The Beginning of Time

When we think about eternity, we often appeal to the following schema: God has always existed; at some point He decided to bring the universe into existence; one day the universe will cease to exist and God (and we) will go on existing forever. As a working model, this synopsis is accurate; it captures more or less what we need to know in order to maintain an operational understanding of creation, salvation, and everything. However, it is inaccurate in a subtle yet important way.

What the model neglects is that the creation of the universe was also the creation of time. Since there is no time outwith the universe, it makes no sense to speak of what existed ‘before’ the universe, or what will exist ‘after’ the universe. It is therefore imprecise to say that God existed ‘before’ the universe was created, that the universe came into existence at some ‘point in time’, or that God (and we) will continue to exist ‘after’ the universe no longer does. These are meaningless statements; to borrow from C.S. Lewis, they refer not to impossibilities – since with God all things are possible – but rather to non-possibilities.

For some reason[1], it is easier for us to understanding this point if we formulate the statements in terms of space rather than time. God obviously does not just exist ‘outside’ of the universe – you wouldn’t reach Heaven if you travelled to the edge of the universe and kept on going, or even if you found some way to travel between multiple universes, dimensions, or whatever. Rather, He exists in altogether distinct, non-spatial reality. As Einstein and others have shown, moreover, what is true for space is also, and necessarily, true for time.

In truth, it is difficult to escape a spatial-temporal perspective, since, as physical beings, we exist within the confines of space-time and conceptualise existence accordingly. This is evident in our vocabulary, as even this blog post attests. Although I am attempting to reason that God exists ‘outside’ of space itself and existed ‘before’ time itself, even the very adjectives, verbs, and nouns that I employ in order to do so are predicated on a fallacious universality of space and time. We can at least say, though, that whereas the universe is spatial and temporal, God is not. This is why God is the Great I AM (Exodus 3), and why Jesus claimed that “before Abraham, I AM” (John 8) – not I was, but I AM[2].

Indeed, I would submit that all of this admittedly abstract and seemingly pedantic deliberation actually helps us to grasp – or, at least, helps us to grasp why we cannot grasp – the nature of God. For example, a common (and powerful) Christian argument is that the universe must have been created since it could not have existed forever nor come into existence by itself. The obvious counterargument is that the same would be true for God, leading to an infinite regress. When we take the foregoing analysis into account, however, it becomes clear that God is not eternal in the sense of time going on forever; He is eternal in the sense of being outside of space-time; and since He is outside of space-time, it is not surprising that His existence is eternal[3]. For the same reason, it is not surprising that God never changes, and that He is everywhere at the same time. To be sure, these phenomena are astonishing, but only because we cannot grasp existence outside of space and time. Indeed, the miracle of the Gospel is precisely that God came into space-time to participate in, overcome, and redeem our fallen reality.

Notes:

[1] I would speculate that, when we think of a non-physical (i.e. spiritual) reality, we implicitly (and inaccurately) think of another ‘place’ – perhaps a place that is infinitely far away, or a place that cannot be reached by the usual means, but a place nonetheless. There seems to be no analogous method for thinking about time.

[2] Incidentally, the Jehovah’s Witness bible modifies this verse so that Jesus does in fact say “I was” rather than “I AM” – clearly a dishonest contrivance to downplay the divinity of Jesus. Indeed, it is not even a particularly well-thought-out contrivance, since it leaves unexplained why Jesus’ Jewish listeners would be offended by His statement to the point of seeking to stone Him.

[3] In the context of this post, a useful distinction might be made between ‘eternal’ and ‘everlasting’. Indeed, to my limited understanding, this distinction is often the subject of discussion between Bible translators. Such a discussion, however, would take us too far afield.

Free Will, Quantum Physics, and the Garden of Gethsemane

Free will is a perennially controversial topic. How is that only some are predestined and yet all are judged, for example? How is that God can “harden” Pharaoh’s heart and yet hold him accountable for his actions? Ditto for Judas and other villains, whose actions were prophesied before they took place? Recently, however, my intellectual difficulties with free will have specifically centred on the realisation that, when somebody makes a decision, they ultimately do so for a reason.

Let’s say I do something wrong. Why did I do what I did? A reasonable answer to that question cannot be provided without negating the idea of free will, for once you identify a cause of my behaviour, you are implying that my behaviour was the result of determinate forces rather than any sort of meaningful choice. This is true even if we ignore ‘structural’ explanations that would attribute my behaviour to external factors relating to the particular situation that I faced, and focus only on me as the agent. Maybe I acted as I did because I have certain desires or weaknesses, for example, or maybe I am just a bad person. In any case, even if the reason for my actions is internal to me, it is still a reason, and we are therefore forced to the conclusion that, if anybody else had faced the same conditions – where those conditions include my preferences, worldview, personality traits, and other internal factors – they would have done the same thing, because they would have effectively been me.

