Dan Olinger

Abraham, Part 1: Introduction

August 20, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

I’d like to spend the next few posts–maybe 10 or 12–on a theological look at the life of Abraham as recounted in Genesis 12-25. As we’ll see, he’s a foundational character in Scripture, and there’s a lot to learn from him–about history, about philosophy of life, about making and recovering from mistakes, and most of all about God.

I’ve begun by saying he’s a foundational character. Let’s demonstrate that.

He is, of course, an Old Testament character, whose entire life narrative is in the first book of the Bible; but as a measure of his long-term significance, I’d like to survey what the New Testament says about him.

He’s mentioned in all four Gospels, Acts, Paul, Peter, James, and Hebrews.

He’s identified as the start of God’s covenant with Israel (Lk 1.55; He 6.13-15); first-century Jews are called “sons” or “daughters’ of Abraham (Lk 13.16; 19.9; Ac 13.26; Ro 11.1; 2Co 11.22; He 2.16). He permeates Stephen’s sermonic history of the nation (Ac 7.2, 8, 16, 32). He is called the father of Israel’s great hope, the Messiah (Mt 1.1-2, 17; Lk 3.34), and he is said to point to that same Messiah; Jesus states that directly (Jn 8.52-58), and Peter emphasizes it as he introduces the New Covenant at Pentecost (Ac 3.13-25). He represents the Levitical priesthood, which of course is descended from his great-grandson, and which Christ, as a priest after the order of Melchizedek, supersedes (He 7.1-9).

His relationship with God is exemplary for all believers; he comes to God by faith, not works (Ro 4.1-16; Ga 3.6-18; He 11.8-17; Jam 2.21-23), thereby rendering physical descent relatively unimportant (Mt 3.9; Lk 3.8; Jn 8.33-40; Ro 9.7; Ga 4.22). Consequently, he represents all who come to God (Mt 8.11; Lk 13.28; Lk 16.23-30).

We can organize Abraham’s life into several stages. When we meet him, he is a Mesopotamian, apparently an idol worshiper (Jos 24.15), whom God calls to “a land that I will show you” (Gen 12.1). We might call this stage The Call (Ge 12-14).

The lengthiest stage begins with a divine covenant (ch 15), which Abram (as he’s called at the time) misguidedly tries to assist by having a son through his wife’s servant (ch 16). After a formal initiation through circumcision (ch 17), the covenant is fulfilled in the birth and preservation of Isaac (ch 18-22). We’ll call this stage, obviously, The Covenant.

Finally, there’s a denouement: he acquires a burial place (ch 23), acquires a wife for Isaac in Rebekah (ch 24), and sees his family tree greatly expanded (ch 25). All of this assures us that God’s covenant promises for him will be fulfilled.

He will show us a typical man, a sinner, inclined to fail despite his many strengths and advantages. But in the end he is characterized by a single simple trait: faith.

He believed. As can we, as human and messy as we are.

Next time: Call and Response.

Photo by Mick Haupt on Unsplash

On Good Demands, Part 4: Walk with God

August 17, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Do Justly | Part 3: Love Mercy

Finally, Paul says, Walk humbly with God. There are actually two ways we think of walking. One is with the emphasis on where you’re going, and the other is with the emphasis on whom you’re with. The destination, or the journey. Let me illustrate.

You get into a crowded elevator. What happens the instant the door closes? Everybody turns around and faces the doors. And they probably stand with their hands folded in front of them, and they stare at something. What do they stare at? They stare at that little thing over the door that tells you what floor you’re on. They watch the numbers go up or down, and you would think that there was never anything so interesting in all the world to all those people on the elevator. They’re staring there: four … three … two …. What is so interesting about that? Why are they so focused on something so thoroughly predictable?

They’re staring because they don’t want to interact with anybody else on the elevator. They all feel very uncomfortable. Why? Because a trip on an elevator is not about fellowship along the way. It’s about getting from here to there. I want to get from the sixth floor to the first floor. I don’t care who else is on the elevator, and I’m not going to talk to him. There’s something about elevators that makes us all snobs.

Everybody’s that way in an elevator. As a matter of fact, if you do talk to somebody in an elevator, they start wondering. I saw on the internet one time a list of interesting things to do in an elevator. One of them was get on with a cooler, and on the side of it a little sign that says “human head,” and then just stand there. Or turn to the person right next to you and say, “I washed my socks yesterday!” And they wonder, what’s wrong with this guy? Why? Because a trip on an elevator is all about the destination. It’s not about who you’re with along the way.

But there’s another kind of trip. There’s another kind of walking.

