jesus’ baptismal activity (3:22; 4:1), far from fostering sacramentalism, explicitly divert attention elsewhere (cf. notes on 3:25-26; 4:2; 6:22ff.). The conjunction of water and Spirit in 1:26, 33 is no support for this position, as there the two are contrasted, whereas in 3:5 they are co-ordinated.

The entire view seems to rest on an unarticulated prejudice that every mention of water evoked instant recognition, in the minds of first- century readers, that the real reference was to baptism, but it is very doubtful that this prejudice can be sustained by the sources. Even so, this conclusion does not preclude the possibility of a secondary allusion to baptism (cf. notes, below).

3) A variation on this view is that ‘water’ refers not to Christian baptism but to John’s baptism (Godet, 2. 49-52; Westcott, 1. 108-109, and others). In that case, Jesus is either saying that the baptism of repentance, as important as it is, must not be thought sufficient: there must be Spirit-birth as well; or, if Nicodemus refused to be baptized by the Baptist, Jesus is rebuking him and saying that he must pass through repentance-baptism (‘water’) and new birth (‘Spirit’). ‘To receive the Spirit from the Messiah was no humiliation; on the contrary, it was a glorious privilege. But to go down into Jordan before a wondering crowd and own [his] need of cleansing and new birth was too much. Therefore to this Pharisee our Lord declares that an honest dying to the past is as needful as new life for the future’ (Dods, EGT, 1. 713).

The argument presupposes that John the Baptist was so influential at the time that a mere mention of water would conjure up pictures of his ministry. If so, however, the response of Nicodemus is inappropriate. If the allusion to the Baptist were clear, why should Nicodemus respond with such incredulity, ignorance and unbelief (3:4, 9-10, 12), rather than mere distaste or hardened arrogance? Even if John’s baptism is mentioned in near contexts, the burden of these contexts is to stress the relative unimportance of his rite (1: 23, 26; 3:23, 30). If John’s baptism lies behind ‘water’ in 3:5, would not this suggest that Jesus was making the Baptist’s rite a requirement for entrance into the kingdom, even though that rite was shortly to be superseded by Christian baptism? Moreover, as Dods sets out this proposed solution, it is assumed that Jesus is recognized as the Messiah who dispenses the Spirit, but it is far from clear that Nicodemus has progressed so far in his appreciation of Jesus.

4) Several interpreters have argued that Jesus is arguing against the ritual washings of the Essenes (a conservative and frequently monastic Jewish movement), or perhaps against Jewish ceremonies in general. What is necessary is Spirit-birth, not mere water-purification. But ‘water’ and ‘Spirit’ are not contrasted in v. 5: they are linked, and together become the equivalent of ‘from above’ (v. 3).

5) A number of less influential proposals have been advanced. Some have suggested that ‘water’ represents Torah (which can refer to the Pentateuch, or to the entire Jewish teaching and tradition about God, written and oral, or something between the two extremes). But though water is sometimes a symbol for Torah in rabbinic literature, ‘birth of water’ or the like does not occur. Moreover the stress in the Fourth Gospel is on the life-giving qualities of Jesus’ words (6:63); the Scriptures point to him (5:39). Odeberg (p. 50), Morris (pp. 216-218) and others have seen in ‘born of water and the Spirit’ an hendiadys for spiritual seed or semen, in contrast with semen of the flesh (v. 6). The entire expression refers to God’s engendering seed or efflux, cast over against the natural birth Nicodemus mentions in the preceding verse. But Odeberg’s supporting citations are both late and unconvincing, demanding that the reader (not to mention Nicodemus!) make numer­ous doubtful connections. Jesus’ indignation that Nicodemus had not grasped what he was saying (v. 10) suddenly sounds artificial and forced. Hodges has recently suggested that the two crucial terms, both without articles, should be rendered ‘water and wind’, together symbolizing God’s vivifying work,1 since Greek pneuma can mean ‘wind’ or ‘breath’ as well as ‘spirit’ (cf. notes on 3:8). But this fails to reckon with the fact that pneuma almost always means ‘spirit’ in the New Testament. Only very powerful contextual clues can compel another rendering: the presence or absence of the article is certainly not an adequate clue (cf. v. 8 where pneuma = ‘wind’ is articular). The word pneuma in the very next verse (v. 6) cannot easily be understood to mean anything other than ‘spirit’, and it is this consistent meaning that prepares the way for the analogical argument of v. 8, where wind symbolizes spirit.

