When you first meet people, along with noticing their gender and race, guessing their age and learning their name, you might ask about their cultural background, occupation, significant relationships, and where they live. Going deeper, a more penetrating question is to ask them about their story: What is their family background? What in their past has made them who they are today? Where are they heading in life? What defines them? Human beings tell stories about themselves that matter.
Indeed, our stories play a vital role in expressing who we are. We each have what Timothy Keller calls a narrative identity: “Everyone lives and operates out of some narrative identity, whether it is thought out and reflected upon or not.”1 Such narratives give meaning to our lives, sketch our character in outline, and tell us what is important in life.
Often a person’s story begins before that person was born. My father was born in Vienna in a Jewish family. He was an only child, and when he was a young teenager, he and his parents fled Europe soon after Hitler took over Austria in 1938. They headed for Shanghai where there was an international settlement that accepted stateless refugees. They spent ten years there, in the “waiting room,” as the settlement has since been called. All three became Christians there. In 1949, after the war was over, they immigrated to Australia. My father met my mother, an Australian, in Sydney, and they married in 1953. Seeing I didn’t come along until 1959, how can all of this be part of my story?
It is in fact quite common for family histories to have an impact on a person’s identity. In my case, my father’s history affects a number of things about me, including my attitude to education (which my father missed out on), to refugees, to Jews and Judaism, to European history and culture, to playing chess, to food, music, and so on. Of course my life has had many other influences. But my experience is not unusual. Such “second hand” memories, in which we were not present or the primary actor, are testimony to the formative power of larger narratives for personal identity, stories of which we find ourselves a part and which we share with others.
National identities are another illustration of the role of shared memories in forming identity. National identity is all about past events that shape national character today. For example, the high value Americans place on freedom and personal rights derives significantly from the story of the Revolution and national formation in the 1770s and 1780s. Foundational figures such as George Washington and Thomas Jefferson and documents such as the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of the United States remain a part of public discourse and imagination. With these stories and symbols, Americans have woven together an ongoing cultural narrative of their society as a land of opportunity and as a “melting pot” of peoples from diverse ethnic backgrounds.
The Bible, in fact, has much to say about the impact of shared memories on what makes you, you. It also highlights the significance of future destiny for your identity. As Bruce Waltke puts it, in the Bible “identity is formed by two factors: memory and destiny.”2 And as we’ll see in this chapter in both the Old and New Testaments, shared memory and a defining destiny play a major role in the stories God’s people tell about themselves.
“We are grass, no doubt of it. But with a sense of history we can have a perspective that lifts us out of our very brief moment here. Certainly this is one purpose of biblical narrative.”
Marilynne Robinson3
To some degree, tracing your history is easily done. But knowing where your life is heading can be more difficult to ascertain. According to literary critic Gary Saul Morson:
Closure and structure mark the difference between life as it is lived and as it is read about; and real people live without the benefit of an outside perspective on which both closure and structure depend.4
Viewed from “under the sun,” the vast majority of people’s lives do not seem to build towards a satisfying ending or any sense of resolution. Our lives appear to be driven in large part by random events, and, as much as we try, they do not proceed in any predictable direction over the long course. Indeed, an atheist worldview has often led to pessimistic nihilism and the conclusion that human existence is meaningless.
Yet Christians believe that God provides the necessary “outside perspective” of which Morson speaks. In other words, being known by God gives our lives both structure and closure. As the psalmist prays: “You have searched me, Lord, and you know me. . . . all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be” (Ps 139:1, 16). While it is true, as Ecclesiastes puts it, that living “under the sun” means that our lives are dogged by harsh adversity and constraining limitations, we can still know that the genre of our life stories is set and the ending has already been written.
As those who are known by God as his children, the defining moment of our lives was long before we were born, namely the death of Jesus Christ, a death with which we so closely identify that it can be called our own. And our destiny is likewise tied up with him inextricably, for when Christ returns and is publicly made known as the risen Son of God, our true identity as children of God will also be revealed:
You died [our shared memory], and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you also will appear with him in glory [our defining destiny]. (Col 3:3–4)
To say that Christ is your life (Col 3:4) is one of the most profound and yet puzzling claims in Scripture. What does it mean? Comparable statements elsewhere in Paul’s letters include Philippians 1:21, where he writes that for him, “to live is Christ.” Here Paul is saying that his life is filled with the joy of knowing Christ and the task of proclaiming Christ. Closer to Paul’s meaning in Colossians 3:4 perhaps are those passages where he says that Christ is “in” him (Gal 1:16) or “lives in” him (Gal 2:20), or where he affirms that Christ is “in” believers (Col 1:27) and dwells in their hearts (Eph 3:17). In Galatians 4:19, Paul declares that he wants Christ to be formed in the Christians to whom he writes. The thrust of these passages is that the one in whom Christ dwells “should become like Christ in character.”5 Having Christ “in you” is to become like Christ.
Richard Bauckham suggests that personal identity can be viewed from two angles, both of which relate directly to finding your identity in Christ: “The self is a unique and particular center of personal identity that can be characterized as relational and narratival. It is relational in that it is formed in personal and non-personal relationships. . . . It is narratival in that it is formed in and through time and finds its unique identity in a story with a past, present and expected future. The human self has no independent being, outside of relationships, and no timeless existence outside of the temporal reality that we can only describe in narrative.”6 The self is relational; we are known by God, and the narratival self is known in Christ in connection with his death, resurrection, and return.
However, Paul’s assertion that Christ is your life (Col 3:4) seems to be saying something slightly different. In context, Paul is claiming in Colossians 3 that our lives have the shape of Christ’s life; the life of Christ is our narratival identity. We share his death, and we will share his resurrection. Being in Christ (see chapter eight) means that when he died, we died, and when he is vindicated as the Son of God, our own secret but true identity will be revealed.7
“You have a ‘true life,’ the hidden life of your real self, your new self.”