You might retort that my preferences, mind-set, and personality are not beyond my control – if I am selfish, on this view, it is because I have cultivated selfishness rather than altruism. However, even ignoring the fact that personality traits are usually innate or the result of upbringing rather than conscious choice, this riposte only begs the question, because cultivating a certain trait ultimately involves a choice, or rather a series of choices. Why did you choose to cultivate a certain trait whereas I didn’t? We are back to square one. Alternatively, you might retort that people are capable of acting against their desires. However, I could just as easily reply that only people with certain qualities, traits, or whatever are capable of such self-denial, self-discipline, or whatever. What if I do not possess those characteristics? Again, we are back to square one.

With all of that said, there are two reasons why my hope in the concept of free will has been restored. The first reason is found in a rather odd place – odd not only because it is weird in itself, but also because you would not necessarily expect to find philosophical meaning in it – namely quantum physics. Let me say from the outset that I am strictly a layman when it comes to this area, so please excuse any inaccuracies, simplifications, etc.

Scientists (and people in general) used to (and to some extent still do) perceive the world in ‘Newtonian’ terms. The Newtonian paradigm conceives the world as a massive machine based on a system of interlocking cogs, whereby forces act on matter to generate physical phenomena. This is a world of cause and effect, in which nothing happens without a cause. If you could collect and compute all the relevant information, in this world, you could predict what would happen to a tee. Thus, on this view, the only reason we cannot precisely predict the weather, for example, is that the weather is complex (perhaps infinitely complex), not because it is inherently unpredictable. 

Essentially, my musings on free will have been predicated on a Newtonian view of agency – every action is essentially a reaction, an effect of some definite cause. More recently, however, the field of quantum physics has come to the fore to compete with the Newtonian paradigm. What this field shows us is that, at the extremely microscopic, sub-atomic level, the universe is fundamentally indeterminate. Even if you could collect and compute all the relevant information, in a quantum world, you would not be able to predict the outcome or state of a given particle or phenomenon.

The popular online comic strip xkcd recently published a cartoon depicting a line of academics: the first is a sociologist; the second is a psychologist, who declares that “sociology is just applied psychology”; next in line is a biologist, who in turn declares that “psychology is just applied biology”, and so on to chemistry and physics (and ultimately maths). If we run this sequence in reverse, we can conclude that, if physics is characterised by indeterminacy, then so too is chemistry, biology, psychology, and finally sociology (and you could keep going to economics and politics). Indeterminacy in physics thus implies indeterminacy of human agency. Of course, this line of thought does not definitively prove that free will exists – never mind that we can assign morality to it – but it does at least allow for the possibility of its existence.

The second factor that has helped revive my belief in free will comes from the Bible. In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus, facing the prospect of dying on a cross for the sins of the world, says (three times in fact) something very peculiar: “not My will, but Yours be done” (see Matthew 26:36-50; Mark 14:32-46; Luke 22:39-49; John 18:1). Earlier in his ministry, He similarly claimed, "I have come down from heaven, not to do my own will but the will of him who sent me" (John 6:38). I find these to be astonishing declarations, which shed invaluable light on the idea of free will. In particular, the passages show us that, at one level, Jesus actually ‘willed’ to do something that was against God’s will – namely to eschew the cross – but, at another level, nevertheless acted (and indeed willed) against His own will[1]. Indeed, on another occasion Jesus claims that “[His] food is to do the will of the Father” (John 4:34).

Although these scriptures may give us hope that free will is real, they nevertheless present us with a curious state of affairs, whereby Jesus' will is simultaneously contrary and identical to that of the Father. What I glean from this paradox is that there are multiple levels of will: we all of us have a human, sinful will, but we also have a will ‘above’ that will – like Jesus, we can will not to act according to our own will. Potentially, this could lead to either a circular argument or an infinite regress of wills, but I would submit that the Holy Spirit is our ‘ultimate’ will. After all, the Gethsemane episode shows us that the will to act against one’s own will is not a ‘wilful’ act per se, but rather one of self-denial, of submission to Another’s will. When Jesus surrendered His will, when He denied Himself, His will automatically reverted to that of the Father. Painting a picture of the Trinity that contrasts neatly yet tragically with the scene of Jesus’ baptism (see Matthew 3:13-17), I would argue that this occurred through the Holy Spirit.

The same is true for us; Romans 8:27, for example, tells us that "the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God". Indeed, in similar fashion to Jesus’ baptism, this is part of the mysterious ‘joining’ that occurs between our spirits and the Holy Spirit (see, e.g., 1 Corinthians 6:17). Jesus goes so far as to state that we become His relatives if we do the Father's will (Matthew 12:50; see also, e.g., John 17:11,20-23). Over time, moreover, just as Jesus grew in stature and favour after His baptism, the Holy Spirit transforms our sub-wills so that not only are we capable of acting against our sinful will, but our will becomes that of God (1 Corinthians 12:13; 2 Corinthians 3:17-18), although this process will never be fully complete until the End of Days (e.g. Romans 8:23).

Of course, like Jesus, we still have to choose to listen to and obey the Spirit, and we can (and often do) choose not to. A fundamental indeterminacy thus remains, and it would appear that for all of my deliberations I have not really explained anything. I have an easier time accepting this, though, knowing that the universe itself is indeterminate, and that Jesus Himself - who, after all, is the firstborn of all creation, by whom all things were created, and in whom all things hold together (Colossians 1:15-17; see also Romans 8:29) - grappled with the same issue.

