Anxiety is an inner disposition of restlessness over feared or uncontrollable outcomes, and it can have debilitating effects (Ps. 139:23; Prov. 12:25). Its opposite is not carelessness or apathy but rather confident trust in God (Ps. 37; Isa. 26:3–4). Jesus teaches his disciples to trust God’s daily care as a radical alternative to anxiety (Matt. 6:25–34; cf. Eccles. 2:22), and Jesus’ instruction and preparation free them from anxiety over future trials (Matt. 24:25; Mark 13:11). Scripture invites us to move from anxiety to peace by means of prayer (Pss. 94:19; 139:23; Phil. 4:6; 1 Pet. 5:7).

The phrase “book of life” occurs eight times in the Bible (Ps. 69:28; Phil. 4:3; Rev. 3:5; 13:8; 17:8; 20:12, 15; 21:27). The image may originate from the practice of keeping genealogical records or a registry of citizens in which the names of individuals were recorded. Some have suggested that it is a figurative record of all the living, from which the unsaved are eventually erased. But more likely the phrase metaphorically expresses the omniscience of God, who knows all those whom he has predestined to eternal life. In Ps. 69:28 being “blotted out” of the Book of Life probably refers to the fate of experiencing a premature earthly death (cf. Exod. 32:32–33). But since it applies to God’s enemies, it also carries with it the overtones of eternal damnation. The promise made to those who overcome that they will not be blotted out of the Book of Life assures them of their final victory (Rev. 3:5; cf. John 5:24–25). At the final judgment, those not found written in the Book of Life are destined to eternal separation from God in the lake of fire (Rev. 20:12–15). The final use of the phrase in “the Lamb’s book of life” indicates that the record belongs to Christ, who purchased the redemption of all those found recorded in the book (Rev. 21:27). For similar phrases and concepts, see Pss. 9:5; 51:1; 139:16; Isa. 4:3; Dan. 7:10; 12:1; Mal. 3:16; Luke 10:20; Heb. 12:23.

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.

The common Hebrew word for “scroll” is seper (Exod. 17:14; Num. 5:23; Deut. 17:18). The later term megillah can also refer to a scroll (Jer. 36:6; Ezek. 3:3). In a few cases megillah is combined with seper and translated as “scroll” (Ps. 40:7; Jer. 36:2; Ezek. 2:9).

The LXX commonly translates the Hebrew word seper (scroll) with the Greek word biblion (“scroll” or “book”), and the NT uses the same word. When Paul wrote to Timothy asking him to bring the parchments, he also requested that he bring ta biblia, “the books” (2 Tim. 4:13; NIV: “scrolls”). English translations often are inconsistent in the way they translate the Hebrew term seper or the Greek biblion.

Books and scrolls in antiquity. During Old and New Testament times, the two most common writing materials for ancient books or scrolls were papyrus and parchment. Papyrus was made from the papyrus reed stalk that grew abundantly in Egypt and around the Mediterranean. Two thin layers of the pith were laid at right angles to each other and pressed together, then the sheets or leaves were pasted together to form a roll. The other common type of writing material, parchment, was made of leather that had been scraped and stretched.

Text was written on the parchment or papyrus in columns, and the scroll was unrolled and rolled back up as one read through the columns. Jeremiah’s first edition of prophecy was written on a parchment scroll (Jer. 36). Parchment was also the common material used to write documents at Qumran. Scrolls made of parchment were more expensive than those made of papyrus.

It is in fact anachronistic when English translations refer to a scroll as a “book.” A “book” with pages (or leaves) and bound along the side did not appear until well after the third century BC. This new type of writing medium was called a “codex,” and its origin most likely came from wooden tablets covered with wax and bound together. Later papyrus or parchment leaves were folded and sewn together to form an inexpensive personal “notebook.” Letters and notes often were written on this early type of book.

In the Roman world the earliest codex to contain literary works dates to the first century AD. In 1930 the American collector Chester Beatty acquired a group of Greek papyrus manuscripts on the antiquities market. The collection contained portions of seven codices from the OT (Genesis, Numbers, Deuteronomy, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Daniel, Esther, Ecclesiastes) and three from the NT (the Gospels with Acts, the Pauline Epistles, Revelation). These important codices were copied in the second and third centuries AD.

Perhaps because the papyrus codex was cheaper to make, the early Christian church adopted it and made it popular. No codices have been found among the DSS. Scrolls continued to be the dominant medium for biblical books in the Jewish world until the tenth century AD. Only Torah scrolls are used in synagogues today. (See also Writing Implements and Materials.)

Books mentioned in the Bible. The Bible refers to a large number of distinct books that existed at various times and places. Unfortunately, these extrabiblical books did not survive, but the authors of Scripture knew about them and may have quoted them or employed them in writing biblical history. Below is a list of nonbiblical literary works mentioned in the Bible.

• The Book of the Covenant (Exod. 24:7; 2 Kings 23:2, 21; 2 Chron. 34:30).

• The Book of the Law (Deut. 30:10; 31:26; Josh. 1:8; 8:34; 2 Kings 22:8; Gal. 3:10). This is also called the Book of the Law of Moses (Josh. 23:6; cf. Mark 12:26) and the Book of the Law of God (Josh. 24:26).

• The Book of the Wars of the Lord (Num. 21:14). Quotations from this source may include Num. 21:14b–15, 17–18, 27–30.

• The Book of Jashar (Josh. 10:13; 2 Sam. 1:18). This text contained David’s lament for Saul and Jonathan (2 Sam. 1:19–27) and most likely Joshua’s statement (Josh. 10:12).

• The scroll of Joshua (Josh. 18:9).

• The book of the annals of Solomon (1 Kings 11:41).

• The book of the annals of the kings of Israel (1 Kings 14:19). This source is mentioned eighteen times in 1–2 Kings.

• The book of the annals of the kings of Judah (1 Kings 14:29). This scroll is mentioned fifteen times in 1–2 Kings.

• Genealogical records from the reigns of Jotham king of Judah and Jeroboam king of Israel (1 Chron. 5:17).

• The book of the kings of Israel and Judah (1 Chron. 9:1; 2 Chron. 27:7).

• The book of the kings of Israel, which includes the annals of Jehu son of Hanani (2 Chron. 20:34). This may be the same as the book of the kings of Israel and Judah in 1 Chron. 9:1 (see ESV, NRSV).

• The book of the annals of King David (1 Chron. 27:24).

• The records of Samuel the seer (1 Chron. 29:29).

• The records of Nathan the prophet (1 Chron. 29:29; 2 Chron. 9:29).

• The records of Gad the seer (1 Chron. 29:29).

• The prophecy of Ahijah the Shilonite (2 Chron. 9:29).

• The visions of Iddo the seer (2 Chron. 9:29).

• The records of Shemaiah the prophet and of Iddo the seer (2 Chron. 12:15).

• The annotations of the prophet Iddo (2 Chron. 13:22).

• The book of the kings of Judah and Israel (2 Chron. 16:11). This includes information on Hezekiah’s reign in the vision of the prophet Isaiah son of Amoz (2 Chron. 32:32).

• The annotations on the book of the kings (2 Chron. 24:27).

• The annals of the kings of Israel (2 Chron. 33:18).

• The records of the seers (2 Chron. 33:19).

• The genealogical record of those who had been the first to return (Neh. 7:5).

• The book of the annals (Neh. 12:23). This contained genealogical data and possibly other historical material on the returning exiles.

• The book of the annals of the kings of Media and Persia (Esther 10:2; cf. Esther 2:23; 6:1; Ezra 4:15).

• The book of life (Ps. 69:28; Phil. 4:3; Rev. 3:5; 13:8; 17:8; 20:12, 15; 21:27; cf. Exod. 32:32–33; Ps. 139:16).

• The Book of Truth (Dan. 10:21).

• The scroll of remembrance (Mal. 3:16).

In addition to ocean depths, the biblical text refers to the depths of the earth (Ps. 63:9) and of the grave (86:13). The different terms translated “depths” are employed figuratively to represent God’s incomprehensibility (Job 11:8) and omnipotence, omnipresence, and omniscience (Ps. 95:4), dire and distressing situations (Pss. 30:1; 88:6; 130:1), death and near death (Ps. 71:20; Prov. 9:18), and hidden places, such as the mother’s womb (Ps. 139:15). See also Deep, The.

In the NIV, “fashion” is a verb meaning “to craft, shape, form.” Often it is used pejoratively, as in the crafting of an idol out of wood, stone, or metal (Exod. 32:4; 2 Kings 19:18; Isa. 37:19; 40:19; 44:15; Hos. 13:2). Job speaks of the cunning and scheming of those who think they are wise but are godless: “their womb fashions deceit” (Job 15:35). In a positive sense, items are fashioned for God’s purpose: Aaron’s breastpiece is fashioned by “the work of skilled hands” (Exod. 28:15; cf. 39:8). God is the master craftsman who “fashioned and made the earth” (Isa. 45:18). But God’s fashioning is a synonym for creation rather than crafting; he fashions his work out of nothing.

In the KJV God’s fashioning extends to his creation of human beings (Job 10:8; 31:15; Ps. 119:73), his oversight of the human heart (Ps. 33:15), his ordaining of a person’s life span (Ps. 139:16), and his transformative work in the glorification of believers (Phil. 3:21).

