A Biblical Theology of Presence

Pentecost, Divine Dwelling, and the Covenant Life of God’s People

Today, the Church celebrates Pentecost.

For many Christians, Pentecost is often reduced to discussions surrounding spiritual gifts, tongues, empowerment, or the birth of the church. While each of these themes carries genuine theological significance, Pentecost ultimately represents something far deeper in the biblical imagination: the fulfillment of God’s long desire to dwell among His people. The rushing wind of Acts 2, the tongues of fire, and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit are not isolated phenomena disconnected from Israel’s story. Rather, Pentecost stands as the culmination of a divine movement that begins in Eden itself, revealing a God who has always sought covenantal nearness with humanity.¹

The story of Scripture is, in many ways, a story of presence. From the opening pages of Genesis to the closing vision of Revelation, the biblical narrative consistently portrays God not merely as sovereign ruler over creation, but as One who desires to dwell among His people. Unlike the distant deities of surrounding Ancient Near Eastern cultures, whose favor was often mediated through inaccessible sanctuaries or royal elites, Yahweh repeatedly moves toward His covenant people.²

He walks in gardens, descends upon mountains, fills tents and temples with glory, journeys with wandering tribes, clothes Himself in flesh, and ultimately pours His Spirit upon ordinary men and women gathered together in one place.

Pentecost, therefore, should not first be viewed merely as empowerment for ministry. Pentecost is the restoration of divine dwelling.

Yet throughout Scripture, divine presence never terminates on the individual. God dwells among a people. Presence in the biblical imagination is covenantal, communal, and relational. The God who repeatedly chooses to draw near simultaneously calls His people into faithful nearness with Him and with one another. In a modern age increasingly shaped by mobility, distraction, autonomy, and loosely connected spirituality, Scripture quietly presses an uncomfortable question upon us: What kind of life is formed when God dwells among His people?³

To answer that question rightly, one must begin not in Acts, but in Eden.

The biblical story begins not with distance, but proximity. Humanity is not created merely to obey God from afar, but to dwell with Him in sacred space. Genesis presents Eden not simply as an idyllic garden, but as the first sanctuary, a place where heaven and earth overlap and where divine presence is experienced without obstruction. Increasingly, Old Testament scholarship has recognized the temple-like features embedded within the garden narrative. Eden contains priestly vocation, sacred geography, eastward entrances, precious stones, rivers flowing outward, and cherubim guardianship—imagery that later reappears in Israel’s tabernacle and temple traditions.⁴

John Walton argues persuasively that Genesis presents Eden less as primitive geography and more as sacred cosmic space where divine order and divine presence uniquely reside.⁵ Likewise, Gordon Wenham notes significant literary parallels between Eden and Israel’s sanctuary structures, suggesting that humanity’s original vocation was priestly participation within sacred space.⁶ Humanity, in other words, was created for relational nearness with God.

Genesis 3:8 offers one of Scripture’s most striking portraits of divine intimacy:

“And they heard the sound of the LORD God walking in the garden in the cool of the day.”

The Hebrew verb translated “walking” is הָלַךְ (halak), a term frequently conveying movement, accompaniment, and relational nearness.⁷ God is not portrayed as distant or inaccessible. He walks among humanity.

This image becomes even more striking when read against its Ancient Near Eastern backdrop. In surrounding cultures, gods were often perceived as territorial, distant, or accessible only through elite mediation. Sacred presence remained largely confined to temples and priestly systems. Israel’s story begins differently. Yahweh walks among His image-bearers. The biblical God is relationally near.⁸ Humanity’s original calling likewise reflects priestly overtones. Genesis 2:15 describes Adam’s responsibility to “work” and “keep” the garden using the Hebrew terms עָבַד (abad) and שָׁמַר (shamar), language later used to describe priestly service within the tabernacle.⁹ Eden functions not merely as habitat, but sanctuary. Humanity’s purpose is covenant participation in the presence of God. The tragedy of Genesis 3, then, is not simply moral failure. It is rupture of presence. Humanity is driven eastward into exile, removed from sacred space and estranged from unhindered communion with God.¹⁰ Much of Scripture thereafter unfolds as the story of God restoring what was lost in Eden: a people dwelling faithfully in divine presence.

The Old Testament understanding of presence extends beyond abstract theological categories into deeply relational language. Perhaps no Hebrew term better captures this than פָּנִים (panim), most commonly translated “face,” yet frequently carrying the broader meaning of presence itself.¹¹ In modern thought, presence often implies simple proximity. One may occupy the same room while remaining emotionally or relationally absent. Hebrew thought presses further.

To stand “before the face” of another signifies attentiveness, relational encounter, covenant nearness, and shared communion.

This reality explains the repeated biblical emphasis on seeking God’s face: “You have said, ‘Seek my face.’ My heart says to you, ‘Your face, LORD, do I seek’” (Ps 27:8). The psalmist does not long for visual access to divine features. He longs for nearness. Seeking God’s face means seeking communion with God Himself.¹² Walter Brueggemann rightly observes that Israel’s faith consistently resisted detached religiosity and instead emphasized covenant relationship with the living God.¹³

Likewise, the priestly blessing frames divine favor in terms of presence: “The LORD make his face shine upon you” (Num 6:25). Blessing is relational before it is material. God’s shining face signifies divine attentiveness, covenant favor, and sustained nearness.¹⁴ Conversely, when Scripture speaks of God hiding His face, the imagery signals rupture, grief, judgment, or covenant distance.¹⁵

No figure illustrates this dynamic more profoundly than Moses. Following Israel’s rebellion with the golden calf, God declares that He will no longer go among the people lest His holiness consume them. Moses responds with one of the most theologically significant prayers in the Old Testament: “If your presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here” (Exod 33:15).

The Hebrew term translated “presence” literally reads פָּנֶיךָ (panecha)—“your face.”¹⁶ Moses understands something essential: Israel’s identity is not secured by military strength, geography, gifted leadership, or national success.

The distinguishing feature of God’s people is divine presence.

If Eden reveals humanity’s original experience of divine nearness, the tabernacle represents God’s redemptive movement toward restoring what sin fractured. Following Israel’s liberation from Egypt, God does not merely establish law or provide direction for national identity. Instead, one of His earliest commands concerns sacred space: “And let them make me a sanctuary, that I may dwell among them” (Exod 25:8). The Hebrew verb translated “dwell” is שָׁכַן (shakan), a word carrying the sense of settling down, residing, or tabernacling among a people.¹⁷ The theological implications of this term are difficult to overstate. God’s intention is not simply to oversee Israel from a distance, but to reside in their midst. Unlike neighboring deities whose presence remained fixed within inaccessible sanctuaries or royal temples, Yahweh chooses proximity. The God of Israel desires to dwell among His people.

The grammar of Exodus 25:8 deserves careful attention. God does not first say, “Build me a sanctuary so that you may worship me there.” Rather, He says, “that I may dwell among them.” Divine initiative precedes human response. Covenant begins with God moving toward humanity. Presence is not earned through religious performance; it is given through grace.¹⁸ In some regard building sanctuaries may be the opposite of what God was intimately desiring – That is what ANE culture did for “the other gods.” Could building “MAGNIFICENT” sanctuaries have been offense to the LORD? Perhaps, but let’s consider what a simple tabernacle meant.

The tabernacle itself becomes a visible sign of restored Edenic communion. Increasingly, scholars have recognized significant literary and symbolic parallels between Eden and Israel’s sanctuary traditions. Gordon Wenham famously argued that the tabernacle functions as a kind of renewed Eden, sacred overlap between heaven and earth where God’s presence once again resides among humanity.¹⁹ Like Eden, access moves eastward. Cherubim guard sacred space. Gold and precious stones adorn the sanctuary. Priestly service echoes humanity’s original vocation to cultivate and guard holy ground.²⁰ But we also need to keep in mind that God created Eden as a sanctuary – it was not man made.

John Walton similarly notes that sacred space in the Old Testament functions not primarily as religious architecture but as the localized manifestation of divine presence.²¹ The tabernacle was never fundamentally about ritual performance or man’s ability to build. It was about nearness. This reality becomes unmistakable in Exodus 40: “Then the cloud covered the tent of meeting, and the glory of the LORD filled the tabernacle” (Exod 40:34). The imagery echoes Sinai while simultaneously moving beyond it. The God who descended upon the mountain now resides among His people in the wilderness. Israel carries not merely commandments but divine presence.

