Revelation is probably not best approached with some ambition to “figure it out” or “nail it down” once-and-for-all, as if it weren’t simply a sincere description of realities that are themselves beyond our vantage point.  That doesn’t mean striving to understand Revelation is not worthwhile (it’s quite rewarding).  And, it turns out, the helpful framework is actually pretty simple:  Revelation can be considered “the real philosophy of history” (Hendriksen, p. 34); it is a series of visions depicting -  in various ways, from various vantage points, with various particular intentions – the time and events, or, rather, the realities and conditions between the first and second comings of Christ.

Too often the attention given to Revelation either, on one hand, obsesses with decoding it in terms of contemporary events or, on the other hand, tries to avoid it as much as possible with blanket summary statements.  Even for those who hold a generally reliable framework for the rest of the Bible, it is simply hard to hold together in one’s mind all that the different visions in Revelation tell.  But when (at least for a while) one can grasp it accurately, one cannot help but marvel at how beautifully it all fits together.  I say “at least for a while” because I have found that when I first re-open to one of the middle visions in the book it still takes me a few minutes to refresh how it fits in the whole, and I have a little work to do before I can see clearly again how it all fits together.  I expect that clarity will be easier and easier to maintain with practice.

It seems to me that one reason Revelation carries the reputation of being difficult or inaccessible is that a proper introduction to it might require a full book the size and weight of Hendriksen’s.  However, for those willing to make patient and sustained investments, sources like More than Conquerors can provide a helpfully unifying vision of Revelation.  This particular commentary also offers  deeply devotional reading, as the author walks through the pastoral intentions of each section.

In More than Conquerors, Hendriksen first excellently explains the book’s format and themes (particularly chapters 1-6, p. 7-50).  These chapters give tremendous benefit to understanding Revelation, thinking clearly about it and benefiting from it.  Then, in chapters 7 through 14, Hendriksen proceed to guide us in considering the texts as they are, highlighting the themes and urging us toward responses of devotion and application.  If you want a good statement of the themes of Revelation and their import for us, you’d be better served by Hendriksen’s book itself than any summary of it I could provide now.

On general reading or study of Revelation – We should seek to learn and become more and more familiar with the interpretative framework (whichever one(s) are most faithful to the rest of Scripture).  But beyond that, we should not be disproportionately obsessed with interpreting Revelation.  Instead, with that framework in mind, we should regularly read and reflect on the book for its guiding philosophy.

We do not need to interpret Revelation perhaps so much as we need to interpret our times by it.

The book’s main theme concerns the particularly costly effects of television – a medium that forces everything into entertainment and values entertainment inordinately above all else. But the remedies were only along those lines of understanding and using television for what it is, not any attempts to alter what television is. The book is overall much longer on diagnosis (and prognosis) and much shorter on prescription.

We need to understand something of the ways our technology and media effect our assumptions, thought patterns and cultures – to some extent, the general ways that any media imports ideology, but more importantly, the particular ways that whatever medium we’re using (he was considering television) effects us.

The real dangers, he said, are when historical inventions like the alphabet, the printing press, television (now so many more digital developments) become so predominant in a culture that people forget that these things are not inherent to truth and reality; there was a time when thoughts and information were mediated in other ways, and the particular ways they’re now mediated naturally carry consequences and implications – to the point of effecting both content itself and the way the users construct their own world-views.

A few excerpts: “You will not find two high school seniors in a hundred who could tell you – within a five hundred year margin of error – when the alphabet was invented. I suspect most do not even know that the alphabet was invented. … they appear puzzled, as if one asked, When were trees invented, or clouds? It is the very principle of myth…that it transforms history into nature” (pages 162). His suggested objective for educators was that students “learn how to distance themselves from their forms of information” (p 163).

And so demythologizing our media was the essence of Postman’s suggestions. Teaching people to engage television (or any medium) with understanding. Promoting awareness, simply recognizing that media effects not only the content but also the epistemological assumptions we form. In order to use television in helpful ways, we have to understand it for what it is – not a basic part of the natural order of truth and information, but one particular medium that carries particular characteristics. Promoting and teaching that awareness is Postman’s basic suggestion.