The most plausible interpretation of ‘born of water and the Spirit’2 turns on three factors. First, the expression is parallel to ‘from above’ (anōthen, v. 3), and so only one birth is in view. Second, the preposition ‘of’ governs both ‘water° and ‘spirit’. The most natural way of taking this construction is to see the phrase as a conceptual unity: there is a water-spirit source (cf. Murray J. Harris, NIDNTT 3. 1178) that stands as the origin of this regeneration.3 Third, Jesus berates Nicodemus for not understanding these things in his role as ‘Israel’s teacher’ (v. 10), a senior ‘professor’ of the Scriptures, and this in turn suggests we must turn to what Christians call the Old Testament to begin to discern what Jesus had in mind.

Although the full construction ‘born of water and of the Spirit’ is not found in the Old Testament, the ingredients are there. At a minor level, the idea that Israel, the covenant community, was properly called ‘God’s son’ (Ex. 4:22; Dt. 32:6; Ho. 11:1) provides at least a little potential background for the notion of God ‘begetting’ people, enough, Brown thinks, that it should have enabled Nicodemus ‘to understand that Jesus was proclaiming the arrival of the eschatological times when men would be God’s children’ (1. 139). Far more important is the Old Testament background to ‘water’ and ‘spirit’. The ‘spirit’ is constantly God’s princi­ple of life, even in creation (e.g. Gn. 2:7; 6:3; Jb. 34:14); but many Old Testament writers look forward to a time when God’s ‘spirit’ will be poured out on humankind (Joel 2:28) with the result that there will be blessing and righteousness (Is. 32:15-20; 44:3; Ezk. 39:29), and inner renewal which cleanses God’s covenant people from their idolatry and disobedience (Ezk. 11:19-20; 36:26-27). When water is used figuratively in the Old Testament, it habitually refers to renewal or cleansing, especially when it is found in conjunction with ‘spirit’. This conjunction may be explicit, or may hide behind language depicting the ‘pouring out’ of the spirit (cf. Nu. 19:17-19; Ps. 51:9-10; Is. 32:15; 44:3-5; 55:1-3; Je. 2:13; 17:13; Ezk. 47:9; Joel 2:28-29; Zc. 14:8). Most important of all is Ezekiel 36:25-27, where water and spirit come together so forcefully, the first to signify cleansing from impurity, and the second to depict the transformation of heart that will enable people to follow God wholly. And it is no accident that the account of the valley of dry bones, where Ezekiel preaches and the Spirit brings life to dry bones, follows hard after Ezekiel’s water/spirit passage (cf. Ezk. 37; and notes on 3:8, below). The language is reminiscent of the ‘new heart’ expressions that revolve around the promise of the new covenant (Je. 31:29ff.). Similar themes were sometimes picked up in later Judaism (e.g. Jubilees 1:23-25).

In short, born of water and spirit (the article and the capital ‘S’ in the NIV should be dropped: the focus is on the impartation of God’s nature as ‘spirit’ [cf. 4:24], not on the Holy Spirit as such) signals a new begetting, a new birth that cleanses and renews, the eschatological cleansing and renewal promised by the Old Testament prophets. True, the prophets tended to focus on the corporate results, the restoration of the nation; but they also anticipated a transformation of individual ‘hearts’ — no longer hearts of stone but hearts that hunger to do God’s will. It appears that individual regeneration is presupposed. Apparently Nicodemus had not thought of the Old Testament passages this way. If he was like some other Pharisees, he was too confident of the quality of his own obedience to think he needed much repentance (cf. Lk. 7:30), let alone to have his whole life cleansed and his heart transformed, to be born again.

