Vine Abiders Podcast

Chris White

Theological studies with Chris White an author, filmmaker and podcaster. Holiness, Wesleyan, Early Church. vineabiders.substack.com

  1. 2d ago

    The Resurrection Is More Important Than You Think

    If you have ever sat through an Easter sermon and walked away faintly dissatisfied with the explanation of why the resurrection matters, you are not alone. Preachers rightly treat it as the hinge of the Christian faith. Paul says that if it did not happen, we are still in our sins, so it clearly has something to do with the atonement. And yet the reasons usually given for it always struck me as thin. I once thought I understood this doctrine well. After a season of reading (the books are listed at the end), I have come to think my old view was not so much wrong as badly incomplete. The reality is stranger and far more important than I had been taught. Let me start with the three answers you have probably heard, and then build toward what I think is actually going on. Three Familiar Answers First, that the resurrection vindicates Jesus’s teaching. Tim Keller put it crisply: if Jesus rose, you have to accept everything he said; if he did not, none of it matters. I more or less agree, but I would hesitate to make rising from the dead the thing that certifies a teacher’s words. The Antichrist, by my reading, will appear to rise from the dead too. More to the point, I cannot find an explicit teaching in Scripture that says we should believe Jesus because he rose. It feels more like worldly wisdom than a biblical argument. I will give Keller the benefit of the doubt, but it does not get to the heart of things. Second, that the resurrection proves Christ’s death accomplished salvation. John Piper frames it as proof that the death of Jesus was an all-sufficient price, that without the resurrection his death was a failure. In this model the resurrection is essentially a receipt: God’s wrath has been satisfied, so he raises his Son to show the transaction cleared. It is intensely cross-centered, and that is exactly what I want to challenge. The atonement could not have been completed until Jesus rose and ascended. If that is true, then the resurrection cannot merely be proof that the work was already finished at the cross. It is part of the work itself. Third, that the resurrection gives us hope of our own. This is the one you hear on Easter most often and at funerals, and it is the one I fully agree with. Christ is the firstfruits; because he rose, we have solid hope that we will too. But there is far more to say, and the deeper reasons are what I want to walk through. What Is the Atonement, Exactly? Before we can say why the resurrection matters, we have to ask a question most Christians never think to ask. What is the atonement? Most people would answer that it is Jesus dying for our sins on the cross. That is not wrong, but it mistakes the opening act for the whole drama. In the logic of the Old Testament sacrificial system, the death of the victim was never the moment of atonement. It was the preparation for it. This is not a controversial claim among scholars of Israel’s sacrificial system. The slaughter of the animal, by itself, accomplished nothing. Its purpose was to obtain the blood, and the purpose of the blood was to be carried to a sacred place and applied. The application was the atoning act, whether that meant sprinkling blood on the mercy seat on the Day of Atonement or on the various implements of the tabernacle. Leviticus 17:11 is about the only place in the Bible that explains why this works: ‘For the life of the flesh is in the blood, and I have given it to you on the altar to make atonement for your souls; for it is the blood by reason of the life that makes atonement.’ The operative idea is that the blood by reason of the life that makes atonement.. We meet this theme early in Scripture, in the severe prohibition against eating blood. Blood carries life, and that is precisely why it makes atonement. Atonement is fundamentally about cleansing, and life cleanses because what it cleanses is the opposite of life, which is death. Here is the picture, and it is worth holding onto. At the center of the tabernacle dwelt God’s own presence, the pillar of cloud and fire between the cherubim. I take this to be the Holy Spirit, the same Spirit who will one day dwell in the temple of our bodies. The connection is close to one-to-one, and you will not fully grasp what the New Testament says about the Spirit until you see that the Spirit was that pillar of fire. Sin, which leads to death, defiled the place where this presence dwelt. (Leviticus 16:16–19) Atonement was the cleansing that kept it habitable, so that the Spirit would remain in Israel’s midst. When the nation sank into sin and the cleansing lapsed, the presence departed. So in the old system, atonement was not finished until the blood reached the sacred object. On the Day of Atonement the high priest, having first purified himself so he would not die, carried the blood into the Holy of Holies for one