Postman’s only really practical suggestion was to teach people to question their media and to think about it. He didn’t mention the family much as a context for learning how to watch tv; instead he talked about what could be done in classrooms.

As for our family, I think that some standards for how much tv we watch each week is probably a fine baseline measure (although Amber and I aren’t great about counting that; we just strive to maintain a disposition that defaults away from, not toward, tv. Then, we sometimes say, “ok, let’s watch ______” instead of “what should we watch?” or “let’s see what’s on.”)

I don’t think that’s too high of a bar. But part of the built-in norms working for us is that we only get the basic 15 channels or so that come free. I think the best thing we do currently is deliberately trying to cultivate understanding. For instance, I will try to ask our four-year-old to identify what each commercial is trying to sell; some are easy (Ford trucks), others are remarkably subtle (Nike). (Our two-year-old doesn’t even sit still to watch much, and I don’t want to call his attention to it). We talk during the programs and ask content questions, or if we’re watching a ball game we talk about how the game itself works.

The focus on television feels dated now. I assume our generation and our children will have to wrestle with other mediums more than TV (although the historical shifts Postman described have not reverted and certainly condition us; i.e., we carry some high expectations for all things to be entertaining). The principles for how media work, how they carry their own epistemologies and how crucial awareness is to healthy and helpful usage all seem very valuable, still.

In this work, Tim Challies sets out to consider the implications of the digital age for Christian believers.  He maintains an important clarity and appreciation for technology itself, recognizing the legitimate good of it.  He offers many helpful insights on the day-to-day dynamics that digital technologies bring. Furthermore, Challies provides a sound Biblical basis on relevant topics such as communication, mediation and identity, distraction, information, truth and authority, and visibility and privacy (chps 4-9). Challies’ transparency, himself a participant in the digital age, learning and striving for faithfulness, gives voice to his authenticity.  And, in perhaps his main distinction, Challies writes with an essentially pastoral concern; his consistent purpose throughout is that believers be equipped and encouraged to honor God by the ways they live in this new environment, engage with digital technologies and improve upon the opportunities afforded.

The Next Story opens with a portrayal of the scope of the digital explosion (which scarcely can be overstated), and then approaches the subject in different regards:  theoretical, theological and experiential.  It’s clearly important to understand something of all three in order to function with understanding, discernment and faithfulness in our new environment – the digital age.

With the pace of technological change so rapid, it might be that the situational aspects of Challies’ work would soon sound dated.  But I don’t think that liability will be too big, since he’s writing more toward the principle effects of digital technologies and the character of faithful dispositions.  I don’t think the value or benefit from this work would diminish much at all as updates and renovations to technology proceed.

My wife and I are reading together now Amusing Ourselves to Death (1985), which I had seen referenced in many other works over the past several years, and which Challies cites in The Next Story, as well.  The most basic and preliminary benefits from that work might be simple awareness – just to be mindful of the ways technologies and communication mediums in particular effect not only how we communicate but also what we communicate and eventually also how we think.  Challies’ work carries those same strengths of awareness, and then more.

The day after I finished reading The Next Story, I upgraded my own technology to include an iPhone.  So far, I really like the convenience and functionality.  And although distraction and fragmented attention spans already heavily characterized our culture, in these few short days with my new device, I’ve seen first hand how new technologies and enhanced connectivity can quickly amplify the powers of distraction to blur our thought.  I think one of the corresponding distinctive needs of our age will be (already is) for sustained focus and clarity of thought.  Challies’ book effectively articulates most of the dangers, but it can be so easy to just move on when the environment we live in so subtly yet consistently undermines the messages themselves.

The Next Story  is substantive and worthy of some sustained attention.  But it is not academic (not that such a quality is bad or unhelpful), and it is not overly challenging.  I think it’s worth recommending to many and using in discipleship or teaching, especially those my age or younger.  I hope many will thoughtfully engage with the book.

The two qualifications I would give should not hinder an appreciative reading:  (1) it’s written particularly toward people with either responsibilities or ambitions for explicitly recognized leadership.  To some extent, of course, everyone has responsibilities and opportunities to influence others and lead (and the author recognizes as much); but the book takes leadership itself as the starting point for most of its considerations.  That’s not a bad thing, just a factor.

and (2) he writes with a conversational tone, very accessible and personable; the limitation there can be that sometimes it feels like he’s jumping from one illustration to another or even from one point to another in a somewhat fragmented way.  But it’s a book that can be read fairly quickly and easily, and there’s no need to try to deeply digest any one point before moving through the overall flow.

