Domestic fires, sacrifices, or large conflagrations produced ashes (1 Kings 20:38 KJV; 2 Kings 23:4; Job 2:8; Ps. 147:16). Ashes had physical and figurative significance. With dust and sackcloth, ashes were placed on the head and body to signify mourning and grief (2 Sam. 13:19; Job 2:8), personal or national (Esther 4:3; Isa. 58:5), or repentance (Jon. 3:6; Matt. 11:21). Such grief was associated with prayer and fasting.

Figuratively, persons or things could be viewed as worthless through the imagery of ashes (Isa. 44:20), and ashes could communicate destruction and human mortality when used with dust (Gen. 18:27; Job 30:19; Ezek. 27:30; Mal. 3:19; see also Sir. 10:9; 17:32). Ashes of the red heifer were special and used for ritual cleansing (Num. 19:9–10, 17–19).

(1) Usually occurs in English Bibles as a translation of a Hebrew word (beriach) that can refer either to part of the frame of a structure such as the tabernacle (Exod. 26:28; 36:33 [NIV: “crossbar”]) or to a beam used to lock a gate in place (e.g., Judg. 16:3; Job 38:10; Ps. 147:13). Gate bars were made sometimes of wood (Nah. 3:13) and sometimes of metal (1 Kings 4:13; Ps. 107:16; Isa. 45:2). (2) Bar is Aramaic for “son.” When it appears in names, often in a hyphenated or combined form, it means “son of”; for example, Acts 4:36 explains that “Barnabas” means “son of encouragement.”

Clouds and theophany. The storm god Baal occupied a central place in Canaanite religion, and so a cloud, especially a rain cloud, was considered a prominent manifestation of the divine presence. In Ugaritic texts Baal is described as the “rider on the cloud.”

The OT depicts the God of Israel in similar terms, as riding on a cloud (Judg. 5:4; Isa. 19:1; Pss. 18:11–12; 68:4; 104:3), and as the creator and sender of clouds: “Ask rain from the Lord in the season of the spring rain; from the Lord who makes the storm clouds, and he will give them showers of rain, to everyone the vegetation in the field” (Zech. 10:1 ESV [see also 1 Kings 18:44; Pss. 135:7; 147:8; Prov. 8:28; Isa. 5:6; Jer. 10:13]). Divine judgment is pictured as a dark storm (Isa. 30:30; Lam. 2:1; Nah. 1:3; Zech. 1:15). In his taunt against the king of Babylon, Isaiah attributes to the king the arrogant intention of ascending “above the tops of the clouds,” that is, to the dwelling place of God (Isa. 14:14).

At several crucial points God manifested his presence among the Israelites in the form of a cloud: in the wilderness (the “pillar of cloud” of Exod. 13:21 and elsewhere), on Mount Sinai (Exod. 19:9; 24:15), in the tabernacle (Exod. 40:34), in the temple at Jerusalem (1 Kings 8:10), and frequently in the visions of Ezekiel (e.g., Ezek. 1:4; 10:3).

The NT continues the imagery of the cloud as a manifestation of divine presence in the story of the transfiguration (Matt. 17:5; Mark 9:7; Luke 9:36), and also in depictions of Jesus as a cloud-rider in Matt. 26:64; Rev. 14:14 (see Dan. 7:13). Jesus was hidden by a cloud when he ascended (Acts 1:9), and believers will be caught up by clouds at his return (1 Thess. 4:17; Rev. 11:12).

Clouds in nature. A handful of biblical texts describe clouds appearing in the land of Israel from the west, from the Mediterranean Sea (1 Kings 18:14; Luke 12:54).

Clouds stand for the highest point in the sky (Job 35:5; Jer. 51:9). They were understood to release their rain when full (Eccles. 11:3). Clouds are associated with rainbows (Gen. 9:13; Rev. 10:1).

A transliteration of the Hebrew phrase halelu yah. The first word is an imperative form of the verb hallal, which means “to praise.” The second word is a derivation of the name of God, “Yahweh,” typically translated as “Lord,” and is the object of the verb. Thus, “hallelujah” means “praise the Lord.” This phrase has become idiomatic for Christian communities, so that the Hebrew pronunciation of “hallelujah” and its use as an exclamation of praise have been preserved. The phrase occurs twenty-four times in the Psalms, beginning at Ps. 104:35, and appears the most frequently in the last five psalms (Pss. 146–150).

The KJV translates the Hebrew word kepor as “hoarfrost” and “hoary frost,” referring to its grayish white color (Exod. 16:14; Job 38:29; Ps. 147:16 [NIV: “frost”]).

In the subtropical climate of Israel, ice inspired both fear and wonder. When God hurls bits of ice from heaven (i.e., hail), the psalmist asks, “Who can withstand his icy blast?” (Ps. 147:17), and the Hebrew term qerakh, also translated as “cold” or “frost,” is associated with the discomfort of nighttime exposure (Gen. 31:40; Jer. 36:30). However, the term is also used to describe the sparkling beauty of the expanse above the living creatures in Ezekiel’s vision of God (Ezek. 1:22). Like other meteorological occurrences, such as rain (Jer. 14:22) and wind (Amos 4:13), ice is considered the work of God (Job 37:10; 38:29).

The quality of having no bounds or restraints. The theological and biblical concept of the infinite is of practical importance rather than being merely an abstract statement. “God is infinite” speaks of God’s omnipotence, omniscience, and omnipresence, not of a numerical conception of God’s size. Although the word “infinite” does not occur in the NIV, the concept of an infinite God is undisputed. Psalm 147:5 refers to God’s knowledge as having “no limit,” as does Heb. 4:13. Additionally, biblical writers sometimes exaggerate and describe large numbers or quantities as infinite for dramatic effect (e.g., “endless sins” [Job 22:5]).

Excepting the table legs in Exod. 25:26, legs in the Bible belong to animals, people, statues, or angelic creatures. God gives instructions for the ceremonial dispensation of animal legs (Exod. 12:9; Lev. 1:9, 13; 4:11; 8:21; 9:14) or their role in distinguishing clean from unclean animals (Lev. 11:21–23). Leg meat is a choice portion for guests (1 Sam. 9:22–24). The legs of humans, statues, or angels epitomize strength (1 Sam. 17:6; Ps. 147:10; Dan. 2:33; 10:6; Rev. 10:1), weakness (Deut. 28:35; Prov. 26:7; Dan. 5:6; Hab. 3:16), immodesty (Isa. 47:2), or sensuality (Song 5:15; 7:1). Roman soldiers broke the legs of people being crucified in order to hasten their death (John 19:31–33).

The word “Gentiles” is often used to translate words meaning “nations” or “peoples.” It has a Latin etymology from gens, meaning “clan” or “family” and, eventually, “race” or “people.” The Greek word genos (“race, kind”) has a close relationship. In the Bible it loosely refers to nations or peoples other than Israel. English Bibles often translate it as “nations,” “peoples,” or “races.”

Old Testament

In general, within the OT, Gentiles are not God’s people. God chose Israel to be his people, not other nations (Deut. 7:6–8; 10:15; 26:18–19). Israelite ancestry determines membership in the covenant people. Some writings thus forbid Gentiles from becoming part of God’s people (Ezra 9–10; Neh. 13).

The OT more commonly envisions Gentiles experiencing covenant blessing through Israel if they functionally become Israelites by keeping the law, including the parts we understand as ceremonial-ritual law. The law is that special life-giving and regulating aspect of the covenant that God revealed to Israel, which defines Israel (Lev. 18:1–5; 20:22–26; Deut. 4:1–8, 32–40; 6:24–25; 8:1–6; 10:12–11:32; 30:11–20; Josh. 1:7–9; Neh. 9:29; Pss. 119; 147:19–20; Ezek. 20:9–13, 21).

Such law/Israel-centered conditions for Gentiles relate to a broader OT understanding: God will reach and restore the world through Israel, the locus of his saving activity. God will bless the nations in and through Abraham’s descendants, Israel (Gen. 12:1–3; 17:4–6; 22:18; 26:4; 28:14). This covenant specifically involves keeping the law (e.g., circumcision [Gen. 17:9–14]). Some passages depict this happening through the nations being subject to Israel (Gen. 49:8–12; Num. 24:9, 17–19; Isa. 11:10–16; 14:2; 54:3). In other passages the nations will be blessed by Israel’s God as they come to Israel, bring back exiled Israel, serve Israel, present Israel with their own wealth, and/or fear Israel’s God (Isa. 45:23; 49:22–23; 51:4–5; 55:5; 60:3–16; 61:5–6; 66:12–13, 18–21; Mic. 7:12–17; Zech. 2:11; 8:22–23). Other passages further elucidate the law-defined nature of such Gentile participation in the God of Israel’s salvation (Exod. 12:48; Isa. 56:1–8; Jer. 12:14–17; Zech. 14:16–21). The portrait of the nations “flowing” up the mountain of God associates Gentile participation in God’s salvation explicitly with the law (Isa. 2:2–5; Mic. 4:1–5).

The Servant Songs in Isa. 40–55 also reflect this law/Israel-centered nature of salvation for the Gentiles. The servant, explicitly identified as Israel (41:8, 9; 42:18–19; 44:1–2, 21; 45:4; 48:20; 49:3; 54:17; see also 65:9; 66:14), serves as God’s instrument for reaching the nations (42:1, 6; 49:6; 52:15). The OT usually condemns Gentiles who remain separate from Israel to some form of judgment, especially Gentiles who have harmed Israel.

Second Temple Judaism and Early Christianity

Second Temple Jewish sources exhibit diverse views about Gentiles, their nature, their possible relation to God, and their fate at the end. Many reflect something resembling the OT views. Israel as God’s people defined by the law, variously understood and contested among Second Temple sources, generally continues to be the locus of God’s ultimate blessing activities.

Situating Jesus and early Christianity within this matrix of Gentile sensitivities is illuminating. As the Jesus movement spread across the Mediterranean, proclaiming the ultimate salvation of the God of Israel in and through Jesus the Messiah, questions about how Gentiles experience this salvation of the Jewish God had paramount importance.

Some Christians, in line with traditional readings of the OT, thought that Gentiles must keep the law, becoming Jews to experience the God of Israel’s salvation in Jesus (Acts 11:1–3; 15:1, 5; Paul’s opponents in Galatia). Gentiles, after all, were separated from God and his salvation promises to Israel (Rom. 9:4–5; Eph. 2:11–13; 1 Pet. 2:10). They stood under God’s condemnation, especially because they were controlled by their passions and sin, lacking self-mastery and the ability to live rightly (Rom. 1:18–32; Eph. 4:17–19; 1 Thess. 4:5; 1 Pet. 1:14, 18).

However, various NT authors, such as Paul, contend that Gentiles need not keep the law, functionally becoming Jews, in order to participate in God’s ultimate salvation in Jesus. Christ, the climax of Israel itself, has replaced the law’s centrality and ultimacy with himself and his death and resurrection (Rom. 10:4). Through being united to Christ by the Spirit, Gentiles are, apart from the law, grafted into true, redefined Israel and become Abraham’s descendants, inheriting God’s promised salvation for Israel (Rom. 3:21–4:25; 8:1–17; 9:30–10:17; 11:13–32; Gal. 2:11–4:7; Eph. 2:11–22; 3:4–6). In Christ, by the Spirit, Gentiles attain self-mastery over their passions and sin and thus live rightly before God, inheriting the kingdom of God in Christ (Rom. 6:1–8:30; 1 Cor. 6:9–11; Gal. 5:16–26; 1 Thess. 4:3–8). Various NT writings thus reconfigure the situation of Gentiles with respect to Israel’s God because of what God did in Christ.

Debates about Gentiles, the law, salvation, and what Christ means for these issues persisted after Paul. Early Christians lacked an unequivocal saying from Jesus on the matter, and not all accepted Paul and some other NT writings.

In the OT, the concept of being an outcast typically refers to Israel (Jer. 30:17), its being scattered (Isa. 11:12; Ps. 147:2) and later gathered (Isa. 27:13; Mic. 4:6; Zeph. 3:19). Paul pictures outcast Israel as the branches broken off from the good olive tree (Rom. 11:17). Jesus’ ministry is characterized as one to outcasts from society whereby the Messiah welcomed lepers and other socially marginalized people. Jesus himself is considered an outcast, having no residence of his own and being unwelcome in Jerusalem and his own hometown (cf. John 1:11).

A synonym of “strength.” “Power” often translates the Hebrew words koakh or ’az or the Greek word dynamis, all of which denote strength or might. The Hebrew word yad (“hand”) may also denote power when it is used to speak of the dominion of a ruler (e.g., 2 Kings 17:7 [NASB: “hand of Pharaoh”; NIV: “power of Pharaoh”]).

Although humans have a degree of power, God is omnipotent, all-powerful (Jer. 32:17). He utilized his great power in creating the world (Jer. 51:15; Rom. 1:20; Rev. 4:11). He has also displayed his power through other mighty acts, such as delivering the Israelites from Egypt (Exod. 14:31; Deut. 9:26). The wisdom literature extols God’s power (Job 9:4; Pss. 20:6; 66:3; 147:5), as do the prophets (Isa. 40:10; Jer. 27:5; Dan. 2:20; Nah. 1:3) and the letters of the NT (1 Cor. 6:14; Eph. 1:18–21; Col. 2:10). God continues to display his power through the gospel (Rom. 1:16), not only in rescuing believers from their sins (1 Cor. 1:24–25) but also in empowering them to live holy lives (2 Cor. 4:7).