N. T. Wright8
There are many passages in the New Testament, especially in Paul’s letters, that speak of our identity in terms of a shared memory and a defining destiny. We will consider eight that are especially clear with regard to the critical importance of a common past and a momentous future for the personal identity of believers in Christ:
Shared Memory
• We Were Bought at a Price—1 Corinthians 7:21–24
• We Died with Christ—Romans 6:3–10
• We Carry Around the Death of Jesus—2 Corinthians 4:10–12
Defining Destiny
• We Are Hard Pressed for Time—1 Corinthians 7:29–31
• We Have Been Sealed for the Day of Redemption—Ephesians 1:13–14
• We Belong to the Day—Romans 13:11–14
• We Shall Be Like Him—1 John 3:1–3
• We Await Our Resurrection Bodies—1 Corinthians 15
Note that these eight summary statements are not phrased in the singular—“I was bought at a price” and so on—but rather in the plural: “We were bought at a price” (1 Cor 7:23). While the Bible does not collapse personal identity into some notion of corporate identity, our individual lives nonetheless fit into God’s bigger plans for all of his people. Along with exploring the narrative identity of believers in Christ, this chapter continues the Bible’s emphasis on corporate identity; who I am derives from and sits underneath who we are. We begin with a brief consideration of the analogous role of memory and destiny in the identity of God’s ancient people in the Old Testament.
The fact that a shared memory and a common destiny leads to a new identity for God’s people is well and truly established in the Old Testament. When God redeemed his people from slavery in Egypt, that saving event was commemorated in Israel with the annual Passover celebration (Exod 12:12–16). In some Old Testament texts, recollections of the event of the exodus are recounted at “arm’s length.” For example Numbers 33:3 states that “the Israelites set out. . . . They marched out defiantly in full view of the Egyptians,” and so on. Commands to, “Remember the former things, those of long ago” (Isa 46:9) and to “remember the wonders he [the Lord] has done” (1 Chr 16:12) are scattered throughout the Old Testament.9
These events happened to other people. Yet remembering is strikingly personalized when later generations of Israelites are included in references to the saving events, as if they had experienced them personally. For example, the generation who followed those who died in the wilderness following the exodus are told: “Remember that you were slaves in Egypt and that the LORD your God brought you out of there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm” (Deut 5:15). Likewise, “be careful that you do not forget the LORD, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery” (Deut 6:12; see also 8:10–18). Technically, the Lord brought their parents and grandparents out of Egypt, not most of them. But that shared memory is of such consequence for the identity of the people of God that the events in question can rightly be said to have happened to them.
Michael Horton explains the significance of such shared memories for personal identity:
The present generation makes history their story. . . . History is not only rendered contemporary; it is internalized. One’s people’s history becomes one’s personal history. One looks out from the self to find out who one is meant to be. One does not discover one’s identity, and one certainly does not forge it oneself. . . . Instead, it is the consequence of what are presented as the acts of God. . . . Israel began to infer and to affirm her identity by telling a story.10
Just as importantly, the Israelites are also defined by the prospect of entering and inheriting the promised land of Canaan, their common and defining destiny. If their redemption from slavery in Egypt, the exodus, formed them as a people, the promise of God is always before them that they would “enter and possess the land I swore to their ancestors to give them” (Deut 10:11).
Who are you, and what is your story? What might an Israelite living in the wilderness following the rescue of God’s people from Egypt have said in response to these two questions? Alec Motyer’s suggested answer underscores the role of shared memory and defining destiny:
I was in a foreign land under the sentence of death, in bondage, but I took shelter under the blood of the lamb. Our mediator let us out, and we crossed over, and now we’re on our way to the Promised Land. We’re not there yet, but he’s given us his law to make us a community. And he’s given us the Tabernacle because you have to live by grace and forgiveness. And his presence is in our midst, and he’s going to stay with us until we get home.11
What then of our identity as those who are known by God as his children through faith in Jesus Christ? What shared memories relate to that identity? Of what story do we find ourselves a part?
Backstory is a literary term used in discussions of novels, films, and television dramas. It refers to those events previous to the start of the plot which are essential to understanding present circumstances and characters. The backstory of volume four of the Harry Potter stories is volumes one, two, and three. Some television series briefly bring viewers up to date with the essentials of the backstory before the new episode begins: “Previously on . . .”
“I can only answer the question ‘What am I to do?’ if I can answer the prior question ‘Of what story or stories do I find myself a part.’ ”
Alasdair MacIntyre12
The main point in the backstory of Christians is the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Just as the people of Israel were instructed to remember their deliverance in the exodus with the Passover, so Christians “remember” Jesus “until he comes” (1 Cor 11:26) by celebrating the Lord’s Supper. And remembering Jesus is an identity-confirming act, as Miroslav Volf explains:
In remembering Christ [at Communion], Christians remember themselves as part of a community of people who have died and risen together with Christ and whose core identity consists in this spiritual union with Christ. They remember Christ’s story not just as his story but also as their story.13
We will deal further with the role of the Lord’s Supper in the final chapter of this book and the way in which the Supper, along with baptism and other Christian practices, reinforces our identity as children of God in union with Christ. For now, three passages from 1 and 2 Corinthians and Romans underscore the significance of remembering Christ’s death for knowing who we are.
“Paul argues for a new identity in Christ, one defined historically in relation to Christ’s death and resurrection and eschatologically in relation to believers’ ultimate and completed destiny.”
Craig S. Keener14
In 1 Corinthians 7:21–24, Paul addresses slaves in the church of God in Corinth:
Were you a slave when you were called? Don’t let it trouble you—although if you can gain your freedom, do so. For the one who was a slave when called to faith in the Lord is the Lord’s freed person; similarly, the one who was free when called is Christ’s slave. You were bought at a price; do not become slaves of human beings. Brothers and sisters, each person, as responsible to God, should remain in the situation they were in when God called them.
“Were you a slave when God called you to faith in Christ?” Paul says, “Don’t let it trouble you.” The Greek verb “to trouble [someone]”15 is translated elsewhere in the New Testament as “pay no attention to” (Matt 22:16), “don’t you care” (Mark 4:38; Luke 10:40; John 10:13), and “show no concern” (Acts 18:17; 1 Cor 9:9). The Corinthian Christian slaves are not to worry about their lowly status and unenviable social identity.