That said, Allender offers some tremendously valuable insights and fresh perspectives.  The core strengths include: (1) a basic recognition that humility and glad dependence on Christ lie in the essence of health; we cannot rightly comprehend leadership apart from these recognitions of our own limitations and God’s centrality to all things.  And (2) maturity is, in many ways, the goal of all leadership.  I greatly appreciate these points, and I would guess that books on leadership in general usually would miss them.

The book offers more than just a recognition of those points, for sure.  He includes a slightly different and very helpful look at the roles of prophet, priest, and king, for instance.  He discusses character formation, communities/teams and calling in honest and Biblical ways.  It would be a good book for many to read and discuss.

“Some may ask, then, why did He not manifest Himself by some means of other and nobler parts of creation, and use such as sun or moon or stars or fire or air, instead of mere man?  The answer is this.  The Lord did not come to make a display.  He came to heal and to teach suffering men.  For one who wanted to make a display the thing would have been just to appear and dazzle the beholders.  But for Him Who came to heal and to teach the way was not merely to dwell here, but to put Himself at the disposal of those who needed Him, and to be manifested according as they could bear it, not vitiating the value of the Divine appearing by exceeding their capacity to receive it.”

Consider Elijah’s encounter not in the whirlwind or the fire but in the still, small whisper.  Consider Jesus’ humility – Philippians 2, John 13, etc.  Consider, also, the dignity conferred on man made in God’s imagine – and amplified by the incarnation:  that God the Son Himself took on human nature makes human nature necessarily a profoundly noble nature (cf. John Owen’s The Glory of Christ).  See Psalm 8.

Humility and glory are held here together – in God’s own self-humbling love for His people, and in the pattern into which we are called.  Our own glory lies in Christ, exclusively, of course.  More specifically, it lies in following Christ in accommodating ourselves, our message, our hope to the capacities and appreciations of those we love and serve, disregarding opportunities to aggrandize ourselves.  Psalm 115:1 and John the Baptist’s model – “I must decrease that he may increase” (John 1:30ish).

Very informative on economics, politics, personnel and foreign policy all throughout the eighties, The Age of Reagan provides an excellent source of general American history of that decade.  The author is undisguised in his overall respect and appreciation for Reagan, but he also brings criticism and flaws of his subject to the fore with candid and sustained attention.

Hayward’s work is thorough, well-researched and significant both in depth and in scope.  I found the book insightful, educational and fun to read.

I found the focus throughout the book on both individual and corporate level expressions of justice to be crucial.  In the context of corporate level fight against oppression, Ellis gave two different groups of assertions in chapter 9, including these two:  “The Bible is our basis for freedom and dignity” (p.131) and “We need a radical change if we want justice” (p. 132).  In light of those acknowledgments, though, I would question #4 from page 132:  “If our community functions as a nation, we can move toward freedom and dignity.”

It is crucial to acknowledge that institutional and corporate measures – not only individual steps – must be taken to bring justice and fight oppression.  But I think Ellis glosses over one distinction that really matters regarding our role.  On both the individual and the corporate levels, we must fight against our own tendencies to oppress others; we cannot, at least not in the same ways, fight against others‘ tendencies to oppress.

From Isaiah 2, among other places, I think we see a universal characteristic of human sin nature in tendencies toward oppression.  So all groups, the rich, the poor, the established majorities and the struggling minorities, all groups have a sinful tendency toward oppressive/exploitative violation of other groups – just as all individual people have sinful tendencies to promote self at the expense of others.  How that oppressive/exploitative character expresses itself will certainly vary, given the variable levels of power and opportunity the individual or group has.  So, certainly we can speak meaningfully of oppressors and the oppressed, and make distinctions between them.

Still, what’s crucial is not a clear delineation between the good guys and the bad guys, but between the good and the bad, between freedom and oppression, between justice and injustice.  What’s needed is a commitment to freedom and justice and a hatred for oppression and injustice, and a love for mercy and righteousness. Too often we get distracted with a hatred for those we perceive to be the oppressors.  Too often we neglect the oppressive tendencies in our own hearts.