The Holy Spirit has acted and continues to act as the agent of God’s power (Judg. 14:6; 1 Sam. 16:13; Acts 1:8). Just as the Holy Spirit has done many powerful signs and wonders through Jesus and the apostles (Acts 10:38; Rom. 15:18–19), he gives rebirth to each Christian through his power (Gal. 4:29). The Holy Spirit also strengthens Christians with power “so that Christ may dwell in [their] hearts through faith” (Eph. 3:17).

The word “providence” comes from the Latin word providentia, which means “foresight.” However, the modern theological use of the term refers not to foresight or foreknowl-edge per se but rather to how God continues to sustain and guide his creation. There is no single term in either the OT or the NT that translates as “providence.” The one time the word occurs in the NIV (Job 10:12), the Hebrew word (peqqudah) is one that the NIV in other places usually translates with words such as “care,” “charge,” or “oversight.” The concept of divine providence comes not from any one word but rather from numerous statements in the Bible that speak of God’s continuing supervision of his world. The biblical data can perhaps best be organized under four headings: created order, world history, salvation history, and individual history. These headings are, however, not discrete; they continually intersect.

Created Order

Scripture testifies in numerous places to God’s ongoing supervision of his creation. The psalms play a special role here. As one commentator has remarked, there are no nature lyrics in the psalms, only admiration and awe at how God runs his world. God actively cares for the land and waters it, causes grass to grow, plants trees, and makes sure that they are well watered (Pss. 65:9; 104:14, 16). God brings darkness on the land and tells the sun when to set and when to rise (Ps. 104:19–20). God is the zookeeper who makes sure all the animals are fed (Ps. 104:27). Every birth of every living creature is regarded as a new creative work of God, and he constantly renews the face of the earth (Ps. 104:30).

God blankets the earth with snow and lays down a sheet of frost (Ps. 147:16). When the snow and frost melt, it is because God commanded it by his word and sent breezes to make the melting waters flow (Ps. 147:18). Hail, snow, clouds, and stormy winds do their Master’s bidding (Ps. 148:8). God commands the morning to dawn and keeps the snow and hail in storehouses, ready to be deployed on the day of battle (Job 38:12, 22–23). The sea waves roar because God stirs them up (Jer. 31:35). God even speaks of being in a covenant relationship with his creation (Jer. 33:20, 25).

In the NT, we find that Jesus Christ himself sustains “all things by his powerful word” (Heb. 1:3). In him “all things hold together” (Col. 1:17).

World History

What happens on the world scene is under God’s sovereign control. If the nations are scattered over the world and speak different languages, it is because God made it so (Gen. 11:1–9). God determines whether the nations are blessed or cursed (Gen. 12:3). God is the one who has apportioned each nation’s inher-i-tance and has established their boundaries (Deut. 32:8). Yahweh is the God of Israel, which is his special possession, but he has also appointed deities for the other nations to worship (Deut. 4:19 [evidently false gods, but still under Yahweh’s sovereignty]). He judges the world and carries out justice for the peoples, foils the plans of the nations, forms the hearts of all people, reigns over the nations and guides them (Pss. 9:8; 33:10, 15; 47:8; 67:4).

It is by God’s sanction that kings reign, and a king’s heart is like a watercourse, which God can redirect at will (Prov. 8:15; 21:1). God “does as he pleases with the powers of heaven and the peoples of the earth” (Dan. 4:35). All thrones, powers, rulers, and authorities “were created through him and for him” (Col. 1:16). God is actively working to bring the whole universe and all peoples and nations under one head, his Son, Christ Jesus (Eph. 1:10).

Salvation History

Within world history, God has also worked through one particular people, the Israelites, to accomplish his redemptive purposes. When Joseph told his brothers that what they had intended to do to him for evil, God had intended for good, for “the saving of many lives” (Gen. 50:20), he may not have fully realized how much his words were in accord with, and could even be said to summarize, redemptive history. God took the harm that Joseph’s brothers intended and used it to fulfill the promises that he had made years earlier to Abraham with regard to what would happen to his descendants (Gen. 12:1–3). In the early chapters of Exodus, God’s sovereignty over the “forces of nature” intersects with his deliverance of the Israelites in the plagues that he brings on the Egyptians. Of course, God had raised up Pharaoh for the very purpose of displaying his own glory in victory over Pharaoh and “all the gods of Egypt” (Exod. 9:16; 12:12; cf. Rom. 9:17).

Throughout the ensuing Israelite history, God demonstrates his providential care for the Israelites. The Jews return from their Babylonian captivity because God raised up Cyrus, even though Cyrus did not acknowledge him (Isa. 44:28–45:13), for the very purpose of issuing the decree that allowed them to return. Even in narratives in which God’s name is not mentioned, such as the book of Esther, we are to understand that God is directing the action, and certainly the narrator wants us to connect the account of the origin of the festival of Purim (“lots”) with the idea that “the lot is cast into the lap, but its every decision is from the Lord” (Prov. 16:33).

In the NT the act that secures our redemption, the crucifixion of Jesus, is not an unforeseen occurrence that God makes the best of; rather, the death of Jesus is that which he himself would “accomplish” (Luke 9:31 NRSV [NIV: “bring to fulfillment”]). No one takes Jesus’ life from him; he lays it down of his own accord (John 10:18). Jesus even gives Judas Iscariot directions on the night of his betrayal (John 13:27). What happens in the crucifixion is in accord with “God’s deliberate plan and foreknowledge” (Acts 2:23) and with what his “power and will had decided beforehand should happen” (4:28).

Individual History

Jesus promises that for those who seek the kingdom of God, “all these things will be given to you as well” (Matt. 6:33). If God feeds the birds of the air and clothes the grass of the field, much more will he take care to feed and clothe us (Matt. 6:26, 30). Indeed, “in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose” (Rom. 8:28).

Fine, wavy hair forming the fleece of sheep or goats. Outer garments were made from the cloth spun from wool. The industrious wife of Prov. 31 “works with eager hands” as she weaves cloth from wool (v. 13). The whiteness of wool was used to describe the whiteness of snow (Ps. 147:16), the purity of sins forgiven (Isa. 1:18), the hair of the Ancient of Days (Dan. 7:9) and of Christ envisioned by John (Rev. 1:14).

A transliteration of the Hebrew phrase halelu yah. The first word is an imperative form of the verb hallal, which means “to praise.” The second word is a derivation of the name of God, “Yahweh,” typically translated as “Lord,” and is the object of the verb. Thus, “hallelujah” means “praise the Lord.” This phrase has become idiomatic for Christian communities, so that the Hebrew pronunciation of “hallelujah” and its use as an exclamation of praise have been preserved. The phrase occurs twenty-four times in the Psalms, beginning at Ps. 104:35, and appears the most frequently in the last five psalms (Pss. 146–150).

Common and valuable for food, beans were cooked while green in the pods or after being dried. Dry beans were threshed and winnowed like cereals and other grains. Beans are mentioned twice in the NIV (2 Sam. 17:28; Ezek. 4:9).

Over 350 species of birds have been recorded in the land of modern-day Israel. The OT employs thirty-five different words for birds (both wild and domestic), but the identification of these words with known species has proved to be very difficult. Like other words for animals, terminology for birds often is employed in personal names (e.g., Jonah, Oreb, Zippor, Zipporah). There is significant evidence for fowling practices in ancient Israel, usually by means of nets and snares (Pss. 124:7; 140:5; Prov. 6:5; 7:23; Lam. 3:52; Hos. 7:12; Amos 3:5). Small birds and chickens are occasionally even depicted on Iron Age II (1000–586 BC) seals and vessels from sites such as el-Jib (Gibeon) and Tell en-Nasbeh (Mizpah).

Like other animals in the Bible, birds are depicted as agents of God. Divine agency is especially evident in instances such as the ravens feeding Elijah (1 Kings 17:4–6) and the dove bringing an olive leaf to Noah (Gen. 8:11). The Bible also employs bird-related imagery such as in descriptions of divine judgment (Prov. 30:17; Jer. 12:9). Birds may also serve as ominous signs of impending judgment (Hos. 8:1). God’s “wings” can offer both healing (Mal. 4:2 KJV, RSV) and protection (Ruth 2:12; Pss. 17:8; 36:7; 57:1; 61:4; 63:7; 91:4). The metaphor of the soul or spirit as a bird is referenced in the description of the Holy Spirit descending like a dove (Matt. 3:16; Mark 1:10; Luke 3:22; John 1:32). The observation that birds “do not sow or reap” is employed as an image of worry-free living (Luke 12:24; cf. Job 38:41; Ps. 147:9). Jesus’ reference to “when the rooster crows” (Mark 13:35) is not strictly literal but rather refers to a watch of the night: the quarter of the night after midnight.

The prominence of sacrificial birds (especially doves and pigeons) in ritual literature indicates that they were likely raised for such purposes in ancient Israel. All birds could be eaten except those listed as unclean in Lev. 11:13–19 (twenty species) and Deut. 14:12–18 (twenty-one species). Generally speaking, birds of prey and those that feed on carrion or fish were considered unclean. Birds often served as food for the poor (Matt. 10:29–31; Luke 12:6–7). Poor people could offer birds as a substitute for expensive livestock (Lev. 5:7; 12:8; 14:21–22; cf. Luke 2:24), while the poorest of the poor were permitted to bring grain (Lev. 5:11). Finally, in one purgation ritual a live bird is used to carry away impurities (Lev. 14:52–53; cf. 16:22).

A collection of 150 poems. They are the hymnbook of the OT period, used in public worship. Psalms contains songs of different lengths, types, and dates. The earliest psalm (Ps. 90) is attributed to Moses (mid-second millennium BC), while the content of Ps. 126 and Ps. 137 points to the latest periods of the OT (mid-first millennium BC). They continue to be used as a source of public worship and private devotion.

Historical Background

Most psalms have a title. In the Hebrew text this title comprises the first verse, whereas English translations set it off before the first verse. Titles vary. Many name an author (e.g., David [Ps. 3]; Asaph [Ps. 77]; sons of Korah [Ps. 42]), while others provide information about genre (e.g., Psalms of Ascent [Pss. 120–134]), tune (e.g., “Do Not Destroy” [Ps. 75]), use in worship (Ps. 92), and a circumstance that led to composition (Ps. 51). Information in the title gives hints concerning how psalms were written and brought into a final collection.

Composition

As mentioned, the titles of the psalms often give indications of authorship and occasionally name the circumstance that led to the writing of the psalm. A good example is Ps. 51, where the title states, “For the director of music. A psalm of David. When the prophet Nathan came to him after David had committed adultery with Bathsheba.” The title connects the psalm with the events recorded in 2 Sam. 11–12 and suggests that David wrote the song in response to his sin and Nathan’s confrontation.

Although only a handful of the psalms have such a historical title, it is likely that most psalms were composed in response to some specific circumstance that encouraged the author to write. Interestingly, though, the psalmists do not speak about the specific circumstance in the psalm itself. Psalm 51, for instance, fits perfectly with the situation that the title describes in that it expresses guilt toward God and asks for forgiveness, but nowhere does it speak specifically about adultery. The psalmists do this intentionally because they are writing the song not as a memorial to an event, but rather as a prayer that others who have had similar though not identical experiences can use after them. Thus, Ps. 51 has been used as a model prayer for many penitents, whether they have sinned like David or in another way.

Most modern hymns have a similar background. John Newton, for instance, was inspired to write “Amazing Grace” because of awe that he felt at his conversion to Christianity from the evil of being a slave trader. However, when he wrote it, he wanted others to sing it as reflecting not on his conversion but on their own.

Collection

The psalms were composed over a thousand-year period. Thus, it appears that the book of Psalms was a growing collection until it came to a close at an unknown time between the writing of the two Testaments.

In 1 Chron. 16:7–36 we may get a glimpse of how the process worked. The text describes David turning a musical composition over to the Levitical musician Asaph and his associates. It is likely that the priests kept an official copy of the book of Psalms in the holy place (the temple while it stood). The psalms, after all, were the hymns of ancient Israel. Their primary function was as a corporate book of prayer, though certainly they could be used in private devotions (note Hannah’s prayer in 1 Sam. 2:1–10 and its relationship to Ps. 113).

Organization and Structure

The psalms have no obvious organization that explains the location of all the psalms. They are not organized in terms of genre, authorship, time of composition, or length. There is only one statement about organization, found in Ps. 72:20: “This concludes the prayers of David son of Jesse.” In the light of this comment, it is surprising that a number of Davidic psalms appear in subsequent sections (Pss. 101; 103; 108–110; 122; 124; 131; 133; 138–145). The best explanation is that at one point Ps. 72 concluded the Davidic psalms, but there was a reorganization before the canonical order was permanently closed.

A number of contemporary theories try to find some deep structure to the book, but it is best to refrain from speculation in regard to the overall structure. Nonetheless, a few structural characteristics are obvious. First, the division of Psalms into five books seems to reflect the fivefold division of the Pentateuch:

I. Book 1 (Pss. 1–41)

II. Book 2 (Pss. 42–72)

III. Book 3 (Pss. 73–89)

IV. Book 4 (Pss. 90–106)

V. Book 5 (Pss. 107–150)

Each book ends with a doxology. Such an intentional association with the Pentateuch would lend support to the Psalter’s claim to authority. Although these are prayers to God, they are also God’s word.