purpose: to place it on the mercy seat and withdraw. Until the blood touched that lid, no atonement had been made. Hold that thought, because it is about to do a great deal of work. The Lid of the Ark If atonement requires blood on the mercy seat, then atonement cannot have been completed at the cross, because there was no Ark of the Covenant at Golgotha. That is not a clever objection of mine. It is the very point the author of Hebrews builds his argument around, and it is why Jesus had to ascend to where the true mercy seat is. The Hebrew name for that lid is kapporeth, from the same root that gives us Yom Kippur. It means, roughly, to atone. The Day of Atonement is the day, and the kapporeth is the place, of atonement. The phrase is almost circular: atonement is made on the place of atonement. The lid is so central that its very name is atonement. The New Testament writers refer to that same object with the Greek word hilasterion. Translated as “mercy seat,” it renders the Hebrew faithfully. Translated as “atonement,” it is also fair, since that is what the word carried. But some translations render it “propitiation,” meaning the satisfaction of a god’s wrath, and that I think is a mistake. Many of the translators, including those behind the King James, were Calvinists for whom atonement simply was the satisfaction of wrath, so substituting one word for the other cost them nothing. It costs us a great deal, because it smuggles a whole theory of the atonement into a word that never meant it. Hebrews and the Heavenly Tabernacle The book of Hebrews was written, in part, to explain how atonement works, and the author is insistent on a point modern readers tend to spiritualize away: there is a real tabernacle in heaven. The one Moses built was a copy and shadow of it. When I have tried to describe this to people, they reach for “in a spiritual sense,” but the writer of Hebrews means something more concrete. The cleansing capable of pouring God’s Spirit out on all flesh, as happened at Pentecost, could only be accomplished by a sacrifice offered not in an earthly sanctuary but in the heavenly original. He grounds this in Moses himself: Who serve unto the example and shadow of heavenly things, as Moses was admonished of God when he was about to make the tabernacle: for, See, saith he, that thou make all things according to the pattern shewed to thee in the mount. And he presses it further: Christ entered not the holy places made with hands, the mere figures of the true, but heaven itself, to appear before God for us. Whatever reality you grant the earthly Ark, Hebrews ranks it below the heavenly one, which is the real thing. Around this the author builds a careful case. First he must show that Jesus can be a high priest at all, since he came from Judah, not Levi. His answer is that Jesus belongs to a different and older order, the priesthood of Melchizedek. Then he establishes the real sanctuary above. Then he explains why a new covenant was needed in the first place: the old one was limited at every point, by the mortality of its priests, the earthliness of its tabernacle, the blood of animals, all of which capped how far its cleansing could reach. A greater atonement required a greater priest and a greater place. He brings the threads together in chapter nine: But Christ being come an high priest of good things to come, by a greater and more perfect tabernacle, not made with hands, that is to say, not of this building; Neither by the blood of goats and calves, but by his own blood he entered in once into the holy place, having obtained eternal redemption for us... How much more shall the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without spot to God, purge your conscience from dead works to serve the living God? The whole new covenant hinges on a logical fact: that Jesus is a real high priest, and that there is a real place in heaven for him to do his work. This, I suspect, is what Paul means in 1 Corinthians 15:17, that if Christ is not raised, our faith is vain and we are still in our sins. Read against Piper, the difference is sharp. For Piper the verse means the resurrection confirms a finished transaction. For Paul it means something stronger: you are not forgiven unless Jesus is raised. That can only be true if the dying was not the whole of the atonement. A Christ who died but never rose and ascended is a sacrifice slaughtered but never presented, blood that never reached the mercy seat, an atonement left unfinished. There is one more strand here I want to flag without overreaching. A high priest also maintains the covenant through ongoing intercession, which Hebrews ties to Christ’s endless life: he is able to save completely because he ever lives to intercede. I do not yet understand this aspect as well as I would like, so I will only note the obvious point. A dead savior cannot intercede. The resurrection is the condition of his ongoing priestly work as much as of his finished sacrifice. How Jesus Becomes Lord The second reason runs through the whole New Testament and is easy to mis