Some have argued that if the flow of the passage is anything like what has been described then it is hopelessly anachronistic, for John’s Gospel makes it abundantly clear (cf. esp. 7:37-39) that the Holy Spirit would not be given until after Jesus is glorified, and it is this Holy Spirit who must effect the new birth, even if the expression ‘born of water and spirit’ does not refer to the Holy Spirit per se. So how then can Jesus demand of Nicodemus such regeneration?

The charge is ill-conceived. Jesus is not presented as demanding that Nicodemus experience the new birth in the instant; rather, he is force­fully articulating what must be experienced if one is to enter the king­dom of God. The resulting tension is no different from the corresponding Synoptic tension as to when the kingdom dawns. In Matthew, for instance, Jesus is born the King (Mt. 1— 2), he announces the kingdom and performs the powerful works of the kingdom (4:17; 12:28), but it is not until he has arisen from the dead that all authority becomes his (28:18-20). That is why all discipleship in all four Gospels is inevitably transitional. The coming-to-faith of the first followers of Jesus was in certain respects unique: they could not instantly become ‘Chris­tians’ in the full-orbed sense, and experience the full sweep of the new birth, until after the resurrection and glorification of Jesus. If we take the Gospel records seriously, we must conclude that Jesus sometimes pro­claimed truth the full significance and application of which could be fully appreciated and experienced only after he had risen from the dead. John 3 falls under this category.

It appears, then, that the passage makes good sense within the historical framework set out for us, i .e . as a lesson for Nicodemus within the context of the ministry of Jesus. But we must also ask how John expected his readers to understand it. If his targeted readers were hellenistic Jews and Jewish proselytes who had been exposed to Christianity and whom John was trying to evangelize (cf. Introduction, § VI, and notes on 20:30-31), then his primary message for them is clear. No matter how good their Jewish credentials, they too must be born again if they are to see or enter the kingdom of God. When John wrote this, Christian baptism had been practised for several decades (which was of course not the case when Jesus spoke with Nicodemus). If (and it is a quite uncertain ‘if’) the Evangelist expected his readers to detect some secondary allusion to Christian baptism in v. 5 (cf. Richter, Studien, pp. 327-345), the thrust of the passage treats such an allusion quite distantly. What is emphasized is the need for radical transformation, the fulfilment of Old Testament promises anticipating the outpouring of the Spirit, and not a particular rite. If baptism is associated in the readers’ minds with entrance into the Christian faith, and therefore with new birth, then they are being told in the strongest terms that it is the new birth itself that is essential, not the rite.’

[1] For a defense of this first option, cf. Ben Witherington III, NTS 35, 1989, pp. 155-160; Morris, JC, pp. 150-151.

Quoting from the lecture:

