Josh King

Paul Ain’t Carol Coleman or What is an Apostle? (1 Timothy 1:1-2)

You don’t have to get far into 1 Timothy in order to be able to preach a sermon. The first word will do, “Paul.” And I don’t mean a sermon that merely biographical. “This is Paul. Wow! Paul! Be like Paul!” I don’t have in mind the sermon that is repeated with every “hero” of the Bible that amounts to little more than a “baptized” morality; one of those “baptisms” where you say the person only got wet. No, I don’t mean a biographical, but a theological sermon. You can preach an expository sermon, faithful to the text, and only preach this first word, insofar as you are understanding how that word relates to the rest of the letter.

If this letter began “Larry,” it might be a great letter, doctrinally sound, and helpful in many ways, but one thing it certainly would not be is in the Bible. It is because of who Paul is that this letter is where it is, namely, in the Bible.

While I was at “Together for the Gospel” a pastor friend of mine happened upon a card, of a local, certainly not an attendee of the conference, with a picture of a woman who had taken the title, “Apostle Carol Coleman, End Time Prophetess, General in God’s Army.” We wondered what one has to do to carry the title “General in God’s Army.” But we do not have to wonder what Biblical title she should rightfully be given—“False Teacher.”

Apostleship is hand delivered by the nail-scarred hands of the resurrected Christ. Paul says that Jesus appeared to him last of all (1 Corinthians 15:8–9). When Jesus appeared to Paul He told him, “I have appeared to you for this purpose, to appoint you as a servant and witness to the things in which you have seen me and to those in which I will appear to you (Acts 26:16).” And apostle is a sent messenger. Jesus appears to Paul not only to send, but to give Paul a message. The authority and the message were received simultaneously, for Jesus was the source, and subject of Paul’s apostleship. Paul says one who aspires to the task of an overseer desires a noble task (1 Timothy 3:1). He says nothing like this concerning apostleship, not because it isn’t a noble task, but because one may not aspire to it. The number is closed.

In nine of Paul’s thirteen letters he mentions his apostleship in the greeting. In three of Paul’s letters (1 Corinthians, Galatians, and 1 Timothy) his apostleship receives special emphasis in the opening chapters. In the very greeting of two of those three (Galatians and 1 Timothy) the mention of Paul’s apostleship comes with a punch. Normally Paul would say something like, “Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God,” but here we are told that Paul is an apostle “by command of God our Savior and of Christ Jesus our hope.” He is commanded by the One he commends. Paul received his apostleship from the One who is his message, “God our Savior, Christ Jesus our Hope.” There are no other apostles. All teaching is to be compared with that of the apostles, and no teaching is to be esteemed above it. If you want the truth about Jesus, go to His apostles.

So when you see “Paul,” at the beginning of his letters, think that no small word. Paul’s name at the beginning of the letters we have in the New Testament means, “God’s Word.” Oh, that we would realize what we have in the 1 Timothy, and in all the Scriptures; words from the King to us through His authorized messengers.

The Dogmatician: Fresh Bread, Thousands of Years Old

It [the Bible] always speaks of the highest and holiest things, of eternal and invisible matters, in a human way. Like Christ, it does not consider anything human alien to itself. But for that reason it is a book for humanity and lasts till the end of time. It is old without ever becoming obsolete. It always remains young and fresh; it is the word of life. The word of God endures forever. —Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics

The Gospel Sandwich (Matthew 28:16-20)

Matthew 28:16–20 is made like a sandwich where it’s the bread that excites you more than the stuffings. More than the meat, cheese, sauce, or anything else in-between, it’s the bread-brackets that make this sandwich so delicious. Take away the bread and the meat is unpalatable, but with it, it’s unsurpassed.

Jesus said that His meat was to do the will of the Father. The meat, the will of the Father we are given to do in this text is known as the Great Commission, but it is surrounded by bread. Take away the bread and you can’t handle this sandwich, it all falls apart. Without the bread this task is beyond you, but with the bread, the Great Commission becomes doable and a delight. The bread is the Bread of Life, Jesus Christ.

