Biblical Theology

[Here is the Introduction to The Six Pillars of Biblical Power: Real Theology for the Grass Roots, © 2008 John C. Rankin]

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Introduction 

The Power to Give or the Power to Take? 

 “There are two choices in life: Give and it will be given, or take before you are taken.”

   I spoke these words spontaneously, in the context of marriage, while addressing an audience of some 550 people at Smith College in Northampton, Massachusetts. It was November of 1994, during one of my series of Mars Hill Forums. My guest was Patricia Ireland, then President of the National Organization for Women (NOW).

   I know of nothing in the depths of human experience that is not fully interpreted by this reality. And it is above all a question of power.

   What is power? It is the ability to accomplish a desired outcome. The power to give will do that for any healthy goal. But the power to take before you are taken will only devolve into self-destruction. It is ultimately impotent, and equals the inability to attain any desired outcome. 

Biblical Theology 

   The foundational reality of the power to give is the starting point of biblical theology, and for the six pillars of biblical power. And these pillars sum up the whole Bible.

   For many people, the word “theology” is mystical, theoretical or terrifying. It all depends on our various experiences with it. The principal fear can be with people or churches that are, in reality or perception, seeking to “shove religion down our throats.” I agree – I do not want anything shoved down my throat, especially sideways.

   But also for me, true theology is both energizing and the source for real freedom. “Theology” comes from two Greek roots, theos for God, and logos for word. It is simply means “God’s Word” or “the study of God’s Word.”

   Do we have interest in theology, and its practical effect on our daily lives? Does biblical theology serve human freedom? I argue that it is the only source for true freedom. Do we pursue qualities such as peace, order, stability and hope, to live, to love, to laugh and to learn? I believe these qualities of the image of God are universal, we all pursue them, and they can only be rooted, fully, in biblical theology.

   This is real theology for the grass roots level where all of us live our daily lives, and which, if it percolates from there, can transform nations.

   I love the in-depth study of biblical theology. And for that reason, I desire especially for its beauty to be grasped by the widest range of people – all of us who want a solid grounding in life. This book is thus a simple, yet substantial, summation of real theology, and with the most practical of implications.  

Only Genesis 

   To set the table for the six pillars of biblical power, we need to start with Biblical Theology 101. Namely, what is the nature of the Bible on its own terms? We need to be freed from post-biblical prisms by which most of us see the Bible, whether in terms of church history or various doctrinal grids.

   There are five elements here, the fifth of which is our focus in these pages. And the compound term, “Only Genesis,” will prove pivotal. 

Story 

   First, the Bible is the greatest story ever told, indeed, the only fully true story. It is the historical narration of the acts of the Creator on behalf of man and woman, we who are made in God’s image.

   In other words, it is the story of God’s relationship and conversation with us, and ours with one another. Only when we enter into and understand the storyline of the Bible, of these relationships, does true doctrine emerge. Biblical doctrine, or teaching, is rooted in the storyline. It is sterile otherwise. 

Creation, Sin and Redemption 

   Second, we can note that the entire Bible is based on Genesis 1-3 and its three all-defining doctrines of:

         Creation > sin > redemption.

   The word “fall” can be inserted in place of “sin,” as it describes what the first sin did to man and woman – they fell from God’s original place, and need to be lifted back. But too, the word “sin” describes both the original fall and its consequences, so I use it as the primary term. “Sin” is a word that is easily misunderstood. It essentially means brokenness of trust, and we all know that from one or many angles.

   There are two metaphors we can use to describe these doctrines. The first is directional in nature:

         The order of creation > the reversal > the reversal of the reversal.

   The second is organic in nature: 

         The wholeness of creation > the brokenness of sin > the restoration to wholeness. 

   The order of creation is the root of all truth and reality in time and space. 

   From the beginning, God established the order of creation, and our lives, according to a set plan that was intended for our greatest joy as his image-bearers. But through a disobedient act of the will, Adam and Eve and the whole human race have submitted to a reversal of that order, and we reap the painful consequences. Sin can thus be understood as a reversal, as brokenness. It is a reversal in that it goes in the wrong direction. It is brokenness in that it breaks relationship with God, with one another and the wholeness of his creation. Following the inception of human sin, God instituted the reversal of the reversal, the redemptive process designed to purchase us back from the slavery of sin – to restore to us the original purposes, trajectory and wholeness of the order of creation.