    43 min
  2. Two Words You DON'T ACTUALLY Know: Gospel & Faith

    Apr 12

    Two Words You DON'T ACTUALLY Know: Gospel & Faith

    There are two words that sit right at the center of everything Christians talk about. Two words you’ve heard a thousand times. Gospel. And faith. Every pastor assumes that everybody knows what these words mean. But what I want to suggest to you today is that most of us don’t really know what either of them means. And I don’t mean we’re fuzzy on the details. I mean we’ve gotten the definitions of these words completely wrong. I want to be clear. This is not some fringe idea. The scholars behind this reassessment, people like Drs. Matthew Bates, Scot McKnight, Nijay K. Gupta, N.T. Wright, are not radicals. They are working from the original Greek texts, from the historical context of the first century, and from church history. And they keep arriving at the same conclusions. This presentation will be in two parts. Part One: what the gospel actually is. And Part Two: what faith, that is the Greek word pistis, actually means in context. PART ONE: THE GOSPEL First, let’s talk about what the Gospel Is Not If you ask most Christians today to define the gospel, you’re likely going to get one of two answers. The first answer sounds something like this: we are all sinners. We’ve broken God’s law. And because God is holy and just, that sin has to be dealt with. The good news, the gospel, is that Jesus dealt with it for us. He died in our place. And now, if you believe that, if you put your faith in what he did, you are forgiven, you are right with God, and you have eternal life. Those are real things that Scripture more or less teaches. But the argument we’re going to make is that that’s not the gospel. Or at least, it’s not a complete definition of the gospel. And treating it as the whole thing produces real problems. The second common answer to what the gospel is is similar: that the gospel is specifically what happened at the cross, that Jesus died for our sins. Different traditions offer various theories about how his death paid for our sins, but they would say that understanding and believing that our sins were dealt with at the cross is the gospel. The fact that Jesus died for our sins is absolutely part of the gospel. We’re going to see that Paul explicitly includes it in his gospel presentations. But saying the gospel is essentially the story of how the cross dealt with our sin problem, taking that one piece and calling it the whole thing, that’s where we start to go wrong. Both reductions, justification by faith as the gospel, and atonement theory as the gospel, share the same underlying flaw: they make the rest of the ministry of Jesus theologically unnecessary. If justification by faith is the gospel, the four books we literally call the Gospels don’t contain the gospel. Everything Jesus said and did becomes background material. You could construct the entire gospel without ever opening Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John. So if those things aren’t the gospel, what is? Start with the word itself. Euangelion, the Greek word we translate as gospel, means good news. Specifically though, it’s the kind of news that gets publicly proclaimed. And in the ancient Greco-Roman world, it had an even more specific meaning. It was the kind of announcement you made when a king won a battle. When a royal heir took the throne. When the political order of the realm fundamentally changed. It was a public proclamation so that the people of that realm would know that everything is different now, that they had a new king. However, in the Christian context I like to think of the gospel this way: you’re trying to convince someone that Jesus is their rightful king, and to do that, you often need to explain the story of Jesus’s royal career, his pre-existence with God in heaven, how he became a man, his fulfillment of these ancient prophecies about the coming king, his death for sins, his resurrection, his enthronement, and his coming return. The four books called the Gospels tell this story because the whole story matters when trying to convince someone that they have a king and that king is worthy of their devotion. For a first-century Jew, part of that case was genealogical. They already knew a king was coming. So you had to show them that Jesus came from the line of David, that he fulfilled what the prophets said, that he was the king that they had been waiting for. If you had to pick a single part of the gospel that best captured this idea, it might be the resurrection and enthronement, because that is when Jesus took his seat at God’s right hand on the throne prepared for him. This is why Hebrews can say Jesus endured the cross “for the joy set before him.” There was something waiting on the other side of his mission on earth. The throne was the prize. The suffering was the path to it. The resurrection and enthronement in heaven was the moment of transfer. Jesus moved from Son of God to Son-of-God-in-Power. And this idea is given prominent place in Romans 1:2-4, which is one of the most clear definitions of the gospel according to Paul: “This gospel he promised beforehand through his prophets in the holy scriptures, concerning his Son who was a descendant of David with reference to the flesh, who was appointed the Son-of-God-in-power according to the Holy Spirit by the resurrection from the dead, Jesus Christ our Lord.” (Romans 1:2-4) Then there’s the passage in 1 Corinthians 15, where Paul spends at least 25 verses explaining the Gospel. He says that Jesus died for our sins according to the Scriptures (v. 3), that He was buried, and that He was raised on the third day. Paul then goes on to describe at length how Jesus appeared to specific witnesses. After that, he explains why the resurrection matters for his readers, showing how it is connected to their own eternal life. Finally, in verses 24-25, he connects the resurrection to Jesus’s reign in heaven, stating that Jesus must reign until all His enemies are put under His feet. And then there’s Paul’s gospel presentation in Philippians 2:5-11 which says: Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus, who, although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men. Being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. For this reason also, God highly exalted Him, and bestowed on Him the name which is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee will bow, of those who are in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and that every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. (Philippians 2:5-11) Paul’s highlights here include the pre-existence of Christ in divine form, his voluntary self-emptying and incarnation as a human being, his life of servanthood, his obedient death on the cross, his subsequent exaltation by God, and his universal lordship over all creation, in heaven, on earth, and under the earth. Notice where the story ends in all three of those gospel messages. With Jesus as a ruling, authoritative king in heaven. That’s the climax. Not the cross. The throne. Different people will need to enter this story from a different angle. The guilt-ridden need to hear about the death that cleanses. The enslaved need to hear about the king who broke the powers. The skeptic needs the historical witnesses. The person drowning in meaninglessness needs to know history has a king and a destination. The entry point varies. But the destination is always the same: Jesus is the rightful king of the universe, not one option among many, but the actual Lord to whom every life is accountable. PART TWO: WHAT IS FAITH? But now that we know what the gospel actually is, we need to know how do we respond to it? And that brings us to Part Two of this presentation: what is the meaning of faith? We know that the correct response to hearing the gospel is faith. We have heard it all of our lives. The problem is, we have forgotten what that word means too, and it is causing significant problems. The Greek word pistis, which is often translated as “faith,” has been so stripped of its original meaning that what most Christians mean when they say “have faith” has very little to do with what Paul meant when he wrote the word pistis. Here’s how Matthew Bates, author of Salvation by Allegiance Alone and Gospel Allegiance, puts it: pistis, generally rendered as faith or belief, as it pertains to Christian salvation, quite simply has little correlation with faith and belief as these words are generally understood and used in contemporary Christian culture, and much to do with what we think of as “allegiance.” Now, an important clarification before we go any further. Nobody is arguing that pistis means allegiance in every single place it appears in the New Testament. The word has a genuine range of meaning, and most of those meanings are perfectly captured by our English words. When a leper comes to Jesus and says I believe you can heal me, that’s trust, that’s confidence, and “faith” is exactly the right translation. When Jesus says “your faith has made you well,” nobody needs to redefine anything. The argument is narrower than that. It’s specifically about the salvation passages, the texts where Paul and the other New Testament writers describe what it means to respond to the gospel, what puts you in right standing before God. In those passages, pistis means something far richer than what most modern Christians picture when they hear the word “believe.” As we saw, Matthew Bates, and many scholars agree with him, proposes that the best English translation of pistis in this context is allegiance. Here’s why that word fits. In political and royal contexts, and this is well established in the Greek literature of the New Testament era, pistis consistently carries the me