Note:

[1] In so doing, of course, Jesus was correcting what occurred in the first Garden, when the first Adam (plus Eve) acted according to his own will rather than God’s, and thus introduced sin into the world; whereas Adam (and Eve) chose to eat from the forbidden tree and eschew the Tree of Life, Jesus choses to let himself be crucified on the tree, and so give us that life once more. Now, it may appear that the Newtonian conception of agency rears its ugly head here - a strange coincidence since Newton was famously enlightened by a piece of fruit falling on his head from a tree - for we are compelled to ask why Adam and Eve chose to sin if God had not made them sinful. By the same token, however, the quantum conception of agency may resolve this very puzzle – Adam and Eve sinned not because they were sinful, but because they had free will, which is inherently indeterminate.

The River of Life

In a previous post, I reiterated the story of the Bible using the geographical imagery found within it, relating primarily to rivers, trees, and mountains. In this post, I wish to focus in more detail on what is often termed ‘the River of Life’, which, although never referred to by that exact phrase, appears throughout the Bible in one form or another. Some of the material covered here is repeated from the original post, but there are distinct insights and deeper levels of meaning to be garnered by elaborating on this fascinating symbol, which should in fact be conceived not as a symbol in the conventional sense of mere representation, but rather as a literal description of a spiritual reality.

In the very first book of the Bible, we are told that “a river flowed out of Eden to water the garden”, diving into four streams (Genesis 2:10). After the Fall, however, this life-giving water no longer seems to feature so profusely in either the physical or spiritual landscape. For example, in Genesis 13, when Abraham and Lot decide to part ways, the latter chooses the well-watered, fertile territory, leaving the former with the dry land of Canaan. With that said, in line with God’s everlasting covenant with His People, it seems that the Water of Eden could still be accessed in those times, albeit sporadically and problematically: Abraham goes on to dig a number of wells, which his son Isaac recovers in Genesis 26 after they were stopped up by the Philistines. Interestingly enough, these wells were located in Gerar, which is where Isaac, the son of promise, was conceived (see Genesis 20-21).

The use of water as a symbol for promise and covenant reappears in a different, more explicit way in Deuteronomy 8 (Verse 7), where the Hebrews are told: “the Lord your God is bringing you into a good land, a land of brooks of water, of fountains and springs, flowing out in the valleys and hills” (cf. Psalm 36:8). Indeed, throughout the journey of the Hebrews through the desert towards this Promised Land, water sources continued to represent God’s faithfulness and grace. In Exodus 15 (Verses 22-27), for example, God makes palatable the bitter waters of Marah and then provides twelve springs of water and seventy palm trees at Elim. Two chapters later, in Exodus 17:5-6 (cf. Numbers 20:2-13), God draws forth water from the Rock of Horeb at Massah/Meribah.

While wells and springs in the Old Testament represent what we normally term ‘the Old Covenant’, it is interesting to note that they feature in God’s dealings not only with the promised son Isaac, but also with the bastard child Ishmael, conceived illegitimately and disobediently through the maidservant Hagar. In Genesis 16, God meets with Hagar in the wilderness at a spring, which becomes “the well of the Living One who sees me”, and in Chapter 21 provides another well for Hagar to nourish Ishmael. The inclusion of Ishmael in the imagery of wells points to an ‘Older’ Covenant, originally established with Noah and reiterated to Abraham, that included all people – and indeed, all of creation.

The foundational grace embodied in wells was therefore universally accessible – but only intermittently, by tapping into a latent reservoir. The Prophets (as well as the Psalmist – see, e.g., Psalm 104:10-13) thus foresaw a time when Jerusalem would become the New Eden, with the River of Life once again flowing freely and openly. Zechariah (14:8), for example, refers to a day when “living waters shall flow out of Jerusalem, half of them to the eastern sea and half of them to the western sea”, while Ezekiel (47:1-12) similarly tells of four rivers fanning out from the Temple in alternative directions, one of which transforms the land into a lush paradise. Employing a more personal register, Isaiah expands on the image of the River of Life bursting forth to irrigate a barren wilderness. It is worth observing the numerous references concerned:

• “With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation.” (12:3)
• “Waters break forth in the wilderness, And streams in the desert; The burning sand shall become a pool, And the thirsty ground springs of water” (35:6-7)
• “When the poor and needy seek water, And there is none, And their tongue is Parched with thirst, I the Lord will answer them; I the God of Israel will not forsake them. I will open rivers on the bare heights, And fountains in the midst of the valleys. I will make the wilderness a pool of water, And the dry land springs of water. I will put in the wilderness the cedar, The acacia, the myrtle, and the olive. I will set in the desert the cypress, The plane and the pine together ...” (41:17-20)
• “Behold, I am doing a new thing; Now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness And rivers in the desert … For I give water in the wilderness, Rivers in the desert, To give drink to my chosen people, The people whom I formed for myself That they might declare my praise.” (43:19-21)
• “I will pour water on the thirsty land, And streams on the dry ground; I will pour my Spirit upon your offspring, And my blessing on your descendants. They shall spring up among the grass Like willows by flowing streams.” (44:3-4)
• “The Lord will guide you continually And satisfy your desire in scorched places And make your bones strong; And you shall be like a watered garden, Like a spring of water, Whose waters do not fail.” (58:11)
• “Behold, I will extend peace to her like a river, and the glory of the nations like an overflowing stream” (66:12)