The Great Commission is surrounded by the great declaration (“All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me”) and the great promise (“I am with you always, to the end of the age”)—the only bread that can hold this sandwich together. If the Great Commission were not sandwiched by the great declaration and the great promise it would be the great impossibility.

Actually this sandwich is Bread all the way through; Jesus from top to bottom. Jesus is on top as the authority, He is underneath empowering, and He is all through the middle. He is the gospel we declare—the Savior we call for them to trust, the Rabbi we call for them to follow, the King we call them to obey. This isn’t a sandwich, it’s a loaf; it’s Jesus all the way through. Let us eat with joy and let us tell others of this all-satisfying Bread. The eating will lead to the telling.

The Dogmatician: The Shadows Bring Out the Light

But in order to paint a full-length portrait of this image of Christ, human sin and satanic lies in all their horror would have to be pictured as well. Shadows are needed in this portrait in order to bring out the light more brilliantly. Sin, also when it occurs in the biblical saints, must be called sin, and error may not be excused even in them. And as the revelation of God in Christ incorporates unrighteousness within itself as antithesis, so also it does not spurn to include elements of hu-man weakness and human nature. Christ counted nothing human as alien to himself; and Scripture does not overlook even the most minor concerns of daily life (2 Tim. 4:13). Christianity is not antithetically opposed to that which is human but is its restoration and renewal. —Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics

The Gospel Needs No Slick Spokesman (Matthew 27:62–28:15)

Some Christians get as sinfully giggly and giddy as a teenybopper over the latest boy band coming to town when the latest celebrity professes Christ. When a celebrity, as when any person comes to Christ, we should rejoice like the angels in heaven, but we shouldn’t be so naive as to think that now the gospel will have some cred before the masses. We should rejoice when a professional athlete converts to Christ, not because they will make the gospel acceptable before men, but because the gospel makes them acceptable before God. They don’t dress up the gospel; the gospel dresses them up.

When Jesus rose from the dead it was first witnessed by women. They were at His cross, they were at His burial, and they were the first to see the empty tomb and witness the resurrection. Compiling the gospels we learn that Salome and Joanna were also with Mary Magdalene and the other Mary. Matthew emphasizes only two women though. Why? The number two has a legal sound to the Jewish ear. The law required two or three witnesses to establish testimony, but women were not considered credible witnesses. If the apostles were making this stuff up, these are details they would never have fabricated. If this were a hoax, then the gospel writers would have men, strong credible men of repute, being the first witnesses. Man wouldn’t make something like this up, but God would ordain it so. God chooses the weak to shame the strong.

The power of the gospel is not in those who testify, but in the One testified of. You don’t have to be cool enough, intelligent enough, suave enough, convincing enough, or charismatic enough to share the gospel. You don’t have to be great to share the gospel because the gospel is great enough all on its own.

They Hate the Scriptures because They Hate the Author and Subject

By itself, therefore, it need not surprise us in the least that Scripture has at all times encountered contradiction and opposition. Christ bore a cross, and the servant [Scripture] is not greater than its master. Scripture is the handmaiden of Christ. It shares in his defamation and arouses the hostility of sinful humanity. —Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics

The Dogmatician: No One Rejects the Scriptures for Intellectual Reasons

Whether revelation is accepted or not is decided by our whole life-and-worldview. Decisive here is not historical criticism but self-criticism, not science but faith, not the head but the heart. Also obduracy comes out of the heart (cf. Mark 7:22). Our thinking is rooted in our being. ‘What you do follows from what you are’ (Operari sequitur esse—Schopenhauer). ‘Your choice of philosophy depends on the person you are. Our ideology is often only the history of our heart’ (Fichte). —Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics

Damnation Taken Lovingly (Matthew 27:45-61)

Suspended between heaven and earth, Jesus was forsaken by both, but it was only once the heaves turned black that He cried out in agony, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?”