    22 min
  3. Life Is a Test: Suffering and the Meaning of Life

    Mar 22

    Life Is a Test: Suffering and the Meaning of Life

    There’s a kind of honesty that sounds cruel at first but turns out to be exactly what people need to hear. In 1914, Ernest Shackleton reportedly placed an advertisement in a London newspaper for his Antarctic expedition. The ad read something like this: Men wanted for hazardous journey. Low wages, bitter cold, long months of complete darkness, constant danger. Safe return doubtful. Honour and recognition in case of success. Whether the ad is apocryphal or not, the story endures because it captures something true about human nature — the brutal honesty of it didn’t drive people away. It drew them in. Something in us responds to a call that tells the truth about the cost, because when the stakes are real, the reward is real too. I want to make a similar case here. What I’m about to say might sound harsh — but I think it’s exactly what people need to hear. Life contains real tests. Your choices have real, eternal consequences. The suffering you’re going through right now is the very place where that test is being administered. And the outcome of that test is not just about whether you become a better person or whether God uses your pain for some greater good down the road. The outcome could be about heaven or hell. I genuinely believe that hard truth is actually more encouraging and steadying for the person lying in a hospital bed than anything they’ll typically hear from a Christian trying to explain their suffering. Not because it’s easy — it isn’t. But because it’s real. And people who are suffering don’t need comfortable half-answers. They need to know that what they’re going through actually matters, that there is a real enemy trying to use their pain against them, and that there is a real and eternal reward waiting for those who endure faithfully even unto death. But we need to build the case carefully. So let’s start at the beginning. Everything Downstream of One Conviction Before we get to suffering, we have to talk about the theological premise that makes all of this necessary. If once saved, always saved (OSAS) is true, then nothing in this post matters much. Whatever you do, however you behave in your suffering, the end is secured. But if OSAS isn’t true — if free will really matters and your choices genuinely have eternal consequences — then everything changes. Free will, when you actually believe in it, is a serious thing. It’s much more comfortable to believe it’s all going to work out no matter what you do. But if your choices really matter, then the question of what your suffering means stops being merely pastoral or philosophical. It becomes urgent. It becomes a matter of life and death. What the Bible Actually Says About Testing There are not one or two isolated verses about testing in the Bible. There is a consistent, pervasive, Old Testament-to-New Testament pattern of God explicitly testing people to see what they will do. The Old Testament Pattern Genesis 22:11–12 — When Abraham raised the knife over his son and the angel of the Lord stopped him, God’s own explanation for what had just happened was this: “Do not stretch out your hand against the lad, and do nothing to him; for now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from Me.” Deuteronomy 8:2 — Moses, looking back on forty years in the wilderness, gives us the interpretive key for that entire season of Israel’s history: “You shall remember all the way which the LORD your God has led you in the wilderness these forty years, that He might humble you, testing you, to know what was in your heart, whether you would keep His commandments or not.” The wilderness, in its totality, was a test. The explicit goal was to find out what was in their hearts — whether they would obey or not. And it’s worth pausing here to remember that many people failed that test catastrophically. The earth swallowed some of them. Others were destroyed. This was not a test with automatic grace for failure. The consequences were real. Deuteronomy 13:3 — On false prophets who might arise and perform signs: “You shall not listen to the words of that prophet or that dreamer of dreams; for the LORD your God is testing you to find out if you love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul.” Judges 3:4 — On the pagan nations left in Canaan after the conquest: “They were for testing Israel, to find out if they would obey the commandments of the LORD, which He had commanded their fathers through Moses.” God left nations there — nations that would tempt Israel toward idolatry, toward compromise, toward sin — on purpose, as a test, to see what Israel would do. The surrounding culture is not an obstacle to the test. The surrounding culture is the test. Exodus 16:4 — Even the manna in the wilderness was a test: “Then the LORD said to Moses, ‘Behold, I will rain bread from heaven for you; and the people shall go out and gather a day’s portion every day, that I may test them, whether or not they will walk in My instruction.’” 2 Chronicles 32:31 — Of King Hezekiah: “Even in the matter of the envoys of the rulers of Babylon, who sent to him to inquire of the wonder that had happened in the land, God left him alone only to test him, that He might know all that was in his heart.” Jeremiah 17:10 — A summary statement from God Himself: “I, the LORD, search the heart, I test the mind, even to give to each man according to his ways, according to the results of his deeds.” The Book of Job: The Test Laid Bare Job is the Old Testament’s most transparent window into why testing happens and what is actually at stake. We get to see the backstage conversation that usually remains hidden. Here is Job: blameless, upright, fearing God, turning away from evil. And Satan comes before the Lord with a charge. The charge is not that Job is a sinner. The charge is that Job’s righteousness is bought — that he serves God only because God blesses him. Take away the blessing, Satan says, and Job will curse God to his face. What is at stake in the book of Job? Exactly one thing: whether Job will sin. That’s it. Everything — the loss of his children, his wealth, his health, the horrific suffering of his body — is all organized around that single question. Will he sin? Will he curse God? And the answer, at the end, is: “In all this, Job did not sin.” Job passes. And I believe one of the reasons he passes — is that what God initially says about him is true, he has a genuine fear of God. He knows, in some form, that sin has real consequences in the afterlife. m The New Testament Raises the Stakes The New Testament picks up this testing theme and sharpens it.line. James 1:12: “Blessed is a man who perseveres under trial; for once he has been approved, he will receive the crown of life which the Lord has promised to those who love Him.” This is an if-then statement with eternity on both sides. Once he has been approved — that approval is not guaranteed. The blessing is conditional on perseverance. The crown of life is what’s at stake. Luke 8:13 — Jesus himself, explaining the Parable of the Sower: “Those on the rocky soil are those who, when they hear, receive the word with joy; and these have no firm root; they believe for a while, and in time of temptation fall away.” Jesus is not describing unbelievers who never responded to the gospel. He is describing people who heard, who received the word with joy, who believed. These are people who had a genuine response to the message of the kingdom — and then, in time of temptation, fell away. 1 Thessalonians 3:4–5 — Paul writing to the Thessalonians about why he sent Timothy to check on them: “For indeed when we were with you, we kept telling you in advance that we were going to suffer affliction… For this reason, when I could endure it no longer, I also sent to find out about your faith, for fear that the tempter might have tempted you, and our labor would be in vain.” This passage is a remarkable window into how Paul actually thought about suffering and temptation. Notice what he was afraid of. Not that the Thessalonians had become discouraged. Not that they had lost hope or grown weary. He was afraid that the tempter had gotten to them — that Satan had used their suffering as an opportunity, and that their faith had not survived it. And notice what that would have meant: Paul’s labor would have been in vain. Not diminished. Not partially wasted. Vain. Revelation 2:10: “Do not fear what you are about to suffer. Behold, the devil is about to cast some of you into prison, so that you will be tested, and you will have tribulation for ten days. Be faithful until death, and I will give you the crown of life.” These are Christians. They are going to suffer. They are going to be tested. And the instruction is: be faithful until death. The implication of that instruction is clear — faithfulness is required, and its absence has consequences. The crown of life is not promised to those who simply endure passively. It is promised to those who are faithful in the endurance. The Two Typical Explanations Of Suffering — And What They Miss When Christians suffer, there are typically two explanations offered, both of them biblical, both of them true, and both of them incomplete. The first is Romans 8:28 — God is going to work this together for good. Something redemptive will come out of this. You don’t know what He’s doing, but He’s doing something. He’s going to use your cancer, your loss, your crisis, to accomplish something good in this world. The second is the refining explanation — suffering is the fire that purifies gold. It is producing something in you. Romans 5:3–4: “We also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope.” Both of these are real. Both a