From the Isaiah 44 passage, we learn that the River of Life is an illustration or embodiment of the Holy Spirit, which is of course a key part of God's Promise. The prophet Joel reiterates this: while echoing Ezekiel and Zechariah by foretelling of a time when “all the streambeds of Judah Shall flow with water” and when “a fountain shall come forth from the house of the Lord And water the Valley of Shittim” (3:18) – itself a highly symbolic reference – he includes the prediction that God will “pour out [His] Spirit” (2:28-29). However, while Isaiah mentions the Promise of the Spirit in the context of one particular lineage (or "offspring"), Joel informs us that the Spirit, though emanating from a spiritual Jerusalem, will in fact be poured out "on all flesh" (ibid.). The prophecy of Jerusalem-as-Eden therefore depicts the fulfilment of the Covenant that is normally associated with Isaac but in fact extended to Ishmael and beyond.

This fulfilment, of course, arrives with Jesus Christ. In the Gospel of John (4:14), Jesus pronounces of Himself: “whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” Some three chapters later (7:37-39), He elaborates on this message: “On the last day of the feast, the great day, Jesus stood up and cried out, ‘If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in Me, as the Scripture has said, “Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water”’.” The passage goes on to inform us that “He said about the Spirit, whom those who believed in him were to receive”.

Just as the River of Life springs from Eden/Jerusalem to flow East and West, so too it springs from Christ and flows through both Old and New Testaments. Indeed, it is impossible to resist seeing in the four rivers of Eden/Jerusalem a picture of the Cross, from which our life is restored. Christ gives us the source of life itself – that is, He gives us Himself, who is the Life (John 11:25; 14:6). He is the Rock of Horeb, as we are told in 1 Corinthians 10:4 (cf. Psalm 78:16), for it is through Him that God’s promises are fulfilled. He is the Well of the Living One and the well of salvation, for it through Him that we experience the grace of eternal life. He is the spring in the wilderness, the overflowing stream, and the fountain of living water, for it is through Him that we receive the Holy Spirit (cf. Acts 2:16-21) and are thus created anew. He is the River of Eden and Jerusalem, for He is the Firstborn of All Creation and the Heavenly Temple (Colossians 1:15; John 2:18-22)

Speaking of which, the book of Revelation (22:1-2) tells us that the story is not yet finished: in the New Jerusalem, “the river of the water of life flow[s] from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city” (cf. Psalm 46:4). One day, when Heaven and Earth are reunited, the River of Life that issues from Eden, Jerusalem, and ultimately Christ – the same River that flows through us, renews us, and recreates us – will encompass all of creation, making all things new (Revelation 21:5). On that day, we will thirst no longer (7:16), for He Himself will “guide [us] to springs of living water” (7:17), from which we will imbibe “without payment” (21:6; cf. 22:17).

The picture painted in Revelation indicates a significant property of water, namely that it is necessary for life – not only in a physical sense (Song of Songs 29:27; 39:31), but also in a spiritual sense. That is why we thirst for the living water (Psalm 42:1). As established by many of the passages that we’ve surveyed, moreover, God is the source of this water. Life has to begin somewhere, and just as Mary was impregnated by the Holy Spirit, we too are filled with new life, which comes directly from God in abundance (John 10:10; Psalm 36:8-9; 65:9; 104:16). By contrast, the rivers of the world are bitter, poisoned, and fruitless, and eventually dry up (Jeremiah 2:18-19; 8:14; 9:15; 23:25; 50:38; Exodus 15; Deuteronomy 29:18; 2 Kings 2:19-22). Those who reject Christ will therefore die of thirst (see, e.g., Ezekiel 29:10; 30:12; 31; 32:6; Isaiah 8:5-8; 19:5-8; 34:9; 50:2; Psalm 74:15; 78:44; Revelation 16:4,12).

To be sure, God is able to make even the bitter waters sweet; indeed, in a way, this is the transformative power of the Cross. We have already referred the miracle at Marah, whereby Moses throws a "log" - clearly a type of Cross - into the bitter pool to make it potable (Exodus 15:22-27). Elisha performs a similar feat on two occasions, once by adding salt (2 Kings 2:19-22), and once by adding flour (2 Kings 4:38-41) - again, obvious allusions to Christ. These events also reveal that the transformation from bitter to sweet necessarily produces fruit: directly after the Marah episode, the Hebrews stumble across the palm trees at Elim; similarly, directly after Elisha purifies a deadly stew at Gilgal in 2 Kings Chapter 4, a mystery man appears bringing the "bread of the firstfruits". The same image emerges from many of the passages we have already studied, with trees of life budding on the banks of the River (cf. Psalm 1:3; 107:33-38). From Galatians 5 (Verses 22-23), we know what form this fruit should take in our own lives: "love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control".