What does it mean that Jesus was forsaken? Jesus clues us in when He uses language like “outer darkness,” and “weeping and gnashing of teeth.” To be forsaken means to be cast our from God’s covenant people, to be outside the camp, outside of God’s covenant love, to be thrust out with the Gentiles, to be in darkness. It is to be cursed by God. The Scotch minister, missionary, and professor John Duncan asked his students, “Ay, ay d’ ye know what it was dying on the cross, forsaken by His Father—d’ ye know what it was? What? What? What? It was damnation—and damnation taken lovingly.” What does it mean to be forsaken? To put it as bluntly and shockingly as I can conceive, for it is shocking, awesome, and wondrous—God damned God. “Yet it was the will of the LORD to crush him; he has put him to grief (Isaiah 53:10).” R.C. Sproul appropriately ponders, “I wonder whether Jesus was even aware of the nails and the thorns?” Speaking of what Jesus began to sense in the garden Tim Keller writes, “He was facing something beyond physical torment, even beyond physical death—something so much worse that these were like flea bites by comparison.”

Jesus always addressed God as Father, save this one instance. He shouted in agony, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” that we might shout with awestruck joy, “My Father, My Father, why have you accepted me?” The Son was forsaken that we might be adopted.

The Dogmatician: God’s Book that Cannot but Be Read

No one escapes the power of general revelation. Religion belongs to the essence of a human. The idea and existence of God, the spiritual independence and eternal destiny of the world, the moral world order and its ultimate triumph—all these are problems that never cease to engage the human mind. Metaphysical need cannot be suppressed. Philosophy perennially seeks to satisfy that need. It is general revelation that keeps that need alive. It keeps human beings from degrading themselves into animals. It binds them to a supersensible world. It maintains in them the awareness that they have been created in God’s image and can only find rest in God. General revelation preserves humankind in order that it can be found and healed by Christ and until it is. To that extent natural theology used to be correctly denominated a “preamble of faith,” a divine preparation and education for Christianity. General revelation is the foundation on which special revelation builds itself up. —Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics

The Giggle Silencing Guffaw (Matthew 27:27-44)

Irony is a hollow point bullet that also has deeper penetration. It is a longer blade and serrated too. “Your not a king,” will not stab near as deep or jagged as, “Hail, King of the Jews!” when spoken in mockery. Sarcasm shells pierce to the bone and make a mess getting there. But don’t miss Matthew’s irony for soldiers’, crowd’s and leaders’, that is, don’t miss his mockery of their mockery. The supreme irony is that their irony isn’t ironic. Instead of being laughed with, they are laughed at. The joke is on them.

Jesus really is the King (Matthew 27:29, 37, 42). Jesus is building the temple by destruction (Matthew 27:40; John 2:19-22). It is precisely because Jesus is the Son of God that He will not come down from the cross in obedience to His Father (Matthew 27:40). It is only by not saving Himself that He can save others (Matthew 27:42). It is only because Jesus is lifted up that any believe in Him (Matthew 27:43; John 12:32-33).

Don’t get in a zinger competition with God. God’s irony always wins. He has the bigger sense of humor. He always laughs loudest. God’s victorious righteous guffaw silences the sinful giggles of wicked men. Play no pretend sarcastic homage to God’s King. Kiss the Son, lest He be angry. Blessed are all who take refuge in Him.

Why do the nations rage
and the peoples plot in vain?
The kings of the earth set themselves,
and the rulers take counsel together,
against the Lord and against his Anointed, saying,
“Let us burst their bonds apart
and cast away their cords from us.”

He who sits in the heavens laughs;
the Lord holds them in derision.
Then he will speak to them in his wrath,
and terrify them in his fury, saying,
“As for me, I have set my King on Zion, my holy hill.”

I will tell of the decree:
The Lord said to me,
   “You are my Son;
   today I have begotten you.
   Ask of me, and I will make the nations your heritage,
   and the ends of the earth your possession.
   You shall break them with a rod of iron
   and dash them in pieces like a potter’s vessel.”

Now therefore, O kings, be wise;
be warned, O rulers of the earth.
Serve the Lord with fear,
and rejoice with trembling.
Kiss the Son,
lest he be angry, and you perish in the way,
for his wrath is quickly kindled.
Blessed are all who take refuge in him.

—Psalm 2 (ESV)