Second, within the Psalter there are subcollections. That is, there are psalms that came into the book not individually but as a group. The best-known such group are the Psalms of Ascent (Pss. 120–134), probably so named because worshipers sang them while going up (ascending) to the Temple Mount during one of the annual religious festivals in Jerusalem.

Third, it appears that psalms are intentionally placed at the beginning and at the end of the book to serve as an introduction and a conclusion. Psalms 1–2 serve as an introduction that alerts the reader to the twin important themes of law and messiah. Psalm 1 pronounces a blessing on those who love God’s law. The psalms, after all, are an intimate and personal conversation with God. One must be on the side of the godly to enter such a holy textual space, just as one must be godly to enter the precincts of the temple. After the reader enters, Psalm 2 provides an encounter with God and his anointed one (messiah). At the end of the book, the last five psalms (Pss. 146–150) constitute a tremendous doxology of praise.

This leads to the final observation on structure. Psalms of lament predominate at the beginning of the book, but they give way to hymns of praise toward the end. It is almost as if one enters the Psalter mourning and leaves it praising. Indeed, the Psalter brings the reader into contact with God and thus transforms the reader from sadness to joy.

Literary Considerations

Genre. The individual psalms may be identified as songs, prayers, or poems. Specifically, they are lyric poems (expressing the emotions of the poet), often addressed to God, and set to musical accompaniment. Although the categories overlap, seven different types of psalms can be recognized, with the first three being by far the most common.

• Lament. The largest single group of psalms are the laments, characterized by the expression of unhappy emotions: sadness, disappointment, anger, worry. The lamenters call on God to save them, even while at times complaining about God’s actions toward them (Ps. 42:9–10). Some laments contain petitions for forgiveness (Ps. 51), while others assert innocence of any wrongdoing (Ps. 26). A few laments even contain curses directed toward the enemies who are trying to harm the psalmist (Ps. 69:19–28). Most laments end by praising God or reaffirming confidence in God (Ps. 130:7–8). Usually the reason for the change from mourning to rejoicing is not given, but Ps. 77 pinpoints the reason as the memory of God’s great salvation events in the past (vv. 10, 16–20). One psalm, Ps. 88, laments but never makes the turn, remaining in the pit of despair. Yet even here we have a glimmer of hope in that the one who laments is still speaking to God.

• Thanksgiving. When God answers a lament, the response is thanksgiving. Psalms of thanksgiving are very similar to hymns (see below), but they cite an earlier problem that God has addressed. Psalm 30 praises God for restoring the psalmist’s good fortune and health after he suffered due to his earlier arrogance that led him to forget God (vv. 6–7).

• Hymn. Hymns are psalms of unalloyed praise directed toward God. The psalmists often call for others to join their worship of God (Ps. 100).

• Remembrance. While many psalms evoke memories of God’s actions in the past (as the lament in Ps. 77 recalls the exodus), certain psalms focus on rehearsing the actions of God in the past. Psalm 136 is one of the most memorable examples. As a liturgical psalm, it recites a divine action (“[God] swept Pharaoh and his army into the Red Sea” [v. 15]) followed by a congregational response (“His love endures forever”).

• Confidence. These psalms are defined by their mood of quiet trust in God even in the midst of trouble. They often present a reassuring image of God. The picture of God as a shepherd in Ps. 23 or as a mother in Ps. 131 are good examples.

• Wisdom. Some psalms meditate on the law (Pss. 1; 119) or have interests similar to those of wisdom literature, such as Job, Proverbs, and Ecclesiastes (Pss. 49; 73).

• Kingship. A number of psalms praise God as king (Ps. 47) or the human king as his agent (Pss. 20–21) or both (Ps. 2).

Style. The psalms are poems, and so their style is characterized by the use of parallelism and figurative language. Poetry is also notable for its short lines. A poet packs a lot of meaning into very few words. So it is important to slow down and reflect on a psalm in order to derive its maximum effect. Besides brevity of expression, parallelism, and figurative language, poets create interest by using other literary tools. The psalmists use these poetic devices not only to inform their readers’ intellect but also to stimulate their imagination and arouse their emotions. (See also Acrostic; Imagery; Poetry.)

Theological Message

Although the psalms are not theological essays, readers can learn about God and their relationship with God from these poems. The book of Psalms is a bit like a portrait gallery of God, using images to describe who he is and the nature of our relationship with him. Some examples include God as shepherd (Ps. 23), king (Ps. 47), warrior (Ps. 98), and mother (Ps. 131), and the list could be greatly expanded. Each one of these picture images casts light on the nature of God and also the nature of our relationship with God. After all, the aforementioned psalms explicitly or implicitly describe God’s people as sheep, subjects, soldiers, and children.

Connection to the New Testament and Today

Jesus himself draws attention to Psalms as a book that anticipated his coming suffering and glorification (Luke 24:25–27, 44). The Gospels recognized that Jesus’ zeal for God was well expressed by Ps. 69:9 (John 2:17). When at the apex of his suffering on the cross, Jesus uttered the words found in Ps. 22:1 (Matt. 27:46). The NT writers also saw that Jesus was the fulfillment of the covenant that promised that a son of David would have an everlasting throne (2 Sam. 7:16). Accordingly, the royal psalms (e.g., Pss. 2; 110) often were applied to Jesus, who is the Messiah (the Christ, “the anointed one”).

Today we read Psalms not only as an ancient witness to the coming work of Christ but also, as John Calvin put it, as a mirror of our souls. The psalms were written for worshipers who came after them with similar though not identical joys and problems. The psalms should become models of our prayers.

In systematic theology, “foreknowledge” usually refers to the doctrine that God knows all things, events, and persons before they exist or occur and that this knowledge has been his from all eternity. No single Hebrew term in the OT corresponds to the English term; the concept is expressed rather on the phrase or sentence level. In the NT, the Greek verb proginōskō and noun prognōsis are translated “foreknow” and “foreknowledge,” respectively. Recently in evangelical circles there has been intense debate as to whether foreknowledge and omniscience are in fact taught in the biblical texts.

Old Testament

In the OT narratives, especially in the Pentateuch, there are numerous instances that indicate some limitations to God’s knowledge in general and his foreknowledge in particular. God appears to be somewhat surprised by how wicked humanity has become before he decides to send the flood (Gen. 6:5). God comes down and discovers that the inhabitants of Babel have started to build a tower and considers how to stop the activity (11:5–7). God comes down to ascertain whether the outcry that has come to his ears about the sin of Sodom and Gomorrah is actually as bad as the reports would indicate (18:20–21). God tests Abraham by commanding him to offer Isaac as a sacrifice, and when Abraham begins to do so, he declares that now he knows that Abraham really fears him (22:1–18).

Often, narratives such as these are regarded by theologians as cases of anthropomorphism, statements made about God that speak of him as if he had human characteristics—in this case, limited knowledge. And certainly there are many other narratives in the Pentateuch that appear to give the opposite picture. God asks Cain where his brother Abel is, though he apparently already knows the answer (Gen. 4:9–10). God relates to Abraham the course that Israelite history will take for the next several hundred years (15:13–16). God seems to be in a real-time chess match with Pharaoh, but in actuality God knows all the moves that both he and Pharaoh will make before the game ever begins (Exod. 3:19–22; 4:21–23; 7:1–5).

Given this data, perhaps the better explanation for what is happening in these texts is not that the biblical narrator is employing anthropomorphism but rather that God is accommodating himself both to the characters in the narrative and to the narrator of the stories. That is, at this stage of revelatory history God is not yet revealing himself as fully omniscient and prescient of the future in its entirety. In the conceptual world of the ancient Near East, deities were regularly portrayed as being interactive—deliberating, investigating, discovering, making decisions, and so forth. God therefore may well have accommodated himself to the larger milieu in revealing himself to the patriarchs and earliest biblical narrators.

Whatever the case may be, later biblical revelation certainly seems to present God as fully omniscient and prescient. “Death and Destruction lie open before the Lord—how much more do human hearts!” (Prov. 15:11). Before words reach our tongues, God knows them completely (Ps. 139:4). No one has ever had to keep God informed or provide him with counsel (Isa. 40:13–14). There are no limits to his understanding (Ps. 147:5). The God of Israel challenges all idols and all other gods to a foreknowledge contest: if they are able, let them tell what is going to happen, as Yahweh does (Isa. 42:9; 44:6–8; 48:3–8). God alone makes the end known from the beginning (Isa. 46:10), and he has been doing so from ancient times (Acts 15:17–18). God knew Jeremiah long before he was ever a fetus (Jer. 1:5). Our prayers do not make God finally aware of our situation; he already knows what our needs are (Matt. 6:8). Indeed, God answers our prayers before they are even prayed (Isa. 65:24). “Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare” before his eyes (Heb. 4:13).

New Testament

One especially important exegetical question for the NT involves the precise meaning of the aforementioned Greek words, proginōskō (“foreknow”) and prognōsis (“foreknowledge”). The question concerns whether these words, in their contexts, are merely cognitive terms, indicating simply that God knows things before they happen, or whether the terms are volitional terms and/or affective terms. That is, do they indicate foreordaining and/or foreloving? Are they terms that have basically the same meaning as “election” and “predestination”?

Giving credence to this position is the fact that in some of the passages where these words occur there are other words that definitely refer to God willing things to happen. In Acts 2:23, Peter declares that Jesus was handed over to his crucifiers by “God’s deliberate plan and foreknowledge.” The verse can hardly mean that God decided to do this because he already knew it was going to happen. Rather, the terms “deliberate plan” and “foreknowledge” act together to convey the single idea of God’s complete control, planning, and sovereignty in the death of Jesus. Likewise, in 1 Pet. 1:20 the word does not mean that the Son was simply “foreknown” before the foundation of the world, but rather that he was “chosen” (NIV), “destined” (NRSV), “foreordained” (KJV).

In Rom. 11:2, Paul states that God has not rejected “his people, whom he foreknew.” Again, it is hard to read this as being only cognitive. Rather, the use of the term appears to imply some kind of “affective” foreknowing, a “setting his love upon” (cf. Deut. 7:7–8), a choosing. It is important to note that the text says God foreknew not things but people. On the one hand, God foreknew all people who would ever exist, but in this passage the foreknowing refers to a particular people. And the foreknowing most likely takes its sense from the use of the word “know” in the OT, which on numerous occasions refers to the relationship of acknowledgment and love between God and his people.

In the same way, in Rom. 8:29 “those God foreknew he also predestined,” “foreknew” again appears to be a volitional, affective term—that is, “those whom God set his love upon.” That it means that God knew how these people would respond to the gospel and then chose them seems to be excluded by passages such as Rom. 9:11–12, where God’s purposes in election are not determined by people’s actions. Finally, in 1 Pet. 1:1–2 the “elect” to whom Peter is writing are elect according to “foreknowledge of God”; not that God foreknew things about them, but that God foreknew them. This understanding of the terms in context seems preferable.

In systematic theology, “foreknowledge” usually refers to the doctrine that God knows all things, events, and persons before they exist or occur and that this knowledge has been his from all eternity. No single Hebrew term in the OT corresponds to the English term; the concept is expressed rather on the phrase or sentence level. In the NT, the Greek verb proginōskō and noun prognōsis are translated “foreknow” and “foreknowledge,” respectively. Recently in evangelical circles there has been intense debate as to whether foreknowledge and omniscience are in fact taught in the biblical texts.

Old Testament

In the OT narratives, especially in the Pentateuch, there are numerous instances that indicate some limitations to God’s knowledge in general and his foreknowledge in particular. God appears to be somewhat surprised by how wicked humanity has become before he decides to send the flood (Gen. 6:5). God comes down and discovers that the inhabitants of Babel have started to build a tower and considers how to stop the activity (11:5–7). God comes down to ascertain whether the outcry that has come to his ears about the sin of Sodom and Gomorrah is actually as bad as the reports would indicate (18:20–21). God tests Abraham by commanding him to offer Isaac as a sacrifice, and when Abraham begins to do so, he declares that now he knows that Abraham really fears him (22:1–18).

Often, narratives such as these are regarded by theologians as cases of anthropomorphism, statements made about God that speak of him as if he had human characteristics—in this case, limited knowledge. And certainly there are many other narratives in the Pentateuch that appear to give the opposite picture. God asks Cain where his brother Abel is, though he apparently already knows the answer (Gen. 4:9–10). God relates to Abraham the course that Israelite history will take for the next several hundred years (15:13–16). God seems to be in a real-time chess match with Pharaoh, but in actuality God knows all the moves that both he and Pharaoh will make before the game ever begins (Exod. 3:19–22; 4:21–23; 7:1–5).

Given this data, perhaps the better explanation for what is happening in these texts is not that the biblical narrator is employing anthropomorphism but rather that God is accommodating himself both to the characters in the narrative and to the narrator of the stories. That is, at this stage of revelatory history God is not yet revealing himself as fully omniscient and prescient of the future in its entirety. In the conceptual world of the ancient Near East, deities were regularly portrayed as being interactive—deliberating, investigating, discovering, making decisions, and so forth. God therefore may well have accommodated himself to the larger milieu in revealing himself to the patriarchs and earliest biblical narrators.