The most common noun usage for the word “fashion” in the KJV OT is as a plan, blueprint, or specification (2 Kings 16:10)—for example, of the ark (Gen. 6:15), the tabernacle (Exod. 26:30), and the temple (1 Kings 6:38; Ezek. 43:11). “Fashion” is also used as a synonym for “likeness, appearance, manner, form” (Exod. 37:19; Mark 2:12; Luke 9:29; 1 Cor. 7:31; Phil. 2:8; James 1:11). Finally, Peter cautions believers against “fashioning [themselves] according to the former lusts” (1 Pet. 1:14 KJV), a warning not to model or conform to worldly desires.

English Bible versions use the word “frame” to translate a variety of Hebrew terms in the OT, most of which refer to some kind of structural support. It can refer to the frame made of acacia wood and overlaid with gold that supported the tabernacle in the wilderness (Exod. 26:15–29); the “carrying frame” used to carry the utensils for the temple (Num. 4:10, 12); the frames for the borders, or side panels, of the stands used to transport the basins of the temple (1 Kings 7:28–36); and other objects. The term is also used for the human body, either in its fragility (Job 17:7; cf. Isa. 58:11) or its intricate design (Ps. 139:15).

The present abode of God and the final dwelling place of the righteous. The ancient Jews distinguished three different heavens. The first heaven was the atmospheric heavens of the clouds and where the birds fly (Gen. 1:20). The second heaven was the celestial heavens of the sun, the moon, and the stars. The third heaven was the present home of God and the angels. Paul builds on this understanding of a third heaven in 2 Cor. 12:2–4, where he describes himself as a man who “was caught up to the third heaven” or “paradise,” where he “heard inexpressible things.” This idea of multiple heavens also shows itself in how the Jews normally spoke of “heavens” in the plural (Gen. 1:1), while most other ancient cultures spoke of “heaven” in the singular.

The Abode of God

One of the challenges in understanding “heaven” as the present dwelling place of God involves God’s omnipresence. In one sense, God is present everywhere. David asks in Ps. 139:7, “Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?” He answers that regardless of whether he goes as high up as anyone can go (“up to the heavens”), as low down as anyone can go (“in the depths), as far east as anyone can go (“the wings of the dawn”), or as far west as anyone can go (“the far side of the sea”), God is still there (Ps. 139:8–9).

Although God is present everywhere, God is also present in a special way in “heaven.” During Jesus’ earthly ministry, the Father is sometimes described as speaking in “a voice from heaven” (Matt. 3:17). Similarly, Jesus instructs us to address our prayers to “Our Father in heaven” (6:9). Even the specific request in the Lord’s Prayer that “your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven” (6:10) reminds us that heaven is a place already under God’s full jurisdiction, where his will is presently being done completely and perfectly. Jesus also warns of the dangers of despising “one of these little ones,” because “their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father in heaven” (18:10). Jesus “came down from heaven” (John 6:51) for his earthly ministry, and after his death and resurrection, he ascended back “into heaven,” from where he “will come back in the same way you have seen him go into heaven” (Acts 1:11).

At times, “heaven” becomes virtually a synonym for God himself. In the parable of the prodigal son in Luke 15, the son confesses to his father, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you” (v. 21). This son’s sin against “heaven” has nothing to do with environmental issues such as air pollution, and everything to do with his relationship with God. Note also Matthew’s expression “the kingdom of heaven” versus “the kingdom of God” used elsewhere.

The Final Dwelling Place for Believers

Given this strong connection between heaven and God’s presence, there is a natural connection in Scripture between heaven and the ultimate hope of believers. Believers are promised a reward in heaven (“Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven” [Matt. 5:12]), and even now believers can “store up for [themselves] treasures in heaven” (6:20). Even in this present life, “our citizenship is in heaven” (Phil. 3:20), and our hope at death is to “depart and be with Christ, which is better by far” (1:23). Since Christ is currently in heaven, deceased believers are already present with Christ in heaven awaiting his return, when “God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him” (1 Thess. 4:14).

However, this picture of heaven is more complicated. It is true that heaven is sometimes used in Scripture to refer to the present abode of all departed believers who have left this present life and entered the intermediate state between death and the bodily resurrection (2 Cor. 5:4). It is this hope in a bodily resurrection that sets Christianity apart from other religions. Ultimately, the Christian hope is not that people will receive new physical bodies and float around some ethereal “heaven” like astronauts in outer space for all eternity. Instead, God has created human beings with physical bodies to inhabit a physical world, and our future hope is one of new resurrection bodies inhabiting new heavens and a new earth (Isa. 65:17; 66:22; 2 Pet. 3:13). Just as there will be a certain continuity between the bodies of believers in this present life and their new resurrection bodies (we will know one another), there will also be a certain continuity between this present earth and the new earth to come. Yet, at the same time, everything will also be changed and made new and perfect, as God has designed it to be (Rom. 8:18–21).

The clearest description of this new reality is found in Rev. 21–22, where John describes how he “saw ‘a new heaven and a new earth,’ for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away” (21:1). Here is “the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband” (21:2), when “God himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away” (21:3–4). Even better than all the descriptions of such things as streets of “gold, as pure as transparent glass” (21:21) is that God himself will come and dwell in the midst of his people. As Paul has phrased it, “Now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face” (1 Cor. 13:12). The day will come when we will see God as he is, in all his glory (1 John 3:2).

Two other ideas complete our picture of life in these new heavens and new earth. Heaven will be a place of continued activity and service. Notice Jesus’ blessing in Matt. 25:21: “Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things.” The other principle is that there will be different degrees of reward. Although our ultimate reward is simply being with God himself, Paul also reminds us that if what believers do with their lives “survives, the builder will receive a reward,” and if what they do “is burned up, the builder will suffer loss” (1 Cor. 3:14–15 NRSV). Our choices make a difference for time and eternity (cf. Rev. 14:13). See also Heavens, New.

The present abode of God and the final dwelling place of the righteous. The ancient Jews distinguished three different heavens. The first heaven was the atmospheric heavens of the clouds and where the birds fly (Gen. 1:20). The second heaven was the celestial heavens of the sun, the moon, and the stars. The third heaven was the present home of God and the angels. Paul builds on this understanding of a third heaven in 2 Cor. 12:2–4, where he describes himself as a man who “was caught up to the third heaven” or “paradise,” where he “heard inexpressible things.” This idea of multiple heavens also shows itself in how the Jews normally spoke of “heavens” in the plural (Gen. 1:1), while most other ancient cultures spoke of “heaven” in the singular.

The Abode of God

One of the challenges in understanding “heaven” as the present dwelling place of God involves God’s omnipresence. In one sense, God is present everywhere. David asks in Ps. 139:7, “Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?” He answers that regardless of whether he goes as high up as anyone can go (“up to the heavens”), as low down as anyone can go (“in the depths), as far east as anyone can go (“the wings of the dawn”), or as far west as anyone can go (“the far side of the sea”), God is still there (Ps. 139:8–9).

Although God is present everywhere, God is also present in a special way in “heaven.” During Jesus’ earthly ministry, the Father is sometimes described as speaking in “a voice from heaven” (Matt. 3:17). Similarly, Jesus instructs us to address our prayers to “Our Father in heaven” (6:9). Even the specific request in the Lord’s Prayer that “your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven” (6:10) reminds us that heaven is a place already under God’s full jurisdiction, where his will is presently being done completely and perfectly. Jesus also warns of the dangers of despising “one of these little ones,” because “their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father in heaven” (18:10). Jesus “came down from heaven” (John 6:51) for his earthly ministry, and after his death and resurrection, he ascended back “into heaven,” from where he “will come back in the same way you have seen him go into heaven” (Acts 1:11).

At times, “heaven” becomes virtually a synonym for God himself. In the parable of the prodigal son in Luke 15, the son confesses to his father, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you” (v. 21). This son’s sin against “heaven” has nothing to do with environmental issues such as air pollution, and everything to do with his relationship with God. Note also Matthew’s expression “the kingdom of heaven” versus “the kingdom of God” used elsewhere.

The Final Dwelling Place for Believers

Given this strong connection between heaven and God’s presence, there is a natural connection in Scripture between heaven and the ultimate hope of believers. Believers are promised a reward in heaven (“Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven” [Matt. 5:12]), and even now believers can “store up for [themselves] treasures in heaven” (6:20). Even in this present life, “our citizenship is in heaven” (Phil. 3:20), and our hope at death is to “depart and be with Christ, which is better by far” (1:23). Since Christ is currently in heaven, deceased believers are already present with Christ in heaven awaiting his return, when “God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him” (1 Thess. 4:14).

However, this picture of heaven is more complicated. It is true that heaven is sometimes used in Scripture to refer to the present abode of all departed believers who have left this present life and entered the intermediate state between death and the bodily resurrection (2 Cor. 5:4). It is this hope in a bodily resurrection that sets Christianity apart from other religions. Ultimately, the Christian hope is not that people will receive new physical bodies and float around some ethereal “heaven” like astronauts in outer space for all eternity. Instead, God has created human beings with physical bodies to inhabit a physical world, and our future hope is one of new resurrection bodies inhabiting new heavens and a new earth (Isa. 65:17; 66:22; 2 Pet. 3:13). Just as there will be a certain continuity between the bodies of believers in this present life and their new resurrection bodies (we will know one another), there will also be a certain continuity between this present earth and the new earth to come. Yet, at the same time, everything will also be changed and made new and perfect, as God has designed it to be (Rom. 8:18–21).