Later Jewish theology would describe this manifest indwelling through the concept of Shekinah, a term derived from the root shakan. Though the noun itself does not explicitly appear in Scripture, rabbinic tradition employed it to describe the dwelling glory of God among His covenant people.²² What matters biblically is not terminology but theological reality: covenant life in Israel was fundamentally shaped by God’s nearness.

This is why wilderness narratives repeatedly emphasize God’s movement with Israel: “By day the LORD went ahead of them in a pillar of cloud… and by night in a pillar of fire” (Exod 13:21). God journeys with His people. Presence accompanies wandering, uncertainty, fear, formation, and dependence. Israel learns that covenant life is not sustained through self-sufficiency but through continual nearness to God. Divine presence becomes the defining characteristic of covenant identity.

Leviticus deepens this theological vision: “I will walk among you and will be your God, and you shall be my people” (Lev 26:12). The language intentionally echoes Eden. Once again, God “walks among” humanity. Redemption is portrayed not merely as forgiveness of sins or moral improvement, but restoration of fellowship.²³ The goal of covenant is communion. Yet Israel repeatedly struggled with what might be described as religious proximity without relational presence. The people often maintained sacrifice while abandoning covenant faithfulness.

Worship continued while hearts drifted. Ritual persisted while devotion weakened. The prophets relentlessly expose this fracture.

Isaiah famously rebukes Israel: “These people draw near with their mouth and honor me with their lips, while their hearts are far from me” (Isa 29:13). The problem was not external participation alone. Israel remained physically present within worship structures while relationally absent from God Himself. Scripture repeatedly refuses to separate covenant participation from genuine relational devotion.²⁴ Presence in the biblical imagination is never reduced to mere proximity. This tension reaches its most devastating moment in Ezekiel’s vision of divine departure. In Ezekiel 10–11, the prophet witnesses the gradual withdrawal of God’s glory from the temple. The imagery is profoundly tragic. The God who desired to dwell among His people slowly departs because covenant rebellion has made sacred space inhospitable to communion.²⁵

For Israel, exile represented far more than political defeat. It was the grief of absence. Temple destruction symbolized disrupted nearness, covenant fracture, and longing for restored communion. Much of Israel’s lament literature emerges from this ache: “My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and appear before God?” (Ps 42:2). Yet even amid judgment, the prophets refuse despair. Again and again, restoration is framed through the language of renewed presence.

Ezekiel proclaims: “My dwelling place shall be with them, and I will be their God, and they shall be my people” (Ezek 37:27). Once more, the language of dwelling dominates redemption. God’s answer to exile is not merely moral correction or national restoration. It is renewed presence.²⁶ Joel likewise anticipates a day when God will pour out His Spirit upon all flesh (Joel 2:28–29), signaling something extraordinary: divine nearness will no longer remain concentrated within temple structures, prophets, priests, or kings. The presence of God will expand outward into the gathered people themselves.²⁷ By the close of the Old Testament, this longing remains unresolved. Israel possesses worship, memory, and covenant expectation, yet the fullness of divine dwelling still feels incomplete. The question lingers quietly over the biblical narrative:

How will God once again fully dwell among His people?

The answer arrives not first in wind or fire, but in flesh.

The New Testament opens with language saturated in Old Testament expectation. Matthew introduces Jesus as Emmanuel, “God with us” (Matt 1:23), immediately signaling that the story unfolding in Christ cannot be separated from Israel’s centuries-long longing for restored presence. Yet it is John’s Gospel that develops the theological implications most fully.

John writes: “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory…” (John 1:14). The Greek verb translated “dwelt” is ἐσκήνωσεν (eskēnōsen), literally meaning “to tabernacle” or “pitch a tent.”²⁸ John intentionally evokes Exodus imagery. Just as Yahweh once dwelled among Israel through tabernacle presence, God has now chosen to dwell among humanity in the person of Jesus Christ. This wording is profoundly deliberate. John could have chosen a more generic term for residence. Instead, he employs language saturated with covenant memory. Jesus becomes the fulfillment of tabernacle theology itself. Sacred space is no longer confined to architecture. Divine presence now resides within a person.²⁹

Even the reference to glory deepens the connection. When John writes, “we have seen his glory,” readers familiar with Israel’s Scriptures would immediately recall the cloud of divine glory filling tabernacle and temple (Exod 40:34–35; 1 Kings 8:10–11). Jesus is presented not merely as a messenger from God but as the embodied return of divine presence among humanity.³⁰

By the time the reader arrives at Acts 2, the biblical story has already established a profound theological expectation. God walked with humanity in Eden, dwelled among Israel through tabernacle and temple, departed amid covenant rebellion, and returned in the person of Christ. Yet Jesus Himself repeatedly spoke of a coming reality that would intensify divine nearness even further. During the Farewell Discourse, He comforts His disciples with language rooted in covenant continuity: “And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Helper, to be with you forever… He dwells with you and will be in you” (John 14:16–17).

The language marks a dramatic theological shift. Under the old covenant, divine presence often rested selectively upon prophets, kings, judges, priests, sanctuary, or temple. Soon, Jesus says, the Spirit will not merely remain beside God’s people but within them. The trajectory of Scripture presses steadily closer. God moves from walking beside humanity in Eden, to dwelling among Israel in sacred space, to tabernacling in flesh through Christ, and now toward inhabiting the gathered people of God themselves.³¹

Luke’s account of Pentecost deliberately presents Acts 2 not as an isolated spiritual event but as the culmination of centuries of covenant longing. The narrative opens with a detail often overlooked: “When the day of Pentecost arrived, they were all together in one place” (Acts 2:1).

The gatheredness matters.

Throughout Scripture, divine presence repeatedly manifests within assembled covenant contexts. Israel gathered at Sinai. The tabernacle stood in the midst of the camp. Temple worship centered around communal rhythms of sacrifice, prayer, pilgrimage, and feasting. God forms a people before He commissions a mission. Presence in Scripture consistently possesses a communal dimension.³²

Luke then describes: “Suddenly there came from heaven a sound like a mighty rushing wind…” (Acts 2:2).

The imagery immediately evokes Old Testament categories. The Hebrew word רוּחַ (ruach) simultaneously means spirit, breath, and wind. The biblical imagination consistently associates divine breath with life, renewal, and creative activity. The Spirit of God hovers over creation in Genesis 1:2. Divine breath restores dry bones in Ezekiel 37. Wind and Spirit become theological symbols of God moving toward chaos to bring life.³³ Pentecost therefore signals not simply empowerment but new creation.

The imagery of fire deepens the Old Testament resonance: “Divided tongues as of fire appeared to them and rested on each one of them” (Acts 2:3). Fire throughout Scripture regularly signifies divine presence. Yahweh appears to Moses in the burning bush (Exod 3). Sinai trembles beneath divine fire (Exod 19:18). God’s glory fills tabernacle and temple through visible manifestation (Exod 40:34–38; 2 Chron 7:1–3). Jewish readers would not have perceived Pentecost as disconnected supernatural spectacle. They would have recognized familiar covenant imagery. The God who once descended upon mountain and sanctuary now descends upon ordinary men and women gathered together in one place.³⁴

Perhaps the most remarkable feature of Pentecost lies in the democratization of divine presence. In the Old Testament, the Spirit often rested upon select individuals for specific purposes. Kings received empowerment for leadership. Prophets proclaimed divine words. Priests mediated sacred worship. Yet Joel had anticipated a future day when God would radically expand covenant participation: “I will pour out my Spirit on all flesh” (Joel 2:28).

Peter explicitly identifies Pentecost as the fulfillment of this prophetic hope (Acts 2:16–18). Divine nearness is no longer restricted by sacred geography, priestly mediation, or social status. Sons and daughters, young and old, servants and free alike become participants in divine indwelling.³⁵ The presence of God has moved outward. This theological movement carries enormous implications for the church. Under the old covenant, God dwelled among His people through sacred structures. At Pentecost, God begins dwelling within His people collectively. Paul later makes this explicit: “Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you?” (1 Cor 3:16).

Importantly, Paul’s pronouns are plural. The emphasis is communal rather than merely individual. The gathered church becomes sacred space. The people themselves become the dwelling place of God.³⁶ Again, God doesn’t seem to be looking for people to build any sort of elaborate buildings, He is merely seeking presence. To build a building could actually be contrary to what God is asking. It once again would seem to be people doing what people want to do in their own eyes rather than faithfully following exactly what the Lord is asking of them.

