For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

        a time to be born, and a time to die;

                       a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;

        a time to kill, and a time to heal... (Ecclesiastes 3.1-3a)

This isn’t a question we like to consider openly, mostly because people’s opinions on the matter can be so strong.  This is natural, because questions of life and death are among the most important ones we face in this world.  In fact, we use the expression, “a matter of life and death” to stress that something is of utmost importance. But importance itself doesn’t constitute an answer!  It’s up to God to provide that.

That leaves us with the burden of examining his word to find out what are his standards.  For most of us, our first encounter with this question in the Bible came in Exodus 20.13, which the King James Version renders, “Thou shalt not kill.”  Seems pretty straightforward!  Lest we shrug off this commandment as only applicable to the Jews under the Mosaic covenant, in the New Testament both the Apostle Paul and Jesus himself uphold the same commandment, in Romans 13.9, Matthew 5.21, and Matthew 19.18.  If we consult other translations, especially modern ones, we’ll find that they generally say, “You shall not murder,” which raises the question: what’s the difference between killing and murdering, and why do newer translations encourage us to do the former, but not the latter?  Of course, we only react that way because we grew so accustomed to the King James wording, and we might pause and wonder why even the KJV renders the pertinent phrase in Matthew 19.18, “Thou shalt do no murder.”  Clearly something is amiss, and bears further examination.

While a quick look at the 6^th commandment might lead us to conclude it is always and forever unacceptable to take a human life, that interpretation is simply false—it rejects God’s commandments in the very same Law of Moses to kill killers.  For example, the very next chapter says, “Whoever strikes a man so that he dies shall be put to death” (Ex 21.12).  The instances of capital punishment prescribed in the Law are far too many to mention.  How can this be, unless our initial gut reaction—killing is always wrong—was missing something?  While we’re at it, we might as well ask, did the 6^th commandment permit the Jews to kill animals?  Once again, the Law explicitly requires that they do so, in too many examples of compulsory sacrifices to include here—it’s generally ok to kill animals, and often necessary to do so.

This serves to highlight, if we didn’t already know it, that context matters, and when God says, “Thou shalt not kill,” the basic principle is abundantly clear, but we still ought to ask what exactly he means.  It may surprise you to learn that the Hebrew language (as is also the case for Greek) has several words that can fall under the broader definition, “kill.”  Maybe we’d think they must have been a vicious, bloodthirsty society in order to need such an extensive, morbid vocabulary, but we have an even larger one in English!  There’s the catch-all: kill, but there’s also murder, execute, euthanize, assassinate, slaughter, exterminate, lynch, hit, massacre, and many more terms.  Each of these carries its own, subtle implications and connotations, even though many of them could be used interchangeably in some contexts.  When you encounter these words in different contexts, you immediately understand all the baggage that attends each one.  The same is true of the vocabulary in the Bible.  This is why the translators who rendered the Hebrew Old Testament into Greek, not long before Christ, could easily see that the commandment referred to criminal killing of a human being, and translated it accordingly: “you shall not murder.” The Greek term (φονεύω) explicitly means illegal and immoral killing, and they chose this word over less-precise synonyms.

So what does all of this mean?  If the world were ideal, there would be no killing—every person is made in the image and likeness of God (Ge 1.26), and holds a unique value to him, which he promises to honor: “for your lifeblood I will require a reckoning” (Ge 9.5).  But we brought sin into the world, and bear the consequences still.  We broke it.  We’re the reason people kill each other, and ought sometimes to be killed, themselves.  God’s covenant with Noah not only allowed, but mandated the death penalty: “Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed, for God made man in his own image” (Ge 9.6).  So, too, did the Law of Moses, which also permitted and mandated killing in war (e.g. De 20.10-18).  Finally, it permitted killing in the course of defending oneself or one’s home (Ex 22.2).  On top of these, God shows approval to Abraham for using lethal force to rescue Lot and others captured by Chedorlaomer’s army and destined for slavery (Ge 14), and in the New Testament we see approval for Moses’ killing of the Egyptian who was savagely beating another Hebrew (Ac 7.23-25).  The details, of course, are as finicky as they are important, but in broad terms, we could summarize these categories of moral and justified killings as follows: judicial punishment, warfare, and protecting innocent life and limb.  Each of these is “a time to kill.”

Should we go looking for opportunities to engage in violence?  Of course not.  Jesus told Peter on the night of his betrayal, “‘Put your sword back into its place. For all who take the sword will perish by the sword’” (Mt 26.52).  But note also that he told Peter earlier that very same night (Lk 22.36-38), “let the one who has no sword sell his cloak and buy one,” and allowed Peter to carry his sword with him to the garden.