    23 min
  4. What Is Faith, Really? Why the Greek Word Pistis Changes Everything

    Mar 7

    What Is Faith, Really? Why the Greek Word Pistis Changes Everything

    A deep dive into the gospel, allegiance, and why understanding one Greek word resolves some of the New Testament’s most perplexing tensions. Most of us think we know what faith is. You believe something. Maybe you trust it. It happens in your head, it’s invisible, and according to a lot of modern Christianity, that’s basically the whole thing — have the right belief in the right moment, and you’re in. But what if the word we translate as “faith” in the New Testament carries a far richer, more demanding, and ultimately more liberating meaning than that? This post is inspired by two scholars who have done substantial work on this question: Matthew Bates, author of Salvation by Allegiance Alone and Gospel Allegiance, and Scot McKnight, author of The King Jesus Gospel. Their thesis — and I think it’s compelling — is that we’ve fundamentally misunderstood both what the gospel is and what faith means. And getting both of those things wrong has enormous consequences for how we live as Christians. First Things First: What Is the Gospel? Before we can talk about faith as a response to the gospel, we have to be clear on what the gospel actually is. Because there’s a good chance your picture of it is incomplete. Both Bates and McKnight argue — and I think the early church would agree — that the gospel is the objective facts concerning the entire career of Jesus as Messiah. That includes: * His pre-existence (he was with God in the beginning) * His incarnation * His death for sins * His burial * His resurrection * His post-resurrection appearances * His enthronement at the right hand of the Father * The sending of the Holy Spirit * His future return This is why the four books are called Gospels — Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John — the whole story matters. Paul lays this out explicitly in 1 Corinthians 15:3-8: “For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received, that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, and that He was buried, and that He was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures, and that He appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve. After that He appeared to more than five hundred brethren at one time, most of whom remain until now, but some have fallen asleep; then He appeared to James, then to all the apostles; and last of all, as to one untimely born, He appeared to me also.” And in Romans 1:1-4: “Paul, a bond-servant of Christ Jesus, called as an apostle, set apart for the gospel of God, which He promised beforehand through His prophets in the holy Scriptures, concerning His Son, who was born of a descendant of David according to the flesh, who was declared the Son of God with power by the resurrection from the dead, according to the Spirit of holiness, Jesus Christ our Lord.” The gospel, in this framing, is the story of how Jesus became the Christ — the Anointed One, the Messiah, the King. If you think about it from the perspective of a first-century Jew, the whole point was convincing them that this man, Jesus, is the promised King. That’s why Matthew’s Gospel opens with a genealogy tracing Jesus back to David. It’s legal evidence for the throne. You’re not just announcing a theology — you’re announcing a coronation. Yes, “he died for our sins” is in there. But notice what Paul does and doesn’t say in 1 Corinthians 15. He says Jesus died for our sins. He does not explain the mechanism of how that death accomplishes forgiveness — no atonement theory is named. What he does do is spend considerable time establishing the resurrection, the appearances, and the reality of the risen Christ. The death is one part of a larger royal story. You could say it’s roughly one-tenth of the total picture. The gospel, then, is everything that convinces you that Jesus is the rightful King of the Universe — the King of Kings and Lord of Lords to whom all power and authority in heaven and earth have been given. So What Does It Mean to Have “Faith” in That King? Here’s where things get really interesting — and where a single Greek word becomes a kind of Rosetta Stone for the entire New Testament. The Greek word translated as “faith” or “believe” throughout the New Testament is πίστις (pistis). Its verbal form is πιστεύω (pisteuo). In modern English, we typically render these as “believe” or “trust” — mental states, things that happen inside your head. You assent to a proposition. You trust that something is true. That’s it. But Matthew Bates argues — with considerable historical and linguistic evidence — that in its first-century context, especially when used in relation to kings and kingdoms, pistis carried a much richer meaning: faithfulness, fidelity, loyalty, allegiance. Not a one-time mental event, but