The Greek term Paul employs for temple, ναός (naos), refers not simply to outer temple courts but to the inner sanctuary where divine presence uniquely dwelled. The implications are staggering. Under the old covenant, the naos represented sacred space inaccessible to most people. Through the Spirit, gathered believers now collectively become the place where heaven and earth overlap.³⁷ Acts itself immediately demonstrates that divine indwelling generates embodied devotion. Following Pentecost, Luke writes: “And they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers” (Acts 2:42).

The verb translated “devoted” is προσκαρτερέω (proskartereō), conveying steadfastness, constancy, and persistent participation.³⁸ The early church did not imagine covenant life as occasional attendance or loosely connected spirituality. Shared rhythms of worship, teaching, meals, generosity, and prayer formed the ordinary fabric of Christian existence. This should not surprise us. Throughout Scripture, divine presence consistently creates relational presence. God’s nearness never produces detached spirituality or isolated faith. Rather, covenant life becomes increasingly embodied, mutual, and communal. Presence generates participation. And again, (take note) no building is seen in the recipe.

Jesus Himself anticipated this dynamic through the language of abiding. In John 15, Christ repeatedly uses the Greek term μένω (menō), meaning to remain, continue, or abide: “Abide in me, and I in you” (John 15:4). Abiding language carries covenantal permanence. Relationship with God is not envisioned as sporadic encounter or momentary enthusiasm but sustained relational nearness. Significantly, Jesus employs vine imagery that is profoundly communal. Branches remain connected not only to the vine but to one another through shared participation in divine life. Fruitfulness emerges through constancy.³⁹

Likewise, Paul’s body imagery resists fragmented spirituality: “For just as the body is one and has many members… so it is with Christ” (1 Cor 12:12). Believers are not portrayed as autonomous spiritual consumers orbiting around religious experiences in a building. They become members of one another. Gifts exist for mutual edification. Weakness is shared. Joy is shared. Suffering is shared. Presence matters because covenant formation occurs in proximity.⁴⁰

The writer of Hebrews reinforces this reality: “And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together…” (Heb 10:24–25). The concern is not institutional attendance for attendance’s sake. The writer understands something far deeper:

perseverance requires presence. Encouragement requires nearness. Spiritual formation happens within rhythms of gathered devotion. Covenant life cannot flourish from a distance.⁴¹

Modern Christianity frequently places overwhelming emphasis upon personal spirituality in buildings, often reducing faith to private devotion, theological agreement, or individualized worship experiences or a need to independently “SERVE.”. Yet the biblical witness consistently pushes against isolated spirituality. God does not merely redeem individuals. He forms a people.

From Eden onward, covenant life has always been communal. Israel gathered for feasts, worship, prayer, sacrifice, lament, and celebration. The early church gathered around tables in homes and rented spaces (often gathering in the wilderness areas), prayers, shared resources, teaching, and mutual encouragement. Scripture consistently assumes that formation occurs through repeated rhythms of embodied presence.⁴² Paul’s repeated use of familial language is telling. Believers are not merely attendees or acquaintances sharing theological interests. They are described as: “members of the household of God” (Eph 2:19). (but the household here is eternal not physical.)

Households are built through constancy. Trust deepens through repeated presence. Burdens are carried through proximity. Formation occurs not merely through extraordinary moments but through ordinary rhythms of shared life.⁴³

This helps explain why the New Testament repeatedly commands practices impossible to sustain from a distance: bearing one another’s burdens (Gal 6:2), confessing sins to one another (James 5:16), encouraging one another daily (Heb 3:13), devoting oneself to fellowship (Acts 2:42), stirring one another toward love and good works (Heb 10:24). Such commands presume nearness. Covenant life assumes a deep sense of presence.

The biblical story consistently moves toward this reality. God walks with humanity in Eden, dwells among Israel, tabernacles in Christ, and fills His people through the Spirit. Divine presence moves ever closer, ever deeper, ever more relational. The question Scripture quietly leaves before us is not simply whether God is present to His people. The more searching question is whether God’s people are learning to be truly present—to Him, and to one another.

Before bringing this to a close, there is one final observation worth considering because it quietly reshapes how we think about church, gathering, and what it actually means to dwell with God. If the biblical story truly moves from Eden, to tabernacle, to temple, to Christ, and ultimately to Spirit-indwelt people, then one of the clearest theological movements in Scripture is this: sacred space gradually shifts from buildings to people.

This is not to suggest that buildings are bad, unnecessary, or somehow opposed to ministry. Spaces can serve beautiful purposes. They can create places for worship, hospitality, teaching, discipleship, prayer, and community. Yet when we turn to the New Testament, it is striking how little emphasis is placed upon buildings themselves. Jesus spends remarkably little time discussing sacred architecture, and the apostles devote virtually no energy to constructing elaborate worship environments or institutional structures. Instead, the overwhelming focus becomes people, devotion, fellowship, prayer, generosity, and shared life together in the Spirit.

Even within the Old Testament, there are hints of tension surrounding sacred buildings. While Solomon’s temple stood as a magnificent expression of worship and national identity, Scripture quietly warns against confusing grandeur with presence. Solomon himself, standing before the completed temple, offers a profound acknowledgment: “But will God indeed dwell on the earth? Behold, heaven and the highest heaven cannot contain you, how much less this house that I have built” (1 Kings 8:27).

In other words, even at the dedication of Israel’s most extravagant sacred structure, there remained an awareness that God could never be contained by architecture. The prophets later sharpen this warning, repeatedly confronting Israel for placing confidence in the temple while neglecting covenant faithfulness. Jeremiah famously rebukes those who trusted in the words, “The temple of the LORD,” as though proximity to a sacred building somehow guaranteed nearness to God (Jer 7:4). The issue was never the existence of the temple itself; the issue was mistaking the building for the dwelling.

Then comes Jesus, and the movement becomes unmistakable. He speaks of the temple in reference to His own body, predicts the temple’s destruction, and tells the Samaritan woman that worship will no longer be confined to sacred geography. After Pentecost, the New Testament writers make an astonishing claim: we are now the temple. The Spirit of God no longer dwells primarily in buildings made by human hands, but within a gathered people learning to live in covenant presence with God and one another.

That reality should probably cause us to pause and ask some honest questions. Is it possible that modern Christianity has, at times, unintentionally reversed the movement of the New Testament? Have we sometimes become so focused on buildings, productions, polished environments, and experiences that we have overlooked the very thing Jesus seemed most interested in forming: a people deeply devoted to His presence and genuinely present with one another?

The question, then, is not whether buildings are wrong. The deeper question is whether we have ever confused the building for the dwelling. Because from Pentecost forward, God’s primary concern seems far less about constructing impressive places and far more about forming a covenant people in whom His Spirit actually resides. And if that is true, then presence will always matter more than production.

As I finish this article, I want to speak pastorally and honestly for a moment. I also want to direct some of this towards our local body organic church – the TOV community, whom I deeply love and shepherd.

Part of why I felt compelled to write this on Pentecost is because I have been wrestling with the idea of presence, not simply in a theological sense, but in the life of our community. If God’s story is truly a story of divine nearness, if covenant life has always revolved around dwelling together before the face of God, then we have to ask ourselves an honest question: What does presence actually look like in the body of Christ?

And if I can be transparent, this is something I think we need to grow in at TOV.

TOV was never envisioned as an event to attend, a production to consume, or a place where people simply show up whenever it works best for their schedule and leave once they have gotten what they came for. We are not trying to build a show here. We are not interested in creating a church culture built around performers and spectators, musicians and attenders, servers, professionals and consumers. That is not family. That is not covenant. And frankly, that is not the picture Scripture gives us of the gathered people of God.

I want to speak especially to something specific because I think clarity matters in family.

Part of the challenge, if we are honest, is that many people today struggle with the idea of family itself. For some, family has meant pain, dysfunction, inconsistency, betrayal, distance, or disappointment. Others have simply absorbed the rhythms of a modern culture that increasingly values independence over interdependence, convenience over commitment, and autonomy over covenant. We often protect ourselves by staying loosely connected, keeping one foot in and one foot out, avoiding the vulnerability that real belonging requires.

But the biblical vision of family is something altogether different.

When Scripture speaks of the people of God as brothers and sisters, as a household, as one body, it is inviting us into something redeemed. Covenant family is meant to become a picture of restoration, beauty, healing, and belonging. In many ways, the family of God should become what earthly families sometimes fall short of being. A place where people are known and loved, challenged and encouraged, forgiven and strengthened, seen in weakness yet still embraced. Not perfect people, but a faithful people learning to dwell together in the Spirit of God. A people who remain.