   The word “redemption” means to buy back out of slavery. Slavery, by definition, is the loss of an original freedom. Thus, we can also define the doctrines of creation, sin and redemption this way:

         Freedom > slavery > return to freedom.

   In the Apostles Creed and Nicene Creed, this reality of creation, sin and redemption provides the structure of classic Christian confession – God the Creator, Jesus who rescues us from sin as the Redeemer, and the Holy Spirit who sanctifies the redeemed believer.

   We cannot participate in the reversal of the reversal without first knowing what the reversal is, and we cannot know what the reversal is apart from first knowing the order of creation. Indeed, I am convinced that the more time we invest into understanding the genius, simplicity and depth of God’s order of creation in Genesis 1-2, the more we will have power to understand the rest of Scripture, history and life. We can make a generalization that will repeatedly evidence itself in specific contexts:

         Creation is simple and true;

         Sin makes things needlessly complex in its dishonesty; and

         Redemption restores us to simplicity and honesty. 

   Occam’s Razor (from William of Ockham in the 14th century) is applicable:

         Reduce needless redundancies, or the simplest explanation is usually the truest one.

   To put it another way:

         Honesty can uniquely afford to keep things simple.

   The challenge is to learn the simplicity of the order of creation, and in the midst of the complexity of the reversal, to apply the simplicity, and so arrive at the integrity of the reversal of the reversal. If this rootedness in creation is not secure, then the storms and currents of sin’s complexities can drown us, even as we struggle for redemption.

   Another way to consider the reality of creation, sin and redemption is by analogy to music. Music requires mathematical and poetic order, and Genesis 1-2 evidences this beautifully. No cacophony as with pagan origin stories. But more profound yet, classical music that ministers to the human soul is rooted in:

         Equilibrium > tension > resolution; or

         Home > away from home > home again. 

   Anyone trained in music knows this well. The elements of tension can be repeated, heightened and lengthened in a musical score, and so heighten the glory of the resolution, the return home. Pagan music that stays inside the tension motif reflects its theological error. Wolfgang Mozart (1756-91) was once reputed to run downstairs when awakened by someone playing the piano, and who stopped at a point of unresolved tension. Mozart hit the resolution note and returned to bed, now able to sleep. 

God, Life, Choice and Sex 

   Third, in the order of creation there are four all-defining subjects addressed, with God being the first subject from which all else follows:

         God > life > choice > sex.

   These are the only four subjects in the universe we ever need to deal with, and they are defined in the order of creation. Or to put it another way, every issue we confront finds its basis in how these four subjects are defined and how they relate to each other.

   These subjects equal the content of Genesis 1-2:

            God is sovereign, and his purpose in creation is to give the gift of life, especially

         human life – man and woman as made in his image to rule over his handiwork.

         Then comes the gift of moral and aesthetic choice that serves the prior gift of

         human life. Finally, in the order of creation, is the gift of sex within marriage: Here

         is the power to pass on the gifts of life, choice and sex through procreation to our

         offspring, to celebrate the height of what it means to be made in God’s image. 

   Or to put it another way, true sexuality is an expression of godly choice that serves the gift of human life that comes from God.

   The reversal of the order of creation is thus:

         Sex > choice > life >/God.

   This reversal order is where promiscuous sexuality employs choice to hide from undesired consequences, and some of these choices injure or destroy human life, all in an affront against God the Creator.

   The word “promiscuous” refers to an indiscriminate mixture, and often in terms of multiple sexual partners; but I am using it at its basic level where any sexual mixture outside of marriage is indiscriminate, uncommitted, uncovenantal, and thus promiscuous – from the Latin roots of pro + misc[ere], to be “pro-mixture.” As well, when I use the word “marriage” in true context, I am referring to that which is heterosexual, faithful and monogamous.

   The observation of these terms, as a summation of the content of Genesis 1-2, is an example of real theology at the grass roots.

   When we consider the nature of human abortion, with all its pain and betrayals that lead to such desperation for abandoned women, we are dealing head-on with the real world. In the mid-1980s I was addressing a fund-raising banquet for a Crisis Pregnancy Center in Ithaca, New York. In the middle of my talk I observed how the politics of this debate are framed by the self-chosen labels of “pro-life” and “pro-choice.” But I also saw this as a false conflict – both life and choice are good gifts of God, located in the order of creation. We cannot make any choice unless we are first alive, and a choice to destroy the life of another is not an informed choice. In other words, life defines choice.