an active, ongoing state of being a faithful subject. Bates puts it this way: pistis is better understood not as “faith” in the passive, intellectual sense, but as allegiance — the kind of sworn loyalty a subject owes to a king. The Evidence: Josephus and the Language of Kings One of the most illuminating pieces of evidence Bates presents comes from the Jewish historian Josephus, who wrote in Greek roughly contemporaneously with the New Testament authors. In his autobiography, Josephus recounts a moment where he commands a rebel leader to “repent and believe in me” — using the very same Greek root (pistis). The context makes clear that Josephus is not asking for a religious conversion or a change of mental propositions. He is commanding the rebel to turn away from his current course of action and become a loyal, obedient subject of Josephus as his military commander. The “belief” in question was a public declaration of loyalty expressed through obedience. That is what pistis meant in the real-world context of rulers and subjects. When a king announced his reign, the required pistis from his subjects wasn’t merely believing that he was king. It was pledging allegiance to him and demonstrating that allegiance through obedience. Bates also points to passages like Romans 1:5 and Romans 16:26, which use the phrase “the obedience of faith” (hypakoē pisteōs). This isn’t faith plus obedience as two separate things. It’s the obedience that flows from allegiance — the obedience that is inherent to what faithfulness means. How This Resolves the New Testament’s “Contradictions” This is the part I find most exciting, because it resolves what looks like a hopeless tangle of competing salvation requirements in the New Testament. Let me walk through it. The “free grace” camp points to John 3:16: “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.” And they say: all you have to do is believe. One mental act. Done. But then the Church of Christ tradition points to Acts 2:38: “Peter said to them, ‘Repent, and each of you be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.’” And they say: you must be baptized. It’s right there. And then there’s Luke 13:3, where Jesus says: “I tell you, no, but unless you repent, you will all likewise perish.” So now we need repentance. And Romans 10:9: “that if you confess with your mouth Jesus as Lord, and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved.” So now we need public confession too. And Matthew 24:13: “But the one who endures to the end, he will be saved.” Endurance to the end. And James 2:24: “You see that a man is justified by works and not by faith alone.” Works. Explicitly not faith alone. And Romans 2:13: “for it is not the hearers of the Law who are just before God, but the doers of the Law will be justified.” Doers, not hearers. So which is it? Believe? Repent? Be baptized? Confess publicly? Endure to the end? Do works? The answer is: all of them, and they’re all the same thing. When you understand pistis as allegiance, all of these passages snap into a unified picture. Bending the knee to Jesus as King — genuinely, not just intellectually — necessarily implies: * Repentance (metanoia — literally “a change of mind/direction”): You turn 180 degrees away from your previous lord (yourself, sin, the world) and toward Jesus as your Lord. Repentance toward God simply means you’ve decided that He is now your King. * Baptism: If you’ve just declared Jesus your Lord and he says “get baptized,” you get baptized. That’s what allegiance means. You do what the king says. * Public confession: Pledging allegiance to a king was always a public act. You don’t whisper it privately. You declare it. * Endurance: Allegiance is not a one-time event. A knight who pledged fealty to a king and then switched sides two years later wasn’t a faithful subject — he was a traitor. Enduring to the end is what faithfulness looks like over a lifetime. * Works: If you call someone your Lord but never do anything he says, you don’t actually think he’s your Lord. Jesus makes this point with devastating clarity in Luke 6:46: “Why do you call Me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ and do not do what I say?” James is making the exact same point: works aren’t an addition to faith; they’re the evidence of it. Faith without works is dead because faithfulness without action isn’t faithfulness at all. The Luther Problem At this point, you might be wondering: why haven’t we always understood it this way? The answer involves one towering historical figure: Martin Luther. Luther’s great contribution to Western Christianity — the doctrine of justification by faith alone (sola fide) — was forged in polemical reaction to a corrupt Catholic system of indulgences and purchased merit. And in many ways, he was right to push back on that system. But in doing so, he overcorrected in a way that has shaped Protestant Christ