Paul does not say that “slavery is nothing,” as he does of circumcision back in 1 Corinthians 7:19. And he encourages the Christian slaves to take the opportunity for freedom if it presents itself: “if you can gain your freedom, do so” (1 Cor 7:21).16 It is not that God is unmoved by the distress of his people. The God of all comfort comforts us in all our troubles (2 Cor 1:3–4). But our circumstances do not determine who we are before God. Even the lowest social status and the most menial and unrewarding of jobs do not define us.
In 1 Corinthians 7:22, Paul gives a reason to the slaves not to despair. He points to an identity that trumps being a slave and contains a clue as to how a believer in Christ can cope with a low social status: “For the one who was a slave when called to faith in the Lord is the Lord’s freed person; similarly, the one who was free when called is Christ’s slave.” God sees things differently than we see things, upside down in fact. Apparently, our place in society and how society regards us is the not the way he sees us. Whether slave or free, high social status or low—all believers in Christ belong to the Lord and live with him as our Lord and Master. As Richard Hays puts it, “all, regardless of worldly social status, are now under the authority of Christ.”17
However, the new identity as the Lord’s freed person/Christ’s slave is not based on something the individuals in question have done. On the contrary, it is something that the Lord Jesus Christ did for them that gives them their identity: “You were bought at a price” (1 Cor 7:23a). As a slave owner purchases a slave, Christ’s death has paid a ransom for their redemption. And on that basis, they belong to God. The implication is that to embrace one’s identity as the Lord Jesus Christ’s freed person and slave requires remembering something.
“Bought at a price” would have been especially poignant for slaves. Before God called them, the defining moment of their lives would have been becoming a slave and being bought by a human master. Or if they came from a family of slaves, they would have the shared memory of their father or mother or other ancestor becoming a slave. Paul says God gives them a new identity and a new memory that they share with all believers. They are Christ’s freed people, and they are to recall the costly death of Christ as having paid the price for their redemption.
As it turns out, the same memory is decisive for the identity of all believers and not just Christian slaves. In 1 Corinthians 6:19b–20a, Paul writes to all of the Christians in Corinth: “You are not your own; you were bought at a price.” And we see the same call to remember the death of Christ as paying the price of our redemption in other parts of the New Testament. The apostle Peter, for example, also reminds those to whom he writes of the shared memory of Christ’s death. Note too his reference to the defining destiny of Christian hope:
You know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your ancestors, but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect. He was chosen before the creation of the world, but was revealed in these last times for your sake. Through him you believe in God, who raised him from the dead and glorified him, and so your faith and hope are in God. (1 Pet 1:18–21)
We are to remember not only the death of Christ as securing our status as God’s people but also his forgiveness of our sins. The cross means that we are not prisoners of our past. The defining moment of many people’s lives is something they regret and of which they are deeply ashamed. The good news of the gospel is that our failures in life do not define us. Having been bought at a price, we remember Christ’s death as that which makes us who we are and gives us our new identity as those who belong to Christ.
However, not only do we remember Christ’s death as paying the price of our ransom from sin, Paul also insists that we remember Christ’s death as signifying our own death to sin:
Don’t you know that all of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life.
For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly also be united with him in a resurrection like his. For we know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body ruled by sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves to sin—because anyone who has died has been set free from sin.
Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him. For we know that since Christ was raised from the dead, he cannot die again; death no longer has mastery over him. The death he died, he died to sin once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God. (Rom 6:3–10)
All believers are included as participants in the story of Christ’s death and resurrection. And by dying with Christ, we regard ourselves as dead to living for pure self-interest. The selfishness of sin no longer has mastery over us. And the new life we live in Christ is one where we are set free to love God and others as we were intended to from the beginning.
A third text from Paul’s letters again shows the relevance to our lives in the present of remembering Christ’s suffering and death in the past:
We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body. (2 Cor 4:10–11)
The notion of “carrying around in our body the death of Jesus” is among Paul’s most unpalatable teachings. I doubt if it is anyone’s favorite memory verse, in anyone’s “promise box,” or on anyone’s refrigerator. Certainly “to carry” something in English can denote a constant and unpleasant experience: someone “carries” a burden, a virus, an injury, and so on. According to Paul, we carry around in our body the death of Jesus.
“As Christians, we locate and interpret our suffering within the narrative of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.”
John Swinton18
What could he mean? Paul seems to be referring to the meaning he attaches to the painful hardships of his life: He understands his experience of being “hard pressed on every side,” “perplexed,” and “struck down” (2 Cor 4:8) as sharing in Jesus’s sufferings.19 When we suffer, as the Phillips paraphrase of 2 Corinthians 4:10 says, “we experience something of the death of Jesus.” And that identification with Jesus’s death is necessary “so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body” (2 Cor 4:11).
To remember the death of Jesus when we suffer can be of some assistance when our lives don’t go according to plan. There are many layers to suffering, one of which is its seeming meaninglessness. It is common for Christian people who experience loneliness, pain, shame, exclusion, and any form of unjust suffering to find comfort and hope in the shame and pain of Jesus’s unjust crucifixion.
When my wife left me in the late 1990s, it helped me greatly to deal with feelings of rejection and abandonment to remember that on the cross Jesus had been rejected and abandoned by God, no less. It would be easy to respond that my suffering should not be compared to the suffering of Jesus. But that is exactly what Paul recommends.
We share the past suffering of Christ so that we have a part in the future glory of Christ. It is not that we earn our salvation by suffering. But in our suffering we have hope because Christ suffered and rose to life to give us life. By thinking of our own suffering in the light of the suffering of Jesus, we identify with him, and our life story follows the shape of his life story.
When we remember the suffering of Jesus in the midst of our own troubles, and carry around in our bodies the death of Jesus, some beneficial results ensue: “For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ” (2 Cor 1:5). As Paul states in Romans 5:3–4, rightly understood, our “suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope” (see also Jas 1:2–4). Our shared memory of the death of Jesus gives meaning to our suffering and instills in us a measure of comfort and hope.