   And, as I thought it out further, I noted that “pro-life” people are overwhelmingly rooted in a biblical sense of the nature of God, and that “pro-choice” people are overwhelmingly rooted in a sense of approving, or at least not disapproving, of sex outside of marriage. Thus the conflict can be portrayed this way:

         God > life > / < choice < sex.

   And this is really a conflict between the biblical and pagan views of the four subjects of the biblical order of creation:

         God > life > choice > sex, on the one hand, versus

         Sex > choice > life >/God, on the other.

   In fact, it also proves that there is no debated issue in human history that does not come down to these terms, and how they are defined.

   In a later debate at Ithaca College, the topic focused on human abortion. During the question and answer period, I spontaneously noted the four all-defining subjects in the universe, and introduced in Genesis 1-2. There was immediate skepticism from the audience, and in particular was one student glared at me, as if to say, “You can’t fool me. I know there are far more than four subjects.” But as I defined these subjects and applied them to the subject at hand, the skepticism waned noticeably.

   Which is to say, I would have likely never made this observation about God, life, choice and sex had I not been engaged with real issues, painful and divisive issues, in the face of genuine skeptics. In these pages, as I focus on the six pillars of biblical power, the backdrop of such prior biblical definitions will always be percolating beneath the surface. They are inescapable. 

The Ten Positive Assumptions of Only Genesis 

   Fourth, in the biblical order of creation, there are ten positive assumptions. When I use the term “only Genesis,” it is another way of speaking about the content of Genesis 1-2, the order of creation: 

  1. Only Genesis has a positive view of God’s nature (the power to give).
  2. Only Genesis has a positive view of communication (the power to live in the light).
  3. Only Genesis has a positive view of human nature.
  4. Only Genesis has a positive view of human freedom (the power of informed choice).
  5. Only Genesis has a positive view of hard questions (the power to love hard questions).
  6. Only Genesis has a positive view of human sexuality.
  7. Only Genesis has a positive view of science and the scientific method.
  8. Only Genesis has a positive view of verifiable history.
  9. Only Genesis has a positive view of covenantal law.
  10. Only Genesis has a positive view of unalienable rights and the First Amendment.

   These ten assumptions define the first volume of my trilogy, First the Gospel, Then Politics, and that volume is called Only Genesis. It was self-published in 1999, sold out, and will be edited and republished, hopefully, sometime in 2009. Volumes 2 and 3 are yet to come, where Volume 1 focuses on theology, Volume 2 focuses on politics and Volume 3 focuses on spiritual warfare.

   These ten positive assumptions reflect the integrity of biblical content introduced in the order of creation, and define virtually every known subject in the universe, and as infused by the prior definitions of God, life, choice and sex. These ten assumptions also equal the basis for a fully genuine and rigorous liberal arts education.

   Only Genesis is an in-depth theological study for those interested, and sets the context for the six pillars of biblical power in these pages. 

The Six Pillars of Biblical Power 

  Fifth and finally here, the six pillars of biblical power are distilled from ten positive assumptions. These assumptions and pillars are unique in their essence and wholeness, are not found in any pagan origin text or secular construct, and they are at the core of all that is good in human civilization.

   These pillars are ethical in nature. “Ethics” comes from the Greek terms ethos and ethikos, for “social customs or habits,” for how we treat people. And depending on context, “ethics” can be used either as a singular or plural term. “Ethics” as a term, apart from context, is by definition neutral – there are good ethics and there are evil ethics.        

   The six pillars equal the basis for the most Spirit-filled doctrine possible, doctrine that leads to transformed lives and a transformable world. In fact, these pillars, as believed and lived, lead to the highest standards and accountability to the work of the Holy Spirit in sanctification.

   The first four pillars are distilled from the ten positive assumptions, and were placed in parentheses in the listing of the ten assumptions above. The last two pillars are drawn from the order of redemption, which is to say, as a remedy for the broken trust of sin that assaulted the goodness of the first four pillars. Thus, the six pillars are these, and they literally sum up the whole Bible:

  1. The power to give.
  2. The power to live in the light.
  3. The power of informed choice.
  4. The power to love hard questions.
  5. The power to love enemies.
  6. The power to forgive.

The Gospel 

   With these five basic elements of Biblical Theology 101 in place, there are some other crucial terms to be defined, as subcategories of the above.