    33 min
  5. Jan 29

    The Lord's Prayer - Part 3 - Matthew 6:13 - Vine Abiders

    In Part 3 of the Lord’s Prayer series, we focus on the line:“And do not lead us into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”This portion of the prayer is often misunderstood, but it turns out to be one of the most practical and powerful parts of Jesus’ teaching on prayer—especially when understood as a daily prayer for strength, protection, and faithfulness. Strength for Today, Not Tomorrow One of the central takeaways from this teaching is the idea that the Lord’s Prayer trains believers to pray for today’s needs, not tomorrow’s anxieties. Just as we pray for daily bread, we are also meant to pray for daily strength. Scripture repeatedly warns against carrying tomorrow’s burdens today, reminding us that each day has enough trouble of its own. When prayer is focused on the present day, it changes how we walk through life. Even small challenges—meetings, difficult conversations, emotional strain, distractions, impatience—become worthy of prayer. This creates a posture of constant dependence on God, not just during crises but throughout ordinary life. Over time, this daily focus builds faith, as we begin to see God’s help in specific, concrete ways. Trials vs. Temptation: An Important Distinction A key issue addressed in this teaching is the apparent tension in Scripture: * Jesus teaches us to pray, “Lead us not into temptation.” * James tells us that God does not tempt anyone. The resolution lies in understanding the Greek word peirasmos, which can mean either trial or temptation, depending on context. Trials are often allowed—and even appointed—by God for growth and maturity. Temptation, however, comes from the evil one, who seeks to use those trials as opportunities for sin. God may allow trials, but He does not tempt. Instead, Satan works within trials, attempting to draw believers into bitterness, rebellion, unbelief, or outright sin. This is why the prayer does not ask to avoid all hardship, but instead asks for protection and deliverance within hardship. A Prayer of Daily Spiritual Warfare This portion of the Lord’s Prayer is best understood as a daily spiritual warfare prayer. Spiritual warfare is not limited to dramatic encounters or deliverance ministries—it is primarily about resisting temptation. Scripture consistently frames the Christian life as a call to stand firm against the devil by faith, obedience, and reliance on God. When we pray, “Deliver us from the evil one,” we are asking God to: * Protect us from Satan’s schemes * Strengthen us where we are weakest * Guard our hearts and minds in moments of pressure * Provide a way of escape when temptation arises This prayer acknowledges that the enemy is real, active, and intentional—and that we need God’s help daily to remain faithful. Job as the Model: Faithfulness Without Sin The Book of Job provides one of the clearest biblical pictures of what is truly at stake in trials. Job’s suffering was extreme, but the central question of the book is not why bad things happen, but why Job does not sin. Despite grief, loss, physical pain, and pressure from those around him, Job refuses to curse God or abandon his integrity. Scripture repeatedly emphasizes this point: “In all this, Job did not sin.” His victory was not emotional strength or composure—it was faithfulness. This challenges the common assumption that spiritual success in trials means feeling peaceful or positive. Instead, the real victory is resisting bitterness, resentment, and rebellion, even when circumstances are unbearable. The “Evil Day” and Spiritual Growth Scripture speaks of seasons called “the evil day”—periods of intense testing that offer the potential for maximum spiritual growth. These moments are not automatically beneficial. Growth only occurs if believers stand firm in holiness rather than giving in to sin. Trials can either refine faith or harden hearts. The difference lies in how we respond. The Lord’s Prayer equips believers for both ordinary days and extraordinary trials by teaching us to seek God’s strength before temptation overwhelms us. Why Resisting Sin Matters The teaching also explores why Satan is so invested in tempting believers to sin. Biblically, sin leads to death, and death is described as the domain over which Satan exercises power. The mission of Christ was not merely to forgive sins, but to destroy the works of the devil and free humanity from bondage to sin and death. Resisting temptation is not a minor issue—it is central to spiritual freedom. Scripture presents salvation as a transfer from the domain of darkness into the kingdom of Christ. Each act of obedience reinforces that freedom; each surrender to sin strengthens bondage. The Heart of the Prayer When understood fully, “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one” can be paraphrased like this: Father, I accept the trials you have appointed for me today, knowing they are meant for my good. But protect me from the evil one who seeks to use them to lead me into sin. Give me the strength I need today to remain faithful. This is not a prayer for an easy life—it is a prayer for victory, faithfulness, and perseverance. Final Encouragement The Lord’s Prayer is not meant to be rushed or recited thoughtlessly. It is a framework for daily dependence on God, training believers to seek His provision, forgiveness, protection, and strength one day at a time. When prayed with intention, it becomes a powerful weapon in daily spiritual warfare. To stay connected, subscribe to the Vine Abiders Substack:👉 This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit vineabiders.substack.com