As the John 7 passage makes clear, however, if we are to bear such fruit the Spirit must flow - not only within us, but also from us (cf. Proverbs 4:23). Although he who has the Spirit will never thirst, and will one day be fully satiated, it is possible to “quench the Spirit” (1 Thessalonians 5:19) – to obstruct its natural course by channeling it into neat, manageable reservoirs which however become stagnant and dry. This point is clearly explicated in the book of Jeremiah, Chapter 2. On the one hand, God restates that it is “bitter” to “forsake” Him by drinking from the tainted waters of the world (Verses 18-19). He emphasises, however, that His people have actually “committed two evils” – in addition to ”forsak[ing] … the fountain of living waters”, they have “hewed out cisterns for themselves, broken cisterns that can hold no water” (Verse 13). Thus, if we do not let the Spirit flow out of us, we will not be filled with the Spirit. Conversely, as Proverbs 11:25 puts it, “he who waters will himself be watered” (cf. Proverbs 10:11, 18:4).

The River of Life, long concealed underground, is now freely and universally available. By watering the barren wilderness of our souls, it changes us from within, gushes out of us, and will one day flow through all levels of reality. It is, in a way, a mirror image of the great flood of Genesis. Indeed, it seems no coincidence that it was with Noah that the Ancient Covenant was first issued. Nor does it seem a coincidence that God painted a rainbow in the sky after that terrible judgement, since we are told in Revelation Chapter 4 (Verse 3) that a rainbow - but this time a full, circular rainbow as opposed to the incomplete semi-circles that we normally observe - encompasses the Throne of God.

On that note, it seems apt to conclude this post with two passages to which I seem to constantly return in both this blog and own devotions. The first is from the 'beloved' chapter of 1 Corinthians 13 and the second is from my personal favourite, Romans 8:

"...now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known." (1 Corinthians 13:12)

"...the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons..." (Romans 8:22-23)

Literal vs. Symbolic: a False Dichotomy

Should we interpret the entire Bible literally, or are certain parts (or is all of it, for that matter) merely symbolic[1]? In this post, I would like to explain why I think this question, which has caused schisms within Christianity since time immemorial, is misguided, and indeed, misleading. The central argument is that, when we are dealing with the collision of natural and supernatural, physical and spiritual, human and divine – which, to my mind, is the essence of the entire Bible – it makes little sense to talk about whether a given passage is intended to be ‘literal’ or ‘symbolic’. In such a context, this is a false dichotomy, since symbols and the like are the most literal descriptors of reality available to us in human language and human understanding; and conversely, the literal world symbolically reflects the spiritual.

The Bible starts with the creation of the universe, and that seems like a perfect topic with which to open this post. One of the most asinine debates in theology, in my opinion, is whether the seven days of creation consisted of a ‘literal’ seven days. Those who answer in the negative point out that the first chapter of Genesis is patently structured as a poem, and should be read accordingly – that is, figuratively. Those who answer in the affirmative exclaim that the Bible says seven days, so it must be seven actual days, and to say otherwise is tantamount to altering the Bible. I agree – with both sides.

How can I maintain such a position, you ask? Well, to answer that question, I would pose a question of my own: do you realise that there is no such thing as a ‘literal’ day, at least in the sense that most people conceive it[2]? Despite what our intuition and experiences would suggest, time itself is relative[3]. This cosmological fact, discovered by Einstein himself[4], is a favourite topic of science fiction; in the recent movie Interstellar, for example, a ‘day’ for the astronauts exploring distant galaxies is equivalent to years for people on earth. Does this sound familiar? It should if you are at all familiar with the theological debate in question, for those advocating a non-literal seven days often invoke 2 Peter 3:8, which reads, “with the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day”. Now, this verse is clearly indicating that God is not subject to physical time; but what’s interesting is that, since God is everywhere in the universe at once, it is valid even when discussing physical time. Fact and fiction, physical and spiritual, literal and symbolic, cannot be so easily separated.

And how could it be any other way? After all, we are dealing with the creation of the physical by the spiritual. How could you describe such an event more accurately – more literally – than with poetry? It’s impossible to explain scientifically, since matter itself – the subject of science – is being created; indeed, innumerable scientific laws are being broken, because they are themselves coming into existence! In any case, whether or not the seven days of creation consisted of a 'literal' seven days is completely besides the point, which is that God has established the seven-day period as a divine pattern, built in to the very fabric of life. Seven is the Biblical number of completeness and perfection, repeated throughout the scriptures, particularly in Revelation. Of course, we know that the Sabbath was ordained in accordance with this pattern (Exodus 20:11), which, like everything else, Jesus redeems for us (Hebrews 3:7-4:13).