And the truth is, that kind of family only happens through presence.

When someone only shows up to play music and then leaves, or disengages once their “part” is done, something is lost. When people begin packing up during the message, leave before prayer, or mentally check out because worship is over and now the “important part” for them is finished, something is communicated whether it is intended or not. It quietly says: I came to do my role, but I was not really here to dwell.

Please hear my heart because this is not condemnation.

I love every person at TOV deeply, and I am thankful beyond words for every gift, every volunteer, every musician, every servant, every person who walks through the doors. This is not about questioning motives or attacking hearts. It is simply an invitation to something deeper.

Because presence matters.

If Pentecost teaches us anything, it is that God does not merely distribute gifts; He creates a people. The Spirit falls not upon isolated individuals doing their own thing, but upon a gathered body devoted to one another. Acts 2 does not describe consumers of spiritual moments. It describes people lingering, eating together, praying together, worshiping together, carrying burdens together, growing together. They remained.

And I think in our modern church culture we have unintentionally normalized a kind of low-commitment Christianity that says, “I’ll be there when it works,” or “I’ll come when I’m needed,” or “I’ll show up for my piece.” But covenant life asks something more beautiful than obligation. It asks for presence.

Not perfection.

Not guilt.

Not legalism.

Presence.

To stay.

To linger.

To pray for someone after service.

To sit through the teaching even when your role is done.

To worship when you are not leading.

To listen when you are not speaking.

To encourage when nobody notices.

To show up not because you are needed on schedule, but because you belong to a family.

Because a better mosaic of new formed spiritual family changes things.

In family, you do not ask, “When is my part over?” In family, you remain because your presence matters to the whole. You stay because people are hurting. You stay because conversations happen after the gathering. You stay because someone might need prayer. You stay because dwelling together in the presence of God cannot be reduced to a timeslot or role.

I want TOV to be a place where people are fully present. Present in worship. Present in the Word. Present in prayer. Present around the table. Present in each other’s victories and heartbreaks. Present enough to notice when someone is struggling. Present enough to help carry burdens. Present enough to actually become woven together in covenant relationship.

And yes, there will be grace. There will always be grace. We all have busy seasons, family demands, work realities, exhaustion, and complications. This is not about attendance policing or performance expectations. It is about posture. It is about asking ourselves if we are truly dwelling among one another in the Spirit of the Lord or simply orbiting around spiritual moments.

Because maybe one of the greatest things we can offer God and one another in an exhausted, distracted, fragmented world is not another program, another production, or another performance.

Maybe it is simply our presence.

Endnotes

  1. Craig S. Keener, Acts: An Exegetical Commentary, Vol. 1 (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2012), 776.
  2. John H. Walton, Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament: Introducing the Conceptual World of the Hebrew Bible, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2018), 114.
  3. Michael J. Gorman, Becoming the Gospel: Paul, Participation, and Mission (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2015), 89.
  4. G. K. Beale, The Temple and the Church’s Mission: A Biblical Theology of the Dwelling Place of God (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2004), 66.
  5. John H. Walton, The Lost World of Genesis One: Ancient Cosmology and the Origins Debate (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2009), 76.
  6. Gordon J. Wenham, Genesis 1–15, Word Biblical Commentary 1 (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1987), 63.
  7. Ludwig Koehler and Walter Baumgartner, The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament, rev. Walter Baumgartner and Johann Jakob Stamm (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 246.
  8. John H. Walton, Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament, 101.
  9. G. K. Beale, The Temple and the Church’s Mission, 81.
  10. Walter Brueggemann, Genesis, Interpretation Commentary (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1982), 49.
  11. Willem A. VanGemeren, ed., New International Dictionary of Old Testament Theology and Exegesis, vol. 3 (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1997), 641.
  12. John Goldingay, Psalms, Volume 1: Psalms 1–41 (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2006), 399.
  13. Walter Brueggemann, Theology of the Old Testament: Testimony, Dispute, Advocacy (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1997), 662.
  14. Gordon J. Wenham, Numbers: An Introduction and Commentary (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 1981), 93.
  15. John Goldingay, Old Testament Theology: Israel’s Gospel (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2003), 520.
  16. Brevard S. Childs, The Book of Exodus: A Critical, Theological Commentary (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1974), 597.
  17. Willem A. VanGemeren, ed., New International Dictionary of Old Testament Theology and Exegesis, vol. 4 (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1997), 58.
  18. Walter Brueggemann, Theology of the Old Testament, 698.
  19. Gordon J. Wenham, Genesis 1–15, 84.
  20. G. K. Beale, The Temple and the Church’s Mission, 78.
  21. John H. Walton, Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament, 123.
  22. Samuel Terrien, The Elusive Presence: Toward a New Biblical Theology (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1978), 19.
  23. John Goldingay, Old Testament Theology: Israel’s Life (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2009), 229.
  24. Walter Brueggemann, Isaiah 1–39 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1998), 251.
  25. Daniel I. Block, The Book of Ezekiel, Chapters 1–24 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997), 352.
  26. Daniel I. Block, The Book of Ezekiel, Chapters 25–48 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 406.
  27. Ben Witherington III, The Acts of the Apostles: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 134.
  28. Andreas J. Köstenberger, John, Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2004), 42.
  29. N. T. Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1996), 407.
  30. Craig R. Koester, The Dwelling of God: The Tabernacle in the Old Testament, Intertestamental Jewish Literature, and the New Testament (Washington, DC: Catholic Biblical Association, 1989), 101.
  31. Craig S. Keener, The Gospel of John: A Commentary, vol. 2 (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2003), 964.
  32. Craig S. Keener, Acts: An Exegetical Commentary, Vol. 1 (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2012), 779.
  33. Gordon D. Fee, God’s Empowering Presence: The Holy Spirit in the Letters of Paul (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 1994), 887.
  34. Ben Witherington III, The Acts of the Apostles, 138.
  35. Craig S. Keener, Acts: An Exegetical Commentary, Vol. 1, 818.
  36. Gordon D. Fee, The First Epistle to the Corinthians, NICNT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1987), 133.
  37. G. K. Beale, The Temple and the Church’s Mission, 248.
  38. Frederick William Danker, ed., A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature, 3rd ed. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000), 878.
  39. Andreas J. Köstenberger, John, 454.
  40. Gordon D. Fee, The First Epistle to the Corinthians, 606.
  41. Luke Timothy Johnson, Hebrews: A Commentary (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2006), 264.
  42. Michael J. Gorman, Becoming the Gospel, 90.
  43. N. T. Wright, Paul and the Faithfulness of God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2013), 1101.

When the Church Feels Like a Marketplace: Holding the Tension Between Torah, Temple, and the Tables Jesus Turned


There are moments when something feels off, even if everything looks right. The lights are good, the systems are clean, the structure is efficient—but underneath it all, there’s a quiet unease. You hear language that sounds more like strategy than shepherding. You notice transactions happening where you expected prayer or discipleship. And somewhere in the back of your mind, the image surfaces: Jesus turning over tables. That instinct shouldn’t be dismissed too quickly. It may be closer to the prophetic instinct than we are comfortable admitting. At the same time, it should not be weaponized into a simplistic critique, because Scripture itself forces us to sit in the tension rather than resolve it prematurely. The question is not whether churches should handle money or organize resources, but whether something deeper has shifted in orientation. And increasingly, in many modern contexts, it has.


If we return to the Torah, we are immediately confronted with a framework that refuses to separate worship from material reality. Israel’s sacrificial system required tangible elements—animals, grain, oil—and participation demanded accessibility. The law itself provides a mechanism for this, allowing worshipers to convert offerings into money, travel, and then purchase what is necessary upon arrival.¹ This is not concession but intentional design. Worship is embodied, and provision is part of covenant life.

By the Second Temple period, this developed into structured systems of exchange: animals available for sacrifice and currency exchange for the temple tax.² These were not inherently corrupt. Properly ordered, they were acts of inclusion. They allowed the distant, the traveler, and the outsider to participate in the life of worship.³ In other words, economic activity, when rightly oriented, can serve the purposes of God. But that qualifier—when rightly oriented—is everything. Because Scripture consistently shows how quickly provision can become distortion when its telos shifts.


When Jesus enters the temple and overturns the tables, He is not reacting to the mere presence of commerce. He is issuing a prophetic judgment. By invoking Isaiah 56 and Jeremiah 7 together, He identifies a system that has not only drifted but has fundamentally betrayed its purpose.⁴ What was meant to be a house of prayer for all nations had become a place where economic practices obscured access to God.