It may sound odd, but destiny can be memory too. Not only can you remember the past, you can also remember the future. At the mundane level, you can remember that the sun will rise tomorrow morning at 6:30 am. More profoundly, our experiences in the past can color what we anticipate in the future. Miroslav Volf explains:
Traumatic memories are in part so disturbing because they project themselves into the future in an unwelcome way; they become a “prememory” of what will happen. Careful consideration reveals that the same is often true of experiences of reliability and love; trustworthiness and love experienced are trustworthiness and love anticipated.20
What does a defining destiny look like?
Prince Charles was born at Buckingham Palace on November 14, 1948, the first child of Princess Elizabeth, Duchess of Edinburgh, and Philip, Duke of Edinburgh. When Charles was three, his mother’s accession as Queen Elizabeth II immediately made him the heir apparent to the seven countries over which she reigned. His whole life has been lived in anticipation of being crowned King Charles III.
Charles’ destiny has defined him. It has affected everything from his education, his involvement in the military, his working life, his choice of marriage partners, and his religious affiliation to his tastes in architecture, hobbies, and sports. Obviously other factors play into the mix, including his personality, life experiences, opportunities, and the choices he has made. But there is no doubt that Charles would have led a very different life had he not been the Prince of Wales, the heir apparent.
As believers in Christ, we remember our past deliverance at the cross and our future deliverance by the same faithful God. And this destiny shapes our identity.
Central to our status as God’s children is the fact that we are heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ (see chapter nine). Being known by God as his children puts us in line for an “inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and of God” (Eph 5:5): “Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ” (Rom 8:17a). And this expectation of a great inheritance impacts how we live today. If our destiny is “light,” we are, in Paul’s words, to “put aside the deeds of darkness and put on the armor of light” (Rom 13:12). If our destiny is to live in the presence of the God of love, we are to be loving in the present.
My daughter Elizabeth was born in Dallas, Texas, when I was a student there. She was granted American citizenship by birth and Australian citizenship by descent. The same goes for my daughter Emily, who was born in Cambridge, England, and is a citizen of both the United Kingdom and Australia. Elizabeth and Emily live in one place, but belong to two places.
Believers in Christ also enjoy the benefits and responsibilities of dual citizenship. We belong to this world and the next. It is not just that we believe we will belong to heaven; we do so now. In that sense our destiny has already taken hold. And if this is true, it clearly has implications for who we are now and how we are to live. As citizens of heaven, we are to “conduct [ourselves] in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ” (Phil 1:27).
“Christians believe the lifespan of each of us is not the full running length; it is a kind of preview. They believe that the human injustice that infects everything in the world will find an ultimate answer in God’s justice. They believe that the groanings of an afflicted creation will be answered when God recreates the world in glory. These beliefs change what a person thinks, the way they live, who they are.”
John Dickson21
“In Christian thinking generally, present and future overlap and interlock in various confusing ways.”
N. T. Wright22
A story arc is the overall narrative in episodic storytelling media such as television or comic books. On a television series, for example, the story arc is the governing trajectory that unfolds over many episodes. All the episodes are moving towards a death, or a wedding, or a car crash, or some other climax that has been in the mind of the scriptwriters from the beginning. And when you watch one episode, even if in one sense it can stand on its own, it forms part of a larger narrative that is told over the whole series. The things that happen in the individual episodes take on full significance only when you know the story arc to which they contribute. Remembering your story arc is key to the new identity of Christians as children of God known by him.
The most unexpected twist in the story of Christian hope is the idea that the Christian’s story arc is the same as that of the rest of creation. In Romans 8:19–21, Paul believes that not only are Christians looking forward to the final consummation, but also “the creation waits in eager expectation.” What is it waiting for? The creation is waiting for the same thing believers are waiting for: “for the children of God to be revealed.” Paul explains, as best he can:
For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God. (Rom 8:20–21)
Things are not the way they’re supposed to be. This is true of each of us, in all our well-intentioned and sometimes ill-intentioned and messy lives. It’s also true of all of us together in the communities in which we live and work. And it’s true of whole countries. Even the world itself, Paul reckons, feels like it has been “subjected to frustration . . . [and wants to be] liberated from its bondage.” Disobedience to God has brought death to us all. The good news is that God intends to reverse this tragedy. Raising Jesus from the dead was the first step in the process.
Biblical Theology = Backstory + Story Arc
The identity of believers in Christ is bound not only to a shared memory of Christ’s death but also to a defining destiny with the risen Christ. The glorious day of his appearing will not only be a revelation of who he is as the Son of God, but also of who we are as God’s children. The following subsections explore five passages that make this point and show what difference it makes to who we are in the present.
Some of the members of the church of God in Corinth would have answered the question of personal identity in terms of their marital status: I am married; I am single; I am engaged; I am widowed; I am divorced. Others might have pointed to their personality or temperament: I am sad; I am happy. Still others might have thought of their possessions: I am wealthy; I am poor. In a startling passage, complete with poetic rhythm and puzzling paradoxical content, Paul urges believers in Christ not to define themselves in these ways:
What I mean, brothers and sisters, is that the time is short. From now on those who have wives should live as if they do not; those who mourn, as if they did not; those who are happy, as if they were not; those who buy something, as if it were not theirs to keep; those who use the things of the world, as if not engrossed in them. For this world in its present form is passing away. (1 Cor 7:29–31)
What does Paul mean by “the time is short” (v. 29)? What “time” is he referring to? The time until what? The last part of verse 31 provides the answer: “this world in its present form is passing away.” Evidently, Paul is referring to the time remaining until the return of Christ and the end of all things (see also 1 Cor 1:7–8).
Paul is not just talking about the quantity of time left but also about the quality of time.23 The fact that the end is coming affects the character of the time we have left. Time is subjectively perceived. Since time cannot be directly perceived, it must be reconstructed by the brain. Our perception of time differs from other senses by virtue of having no clear raw input, such as photons in the case of visual perception or sound waves in the case of hearing. The way we talk about time reflects this: Time flies when you’re having fun, and time drags in the dentist’s chair. “The time is short” refers to a certain type of time.