“This was in the Goodridge case, which required the state of Massachusetts to extend marriage to same-sex couples. The court started out… well, the court was conflicted. If you read that opinion carefully, the court was conflicted as between the two positions we’ve just been hearing, defended by Andréa and by Dan. The Court begins– and this is Chief Justice Margaret Marhsall’s opinion– it begins with an attempt at liberal neutrality. In other words, at issue is not the moral worth of the choice, but the right of the individual to make it. So this is the liberal neutral strand in the court opinion; the voluntarist strand, the one that emphasizes autonomy, choice, consent. But the court seemed to realize that the liberal case, the neutral case for recognizing same-sex marriage doesn’t succeed, doesn’t get you all the way to that position. Because if it were only a matter of respect for individual autonomy, if government were truly neutral on the moral worth of voluntary intimate relationships, then it should adopt a different policy, which is to remove government and the state altogether from according recognition to certain associations, certain kinds of unions rather than others. If government really must be neutral, then the consistent position is what we here have been describing as the third position– the one defended in the article by Michael Kinsley, who argues for the abolition of marriage, at least as a state function. Perhaps a better term for this is the disestablishment of religion. This is Kinsley’s proposal. He points out that the reason for the opposition to same-sex marriage is that it would go beyond neutral toleration and give same-sex marriage a government stamp of approval. That’s at the heart of the dispute. In Aristotle’s terms, at issue here is the proper distribution of offices and honors; a matter of social recognition. Same-sex marriage can’t be justified on the basis of liberal neutrality or non-discrimination or autonomy rights alone, because the question at stake in the public debate is whether same-sex unions have moral worth, whether they’re worthy of honor and recognition, and whether they fit the purpose of the social institution of marriage. So Kinsley says, ‘You want to be neutral?’ This is Kinsley. But this is not the position that the Supreme Judicial Court of Massachusetts wanted. They didn’t call for the abolition or for the disestablishment of marriage. The court did not question government’s role in conferring social recognition on some intimate associations rather than others. To the contrary, the court waxes eloquent about marriage as, ‘One of our community’s most rewarding and cherished institutions,’ and then it goes on to expand the definition of marriage to include partners of the same sex. And in doing so, it acknowledges that marriage is more than a matter of tolerating choices that individuals make; it’s also a matter of social recognition and honor. As Justice Marshall wrote: This is the court. Now, this is reaching well beyond liberal neutrality. This is celebrating and affirming marriage as an honorific, as a form of public recognition, and therefore, the court found that it couldn’t avoid the debate about the telos of marriage. Justice Marshall’s opinion considers and rejects the notion that the primary purpose of marriage is procreation. She points out that there’s no requirement that applicants for a marriage license who are heterosexuals attest to their ability or their intention to conceive children. Fertility is not a condition of marriage. People who cannot stir from their death bed may marry. So she advances all kinds of arguments, along the lines that we began last time, about what the proper end, the essential nature, the telos of marriage is. And she concludes: Now, nothing I’ve said about this court opinion is an argument for or against same-sex marriage, but it is an argument against the claim that you can favor or oppose same-sex marriage while remaining neutral on the underlying moral and religious questions. So all of this is to suggest that at least in some of the hotly contested debates about justice and rights that we have in our society, the attempt to be neutral, the attempt to say, ‘It’s just a matter of consent and choice and autonomy; we take no stand,’ that doesn’t succeed. Even the court, which wants to be neutral on these moral and religious disputes, finds that it can’t.”

Space is a place
To be near
Presence is a grace
To touch and hear

Pitter, patter
Creak
Thud!
“MOMMY, I NEED SOME HELP!”

Tip-toe, tip-toe
Slide
Tug
“Daddy, I want some milk.”

Shuffle, twist
Tweak
Turn
“Honey, can you please be still? I’m trying to sleep.”

Then read this:

“God is the ultimate musician. His music transforms your life. The notes of redemption rearrange your heart and restore your life. His songs of forgiveness, grace, reconciliation, truth, hope, sovereignty, and love give you back your humanity and restore your identity.” – Paul David Tripp

1. Copy the text from here.
2. Create a new bookmark in Google Chrome and paste the text into the URL.
3. Go to the admin page that lists users from your Facebook group and click the bookmarklet.
4. When you are directed to the next page of users, click it again.
5. To speed up the process even more, use multiple tabs on different pages.

For those interested, here is the code (I minified it using YUI Compressor for the bookmarklet):

function confirmDeleteUser() {
	confirmButton = document.querySelector('.uiButton.uiButtonLarge.uiButtonConfirm input');
	if(!confirmButton) {
		setTimeout('deleteAllUsersInGroup()',200);
		return;
	}
	mouseClickEvent = document.createEvent('MouseEvent');
	mouseClickEvent.initMouseEvent('click',true,true);
	confirmButton.dispatchEvent(mouseClickEvent);
	setTimeout('deleteAllUsersInGroup()',200);
}

function switchPage() {
	pageButton = document.querySelector('.next.uiButton:not(.uiButtonDisabled)');
	if(!pageButton) {
		pageButton = document.querySelector('.prev.uiButton:not(.uiButtonDisabled)');
	}
	if(!pageButton) {
		return
	}
	mouseClickEvent = document.createEvent('MouseEvent');
	mouseClickEvent.initMouseEvent('click',true,true);
	pageButton.dispatchEvent(mouseClickEvent);
}