The clearest description of this new reality is found in Rev. 21–22, where John describes how he “saw ‘a new heaven and a new earth,’ for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away” (21:1). Here is “the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband” (21:2), when “God himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away” (21:3–4). Even better than all the descriptions of such things as streets of “gold, as pure as transparent glass” (21:21) is that God himself will come and dwell in the midst of his people. As Paul has phrased it, “Now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face” (1 Cor. 13:12). The day will come when we will see God as he is, in all his glory (1 John 3:2).

Two other ideas complete our picture of life in these new heavens and new earth. Heaven will be a place of continued activity and service. Notice Jesus’ blessing in Matt. 25:21: “Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things.” The other principle is that there will be different degrees of reward. Although our ultimate reward is simply being with God himself, Paul also reminds us that if what believers do with their lives “survives, the builder will receive a reward,” and if what they do “is burned up, the builder will suffer loss” (1 Cor. 3:14–15 NRSV). Our choices make a difference for time and eternity (cf. Rev. 14:13). See also Heavens, New.

(1) In the Bible, usually the bottom of a robe. For example, the high priest’s robe had a hem that included golden bells and pomegranates sewn onto it so that they made noise when the high priest moved, presumably to let people know that the priest was still alive when he entered the holy of holies (Exod. 28:33–35; 39:24–26). Often, touching the hem of a robe was considered a sign of submission (such as Saul grabbing Samuel’s in 1 Sam. 15:27). Similarly, it could be an act of entreaty by an inferior toward a superior, as in Zech. 8:23: “In those days ten people from all languages and nations will take firm hold of one Jew by the hem of his robe and say, ‘Let us go with you, because we have heard that God is with you.’ ” The Gospels describe a woman who was healed simply by touching the hem of Jesus’ robe (Matt. 9:20 // Mark 5:27 // Luke 8:44).

(2) A verb to describe the action of surrounding or trapping someone (Ps. 139:5; Hab. 1:4).

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.

The KJV translation of Hebrew words (kilyah; khalats) that may mean either an anatomical (“kidneys”; “loins”) or figurative (“heart”) part of humans. It appears once in the NT, translating the Greek word nephros (Rev. 2:23). The variety of NIV translations reflects the manifold meaning of this word in Hebrew thought: “kidney” (Job 16:13), “waist” (Isa. 11:5), “heart” (Job 19:27), “spirit” (Ps. 73:21), “inmost being” (Ps. 139:13; Prov. 23:16), and “mind” (Jer. 17:10).

In the OT, an underworld place to which all were destined after death. The Hebrew word she’ol is generally translated as “the grave” in modern versions of the Bible, including the NIV. Sheol appears in the OT most frequently in songs and prayers (David’s song [2 Sam. 22:6]; Hannah’s prayer [1 Sam. 2:6]; many references in Psalms), as well as in the wisdom books of Job and Proverbs. The ancient Israelites visualized the cosmos as comprised of three distinct realms: heaven, the realm of the divine; earth, the realm of humanity and God’s creation; and Sheol, a place underneath the earth and the seas, the realm of the dead (Job 11:8; 26:5–7).

The Realm of the Dead

In the OT, Sheol is not a place of judgment or of God’s wrath, but rather a realm that harbored those who had died. Sheol was the great equalizer in the OT, as it was thought to be inhabited not only by the masses, but also by the rich and powerful (Job 3:19; Isa. 5:14; 14:9, 11), the bravest of warriors (Ezek. 32:21), the righteous (Gen. 37:35; Isa. 38:10; Ps. 30:3, 9), the wicked (Num. 16:30, 33), indeed everyone (Ps. 89:48; Eccles. 9:10). Although Sheol itself is not a place of judgment, it is connected to God’s wrath in the OT. The consequence of God’s wrathful judgment is frequently an early descent into Sheol (Num. 16:30; 1 Kings 2:6; Job 24:19; Ps. 31:17; Isa. 38:10; Ezek. 31:17). Premature death is the result of God’s wrath and judgment in the OT, not the descent into Sheol, which itself is inevitable.

Descriptions of Sheol do not occur in third-person narratives or in legal material, but are found only in first-person speeches throughout the OT. Moreover, Sheol is never described in full detail but is referred to only occasionally. Similar to depictions in other ancient Near Eastern cultures, descriptions of Sheol in biblical texts locate it in the farthest depths beneath the earth (Job 11:8; 26:6–13; Ps. 139:8) and the seas (Ezek. 31:15; Jon. 2:4), as contrasted with the heavens above. Sheol is portrayed as a watery underworld (Ps. 69:1–2, 13–15; Jon. 2:6), a place of darkness (Job 17:13; Ps. 88:3, 6, 12), of silence (Pss. 6:5; 31:17; Isa. 38:18), with gates at its entrance (Isa. 38:10; Jon. 2:7). By contrast, Sheol is also portrayed as a place of peace (1 Kings 2:6; Job 21:13), a place where greetings and conversations might take place (Isa. 14:9), where one would be reunited with a loved one who had already died (Gen. 37:35).

Sheol is a place where the fullness of joy in life no longer abides, for one cannot praise God in Sheol (Ps. 6:5; Isa. 38:18–19). Indeed, the book of Ecclesiastes encourages readers, “Eat your food with gladness. . . . Enjoy life with your wife, whom you love. . . . For in the realm of the dead [Sheol] . . . there is neither working nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom” (9:7–10). In a similar manner, the book of Sirach in the Apocrypha states that one must fully enjoy one’s earthly life, for no pleasures are to be found in Sheol (14:16). Job, however, views Sheol as a positive alternative to his tragedies, and he imagines Sheol to be a peaceful place where earthly struggles give way to rest, even for the wicked (Job 3:1–19).

Sheol often is personified along with the figure of Death, particularly in the prophetic literature and Proverbs. Portrayals of Sheol generally are synonymous with those of Death and match iconographic representations of the god Death (Motu) in the ancient Near East. Sheol is portrayed as a monster with formidably large jaws (Isa. 5:14) and clutching hands (Ps. 89:48; Hos. 13:14), employing plagues and scourges to slay its victims (Hos. 13:14), as well as snares and traps (2 Sam. 22:6; Ps. 116:3) to feed its insatiable appetite (Prov. 1:12; 27:20; 30:16; Song 8:6; Hab. 2:5).

Sheol is not, however, a place outside the authority and power of Yahweh. Indeed, it is a place that is open to God’s vision (Job 26:6) and within the reach of God’s hand (Amos 9:2). The realm of Sheol is under the purview of God’s authority, and those who dwell there are not separated from God’s presence: “If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths [Sheol], you are there” (Ps. 139:8). Yet the OT maintains that one’s life of faith in God is altered in Sheol. According to Ps. 6:5, “Among the dead no one proclaims your name. Who praises you from the grave [Sheol]?” And, indeed, “those who go down to the pit cannot hope for your faithfulness” (Isa. 38:18). These texts imply that although Yahweh’s presence remains with those who dwell in Sheol, the dead are unable to respond to God in praise and trust as they did in life.

The Afterlife and Resurrection

Belief in the afterlife was common in the ancient Near East. Thus, it is remarkable that the OT is so restrained in the hope that it offers for life after death. Most OT texts affirm that no one returns from Sheol (Job 7:9; Isa. 38:10, 18; cf. Sir. 48:5). Yet the question remains open. God’s limitless sovereignty is acknowledged in the prayer of Hannah: “The Lord brings death and makes alive; he brings down to the grave [Sheol] and raises up” (1 Sam. 2:6). Thus, Yahweh has the power to raise people up from Sheol, but whether he will choose to do so is a question unanswered in the OT.

Hints of resurrection from the grave can be found in the metaphoric use of Sheol in the psalms and the prophetic literature to represent dire struggle and sin from which the psalmist or Israel receives healing and deliverance: “I will deliver this people from the power of the grave [Sheol]; I will redeem them from death. Where, O death, are your plagues? Where, O grave [Sheol], is your destruction?” (Hos. 13:14 [see also Job 14:13; Pss. 16:10–11; 30:2–3; 49:13–15; 86:13; Jon. 2:3]). However, it is unclear whether these texts portray salvation after descent into Sheol has already taken place or, rather, Yahweh’s deliverance experienced as a protection from descending into Sheol in the first place. Stronger hints at a bodily resurrection come from the narratives in which the prayers of Elijah and Elisha result in a resurrection from the dead (1 Kings 17:17–24; 2 Kings 4:17–37).