How does an exciting future event take the edge off the disappointment of missing out on something good in the present?
Some years ago I visited the US to teach an intensive course at a seminary in Boston. I stayed with my good friends Roy and Marcelle Ciampa, and after a long day in the classroom I was keen to eat at the Agawam Diner, a Ciampa family tradition. Clam chowder and coconut cream pie were two Bostonian specialties I was eagerly anticipating. The Diner was an American experience I did not want to miss out on.
But when Roy picked me up, he said to me that the time was short, and we had to miss the meal at the Agawam as he had secured tickets to the baseball game at Boston’s famous Fen-way Park. The Red Sox were playing to a packed house, as they had been at every game for seven years in a row.
The future had squashed the present. We were hard pressed for time. In the light of that future, our priorities in the present had changed. The meal at the Agawam Diner would not happen. But my disappointment was overshadowed by the joy of the prospect of attending the game. (The Red Sox won in the bottom of the ninth.)
So what sort of time is Paul referring to? The key phrase literally reads, “the time has been compressed” or “gathered in.”24 The idea is that the future is pressing in on the present. To use our idiom, Paul is saying that, in view of the end of the world, Christians are “hard pressed for time.” This shortness of time radically affects the way believers are to think about their lives in the here and now; knowing we are in the end times and that this world will be brought to a conclusion ought to condition how we think about all of our activities in the meantime.
How should we live in the light of the fact that the time is short? The most important example in the context of 1 Corinthians 7 that Paul considers is being married rather than single: “From now on those who have wives should live as if they do not” (1 Cor 7:29b). Paul is not suggesting that those who are married should literally live as if they are not. In 1 Corinthians 7:2–6, he tells those who are married in no uncertain terms to have sex: “The husband should fulfill his marital duty to his wife, and likewise the wife to her husband. . . . Do not deprive each other” (7:3, 5)! Instead, Paul downgrades the significance of being married in the light of something of much greater significance.
Paul reasons that since believers know where the world is headed, we are not to allow the world to dictate our existence. The primary purpose of 1 Corinthians 7:29–31 is to set the question of whether to marry or not in proper proportion and perspective. The prospect of a new heaven and new earth takes the edge off prevailing troubles on this earth and may even enable a believer to endure a marital or social status they consider unsatisfying or undesirable and still glorify God within it. According to Paul, being married or not is not central to our identity as Christians. Neither is being sad or happy or having certain possessions. Paul is not disparaging a full-blooded engagement with the world (see also 1 Cor 5:10b), but wants it to be tempered by a sober assessment of life’s ups and downs in the light of something that eclipses them.
What is critical in Paul’s radical reappraisal of marital status, personality, and possessions in 1 Corinthians 7:29–31 as markers of personal identity is that he points to the future rather than the past: our defining destiny relativizes the various identity markers in question. We are hard pressed for time as the glorious climax of world history and of our lives approaches, which makes other things in the present seem less important.
Ephesians 1:13–14 contains several descriptions of Christian identity:
And you also were included in Christ when you heard the message of truth, the gospel of your salvation. When you believed, you were marked in him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit, who is a deposit guaranteeing our inheritance until the redemption of those who are God’s possession—to the praise of his glory.
Some of the ways in which Christians are described in this text look back to the past, namely, the believers’ conversion: they are those who are now in Christ, having heard and believed the gospel. Other ways indicate a look to the future, but still with some sense of who Christians are in the present: they are also those who are sealed by the promised Holy Spirit, a sign that they belong to God and are guaranteed an inheritance as his children. It is to this future-oriented identity that we are concerned in this section.
The description of the Holy Spirit as one who was “promised” is a reference to the coming of the Spirit as the fulfillment of prophecy. Joel 2:28, a text quoted in Acts 2 and alluded to in 1 Corinthians 12, contains the promise of God: “And afterward, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophecy.”25
The Holy Spirit is also called “a deposit guaranteeing our inheritance” in Ephesians 1:14. The Greek word “deposit,” arrabōn, signifies a “down payment” (HCSB) or “pledge (NRSV) and refers to a mark denoting ownership. It was a commercial term for the purchase of something by paying a first installment. Being indwelt by the Spirit indicates that we belong to God, which means we have an inheritance in the age to come and that we are also God’s inheritance in the age to come.26 Peter O’Brien states: “The Spirit received is the first installment and guarantee of the inheritance in the age to come that awaits God’s sons and daughters” (Eph 1:5).27
The Spirit is also a “seal,” marking us out for a glorious future. Paul’s statements elsewhere identify the Spirit as the first course, so to speak, of the heavenly banquet that awaits us:
And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with whom you were sealed for the day of redemption. (Eph 4:30)
He anointed us, set his seal of ownership on us, and put his Spirit in our hearts as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come. (2 Cor 1:21–22)
Two points arise from Ephesians 1:13–14 for a biblical theology of personal identity. First, it is not just that we look forward to a glorious future with God; we have a taste and guarantee of it now. And that aspect of our identity comes from “outwith” us, to use a word from Scottish English; but at the same time it comes to reside within us—the promised Holy Spirit indwells us. Second, as those whose future is sealed and inheritance guaranteed, our glorious future impacts who we are now and how we live in the present.
Another passage in Paul’s letters that connects our identity to our destiny as those connected to Jesus Christ is Romans 13:11–14:
And do this, understanding the present time: The hour has already come for you to wake up from your slumber, because our salvation is nearer now than when we first believed. The night is nearly over; the day is almost here. So let us put aside the deeds of darkness and put on the armor of light. Let us behave decently, as in the daytime, not in carousing and drunkenness, not in sexual immorality and debauchery, not in dissension and jealousy. Rather, clothe yourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ, and do not think about how to gratify the desires of the flesh.
Paul urges believers in Rome to behave in ways that are consistent with their new identity as those who belong to the age to come. Using the familiar biblical imagery of light and darkness, “the present time” in which we live is compared to nighttime, and the time of future salvation is likened to “the daytime.” The NLT renders v. 13: “Because we belong to the day, we must live decent lives for all to see.”