Whatever the case may be, later biblical revelation certainly seems to present God as fully omniscient and prescient. “Death and Destruction lie open before the Lord—how much more do human hearts!” (Prov. 15:11). Before words reach our tongues, God knows them completely (Ps. 139:4). No one has ever had to keep God informed or provide him with counsel (Isa. 40:13–14). There are no limits to his understanding (Ps. 147:5). The God of Israel challenges all idols and all other gods to a foreknowledge contest: if they are able, let them tell what is going to happen, as Yahweh does (Isa. 42:9; 44:6–8; 48:3–8). God alone makes the end known from the beginning (Isa. 46:10), and he has been doing so from ancient times (Acts 15:17–18). God knew Jeremiah long before he was ever a fetus (Jer. 1:5). Our prayers do not make God finally aware of our situation; he already knows what our needs are (Matt. 6:8). Indeed, God answers our prayers before they are even prayed (Isa. 65:24). “Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare” before his eyes (Heb. 4:13).

New Testament

One especially important exegetical question for the NT involves the precise meaning of the aforementioned Greek words, proginōskō (“foreknow”) and prognōsis (“foreknowledge”). The question concerns whether these words, in their contexts, are merely cognitive terms, indicating simply that God knows things before they happen, or whether the terms are volitional terms and/or affective terms. That is, do they indicate foreordaining and/or foreloving? Are they terms that have basically the same meaning as “election” and “predestination”?

Giving credence to this position is the fact that in some of the passages where these words occur there are other words that definitely refer to God willing things to happen. In Acts 2:23, Peter declares that Jesus was handed over to his crucifiers by “God’s deliberate plan and foreknowledge.” The verse can hardly mean that God decided to do this because he already knew it was going to happen. Rather, the terms “deliberate plan” and “foreknowledge” act together to convey the single idea of God’s complete control, planning, and sovereignty in the death of Jesus. Likewise, in 1 Pet. 1:20 the word does not mean that the Son was simply “foreknown” before the foundation of the world, but rather that he was “chosen” (NIV), “destined” (NRSV), “foreordained” (KJV).

In Rom. 11:2, Paul states that God has not rejected “his people, whom he foreknew.” Again, it is hard to read this as being only cognitive. Rather, the use of the term appears to imply some kind of “affective” foreknowing, a “setting his love upon” (cf. Deut. 7:7–8), a choosing. It is important to note that the text says God foreknew not things but people. On the one hand, God foreknew all people who would ever exist, but in this passage the foreknowing refers to a particular people. And the foreknowing most likely takes its sense from the use of the word “know” in the OT, which on numerous occasions refers to the relationship of acknowledgment and love between God and his people.

In the same way, in Rom. 8:29 “those God foreknew he also predestined,” “foreknew” again appears to be a volitional, affective term—that is, “those whom God set his love upon.” That it means that God knew how these people would respond to the gospel and then chose them seems to be excluded by passages such as Rom. 9:11–12, where God’s purposes in election are not determined by people’s actions. Finally, in 1 Pet. 1:1–2 the “elect” to whom Peter is writing are elect according to “foreknowledge of God”; not that God foreknew things about them, but that God foreknew them. This understanding of the terms in context seems preferable.

The word “Gentiles” is often used to translate words meaning “nations” or “peoples.” It has a Latin etymology from gens, meaning “clan” or “family” and, eventually, “race” or “people.” The Greek word genos (“race, kind”) has a close relationship. In the Bible it loosely refers to nations or peoples other than Israel. English Bibles often translate it as “nations,” “peoples,” or “races.”

Old Testament

In general, within the OT, Gentiles are not God’s people. God chose Israel to be his people, not other nations (Deut. 7:6–8; 10:15; 26:18–19). Israelite ancestry determines membership in the covenant people. Some writings thus forbid Gentiles from becoming part of God’s people (Ezra 9–10; Neh. 13).

The OT more commonly envisions Gentiles experiencing covenant blessing through Israel if they functionally become Israelites by keeping the law, including the parts we understand as ceremonial-ritual law. The law is that special life-giving and regulating aspect of the covenant that God revealed to Israel, which defines Israel (Lev. 18:1–5; 20:22–26; Deut. 4:1–8, 32–40; 6:24–25; 8:1–6; 10:12–11:32; 30:11–20; Josh. 1:7–9; Neh. 9:29; Pss. 119; 147:19–20; Ezek. 20:9–13, 21).

Such law/Israel-centered conditions for Gentiles relate to a broader OT understanding: God will reach and restore the world through Israel, the locus of his saving activity. God will bless the nations in and through Abraham’s descendants, Israel (Gen. 12:1–3; 17:4–6; 22:18; 26:4; 28:14). This covenant specifically involves keeping the law (e.g., circumcision [Gen. 17:9–14]). Some passages depict this happening through the nations being subject to Israel (Gen. 49:8–12; Num. 24:9, 17–19; Isa. 11:10–16; 14:2; 54:3). In other passages the nations will be blessed by Israel’s God as they come to Israel, bring back exiled Israel, serve Israel, present Israel with their own wealth, and/or fear Israel’s God (Isa. 45:23; 49:22–23; 51:4–5; 55:5; 60:3–16; 61:5–6; 66:12–13, 18–21; Mic. 7:12–17; Zech. 2:11; 8:22–23). Other passages further elucidate the law-defined nature of such Gentile participation in the God of Israel’s salvation (Exod. 12:48; Isa. 56:1–8; Jer. 12:14–17; Zech. 14:16–21). The portrait of the nations “flowing” up the mountain of God associates Gentile participation in God’s salvation explicitly with the law (Isa. 2:2–5; Mic. 4:1–5).

The Servant Songs in Isa. 40–55 also reflect this law/Israel-centered nature of salvation for the Gentiles. The servant, explicitly identified as Israel (41:8, 9; 42:18–19; 44:1–2, 21; 45:4; 48:20; 49:3; 54:17; see also 65:9; 66:14), serves as God’s instrument for reaching the nations (42:1, 6; 49:6; 52:15). The OT usually condemns Gentiles who remain separate from Israel to some form of judgment, especially Gentiles who have harmed Israel.

Second Temple Judaism and Early Christianity

Second Temple Jewish sources exhibit diverse views about Gentiles, their nature, their possible relation to God, and their fate at the end. Many reflect something resembling the OT views. Israel as God’s people defined by the law, variously understood and contested among Second Temple sources, generally continues to be the locus of God’s ultimate blessing activities.

Situating Jesus and early Christianity within this matrix of Gentile sensitivities is illuminating. As the Jesus movement spread across the Mediterranean, proclaiming the ultimate salvation of the God of Israel in and through Jesus the Messiah, questions about how Gentiles experience this salvation of the Jewish God had paramount importance.

Some Christians, in line with traditional readings of the OT, thought that Gentiles must keep the law, becoming Jews to experience the God of Israel’s salvation in Jesus (Acts 11:1–3; 15:1, 5; Paul’s opponents in Galatia). Gentiles, after all, were separated from God and his salvation promises to Israel (Rom. 9:4–5; Eph. 2:11–13; 1 Pet. 2:10). They stood under God’s condemnation, especially because they were controlled by their passions and sin, lacking self-mastery and the ability to live rightly (Rom. 1:18–32; Eph. 4:17–19; 1 Thess. 4:5; 1 Pet. 1:14, 18).

However, various NT authors, such as Paul, contend that Gentiles need not keep the law, functionally becoming Jews, in order to participate in God’s ultimate salvation in Jesus. Christ, the climax of Israel itself, has replaced the law’s centrality and ultimacy with himself and his death and resurrection (Rom. 10:4). Through being united to Christ by the Spirit, Gentiles are, apart from the law, grafted into true, redefined Israel and become Abraham’s descendants, inheriting God’s promised salvation for Israel (Rom. 3:21–4:25; 8:1–17; 9:30–10:17; 11:13–32; Gal. 2:11–4:7; Eph. 2:11–22; 3:4–6). In Christ, by the Spirit, Gentiles attain self-mastery over their passions and sin and thus live rightly before God, inheriting the kingdom of God in Christ (Rom. 6:1–8:30; 1 Cor. 6:9–11; Gal. 5:16–26; 1 Thess. 4:3–8). Various NT writings thus reconfigure the situation of Gentiles with respect to Israel’s God because of what God did in Christ.

Debates about Gentiles, the law, salvation, and what Christ means for these issues persisted after Paul. Early Christians lacked an unequivocal saying from Jesus on the matter, and not all accepted Paul and some other NT writings.

The Hebrew verb “praise” (in the imperative form). Hallel is used generally to refer to psalms that contain the command “Hallelujah (“praise the Lord”; “jah” is a shortened form of YHWH [“Yahweh”], which is typically translated as “Lord”). It also designates Pss. 113–118, which are collectively referred to as the Egyptian Hallel because they begin with “Praise the Lord” and refer to the exodus and Passover sacrifice. These psalms were read liturgically during Jewish festivals. Their use during family Passover celebrations makes it likely that the hymn sung by Jesus and his disciples after the Last Supper included some of these psalms. Psalm 136 is known as the Great Hallel, as it entreats worshipers to praise God for his great works in creation and salvation from Israel’s enemies. The Psalter ends with five psalms that each begin and end with “praise the Lord” (Pss. 146–150).

The word “Gentiles” is often used to translate words meaning “nations” or “peoples.” It has a Latin etymology from gens, meaning “clan” or “family” and, eventually, “race” or “people.” The Greek word genos (“race, kind”) has a close relationship. In the Bible it loosely refers to nations or peoples other than Israel. English Bibles often translate it as “nations,” “peoples,” or “races.”

Old Testament

In general, within the OT, Gentiles are not God’s people. God chose Israel to be his people, not other nations (Deut. 7:6–8; 10:15; 26:18–19). Israelite ancestry determines membership in the covenant people. Some writings thus forbid Gentiles from becoming part of God’s people (Ezra 9–10; Neh. 13).

The OT more commonly envisions Gentiles experiencing covenant blessing through Israel if they functionally become Israelites by keeping the law, including the parts we understand as ceremonial-ritual law. The law is that special life-giving and regulating aspect of the covenant that God revealed to Israel, which defines Israel (Lev. 18:1–5; 20:22–26; Deut. 4:1–8, 32–40; 6:24–25; 8:1–6; 10:12–11:32; 30:11–20; Josh. 1:7–9; Neh. 9:29; Pss. 119; 147:19–20; Ezek. 20:9–13, 21).

Such law/Israel-centered conditions for Gentiles relate to a broader OT understanding: God will reach and restore the world through Israel, the locus of his saving activity. God will bless the nations in and through Abraham’s descendants, Israel (Gen. 12:1–3; 17:4–6; 22:18; 26:4; 28:14). This covenant specifically involves keeping the law (e.g., circumcision [Gen. 17:9–14]). Some passages depict this happening through the nations being subject to Israel (Gen. 49:8–12; Num. 24:9, 17–19; Isa. 11:10–16; 14:2; 54:3). In other passages the nations will be blessed by Israel’s God as they come to Israel, bring back exiled Israel, serve Israel, present Israel with their own wealth, and/or fear Israel’s God (Isa. 45:23; 49:22–23; 51:4–5; 55:5; 60:3–16; 61:5–6; 66:12–13, 18–21; Mic. 7:12–17; Zech. 2:11; 8:22–23). Other passages further elucidate the law-defined nature of such Gentile participation in the God of Israel’s salvation (Exod. 12:48; Isa. 56:1–8; Jer. 12:14–17; Zech. 14:16–21). The portrait of the nations “flowing” up the mountain of God associates Gentile participation in God’s salvation explicitly with the law (Isa. 2:2–5; Mic. 4:1–5).

The Servant Songs in Isa. 40–55 also reflect this law/Israel-centered nature of salvation for the Gentiles. The servant, explicitly identified as Israel (41:8, 9; 42:18–19; 44:1–2, 21; 45:4; 48:20; 49:3; 54:17; see also 65:9; 66:14), serves as God’s instrument for reaching the nations (42:1, 6; 49:6; 52:15). The OT usually condemns Gentiles who remain separate from Israel to some form of judgment, especially Gentiles who have harmed Israel.

Second Temple Judaism and Early Christianity

Second Temple Jewish sources exhibit diverse views about Gentiles, their nature, their possible relation to God, and their fate at the end. Many reflect something resembling the OT views. Israel as God’s people defined by the law, variously understood and contested among Second Temple sources, generally continues to be the locus of God’s ultimate blessing activities.

Situating Jesus and early Christianity within this matrix of Gentile sensitivities is illuminating. As the Jesus movement spread across the Mediterranean, proclaiming the ultimate salvation of the God of Israel in and through Jesus the Messiah, questions about how Gentiles experience this salvation of the Jewish God had paramount importance.

Some Christians, in line with traditional readings of the OT, thought that Gentiles must keep the law, becoming Jews to experience the God of Israel’s salvation in Jesus (Acts 11:1–3; 15:1, 5; Paul’s opponents in Galatia). Gentiles, after all, were separated from God and his salvation promises to Israel (Rom. 9:4–5; Eph. 2:11–13; 1 Pet. 2:10). They stood under God’s condemnation, especially because they were controlled by their passions and sin, lacking self-mastery and the ability to live rightly (Rom. 1:18–32; Eph. 4:17–19; 1 Thess. 4:5; 1 Pet. 1:14, 18).