When the OT was translated into Greek for Hellenized Jewish readers, “Sheol” was translated as “Hades,” importing a similar Greek concept of the underworld into the biblical text. The NT uses the words “Hades” and “hell” interchangeably; however, the distinction between the grave and hell is maintained. The grave is simply a place to which all are destined, as was Sheol. Thus, it is not until the NT that firm conceptualizations of a place for eternal punishment, as well as a place of eternal reward, emerge. Jewish literature written between the OT and the NT demonstrates a stronger hope in the resurrection, yet these texts largely parallel the OT usage of Sheol as simply an underworld abode of the dead. It is not until the coming of Christ that the resurrection from the dead transforms from a glimmer of hope to a resplendent promise in the Bible.

Abortion remains an important and vital issue in contemporary society, but the Bible does not comment directly on the practice. There is no law for or against, nor is there even a description or allusion to it, even though its practice was not unknown in the ancient world. Apparently, it was not an issue in biblical legislation.

Perhaps the most frequently cited passages tied to the contemporary abortion debate are Exod. 21:22–25; Job 10:10–11; Ps. 139:13–16; Jer. 1:5. Although these passages certainly speak to the unborn state, they have only indirect relevance, at best, to the issue of abortion.

The Hebrew wording of Exod. 21:22 is obscure and could refer to a miscarriage or full-term delivery; and the harm referred to could be that of either the mother or the child. Also, Exod. 21:22 speaks of accidental death, not a willing decision by a mother to abort a child.

Jeremiah 1:5 refers to God knowing Jeremiah before he was in the womb. This speaks to God’s intention from time past to use Jeremiah as a prophet, and the text should not be generalized of everyone. Clearly, the focus is not on the personhood of the fetus but on the extent of God’s knowledge.

Psalm 139:13–16 is perhaps most relevant to the debate, as the psalmist describes the wonder of God in “creating” and “forming” him in the womb. Since the passage refers to God’s planning of the entire believer’s life (v. 16), that life seems to begin in some sense in the womb. Similarly, Job 10:10–11 speaks of fetal development. Although these passages do not speak directly to the matter of abortion, they imply that God’s care for humans does not begin only at birth.

However, care must be taken not to allow this relative silence to be misunderstood. The Bible is very clear about the sanctity of life, especially that of the innocent. The biblical argument against abortion is one that connects more to larger themes concerning protection of the innocent than to any one verse or to a lack of verses.

Geography

Whereas the principal direction in the modern world is north, in the ancient world different cultures used a variety of orientations as they sought to describe their relationship to their geographical environment. In Israel the primary direction was determined by the sunrise: east. This is reflected in Hebrew, where the main word used to refer to east as a direction was qedem, which could also be used to simply refer to that which was directly ahead or in front of the speaker (e.g., Ps. 139:5). Elsewhere, east is designated by the terms mizrakh (“rising” [Josh. 11:3]) or mizrakh hashamesh (“rising of the sun” [Num. 21:11]), both of which derive from the direction of sunrise. By way of contrast, in Egypt the primary direction was south, in alignment with the source of the Nile River.

The ancient world employed the same notion of four cardinal directions, which persists to the present, and the terminology related to these was influenced by the choice of primary direction. Thus, in Israel north is often designated by “left”; south could be designated by “right,” and west by “behind.” In addition, directions could be specified by reference to geographical features found in those directions. North could be specified by the word tsapon, which was derived from the name of a northern Syrian mountain (Zaphon); south by negeb, a name for the region south of Israel (Negev); and west by yam (“sea”), since the Mediterranean Sea lay to the west.

Symbolism

Aside from their purely geographical significance, the directions also came to bear figurative significance. Some caution is warranted in assigning symbolic significance to language, for there is danger of reading invalid meanings into texts. Furthermore, given the ambiguity inherent in the use of terms to refer to directions, which also have alternate significances, there is danger of assigning a symbolic meaning to the direction that actually resides in the alternate. So, for example, while yam (“sea”) carries significant symbolic overtones in the Bible, this association does not appear to have been extended to encompass the term when used to designate a westerly direction.

East and west. Nonetheless, there is, for example, probably some significance in the expulsion from Eden and progressive movement eastward to the tower of Babel through Gen. 1–11, followed by a return to the promised land, which was approached by reversing the easterly migration and returning toward Eden. Eden itself was said to lie “in the east” (Heb. miqqedem; Gen. 2:8), although the same Hebrew expression in Pss. 74:12; 77:5, 11; 78:2; 143:5 means “in ancient times,” and there is perhaps a deliberate ambiguity in the use of the expression in Gen. 2:8. In Isa. 2:6 the east is the source of influences on the people that lead them astray. Following the exile, Ezekiel sees the glory of God returning to the temple from the east (Ezek. 43:1–2). Thus, when used symbolically, “east” is often viewed negatively or else may be used to mark a connection with distant antiquity (Gen. 2:8; Job 1:3). Any symbolic significance assigned to west appears primarily to be associated with it being the antithesis of east. The distance between east and west was used poetically to express vast distance (Ps. 103:12).

North and south. North is significant for two primary reasons. First, it is the direction from which invading armies most often descended upon Israel (Jer. 1:13) as well as from which Babylon’s destruction is said to come (Jer. 50:3). In light of this, Ezekiel’s vision of God approaching from the north strikes an ominous tone of impending judgment (Ezek. 1:1–4). Second, in Canaanite mythology the abode of the gods, and specifically Baal, lay to the north, on Mount Zaphon. Thus, the king of Babylon’s plans in Isa. 14:13 amount to a claim to establish himself as one of the gods. In contrast to this, Ps. 48:2 pre-sents Mount Zion as supplanting Mount Zaphon and thus implicitly presents Israel’s one God as supplanting the Canaanite pantheon.

As with west, there is little symbolic significance associated with the direction south in the Bible, aside from its use in combination with other directions.

The four directions. The four directions (or sometimes just pairs of directions) are used together to describe both the scattering of the Israelites as well as their being gathered by God back to the promised land (Ps. 107:3; Isa. 43:5–6; Luke 13:29). They are also used together to express the extent of the promised land (Gen. 13:14) or else to describe something that is all-encompassing (1 Chron. 9:24).

Geography

Whereas the principal direction in the modern world is north, in the ancient world different cultures used a variety of orientations as they sought to describe their relationship to their geographical environment. In Israel the primary direction was determined by the sunrise: east. This is reflected in Hebrew, where the main word used to refer to east as a direction was qedem, which could also be used to simply refer to that which was directly ahead or in front of the speaker (e.g., Ps. 139:5). Elsewhere, east is designated by the terms mizrakh (“rising” [Josh. 11:3]) or mizrakh hashamesh (“rising of the sun” [Num. 21:11]), both of which derive from the direction of sunrise. By way of contrast, in Egypt the primary direction was south, in alignment with the source of the Nile River.

The ancient world employed the same notion of four cardinal directions, which persists to the present, and the terminology related to these was influenced by the choice of primary direction. Thus, in Israel north is often designated by “left”; south could be designated by “right,” and west by “behind.” In addition, directions could be specified by reference to geographical features found in those directions. North could be specified by the word tsapon, which was derived from the name of a northern Syrian mountain (Zaphon); south by negeb, a name for the region south of Israel (Negev); and west by yam (“sea”), since the Mediterranean Sea lay to the west.

Symbolism

Aside from their purely geographical significance, the directions also came to bear figurative significance. Some caution is warranted in assigning symbolic significance to language, for there is danger of reading invalid meanings into texts. Furthermore, given the ambiguity inherent in the use of terms to refer to directions, which also have alternate significances, there is danger of assigning a symbolic meaning to the direction that actually resides in the alternate. So, for example, while yam (“sea”) carries significant symbolic overtones in the Bible, this association does not appear to have been extended to encompass the term when used to designate a westerly direction.

East and west. Nonetheless, there is, for example, probably some significance in the expulsion from Eden and progressive movement eastward to the tower of Babel through Gen. 1–11, followed by a return to the promised land, which was approached by reversing the easterly migration and returning toward Eden. Eden itself was said to lie “in the east” (Heb. miqqedem; Gen. 2:8), although the same Hebrew expression in Pss. 74:12; 77:5, 11; 78:2; 143:5 means “in ancient times,” and there is perhaps a deliberate ambiguity in the use of the expression in Gen. 2:8. In Isa. 2:6 the east is the source of influences on the people that lead them astray. Following the exile, Ezekiel sees the glory of God returning to the temple from the east (Ezek. 43:1–2). Thus, when used symbolically, “east” is often viewed negatively or else may be used to mark a connection with distant antiquity (Gen. 2:8; Job 1:3). Any symbolic significance assigned to west appears primarily to be associated with it being the antithesis of east. The distance between east and west was used poetically to express vast distance (Ps. 103:12).

North and south. North is significant for two primary reasons. First, it is the direction from which invading armies most often descended upon Israel (Jer. 1:13) as well as from which Babylon’s destruction is said to come (Jer. 50:3). In light of this, Ezekiel’s vision of God approaching from the north strikes an ominous tone of impending judgment (Ezek. 1:1–4). Second, in Canaanite mythology the abode of the gods, and specifically Baal, lay to the north, on Mount Zaphon. Thus, the king of Babylon’s plans in Isa. 14:13 amount to a claim to establish himself as one of the gods. In contrast to this, Ps. 48:2 pre-sents Mount Zion as supplanting Mount Zaphon and thus implicitly presents Israel’s one God as supplanting the Canaanite pantheon.