A fundamental question for a biblical approach to personal identity is this: What time is it? According to Paul, it is close to dawn: “The night is nearly over; the day is almost here” (Rom 13:12). As Paul says in 1 Corinthians 7:29–31 (see above), we are hard pressed for time. Colin Kruse explains the significance of “the present time” in Romans:
The “present time” for Paul is the time ushered in by the first advent of Jesus Christ. So in 3:25–26, speaking of God presenting Christ as the sacrifice of atonement, he declares, “he did it to demonstrate his righteousness at the present time, so as to be just and the one who justifies those who have faith in Jesus”. Similarly, in 5:6 he asserts, “You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly”. In 2 Corinthians 6:2 he adds that the present time is the day of salvation: “For he says, ‘In the time of my favor I heard you, and in the day of salvation I helped you’. I tell you, now is the time of God’s favor, now is the day of salvation.”28
We belong to the day
To the day that is to come
When the night falls away
And our Saviour will return
For the glory of the King is in our hearts
On that day we will be seen for what we are
We belong to the day
Let us journey in the light
Put on faith, put on love
As our armour for the fight
And the promise of salvation in our eyes
On that day the proud will fall, the faithful rise
We belong to the day
We were bought with Jesus’s blood
Soon he comes as the judge
In the power of his word
We must tell of his salvation while we wait
For the day when Jesus comes will be too late
Michael Morrow29
But as decisive as the present time is for God’s plan of salvation, the coming day of salvation is meant to shape our behavior in the present: “Believers, even though for the present they still live in the ‘night,’ must live as people of the ‘day.’ ”30 Consistent with the metaphor, four of the shameful deeds of the darkness which are unsuitable to daytime people—carousing, drunkenness, sexual immorality, debauchery (Rom 13:13)—are typically done in the nighttime. The next two vices, dissension and jealousy, are concerns that Paul has in particular for the house churches in Rome.31
The Bible uses a number of strategies to encourage believers to resist temptation to sin and to motivate them to godliness. These include threats and warnings, appeals to God’s character, and the work of the Spirit in our lives. The Bible also reminds us that we live under the lordship of Christ and must therefore imitate both God and Christ. Here in Romans 13:11–14, the appeal is to our new identity based on our defining destiny. We are to behave, “as in the daytime,”32 as those who belong to the day, and to dress appropriately: “clothe yourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ.” Once again, Jesus Christ is critical for Christian identity and conduct.
Trade apprentices are defined by their future and are expected increasingly to conform to that identity in the present. A carpentry apprenticeship can take up to four years to complete, and you cannot claim the title of “carpenter” until you have finished the entire course and gained the requisite experience. But you are meant to start, however imperfectly, behaving like a carpenter from the beginning. When my son William began his carpentry apprenticeship, the goal of completing the course and gaining the qualification defined him as he learnt his trade. His boss modeled best practices in the industry, and slowly but surely William became like him until he graduated as a fully qualified carpenter. William’s anticipated future shaped his behavior and gave him an identity in the present.
With 1 John 3:1–3, we venture beyond Paul’s letters and yet find the same themes unmistakably on display: our identity as God’s children, our likeness to Christ, the decisive nature of Christ’s appearing for our own identity, and the practical implications for our lives here and now:
See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him. Dear friends, now we are children of God, and what we will be has not yet been made known. But we know that when Christ appears, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is. All who have this hope in him purify themselves, just as he is pure. (1 John 3:1–3)
The passage puts great emphasis on the identity of those who believe in Jesus as God’s children. Numerous elements make this clear:
1. The great love lavished on us is from “the Father”—a description of God that is underlined by its delay in the Greek until the end of the clause; we might translate literally: “See what great love he has given us—the Father!”
2. We are called “children of God” twice (vv. 1 and 2);
3. We are called children of God by the Father.33
4. The Greek word translated “Dear friends” (v. 2), agapētos, means “one who is dearly loved, dear, beloved, prized, valued . . . indicating a close relationship, esp. that between parent and child.”34
5. Being like Christ (v. 2) is to share the family likeness; 1 John calls Jesus God’s Son several times (e.g., 3:8; 4:15), and this is the letter’s favorite way of referring to Jesus.
The identity as “God’s children” is our true identity: “And that is what we are!” (1 John 3:1). It is who we are presently: “Now we are the children of God” (v. 2). However, it is also our destiny: “What we will be has not yet been made known. But we know that when Christ appears, we shall be like him” (v. 2).
Our status as God’s children is a reality in the present, but we will be blown away when it is fully revealed. John Calvin is right to compare the sentiment here with Colossians 3:3–4 (see at the beginning of this chapter): “John teaches the same thing with Paul, in Col 3:3, 4, where he says, ‘Your life is hid with Christ in God: when Christ, who is your life, shall appear, then shall ye also appear with him in glory.’ ”35 The present implications for conduct which fits with our identity as God’s children is also made explicit in 1 John 3:3: “All who have this hope in him purify themselves, just as he is pure.”
How will our final transformation into God’s children come about? John says that “we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is” (1 John 3:2). Seeing the Son of God face to face results in becoming like Christ; we will be mature children of God like our older brother.
Significantly, the apostle John’s explanation here summons to mind the apostle Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 13:1236 : “For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.” We will see, or know, the Son of God as he really is, his essential character, just as he has always seen and known us.
Christians around the world affirm their faith on a regular basis using the ancient Apostles’ Creed. It begins: “I believe in God, the Father almighty, Creator of heaven and earth. I believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord.” It closes with the words: “I believe in the Holy Spirit . . . the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting. Amen.”37 Most Christians today are more at home thinking about eternal life than the resurrection of the body.
Who am I if death is my ultimate destiny? What would life look like if it were? In Isaiah 22:13, the prophet depicts the reaction of the inhabitants of Jerusalem when the city is under siege. With the ruthless Assyrians at the door, they are facing the grim prospect of their annihilation. With such a destiny, they decide to “party like there is no tomorrow”: “Let us eat and drink . . . for tomorrow we die!” Paul quotes this text in 1 Corinthians 15:32 to point to the futility of life without the direction and motivation given by the resurrection of Jesus.