However, various NT authors, such as Paul, contend that Gentiles need not keep the law, functionally becoming Jews, in order to participate in God’s ultimate salvation in Jesus. Christ, the climax of Israel itself, has replaced the law’s centrality and ultimacy with himself and his death and resurrection (Rom. 10:4). Through being united to Christ by the Spirit, Gentiles are, apart from the law, grafted into true, redefined Israel and become Abraham’s descendants, inheriting God’s promised salvation for Israel (Rom. 3:21–4:25; 8:1–17; 9:30–10:17; 11:13–32; Gal. 2:11–4:7; Eph. 2:11–22; 3:4–6). In Christ, by the Spirit, Gentiles attain self-mastery over their passions and sin and thus live rightly before God, inheriting the kingdom of God in Christ (Rom. 6:1–8:30; 1 Cor. 6:9–11; Gal. 5:16–26; 1 Thess. 4:3–8). Various NT writings thus reconfigure the situation of Gentiles with respect to Israel’s God because of what God did in Christ.

Debates about Gentiles, the law, salvation, and what Christ means for these issues persisted after Paul. Early Christians lacked an unequivocal saying from Jesus on the matter, and not all accepted Paul and some other NT writings.

God the Worker

A biblical theology of work starts with God as the creator of all things. In the OT, the verb bara’ (“to create”) is used only with God as subject. The first verb in the Bible (Gen. 1:1), it occurs also in many other texts that describe God accomplishing what only God can do. Other terms such as yatsar (“to form, fashion”) and ’asah (“to make, do”) are used numerous times throughout the OT with either God or humans as subjects.

These three terms reinforce the portrayal of God as worker in Gen. 1–2 (cf. Isa. 45:7). God creates light and darkness; sky and earth; sun, moon, and stars; land and sea; plant and animal life; and humankind—in sum, all that is. He forms the “man” (Heb. ’adam) from the dust of the ground, bringing him to life by breathing into him the breath of life.

Elsewhere in the OT God is said to build, build up, or rebuild/restore (Heb. banah [e.g., Pss. 102:16; 147:2; Jer. 24:6; Amos 9:11]). Interestingly, God takes a rib from the man, which he then makes (lit., “builds into” [Heb. banah + le]) a woman (Gen. 2:22). He founds (Heb. kun) the earth (Isa. 45:18) and stretches out (Heb. natah) the heavens (Zech. 12:1). Further, wisdom is God’s “craftsman” (Heb. ’amon), taking part in the world’s creation (Prov. 8:30). The NT reveals Christ as the one through whom God creates all things (John 1:1–3; Col. 1:16). This brief sketch suggests the range of ways in which God’s work is described.

Human Labor

Ideally, work is performed as service to God (Col. 3:17, 22–24). Work is one way we express the divine image. God’s creation mandate to fill, subdue, and rule the earth implies work (Gen. 1:26–28), and God places the man in the garden “to work it and take care of it” (Gen. 2:15). The importance of work for human dignity as well as survival undergirds the laws of gleaning that make provision for the poor to gather their own food (e.g., Deut. 24:19–22). The expansion of human technologies and occupations (mela’kah [see Exod. 12:16]) reflects that dignity and God’s own diverse workmanship. Job 28 celebrates human industry and achievement while subordinating all to the prevailing value of wisdom, rooted in “the fear of the Lord.” Given the indispensable role of work within the limits of human life, diligence is commended (Eccles. 3:9–10), idleness condemned (Prov. 10:4; 12:24; 21:5; 2 Thess. 3:6–10). Work is essentially God’s good gift to us in creation.

But work now has negative aspects. In response to Adam’s sin, God curses the ground, introducing “painful toil” into the work cycle (Gen. 3:17–19; 5:29). We now eke out our living by hardship, finding frustration instead of bounty—a lifelong reminder that we are made of dust and will return to dust. The book of Ecclesiastes echoes this note of futility and raises sharp questions about the lasting value of human labor (1:2–3, 14; 2:4–11, 17–23; 3:9; 4:4–6; 8:16–17). Sin and death haunt the unfolding occupations in Gen. 4, and the episode of the tower of Babel in Gen. 11 signals God’s judgment on human pretension (cf. James 4:13–16). Excessive toil (workaholism) is a pitfall, not a virtue, for it expresses reliance on self rather than on God, who builds, protects, and gives rest (Ps. 127:1–2). Oppressive, unjust working conditions are cause for lament, and they incur God’s judgment (Exod. 5:6–19; Prov. 14:31; James 5:4–6).

Thus, Israel’s labor policy is to reflect God’s covenant faithfulness, generosity, and concern for the vulnerable. Moses’ law places limits on employers/masters to protect employees, slaves, and foreign workers from exploitation. The primary limit is God’s command that Israel keep the Sabbath holy by a complete cessation of labor (Exod. 20:8–11; Deut. 5:12–15). This move prioritizes God’s covenant above human labor and sets a rhythm of work and rest. Exodus grounds the Sabbath in God’s rest from his work of creation on the seventh day. Deuteronomy ties it to Israel’s history of slavery in Egypt and deliverance by God; by keeping the Sabbath, Israel shows gratitude to God and guards against replicating Egypt’s oppressive policies.

Exodus 31–32 portrays work in its best and worst lights. The proper interplay of work and rest is seen in chapter 31, which narrates the divinely empowered work on the tabernacle, followed by a strong reminder to keep the Sabbath as a “sign” between God and Israel. In contrast, chapter 32 portrays artisanship put to the worst use, the making of a golden idol. Aaron fashions gold with a tool and makes the calf image, but later he tells Moses, “I threw [their gold jewelry] into the fire, and out came this calf!” (32:24). This remark anticipates the prophets’ later mockery of idol-makers (e.g., Isa. 44:9–20) and raises the issue of personal responsibility for the outcome of one’s labor: Aaron seeks to avoid being implicated in Israel’s idolatry by concealing his own role in the project.

Public labor issues increase in complexity when Israel adopts human kingship and engages in international trade (e.g., 1 Sam. 8; 1 Kings 9:15–23). Babylon deals a decisive blow to Judah’s statehood by deporting leaders and skilled workers. Many of these establish such viable, productive new lives in Babylon that when Cyrus later allows the exiled Judeans to return, they choose to remain.

The NT assumes the legitimacy of work and adopts the OT’s view that within proper limits work is a good gift of God. Jesus, however, has come to do his Father’s “work” (John 5:16–18), which entails calling some people away from their normal occupations to follow him, as well as a new approach to Sabbath observance (Mark 2:21–27; 3:4). These moves signal the urgency and newness of the kingdom of God. Consequently, the apostles are “co-workers in God’s service” (1 Cor. 3:9), and Christians are “God’s handiwork” (Eph. 2:10). In light of the resurrection, we offer to God work (Gk. ergon) and labor (Gk. kopos), not in futility but in hope (1 Cor. 15:58; cf. Rev. 14:13).

Galatians is often understood as the great letter teaching justification by faith in Christ alone. Paul inveighs against false teachers who teach Christians to supplement the work of Christ with their own keeping of the law as part of earning salvation.

This traditional reading has been powerful and edifying. However, setting Galatians within a plausible ancient social setting reveals further powerful functions of the letter. Galatians turns out to be more than a container delivering the timeless and vital doctrine of salvation by believing and not by doing. The approach to Galatians in this article seeks to establish plausible ancient social settings primarily through exploring a constellation of ancient Mediterranean cultural codes. This contextual orienting helps modern readers appreciate how issues that seem to us bizarre or insignificant might have been issues of life and death to people in different contexts.

Setting and Message

Cultural context. By the time of Galatians (mid-first century AD), a relatively common moral sensitivity existed among the diverse spectrum of Greco-Roman (pagan, Jewish, and Christian) intellectuals: self-mastery (enkrateia). The ideal person led a life of virtue by mastering powerful irrational passions, which led to excessive, weak, irrational, and evil behavior. Although people differed on the means to self-mastery, this general ideal defined broader notions about the successful life. Elites represented the ideal leader as one defined by self-mastery. This qualified such a person to rule others whose capacity for and attainment of self-mastery were inferior, to rule those who cannot even rule themselves. Authority figures projected this characteristic and perpetuated social worlds in which prestige and authority were bound up with the ideal of self-mastery. Many average people also made self-mastery an ideal, whether striving for it in their own lives or allocating authority and prestige to those perceived to have attained it. Various Jewish teachers presented Judaism, especially keeping its laws and studying its sacred writings, as the premier path to self-mastery and thus a happy life. Some pagans also conceived of Judaism, especially some of its laws, along these lines.

Certain Jewish views of Gentiles constitute another important cultural code. Many Jews read the OT as depicting the following concerning Gentiles: They were separated from Israel’s God and his promises for his people, the Jews (Rom. 9:4–5; Eph. 2:11–13; 1 Pet. 2:10). They stood under God’s condemnation, especially because they were idolaters controlled by their passions and sin, lacking self-mastery and the ability to live rightly (Rom. 1:18–32; Eph. 4:17–19; 1 Thess. 4:5; 1 Pet. 1:14, 18). Jews, on the other hand, were by definition God’s special people, whom he had chosen over other nations (Deut. 7:6–8; 10:15; 26:18–19). He had watched over them and would ultimately rescue them. Gentiles would experience covenant blessing in and through Israel if they functionally became Jews by keeping the law, including the parts we understand as ceremonial-ritual law. The law was that special life-giving and regulating aspect of the covenant that God had revealed to Israel, which defined Jews as Jews (Lev. 18:1–5; 20:22–26; Deut. 4:1–8, 32–40; 6:24–25; 8:1–6; 10:12–11:32; 30:11–20; Josh. 1:7–9; Neh. 9:29; Pss. 119; 147:19–20; Ezek. 20:9–13, 21). Such law/Israel-centered conditions for Gentiles relate to a broader OT understanding: God had planned to restore the world through Israel, the locus of his saving activity. God would bless the nations in Abraham’s descendants, Israel (Gen. 12:1–3; 17:4–6; 22:18; 26:4; 28:14). Various passages depict this happening as the nations were subjected to Israel, came to Israel, served Israel, presented Israel with their own wealth and possessions, and/or feared Israel’s God (Gen. 49:8–12; Num. 24:9, 17–19; Isa. 11:10–16; 14:2; 45:23; 49:22–23; 51:4–5; 54:3; 55:5; 60:3–16; 61:5–6; 66:12–13, 18–21; Mic. 7:12–17; Zech. 2:11; 8:22–23). Other passages further elucidate the law-defined nature of such Gentile participation in the God of Israel’s salvation (Gen. 17:9–14; Exod. 12:48; Isa. 2:2–5; 56:1–8; Jer. 12:14–17; Mic. 4:1–5; Zech. 14:16–21). God would condemn Gentiles who remain separate from Israel, especially Gentiles who harm Israel. For many Jews around the time of Galatians, salvation for Gentiles thus remained Israel-centered.

Many ancient Jews also construed the world through apocalyptic views of reality. This understanding conceived of the present visible world as characterized by the influence of evil supernatural beings (demons), suffering, and evil. One day God and his angels would completely triumph in the invisible heavenly reality; the events in this reality determine life in the lower visible world. Then the evil age of the present world of suffering would be over. Evil and suffering would be vanquished, God’s people would be rescued, the agents of suffering in the old age would be judged, the Spirit would be poured out, the nations would come to Israel’s God, and the heavenly reality would fully break in and renew the visible world. God’s people, Israel, would experience ultimate salvation, having been rescued from the evil age. The law remained a defining reality in God’s plans to rescue the world in most Jewish apocalyptic scenarios. Experiencing this salvation remained a matter of being part of God’s righteous people, Israel.

Situation of the letter. With these cultural codes in view, the following situation for the letter of Galatians seems plausible. Paul proclaimed to some of the predominantly Gentile population of Galatia the good news (“gospel”) of the God of Israel’s salvation through Jesus the Messiah (Gal. 1:8–9, 11; 4:13). Some accepted this message of faith and devoted themselves to Jesus and the God of Israel (1:2, 9; 3:1–6; 4:14–20). After Paul left, other Christian teachers came to Galatia. They possibly claimed association with the Jerusalem church and, perhaps, with Peter and James. In line with some of the Jewish views of Gentiles discussed above, they taught that the Gentile Christians in Galatia must functionally become Jews and keep the law (for other examples of such early Christian teachers, see Acts 11:1–3; 15:1, 5). These other teachers probably drew on Scriptures and traditions about Abraham to make their arguments. The God of Israel would save his people, “the righteous,” and through them the rest of the world, through the relationship that he had initially established with Abraham (Gen. 12:1–3; 17:4–6; 22:18; 26:4; 28:14). The teachers could easily show from the Scriptures that circumcision and the law defined God’s relationship with Abraham and were always intended to do so (17:9–14; 26:5). They, like most contemporary Jewish writers, thought that obedience to the law (26:5) defined Abraham’s faith toward God (15:6). If the Galatians were to be Abraham’s descendants, they too must keep the law and be circumcised like their new father, Abraham. The teachers could also deploy passages from the Scriptures to the effect that everyone who did not keep the law was cursed (Deut. 27:26; cf. Gal. 3:10), but that everyone who kept the law would live (Lev. 18:5; cf. Gal. 3:12). For these teachers, Jesus the Messiah was part of the final stage in the God of Israel’s law-shaped apocalyptic plan to rescue his people (the Jews) and, through them, the nations.