   First is the term “Gospel.” It is rooted in the Old Testament Hebrew root b’sar, meaning “good news,” and is introduced in the assumptions of Genesis 1 when God pronounced his creation “good” (tov). Then we see it in the New Testament Greek term euangelion, which means “good news,” and from which we derive the English term “evangelical.” Thus, tov and b’sar are the language of the order of creation, and euangelion is the language of the order of redemption. It is good news that God made the good creation for man and woman as his image-bearers. And it is good news, in the face of sin, that God has provided for our redemption from it. The order of creation is good news, the reversal is bad news, and the reversal of the reversal is good news.

   Only Genesis is Good News, as God pronounced all he made good. It is the root of the New Testament Gospel where Jesus is the “Messiah,” from the Hebrew for “the Anointed One,” for Jews and Gentiles alike. The redemptive centrality is clear in the opening words of Mark’s gospel: “The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God” (1:1). We who claim to be evangelical are those who believe in, live and preach the Good News of Jesus the “Christ,” from the Greek for “the Anointed One,” which fulfills the Gospel of only Genesis. The ten positive assumptions and the six pillars of biblical power are Good News. 

The Wesleyan Quadrilateral 

   Second, a vital faith begins with prima scriptura, or “Scripture first,” that is, the Bible on its own terms. Another way of looking at this is by considering what is historically known as the Wesleyan “quadrilateral” basis for authority in the Christian life:

         Scripture > tradition > reason > experience.

   This means Scripture – the 66 canonical books of the Bible – is regarded as the inspired and sufficient written word of God. On this basis, we affirm and support all church traditions that are consistent with Scripture, and we set aside those that are inconsistent. Thereafter, reason and intellectual rigor are received as God’s gifts and as intrinsic to a biblical worldview to begin with. Finally, the purpose of biblical faith is to experience God’s love. With Scripture, tradition and reason in place, such experience is properly rooted, and it flourishes.

   The reversal of the Wesleyan quadrilateral is:

         Experience > reason > tradition > Scripture.

   This is idolatry, and idolatry can be as explicit as goddess worship or pantheism, or as subtle as a wrong order of priorities. The most perversely successful idolatries worship something “good” instead of the God who made it good. Experience is good, but it is not God. Reason is good, but if untethered from the God who made the mind, it turns ultimately to evil. Tradition is good, but if it supplants Scripture, it becomes an idol. Politics is meant to serve the human good, but it is not God. Even the Bible can be reduced to an idol. We worship God who inspired the Bible, not the book itself. The Bible is meant to lead us to this true worship. 

A Radical Faith

   Third, biblical faith is radical.

    “Radical” comes from the Greek word radix and the Latin word radicalis, that which is “root level” or foundational. “Radical” is a good word when used properly.

   Biblical believers are thus called to be radical, to have a sure foundation that provides balance and strength, quite the opposite of being extreme or fanatical.

   To be radical is to be biblical. To be biblical is to be rooted in only Genesis, the only truly radical foundation in history. Thus, the ten positive assumptions and the six pillars of biblical power are radical – the most deeply rooted and foundational realities of how we relate to God and one another.  

   Radical ethics will lead us to:

  1. Give when taken;
  2. Bless when cursed; and
  3. Love when hated.

   Or, in other words, we have two choices in life – give and it will be given, or take and it will be taken.

   Biblical believers are called to reverse the reversal. The roots of time and history are in Genesis 1-3, so if we wish to be genuinely radical in rectifying the political evils of our time, the order of creation is where we start. 

The Image of God 

   And fourth, from the outset, we are all created in the image of God; we are the crown of his creation. In grasping this reality, we come to understand a common ground that is truly universal.

    At a debate in April 1989, at Brown University in Providence, Rhode Island, I spontaneously articulated some elements of the image of God. I was questioned about the issue of rape and incest. A young woman believed that the right to have an abortion should be available to those who became pregnant by such a violent act.

   I began to frame my response by looking directly at her and saying: “In your life, are you like me, seeking the qualities of peace, order, stability and hope?” As I spoke these words, I had her eyeball-to-eyeball attention, and the hundreds of students and faculty in the Sayles auditorium came to a hush. The century old seats, bolted to the floor, always creaking at the slightest movement, also ceased their chatter, producing a moment of intense focus. She said, “Yes.”

   I then said, “Is it also fair for me to assume, that like me, you also seek to live, to love, to laugh and to learn?” Again, the same focus of intensity defined the audience, the seats unmoving, and again she said, “Yes.”