When my wife and I were dating, sometimes we would go for walks. I would say to my then-girlfriend, “Do you want to go for a walk?” And she never said to me, “Where are we going?” Because when you’re going for a walk with someone you love, you don’t care where you’re going. It’s not about going anywhere; you’re going to end up right back where you started, except more in love than ever before. Going for a walk is about spending time with the person.

The night we got engaged, I took her out to a fancy restaurant and a nice couple next to us had a little baby and was kind enough to let us hear the baby cry all through the meal. Such a cute baby. After the meal I had the ring in my pocket, and I said, “You want to go for a walk?”

And she said, “You know, honest to goodness, I’m really tired. And I have kind of a headache. And I think I’ll just turn in early tonight.” She doesn’t understand what’s happening. And I said, “We’re going for a walk!” Got the ring in my pocket. And so we went for a walk. And later, she was glad that we went for a walk. And it’s become kind of a little story we tell about how she almost didn’t get married because she would rather take a nap.

But, you know, going for a walk is not about what floor you’re headed for. Going for a walk is about the person you’re with.

Now, every morning the God of heaven comes to you and he says, “Do you want to go for a walk?”

And almost without fail, we say to him, “Well, this isn’t really a good time. I got so much to do. I got to be in class at 7:30. And then there’s other things I have to do,” and it’s so busy, and you get to the end of the day, and you haven’t spent time in his Word, and you haven’t prayed. Oh, who has time to pray? And at the end of the day, God goes home alone.

And the next morning, he comes to us again, and he says, “You want to go for a walk?” And maybe you step back, and ask, “Where are you taking me?! Is this gonna hurt?”

And what does it do to his heart? What does it say about our priorities when we say, “Maybe another time”?

Do justly. Love mercy. Walk with God.

It’s not legalism to be really serious about doing these things. And deciding not to do these things deprives us of innumerable blessings.

These days a lot of people are angry, and afraid, and depressed.

Might this have something to do with that? Maybe?

Photo by Biegun Wschodni on Unsplash

On Good Demands, Part 3: Love Mercy

August 13, 2026 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Do Justly

Second, the Lord says, love mercy. The word translated “mercy” here–sometimes it’s translated “lovingkindness”–has three concepts in it.

First, there’s a relationship between these people. They’re not strangers; they have a relationship of some kind. One is having mercy toward the other. He’s showing lovingkindness. The Bible speaks of God’s lovingkindness toward Israel, of David’s lovingkindness toward Jonathan. There’s a relationship.

Secondly, there is consistency in the relationship. It’s not up and down. You’re not friends today and enemies tomorrow. You have a lovingkindness kind of relationship. It’s steady. This person is faithful in the relationship.

And third, there’s action taken on behalf of the relationship. The Bible talks a lot about doing mercy, showing mercy, making mercy.

Now, what do we call it when somebody has a relationship, and he is consistent to that relationship, and he does whatever it takes to keep that relationship going? What’s the word we use for that?

Loyalty.

Loyalty to a relationship. That’s what this kind of mercy is. God says, “I want you to love loyalty. I want you to be faithful in your relationships, your commitments, your relationship to me and your relationship to those around you.” We expect that from people close to us.

Back in the ancient Near East, where might made right and human rights were rarely thought of, history is defined by a series of empires that brutally imposed their will on anyone they could conquer. There was Assyria, and then Babylon. Then Cyrus the Great of Persia conquered Babylon during Belshazzar’s drunken feast, introducing a new age.

A few years later the new Persian king Xerxes was especially known for his cruelty. He decided to take down the upstart Greeks and marched through Turkey toward Macedonia. A father there, several of whose sons were in Xerxes’ army, asked if one of the sons could be released to help work the farm. Xerxes had all of his sons executed and cut in half, and marched his army through the divided corpses.

Nice guy.

Crossing from Turkey–Asia–into Macedonia–Europe–Xerxes came up against a band of a few thousand Greek soldiers, led by about 300 mostly Spartans who had positioned themselves blocking a pass at Thermopylae, rendering the Persian army’s advance impossible. The Spartans were notoriously well disciplined, and it appeared that they might repel the Persians.

Ephialtes of Trachis is probably not a name you recognize. He was a Macedonian, a local, who decided to show the Persian leadership a little side path that bypassed the blocked pass, allowing Xerxes to flank the Spartans, attack them from behind, and destroy them.

To put this story in American terms, Ephialtes wasn’t exactly about baseball, motherhood, and apple pie. We instinctively react viscerally against such betrayal.