It seems that the teachers also capitalized on the moral sensitivity of self-mastery and the not uncommon understanding of the Jewish law as an ideal means for attaining it. Thus, they also urged the Galatians to keep the law through representing it as a means to attaining the prestigious moral and social ideal of self-mastery. Furthermore, the Galatians may have thought that the law offered them a concrete guide to life because of its numerous detailed prescriptions. It also provided substantive ways for the Galatians to reinforce their identity in the midst of their villages, especially because it commanded practices that could set them apart. As a result, at least some of the Galatian Christians decided to keep the law, perhaps seeking circumcision. They were persuaded that the God of Israel and Jesus only save those within the Jewish space defined by the law. These Galatians sought to keep the law, looking to its power for self-mastery.

Outline

I. Greeting (1:1–5)

II. The Law-Defined Gospel Is a Different Gospel (1:6–10)

III. Paul’s Gospel Is Straight from God (1:11–24)

IV. The Jerusalem Apostles Recognize Paul’s Law-Free Gospel (2:1–10)

V. Paul and Peter on Whether Gentiles Should Live Like Jews (2:11–21)

VI. Works of the Law or Christ’s Faithfulness? (3:1–5)

VII. Paul Addresses the Situation in Galatia (3:6–4:31)

A. Scriptural arguments to answer Paul’s question (3:6–14)

B. Incorporation into Christ means incorporation into Abraham (3:15–29)

C. Heirs versus slaves (4:1–11)

D. The Galatians’ past experience with Paul and the gospel (4:12–20)

E. Heirs versus slaves: Sarah and Hagar (4:21–31)

VIII. Summary and Restatement of Paul’s Argument (5:1–12)

IX. The Faithfulness of Christ and Communal Living (5:13–6:10)

A. Freedom in Christ (5:13–15)

B. Self-mastery (5:16–24)

C. The way of the Spirit and Christ’s cruciform faithfulness (5:25–6:10)

X. Conclusion and Summary (6:11–18)

Structure and Contents

I. Greeting (1:1–5). When Paul hears of this situation among the Galatian churches, he writes them a frustrated letter. He commences by stressing how Jesus, through giving himself for our sins, is God’s means for delivering us from the present evil age (1:3–4). As Paul will make clear, Jesus and the law represent mutually exclusive means of deliverance (3:21–22). In contrast to most Jews, Paul will thus shockingly dissociate the law from the God of Israel’s apocalyptic deliverance.

II. The law-defined gospel is a different gospel (1:6–10). Paul continues by making clear his point of view: despite what the other teachers say, their law-defined gospel is in fact a damnable “different gospel” (1:6–10).

III. Paul’s gospel is straight from God (1:11–24). While the other teachers may claim that their gospel comes from the authoritative Jerusalem church, Paul explains that his gospel comes straight from God and not from other men (1:11–24).

IV. The Jerusalem apostles recognize Paul’s law-free gospel (2:1–10). However, when he had met with the Jerusalem apostles, they had recognized his law-free gospel (1:18–2:10). Indeed, they had not forced Titus to be circumcised (2:3). Also, 1:18–2:10 represents Paul as an embodiment of the radical transforming power of the gospel. Whereas Paul previously had advanced far and zealously “in Judaism,” persecuting the church, now he steadfastly serves the church and boldly stands against Jews who zealously seek to impose the law (“Judaism”) on Gentile Christians.

V. Paul and Peter on whether Gentiles should live like Jews (2:11–21). Paul then narrates an account of an incident that speaks directly to the Galatian situation (2:11–21). Previously in Antioch Peter had acted so as to imply that Gentiles would have to live like Jews (e.g., keep the law) in order to truly be unified with God’s people (2:11–14). Paul, however, has rebuked Peter (2:14). Paul continues with a speech about how Gentiles are made righteous (“justified”) not within the space demarcated by the “works of the law,” but rather within the faithfulness of Jesus the Messiah (2:15–16). The works of the law, or the duties commanded by the law, do not define those who are “righteous”—that is, God’s true people who will be saved. Rather, the faithfulness of Christ defines God’s true people, the ones who believe in Jesus. Here Paul for the first time explicitly dissociates the law from the God of Israel’s apocalyptic salvation in Jesus (the) Christ. The law, which defines Gentiles as “sinners,” has been torn down in Christ’s crucifixion (2:17–18). Paul then presents himself as an embodiment of God’s saving work in Christ. In being crucified with Christ, he has died to the law. Paul no longer lives, but now Christ lives in him. The faithfulness of Christ, who loves him and has given himself for him, now defines Paul’s life, not the law (2:19–20). From a more traditional Jewish perspective, Paul has undermined God’s grace because he has marginalized the law, the premier means of grace and life that God has given to his people. In fact, however, the law is utterly opposed to Christ’s faithful saving death, which is the true means of God’s ultimate saving and gracious actions toward his people (2:21).

This understanding of 2:11–21 revolves around how Paul considers his entire discussion of justification, the faithfulness of Christ, and the words of the law to be dealing with the issue of whether Gentiles should be forced to live like Jews (2:14). This might seem surprising to us. Does this not reduce Paul’s discussion of the great doctrine of justification to dealing merely with social and identity issues? Within the logic of Jewish apocalyptic thought, however, issues of the identity of God’s people and what defines them are by definition ultimate salvation issues, not merely social issues. The God of Israel will rescue only his true people. Thus questions of who really constitutes his true people and how they are defined are paramount, life-and-death, salvation issues. Paul never abandons Jewish apocalyptic salvation logic; he simply redefines it around Christ and not the law.

This reading understands the phrase pistis Christou as “the faithfulness of Christ,” a shorthand reference to Jesus’ faithful saving death on the cross. Traditionally people translate the phrase as “faith in Christ.” In line with much recent scholarship, however, this discussion understands the phrase differently, while still recognizing that Paul considers belief in Christ to be of paramount importance: “so we also have believed in Christ Jesus in order to be justified by the faithfulness of Christ and not by the works of the law” (2:16 [all translations are the author’s]).

VI. Works of the law or Christ’s faithfulness? (3:1–5). So far, Paul has not addressed the powerful scriptural arguments and appeals to the law as a means to self-mastery through which the opposing teachers have gained influence. As becomes clear from the rest of the letter, Paul does not anchor his counterarguments ultimately in interpretations of the Jewish Scriptures, possibly because the scriptural arguments of the opposing teachers would have more cogency. Again, they draw on understandings about Gentiles that they can easily ground in the God of Israel’s sacred writings. Paul instead appeals directly to how the Galatians have experienced salvation initially. Have they received and experienced the workings of the Spirit “out of/from the works of the law, or from the message of (Christ’s) faithfulness” (3:1–5)? Paul, of course, knows that the answer is “from the message of Christ’s faithfulness” (often translated as “hearing with faith”) apart from the works of the law. Paul thus plays a trump card that undercuts the opposing teachers. The Galatians have received the Spirit, a classic end-time blessing for the God of Israel’s people, apart from the law. Thus, in Christ, God’s people clearly cannot be defined by the law (see also Acts 10:44–11:18; 15:6–11). The law-defined gospel of the opposing teachers simply cannot be right, since the Galatians have received the Spirit and experienced salvation apart from the law. One cannot overstate the importance of this obvious argument from the Galatians’ experience for Paul. This settles the entire issue within the logic of his letter. All of Paul’s following arguments using the Jewish Scriptures presuppose that his readings of them, depicting Gentile participation in the God of Israel’s people apart from the law, must be correct, and that the opposing teachers’ arguments from Scripture also must be wrong.

VII. Paul addresses the situation in Galatia (3:6–4:31). For the rest of 3:6–4:31, Paul continues to address the situation in Galatia within the cultural codes and kinds of concerns sketched above. In 3:6–13 Paul launches into a densely packed excursus of scriptural arguments to set up an answer to his rhetorical question “Does he who supplies the Spirit to you and works miracles among you do so out of/from the works of the law, or from the message of (Christ’s) faithfulness?” (3:5). He sets up the answer to his question, which comes in 3:14, by focusing on the nature of the Galatians’ Abra-hamic sonship—that is, the nature of their identity as the God of Israel’s special people. Paul argues that Christ’s faithfulness, and not the law, defines their Abrahamic sonship. Within this excursus it seems plausible that Paul draws upon and undercuts texts that the opposing teachers have used (Lev. 18:5; Deut. 27:26). In 3:15–29 Paul elucidates how the Galatians’ incorporation into Christ through his faithfulness can actually mean that they are incorporated into Abraham, become his descendants, and thus become “heirs according to promise” (3:29).

In 4:1–7 Paul restates parts of his preceding discussion in a different way, introducing the language of slavery. In 4:12–20 Paul returns to reminding the Galatians of their past experience with himself and the gospel. Paul has embodied Christ to them, and they to him. He has brought them Christ in his weakness, and they have accepted him as such. Their turn to the opposing teachers marks a departure from how they first received Paul.

VIII. Summary and restatement of Paul’s argument (5:1–12). In 5:2–6 Paul quickly summarizes the substance of his arguments thus far, while in 5:7–12 he resummarizes the situation.

IX. The faithfulness of Christ and communal living (5:13–6:10). In 5:13–6:10 Paul finally depicts the positive content of the faithfulness of Christ for the Galatians. This section, in which Paul focuses on how the Galatians live communally, has been his driving focus all along. Not only must he offer something in place of the law for self-mastery in order to wrench the Galatians from the influence of the opposing teachers, but also Paul considers it absolutely necessary for the Galatians to live together in ways embodying Christ’s other-oriented, cross-shaped faithfulness (2:19–20; 4:19; 5:13–6:10). Paul does not view the law simply as a neutral, ineffectual means to self-mastery; rather, he thinks that the law will positively work death, slavery, and irrational passions, the things that would bar the Galatians from inheriting the kingdom of God (5:22). Thus, 5:13–6:10 is the most important part of the letter for Paul. All his earlier arguments serve his purposes here.

Paul begins his positive sketch of the faithfulness of Christ in 5:13–15 by talking about their freedom in Christ (5:1). This freedom from the law by no means implies freedom from the obligation to live faithfully. In fact, this freedom paradoxically means freedom for the Galatians to become slaves to one another through love (5:13). This is what Paul means by the cross-shaped faithfulness of Christ defining God’s people. This is what Paul means when he writes that he longs for Christ to be formed in them (4:19). Christ’s faithfulness redefines the law itself, such that becoming slaves to one another through love by loving your neighbor fulfills the whole law (5:14; 6:2). In 5:13–14 Paul thus surprisingly informs the Galatians that freedom in Christ means other-oriented, love-driven (cf. 5:6), cross-shaped freedom. Cross-shaped faithfulness leading them to become slaves to one another through love is the only antidote to their biting and devouring one another (5:15), classic Greco-Roman language for describing the control of irrational passions.

Paul gets more specific in 5:16–25, explicitly moving his discussion within the discourse of self-mastery. His earlier arguments dissociating the Spirit and Christ’s faithfulness from the law inform this passage, as does Paul’s implicit association of the law and the opposing teachers with “flesh” in 4:29. Only by the Spirit can the Galatians overcome the desires of the flesh (5:16–17). In 5:18–19 Paul makes clear his association of the law with the desires of the flesh, especially in 5:19, where he speaks of the “works of the flesh,” an obvious play on his frequent phrase “works of the law.” The works of the flesh in 5:19–21 read like a catalog of the vices with which broader Greco-Roman moral discourse characterizes people who lack self-mastery. People who engage in such vices, who lack the struggle to self-mastery empowered by the Spirit, “will not inherit the kingdom of God” (5:21). Paul then spells out the positive content of the faithfulness of Christ for the Galatians in terms of the fruit of the Spirit. He concludes this list of virtues, which characterize people who have the Spirit, with enkrateia, “self-mastery” (5:22–23). He continues, “And the ones who belong to Christ have crucified the flesh, with its passions and desires” (5:24). Paul’s language here seems reminiscent of his earlier self-representation as one who has been crucified with Christ (2:19–20; see also 6:14–15). The Spirit, who belongs exclusively to those who are God’s children through Christ’s faithfulness and not the law (3:14; 4:4–6), empowers the Galatians to attain self-mastery. Not only does the law fail to help them attain self-mastery, but also, as part of the old “evil” age, it works with the desires of the flesh to produce everything contrary to self-mastery, everything that disqualifies people from inheriting the kingdom of God.

Paul continues in 5:25–6:10, stressing the way of the Spirit and Christ’s cruciform faithfulness. In 6:6–10 Paul underlines the ultimate importance of the Galatians living in accordance with the Spirit and not the flesh. For Paul, this does not imply that salvation and self-mastery result from the Galatians’ own autonomous effort. That would miss the point entirely. Only Christ’s faithfulness and the Spirit can bring about the cross-shaped lives and self-mastery of which Paul speaks. Apart from Christ’s faithfulness and the Spirit, the Galatians would remain people mastered by their passions and desires and cut off from God’s salvation and blessings, since they would not be Abraham’s descendants in Christ. At the same time, Paul writes the letter with such passion because he is convinced that where Christ’s other-oriented, cross-shaped faithfulness and self-mastery do not characterize people, God’s saving blessings are absent as well. Thus Paul “is again in the anguish of childbirth” until Christ is formed in them (4:19).

X. Conclusion and summary (6:11–18). Paul concludes in 6:11–18, summarizing most of his main points. The law and circumcision now count for nothing; only faithfulness working through love and new creation in Christ count for anything (5:6; 6:15).