This point can be generalised – haven’t you found that artists are often capable of capturing some deep truth more precisely than could be done using ‘literal’ language (I am loath to use terms such as ‘logical’, ‘scientific’, ‘rational’, or ‘factual’ here, since my point is precisely that seemingly non-literal imagery can contain precisely those qualities)? The Bible is full of such truths, since it is essentially a story about Heaven on Earth. Indeed, at the time of creation, there was no separation between worldly and divine, since everything was good; it was only with the Fall that such a separation came into being, and it is only the context of such separation that the literal-vs-symbolic dichotomy makes any sense. The remainder of the Bible, moreover, tells of how this separation has been, is being, and will be eradicated.

To insist on an earthly interpretation is not, therefore, to remain loyal to scripture, as proponents of this view claim; on the contrary, it is to detract from the mind-blowing, fundamental, heavenly nature of the subject matter in question. At the same time, however, those who take a postmodern approach to the Bible are completely missing the point, and are likewise devaluing the power of God. Every word of the Bible is true (2 Timothy 3:16; 2 Peter 1:21), and is so in the most absolute sense (Isaiah 40:8; 1 Peter 1:22-25); in other words, there is such a thing as an incorrect interpretation, and for that matter, a false teaching.

Here we reach the crux of the argument, which both sides of the literal-symbolic divide miss: just because something is symbolic (be it in the form of image, allegory, or whatever) does not make it any less true, or even less literal; on the contrary, heavenly truths are most literally explained using such symbolism – at least within the confines of our understanding and language. Indeed, I think this is what the Apostle Paul is getting at when he speaks of “the Spirit himself interced[ing] for us with groanings too deep for words” (Romans 8:26), for, as he (Paul or the Spirit, take your pick) puts it elsewhere, “now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known” (1 Corinthians 13:12). The redeemed spirit within us testifies to a heavenly reality, which we cannot however fully comprehend or express. Indeed, Paul picks up on this same theme earlier in 1 Corinthians (Chapter 2), when he speaks of the “interpreting” and “imparting” the “spiritual truths” that have been “revealed to us” – that is, the “secret and hidden wisdom of God, which God decreed before the age” – using “words not taught by human wisdom”.

Furthermore, while I have thus far argued that the symbolic can be literal, it is also the case that the literal can be symbolic, for precisely the same reasons. Take the Temple, for example, which contained the Presence of God on Earth. It was designed according to rigorous specifications; and yet we learn in various places (Ezekiel 40-48; Zechariah 2; Revelation 21-22) that these physical specifications reflect those of the Heavenly Temple. As it says in Revelation 21:17, the "human measurement [of the Temple]...is also also an angel's measurement". Similar points could be made with regard to many of the Bible's prophecies. Whenever Heaven and Earth collide, the distinction between literal and symbolic fades.

I think that the treatment of scripture suggested here would help us to reconcile apparent paradoxes in the Bible – not in the sense of ‘resolving’ them, but rather in acknowledging them as potent forms of symbolic meaning. Indeed, the aforementioned chapter in Romans describes precisely such a paradox, whereby the redemption of creation is simultaneously complete in Christ’s sacrifice and incomplete until His Second Coming. This is not a contradiction, since it can be rationalised; but it is a paradox, and indeed, it is the paradoxical aspect that provides the rationalisation. The chapter is essentially indicating that Heaven and Earth have not yet been (re-)married; they are engaged, to be sure, but the Bride has not yet been presented to the Bridegroom, and the two will not be made one until the wedding is consummated. As it says in Revelation 22 – the very chapter that sternly warns against adding or taking away from the Word of God – that day is coming soon. And on that day, when the separation between worldly and divine is forever abolished, the 'literalness' of symbolic interpretations will surely be made manifest.

Notes:

[1] I choose the term ‘symbolic’ over ‘metaphorical’, because the former generally denotes a stand-in for a more complex or abstract reality while the latter generally denotes a comparison of two discrete objects, and it is the former denotation that I think is apposite.

[2] I am no physicist; please excuse this layman’s version of cosmology, and please excuse any errors.

[3] A creation literalist might retort that the Bible was obviously referring to an ‘earth day’; but such a period of time is defined as a full rotation of the earth, the latter of which – along with the rest of the universe – was still in the process of being creation. It makes no sense to speak of ‘twenty-four hours’ when the very universe by which such hours are defined did not yet exist.

[4] I actually find it interesting that the first thing God created was light, which is precisely what Einstein treated as an absolute.

Cosmological Dilemmas

We cannot really grasp either mortality or immortality. On the one hand, it seems inconceivable that one day we may cease to exist – that the consciousness which makes us who we are would one day come to an end. On the other hand, it is equally inconceivable that we may exist forever. Imagine knowing that you will live, not just for a long time, but for eternity. Both prospects are incomprehensible, and, in a way, frightening.

Nor can we really grasp either theism or atheism. On the one hand, the physical universe cannot have had come into existence unless an ‘uncaused cause’ – that is, God – existed beforehand to create it. On the other hand, it is equally difficult to get our heads around such a being. We are inclined to ask: ‘Why does He exist, and is He the way He is?’ Whether there is a God or not, existence appears maddeningly arbitrary.