As it turns out, the Persians were eventually repulsed in a sea battle, and Xerxes headed back to his palace with his tail between his legs. (Side note: we think this is when he went looking for Esther, perhaps to console himself.) Within decades, Greece became the new empire.

There are other famous traitors. Brutus (“Et tu, Brute?!”), Judas Iscariot, Benedict Arnold, Mata Hari, Vidkun Quisling, Tokyo Rose, the Rosenbergs, Aldrich Ames.

We expect better.

This mercy, this loyalty, is a characteristic of God. He is faithful to us. All throughout the Old Testament, God characterizes going after other gods as spiritual adultery. We are unfaithful to our heavenly husband every day of the week. And he is always faithful to us.

Lovingkindness. Loyalty. Commitment.

God asks that of us, and he has a right to.

Photo by Biegun Wschodni on Unsplash

Part 4: Walk with God

On Good Demands, Part 2: Do Justly

August 10, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Introduction

The first thing that God says he desires of his people is to do justly, to do justice. That’s the Hebrew word mishpat. This is the decision of a judge. What does a judge do? In the biblical context, the judge would hear the case and then he would ask, “What does the Law say?” Often, in biblical times and in modern, the judge would say, “What would I like the law to be?” And then he would render that decision. That is not “doing justly.”

How is it to be applied here? Most of us are not judges–but we do encounter disputes, and we do see situations where justice is not being done. How can I address this particular dispute in a way that conforms to what the law says? Justice is all about conformity to a standard, measuring up. God says in Proverbs 16.11, “A just weight and balance are the Lord’s; all the weights of the bag are his work.”

A “just” weight.

They used balances in those days. And you put the meat or the grain or whatever over on the left side, and then you took weights–they were usually stones in those days. Now we have those little metal weights that you use in high school physics lab.

You put 100 grams over on the right and the thing you’re weighing doesn’t move up. So you put 50 more and it moves up a little bit, and you put 10 more and it goes too far. And so you take the 10 off and you put 5, and you measure it out. We all know that that system doesn’t work unless the weights are what they claim to be–unless they meet the standard.

And so God says, You need to have a just weight when you say this is a bushel of grain. When you say this is a pound of meat, it better be a pound of meat. It better be accurate. That’s a just weight, conforming to the standard.

God says, I want you to do justly. I want you to obey me. I want you to measure up to the standard. And when I say care for the fatherless and the widow, I want you to do that. I don’t want you to abuse your power. I don’t want you to make a game of the law. I want you to use it to help my people do justice.

“Thou shalt not respect the person of the poor, nor honour the person of the mighty: but in righteousness shalt thou judge thy neighbor” (Lev 19.15).

“Ye shall have one manner of law, as well for the stranger, as for one of your own country: for I am the Lord your God” (Lev 24.22).

“Thou shalt not pervert the judgment of the stranger, nor of the fatherless; nor take a widow’s raiment to pledge” (Dt 24.17).

In the New Testament, James says, Do you want to know what real religion is? It’s to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep yourself unspotted from the world (Jam 1.27). Visit the fatherless and widows. That doesn’t mean drop by, say “Hi, how are you?” Have a cup of tea and then leave.

It means roll up your sleeves and do whatever is necessary to solve that problem. Get involved. Take action on behalf of the fatherless and the widow. Do justice.

That’s probably going to cost you something, at least in time and thought if not money. It’s going to require a commitment. Getting involved.

And that’s the first thing out of God’s mouth in terms of what his heart is for us. Do justice. Do what God says. He condemns governments that use their power to abuse their people (Is 1.23; 10.2; Jer 7.6; 22.3; Ezk 22.7; Zec 7.10; Mal 3.5).

You find yourself in a position of power. You may not think so, but even children are often older siblings. Most adults are parents. You might be a manager, or the owner of a small business. In one way or another, you’re likely in a position of power.

Injustice, by definition, is using that position of power to take advantage of people who don’t have it, who are weak. And God says, do justice.

How seriously should we take this? Well, when Abraham is conversing with God about the fate of Sodom, he says, “Shall not the judge of all the earth do mishpat?” (Gen 18.25).

And shall we not as well?

In his farewell song to Israel, Moses sings, “He is the Rock, his work is perfect: For all his ways are mishpat: A God of truth and without iniquity, Just and right is he” (Dt 32.4).

First thing, do justly.