For Paul in Galatians, the other-oriented, cross-shaped faithfulness of Christ offers a more concrete communal identity and practical way to life than the law ever could. The faithfulness of Christ and Spirit define the Galatians as a people of the new creation. Justification in Galatians involves more than the traditional doctrine. It involves the unification associated with the fruit of the Spirit, not the division and strife of the works of the flesh/law. It relates to and establishes the conditions for the radical and tangible other-oriented and cross-shaped communal faithfulness (of Christ) that must define God’s people.

Common and valuable for food, beans were cooked while green in the pods or after being dried. Dry beans were threshed and winnowed like cereals and other grains. Beans are mentioned twice in the NIV (2 Sam. 17:28; Ezek. 4:9).

The English word derives from the Latin omnis (“all”) and sciens (“knowing”). Though not found in Scripture, the term accurately describes an exclusively divine attribute. God has perfect infinite knowledge of himself and everything actual and possible (1 Sam. 23:8–13; Job 37:16; Pss. 33:13–15; 139:2–6, 11–12; 147:5; Prov. 15:3; Isa. 40:14; 46:10; Dan. 2:22; Matt. 11:21–23; John 21:17; Acts 15:18; 1 Cor. 2:10–11; Heb. 4:13; 1 John 3:20). God’s omniscience is eternal, encompassing all things past, present, and future. It includes complete knowledge of all human choices, the occurrence of all events, and the outworking of all contingencies.

Common and valuable for food, beans were cooked while green in the pods or after being dried. Dry beans were threshed and winnowed like cereals and other grains. Beans are mentioned twice in the NIV (2 Sam. 17:28; Ezek. 4:9).

Common and valuable for food, beans were cooked while green in the pods or after being dried. Dry beans were threshed and winnowed like cereals and other grains. Beans are mentioned twice in the NIV (2 Sam. 17:28; Ezek. 4:9).

A collection of 150 poems. They are the hymnbook of the OT period, used in public worship. Psalms contains songs of different lengths, types, and dates. The earliest psalm (Ps. 90) is attributed to Moses (mid-second millennium BC), while the content of Ps. 126 and Ps. 137 points to the latest periods of the OT (mid-first millennium BC). They continue to be used as a source of public worship and private devotion.

Historical Background

Most psalms have a title. In the Hebrew text this title comprises the first verse, whereas English translations set it off before the first verse. Titles vary. Many name an author (e.g., David [Ps. 3]; Asaph [Ps. 77]; sons of Korah [Ps. 42]), while others provide information about genre (e.g., Psalms of Ascent [Pss. 120–134]), tune (e.g., “Do Not Destroy” [Ps. 75]), use in worship (Ps. 92), and a circumstance that led to composition (Ps. 51). Information in the title gives hints concerning how psalms were written and brought into a final collection.

Composition

As mentioned, the titles of the psalms often give indications of authorship and occasionally name the circumstance that led to the writing of the psalm. A good example is Ps. 51, where the title states, “For the director of music. A psalm of David. When the prophet Nathan came to him after David had committed adultery with Bathsheba.” The title connects the psalm with the events recorded in 2 Sam. 11–12 and suggests that David wrote the song in response to his sin and Nathan’s confrontation.

Although only a handful of the psalms have such a historical title, it is likely that most psalms were composed in response to some specific circumstance that encouraged the author to write. Interestingly, though, the psalmists do not speak about the specific circumstance in the psalm itself. Psalm 51, for instance, fits perfectly with the situation that the title describes in that it expresses guilt toward God and asks for forgiveness, but nowhere does it speak specifically about adultery. The psalmists do this intentionally because they are writing the song not as a memorial to an event, but rather as a prayer that others who have had similar though not identical experiences can use after them. Thus, Ps. 51 has been used as a model prayer for many penitents, whether they have sinned like David or in another way.

Most modern hymns have a similar background. John Newton, for instance, was inspired to write “Amazing Grace” because of awe that he felt at his conversion to Christianity from the evil of being a slave trader. However, when he wrote it, he wanted others to sing it as reflecting not on his conversion but on their own.

Collection

The psalms were composed over a thousand-year period. Thus, it appears that the book of Psalms was a growing collection until it came to a close at an unknown time between the writing of the two Testaments.

In 1 Chron. 16:7–36 we may get a glimpse of how the process worked. The text describes David turning a musical composition over to the Levitical musician Asaph and his associates. It is likely that the priests kept an official copy of the book of Psalms in the holy place (the temple while it stood). The psalms, after all, were the hymns of ancient Israel. Their primary function was as a corporate book of prayer, though certainly they could be used in private devotions (note Hannah’s prayer in 1 Sam. 2:1–10 and its relationship to Ps. 113).

Organization and Structure

The psalms have no obvious organization that explains the location of all the psalms. They are not organized in terms of genre, authorship, time of composition, or length. There is only one statement about organization, found in Ps. 72:20: “This concludes the prayers of David son of Jesse.” In the light of this comment, it is surprising that a number of Davidic psalms appear in subsequent sections (Pss. 101; 103; 108–110; 122; 124; 131; 133; 138–145). The best explanation is that at one point Ps. 72 concluded the Davidic psalms, but there was a reorganization before the canonical order was permanently closed.

A number of contemporary theories try to find some deep structure to the book, but it is best to refrain from speculation in regard to the overall structure. Nonetheless, a few structural characteristics are obvious. First, the division of Psalms into five books seems to reflect the fivefold division of the Pentateuch:

I. Book 1 (Pss. 1–41)

II. Book 2 (Pss. 42–72)

III. Book 3 (Pss. 73–89)

IV. Book 4 (Pss. 90–106)

V. Book 5 (Pss. 107–150)

Each book ends with a doxology. Such an intentional association with the Pentateuch would lend support to the Psalter’s claim to authority. Although these are prayers to God, they are also God’s word.

Second, within the Psalter there are subcollections. That is, there are psalms that came into the book not individually but as a group. The best-known such group are the Psalms of Ascent (Pss. 120–134), probably so named because worshipers sang them while going up (ascending) to the Temple Mount during one of the annual religious festivals in Jerusalem.

Third, it appears that psalms are intentionally placed at the beginning and at the end of the book to serve as an introduction and a conclusion. Psalms 1–2 serve as an introduction that alerts the reader to the twin important themes of law and messiah. Psalm 1 pronounces a blessing on those who love God’s law. The psalms, after all, are an intimate and personal conversation with God. One must be on the side of the godly to enter such a holy textual space, just as one must be godly to enter the precincts of the temple. After the reader enters, Psalm 2 provides an encounter with God and his anointed one (messiah). At the end of the book, the last five psalms (Pss. 146–150) constitute a tremendous doxology of praise.

This leads to the final observation on structure. Psalms of lament predominate at the beginning of the book, but they give way to hymns of praise toward the end. It is almost as if one enters the Psalter mourning and leaves it praising. Indeed, the Psalter brings the reader into contact with God and thus transforms the reader from sadness to joy.

Literary Considerations

Genre. The individual psalms may be identified as songs, prayers, or poems. Specifically, they are lyric poems (expressing the emotions of the poet), often addressed to God, and set to musical accompaniment. Although the categories overlap, seven different types of psalms can be recognized, with the first three being by far the most common.

• Lament. The largest single group of psalms are the laments, characterized by the expression of unhappy emotions: sadness, disappointment, anger, worry. The lamenters call on God to save them, even while at times complaining about God’s actions toward them (Ps. 42:9–10). Some laments contain petitions for forgiveness (Ps. 51), while others assert innocence of any wrongdoing (Ps. 26). A few laments even contain curses directed toward the enemies who are trying to harm the psalmist (Ps. 69:19–28). Most laments end by praising God or reaffirming confidence in God (Ps. 130:7–8). Usually the reason for the change from mourning to rejoicing is not given, but Ps. 77 pinpoints the reason as the memory of God’s great salvation events in the past (vv. 10, 16–20). One psalm, Ps. 88, laments but never makes the turn, remaining in the pit of despair. Yet even here we have a glimmer of hope in that the one who laments is still speaking to God.

• Thanksgiving. When God answers a lament, the response is thanksgiving. Psalms of thanksgiving are very similar to hymns (see below), but they cite an earlier problem that God has addressed. Psalm 30 praises God for restoring the psalmist’s good fortune and health after he suffered due to his earlier arrogance that led him to forget God (vv. 6–7).

• Hymn. Hymns are psalms of unalloyed praise directed toward God. The psalmists often call for others to join their worship of God (Ps. 100).

• Remembrance. While many psalms evoke memories of God’s actions in the past (as the lament in Ps. 77 recalls the exodus), certain psalms focus on rehearsing the actions of God in the past. Psalm 136 is one of the most memorable examples. As a liturgical psalm, it recites a divine action (“[God] swept Pharaoh and his army into the Red Sea” [v. 15]) followed by a congregational response (“His love endures forever”).

• Confidence. These psalms are defined by their mood of quiet trust in God even in the midst of trouble. They often present a reassuring image of God. The picture of God as a shepherd in Ps. 23 or as a mother in Ps. 131 are good examples.

• Wisdom. Some psalms meditate on the law (Pss. 1; 119) or have interests similar to those of wisdom literature, such as Job, Proverbs, and Ecclesiastes (Pss. 49; 73).

• Kingship. A number of psalms praise God as king (Ps. 47) or the human king as his agent (Pss. 20–21) or both (Ps. 2).

Style. The psalms are poems, and so their style is characterized by the use of parallelism and figurative language. Poetry is also notable for its short lines. A poet packs a lot of meaning into very few words. So it is important to slow down and reflect on a psalm in order to derive its maximum effect. Besides brevity of expression, parallelism, and figurative language, poets create interest by using other literary tools. The psalmists use these poetic devices not only to inform their readers’ intellect but also to stimulate their imagination and arouse their emotions. (See also Acrostic; Imagery; Poetry.)

Theological Message

Although the psalms are not theological essays, readers can learn about God and their relationship with God from these poems. The book of Psalms is a bit like a portrait gallery of God, using images to describe who he is and the nature of our relationship with him. Some examples include God as shepherd (Ps. 23), king (Ps. 47), warrior (Ps. 98), and mother (Ps. 131), and the list could be greatly expanded. Each one of these picture images casts light on the nature of God and also the nature of our relationship with God. After all, the aforementioned psalms explicitly or implicitly describe God’s people as sheep, subjects, soldiers, and children.

Connection to the New Testament and Today

Jesus himself draws attention to Psalms as a book that anticipated his coming suffering and glorification (Luke 24:25–27, 44). The Gospels recognized that Jesus’ zeal for God was well expressed by Ps. 69:9 (John 2:17). When at the apex of his suffering on the cross, Jesus uttered the words found in Ps. 22:1 (Matt. 27:46). The NT writers also saw that Jesus was the fulfillment of the covenant that promised that a son of David would have an everlasting throne (2 Sam. 7:16). Accordingly, the royal psalms (e.g., Pss. 2; 110) often were applied to Jesus, who is the Messiah (the Christ, “the anointed one”).

Today we read Psalms not only as an ancient witness to the coming work of Christ but also, as John Calvin put it, as a mirror of our souls. The psalms were written for worshipers who came after them with similar though not identical joys and problems. The psalms should become models of our prayers.

God is the all-powerful, all-knowing, morally perfect creator of the universe; and we are his creatures—no less, but also no more. Thus, an unimaginable distance must exist between God and us; and this fact has led some theologians to despair of knowing anything about him for sure, not even that he actually has these attributes of deity. It might seem, furthermore, that some biblical texts encourage such a view. Psalm 92:5 recognizes the distance: “How great are your works, O Lord, how profound your thoughts!” Psalm 145:3 says that “no one can fathom” God’s greatness. According to Ps. 147:5, “Great is our Lord and mighty in power; his understanding has no limit.” In Ps. 139:6, David tries to comprehend God’s perfect insight and concludes, “Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.” The doxology of Rom. 11:33–36 exults in the uniqueness of God: “Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable his judgments, and his paths beyond tracing out!” In Isa. 55:9, God says, “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.” Based on these passages and others, and knowing what the difference between creator and creature must generally imply, one might suspect that we can know nothing of substance about God.

In fact, however, the biblical writers tell a different story, being cautiously optimistic about theology’s prospects. On the one hand, they note our creaturely limitations and God’s transcendence, as seen above. We cannot fully comprehend our Creator. We never will, not even through the eons of eternity. God will always have something more to show us about himself, more that we can learn and adore. In that sense, the biblical writers are cautious about what theology can grasp. On the other hand, we must be able to learn some things about God; otherwise, the Scriptures themselves would not exist, since they tell us about God and much else besides. Divine omnipotence, therefore, includes the ability to produce in us adequate theological understanding. We always lean on God, and no one understands him at all apart from his initiative. He remains sovereign over this event, as with any other. But God has made himself known in two general ways, according to Scripture.

General and Special Revelation

First, the biblical writers expect each of us to grasp something of God’s nature, based on what is called “general revelation.” General revelation operates in a broadcasted way, so to speak, relying upon commonplace experience and the latter’s God-given ability to make us aware of his existence and nature. We all see the heavens that “declare the glory of God” (Ps. 19:1). Paul argues that every person can detect the “invisible qualities” of God, his “eternal power and divine nature,” in what he has created, so that we have no excuse for decadent theology and behavior (Rom. 1:20). The law of God is “written on [our] hearts” (Rom. 2:15), so that we grasp what we owe to him and each other. Even though God has not spoken directly to every nation, “he has not left himself without testimony”; he has shown all people “kindness by giving [them] rain from heaven and crops in their seasons” (Acts 14:17). We can learn some things about God from these sources given to us, and thus we are accountable for right conduct in relationship to them. However, general revelation lacks the detail and assurance of what is called “special revelation.”