Jeremy Nettles

You are severed from Christ, you who would be justified by the law; you have fallen away from grace. (Galatians 5.4)

Look around at any American town of significant size, and it’s quickly obvious that there are an enormous number of churches to choose from.  Why are there so many?  Is the problem that churches just keep overflowing their capacity to fit people?  No, the median church size is only about 75 people, and nearly all of them can fit more in the pews, and would love to do so.  So why don’t more churches merge, and increase their numbers that way?  Mostly because of doctrinal disagreements.  Many congregants are simply searching for what they like or enjoy, but in general the leaders have some degree of conviction about what is true, acceptable worship, God’s plan for salvation, and many other related things.  When these ideas don’t line up, the result is division.

We should all be seeking to worship as God commands.  The example of Nadab and Abihu is enough to drive that lesson home: “And fire came out from before the Lord and consumed them, and they died before the Lord” (Le 10.2).  What was their offense? They “offered unauthorized fire before the Lord, which he had not commanded them” (v1).  Additionally, as is evident from the passage above in Galatians, a major mistake in our understanding of the gospel can have catastrophic effects, up to and including being “severed from Christ” (Ga 5.4).  Clearly, then, we need to find churches that both preach and practice God’s word, not the ideas or commandments of men.  We need to find churches that are sound. 

That word isn’t used of churches in the Bible; in fact, it’s hardly used as as adjective at all!  But around the time the church had grown enough to face serious struggles with division on a large scale, suddenly it pops up nine times in Paul’s letters to Timothy and Titus, describing people’s faith, and more importantly the teachings they promote.  For example, he tells Timothy,

the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions, and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander off into myths. (2 Timothy 4.3-4)

Yet even though Paul had written numerous letters to numerous churches telling them they were wrong about numerous doctrines, behaviors, and attitudes, he never writes any churches off as having wandered entirely away from the faith, aside from the Galatians.  How can it be that churches who tolerated rampant sexual immorality, racial bigotry, selfish ambition, divisive behavior, loafing and mooching, rules not imposed by God, and more—how can they be considered sound?  These churches, for all their problems, are still treated as if they’re basically on the right path, or just in need of a slight redirection to bring things back into line.  But the reason isn’t that all their flaws were acceptable; it’s that they didn’t fully know better, yet.  When the Apostle clears up any doubt, they have a responsibility to shape up.  What would have been the result, if they’d refused?  Jesus later told one of them, the church at Ephesus, “I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place, unless you repent” (Re 2.5).  The lampstand represented the church itself in the preceding verses, so it’s clear Jesus means that at present it’s a legitimate church, but if they do not repent they will cease to be his body—no longer recognized before God.

Today, there are no living apostles to tell us new revelations from God or make binding decisions about the church and its work.  Instead, we all are responsible to the words already revealed by Jesus and his apostles in the New Testament.  No congregation will be entirely free of problems until we’re all joined in one body to our head, Jesus, at his return to this earth.  But a sound congregation is one that continuously learns God’s will, revealed to us in his Word, and obeys even if it means making drastic changes to preferred beliefs, doctrines, and practices.

Most of the churches you see around any town don’t look much like the church of the first century.  They’re filled from end to end with man-made doctrines and practices that seemed like good ideas when they began, but are much like the “unauthorized fire” that Nadab and Abihu used in their worship, which offended God not because it was so obviously contradictory to his prohibitions, but because “he had not commanded them” to worship in that way.  What can you do, if you discover upon comparison with the pattern in the New Testament, that your church is violating God’s instructions, or adding its own atop them?  The answer isn’t always as simple as we’d like, but the first step should be to inform them!  Perhaps it is a sound church, and will correct its course to fall in line with God’s will, not man’s.  If not, then you must ask yourself: will I hitch myself to group whose lampstand Jesus has removed from it’s place?  This isn’t an excuse to church-hop or church-shop, or to build your own church that consists of you and your immediate family.  Occasionally, the best you can do is worship with a group that does some things you can’t do in good conscience, but discuss the issue openly and clearly abstain from those things. Other times, the best you can do is move on and look for the New Testament church elsewhere.  Examine your own conscience and motivations, and give yourself first to the Lord; and then to his church.