Photo by Biegun Wschodni on Unsplash

Part 3: Love Mercy | Part 4: Walk with God

On Good Demands, Part 1: Introduction

August 6, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

When Jesus was asked what was the greatest commandment in the law, we all know that he went to Deuteronomy 6.4-5. Perhaps you’ve heard why he was asked about that: among the rabbis there was a long discussion about what was the greatest commandment in the law. You can read in the literature of the time that Micah 6.8 is one of the verses that had been nominated for that standing.

He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good; And what doth the LORD require of thee, But to do justly, and to love mercy, And to walk humbly with thy God?

Christ directed us to the Deuteronomy passage, but this statement in Micah has always been a favorite of the rabbis–and it is, after all, the word of God. I’d like to spend a few posts mining the wealth that is here.

A key to understanding this verse is understanding its larger context in Micah.

Micah writes to the nation of Israel, both the northern and the southern kingdoms. In the last days of the northern kingdom, in the 700s BC, it went into captivity into Assyria; and about 150 years later, the southern kingdom went into captivity as well. Micah is writing during the last days of the northern kingdom before Assyria moves in. And he’s writing to both halves of the nation.

In the early part of the book, he condemns the northern kingdom of Israel for its sin: in chapter 1, for idolatry; Israel had an ongoing problem with idolatry, which God calls spiritual adultery, seeking other gods. In chapter 2, he condemns them for their violence, particularly by the leadership of the country; and in chapter 3, for corruption in government.

On the basis of this, he says that the northern kingdom is going to be punished by this nation of Assyria. But he says that Assyria shouldn’t get a swelled head, because it’s an instrument of God in this case. He’s going to deal with Assyria as well. In chapter 4 he talks about the southern kingdom, Judah, and the fact that it will have a future. But first it’s to be judged by a nation called Babylon (Mic 4.10).

This is a remarkable evidence of inspiration. At this time Babylon was a has-been. Once regionally dominant, it had just been conquered by Assyria and reduced to having no political influence. And Micah says, one day Babylon is going to bring God’s judgment on the southern kingdom of Judah.

In chapter 5 he describes the coming Babylonian king. But for the meantime, in chapter 6, he talks about the judgment that’s coming, even on the southern kingdom. He recalls Balaam’s prophecy of judgment from centuries before (Mic 6.5).

Remember the sins of your fathers, he says, and don’t continue in those sins. Don’t reject God. Don’t turn away from his plan for you.

An indication of how godless this nation was appears in Micah 6.6-7. They respond to God’s gentle plea with what is probably the most blasphemous couple of verses in all of the scripture:

Wherewith shall I come before the Lord and bow myself before the high God? Shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves of a year old? Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams or with ten thousands of rivers of oil? Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?

The people of Judah ask the same question that man in rebellion against God has always asked:

What do you want from me?

You want me to kill 10,000 rams? How about if I sacrifice my firstborn son? Will that make you happy?

This is a statement of rebellion and arrogance that is almost without parallel in the scripture.

Normally, when you go to someone who’s a lot bigger than you are, and you talk like that to him, something very bad is going to happen to you.

It is a measure of the goodness and grace and tenderness and love of God that a lightning bolt doesn’t descend from heaven on those rebels and leave them all dying in the dirt. God doesn’t answer them in anger or with violence. He answers them softly, gently.

You don’t have to ask that question, he says. I’ve told you what I want, and it’s nothing like offering your son. (The irony here is marked.)

It’s just three simple things:

do justly
love mercy
walk humbly with me

This is a verse that’s filled with tenderness, with relationship. I think it’s remarkable the tenderness with which God answers this act of blasphemy.

It’s almost as though he realizes that he needs to calm this petulant child down. He lowers his voice, and he speaks softly and gently.

It doesn’t do any good to shout at somebody who’s shouting at you. You let them speak and drain their energy. And then when you speak, you speak quietly and tenderly and measuredly. And you try to restore calmness to that very tense situation.

It’s almost as though that’s what God is doing here.

He says, You don’t have to ask me what I want. You don’t have to attack me by suggesting that I want you to murder your children for me. That’s not the kind of God I am. He says, I’ve shown you what I want.

And he says, They’re good things. Do justly, love mercy, walk humbly with thy God. Three very important principles. And they’re not the caricature that you painted in verses 6 and 7. They’re not nutty; they’re not burdensome. They’re things that will bless you, help you, make your life better. I’m not asking you to hurt yourself.

Next time, we’ll begin to delve into these good expectations.

Photo by Biegun Wschodni on Unsplash

Part 2: Do Justly | Part 3: Love Mercy | Part 4: Walk with God

On Humor

August 3, 2026 by Dan Olinger 3 Comments

Like most people, I’ve always liked humor. During my Cub Scout days, when I had a subscription to Boys’ Life magazine, I always turned first to the last page, “Think and Grin,” which was a whole page–a whole page!–of jokes. I’d spend the next few days trying them on my family, with only middling success. I later came to appreciate their patience.