As with west, there is little symbolic significance associated with the direction south in the Bible, aside from its use in combination with other directions.

The four directions. The four directions (or sometimes just pairs of directions) are used together to describe both the scattering of the Israelites as well as their being gathered by God back to the promised land (Ps. 107:3; Isa. 43:5–6; Luke 13:29). They are also used together to express the extent of the promised land (Gen. 13:14) or else to describe something that is all-encompassing (1 Chron. 9:24).

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.

Human Freedom and Divine Freedom

The concept of freedom has three aspects, the first one being legal, or forensic. We are free to watch television, visit Alabama, and collect stamps. In other words, we may do these things because no law forbids them, and no forces deter us. The second aspect is potential, by which we are free to do something if we can actually do it, apart from the question of legality. In this sense, one is free to lift ten pounds but not ten thousand pounds. The third aspect is psychological, meaning that persons are free who can make up their own minds, unaffected by forces that flatly determine what they think and desire. Most people, therefore, enjoy substantial freedom, defined in these three ways. They can and may do all sorts of things, and they are mentally stable. Nevertheless, human freedom is relative, not absolute. We are not God.

God’s freedom differs from our own at all three levels described above. First, God makes the rules (forensic). Second, he has the power to do whatever he likes (potential). He always reigns and never is subject to anyone or anything. Likewise, third, although God cannot violate his own logical principles, no external forces determine what he thinks and does (psychological). Consequently, God is absolutely free, and human beings are not. We lack God’s power and knowledge, and we must live by his rules. In fact, even our thoughts and desires are shaped by external factors, all of which trace back to God himself. He fashions us in our mother’s womb, and he sovereignly ordains our life experiences, the very ones that affect our desires and character (Ps. 139). Thus, our personality types and preferences are assigned to us by circumstance, and we act upon them in a mildly deterministic way. Of course, the biblical writers do not regard these factors as operating coercively, so that we make no actual choices in what we approve, decide, and become. Otherwise, God would not bother to reveal himself and his will for our lives. We are not rigidly preprogrammed agents; but then again, we do not have God’s own kind of liberty.

Freedom and Determinism

Some critics of biblical theism might complain that a little determinism, in this sense, goes a long way toward depersonalizing human beings. If we live in the Christian world, the concern is, we must frankly and only refer to the prior causes of our actions and ignore their supposed rationales, since those causes threaten to override all other considerations. But some kind of determinism plays a role in any worldview that allows human behavior to be even fallibly predictable. A shallow rut is still a rut that we are in, and no plausible worldview can dodge this fact of experience. Furthermore, some worldviews leave no room at all for free human choices, even in the qualified sense that Christianity implies. Materialism (or naturalism) would fit this description because it reduces all events, including mental ones, to relentless physical processes. Within that system, human beings can no more choose to act than iron chooses to rust. It is no strike against a worldview that it entails some sort of determinism; the question is, rather, whether it leaves room for anything else.

In one sense, however, the biblical writers construe all of us as slaves. We live under the immediate (not ultimate) reign of sin and death, and we have been doing so ever since the events of Gen. 3. Joshua presupposes this sort of problem in telling the Israelites, “You are not able to serve the Lord,” never mind their vows to do so (Josh. 24:19). In Ps. 51:5 David confesses, “Surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me.” Accordingly, Jeremiah says, “The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?” (Jer. 17:9). One could argue that humanity’s captivity to sin is a background theme of the entire OT, and even one of its overall lessons. The apostle Paul, however, actually uses the human institution of slavery to illustrate how desperate the sinner’s condition really is outside of Christ (Rom. 5–6). The unbeliever, though able to choose not to do evil in any particular case, cannot be righteous before God. The believer can still choose to sin—this side of glory—but will not do so habitually and unrepentantly. Using the terms introduced above, we might say that unregenerate persons lack the potential and psychological freedom to please God consistently. They will not desire to do so, and they will not succeed, whatever their transient desires are. The believer enjoys both kinds of freedom, relative to the lost person, but not absolutely. Glorification itself must and will consolidate the change.

Religious Liberty

Finally, the Christian view of salvation requires us to affirm “religious” liberty, which is a legal idea. We do not support laws that push people into churches and out of mosques and temples, because we believe that adults should make these choices voluntarily. Indeed, one cannot receive Christ in any other way, because a coerced decision involves no actual trust in him and confidence in what he promises. Moreover, the Bible says that God himself enables the believer to trust Christ, and he does so through the preaching of his word (Rom. 10:14–15; 1 Cor. 1:21; Eph. 2:1–10). Arm-twisting has no place within this framework, given its attempt to manipulate what the Holy Spirit effects. Only on the day of judgment will God impose his will on humanity coercively (Phil. 2:10–11). Thus, while every person has the duty to obey God’s laws (Rom. 1–2), and though rejecting Christ compounds the sinner’s guilt (Heb. 2:2–3), we have no biblical warrant to believe that the church has God’s blessing to evangelize with red tape and rifles.

Whereas the Greeks identified the good as an abstract ideal toward which people should strive in all their actions, the Bible identifies goodness as an attribute of God, who is personal (Ps. 25:8–10). Therefore, God is the ultimate standard of goodness.

Creation itself expresses God’s goodness. Human beings are fearfully and wonderfully made (Ps. 139:14). We have been given the capacity to enjoy the many blessings of God’s creation (Ps. 145:9, 16), and to bring the potentialities of creation to their full expression by cultivating and subduing the earth (Gen. 1:28; Ps. 8). We are created in God’s image to do good by living according to God’s purposes. Evil came into the world when Adam and Eve looked to something in creation instead of God as the source of ultimate good (Gen. 3).

In his goodness, God has chosen goodness. If we were to shine God’s goodness through a prism, its color spectrum would include love, mercy, grace, kindness, faithfulness, righteousness, beauty, and perfection to redeem his people, who have lost their capacity for good through sin. Jesus is the good shepherd who lays down his life for his sheep (John 10:11). God showers his benevolence upon both the evil and the good (Matt. 5:45). For believers, God uses everything, even their suffering, to bring about their good, namely, Christlikeness (Rom. 8:28–29).

Geography

Whereas the principal direction in the modern world is north, in the ancient world different cultures used a variety of orientations as they sought to describe their relationship to their geographical environment. In Israel the primary direction was determined by the sunrise: east. This is reflected in Hebrew, where the main word used to refer to east as a direction was qedem, which could also be used to simply refer to that which was directly ahead or in front of the speaker (e.g., Ps. 139:5). Elsewhere, east is designated by the terms mizrakh (“rising” [Josh. 11:3]) or mizrakh hashamesh (“rising of the sun” [Num. 21:11]), both of which derive from the direction of sunrise. By way of contrast, in Egypt the primary direction was south, in alignment with the source of the Nile River.

The ancient world employed the same notion of four cardinal directions, which persists to the present, and the terminology related to these was influenced by the choice of primary direction. Thus, in Israel north is often designated by “left”; south could be designated by “right,” and west by “behind.” In addition, directions could be specified by reference to geographical features found in those directions. North could be specified by the word tsapon, which was derived from the name of a northern Syrian mountain (Zaphon); south by negeb, a name for the region south of Israel (Negev); and west by yam (“sea”), since the Mediterranean Sea lay to the west.

Symbolism

Aside from their purely geographical significance, the directions also came to bear figurative significance. Some caution is warranted in assigning symbolic significance to language, for there is danger of reading invalid meanings into texts. Furthermore, given the ambiguity inherent in the use of terms to refer to directions, which also have alternate significances, there is danger of assigning a symbolic meaning to the direction that actually resides in the alternate. So, for example, while yam (“sea”) carries significant symbolic overtones in the Bible, this association does not appear to have been extended to encompass the term when used to designate a westerly direction.

East and west. Nonetheless, there is, for example, probably some significance in the expulsion from Eden and progressive movement eastward to the tower of Babel through Gen. 1–11, followed by a return to the promised land, which was approached by reversing the easterly migration and returning toward Eden. Eden itself was said to lie “in the east” (Heb. miqqedem; Gen. 2:8), although the same Hebrew expression in Pss. 74:12; 77:5, 11; 78:2; 143:5 means “in ancient times,” and there is perhaps a deliberate ambiguity in the use of the expression in Gen. 2:8. In Isa. 2:6 the east is the source of influences on the people that lead them astray. Following the exile, Ezekiel sees the glory of God returning to the temple from the east (Ezek. 43:1–2). Thus, when used symbolically, “east” is often viewed negatively or else may be used to mark a connection with distant antiquity (Gen. 2:8; Job 1:3). Any symbolic significance assigned to west appears primarily to be associated with it being the antithesis of east. The distance between east and west was used poetically to express vast distance (Ps. 103:12).

North and south. North is significant for two primary reasons. First, it is the direction from which invading armies most often descended upon Israel (Jer. 1:13) as well as from which Babylon’s destruction is said to come (Jer. 50:3). In light of this, Ezekiel’s vision of God approaching from the north strikes an ominous tone of impending judgment (Ezek. 1:1–4). Second, in Canaanite mythology the abode of the gods, and specifically Baal, lay to the north, on Mount Zaphon. Thus, the king of Babylon’s plans in Isa. 14:13 amount to a claim to establish himself as one of the gods. In contrast to this, Ps. 48:2 pre-sents Mount Zion as supplanting Mount Zaphon and thus implicitly presents Israel’s one God as supplanting the Canaanite pantheon.