There is no way around these conundrums, which is what makes them so intriguing and so compelling. Either we live forever, or we don’t. Either there is a God, or there isn’t. Either way, existence is a mysterious thing. When we ponder these questions, it is as if our minds come up against some kind of metaphysical force-field, beyond which they cannot go.

I believe that these ‘cosmological dilemmas’ really attest to our status as beings created in God’s image yet residing in a physical, finite, and fallen world. I suspect that one day, when we are fully adopted as sons and all things are made new, this will become clear.

Heaven on Earth

The phrase ‘Heaven on earth’ is usually uttered in a secular context to denote bliss or utopia. Indeed, unwittingly retaining a sort of Gnostic paradigm, many if not most Christians seem to find the phrase to be somehow offensive, or even blasphemous – how can Heaven be on earth, when the former is holy and the latter wicked? This state of affairs is peculiar, since the Bible as I see it is essentially a story about – you guessed it – Heaven on Earth.

The theme is introduced in the very first verse of the Bible: “in the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth”. In the creation process, there is no distinction between natural and supernatural; nature is brought into existence through super-nature. The substance of Genesis, in turn, is echoed in the book of Revelation, where we see a New Jerusalem descending from Heaven to Earth. In between the beginning and the end, we have the life of Jesus himself, who came from Heaven to dwell in earthly form, descending into the bosom of the earth, and then ascended back to Heaven.

On either chronological side of Jesus, we see more hints of Heaven colliding with earth. In the Old Testament, there is the Jewish temple/tabernacle, which contained the presence of God on earth. Heaven and earth have been torn asunder thanks to sin, but nevertheless we see a remnant of the divine remaining amongst the profane. In the New Testament, we ourselves have become the temple, with the Holy Spirit dwelling within us. Although we still await the time when Heaven and earth will be reunited, spiritually speaking we are already there.

The Lord’s Prayer, which is directed to “our Father in Heaven”, contains the curious phrase, “Your Kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven”. Clearly, Jesus thought that Heaven-on-earth was an important agenda – one which He came to set, and which he wanted us to continue pursuing.

The Old, New, and Ancient Covenants

It is common for Christians to speak about two covenants in the Bible, namely the so-called ‘Old’ and ‘New’ Covenants. In this post, I would like to suggest that this list is not exhaustive. I will argue, firstly, that a covenant of sorts existed before the ‘Old’ Mosaic Covenant, with Adam, Noah, and Abraham as its representatives, and secondly, that the ‘New’ Covenant is actually a return to this ‘Ancient’ Covenant. Finally, since I am already on the subject, I will show how all of these covenants point to Jesus.

The so-called ‘Old’ Covenant, as I’m sure the reader will be aware, was given to Moses in the book of Exodus. Its precise starting point is unclear, but it is Chapter 15 verses 25-26 where God first issues the sort of conditional promise that characterises this covenant: “…the LORD made for them a statute and a rule, and there he tested them, saying, ‘If you will diligently listen to the voice of the If you will diligently listen to the voice of the LORD your God, and do that which is right in his eyes, and give ear to his commandments and keep all his statutes, I will put none of the diseases on you that I put on the Egyptians, for I am the LORD, your healer.’” From this point all the way through the books of Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy, a seemingly endless body of rules and regulations – the so-called ‘Law’ – is established. The gist of Exodus 15 is reiterated over and over again in these passages – if the Israelites obey the Law, God will bless them.

The Bible clearly states that the Law could make no one righteous – that is to say, it could “justify” no one – for no one could obey it ‘to the letter’ (Romans 3:20; Galatians 2:15, 3:11; Hebrews 10:1); rather, it acted as a mirror to show us the need for a saviour (Romans 7:7). This saviour was Jesus, who came to fulfil the Law by living a perfect life, and so, through our faith in His sacrifice, rather than our obedience to the Law, make us righteous before God (e.g. Matthew 5:17; Romans 3, 8:3; Galatians 2:21; 2 Corinthians 5:21; 1 John 5:4; Hebrews 10; Ephesians 2) – the New Covenant, which is not just for Israel, but for all of humankind. I would also point out that the Law did not only point ahead to Christ; in fact, Christ was in the picture even before the Law is given, all the way back in Exodus 15. Near the end of the chapter, the Israelites start to complain to Moses that they have no water to drink, for the waters at Marah were bitter (verses 23-4). God then shows Moses a log, which he lobs into the water, making it sweet (verse 25). It is immediately after this miracle, which manifestly alludes to the cross of Christ, where we find the first reference to the Law (verse 26). Furthermore, when comparing Jesus and His covenant to Moses and his covenant, the book of Hebrews - which explicitly uses the terminology of the 'Old' and 'New' Covenants - cites Psalm 95 to refer to the episode where the Jews test God by demanding water at Massah/Meribah, two chapters later in Exodus. As you probably know, Moses addresses this situation by bring forth water from the Rock of Horeb, which in 1 Corinthians 10:4 we are told is a metaphor to Christ.