Jeremy Nettles

Tell me, you who desire to be under the law, do you not listen to the law? For it is written that Abraham had two sons, one by a slave woman and one by a free woman. But the son of the slave was born according to the flesh, while the son of the free woman was born through promise. Now this may be interpreted allegorically: these women are two covenants. One is from Mount Sinai, bearing children for slavery; she is Hagar. Now Hagar is Mount Sinai in Arabia; she corresponds to the present Jerusalem, for she is in slavery with her children. But the Jerusalem above is free, and she is our mother. (Galatians 4.21-26)

The point Paul makes in these few verses is truly astonishing.  In this letter, his goal is to get these fairly new, Gentile Christians to see the mistake they’re making in allowing misguided Jewish Christians to bind the law of Moses on them.  This centered around circumcision, the symbol of belonging to the nation of Abraham’s descendants.  Previously in the letter, Paul had stressed that Christians are, indeed, to be children of Abraham, but the marker was not circumcision: “Know then that it is those of faith who are the sons of Abraham” (3.7); “And if you are Christ’s, then you are Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to promise” (3.29).  Now in chapter 4, he compares the Christian’s heritage to the Jew’s.  From reading the Scriptures, these Gentile converts are aware of Abraham’s two sons and the nations descended from each.  They know, as we do, that the Jews were descended from Isaac, and the descendants of Ishmael—like the Nabateans and Qedarites to Israel’s East and South—were generally enemies of God’s chosen people.

Why then does Paul match up the Jews with Hagar, the mother of Gentiles, and the Gentiles with Sarah, the mother of the Jews?  Well, that’s not quite what he’s doing.  It isn’t that all of the Gentiles are to be identified as Sarah’s descendants, but those who have “put on Christ” (3.27).  Nor is it that all of the Jews are Hagar’s descendants—Paul includes himself among Sarah’s children when he says “she is our mother” (4.26).  Those Jews who are descended from Hagar are those who have rejected the Messiah—the blessing promised to Abraham.

But of course, we know that’s just not true—from the physical perspective.  Paul is way ahead of us: “But the son of the slave was born according to the flesh, while the son of the free woman was born through promise” (4.23).  When Sarah suggested using Hagar as a concubine to solve the problem of Abraham’s lack of an heir, everyone involved considered that a son born through Hagar would be a legitimate and rightful heir.  Even when God clarified to Abraham a point that should have required no clarification, saying of Sarah, “‘I will give you a son by her’” (Ge 17.16), Abraham himself replied two verses later, “‘Oh that Ishmael might live before you!’”  Ishmael, according to the laws and practices of the time and place, was the rightful heir—the firstborn, legitimate son.  Yet God reminds him again later, “through Isaac shall your offspring be named” (Ge 21.12).

Isaac was not born purely according to the flesh, but according to God’s promise, in which Abraham and Sarah trusted, though their faith lapsed at times.  But two thousand years after the firstfruits of the promise were enjoyed in Isaac, the promise still extended to God’s chosen people, and it wasn’t the nation descended from Isaac purely according to the flesh.  The same promise that foretold Isaac’s birth also said, “‘In you shall all the nations be blessed.’ So then, those who are of faith are blessed along with Abraham, the man of faith” (Ga 3.8), even the Gentiles who were not legitimate descendants of Abraham in any fleshly sense.

Paul further ties these two classes of people—the fleshly and spiritual descendants of Abraham—to the two covenants, which were inaugurated on two mountains.  The Jewish covenant began at Mount Sinai in the desert, while the covenant of Christ began at Jerusalem, on Mount Zion.  Here, as before with the two sons, there’s some confusion.  Isaac is both the son of promise, and the forefather of the fleshly children of Abraham; in the same way, Zion is both the physical location where Jesus died, was buried, and arose, and also the spiritual seat of the Kingdom of God.  Paul differentiates between these two by calling them “the present Jerusalem” and “the Jerusalem above.”  This covenant is vastly superior to the previous one.  This kingdom will never fall.  It is the fulfillment of Nebuchadnezzar’s dream in Daniel 2, the stone that destroyed the kingdoms and “became a great mountain and filled the whole earth” (Da 2.35). 

Just as that mountain is more than the physical Mount Zion, the church is about more than a physical heritage, and far more than a physical location.  It’s about God’s far-reaching promises, which are beyond our full comprehension or reasoning.  Even Abraham, the “man of faith,” didn’t grasp the full import of the promises God made to him.  They were primarily spiritual, and had to do not only with blessings and behaviors here on earth, but with the far more important world to come.  God frees Abraham’s children from slavery—to sin, to the law, to the flesh, and to death—and gives abundant life, his Spirit, freedom, and righteousness in their place. 