As with west, there is little symbolic significance associated with the direction south in the Bible, aside from its use in combination with other directions.

The four directions. The four directions (or sometimes just pairs of directions) are used together to describe both the scattering of the Israelites as well as their being gathered by God back to the promised land (Ps. 107:3; Isa. 43:5–6; Luke 13:29). They are also used together to express the extent of the promised land (Gen. 13:14) or else to describe something that is all-encompassing (1 Chron. 9:24).

The English word derives from the Latin omnis (“all”) and praesens (“present”). Though not found in Scripture, the term accurately describes a divine perfection. God is always in his totality everywhere present, yet separate from his creation (Gen. 1; 1 Kings 8:27; Ps. 139:7–12; Jer. 23:23–24; Heb. 4:13). This attribute is to be distinguished from pantheism, which teaches that God is everything, that is, that God and the material world are one and the same. God’s omnipresence is a great comfort for those who seek him but is disconcerting to those who may wish to avoid him (Job 34:21–22; Ps. 139:7; Amos 9:1–4; Jon. 1:3). Although at various times God chose to localize his presence for the purpose of revelation, he always remained transcendent (1 Kings 8:27). Although the lost are said to be removed from the presence of God (2 Thess. 1:9), even in the lake of fire they are in actuality separated from his mercy, grace, and forgiveness, not his essential presence (Job 26:6; Heb. 4:13; Rev. 14:10; 20:11–14).

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.

Before the Enlightenment, the idea that all forms of life were created by God went largely unquestioned. That the God of Israel created by his word all plants and animals (Gen. 1:11–12, 20–25), “breathed . . . the breath of life” into the first human (2:7), and created male and female ancestors of all humankind (1:25–27) was taken as clear expression of the fact that God is the sole source and author of all life (Pss. 36:9; 139:13–16; Jer. 17:13). The whole of life—physical, emotional, and intellectual—originates from God himself as creator of all things. Not only does he create life, but also if God withdraws his breath of life, humans return to dust (Gen. 6:17; 7:23; 1 Sam. 2:6; Job 34:13–15; Ps. 104:29). Since the Enlightenment, questions regarding the origin of life have been taken up by the natural sciences. Philosophical rationalism insists that all life on earth must have originated from inanimate matter and not from a supernatural source.

The term “predestination” means “to determine or decide something beforehand.” Some form of the Greek verb proorizō (“to determine beforehand”) occurs six times in the NT (Acts 4:28; Rom. 8:29, 30; 1 Cor. 2:7; Eph. 1:5, 11). It is practically synonymous with the concept of foreordination and is closely related to divine foreknowledge (Acts 2:23; Rom. 8:29; 1 Pet. 1:1–2, 20). Various Scriptures indicate that God the Father is the one who predestines (John 17:6–10; Rom. 8:29; Eph. 1:3–5; 1 Pet. 1:2).

The specific objects of predestination are humans, angels, and the Messiah. These divine predeterminations occurred before the creation of the world and were motivated by the love of God (Eph. 1:4–5). In regard to humans, this means that in eternity past, God determined that some individuals would be the recipients of his salvation. However, this determination does not rule out the necessity of human choice, responsibility, and faith. The decision to predestine some individuals for salvation was based not upon anything good or bad in the recipients, but solely on God’s good pleasure and according to his holy, wise, and eternal purpose (Isa. 46:10; Acts 13:48; Rom. 11:33).

Predestination as Part of God’s Larger Plan

The scope of God’s plan. Predestination is a part of God’s all-encompassing eternal plan (Isa. 40:13–14; Rom. 11:34; Eph. 1:11). Several terms express God’s plan. Among these are his “decree” (Ps. 2:7), “eternal purpose” (Eph. 3:11), “foreknowledge” (Acts 2:23), and “will” (Eph. 1:9, 11). God’s plan involves all things that come to pass, including major and insignificant events, direct and indirect causes, things appointed and things permitted. It therefore encompasses both good and evil (Ps. 139:16; Prov. 16:4; Isa. 14:24–27; 22:11; 37:26–27; 46:9–10; Acts 2:23; 4:27–28; Eph. 1:11; 2:10).

The inclusion of evil in the plan of God does not mean that he condones, authorizes, or commits moral evil. The apostle John stresses that God is light and that there is no darkness in him at all (1 John 1:5). He is absolutely holy and cannot be charged with the commission of sin (Hab. 1:13). When addressing the topic of God’s plan and purpose, the biblical authors are careful to distinguish between divine causation and human responsibility. Both fall under the purview of God’s plan. There is divine certainty about what will happen, but moral agents are never under compulsion to commit evil (see Acts 4:28; Rom. 9:11; 1 Cor. 2:7; 11:2; Heb. 2:5, 10–16; 1 Pet. 1:2, 20; 2 Pet. 3:17). For example, when Luke refers to the greatest miscarriage of justice in the history of the world, the crucifixion of Christ, he indicates that it was predestined by God, but the moral turpitude of the act is attributed to “wicked men” (Acts 2:23). The dual nature of such events is aptly reflected in Joseph’s statement to his brothers who sold him into slavery: “You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good” (Gen. 50:20 NASB).

Whereas the all-encompassing plan of God relates to his sovereign control over all things, predestination appears to be restricted primarily to certain divine decisions affecting humans, angels, and the Messiah (Isa. 42:1–7; Acts 2:23; 1 Tim. 5:21; 1 Pet. 1:20; 2:4). With reference to humans, Paul states, “In him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will” (Eph. 1:11). Some scholars limit predestination to those things “in him,” thus linking this work of God to his purpose in salvation. Others argue that the following phrase, “who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will,” demonstrates that all things fall under the purview of God’s controlling and guiding purpose (Eph. 1:11). It seems best to see the phrase “in him” as indicating the sphere in which believers are chosen and the term “predestinated” as one crucial aspect of the greater plan of God.

Divine foreknowledge and election. Some theologians argue that election and predestination are merely based upon God’s foreknowledge of those who will believe in him. Although God surely knows all those who will believe, the term “foreknowledge” connotes much more than simply knowing ahead of time who will come to faith. It means that God has sovereignly chosen to know some individuals in such an intimate way that it moved him to predestine them to eternal life (Rom. 8:29). Whereas the term “election” refers to God’s sovereign choice of those individuals, “predestination” looks forward toward the goal of that selection. Both predestination and election occur in eternity past (Eph. 1:4–5).

The purpose of predestination. Whereas election refers to God’s choice of individuals, predestination looks toward the purpose and goal of that choice. NT believers are designated as chosen by God and appointed to eternal life (Acts 13:48; Eph. 1:4). The express purpose is that they be adopted as his children (Eph. 1:5) and, as beloved children, become “conformed to the image of his Son” (Rom. 8:29). The idea is that those whom God has chosen are predestined in view of the purpose that he desires to fulfill in them, that of becoming his children who are conformed to the image of his Son. The ultimate purpose behind this plan is to bring glory to God (Eph. 1:5–6, 11–12).

Predestination and Reprobation

In his plan, God has chosen some individuals, nations, groups, and angels to fulfill special purposes, implying that other individuals, nations, groups, and angels have not been selected for those same purposes (2 Thess. 2:13; 2 Tim. 2:10; 1 Pet. 1:2). With regard to God’s choice in salvation, this has led some theologians to argue that those not chosen for salvation are by default chosen for eternal damnation. They maintain that predestination applies not only to individuals whom God plans to save, but also to those whom he does not plan to save (Prov. 16:4; Matt. 26:23–24; Rom. 9:10–13, 17–18, 21–22; 2 Tim. 2:20; 1 Pet. 2:8; 2 Pet. 2:3, 9; Jude 4; Rev. 13:8; 20:15). This is sometimes called “reprobation.” The belief in the combined concepts of election and reprobation has been called “double predestination.”

While some scholars in the history of the church have argued that God is just as active in determining the reprobate as he is the elect, others have pointed out that God’s condemnation of the nonelect is based solely upon their sin and unbelief. A real distinction exists in the level of divine involvement with regard to the destiny of one class as compared with the other. God does not appear to have the same relationship to every event or thing in his creation. The degree of divine causation in each case differs. Scripture recognizes a difference between God’s direct working and his permissive will. In this view, God directly chooses some to be saved; however, he does not choose the others to be damned but rather passes them by, allowing them to continue on their own way and eventually suffer the just punishment that their sins deserve.

Whichever view one takes, it seems that the Scripture does not teach reprobation in the same way it teaches predestination leading to eternal life. Whereas the assignment to eternal death is a judicial act taking into account a person’s sin, predestination unto eternal life is purely an act of God’s sovereign grace and mercy not taking into account any actions by those chosen. Carrying the teaching of reprobation to the extreme threatens to view God as capricious, which clearly is not scriptural (1 John 1:5).