Historical and textual considerations suggest that this activity had overtaken the Court of the Gentiles, displacing the very space intended for the nations.⁵ The implications are profound. The inclusion of the outsider had been replaced with obstruction. What once facilitated worship had begun to control it. Economic systems, likely marked by inflated pricing and exploitative exchange practices, had created a structure in which access to worship was entangled with financial burden.⁶ This is why Jesus’ response is not mild correction but disruptive confrontation. He is not fine-tuning a system; He is exposing it as misaligned at its core.

At this point, a stronger word is necessary. The issue is not simply that the system was imperfect. It had become predatory. It leveraged the sacred for gain. It functioned in a way that mirrored the very economic injustices the prophets had long condemned.⁷ Jesus’ actions must be read in continuity with that prophetic tradition. He is not introducing a new critique; He is embodying an old one with unmistakable clarity. And that same critique might be more real of our churches than ever before.


This brings us directly into the present. The issue is not whether a church rents space, sells resources, or organizes financially. The issue is what kind of people those practices are forming and what kind of witness they are projecting. Scripture presses us to evaluate not only actions but trajectories. Money is never merely functional—it is formative. It reveals what we trust, what we prioritize, and ultimately what we worship.⁸

If we are honest, many modern church contexts have not simply adopted neutral structures but have absorbed the logic of the marketplace itself (that Jesus directly engaged). The language of branding, scaling, growth metrics, and customer experience has quietly replaced the language of formation, sacrifice, and shared life. This is not a minor shift. It is a reorientation of identity. And it should be named plainly: when the church begins to think like a business, it risks becoming something other than the body of Christ.

A clear diagnostic remains helpful here:

When a church begins drifting toward marketplace distortion:

  • Access to belonging or formation becomes subtly conditioned by financial capacity
  • The environment prioritizes curated experience over embodied participation
  • Language reflects branding, scalability, and optimization rather than shepherding
  • Leadership decisions are governed by sustainability metrics rather than faithfulness
  • The poor and marginalized are functionally sidelined

When a church is stewarding resources faithfully:

  • Finances are transparently directed toward discipleship, care, and mission
  • Generosity is tangible and outward-facing
  • Leadership operates with accountability and humility
  • The community functions as a participatory body rather than a consumable experience
  • Resources are held with looseness, not as identity or security

This is not theoretical. These patterns are observable. And they reveal far more than spreadsheets ever could.


The most dangerous shifts are rarely abrupt. They are incremental. A church begins by seeking to reach more people, then to sustain growth, then to manage complexity, and eventually to preserve what has been built. Each step seems reasonable. Each decision appears justifiable. But over time, the framework changes. People become metrics. Gatherings become products. Success becomes measurable in ways that Scripture never prioritizes.

The book of Revelation offers a piercing critique of economic systems that shape allegiance and identity, portraying entire structures of commerce as complicit in spiritual compromise.⁹ The warning is not against trade itself but against systems that form people into participants of empire rather than citizens of the kingdom. When the church begins to mirror those systems—when it adopts their language, their priorities, and their measures of success—it risks losing its distinctiveness altogether.


Jesus’ actions in the temple are not simply corrective; they are revelatory. He exposes what has been normalized and calls it what it is. He reclaims sacred space as a place of prayer, presence, and access, particularly for those who had been excluded.¹⁰ That reorientation is not optional for the church—it is foundational. And here is where the tension sharpens. We must ask, without deflection, whether there are patterns within modern church life that Jesus Himself would confront. Not critique from a distance, but actively disrupt. That question requires courage, because it moves us beyond abstract theology into lived practice.


There is a deeply Hebraic way to frame what is at stake here, and it presses beyond systems into the level of the heart. The biblical language of worship is not built on transaction but on orientation. The Hebrew word ʿābad (עָבַד) carries the dual sense of “to serve” and “to worship,” reminding us that worship is not something offered at a distance but embodied in lived allegiance.¹² Likewise, šāḥâ (שָׁחָה), often translated “to worship,” literally means to bow down, to orient oneself in submission before a king.¹³ When these are paired with qōdeš (קֹדֶשׁ)—that which is set apart, wholly other—we begin to see that sacred space is not defined by activity but by alignment.¹⁴ Even the language of redemption, gāʾal (גָּאַל), evokes not a commercial exchange but a relational act of covenantal restoration carried out by a kinsman-redeemer.¹⁵ In this light, the danger of a marketplace mentality is not merely that money is present, but that it subtly reshapes worship into something the Hebrew Scriptures never envisioned: a negotiable interaction rather than a surrendered life. When worship becomes something we manage, structure, and transact, it drifts from ʿābad into something closer to control, and from šāḥâ into something that no longer bows. The question, then, is not simply what we are doing in our spaces, but whether we are still a people rightly oriented—bowed, serving, and set apart—or whether we have unconsciously redefined worship in the image of the systems we inhabit in actions of control.


The discomfort many feel is not something to be dismissed. It may be an echo of the prophetic voice that runs from the Torah through the prophets and into the ministry of Jesus. At the same time, wisdom requires that we do not collapse into reactionary conclusions. The presence of structure or financial systems is not inherently unfaithful. The Torah affirms provision. The early church managed resources and shared them generously.¹¹

But neither should we soften the warning. When money begins to shape identity, when access becomes entangled with transaction, and when the church begins to resemble the marketplace more than the kingdom, something has gone wrong. And it is precisely in that space that the image of overturned tables must be allowed to confront us again.

The church was never meant to be a place that sells access to God. It was meant to be a people who embody His presence freely. When money serves that reality, it becomes a tool of life. When it begins to redefine that reality, it becomes an idol. And idols, in the biblical story, are never reformed. They are overturned.


Notes

  1. Deut 14:24–26.
  2. E. P. Sanders, Judaism: Practice and Belief 63 BCE–66 CE (Philadelphia: Trinity Press, 1992), 69–71.
  3. John H. Walton, Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2006), 305–307.
  4. Isa 56:7; Jer 7:11.
  5. Craig A. Evans, Mark 8:27–16:20 (WBC 34B; Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2001), 186–188.
  6. N. T. Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996), 417–419.
  7. Amos 5:21–24; cf. Richard B. Hays, The Moral Vision of the New Testament (San Francisco: HarperOne, 1996), 200–203.
  8. Prov 11:4; Matt 6:21; Tremper Longman III, How to Read Proverbs (Downers Grove: IVP, 2002), 168–170.
  9. Rev 18:11–13; Richard Bauckham, The Theology of the Book of Revelation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 74–77.
  10. Luke 19:45–46; Scot McKnight, The King Jesus Gospel (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2011), 152–154.
  11. Acts 2:44–45; 4:32–35; Michael J. Gorman, Reading Revelation Responsibly (Eugene: Cascade, 2011), 103–105.
  12. Ludwig Koehler and Walter Baumgartner, The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament, vol. 2 (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 773–75.
  13. William L. Holladay, A Concise Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1971), 367.
  14. R. Laird Harris, Gleason L. Archer Jr., and Bruce K. Waltke, Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament, vol. 2 (Chicago: Moody, 1980), 787–88.
  15. Helmer Ringgren, “גאל,” in Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament, vol. 2 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1975), 350–55.

THE DIFFICULTY OF HOMOSEXUALITY IN THE BIBLE IN A MODERN ERA

If you know anything about me, you know that I am going to tell you what the Bible says as transparently as possible, present the options and issues and let you come to your own conclusion. Nothing is spoon fed. So, I am not going to approach this very difficult issue slightly differently than I have in the past. I wrote a post of homosexuality years ago and I haven’t changed my perspective on that post, but I have come to also frame the same discussions a bit differently. You might want to read this post first.

What I think doesn’t really matter, it is what the Bible says. However, in any theology and interpretation we have to deduce things. When the Bible isn’t perfectly clear we use our God given minds guided by the Holy Spirit to arrive at truth. Sometimes we come to different results, and I would encourage you to honor and respect varied biblically based views.