During my teaching career, I used a fair amount of humor, first because I enjoyed it, and second because it seemed to keep my students more engaged than they otherwise would have been. In my student evaluations I’d get a lot of positive comments about that. Eventually I began to wonder whether students liked my classes more because of the humor than because they were actually accomplishing the course objectives; I didn’t see a strong correlation between grades and positive evaluation scores.

I suppose college-aged students are not consistently mature.

Over the years I’ve noticed that humor can be used for great good but also for great harm. I’ve come to believe that the difference boils down to the two Great Commandments: is my humor demonstrating love for God? is it demonstrating love for the hearer?

How do we demonstrate love for God? For starters, by reverence. I never tell jokes about God. Ever. The Creator of heaven and earth is not a punch line–even if a thought shows up spontaneously in conversation. I don’t think such humor is appropriate.

What about loving your neighbor? There are professional humorists whose primary motivation is selfish–they’re trying to make a living at it. The temptation for them is to care not a whit about whether they’re spiritually edifying their audience. Comics know that the easiest way to get a laugh is to use what they call “blue humor”; they throw in bad language, or a “dirty joke,” or a reference to some kind of vulgarity or obscenity. Moral considerations aside, I’ve always considered that lazy and cheap. In a secular environment, people with no talent at all can easily get a laugh that way. Coming up with thoughtful, intelligent, genuinely entertaining humor is much more difficult.

And it’s for a similar reason that I’m not a big fan of jokes anymore. I don’t find memorizing canned humor very rewarding. I don’t see the accomplishment in being “king of the one-liners.”

I’m much more interested in what comics call “situational humor”: finding the humor in a given event or other situation. That’s typically contemporary, like what political commentators do, and often spontaneous, like livening up a fast-moving conversation by noting an irony or inserting a common memory among friends. That requires background knowledge and mental quickness, and if you miss the opportunity, you can’t typically bring it up later, after the moment has passed.

That’s discouraging to people who are trying primarily to be the center of attention; it tends to weed out the self-centered people, including those who are trying merely to top the last guy’s story with one of their own.

Humor doesn’t have to be trivial; I think it’s part of the image of God in all of us, though of course to different degrees, and though it’s not always appropriate; that’s another way we love our neighbors in our use of it.

Well, if shock humor is out, what makes humor funny? I think that there’s more than one source of humor. Let me suggest a couple.

Cognitive Dissonance

Some things are funny because they’re not normal; they’re out of place. When a toddler, imitating his father, calls his mom by her first name, that’s hilarious–again, assuming it’s not done in an offensive context.

One form of this type of humor is the “sight gag,” the visual presentation of dissonant or inappropriate elements. I once saw a commercial for windows that showed two women admiring a newly installed window in the house. Through the window, the viewers see (presumably) the man of the house setting up a grill in the back yard. As the women talk, describing the benefits of the window, the man struggles to get the grill lit while being distracted by the family dog. The grill eventually falls over, bursts into flame, and explodes, flying up out of the screen and falling to earth in the corner of the yard several seconds later. It’s hilarious. Why? Because it’s simply inconceivable that the women are so absorbed in a mere window that they don’t notice. In essence, the advertiser is making light of his own product. I suspect that the ad campaign was a success.

I see biblical evidence that God enjoys this kind of humor in the story of Haman, whose pride most certainly leads to his downfall: “whom would the king want to honor more than moi?” (Es 6.6).

Surprise

This is the effectiveness of the “punch line”:

A man once heard that the way to live a long and healthy life was to eat a teaspoonful of gunpowder every day. So he did. And he lived well into his 80s. When he died, he left behind a wife, 8 children, 19 grandchildren, 6 great-grandchildren, and a 12-foot hole in the wall of the crematorium.

It’s the last word that does it.

Disciplined humor. For those who go to the effort to execute it well, it can be useful tool for evangelism, edification, and even worship through appreciation of the image of God.

Photo by Denis Agati on Unsplash

On Ministry, Excursus: Paul after Acts

July 30, 2026 by Dan Olinger 2 Comments

In Part 9 of this series I raised the issue of the outcome of Paul’s hearing before Caesar after the end of the book of Acts. As promised, I’m going to take this post to lay out my thinking on that question.

We know that every Roman citizen–and Paul was one (Ac 22.28)–had the right to appeal directly to Caesar for justice. Paul did that when he saw that he was not going to get a fair trial in Judea (Ac 25.11).