Predestination and Human Responsibility

God was in no way obligated or morally impelled to choose or predestine anyone to eternal life. His determination not to choose everyone in no way impinges upon his holy and righteous character (Rom. 9:13). On the contrary, justice would demand that all receive the punishment that they have rightly earned for their sins (Rom. 3:23; 6:23). Therefore, the predestination of some to become like his Son required that God exercise grace and mercy in providing for the cleansing of their sin, which he accomplished through the sacrifice of his beloved Son, Jesus Christ (Acts 2:23).

God’s predetermined plan does not force individuals to respond in predetermined ways, either to accept him or to reject him. In the one case, the sinner is drawn by God to himself but must also choose to place trust in Christ (John 6:37, 44). Even in the radical intervention of God in the life of Saul on the road to Damascus, where the divine call was indeed overpowering, Saul was given opportunity to respond either positively or negatively. In the case of those who are headed for eternal judgment, God’s working is not fatalistic or mechanistic in the sense that a person may want to choose God but God’s predetermined plan will not allow such a response. To the contrary, all are invited to come to Christ (Matt. 11:28; John 3:16). The apostle John clarifies, “Whoever comes to me I will never drive away” (John 6:37 [cf. Matt. 11:28]). Those who do not come to God refuse to do so by their own volition (Matt. 23:37; John 5:40). They are not merely unable to come to God but unwilling to do so (John 5:40; 6:65; Rom. 3:11). The NT teaches that Christ died for their sins (John 3:16), pleadingly warns them to repent, and cites their transgressions as the reason for their condemnation (1 Pet. 2:8; 2 Pet. 2:21–22; Jude 8–16). When all aspects of the issue are considered, there is indeed a mystery that lies outside the boundaries of our comprehension regarding God’s sovereign working and human choice.

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.

The modern concept of “self-esteem” may have roots in individualism, but Scripture conceives of it in relation to God and community. Creation grounds positive self-regard in dignity, blessing, and authority bestowed by God (Gen. 1:26–28; Pss. 8; 139:13–16), hence the concern that God preserve one from oppression, illness, and shame (Ps. 71). Self-esteem is not absolute, unlimited self-regard, but rather a healthy valuing of oneself and others as beloved, gifted by, and responsible to God (Rom. 12:3–8; contrast Ps. 14).

Self-esteem draws strength from the community’s defining story. The people of Israel are commanded to teach their children their narrative of promise, oppression, and deliverance (Deut. 6), and prophetic words of divine assurance help restore the exiles’ corporate identity, preparing them for return to the land (e.g., Isa. 54). Similarly, Jesus pledges the Father’s care for the disciples as persons, forming them as a community and freeing them for lives of trust and contentment as God’s beloved children (Luke 12:32–34; Phil. 4:10–20).

The present abode of God and the final dwelling place of the righteous. The ancient Jews distinguished three different heavens. The first heaven was the atmospheric heavens of the clouds and where the birds fly (Gen. 1:20). The second heaven was the celestial heavens of the sun, the moon, and the stars. The third heaven was the present home of God and the angels. Paul builds on this understanding of a third heaven in 2 Cor. 12:2–4, where he describes himself as a man who “was caught up to the third heaven” or “paradise,” where he “heard inexpressible things.” This idea of multiple heavens also shows itself in how the Jews normally spoke of “heavens” in the plural (Gen. 1:1), while most other ancient cultures spoke of “heaven” in the singular.

The Abode of God

One of the challenges in understanding “heaven” as the present dwelling place of God involves God’s omnipresence. In one sense, God is present everywhere. David asks in Ps. 139:7, “Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?” He answers that regardless of whether he goes as high up as anyone can go (“up to the heavens”), as low down as anyone can go (“in the depths), as far east as anyone can go (“the wings of the dawn”), or as far west as anyone can go (“the far side of the sea”), God is still there (Ps. 139:8–9).

Although God is present everywhere, God is also present in a special way in “heaven.” During Jesus’ earthly ministry, the Father is sometimes described as speaking in “a voice from heaven” (Matt. 3:17). Similarly, Jesus instructs us to address our prayers to “Our Father in heaven” (6:9). Even the specific request in the Lord’s Prayer that “your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven” (6:10) reminds us that heaven is a place already under God’s full jurisdiction, where his will is presently being done completely and perfectly. Jesus also warns of the dangers of despising “one of these little ones,” because “their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father in heaven” (18:10). Jesus “came down from heaven” (John 6:51) for his earthly ministry, and after his death and resurrection, he ascended back “into heaven,” from where he “will come back in the same way you have seen him go into heaven” (Acts 1:11).

At times, “heaven” becomes virtually a synonym for God himself. In the parable of the prodigal son in Luke 15, the son confesses to his father, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you” (v. 21). This son’s sin against “heaven” has nothing to do with environmental issues such as air pollution, and everything to do with his relationship with God. Note also Matthew’s expression “the kingdom of heaven” versus “the kingdom of God” used elsewhere.

The Final Dwelling Place for Believers

Given this strong connection between heaven and God’s presence, there is a natural connection in Scripture between heaven and the ultimate hope of believers. Believers are promised a reward in heaven (“Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven” [Matt. 5:12]), and even now believers can “store up for [themselves] treasures in heaven” (6:20). Even in this present life, “our citizenship is in heaven” (Phil. 3:20), and our hope at death is to “depart and be with Christ, which is better by far” (1:23). Since Christ is currently in heaven, deceased believers are already present with Christ in heaven awaiting his return, when “God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him” (1 Thess. 4:14).

However, this picture of heaven is more complicated. It is true that heaven is sometimes used in Scripture to refer to the present abode of all departed believers who have left this present life and entered the intermediate state between death and the bodily resurrection (2 Cor. 5:4). It is this hope in a bodily resurrection that sets Christianity apart from other religions. Ultimately, the Christian hope is not that people will receive new physical bodies and float around some ethereal “heaven” like astronauts in outer space for all eternity. Instead, God has created human beings with physical bodies to inhabit a physical world, and our future hope is one of new resurrection bodies inhabiting new heavens and a new earth (Isa. 65:17; 66:22; 2 Pet. 3:13). Just as there will be a certain continuity between the bodies of believers in this present life and their new resurrection bodies (we will know one another), there will also be a certain continuity between this present earth and the new earth to come. Yet, at the same time, everything will also be changed and made new and perfect, as God has designed it to be (Rom. 8:18–21).

The clearest description of this new reality is found in Rev. 21–22, where John describes how he “saw ‘a new heaven and a new earth,’ for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away” (21:1). Here is “the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband” (21:2), when “God himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away” (21:3–4). Even better than all the descriptions of such things as streets of “gold, as pure as transparent glass” (21:21) is that God himself will come and dwell in the midst of his people. As Paul has phrased it, “Now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face” (1 Cor. 13:12). The day will come when we will see God as he is, in all his glory (1 John 3:2).

Two other ideas complete our picture of life in these new heavens and new earth. Heaven will be a place of continued activity and service. Notice Jesus’ blessing in Matt. 25:21: “Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things.” The other principle is that there will be different degrees of reward. Although our ultimate reward is simply being with God himself, Paul also reminds us that if what believers do with their lives “survives, the builder will receive a reward,” and if what they do “is burned up, the builder will suffer loss” (1 Cor. 3:14–15 NRSV). Our choices make a difference for time and eternity (cf. Rev. 14:13). See also Heavens, New.

Geography

Whereas the principal direction in the modern world is north, in the ancient world different cultures used a variety of orientations as they sought to describe their relationship to their geographical environment. In Israel the primary direction was determined by the sunrise: east. This is reflected in Hebrew, where the main word used to refer to east as a direction was qedem, which could also be used to simply refer to that which was directly ahead or in front of the speaker (e.g., Ps. 139:5). Elsewhere, east is designated by the terms mizrakh (“rising” [Josh. 11:3]) or mizrakh hashamesh (“rising of the sun” [Num. 21:11]), both of which derive from the direction of sunrise. By way of contrast, in Egypt the primary direction was south, in alignment with the source of the Nile River.

The ancient world employed the same notion of four cardinal directions, which persists to the present, and the terminology related to these was influenced by the choice of primary direction. Thus, in Israel north is often designated by “left”; south could be designated by “right,” and west by “behind.” In addition, directions could be specified by reference to geographical features found in those directions. North could be specified by the word tsapon, which was derived from the name of a northern Syrian mountain (Zaphon); south by negeb, a name for the region south of Israel (Negev); and west by yam (“sea”), since the Mediterranean Sea lay to the west.

Symbolism

Aside from their purely geographical significance, the directions also came to bear figurative significance. Some caution is warranted in assigning symbolic significance to language, for there is danger of reading invalid meanings into texts. Furthermore, given the ambiguity inherent in the use of terms to refer to directions, which also have alternate significances, there is danger of assigning a symbolic meaning to the direction that actually resides in the alternate. So, for example, while yam (“sea”) carries significant symbolic overtones in the Bible, this association does not appear to have been extended to encompass the term when used to designate a westerly direction.