The Bible introduces human sexuality within the context of God’s creative design. “So God created man in His own image; in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them” (Genesis 1:27). This foundational premise establishes the binary nature of human sexuality as woven into God’s original creation. In Genesis 2:24, the union of man and woman is depicted as a one-flesh covenant: “For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and they will become one flesh.” The emphasis on male-female pairing is the template for marriage, consistently referenced throughout Scripture.1

In describing the sin of Sodom and Gomorrah, Genesis 19:4-11 recounts men of the city demanding sexual relations with Lot’s guests, who were angels in human form. The account highlights immoral behavior at multiple levels, which includes homosexual acts. While this passage also addresses other grave sins (Ezekiel 16:49-50 mentions pride, neglect of the poor, and abominable acts), the sexual violation in Genesis 19 is one of the clearest aspects of Sodom’s guilt. Homosexuality is clearly treated as sin.2

Leviticus 18:22 states, “You must not lie with a man as with a woman; that is an abomination.” Likewise, Leviticus 20:13 addresses the same practice as forbidden. These prohibitions appear in a broader context that includes various other sexual sins (e.g., incest, bestiality, and adultery), demonstrating that Scripture draws boundaries around intimacy for Israel, reflecting God’s holiness and will for human sexuality.3

Although the Gospels do not record Jesus specifically saying the word “homosexuality,” in Matthew 19:4-6, Jesus refers to the “male and female” design for marriage reaffirming the OT Genesis covenant by a since of REMEZ which then would carry other OT connotation. Jesus also underscores sexual purity (Matthew 5:27-28; Mark 7:20-23). He does not offer a direct commentary on same-sex relationships in the recorded Gospels, but many will argue that He established framework for marriage, sexual purity, and upholding Scriptural commands providing the overarching context. Matthew 5:17-18 underscores that Jesus came to fulfill the Law, not dismantle it. Ethical instructions, including sexual conduct, gain deeper clarity in the New Covenant but remain consistent in reflecting God’s righteous nature. Within this framework, contexts like Leviticus remain relevant as a moral guidepost, interpreted in the light of Christ’s sacrificial redemption.4

Paul’s epistles also touch on the acts in Romans 1:26-27: “Even their women exchanged natural relations for unnatural ones. In the same way, the men abandoned natural relations with women and burned with lust for one another…” This passage highlights a departure from God’s design, emphasizing that certain acts are not in line with His created order. Perhaps similar to how Jesus mentioned them. 1 Corinthians 6:9-10: “Do you not know that the wicked will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral… nor homosexuals, nor thieves… will inherit the kingdom of God.” Here, Paul places homosexual behavior among a list of sins. Yet in the following verse, 1 Corinthians 6:11, he offers hope: “And that is what some of you were. But you were washed…” The emphasis is on transformation and redemption offered by God. This is a challenging interpretation. Finally, 1 Timothy 1:9-11 also categorizes homosexual acts with other sins that contradict “sound teaching,” reinforcing the broader biblical ethic on sexuality. In each instance, Paul addresses same-sex activity as one among various actions deemed inconsistent with the holy living God calls believers to pursue. It seems to treat homosexuality as any other “SINFUL” act.5 Those involved in these acts are missing the mark.

Well, the above probably sounds rather convincing. And I think if you are truly unbiased, it should. I would argue there is a strong biblical directive that homosexuality both NT and OT treat the act of homosexuality as a sin. But let’s also consider the other ramifications of the arguments. It seems that much of our evangelical Christian world continues to live in a sinful state. You might reconsider…

Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger in the dirt. They kept at him, badgering him. He straightened up and said, “The sinless one among you, go first: Throw the stone.” Bending down again, he wrote some more in the dirt. Hearing that, they walked away, one after another, beginning with the oldest. The woman was left alone. Jesus stood up and spoke to her. “Woman, where are they? Does no one condemn you?” “No one, Master.” “Neither do I,” said Jesus. “Go on your way. From now on, don’t sin.”] Note: John 7:53–8:11 [the portion in brackets] is not found in the earliest handwritten copies. John 8:7-11

The OT is complicated. What do we take with us and what do we leave behind? Most Evangelical Christians I know no longer keep much if any of the law (starting with the most basic 10 commandments of honoring the sabbath – you probably don’t even know when that starts and ends let alone keep it!) What comes with us as Christians and what stays behind as antiquated law that can’t or no longer needs to be followed in the spirit of Romans 7:6? Perhaps the things Jesus restates come with, but then we have the issue that Jesus followed the law to a T (Levitical not Rabbinical law) and we are to follow His example.6

Let me give you a brief example of some of the other difficulties…

Leviticus 25:44 states that I may possess slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighboring nations. Exodus 21:7 seems to say it is just to sell my daughter to slavery. Exodus 35:2 clearly states violators of the Sabbath may be put to death. Furthermore, homosexuality is often listed with other things that seem much more minor in the OT and could be viewed as premodern-world best practice for health. For instance, Lev. 11:10 says eating shellfish is an “abomination”, and using same words used to describe homosexuality in Lev. 18.7 The argument would then be that perhaps the law suggested things to an ancient world that would keep their nation pure and (sexually) disease free (circumcision, and various purification laws.) Once science caught up with a modern world are these no longer concerns? Do you want to get into a conversation of intention? You might have no issues eating shellfish today but speak up against homosexuality. Is that biased? Did Jesus truly state everything that was important to continue to keep in the law? Does your theology say if Jesus didn’t restate something then it doesn’t need to be followed? He was pretty vague on homosexuality. Some would say if His intention was to call it sin, He could have been much clearer on it. If he was a good teacher wouln’t he have been more clear if that was His intention? What about other simple issues like Lev. 11:6-8 says that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, did you ever consider a football is made of pigskin? Why do some Christians seem to so easily pick and choose what to condemn from the law and what to not even consider? Lev.19:19 indicates we shouldn’t plant two different crops in the same field, or wear garments made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). You could even argue Lev.24:10-16 makes a case to stone them or that Lev. 20:14 says to burn those caught in incestual relationships. Are you starting to see the complications that might come with being unbiased to the text, trying to decide what still should carry over to us? Why are women in the OT not upheld to the same sexual standards as men?8 What about miskebe issa?9 Do we want to get into that conversation?

Lastly, aren’t we called to strive to live 100% towards the finished eschatological goal? Some have said that there will be no genders in heaven, however I would argue the Bible seems to lean the other way. There is nothing in the Bible that indicates people will lose or change their gender in heaven. On the contrary, the Bible implies that we will remain who we are in heaven, and gender is likely part of who we are. In paradise, Lazarus was still Lazurus, and Abraham was still Abraham (Luke 16:22–24). But make no mistake, the first two chapters and the last two chapters are God’s ideals and at the very least there is gender equality. But that still doesn’t address all the questions or issues eschatologically. Jesus says, “At the resurrection, people will neither marry nor be given in marriage; they will be like the angels in heaven.” – Matthew 22:30 The problem is Angels in Heaven had a distinctive Genesis 6 problem that had to do with all things sexual. What do you do with that? If you are going down this road, you might also consider the texts of Genesis‬ ‭3‬:‭15‬, Genesis 6:2, Genesis 19:5-8, in comparison to Galations 3:26 and Mark 12:25.

Each person may have a different interpretation of the scripture and be in a slightly different situation. I think we should walk in balance and peace but encourage better Biblical interpretation. Has modernity and science changed over time compared to the law as a stop gap for the coming of the messiah and possibly modern medicine? (Some will argue God uses modern medicine, some see modern medicine as opposite of the healing God offers.) There are several things that should come into your theological lens in terms of agreement within your theology on this matter.

On the one hand, if you are reading this, you most likely believe the Bible is God’s Word and we can’t with integrity deny that it teaches that sex outside the parameters of a monogamous, life-long, marriage covenant is sin, whether it is sex with a person of a different gender or sex with a person of the same gender. We find the arguments of those who try to argue that Rom.1:24-28-, I Cor. 6:9 and I Tim. 1:10 don’t apply to monogamous gay relationships simply aren’t very persuasive. On the other hand, we sense that something is “off” with the stance of the church throughout history, and the stance of most evangelical churches today, toward gay people. Jesus would have unequivocally loved them and invited them to repent and join His kingdom. The approach isn’t consistent or balanced.

As an example, many of us wonder why it is that the church (rightly) embraces without question people who have been divorced and remarried – several times, in some cases –but adamantly excludes committed gay couples – couples who sometimes have a love for one another that puts the love of many straight couples to shame. What makes this question especially important is that the New Testament’s teaching that divorce and remarriage involves sin is much more emphatic and clear than it’s teaching that gay unions involve sin (see e.g. Mt. 5:32; 19:9). In fact, while Jesus taught on the sin of divorce and remarriage several times, he never even mentioned homosexuality. I have said it many times over the years, but once you step away from God’s ideal of 1 man and 1 woman united as one before the LORD in ANY WAY… you are outside of His perfect will for you. In every other situation grace covers you equally. However, we are also told to not continue to live in sin. You might argue that remarriage isn’t necessarily sin but living in homosexuality is. We also have to consider not giving into the tendencies, urge or temptations. What about the one who has the sexual urges towards homosexuality but never gratifies those urges? Isn’t that essentially the same as not giving into any sinful temptation? I think if you are truly approaching this issue with an un-biased approach toward faithful hermeneutical interpretation this subject is going to be far more complicated than you may have ever considered.