The call must be – and Ellis does give it – to fight oppression in ourselves and in our groups and to resist oppression everywhere we encounter it.  We cannot fight other people’s battles against their own oppressive tendencies for them (hence my question about p. 132 above).  We must resist their oppression as faithfully as we can and humbly leave room for them to fight their inner sin, just as we should prioritize our own inner fight against our own sin.

We must maintain the mentality that even the oppressed do not hold the moral high ground.  We must see ourselves as both oppressed and as sinful oppressors.  And we must commit to relate to others – including through our resistance -  through an economy of grace, because grace is what we all require to be made whole.

We should seek justice, righteousness, freedom and dignity for all people – and seek those qualities not only as ends for some particular groups, but to build our strategies on those qualities as means, trusting that the benefit carried by any engagement in social reform will be directly determined by that engagement’s adherence to those same principles.  We must pursue good things in good ways; we must not get lured into pursuing good things in inherently unfaithful, or principally inconsistent ways .  To do so would be to elevate one particular goal of those secondary goods over other seemingly conflicting concerns.  The only corrective is to pursue those things for the sake of – and in reliance on – a higher good:  the glory of God.

We must understand justice for people to be an inherently good thing, as an unavoidable derivative to reverence for God.  If we try to start with only abstract qualities like justice without a foundation in the holiness of God, we will not be able to avoid obsessing over particular applications/pursuits of those good things at the expense of other equally valid applications/pursuits.  But if a concern for the glory of God under-girds those endeavors, then when one application of justice must be deferred (temporarily) in the pursuit of another application, then we can content ourselves with faithful means as well as faithful ends, and patiently endure the time until all things are harmonized under Christ’s Lordship (cf. Philippians 2:11, etc.).

As crucial as freedom and uninhibited expressions of dignity are to faithful out-workings of God’s truth and design, freedom and dignity themselves make poor gods.  It is possible to idolize good, legitimate things, even absolutely crucial things.

But in such cases, those “good” things are distorted and corrupted, being dislodged from the God-honoring, God-centeredness of their design.  In such cases, those “good” things are separated from the only source of goodness and life and have become empty shells of God’s design.  Freedom and dignity are qualities that should be given to people as those in God’s image.  They are descriptions of the condition that should characterize civilizations and societies.  They are characteristics of full and functional life.  But, as people were never designed to be God (we don’t “have life in ourselves” – John 8), we distort and corrupt freedom and dignity if we make them out to be ultimate ends and absolute goods, without due reference to God’s glory.  We must see God’s glory and centrality and honor as primary, and pursue freedom and dignity (and all other good things) for the sake of God’s glory.  The temptation can be to invoke “God’s glory” for the sake of freedom and dignity.   A thorough concern for God’s glory will quickly imply real freedom and true dignity for man, His image-bearer.  (A matter of keeping first things first.)

Here I would only add that none of this implies that we cannot work together for good ends with those who do not share our understandings of God’s glory and centrality.  We can and should work for freedom, dignity, justice and mercy through any means available that do not violate other concerns of conscience.  We must only maintain and help one another to strengthen our convictions for God’s glory.  If we become more passionate about particular out-workings of freedom, dignity, justice and mercy than we are about God and His worship, then our vision and our work have gotten out of focus.  We should work to sharpen focus, fuel a primary concern with God’s glory, to cultivate a mentality that remembers the best thing we can hope for anyone is that they know and enjoy God Himself, and we must work to promote things in alignment with His glory – like freedom, dignity, justice and mercy – wherever and however we faithfully can.

In our ministry, we’ve been working to gradually increase our partnership across racial lines in Atlanta, but without considering racial issues the main focus.  It really helps me to read more about the African American perspective on the history of Christianity, particularly in the States.

Last year I read Divided by Faith, another very helpful resource.  Whereas that book was more sociologically oriented, Free at Last? offers a more invested interest in particular exhortations and a devotional flavor.  Both can be very helpful.

I would highly recommend this work as a resource for Evangelicals, especially those whose callings bring them into closer partnerships with cultures not their own.