The New Covenant is obviously not the end of the story, for we are waiting for the New Heavens and the New Earth (Revelation 21) and our adoption as glorified sons (Romans 8:18-25); but neither, I would submit, is the Old Covenant the beginning of the story. In Genesis 12 verses 2-3, God promises Abraham: “I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonours you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” We are given some invaluable information about this Abrahamic covenant in Galatians 3 (see also the book of Hebrews), which quotes multiple scriptures from Genesis: “Abraham ‘believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness’. Know then that it is those of faith who are the sons of Abraham.  And the Scripture, foreseeing that God would justify the Gentiles by faith, preached the gospel beforehand to Abraham, saying, ‘In you shall all the nations be blessed.’ So then, those who are of faith are blessed along with Abraham, the man of faith…so that in Christ Jesus the blessing of Abraham might come to the Gentiles, so that we might receive the promised Spirit through faith…And if you are Christ's, then you are Abraham's offspring, heirs according to promise.” In other words, Paul tells us that the New Covenant is actually a fulfilment not only of the so-called Old Covenant, but also of the promise that God made to Abraham – not just in the sense that Christ was Abraham’s descendant (verse 16), but also in the sense that, just as Abraham was made righteous by his faith, so are we. This makes sense, since God's promise to Abraham was articulated in a future tense ("I will establish my covenant between me and you and your offspring") as an "everlasting covenant" (Genesis 17:7).

Furthermore, just as the New Covenant is for all peoples, so too the Abrahamic Covenant was for "all the nations", for the distinction between Jew, Gentile, and anyone else had not yet been made. Indeed, the next chapter of Galatians (verse 22-31) emphasises that the promise was made before Isaac and Ishmael were born; we are told that Hagar the slave embodied the Old Covenant while the New Covenant was represented by the promise of Isaac. Although Galatians makes clear that Abraham was a man of faith, his faith clearly lapsed when he took matters into his own hands by going in Hagar, disbelieving God’s promise that Sarah would became pregnant at an old age (Genesis 16). It would appear that the Law, which acted as placeholder until the Messiah came (Galatians 3:24), was the eventual result of this act. Indeed, there is a striking parallel here to the Massah/Meribah episode, where Moses attempted to take things into his own hands by twice striking the Rock of Horeb - an act which eventually disqualified him from entering the Promised Land (Numbers 20:12). In this vein, we can also observe that, just as Christ was there when the Old Covenant came into existence, so He was there during the Abrahamic promise.

In the second half of Genesis 14, after Abraham wins an important battle, we are told of an elusive figure named Melchizedek of Salem who held the status of “priest of the God Most High”; in Hebrews 7 verse 3 we are further told that he was “without father or mother or genealogy, having neither beginning of days nor end of life…resembling the Son of God.” This Christ-like priest, whose name significantly meant “King of Righteousness”, and whose place of origin (Salem, or peace) is a precursor of sorts to the city of Jerusalem, and eventually the New Jerusalem - blesses Abraham. As Hebrews 7 makes clear, the priesthood of Christ that we now inherit is a continuation of Melchizedek’s priestly line – as opposed to Levitical lineage of the Old Covenant – and thus a continuation of the Abrahamic Covenant. This latter covenant, moreover, is based on righteousness through faith, and the fact that it originated with Melchizedek, who did not belong to any ethnic group, underscores its universal nature (indeed, it is interesting to note in this respect that, since Jesus was divinely conceived, he didn't really belong to any ethnic group either). 

In fact, we can trace God’s promise to Abraham even further back in the Bible. In Genesis 9, where God draws a rainbow to symbolise his promise to Noah that he will never again judge the world through a flood – another clear picture of Christ, which evokes the transformation of the waters of Marah, Abraham’s victory in battle, and of course the Cross itself – God tells Noah the following: “Behold, I establish my covenant with you and your offspring after you, and with every living creature that is with you…I establish my covenant with you, that never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of the flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth…This the sign of the covenant that I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for all future generations…” (Genesis 9:9-12, emphasis added). The parallel to the Abrahamic promise is obvious. You will recall, moreover, that Noah and his family are the only people on earth at this time, meaning that a promise to Noah's offspring is a promise to everyone.

The promise to Noah, in turn, links to a yet older promise. In the first verse of Genesis 9, we read that “God blessed Noah and his sons and said to them, ‘Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth.’” This should sound familiar; indeed, in the very first book of the Bible (verse 28), this verse is repeatedly virtually verbatim: ““And God blessed [Adam and Eve]. And God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth…’”. This was the original promise, the original covenant - for the blessings of God to be freely available for all peoples. In fact, all of this is encapsulated in the book of Hebrews, which shows how Christ has been in the picture since "the foundation of the world" (4:3), explaining how the New Covenant relates to Noah, Abraham, Moses, and other Old-Testament figures, with Jesus coming to reestablish the divine rest of the seventh day of creation, reiterated through the provision of manna (Chapter 3).

In short, the New Covenant of Christ not only fulfils the Law of righteousness-through-works, but it brings us back to the Abrahamic promise of righteousness-through-faith, which is in turn a continuation of the blessings given to Noah and Adam. A beautiful picture indeed!