Paul finishes up this passage by saying,

Now you, brothers, like Isaac, are children of promise. But just as at that time he who was born according to the flesh persecuted him who was born according to the Spirit, so also it is now. (Galatians 4.28-29).

Are you a child of the flesh, or of the Spirit?

Jeremy Nettles

As our current memory verse reminds us, Joseph was given a colorful robe by his father, and it was a source of resentment from his ten older brothers.  They surely knew already that Joseph was the favorite, but the robe served as a visible sign and constant reminder of their second-class status in the family.  It must have seemed to them that Joseph was deliberately taunting them by wearing this garment in their presence.  It didn’t help, clearly, that Joseph was a stickler for rule keeping, and related his brothers’ misdeeds to their father (Ge 37.2).  That they resented the robe in particular is made clear by their actions upon deciding to throw him in the pit out in the wilderness: “when Joseph came to his brothers, they stripped him of his robe, the robe of many colors that he wore” (Ge 37.23).  The first order of business, even before they tossed him in the pit, was to take that cursed robe from him!  Its loss marks a major shift in Joseph’s status.  Once the favored son of a wealthy and important man, he had become a nobody—a slave no different from all the rest.  What became of the robe?  It was soiled and presented to Jacob as evidence that Joseph could no longer be the favorite son.

Upon being put to work in his new home in Egypt, Joseph quickly rose to the favored place among the servants of Potiphar, and once again a member of the household stepped in to ruin things.  Potiphar’s wife demanded that Joseph commit an exceedingly immoral act with her, and resented his refusal.  Eventually she resorted to some degree of force in an attempt to overcome his chastity—“she caught him by his garment, saying, ‘Lie with me.’ But he left his garment in her hand and fled and got out of the house” (Ge 39.12).  Once again, he had been disrobed.  And what soon followed?  The garment, apparently distinctive enough to be easily identified as Joseph’s, was used as evidence that Joseph could no longer be the favored servant.  He ended up right back “in the pit” (Ge 40.15). 

In neither of these cases did Joseph do anything wrong.  We could nitpick and “could’a-would’a-should’a” the situation all we want, but the simple fact is that Joseph was in the right, refused to go along with sin in each case, and was punished by those responsible, who didn’t mind adding another, more flagrant sin to their records.

In the prison, Joseph rose once more to a position of favor, finding himself “in charge of all the prisoners who were in the prison” (Ge 39.22).  In the course of time, his ability to accurately interpret prophetic dreams set him up for yet another major change in the course of his life.  After predicting the major events in Egypt for the next 14 years and suggesting a meticulous plan for coping with the problem, he was elevated to second-in-command of the kingdom.  But what happened to his clothes, this time? 

Then Pharaoh took his signet ring from his hand and put it on Joseph's hand, and clothed him in garments of fine linen and put a gold chain about his neck. And he made him ride in his second chariot. And they called out before him, “Bow the knee!” Thus he set him over all the land of Egypt. (Genesis 41.42-43)

The king didn’t care about the false accusations against him; he didn’t care about his humble status as a foreigner, a slave, or a supposed criminal.  He recognized Joseph for who he was, exalted him greatly, and in contrast to the previous two experiences, gave Joseph a fine robe to wear.  Instead of being humiliated and shamed, this time Joseph met with approval and glory.

This may seem like just a nice story of triumph over adversity, but as with so much else in the Old Testament, it is intended to foreshadow God’s plans for us.  Joseph is a suffering servant, much like Christ, and he ends up saving his brothers, even though they did so much evil to him, and welcoming them into his own home, much like God has done for us.  But in addition to these, Joseph serves as a pattern for us, too.  We all encounter some degree of suffering and shame from other people in this world.  Those who are powerful tend to enjoy preying on those who are weaker, and there’s always someone more powerful than we are.  In the first place, the story demonstrates that if we handle our own humiliation properly—by following God’s instructions, that is—eventually we will receive a great reward, and be exalted, even in the sight of the very same people who cast us down, before.  More importantly though, as Joseph’s garments were soiled, stripped off, and used as evidence against him, we have all experienced the same thing before God, through sin.  But what does God promise?

They cried out with a loud voice, “O Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long before you will judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?” Then they were each given a white robe and told to rest a little longer, until the number of their fellow servants and their brothers should be complete, who were to be killed as they themselves had been. (Revelation 6.10-11)

This describes the souls of the martyrs, whose blood was poured out beneath the spiritual altar.  The battle isn’t over yet, and God has much to accomplish before the final rewards are given.  But because these souls accepted shame and humiliation even to the point of death for the sake of Jesus—because they were faithful—God gave each one a new robe, much like Joseph was given after suffering so much.  This one is white.  Why?  “They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.” (Re 7.14).  What are you wearing?