The subject and perspective of this book guaranteed a certain level of interest for me.  And I did appreciate it.  It frames a lot of discussion of politics, particularly for Christians, but I think it would be insightful for non-Christians to see what thoughtful Christians understand the essence of faithful politics to be.

The book aims at neither the depth nor the scope of To Change the World. The authors do cite James Davison Hunter’s book several times, mostly in agreement.  They clearly write with desire to persuade Christians that involvement in politics is warranted and important, and it seems some of this motivation is partly fueled by concerns that Hunter or his readers might devalue that involvement.  I did not find Hunter’s book to undermine political involvement.  Whether or not Christians should involve themselves did not seem to be exactly central to Hunter’s thesis, but as To Change the World does of course address Christian involvement in politics, I did not find it to undermine involvement, only to give solid grounding and appropriate expectations for it, and to check irresponsible (less than faithful) ambitions and distortions of true Christ hope.

City of Man provides a great framework and starting point for these conversations.  It certainly does not close any conversations, nor does it seem intended to do so.  Plenty of subjects could be taken up from the book and advanced, and hopefully thoughtful, faithful Christians will (whether in book form or otherwise).

I especially appreciated the authors’ interest in first principles and the solid grounds for politics and the legitimate warrants for government.  I also appreciate their recognition that almost no political issues are clearly divided between pure right and pure wrong, and wisdom and prudence are crucial for faithful engagement.

Excerpts from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s Letter from Birmingham City Jail were quoted very effectively.  Believers should give more attention to his convictions and applications from this 1963 letter and other writings.

Five suggestions in chapter six under a section called “A Primer for Christian Persuaders” (pages 124-127) were especially good – “maintain self-awareness; maintain spiritual grounding, maintain perspective, maintain community, and maintain a spirit of grace and reconciliation.”  These were only briefly presented, and I think the last one could be helpfully clarified by explaining the differences between a basic interest in justice and human good versus a basic interest in “winning” some political game.  The latter fundamentally undermines all involvement.  The former carries with it a disposition that will rightly recognize the opportunities for “grace and reconciliation” that the authors champion but caution can be easily misapplied.

I also appreciate the principled defense and promotion of capitalism as an economic system (in chapter 5).  Again, the authors do not really get into an argument for it here, but the framework is there, and another book by Arthur C. Brooks and Peter Wehner is cited (Wealth and Justice:  The Morality of Democratic Capitalism).  I think this subject has been tremendously under-appreciated by Christians.  Too often Christians settle for a very shallow conception of both politics and especially economics, make some nods toward the corruption and greed associated with capitalism and move on with some vague assumptions that a moderate position must be the most enlightened and most faithful.  I don’t think that’s a very responsible or faithful engagement with economics (nor with politics).

Other times and places would be more appropriate to comment on the value of capitalism (and of course there is a lot out there in this vein – just not a lot of appreciation for it among most Christians).  But for now William F. Buckely’s quote sums up a lot:  “The problem with capitalism is capitalists; the problem with socialism is socialism.”

The authors conclude their Epilogue with three propositions (p. 134-136).  The last point about nobility reminds me of one favorite passage on the virtues and hope of good governance – Isaiah 32:1-8.  After opening the chapter with promises of a king and even princes who will rule in justice and who will provide refuge and cultivate life for those they govern, the passage goes on in description for seven verses.  Verse eight reads:  “But he who is noble plans noble things and on noble things he stands.”

Another wonderfully relevant passage is 2 Samuel 23:1-4.  These passages do not advocate for a Christianization of government; not at all.  They point to the ideals for a government that serves, not exploits, the governed, that cultivates life instead of death and justice instead of oppression.  These basic principles for government are on the level of what often is called “natural law” (see p. 118 – 121), and we should genuinely appropriate them in discussions of what government should be about, without direct regard for Christian-izing anything.  Government should simply be good government.

Christians should faithfully engage in government and economics for what those enterprises are on their own – legitimate, God-ordained goods that should not be considered either “Christian” or “un-Christian,” and not even “more-or-less Christian.”  They can be more-or-less good governments, more-or-less good economies.  We should put a lot of thought into what criteria makes for good governments and good economies.