Special revelation differs from general revelation in having a target audience. It conveys information about God, human beings, and our world that cannot be deduced from everyday, highly accessible experience. Jesus suffered for our sins. Our trust in his death on the cross will save us. God is a Trinity of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, though there is one God. Christ will return in power and glory to judge all nations. We can think of God as our heavenly Father, a morally perfect deity who cares about the individual person. The Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness as we wonder how to pray. God is always sovereign, even over the wicked deeds of human beings and the suffering that they cause. These are essential points of Christian doctrine. Yet we cannot substantiate any of them by carefully observing ourselves, our world, or the facts of history. Indeed, sometimes our own thoughts lead us to resist these claims because they entail great mysteries. One can easily (but wrongly) equate “I do not understand this” with “This is false.” Thus, our knowledge of these doctrines rests upon God’s willingness to speak and our readiness to hear what he says with humility and trust, without having all our questions answered. The vehicle for this latter kind of knowledge is called “special revelation.”

All revelation is “special,” simply because we can learn nothing about God apart from his self-disclosure. However, theologians use the technical term “special revelation” to capture the idea that God has revealed some matters of doctrine only to specific people, with the expectation that they will preach these truths to others as he requires them to do. These doctrinal matters include the claims given above concerning some aspects of God’s nature, his attitude toward human beings, the plan of salvation, and so forth. Thus, the Bible is special revelation par excellence; likewise, the preaching of prophets, Jesus, and then his chosen apostles (to list them in chronological order) is special revelation. Of course, since we do not have access to prophetic teaching and the life and words of Christ apart from Scripture, the latter is our sole source of special revelation. We cannot now see and hear Jesus as his first-century observers did, but we encounter him as the incarnate Word through the inerrant written word of Scripture. Theology, therefore, concerns what the Bible says about God, humanity, Christ, and so forth, and it looks to general revelation, if at all, merely to corroborate or illustrate what Scripture substantiates. Likewise, the promises of God to bless the preaching of his truth attach to special revelation rather than to what one might glean from other sources (Isa. 55:11).

The Bible as Special Revelation

The Bible stands alone in revealing who God is and showing what pleases him. Its exact contents were ordained by God through inspiration. Scripture is “God-breathed” (2 Tim. 3:16), having been produced when people “spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit” (2 Pet. 1:21). Consequently, even though prophecy occurs in NT churches (1 Cor. 14), it is not received there as the unchallengeable teaching of OT prophets, Jesus, or his apostles. Rather, observers are to weigh carefully what prophets say (1 Cor. 14:29). John expressly warns of false prophecy in the churches: “Dear friends, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, because many false prophets have gone out into the world” (1 John 4:1). These facts should lead one to be cautious in using such phrases as “God told me that . . . ” and in urging other Christians to act upon anyone’s private sensations of being led by the Spirit, absent any objective reasons for doing so. Prophecy given by the Holy Spirit today should involve the application of biblical truth to present challenges and opportunities. The same principle applies to subjective promptings from the Holy Spirit. They should apply received doctrine without revising it and must always be tested by the church.

The sixty-six books of the Bible were written by real people, living in concrete historical settings, and using ordinary language. Yet they intend to speak of heavenly things and of a holy God. Consequently, theologians face the challenge of “seeing through” the Bible’s figurative statements and artistic forms to the truths they convey, but without landing in unhelpful abstractions. Most people who read the book of Exodus assume that God does not have an actual “arm” to outstretch (6:6) or a “face” that one may not see and live (33:23). But Moses chose these words to reveal something about God, and thus we have to ask how far the analogy goes and to what degree it reaches down to our human level of understanding. We know that God must somehow “talk down” to us, using our own language, even as he gives us historical and theological claims having real content. Balancing these two realities—the “otherness” of God and the earthiness of the written, human word that reveals him—is the delicate task of exegesis.

The interpreter must also negotiate the various kinds or genres of literature found in the Bible, especially the ones that seem most alien to our own ways of communicating. Our own documents do not (usually) feature the elaborate images of the book of Revelation or the structures of Hebrew poetry found in the Psalter, and we do not live in the first-century world. Therefore, to read the Scriptures correctly, we must become culturally literate, so that we see our texts through ancient Near Eastern and Greco-Roman eyes. These fields are studied with care, based on the assumption that the Bible’s forms of literature were customary for their own time. They were not entirely strange to their original audiences. Thus, they can become less strange to us; and since the Bible is fully human as well as fully divine, reading its pages through the appropriate cultural lenses will give us access to what the Spirit says to the churches.

Human Limitations

An analysis of general and special revelation should consider the so-called noetic effects of sin—that is, the effects that sin has upon our ability to reason and to learn. Human beings were created in the image of God (Gen. 1:26–27), having the capacity to interact with their Creator. They bear some “family resemblance” to God, notwithstanding their materiality and finitude. But when Adam and Eve sinned, they corrupted themselves and their descendants, so much so that Paul can describe them as being enslaved to sin and death (Rom. 5–6). Since the fall, the biblical writers have proclaimed the blindness of human beings to the things of God. All people are “under the power of sin,” and “there is no one who understands” (Rom. 3:9–11). In Eph. 2:1–3 Paul describes unrepentant sinners as being “dead in [their] transgressions and sins,” so that they follow carnal “desires and thoughts.” Even someone as naturally qualified as Nicodemus fails to see who Jesus is apart from the sovereign power of the Holy Spirit (John 3:1–15). Fallen human beings do not see what they ought to see and grasp what they ought to grasp. They can even say in their hearts, “There is no God” (Ps. 14:1).

Human beings do not have 20/20 intellectual vision, and our desires are corrupted. Consequently, we do not benefit from God’s self-revelation as Adam did, not to mention the glorified Christian who knows fully (1 Cor. 13:12). In some cases, the sinner does not want to acknowledge the disclosures of God and thus does not perceive them. Habitual sin and doc-trin-al innovation can “sear” the conscience as with an iron, making “hypocritical liars” impervious to sound teaching (1 Tim. 4:2). Although the heavens declare the glory of God, and although “in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son” (Heb. 1:2), fallen human beings will not grasp these truths. Yet they remain accountable to God because the disabling wounds of sin are self-inflicted. Even the demons of Scripture, who identify Jesus accurately, recoil from what they clearly perceive (Matt. 8:29; Mark 3:11; 5:7), as do the Pharisees who attribute the Spirit’s work to Beelzebul (Matt. 12:22–32). In these cases, the difficulty is not cognitive but affective. Character becomes intellectual destiny.

The world abounds with religious viewpoints, each one claiming to reveal how it works and what constitutes the good life. It is also unlikely that each of them contains only false statements and no true ones. On the contrary, the major rivals to Christianity gain some converts, we may assume, by including fractions of truth and addressing some perceived human needs. Islam is not wrong in its rejection of polytheism and idolatry. Buddhism is right in its belief that suffering raises key philosophical questions. However, we should avoid saying that God has actually revealed something of his nature through these sources, as if their existence were a subset of general revelation. Paul may note the Athenians’ religiosity and illustrate a point by quoting one of their poets (Acts 17:22, 28), but his overall polemic makes it clear that he views their ideas as mistaken responses to general revelation. Similar remarks would apply to cults that mix some orthodoxy, based on Scripture, with enough error to pervert the whole. God is not speaking indistinctly through them; rather, they are mishandling what he has said through the biblical writers. In this sense, therefore, the Bible stands alone as the unique word of God.

God the Worker

A biblical theology of work starts with God as the creator of all things. In the OT, the verb bara’ (“to create”) is used only with God as subject. The first verb in the Bible (Gen. 1:1), it occurs also in many other texts that describe God accomplishing what only God can do. Other terms such as yatsar (“to form, fashion”) and ’asah (“to make, do”) are used numerous times throughout the OT with either God or humans as subjects.

These three terms reinforce the portrayal of God as worker in Gen. 1–2 (cf. Isa. 45:7). God creates light and darkness; sky and earth; sun, moon, and stars; land and sea; plant and animal life; and humankind—in sum, all that is. He forms the “man” (Heb. ’adam) from the dust of the ground, bringing him to life by breathing into him the breath of life.

Elsewhere in the OT God is said to build, build up, or rebuild/restore (Heb. banah [e.g., Pss. 102:16; 147:2; Jer. 24:6; Amos 9:11]). Interestingly, God takes a rib from the man, which he then makes (lit., “builds into” [Heb. banah + le]) a woman (Gen. 2:22). He founds (Heb. kun) the earth (Isa. 45:18) and stretches out (Heb. natah) the heavens (Zech. 12:1). Further, wisdom is God’s “craftsman” (Heb. ’amon), taking part in the world’s creation (Prov. 8:30). The NT reveals Christ as the one through whom God creates all things (John 1:1–3; Col. 1:16). This brief sketch suggests the range of ways in which God’s work is described.

Human Labor

Ideally, work is performed as service to God (Col. 3:17, 22–24). Work is one way we express the divine image. God’s creation mandate to fill, subdue, and rule the earth implies work (Gen. 1:26–28), and God places the man in the garden “to work it and take care of it” (Gen. 2:15). The importance of work for human dignity as well as survival undergirds the laws of gleaning that make provision for the poor to gather their own food (e.g., Deut. 24:19–22). The expansion of human technologies and occupations (mela’kah [see Exod. 12:16]) reflects that dignity and God’s own diverse workmanship. Job 28 celebrates human industry and achievement while subordinating all to the prevailing value of wisdom, rooted in “the fear of the Lord.” Given the indispensable role of work within the limits of human life, diligence is commended (Eccles. 3:9–10), idleness condemned (Prov. 10:4; 12:24; 21:5; 2 Thess. 3:6–10). Work is essentially God’s good gift to us in creation.

But work now has negative aspects. In response to Adam’s sin, God curses the ground, introducing “painful toil” into the work cycle (Gen. 3:17–19; 5:29). We now eke out our living by hardship, finding frustration instead of bounty—a lifelong reminder that we are made of dust and will return to dust. The book of Ecclesiastes echoes this note of futility and raises sharp questions about the lasting value of human labor (1:2–3, 14; 2:4–11, 17–23; 3:9; 4:4–6; 8:16–17). Sin and death haunt the unfolding occupations in Gen. 4, and the episode of the tower of Babel in Gen. 11 signals God’s judgment on human pretension (cf. James 4:13–16). Excessive toil (workaholism) is a pitfall, not a virtue, for it expresses reliance on self rather than on God, who builds, protects, and gives rest (Ps. 127:1–2). Oppressive, unjust working conditions are cause for lament, and they incur God’s judgment (Exod. 5:6–19; Prov. 14:31; James 5:4–6).

Thus, Israel’s labor policy is to reflect God’s covenant faithfulness, generosity, and concern for the vulnerable. Moses’ law places limits on employers/masters to protect employees, slaves, and foreign workers from exploitation. The primary limit is God’s command that Israel keep the Sabbath holy by a complete cessation of labor (Exod. 20:8–11; Deut. 5:12–15). This move prioritizes God’s covenant above human labor and sets a rhythm of work and rest. Exodus grounds the Sabbath in God’s rest from his work of creation on the seventh day. Deuteronomy ties it to Israel’s history of slavery in Egypt and deliverance by God; by keeping the Sabbath, Israel shows gratitude to God and guards against replicating Egypt’s oppressive policies.

Exodus 31–32 portrays work in its best and worst lights. The proper interplay of work and rest is seen in chapter 31, which narrates the divinely empowered work on the tabernacle, followed by a strong reminder to keep the Sabbath as a “sign” between God and Israel. In contrast, chapter 32 portrays artisanship put to the worst use, the making of a golden idol. Aaron fashions gold with a tool and makes the calf image, but later he tells Moses, “I threw [their gold jewelry] into the fire, and out came this calf!” (32:24). This remark anticipates the prophets’ later mockery of idol-makers (e.g., Isa. 44:9–20) and raises the issue of personal responsibility for the outcome of one’s labor: Aaron seeks to avoid being implicated in Israel’s idolatry by concealing his own role in the project.

Public labor issues increase in complexity when Israel adopts human kingship and engages in international trade (e.g., 1 Sam. 8; 1 Kings 9:15–23). Babylon deals a decisive blow to Judah’s statehood by deporting leaders and skilled workers. Many of these establish such viable, productive new lives in Babylon that when Cyrus later allows the exiled Judeans to return, they choose to remain.

The NT assumes the legitimacy of work and adopts the OT’s view that within proper limits work is a good gift of God. Jesus, however, has come to do his Father’s “work” (John 5:16–18), which entails calling some people away from their normal occupations to follow him, as well as a new approach to Sabbath observance (Mark 2:21–27; 3:4). These moves signal the urgency and newness of the kingdom of God. Consequently, the apostles are “co-workers in God’s service” (1 Cor. 3:9), and Christians are “God’s handiwork” (Eph. 2:10). In light of the resurrection, we offer to God work (Gk. ergon) and labor (Gk. kopos), not in futility but in hope (1 Cor. 15:58; cf. Rev. 14:13).

Common and valuable for food, beans were cooked while green in the pods or after being dried. Dry beans were threshed and winnowed like cereals and other grains. Beans are mentioned twice in the NIV (2 Sam. 17:28; Ezek. 4:9).