There are, of course, exceptions. Unbelievers can live lives that are not wasteful and self-indulgent. But it is not just Christians who think life without the hope of resurrection lacks purpose. Some philosophers agree. Existentialism, for instance, stresses human individuality and freedom and is deeply pessimistic about life in a meaningless world. Life under the shadow of death can seem pointless.
“Materialist atheism says we are just a collection of chemicals. It has no answer whatsoever to the question of how we should be capable of love or heroism or poetry if we are simply animated pieces of meat. The Resurrection, which proclaims that matter and spirit are mysteriously conjoined, is the ultimate key to who we are. It confronts us with an extraordinarily haunting story. J. S. Bach believed the story, and set it to music. Most of the greatest writers and thinkers of the past 1,500 years have believed it. But an even stronger argument is the way that Christian faith transforms individual lives—the lives of the men and women with whom you mingle on a daily basis, the man, woman or child next to you in church tomorrow morning.”
A. N. Wilson38
There are three types of cars on display at a motor show: (1) Concept cars—peculiar vehicles that will never be built that are used to trial innovative features; (2) Cars for sale; and (3) Prototypes—new models, not yet for sale, but soon to be produced in large numbers. Jesus Christ is the prototype of a new humanity, the first cab off the rack. He is the last Adam, a new and vastly superior model to end all models. He is the first one off the production line with the promise of many more to come.
At the heart of the Christian’s hope is the resurrection from the dead. The New Testament connects this destiny inextricably to that of Jesus Christ who was raised from the dead: “For if we have been united with [Christ] in a death like his, we will certainly also be united with him in a resurrection like his” (Rom 6:5). It is this anticipated resurrection life, our defining destiny, that gives our lives an identity in the present.
So how does the resurrection of Christ relate to the future of believers in Christ? Paul’s great exposition of the meaning of the resurrection of Christ in 1 Corinthians 15 climaxes with the words: “Death has been swallowed up in victory.” “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” (1 Cor 15:54b–55). Through the resurrection of Jesus Christ, death has lost its sting. By his resurrection Jesus destroyed death and brought “life and immortality to light” (2 Tim 1:10).
Kevin Vanhoozer explains the significance of the resurrection of Jesus for human identity:
Human destiny—the full flowering of the image of God—has already been realized in Jesus’s resurrection. Only through Jesus Christ do the general concepts of human nature and destiny, as well as of God and the Logos, acquire their true content. In the historical life of Jesus, the eternal relation of the Son to the Father takes human shape. Theological anthropology understands the human creature neither from its past nor its present, but above all from the perspective of its future destiny—fellowship with God—manifested by Christ. Jesus is the eschatological man who, as the last Adam, reveals the true nature and meaning of the first.39
According to the Bible, memory is critical for personal identity. Our memories form us, and remembering our destiny defines us. People remember significant life events and their hopes for the future, and such memories play a big part in shaping who they are. But such formative memories go beyond the personal and individual, reaching back to family and even national histories.
All of this is especially true for the identity of Christians. It is not that our personal experiences and memories don’t matter. But they appear in an entirely different light when we remember that our lives are part of a much bigger story. Michael Horton puts it well:
The “self”—understood as an autonomous individual—does not exist, but is already bound up with tradition, history, and community. . . . In the process of summoning us, the covenant Lord renarrates our lives, calling us away from our dead-end plots and casting us in his unfolding drama.40
Believers in Christ look back and internalize the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, remembering them as events that change who we are today and who we will be in the future. Christians see their life story fitting into and mirroring the life story of Jesus Christ. This is certainly what Dietrich Bonhoeffer believed:
It is in fact more important for us to know what God did to Israel and in God’s Son Jesus Christ, than to discover what God intends for us today. The fact that Jesus Christ died is more important than the fact that I will die. . . . I find salvation not in my life story, but only in the story of Jesus Christ.41
Paul said something similar when he claimed that “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me” (Gal 2:20a). The story of Jesus Christ forms the template of our own life stories by supplying the essential backstory and critical story arc.
This chapter opened with the questions: Who are you, and what is your story? How might a Christian answer?42 Note the role of memory and destiny in the formation of personal identity in the following answer:
I was in slavery to sin under the sentence of death, but God redeemed me and set me free through the death of his Son Jesus Christ. When Christ died, I also died and was buried along with him, putting an end to a futile life of self-centered living. I rose from the dead with Christ to a new life in him. I now carry around in my body the death of Jesus, which brings me comfort during my afflictions in the present and bright hope for the future. I am now hard pressed for time in the light of the glorious return of Christ, which puts my present circumstances, both my successes and disappointments, in the shade. I am sealed for the day of final redemption. In fact, I belong to that day. Along with all of creation, I groan awaiting the gift of my resurrection body and the moment when my true identity as God’s child will be revealed when the Son of God appears.
To conclude part two, it is worth noting that this narrative identity relates directly to the major theme of this book, that of being known by God. Colossians 3:3–4, which we quoted near the beginning of this chapter, is Paul’s most profound explanation of the notion that Christ is our life story and his most direct assertion that memory and destiny define identity. In these verses, Paul also declares that our life is hidden with Christ in God.
For you died [our shared memory], and your life is now hidden with Christ in God [we are known by God]. When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you also will appear with him in glory [our defining destiny]. (Col 3:3–4)
The Christian’s personal identity follows the pattern of Christ’s representative life because we are known by God.
1. How does your family and your family’s history influence your sense of identity? Are there any “second hand memories” which affect your personal narrative? Are these good or bad memories?
2. Have you allowed a difficult past to become a “prememory” that negatively influences your expectations of the future? Does defining your narrative identity in terms of the life of Christ help you to have a different perspective on both your life and destiny?
3. Our circumstances do not determine who we are before God. How might this change your perspective on your current social status or the material possessions you own?
4. How does remembering the death of Jesus when we suffer help us when our lives don’t go according to plan?
1. Timothy Keller, The Reason for God: Belief in an Age of Skepticism (New York: Penguin: 2008), 15.
2. Bruce K. Waltke, An Old Testament Theology: An Exegetical, Canonical, andThematic Approach(Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2007), 13.