    59 min
  6. Jan 15

    The Lord’s Prayer - Part 2 - Matthew 6:12 - Vine Abiders

    In Part Two of our study of the Lord’s Prayer, we turn our attention to one of Jesus’ most challenging and weighty petitions: “Forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.” (Matthew 6:12) These words force us to wrestle with forgiveness—not only God’s forgiveness toward us, but our responsibility to forgive others. This teaching explores what Jesus truly meant, how the early Church understood this prayer, and why forgiveness remains central to abiding in Christ today. --- What Does “Debts” Really Mean? One of the first questions this passage raises is why Matthew uses the word *debts*, while Luke records Jesus saying *sins*, and many Christians are familiar with the word *trespasses*. When examined closely, these terms all describe the same spiritual reality: wrongdoing before God. A “debt” is something owed. In a spiritual sense, sin places us in a position of obligation before God—an obligation we cannot repay on our own. Jesus’ language emphasizes our complete dependence on God’s mercy rather than our own merit. --- Why Do Believers Keep Asking for Forgiveness? A common modern assumption is that forgiveness is a one-time event that permanently covers all future sins. However, Jesus teaches His disciples—already followers—to pray regularly for forgiveness. This implies that forgiveness is not merely a past transaction but an ongoing relational reality. Scripture repeatedly affirms this pattern. First John calls believers to confess their sins. James urges Christians to repent. Jesus Himself instructs His disciples to pray daily for forgiveness. These passages show that repentance and forgiveness are part of a living, abiding relationship with God, not a formality reserved for conversion alone. --- Forgiveness Is Relational, Not Merely Legal Throughout the New Testament, forgiveness is presented as relational rather than purely judicial. God’s forgiveness restores fellowship, cleanses the conscience, and renews intimacy with Him. When sin is ignored or unconfessed, that relationship is damaged—not because God stops loving us, but because sin disrupts communion. Early Church writers consistently affirmed this understanding. Figures such as Clement of Rome, John Chrysostom, and Cyril of Jerusalem taught that repentance and forgiveness were ongoing necessities in the Christian life. For them, Jesus’ prayer was meant to be lived, not merely recited. --- “As We Forgive Our Debtors” Perhaps the most sobering part of this prayer is that Jesus directly links God’s forgiveness of us to our forgiveness of others. This is not an isolated teaching. Jesus reiterates it immediately after the Lord’s Prayer, and it appears repeatedly throughout the Gospels. Unforgiveness, Scripture warns, hardens the heart, breeds bitterness, and places the believer in spiritual danger. Forgiving others is not optional or secondary—it is essential to faithful discipleship. To refuse forgiveness is to contradict the mercy we ourselves depend on. --- The Spiritual Danger of Unforgiveness The teaching emphasizes that unforgiveness does real spiritual harm. It distorts our view of God, damages relationships, and can lead to drifting away from Christ. Jesus’ warnings about forgiveness are not threats meant to produce fear, but loving cautions meant to keep believers rooted in humility and grace. Forgiveness does not excuse wrongdoing or ignore justice. Instead, it releases our claim to vengeance and entrusts judgment to God. --- Abiding Through Repentance and Mercy At its core, this petition of the Lord’s Prayer calls believers to a life of ongoing repentance, humility, and mercy. To abide in Christ is to remain responsive to conviction, quick to confess sin, and eager to forgive others just as we have been forgiven. Jesus teaches us to pray this way because He desires a living, relational faith—one marked by dependence on God’s grace and love for others. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit vineabiders.substack.com

    54 min

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About

Theological studies with Chris White an author, filmmaker and podcaster. Holiness, Wesleyan, Early Church. vineabiders.substack.com

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