   So I continued, “Then there is far more that unites us than divides us – we are seeking the same qualities. The question is, in the face of the hell of rape and incest, does abortion unrape the woman and restore to her the lost qualities of peace, order, stability and hope? Or does the abortion only add further brokenness?”

   The room continued its quiet, and I could have left the issue there. I knew that the resonation with the image of God, as represented by these qualities, was so complete in that moment that most students and faculty could answer the question themselves and deduce from there the reality I was addressing.

   In the content, pain and deep emotions of such a question, there is the need to draw on and, at least implicitly, identify the six pillars of biblical power. A brief review would show how rape, incest and human abortion oppose these six pillars. The true power of love is needed to redress the false power of rape.

   When I spontaneously defined these qualities of God’s image – peace, order, stability and hope; to live, to love, to laugh and to learn – they were immediately imprinted in my soul. They sum up well the theological realities of the image of God, and they make an easy acronym, the POSH Ls. I have identified and defined the POSH Ls ever since.

   In his 1971 song, “Slip Slidin’ Away,” Paul Simon addresses both social and theological concerns. In one verse he evokes the prospect of a father traveling a great distance to explain to a young son why he hasn’t been there for him. But fear and uncertainty creep in, and upon arrival, the father simply kisses the sleeping boy and leaves. Simon’s chorus then defines a truly ubiquitous moment: “Slip slidin’ away, slip slidin’ away, you know the nearer your destination the more you’re slip slidin’ away.”

   This is a fine poetic grasp of the theological nature of human sin – we strive for the qualities of the image of God, but it seems too often that the more steps we take forward, we actually make or yield to more backward steps. The six pillars provide the power to overcome obstacles to the reconciliations we seek. 

The Goodness of True Skepticism 

   So far, we have sought to define some key elements of Biblical Theology 101, and hence the basis for the six pillars of biblical power. One pillar is the love of hard questions, and it proves integrally related to the prior three rooted in the order of creation. I have written about real theology at the grass roots in how I first grasped the God ® life ® choice ® sex nature of only Genesis. So too does my whole theological grasp of the six pillars, all that constitutes Biblical Theology 101, find root in the fruit of an original and experiential skepticism. And from my experience in first seeking and finding God, I came naturally to embrace the Wesleyan quadrilateral in its foundation for genuine experience.

   From age six, I grew up in the Unitarian-Universalist Church, and there I was taught to be a skeptic of the Bible. As an eight-year old, in the fall of 1961, our Sunday School teacher read the story of Jesus feeding the five thousand men (plus women and children). She said up front, “And of course, we know that miracles cannot occur.” I thought to myself, Why not? I was skeptical. She continued to explain how what really happened was that Jesus inspired thousands of selfish people to unstuff their tunics, which were full of bread and fish, and share them with each other, all because Jesus inspired one little boy to bring forth his five small barley loaves and two small fish.

   I thought she was explaining too much, even though I had yet to learn of the social impossibility of such in first-century Jewish life, where modern individualism was a foreign concept. The people were away from the town spontaneously, it was late, no provisions had been made, and whatever food they had they would naturally share with one another, beginning with the needs of the children.

   Then, in the winter of 1962, our teacher turned to the Old Testament, starting with Genesis. She gave a detailed explanation of how Genesis was a primitive myth among primitive people who did not know science or other modern means of knowledge. So I thought, If it is a myth, why bother? I was again skeptical.

   Skepticism is good if used in pursuit of the truth. The goal is to test everything equally to see what proves true and what does not. That which proves true can be embraced with confidence, along with the freedom for the risk-taking nature of faith that follows. But skepticism employed to avoid the truth does not serve the good, nor true power. Thus, to be skeptical of the Bible is fine; it is a question of why, and to what end. Truth proves itself to the honest skeptic – and the truth of the six pillars of biblical power proves satisfying.

   In my skepticism of skepticism at this early age, I was rooted in a prior amazement at my existence in the face of an awesome universe. I remember wondering where space ended. To find out, I hitched a ride with Flash Gordon (that will date me) and traveled to the end of the universe. And do you know what we found? A brick wall with the words posted on it, “End of Universe.” Now it was a little comforting that in the age of Sputnik that the sign was in English and not Russian. But it was also unsatisfying. What was on the other side? And what was on the other side of the next wall?