3. Marilynne Robinson, The Givenness of Things: Essays (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2015), 154.
4. Gary Saul Morson, Narrative and Freedom: The Shadows of Time (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994), 38, emphasis added.
5. James D. G. Dunn, The Epistle to the Galatians, BNTC (London: Continuum, 1993), 241.
6. Richard Bauckham, The Bible in the Contemporary World: Hermeneutical Ventures (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2015), 138–39.
7. The notion that Christ is our life has profound implications for our character and conduct, which the following verse in Colossians 3 makes clear: “Put to death, therefore, whatever belongs to your earthly nature: sexual immorality, impurity, lust, evil desires and greed, which is idolatry” (Col 3:5). See chapter fourteen, “Direction.”
8. N. T. Wright, The Early Christian Letters for Everyone: James, Peter, John, and Judah (London: SPCK, 2011), 65.
9. See also Deut 4:9: “Only be careful, and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them fade from your heart as long as you live. Teach them to your children and to their children after them.”
10. Michael Horton, The Christian Faith: A Systematic Theology for Pilgrims on the Way (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2011), 86–87.
11. Cited by Timothy Keller in the forward of J. Alec Motyer, A Christian’s Pocket Guide to Loving the Old Testament (Fearn, Scotland: Christian Focus, 2015), x.
12. Alasdair MacIntyre, After Virtue: A Study in Moral Theory (Notre Dame, IN: Notre Dame University Press, 1981), 216.
13. Miroslav Volf, The End of Memory: Remembering Rightly in a Violent World (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006), 98–99.
14. Craig S. Keener, The Mind of the Spirit: Paul’s Approach to Transformed Thinking (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2016), 53.
15. Greek melei, “be a source of concern” (BDAG 626–27).
16. Roy E. Ciampa and Brian S. Rosner, The First Letter to the Corinthians, PNTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), 320.
17. Richard B. Hays, First Corinthians, Interpretation (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1997), 125.
18. John Swinton, Raging with Compassion: Pastoral Responses to the Problem of Evil (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007), 112.
19. Several features of the passage underscore the connection between the sufferings of Paul and Christ. For example, the Greek verb to “be given over,” paradidōmi, is used for the “giving over” of Jesus to death (see Rom 4:25; 8:32; 1 Cor 11:23). Paul says that he is “always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake” (2 Cor 4:11) just as Jesus was “delivered over to death for our sins” (Rom 4:25). Also, the three uses of the simple name “Jesus” in 2 Cor 4:10–11 draws attention to the earthly life of Christ.
20. Volf, End of Memory, 100.
21. John Dickson, A Doubter’s Guide to the Bible: Inside History’s Bestseller for Believers and Skeptics (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2014), 210. Emphasis added.
22. N. T. Wright, Revelation for Everyone (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2011), 75.
23. In other parts of 1 Corinthians, Paul talks to the Corinthians about his own future plans to visit them (4:19; 11:34; 16:5–8) and their part in Paul’s relief work among churches in Judea (16:1–4; see also 2 Cor 8–9), plans which could take a couple of years to complete.
24. Greek perfect passive participle of sustellō.
25. See “the promised Holy Spirit” in Acts 2:33.
26. The NLT of Eph 1:14 states: “The Spirit is God’s guarantee that he will give us the inheritance he promised and that he has purchased us to be his own people.”
27. Peter T. O’Brien, The Letter to the Ephesians, PNTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999), 120.
28. Colin G. Kruse, Paul’s Letter to the Romans, PNTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2012), 503. Emphasis original.
29. Garage Hymnal, “We Belong to the Day,” Bring on the Day (Sydney: Michael Morrow, 2006). Lyrics used with permission.
30. Kruse, Paul’s Letter to the Romans, 505.
31. See Brian Rosner, “What to Do When Christians Differ: Disputable Matters in Romans 14:1–15:7,” in Mending a Fractured Church, ed. Michael F. Bird and Brian S. Rosner (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2015), 56–77.
32. Ben Witherington III and Darlene Hyatt state, “Christians are to walk properly as in the day. Thus, in some sense, the eschatological day or its light is already at hand, for Christians can walk in it. Hōs here means ‘as is actually the case.’ Believers are already standing under the sign of a new day” (Paul’s Letter to the Romans: A Socio-rhetorical Commentary [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004], 317).
33. “The implied agent of the passive form [of the Greek verb “to call” in v. 1] is ‘the Father’ ” (C. Haas, Marinus de Jonge, and J. L. Swellengrebel, A Translator’s Handbook on the Letters of John [New York: United Bible Societies, 1994], 81).
34. BDAG 7 (emphasis original).
35. John Calvin and John Owen, Commentaries on the Catholic Epistles (Bellingham, WA: Logos Bible Software, 2010), 205.
36. Noted in Haas, de Jonge, and Swellengrebel, A Translator’s Handbook on the Letters of John, 81.
37. A Prayer Book for Australia (Sydney: Broughton, 1999), 12, emphasis added.
38. A. N. Wilson, “Religion of Hatred,” Mail Online, April 10, 2009, http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1169145/Religionhatred-Why-longer-cowed-secular-zealots.html. Emphasis added. Wilson is an English author. Among his biographies are books about Leo Tolstoy, C. S. Lewis, John Milton, and Sir Walter Scott. For much of his adult life, Wilson was not a believer. In fact in his biography of Jesus, Wilson tried to show that Jesus was no more than a failed messianic prophet. However in recent years, he changed his mind. At the heart of his new-found faith is the resurrection of Jesus from the dead, which he believes is “the ultimate key to who we are.”
39. Kevin Vanhoozer, “Human Being, Individual and Social,” in The Cambridge Companion to Christian Doctrine, ed. Colin E. Gunton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 173. Emphasis added.
40. Horton, The Christian Faith, 86. Emphasis added.
41. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996), 62.
42. See Alec Motyer’s suggested answer to this question on behalf of an Israelite at the beginning of this chapter.