function deleteAllUsersInGroup() {
	/* I pick a random user to account for some quirks in the process */
	deleteButtons = document.querySelectorAll('a.UIImageBlock_Ext.uiCloseButton.uiCloseButtonSmall');
	if(!deleteButtons.length) {
		setTimeout('confirmDeleteUser()',500); /* Usually one last dialog to clear */
		setTimeout('switchPage()',1500);
		return;
	}
	deleteButton = deleteButtons.item(Math.floor(Math.random() * deleteButtons.length))
	mouseClickEvent = document.createEvent('MouseEvent');
	mouseClickEvent.initMouseEvent('click',true,true);
	deleteButton.dispatchEvent(mouseClickEvent);
	deleteButton.parentNode.parentNode.removeChild(deleteButton.parentNode)
	setTimeout('confirmDeleteUser()',200);
};
deleteAllUsersInGroup();

“Like Isaiah surprised by the presence of the Lord in His Temple, who confessed both that he was a man of unclean lips and a part of a people of unclean lips (Isaiah 6:5), those coming to John for baptism were confessing both that theirs was a sinful, adulterous, and unbelieving generation (Mark 8:38; 9:19), and that they personally had participated in it’s sin, adultery, and unbelief. They were admitting that they were still under bondage in Egypt, though Moses had led them out of it so many centuries ago…

“By making the pilgrimage to the Jordan, those who believed John’s message showed that they wanted to be visibly separated from those under judgment when the Lord came. They wanted to be members of the future purified Israel. Undergoing John’s baptism helped them anticipate that they were not only God’s covenant people, but that they would remain in that covenant after God cast others out. In order to be assured that they would be included in the future forgiven Israel whose iniquity would be removed, they needed to repent and ask for personal forgiveness now.” (Mark Hornes, Victory According to Mark, pp. 26, 27, link)

In Romans 2:13 I would argue that the term “justified” is referring to vindication at final judgment. This also is a legal declaration, but in this case really is pointing to moral transformation that has happened within me. I think this is more of the sense that we see in James 2:21-26 as well. Declarative vindication of inward transformation. On a related note, I personally reject the popular Protestant wholesale hypothetical reading of Romans 2. I don’t think it is necessary for preserving the doctrine of justification by faith apart from works in subsequent chapters.

What is interesting is that neither of these usages of “justified” entail any kind of transformation in the act of justification itself. There is no doubt transformation by the Spirit, i.e. circumcision of the heart, in a justified person, but just as the “guilty” or “not guilty” verdict in a courtroom doesn’t behaviorally transform one into a guilty or righteous person, so also justification itself is not an act of transformation. Hence the strong justification/sanctification distinction historic Protestants make. Inseparable but distinct.

These could be two of the most important paragraphs on the gospel I have ever written, so please read them closely:

The distinction is good news because it means Christ justifies the ungodly by faith, i.e. counts the ungodly as godly, counts sinners as sinless, counts the unrighteous as perfectly righteous. The inseparability is good news because it secures my verdict at final judgment where my heart-orientation and secret works will be courtroom evidence of who I am.

In the end, only those justified by faith apart from works of the law truly become doers of the heart of the law. It is one of the most life-or-death ironies in the universe, which some will celebrate forever in heaven, and others will curse forever in hell: If you work for forgiveness to preserve the necessity of holiness, Christ will neither forgive you nor make you holy. Yet if you stop working for forgiveness, and instead receive it as a free gift, God both forgives you and necessarily and inevitably makes you holy.

“He will render to each one according to his works: to those who by patience in well-doing seek for glory and honor and immortality, he will give eternal life; but for those who are self-seeking and do not obey the truth, but obey unrighteousness, there will be wrath and fury.” (Romans 2:6-8)

“Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God.” (Romans 5:1-2)

“Now to the one who works, his wages are not counted as a gift but as his due. And to the one who does not work but believes in him who justifies the ungodly, his faith is counted as righteousness, just as David also speaks of the blessing of the one to whom God counts righteousness apart from works: ‘Blessed are those whose lawless deeds are forgiven,and whose sins are covered! Blessed is the man against whom the Lord will not count his sin.’” (Romans 4:4-8)

Is this grace too good to be true? Can it be, Lord, can it really be?