Now, Caesar is a Very Busy Man, and one who holds the imperium, and with it the absolute power of life and death. You don’t demand his time unless you’re pretty sure you have a case. As a lifelong citizen, Paul knew how the system worked, and he was no idiot. He had a good case.

But there’s considerably more evidence than this.

While he is under house arrest in Rome, awaiting the hearing of his appeal (Ac 28.30), he wrote the four “prison epistles” (Philemon, Colossians, Ephesians, and Philippians, probably in that order). In those epistles he expresses optimism about his prognosis; he makes plans to visit Philemon after his release (Phm 22) and to visit Philippi (Php 1.25; 2.24). These comments likely came toward the beginning and then toward the end of his two-year imprisonment, respectively; his outlook was likely consistent throughout, despite the delay.

Throughout the arrest process, the Roman officials consistently see no merit in the charge by the Jewish leaders. The arresting officer, Claudius Lysias, told the procurator, Felix, that Paul was not “worthy of death or [even] bonds” (Ac 23.29). Felix kept him in bonds, but apparently only in hopes of receiving a bribe (Ac 24.26), and Festus, his successor, expressed puzzlement as to how he was to explain to Caesar any sensible reason for Paul’s initial arrest (Ac 25.13-21).

While it’s true that Caesar–Nero–famously went cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs and initiated a violent and broad persecution of Christians, that came later, apparently when he needed to find someone to blame for his inept handling of–his “fiddling” during–the burning of Rome in AD 64. Paul’s appeal came to him four years before that. In fact, about that time–AD 60–there was a release of a group of Jewish priests under Nero (cf. Josephus, Vita, paragraph 3; Schaff, History of the Christian Church, 1.33.6).

As we’ve noted already, 2 Timothy 4.16-17 sounds very much like a recounting of his appeal hearing and acquittal. Given the evidence already cited, it’s hard for me to believe that the hearing took more than about 15 minutes. We know that earlier, in Corinth, the procurator Gallio had dismissed a similar charge against Paul without even hearing his defense (Ac 18.12-17). There’s hardly any greater way for a judge to indicate the weakness of a plaintiff’s case than that.

Finally, there’s a broad and consistent tradition in the church fathers that Paul traveled to and preached in Spain, a significant event that is completely unaccounted for in Acts:

Clement of Rome (AD 80-140) writes that Paul “reached the farthest bounds of the West,” or Gibraltar (1Cl 5.6);
the Muratonian Canon (AD 170-200) notes that Luke omitted “the journey of Paul, when he went from the city (Rome) to Spain” (MC 37);
Eusebius (AD 263-339), the “father of church history,” writes, “After he had made his defense it is said that the apostle was sent again upon the ministry of preaching, and that upon coming to the same city a second time he suffered martyrdom” (Eccles. Hist. 2.22.2);
Cyril of Jerusalem (AD 318-386) writes that Paul “carried the earnestness of his preaching as far as Spain” (Catechism 17.26);
Chrysostom (AD 347-407) preached, “After he had been in Rome, he returned to Spain” (Homily X on 2 Timothy 4.9-13, verse 20).

Parallel to this evidence regarding a Spain journey are several references in the Pastorals, which I think were written after Nero released him, that describe him going places and doing things that are also not accounted for in Acts: Paul’s traveling from Ephesus to Macedonia without Timothy (1Ti 1.3); his leaving Titus in Crete (Ti 1.5); wintering at Nicopolis (Ti 3.12); leaving Trophimus sick at Miletus (2Ti 4.20).

I should note that I am indebted to the research of Otto F. Meinardus in The Biblical Archaeologist (June 1978) for much of the information about patristic references to Paul’s travel to Spain. The link is behind a paywall, but a library with a subscription to JSTOR will have access.

Further, Leon Morris has a good summary of these arguments in his Introduction to the New Testament .

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On Ministry, Part 10: Summary

July 27, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

So what have we learned?

We’ve started with the premise that although there is a place for “full-time Christian service” and a “vocational ministry,” the Scripture calls all believers to “the ministry” in a certain sense. We are all called to serve one another, to be servants at heart and in action (1Co 12.5). Service follows logically from the second great commandment, to love our neighbor as ourselves (Mk 12.31).

What should that service look like? Well, because we are each gifted and talented in different ways, we will render services of different sorts and levels of influence. But there will be some guiding principles and common characteristics.

Probably the fundamental defining characteristic is that the minister is not focused on his own needs; he is thinking of and working on behalf of others. This is the essential characteristic of love, the obligation of every follower of Jesus.