Let me get back to grace. My point is not that the church should exclude divorced and remarried people. While divorce and remarriage “misses the mark” of God’s ideal, which is the Bible’s definition of sin (harmartia), I believe that, by God’s grace, this is sometimes the best option for people. My point is rather that there seems to be an inconsistency on the part of the church on this matter, and many of us wonder why.10

Scripture consistently presents homosexual practice, like adultery and various other sexual acts outside of a man-woman marriage covenant, as contrary to God’s design. So, let’s be consistent!

At the same time, the Bible declares the potential for repentance, transformation, and redemption for all people regardless of background or personal history. For many interpreters, this forms the unified, scriptural teaching on homosexuality. In summary, the biblical record reflects a consistent stance on the question at hand-rooted in God’s initial design, repeated in the ethical instructions of both Old and New Testaments, and ultimately encompassed by the message of grace and hope found in Christ.

  1. https://biblehub.com/q/what_does_the_bible_say_on_homosexuality.htm ↩︎
  2. Joyce, Paul M. (2009). Ezekiel: A Commentary. Continuum. ISBN 9780567483614. ↩︎
  3. Eisenberg, Ronald (2005), The 613 Mitzvot: A Contemporary Guide to the Commandments of Judaism, Schreiber Publishing, ISBN 0-88400-303-5 ↩︎
  4. Massey, Lesly F. (2015). Daughters of God, Subordinates of Men: Women and the Roots of Patriarchy in the New Testament. McFarland, Incorporated, Publishers. p. 100. ISBN 978-1-4766-2143-2. ↩︎
  5. Coogan, Michael (October 2010). God and Sex: What the Bible Really Says (1st ed.). New York, Boston: Twelve. Hachette Book Group. p. 33. ISBN 978-0-446-54525-9. ↩︎
  6. Coogan 2010, p. 135: “Finally, the Hebrew Bible is silent about lesbian relationships, probably because they did not relate to patriarchy—or, for that matter, to paternity.” ↩︎
  7. Meirowitz, Sara N.S. (2009). “Not Like a Virgin: Talking about Nonmarital Sex”. In Ruttenberg, Danya (ed.). The Passionate Torah: Sex and Judaism. NYU Press. p. 173. ISBN 978-0-8147-7605-6. ↩︎
  8. Alpert, Rebecca T. (2009). “Reconsidering Solitary Sex from a Jewish Perspective”. In Ruttenberg, Danya (ed.). The Passionate Torah: Sex and Judaism. NYU Press. p. 185. ISBN 978-0-8147-7605-6. In the Hebrew Bible there is no same-gender sexuality for women and no allusion to female masturbation, whereas lying with a man as with a woman is prohibited at least twice in the Torah. ↩︎
  9.  “Since illicit carnal relations are implied by the term miškĕbê ʾiššâ, it may be plausibly suggested that homosexuality is herewith forbidden for only the equivalent degree of forbidden heterosexual relations, namely, those enumerated in the preceding verses (D. Stewart). However, sexual liaisons occurring with males outside these relations would not be forbidden. And since the same term miškĕbê ʾiššâ is used in the list containing sanctions (20:13), it would mean that sexual liaisons with males, falling outside the control of the paterfamilias, would be neither condemnable nor punishable. Thus miskĕbê ʾiššâ, referring to illicit male—female relations, is applied to illicit male—male relations, and the literal meaning of our verse is: do not have sex with a male with whose widow sex is forbidden. In effect, this means that the homosexual prohibition applies to Ego with father, son, and brother (subsumed in v. 6) and to grandfather—grandson, uncle—nephew, and stepfather—stepson, but not to any other male.” – Jacob Milgrom, Leviticus 17-22: A New Translation With Introduction and Commentary, Anchor Yale Bible vol. 3, Yale University Press, 2007, page 1569 ↩︎
  10. https://reknew.org/2012/10/homosexuality-and-the-church-finding-a-third-way/ ↩︎

NATURAL ORDER

I want to talk about what is meant by God’s order, but before I do that, I want to guide you through a brief exegetical teaching through the text. When you hear the word order in relation to a biblical sense we have been conditioned to think about creation, law, hierarchy in the church and marriage, and perhaps even church discipline. Although it encompasses those things, I find it unfortunate that we start there, and therefore I feel we might need some deconstruction to get to good.

As I begin to read this in Hebrew the first thing that I notice in contrast to most English translations is the phrase “My prayer” is not found in the text. It isn’t a bad translation as I get the context leans that way but in Hebrew the verse better reads, “I will order toward you” which emphasizes a slightly different posture. Interesting the word prayer isn’t really there, perhaps a NT implication or even insertion. Prayer in the OT was a bit different than the way we understand it today. It was communal and far less personal (unless God appeared to you in a bush and orally spoke directly to you), after Jesus ascends to the throne and sends the Spirit to dwell in us and intercede, the biblical concept of prayer takes on a different form than what it had been considered over the last 2000 years or more. The way people thought of “prayer” in the OT may or may not be accurate. Are we just reading what they thought prayer was supposed to be perhaps based on what they knew of their former deities? Is this something that they got a bit off track with and Jesus sought to adjust or shed new light on? Perhaps, but perhaps not. Maybe our prayer should take a cue from the OT notions. When we read this verse in Hebrew form, we see that David isn’t talking about ritualistic prayer, or is he? He isn’t necessarily folding his hands and closing his eyes – but he is sort of. He is making a statement that if his life is in alignment with what is of God – TOV (creation order language), then he expects God to acknowledge and “DO THINGS” on his behalf. This may tie into the never-ending OT grappling over whether God was retributive or not, but it certainly had the trajectory of demonstrating the idea of devotion in connection to intimacy with the Lord. This connection over the years will then be attributed to the conjecture of relationship with the father in prayer. Some prayer is communal and some is personal.

Different people interact with God differently and perhaps in different seasons. Some say they don’t hear God and others act like God never stops screaming in their ear. How can the voice of God differ from person to person? Is it based on the posture of the heart, covenant faithfulness, gifting, seasons, understanding, choice, some sort of prejudice, or something completely different that is higher than our understanding? I believe that God is just that dynamic. I don’t know why He communicates differently to people and what it might be based on; I don’t always have the eyes of God. I believe Him to be Sovereign and know significantly more than we do in a much more complex grid. I am convinced that there are many things that influence this covenant relationship at a cosmic level. It is far bigger than simply me, and to think of my relationship with God (the creator of the universe) as doating on my every thought seems like a selfish notion. Does that view minimize a personal relationship or exemplify it?

God’s order is described in everything naturally defined by Yahweh and described generally as what is good (TOV). This is creation, the waters, the counting of the ark, the building of the temple, the pieces of firewood set in order for a sacrificial fire, showbread set out in two rows of six cakes on the gold table (Lev 24:8); seven altars set up by the pagan mantic Balaam (Num 23:4); stalks of flax arranged by Rahab for hiding the spies (Josh 2:6); a table prepared for dining (Ps 23:5; Isa 21:5); words produced for speaking (Job 32:14); a legal case developed for presentation (Job 13:18); etc. In II Sam 23:5 David exults in the covenant granted him by Yahweh, “for he has made with me an everlasting covenant, / ordered (ʿărûkâ) in all things and secure.[1] We see God’s order in many ways, but the common thread that binds seems to be that it is given as a framework for our devotion to Him. This intimate devotion that is often described as reading or memorizing scripture, devotional repetition, standards of practice and living, and so much more are all described as what it means to be defined as SET APART. That we are defined and claimed as part of God’s order not the chaos of the world.

What defines this? Covenant. Covenant is the secure, accessible, and recognizable attribute of everything good that God offers to us. It is the basis of all of our interaction with the LORD. Without covenant we are detached or separated from the creator and his ways. When David chooses every morning to be in order, he is making a statement about the balance of life and the posture of the heart. The Hebrew term בְּרִית bĕriyth for “covenant” is from a root with the sense of “cutting”, because pacts or covenants were made by passing between cut pieces of flesh of an animal sacrifice.[2] It meant something deep.