Jeremy Nettles

When the Israelites were preparing to cross the Jordan and enter the promised land, they had finally learned through 40 years of wandering in the wilderness to rely on God.  He’d given them their daily food, he’d provided water for them, he’d protected them from enemies all around, and he had led them night and day through foreign lands.  After crossing the river, they would rely on God to fight their battles.  It’s a good thing, too—40 years prior, God was all set to give them the land, but they still relied on their own strength; when they saw the sheer size of many of the people they’d be fighting, they concluded, “‘We are not able to go up against the people, for they are stronger than we are’” (Nu 13.31).  Their wandering was a punishment specifically for this lack of faith, and that generation all died off in the wilderness.  But their children learned the lesson, and when their turn came to receive the blessings, their tune was a bit different: “Truly the Lord has given all the land into our hands” (Jos 2.24).

In this case, the older, faithless generation gave way to a new generation of the faithful, and the results were spectacular.  But of course, God doesn’t lay his plans only with a view toward the present time; he’s always planning for the future—for the next generation and beyond.  If the current, faithful generation then gave way to a generation that did not know God, would he continue to provide blessings for them?  Would he feed them, protect them, and fight their battles?  No; and God told them as much, on several occasions.

How could they avoid this problem?  How could they prevent the promised land from being taken away just as easily as it was given to them?  God had a plan for that:

You shall therefore lay up these words of mine in your heart and in your soul, and you shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. You shall teach them to your children, talking of them when you are sitting in your house, and when you are walking by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise. You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates, that your days and the days of your children may be multiplied in the land that the Lord swore to your fathers to give them, as long as the heavens are above the earth. (Deuteronomy 11.18-21)

The promise is clear: “that your days and the days of your children may be multiplied in the land that the Lord swore to your fathers to give them.”  It also implies a warning—their lives will be short, and they won’t retain their homeland, if they refuse to devote themselves to God’s commandments.  This reminds us that we’ve left out something pretty important from our list of the ways God provided for the Israelites, both in the wilderness and subsequently in their newly-won home.  It was easy to think of the food, water, guidance, and protection.  What more could anyone want, than those?  Well, there’s more to this life than having our flesh satisfied and preserved.  What about our hearts and souls?  It’s far worse for those to be sick, lost, or hungry, than for our bodies to experience the same problems.  Left to our own devices, we would all try to satisfy our thirst for water; but we’re not as likely to make a big deal of quenching the thirst for righteousness unless someone else brings it up.  But God isn’t just worried about our bodies; in fact, he considers our souls to be far more valuable.

How did he provide for the souls of the Israelites?  He gave them a Law, of course.  A portion of it was spoken from heaven directly to the people.  It also appeared on tablets of stone.  The rest came through his prophet, Moses, who wrote the law for the people so they could read it for themselves, even after he was dead and gone.  But that introduces another problem: just as Moses eventually died, so would each of the Israelites.  What would become of those who replaced them?  Would they remember the lessons God taught their parents?  Only if someone taught them in turn—hence his instruction: “you shall teach them to your children.”

In the same way, we should never take for granted that the next generation will simply fall in line and make consistently good decisions.  Just as we work to prepare them for the need to find jobs and work for a living, we must teach them the spiritual lessons God has taught us—our own failures along the way included.  Pleasing God and cultivating their souls’ health is far more important than equipping them for a successful career, and yet how much time do we devote to each goal?  Kids go to school for many hours, five days a week; we encourage most of them not just to go to college, but to shop for the best college possible, to pick a marketable field of study, and pay (or borrow) a year’s salary or more, in hopes they will recoup all of that investment and build atop it.  How much time, effort, worry, stress, and money do we put toward their spiritual education?

It may seem like there’s no way to correct this imbalance; but there is.  We can teach God’s love and commandments to our kids in the same way he instructed the Israelites: speak of them when we sit at home, when we drive in our cars, when we put them to bed, and when we wake them each morning.  Read them often.  Write them in prominent locations to remind them what God expects.  The next generation may face financial struggle, civil strife, famine, disease, and natural disaster.  There’s nothing we can do to ensure they live through it all.  But we will have done our job, if they learn from us to know God and be known by him; to love God and to be loved by him, forever.

Jeremy Nettles