East and west. Nonetheless, there is, for example, probably some significance in the expulsion from Eden and progressive movement eastward to the tower of Babel through Gen. 1–11, followed by a return to the promised land, which was approached by reversing the easterly migration and returning toward Eden. Eden itself was said to lie “in the east” (Heb. miqqedem; Gen. 2:8), although the same Hebrew expression in Pss. 74:12; 77:5, 11; 78:2; 143:5 means “in ancient times,” and there is perhaps a deliberate ambiguity in the use of the expression in Gen. 2:8. In Isa. 2:6 the east is the source of influences on the people that lead them astray. Following the exile, Ezekiel sees the glory of God returning to the temple from the east (Ezek. 43:1–2). Thus, when used symbolically, “east” is often viewed negatively or else may be used to mark a connection with distant antiquity (Gen. 2:8; Job 1:3). Any symbolic significance assigned to west appears primarily to be associated with it being the antithesis of east. The distance between east and west was used poetically to express vast distance (Ps. 103:12).

North and south. North is significant for two primary reasons. First, it is the direction from which invading armies most often descended upon Israel (Jer. 1:13) as well as from which Babylon’s destruction is said to come (Jer. 50:3). In light of this, Ezekiel’s vision of God approaching from the north strikes an ominous tone of impending judgment (Ezek. 1:1–4). Second, in Canaanite mythology the abode of the gods, and specifically Baal, lay to the north, on Mount Zaphon. Thus, the king of Babylon’s plans in Isa. 14:13 amount to a claim to establish himself as one of the gods. In contrast to this, Ps. 48:2 pre-sents Mount Zion as supplanting Mount Zaphon and thus implicitly presents Israel’s one God as supplanting the Canaanite pantheon.

As with west, there is little symbolic significance associated with the direction south in the Bible, aside from its use in combination with other directions.

The four directions. The four directions (or sometimes just pairs of directions) are used together to describe both the scattering of the Israelites as well as their being gathered by God back to the promised land (Ps. 107:3; Isa. 43:5–6; Luke 13:29). They are also used together to express the extent of the promised land (Gen. 13:14) or else to describe something that is all-encompassing (1 Chron. 9:24).

An appearance by God. The word “theophany” is not found in the Bible; however, by the early fourth century AD, the term had come to be used in reference to God. Eusebius, bishop of Caesarea at that time, uses the term (Gk. theophaneia) in reference to God’s appearances to people as these are recounted in Gen. 18:1–5, 25; 32:28–30; Exod. 3:4–6; Josh. 5:13–15 (Hist. eccl. 1.2.10). This meaning of “theophany,” referring to the biblical phenomenon of God’s appearing, is the sense of the word considered here.

“Theophany” is a compound word, related to the Greek words theos (usually translated as “god” or “God”) and phainō (often translated as “to appear”). The Bible says in many places that God “appeared” (e.g., Gen. 12:7; 17:1; 18:1; 26:2, 24; 35:9; 48:3; Exod. 3:16; 4:5; Deut. 31:15). For example, Gen. 18:1 says that “the Lord appeared” to Abraham. Several other passages say that people saw God (Gen. 32:30; Exod. 24:10; Isa. 6:1). For example, Isa. 6:1 says that Isaiah “saw the Lord.” “Appeared” and “see” usually reflect different forms of the same Hebrew verb.

Closely related to these appearances are statements describing God’s presence and glory within a cloud and at God’s tent or temple. During the exodus of Israel from Egypt, “by day the Lord went ahead of them in a pillar of cloud,” leading them (Exod. 13:21). When Moses later constructs the tabernacle or tent of meeting, a cloud covers it, and the glory of God fills the tabernacle (40:34). God typically speaks to Moses from the tabernacle (Exod. 33:7–9; Num. 1:1; 7:89).

Later, when the temple is dedicated, “the cloud filled the temple of the Lord” (1 Kings 8:10). This cloud is associated with God’s glory, and where God says he would dwell (8:11–12). In the book of Ezekiel, God forsakes the temple because of the sins of Israel, so the cloud and God’s glory depart (Ezek. 10:4). Throughout the Bible, the local presence of God is regularly indicated by the tabernacle and later by the temple, for this is the place where all offerings are given to God, and where people come before God.

In the Bible, an appearance by God does not limit God to one place. Solomon says during the dedication of the temple that even heaven cannot contain God, much less the temple that Solomon has built (1 Kings 8:27). God’s omnipresence is likewise expressed by the psalmist (Ps. 139:7–8).

God does not always appear in the same form in theophanies. The angel of the Lord appears in the fire of a burning bush, saying that he is the God of Abraham (Exod. 3:2–6). Elsewhere, the angel of the Lord is described as a man, but then ascends to heaven in the flame of an altar (Judg. 13:3–13, 20). John describes God sitting on a throne (Rev. 4:2; 5:1). In other passages God is locally present and speaks, yet without explicitly appearing, which might be classified as a theophany (Num. 22:9, 20; 23:16; Mark 1:11; 9:7; John 12:28).

Despite these examples of theophanies, some biblical passages state that people cannot see God. However, these passages may refer to practical human limitations rather than any inherent characteristic of God himself. In Exodus, for example, God tells Moses that no one seeing God’s face can live (33:20). However, God then says that Moses, without seeing God’s face, “will see my back” (33:23). The entire passage indicates that God can be seen more fully, but only with fatal results. Several NT passages similarly indicate that God cannot be fully seen (John 1:18; 4:24; 1 Tim. 1:17; 6:15–16; Heb. 11:27).

Just as God dwelled within the tabernacle, at times showing his glory, the NT says that the Word of God was made to dwell in flesh (incarnate) as Jesus Christ and so revealed God’s glory (John 1:14). This Word of God is the same word that created all things in Gen. 1 and so is genuinely God (John 1:1–3).

Geography

Whereas the principal direction in the modern world is north, in the ancient world different cultures used a variety of orientations as they sought to describe their relationship to their geographical environment. In Israel the primary direction was determined by the sunrise: east. This is reflected in Hebrew, where the main word used to refer to east as a direction was qedem, which could also be used to simply refer to that which was directly ahead or in front of the speaker (e.g., Ps. 139:5). Elsewhere, east is designated by the terms mizrakh (“rising” [Josh. 11:3]) or mizrakh hashamesh (“rising of the sun” [Num. 21:11]), both of which derive from the direction of sunrise. By way of contrast, in Egypt the primary direction was south, in alignment with the source of the Nile River.

The ancient world employed the same notion of four cardinal directions, which persists to the present, and the terminology related to these was influenced by the choice of primary direction. Thus, in Israel north is often designated by “left”; south could be designated by “right,” and west by “behind.” In addition, directions could be specified by reference to geographical features found in those directions. North could be specified by the word tsapon, which was derived from the name of a northern Syrian mountain (Zaphon); south by negeb, a name for the region south of Israel (Negev); and west by yam (“sea”), since the Mediterranean Sea lay to the west.

Symbolism

Aside from their purely geographical significance, the directions also came to bear figurative significance. Some caution is warranted in assigning symbolic significance to language, for there is danger of reading invalid meanings into texts. Furthermore, given the ambiguity inherent in the use of terms to refer to directions, which also have alternate significances, there is danger of assigning a symbolic meaning to the direction that actually resides in the alternate. So, for example, while yam (“sea”) carries significant symbolic overtones in the Bible, this association does not appear to have been extended to encompass the term when used to designate a westerly direction.

East and west. Nonetheless, there is, for example, probably some significance in the expulsion from Eden and progressive movement eastward to the tower of Babel through Gen. 1–11, followed by a return to the promised land, which was approached by reversing the easterly migration and returning toward Eden. Eden itself was said to lie “in the east” (Heb. miqqedem; Gen. 2:8), although the same Hebrew expression in Pss. 74:12; 77:5, 11; 78:2; 143:5 means “in ancient times,” and there is perhaps a deliberate ambiguity in the use of the expression in Gen. 2:8. In Isa. 2:6 the east is the source of influences on the people that lead them astray. Following the exile, Ezekiel sees the glory of God returning to the temple from the east (Ezek. 43:1–2). Thus, when used symbolically, “east” is often viewed negatively or else may be used to mark a connection with distant antiquity (Gen. 2:8; Job 1:3). Any symbolic significance assigned to west appears primarily to be associated with it being the antithesis of east. The distance between east and west was used poetically to express vast distance (Ps. 103:12).

North and south. North is significant for two primary reasons. First, it is the direction from which invading armies most often descended upon Israel (Jer. 1:13) as well as from which Babylon’s destruction is said to come (Jer. 50:3). In light of this, Ezekiel’s vision of God approaching from the north strikes an ominous tone of impending judgment (Ezek. 1:1–4). Second, in Canaanite mythology the abode of the gods, and specifically Baal, lay to the north, on Mount Zaphon. Thus, the king of Babylon’s plans in Isa. 14:13 amount to a claim to establish himself as one of the gods. In contrast to this, Ps. 48:2 pre-sents Mount Zion as supplanting Mount Zaphon and thus implicitly presents Israel’s one God as supplanting the Canaanite pantheon.

As with west, there is little symbolic significance associated with the direction south in the Bible, aside from its use in combination with other directions.

The four directions. The four directions (or sometimes just pairs of directions) are used together to describe both the scattering of the Israelites as well as their being gathered by God back to the promised land (Ps. 107:3; Isa. 43:5–6; Luke 13:29). They are also used together to express the extent of the promised land (Gen. 13:14) or else to describe something that is all-encompassing (1 Chron. 9:24).