We must admit that we all fall far short of this expectation. We simply cannot consistently elevate the needs of others above our own. This is going to require divine enablement, which we receive through the person of the Son–we are “in him” (Ep 3.6)–and the means of grace, including Scripture, prayer, and fellowship. These are powerful enablers, ones that few of us recognize as essential to our daily, serious practice.

We’ve noted that there are church offices in which some Christians serve full-time in “ministry.” The seriousness of the qualifications for these offices (1Ti 3.1-13; Titus 1.5-9) evidence just how seriously we “laity” should take our own “ministry” in the body.

We start this process by caring about the truth. We learn, from our pastor’s preaching and from our own diligent and well-informed study, what the Scripture teaches–that’s called “doctrine”–and conform our thinking and teaching, either to groups or one on one, to it. If we’re loving others, then we’re influencing them in the direction of revealed divine truth, not our own opinions or priorities.

Paul’s case studies in ministry–widows (1Ti 5.3-16) and elders (1Ti 5.17-25)–demonstrate that the church should see to it that the needs of these specific classes are met. We should all play a part in that, and we should expand that care and provision to all the manifold types of people that participate in the body of Christ.

I suppose we could summarize the rest of the subject under two main responsibilities.

First, take it seriously. Give this task serious thought; prioritize this thoughtfulness throughout the life of the church. What should we be doing? How should we do these things responsibly and effectively? What specific things am I particularly qualified to do, and what things should be better assigned to those with different gifts and circumstances? This will likely call for thoughtful and careful coordination across the church body.

But there’s also a place for keeping certain things to yourself. You can perform acts of service that no one else knows about, not letting your right hand know what your left hand is doing (Mt 6.3). As an elder I once had a church member hand me an envelope–a thick one–with the name of a young couple in the church and ask me to deliver it to them anonymously. Nobody needed to know.

Second, keep at it. We’ve mentioned the sequence of Paul’s imperatives here: contentment, loyalty, commitment. When all is said and done, Just Do It. And keep doing it.

This is not easy. No one said it would be.

But it’s glorious. The joy it brings, even in the midst of a congregation of sinners, is inexpressible. There are heavenly rewards, of course, which the Bible talks about (2Ti 4.8; 1P 5.4)–so it’s not unspiritual to be motivated by them. But the earthly rewards in joy and unity and quiet satisfaction are sufficient.

As they should be, for serving such a Master.

Next time, the promised New Testament background to Paul’s appeal to Caesar.

Photo by Mélyna Côté on Unsplash

On Ministry, Part 9: Endurance

July 23, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Paul spends the last half of 2 Timothy focused on a single theme: endurance. The logical progress here is evident: the servant’s contentment in God’s service leads to his loyalty to his master, which in turn produces commitment to the task, which over the long haul enables him to endure through the difficulties that the task naturally involves.

Paul sets up his charge to endure by contrasting two philosophies and their outcomes: those who don’t endure, and those who do.

Paul begins this section with one of his “sin lists” (2Th 3.1-5). We might be tempted to think that he’s describing the world at large–it does sound reminiscent of Romans 1 in places–but I’d suggest that he is rather narrowing his description to the false teachers who will attempt to corrupt the church; he concludes the list by acknowledging that they have “a form of godliness,” despite all the corruption that precedes in the list. And the consequence of their activity is “leading captive” those who are apparently in the church, at least visibly (2Ti 3.6). Further, he compares them with a couple of false prophets who opposed Moses in the Torah (2Ti 3.8).

He contrasts that with the kind of person he expects Timothy to be in the church (2Ti 3.10-12)–following Paul’s example, even despite persecution–which will come upon all true servants of God: hence the need for endurance, bearing up under difficulty.

And it will only get worse (2Ti 3.13); endurance will require more strength (2Ti 3.14). Where are we going to get that strength? From the Scripture (2Ti 3.15-17). Most of us have memorized these verses as support for the inspiration of Scripture. But we should note the context in which this appears: preparation for endurance in a lifelong battle against error and evil.

This is serious business. Our interaction with the Bible matters. A lot. Better pay attention.

He continues this theme into the fourth and final chapter, raising the stated stakes with a formal charge before God (2Ti 4.1): “preach the Word” (2Ti 4.2).

Here again we need to pause for some thoughtful discernment. Is this a command for just “preachers,” or for all believers?

Well, most believers won’t formally preach, and even fewer will hold the pastoral office. But we are all commanded to take the gospel to the ends of the earth, as the children’s song exhorts us to “be a missionary every day!”