   Then there were the questions about time and number. What happens one minute after time ends, or what is the biggest number? What is the biggest number plus one? And on and on. No one can deny the reality that this known universe, in which we can measure our existence, is bound by the necessary and helpful concepts of space, time and number. And we all acknowledge that since we can describe the limitations of these measurement devices, there must be something greater. And yet we cannot wrap ourselves around that which is greater, for we are finite and limited. Where does such a trajectory take us? 

A Skeptic Finds the Answer 

   In the face of this trajectory, I was nonetheless a self-conscious agnostic by age 14. An “agnostic” is someone who does not know if there is a God (from the Greek roots a + gnosis, “to be without knowledge”). But it was an open-ended agnosticism, which is to say I was always impressed by the beauty of the universe and amazed by my own existence and self-awareness. I was open to whatever truth proved to be, open to the idea of God. But I did not know one way or the other in the summer of 1967.

   I was in Boy Scout camp, and each Sunday we were required to attend chapel service. One Sunday morning, as I was getting dressed, one of my tent mates was resting on his cot. I asked him why he was not getting ready. He answered, “I am an atheist.” So I asked him, “What is an atheist?” He said that it meant he did not believe in God, and all I had to do to get out of chapel was to tell the scoutmaster that I was an atheist. I said, “But I don’t know.”

   That September, I began ninth grade (“third form”) at South Kent School, a small prep boarding school for boys in the Housatonic highlands of western Connecticut. South Kent had a daily chapel schedule rooted in the Episcopal liturgy.

   It was required, but I determined not to participate, saying to myself, I don’t believe this stuff. So I did not sing, recite, pray, genuflect or take communion. But that proved a “dangerous” thing to do. For while other students were participating at one level or another, I ended up occupying my mind reading the words of the liturgy and hymns, as they were recited and sung. I was interested in the possible existence of God.

   On November 1, I was standing outside the chapel in the interlude before walking down the hill to dinner. As the air pricked my spine, I felt alive. It was delightfully cold, and in those rural hills the Milky Way was exceptionally clear that evening – like a white paint stroke against a black canvas. I considered its awesome grandeur and beauty, and then I posed to myself this sequence of thought:

            If there is a God, then he must have made all this for a purpose, and that purpose

         must include my existence, and it must include the reason I am asking this question.

         And if this is true, then I need to get plugged into him. 

   I wanted to know either way, and I was convinced that if there were a God, then it would most be most natural to become rooted in my origins. To be radical before I knew what radical was. But I wanted verification. The “if” clauses were real.

   This was a commitment to myself, in the sight of the universe, in the sight of a possible God. It was in fact a prayer to an unknown God.

   One or several evenings later, I was the first student into chapel, taking my assigned seating in the small balcony. As I sat down and looked forward in the empty sanctuary, I said under my breath, “Good evening God.” Immediately I retorted to myself, “Wait a minute John. You don’t even know if there is a God. How can you say ‘good evening’ to him?”

   But also immediately, I became aware of a reality that was prior to and deeper than the intellect, of a truth that held the answer to any and all of my questions. There was a God, I knew deep within me, and I knew that I had just lied to myself by saying I did not know, even though it was only now that I knew I knew. My heart knew before my mind knew, but as part of the whole that my mind was now grasping. I had yet to speak it (see Romans 10:9-10).

   In this moment, God’s presence ratified the reality of my belief as I simultaneously discerned a Presence literally hovering over me, filling the entire balcony. And, critically, this Presence was hovering and waiting for my response. It was powerful, inviting and embracing. This all happened within a moment’s time, and I realized that I did believe. No sooner had I exhaled my agnostic retort, did I then inhale and say, “Yes I do [believe].” As I did, this literal presence of God descended upon and filled my entire being – heart, soul, mind and body.

   Now I knew nothing at the time of the divine name and nature of Yahweh’s presence and glory, as experienced by the Israelites in the exodus community with the tabernacle, and later in Solomon’s temple. Nor did I know anything of the gift of the Holy Spirit. Yet the grace of God came into my life that November evening, as he but gently crossed my path with a touch of his Presence. I asked an intellectual question in view of an awesome universe, and was answered by the Presence of the awesome Creator. 

The Six Pillars 

   With some Biblical Theology 101 in place, and with the trajectory of my love for hard questions as a key prism for my grasp of such theology, let’s look at the six pillars of biblical power. They are transformative for all who would embrace them.

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