The New Covenant is a biblical interpretation originally derived from a phrase in the Book of Jeremiah and often thought of as an eschatological world to come related to the biblical concept of the Kingdom of God. Generally, Christians believe that the New Covenant was instituted at the Last Supper as part of the Eucharist, which in the Gospel of John includes the New Commandment.[3] A connection between the Blood of Christ and the New Covenant is portrayed with the saying: “this cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood”. Jesus is therefore the mediator of this New Covenant, and that his blood, shed is the required blood of the covenant. This is true looking back in both testaments and can be seen in all of the biblical covenants of the bible.

In the Christian context, this New Covenant is associated with the word ‘testament‘ in the sense of a ‘will left after the death of a person (Latin testamentum),[4] the original Greek word used in Scripture being diatheke (διαθήκη) which in the Greek context meant ‘will (left after death)’ but is also a word play having a dual meaning of ‘covenant, alliance’.[5] This notion implies a reinterpreted view of the Old Testament covenant as possessing characteristics of a ‘will left after death’ placing the old covenant, brit (בְּרִית) into a new application of understanding as revealed by the death, resurrection, ascension, and throning of CHRIST THE KING, JESUS. All things will forever connect at the covenants and be defined by the atoning accomplishments that transform into a covenant of eternity.

Order today might be better understood as a continually evolving algorithm based on the posture of your covenant faithfulness which, as I have described, is defined by many facets of devotion. Some may hear the audible voice of God more clearly while others simply see Him in every image. The revelation of God to us isn’t in a form of hierarchy. One form of transcendence doesn’t trump another. Who are we to judge anyway. But I do know that most of Christianity seems to be off course here. Rather than coming to the LORD as the cosmic wish granting genie in a bottle, let’s get back to biblical roots and think more covenantal and devotional based on the order that God modeled for us.

[1] Harris, R. L., Archer, G. L., Jr., & Waltke, B. K. (Eds.). (1999). Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament (electronic ed., p. 696). Chicago: Moody Press.

[2] Strong’s Concordance (1890).

[3] “Comparison of the two covenants mediated by Moses and the two covenants mediated by Jesus”. 25 September 2022. Archived from the original on 2022-09-28. Retrieved 2023-01-29.

[4]“testamentum: Latin Word Study Tool”. http://www.perseus.tufts.edu. Retrieved 2020-08-12.

[5] G1242 – diathēkē – Strong’s Greek Lexicon (KJV)”. Blue Letter Bible. Retrieved 2020-08-12.

planning and leading groups or events

In the evangelical world we are often put “in charge” of planning, directing, or running programs with little if any shepherding. If you haven’t ever been “thrown into the ring,” it’s just a matter of time. Sometimes this is called the moment of sink or swim. In one regard, this is good for maturing Christian. We gotta learn to fly (reliance on the spirit) at some point and we likely won’t get there if we never simply “JUMP!” On the other hand, if this is the only option, it could leave scars. The better plan is to disciple those “under” you to walk with you, learn by your example, and be guided and coached before being asked to fly. They need a shepherd and whether you realize it or not, this is the pre-eminent call to every believer. That we each might disciple one, two, three, twelve, and perhaps eventually 70 under our tutelage. This is the biblical plan of multiplicity and needs to be taken seriously and done well. But fear not, if you were just thrown into the ring being asked to plan and run some kind of an event such as a small group, a bible study, a prayer meeting, or worship service; this will help you to do it with excellence.

  • Start with prayer. Get a prayer team, an accountability partner, those that you are hoping will join you in the endeavor and be devoted each day to prayer. Think and pray strategically before you begin the rest of the points below.
  • Two is better than one. Invite a partner. Being the “BIG DOG” isn’t Biblical.
  • Consider your primary goal as shepherding others. How can you use this “event” to truly demonstrate Jesus and bring others closer to Him?
  • Think big. Be a visionary. What does it look like to do this exceedingly well for Jesus. What is the measure of success? What are the why’s and the how’s of the plan. What are your strengths and what do you need help with? What does great fruit look like? How can this influence and shape similar events to come?
  • Consider mapping it out on paper. Brainstorm either in a meeting or by something shareable and get feedback. Look for red flags, big wins, and things you haven’t considered. Pray for the eyes of others. When you enlist the help of others it builds spiritual alliances and surrounds you with success partners. Let your success all be the success of others.
  • Consider the ACTS (Adoration, confession, thanksgiving, and supplication) of prayer.
  • Make a goal and schedule and stick to it. Keep yourself and your team on target communicating every day with the major goal of shepherding and encouraging. Consider encouraging text messages, gifts, links to inspiration, and whatever it takes to help prepare your team for what you see. Learn to encourage even when your frustrated with someone.
  • Consider appointing leaders of potential situations. If you are considering breaking up into small groups, consider asking and empowering those you ask before the event. Let them prepare, help them prepare, and paint big pictures. Walk with them. Communicate to the group what their role is. Consider doing some research for them for whatever you’re asking them to do to or at least ignite that fire. Perhaps send them studies or YouTube links on the content area.
  • Consider safety measures and precautions.
  • Always consider personal testimony. Let them know the time restraints, ask them to prepare, and possibly even meet them and listen to what they want to share and help coach them.
  • When something is out of your expertise, find articles, videos, or in person help from the experts.
  • If you have subgroups for the event, regularly check in with them as you carefully and positively encourage them towards best measures of planning and communication. Lead by example.
  • Be ready to shepherd people from start to finish and in a spiritual sense remember that “performance” or “skill” isn’t everything. There are a lot of other dynamics that will go into building a team.
  • Think about ways to use other people’s gifts in the periphery. Think outside the box, and perhaps even advertise asking how people may want to contribute. Always encourage quality giving, serving, and interaction.
  • Build, use, and look for opportunities to shepherd. If you aren’t usually in this position, it may present an opportunity that you don’t usually have to impact someone. What are those moments and who are the people?
  • Be strategic and intentional. Don’t use most of your energy doing something that isn’t part of the big picture. Recruit people as much as you can but be sensitive to the perceptions you may be sending to each person and consider aspects you may not be prepared for or ready for. But also invite the spirit to do what is out of your understanding and expertise. Don’t put anyone or anything in a box.
  • Think personal “face to face” communication and phone calls over text messaging and email; but realize they all have a place in positive planning and communication.
  • Everyone should be impacted with a feeling of clarity and confidence in exactly what they need to do, how they need to do it, and when it needs to be done. Reiterate this with follow up in writing communication.
  • Help each individual understand their role within the team and be open to what else they may contribute. Learn to interpret everything as positive and don’t allow yourself to ever be offended. Shepherd everything and learn to be shepherded by anything and anyone. Learn from the least of these. Don’t allow pride to slip in, pray against it, and appoint someone to watch and coach you helping identify issues that need more of your attention. Find someone that doesn’t only have your back but has your eyes.
  • Inspire creativity and cooperation amongst a team and those outside of the team or on other teams.
  • Take individual ideas and refine them to actionable solutions. Iron sharpens iron but help your team understand that great conversation at times will sound like a debate. Encourage but shepherd. If someone says something that seems off, be an agent of edification and restate what they said from a positive perspective.
  • Clarify collective goals and deadlines so that each person sees their role in achieving them.
  • Create and shepherd great meetings: Define the Meeting Objectives, Create an Agenda + Send Calendar Invites, Create a Safe Space for Collaboration, Strategically Choose Attendees + Appoint Important Roles, Use Best Practices to Stay on Track, End With Clear Actions, Owners, and Timelines.
  • Respect peoples times and energy but also set the tone for kingdom giving of peoples best: Use positive reinforcement to recognize achievements rather than magnifying shortcomings. Never publicly reprimand a team person in front of the team. Avoid blaming any specific team or individual for a problem. Research shows that this destroys trust and confidence in a leader. Instead, opt for curiosity and stay solution-oriented. Ask for feedback. Asking for feedback increases people’s trust in you and their leaders. Lead by humility and sacrifice.
  • Avoid side discussion and keep people engaged. Start with a story or study that pints to Biblical understanding towards your where you are shepherding.
  • If you are married don’t meet one on one with someone of the opposite sex, always meet in three or more with mixed gender meetings.
  • Learn to always shepherd, especially difficult people. Always walk by Matthew 18 and never let the sun go down between you or a team member without coming together in love. Work harder on understanding other people’s perspectives and learning their love languages. Consider the relationship over the need to be “right.” Take a Philippians 2 perspective of humility. Don’t allow yourself to be mad or frustrated.
  • Plan more time than you think you need.