And Paul warns that the natural tendency is to slip away (2Ti 4.3-4); turns out there’s a second law of thermodynamics in the spiritual life as well as for houses and gardens and physical fitness. (On reflection, I suppose that’s not actually a law of thermodynamics at all, is it?)

So Timothy needs to stick with it. Paul’s example is going to transition from visible to historical (2Ti 4.6-8); he is about to “go to his reward,”–a reward, by the way, that is waiting for all Jesus’ followers who, by the grace of God, endure (2Ti 4.8).

In the epistle’s closing words Paul is doing more than just wrapping up some personal business. He continues the contrast between faithful endurance and the lack of it; Demas has departed both physically and spiritually (2Ti 4.10). Crescens and Titus are absent only physically, but the absence is still less than ideal. These and other absences (2Ti 4.11-15) increase Paul’s difficulty; he could use some relief, some strengthening in the battle.

But apparently the peak of the difficulty is described in verse 16, when Paul was forsaken by everybody. There’s discussion about what specifically Paul is speaking of here; I believe he’s recalling his appeal before Caesar, which would have occurred just after his two years of house arrest at the end of Acts. Thus I think Paul was acquitted on his appeal (2Ti 4.17) and released to do more preaching.

Maybe at the end of this series I’ll lay out my reasons for thinking that.

So. Follow Paul’s example, despite the hardship, the opposition, the lies, even death.

Endure. By the grace of God, you can do this.

Next time, a recap, and after that, my basis for thinking Paul was acquitted by Caesar–in about 15 minutes, by my estimate.

Photo by Mélyna Côté on Unsplash

On Ministry, Part 8: Commitment

July 20, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

With chapter 2 of this shorter epistle to Timothy, Paul turns to a slightly different nuance of the characteristics of ministry. He’s just discussed loyalty and noted that God is the one who empowers it. His servants stay with the plan.

Now, why do we stay with the plan? Well, in human terms, because we believe in it; we think staying with the plan is a wise choice.

And what do we call that?

Commitment.

Watch how Paul develops that thought in this chapter.

He begins by telling his readers, “Don’t quit on me” (2Th 2.2).

Why not? Because there’s a plan and process in place. God is moving history toward a good and certain end, as he is of course able to do. It will lead to a climactic act of judgment, “the day of Christ”–which will almost certainly last more than 24 hours.

But that will be climactic; other things will lead up to it: a “falling away” (Greek apostasia) and then the revelation of a “man of sin” (2Th 2.3). The troubling rise of this powerful world figure is described (2Th 2.4). But for the present, something is preventing that.

Throughout church history there have been different views of who or what this restraining force is. Early on some thought it was the Roman Empire, the “Pax Romana.” Some think it’s the Holy Spirit indwelling believers, who will be taken away when Christ returns.

Since I believe that God intends his people not to understand predictive prophecy until the time of fulfillment, I’m not going to try to figure out who it is. Suffice it to say that at some point this restraining force will be removed, and the apostasy and the man of sin will come to pass. It’s been two millennia since Paul wrote this letter, so it could certainly be time; but then again, it may not be, either. Who says it can’t be a few more millennia?

At any rate, at some point this “day of Christ” judgment will come to pass (2 Th 2.8-9). And there will be people–lots of people, apparently– who do bail. These are people who do not serve God, who are not, as we described last time, loyal. They are headed for perdition (2Th 2.12).

Note Paul’s next word.

“But.”

Paul has set up this whole scenario to serve as a contrast.

It isn’t going to be this way for everybody.

There is another group of people, including those to whom he’s writing, who will not bail.

Why not?

Because they are “beloved of the Lord,” “chosen to salvation through sanctification and belief of the truth” (2Th 2.13).

Note the synergism here. They have been chosen–and they believe. They were called (2Th 2.14), and they stand fast (2Th 2.15).

They “hold the traditions” (2Th 2.15). This word “hold” is sometimes used to mean “seize” (Mk 3.21; Ac 3.11) or “arrest” (Mt 14.3; 26.48).. Now a word doesn’t mean everything it means every time it’s used–we call that “the illegitimate totality transfer fallacy“–but it’s clearly reasonable to see this sentence as speaking to hanging on to the traditions for dear life.

Ministers are committed to the loyalty they’ve expressed. They hang on.

We’re committed to both the apostolic preaching and the apostolic writing (2Th 2.15).

And look what happens next: more synergism. We hold fast, and God “stablishes” us “in every word and work” (2Th 2.16).

Hang on, my friends.

Photo by Mélyna Côté on Unsplash