The First Baptist Church of Granada Hills

            Here at the First Baptist Church of Granada Hills we’ve embarked on a new series of Wednesday night studies.  Each Wednesday, Pastor Eugene Curry will address a specific question from the congregation submitted sometime in the previous week or earlier.  Some of the questions have to do with theology, some are more concerned with ethics, and some are decidedly practical.  In conjunction with the Wednesday night study, a brief summary of Pastor Curry’s answer will appear here on the church’s blog for the benefit of those unable to attend the study in person.  So, without further ado, I give you the question and answer for the first week!

Question:

            What does the Apostles Creed mean when it says that Jesus descended into hell?

Answer:

            The Bible both contains the record of God’s revelation to mankind and is, in a somewhat more subtle sense, revelation itself.  As such it stands as the central and ultimate document for establishing orthodox theology.  It is the thing of which all other Christian literature—all creeds, catechisms, liturgies, hymns, slogans, and so on—must be considered derivative.  But just because these lesser guiding lights are indeed unoriginal does not mean that they are therefore unhelpful.  Instead, insofar as these derivative documents faithfully present the content of the Bible they can be of immense value.

            Let’s be honest: what the Bible possesses in matters of authority it lacks in terms of brevity. While the words of Scripture are second to none in their definitiveness, there are really a lot of words of Scripture.  As such, summaries of the faith can be helpful, allowing Christians to memorize an outline of the Bible’s teachings. 

            One particular outline of the faith has been around for a very long time, having been written in the first few centuries of the Christian era: it’s called the Apostles Creed.  With just a handful of short phrases the Apostles Creed covers the essential doctrines of Christianity through both its content and its overall structure. And as a result of its brevity and comprehensiveness the Creed has found wide use among almost every branch of the Christian Church in the Western world.

            But for all of the Apostles Creed’s popularity there is one element of it that sometimes causes concern.  I am speaking, of course, of the line which states that Jesus, immediately after the Crucifixion, “descended into hell.”  The objections raised against this line generally fall into two familiar categories: confusion over its precise meaning and skepticism regarding its Biblical support.  Of course, these are related issues and it would seem that by addressing the later concern the former will benefit as well.

            Perhaps the Bible passage that most directly supports the idea of Jesus descending to hell occurs in I Peter 3:18-20:  “For Christ also died for sins once for all, the just for the unjust, so that He might bring us to God, having been put to death in the flesh, but made alive in the spirit; in which also He went and made proclamation to the spirits now in prison, who once were disobedient, when the patience of God kept waiting in the days of Noah, during the construction of the ark, in which a few, that is, eight persons, were brought safely through the water.”  Peter tells us that after Christ died, he traveled in some spiritual capacity to spirits “in prison” in order to proclaim his victory over sin.  Of course, this raises the question of the identity of these spirits.  And this question can only really be answered with a bit of reading in parts of the Bible far older than Peter’s letters.

            Genesis 6 briefly refers to a series of events quite foreign to our own experience.  As it states, “Now it came about, when men began to multiply on the face of the land, and daughters were born to them, that the sons of God saw that the daughters of men were beautiful; and they took wives for themselves, whomever they chose.  Then the LORD said, ‘My Spirit shall not strive with man forever, because he also is flesh; nevertheless his days shall be one hundred and twenty years.’  The Nephilim were on the earth in those days, and also afterward, when the sons of God came in to the daughters of men, and they bore children to them. Those were the mighty men who were of old, men of renown.”  Considering that the expression “sons of God” is used elsewhere in the Old Testament to refer exclusively to some sort of angelic beings (Job 1:6, 38:4-7, and probably Deut. 32:8), as strange as it seems to us and regardless of how we choose to handle it, Genesis 6 states that at some point angelic beings somehow reproduced with humans.

            The Epistle of Jude picks up this theme and states (in verses 6 and 7) that “angels who did not keep their own domain, but abandoned their proper abode, He [God] has kept in eternal bonds under darkness for the judgment of the great day, just as Sodom and Gomorrah and the cities around them, since they in the same way as these indulged in gross immorality and went after strange flesh, are exhibited as an example in undergoing the punishment of eternal fire.”  Jude draws a connection between certain fallen angels and the men of Sodom and Gomorrah, declaring that both groups are under God’s judgment for the same violation: gross immorality and going after strange flesh—that is, pursuing inappropriate sexual partners.

            2 Peter contains a related passage that states, “…God did not spare angels when they sinned, but cast them into hell and committed them to pits of darkness, reserved for judgment; and did not spare the ancient world, but preserved Noah, a preacher of righteousness, with seven others, when He brought a flood upon the world of the ungodly; and if He condemned the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah to destruction by reducing them to ashes…”  Now it’s important to note that Peter’s second letter bears many similarities to Jude both in terms of its content and overall structure.  Whatever the explanation for this may be, it’s almost certain that when 2 Peter refers to sinful angels and then, immediately afterward, refers to Sodom, the angels in view are the same group that Jude mentioned who “went after strange flesh”.  Also, Peter’s close association of these angels with the Flood makes their identification with the so-called “sons of God” of Genesis 6 unavoidable.  It would seem then that whatever specifically happened in the primordial past of our world, certain angelic beings have been imprisoned by God in some capacity (Peter uses the word “hell”) awaiting the final judgment. (cf. Isaiah 24:21-22)

            Considering that 1 Peter and 2 Peter are obviously related, when 1 Peter 3 refers to “spirits now in prison, who once were disobedient, when the patience of God kept waiting in the days of Noah”, these would seem to be the same entities which 2 Peter 2 (and Jude) reveal to be angels in hell awaiting judgment for their Antediluvian sins.  As such, Christ’s descent into hell should be seen as something triumphant and not something tragic.  Far from a prisoner going to His cell, Jesus goes to hell as a Governor might travel to a state prison to triumphantly inform a group of despicable death-row inmates that their last appeal has been denied, their sentences will not be commuted, and that they are all now doomed.

(All Scripture citations are from the New American Standard Bible.)

Last Sunday was a joint service in which the English-speaking side of the congregation and the Spanish-speaking side of the congregation worshipped the Lord together.  Pastor Rodolfo Lagos delievered the sermon and everyone seemed to have a good time.

“When God Messes Up Your Plans” [ Listen || Download ]

Morning English Service- “To Live is Christ” (Acts 21:7-14)
[ Listen || Download || Notes & Review Questions ]

Spanish Service- “Dios ¿Por Qué Estas Lejos?” (Salmo 42)
[ Listen || Download ]

Evening English Service- “Unpleasant Blessings” (Romans 5:1-5)
[ Listen || Download ]

Morning English Service- “Red and Yellow, Black and White” (Acts 15:1-21) 
[ Listen || Download || Notes & Review Questions ]

Morning Spanish Service- “¡Padres, Cuidado!” (Génesis 41:17-21 & 41:25-32)
[ Listen || Download ]

            Thirty-nine years ago, Neil Armstrong and Edwin “Buzz” Aldrin brought the Apollo 11 mission to its climax.  On July 20, 1969 two people, after traveling hundreds of thousands of miles, climbed out of a cramped multi-billion dollar box and walked on the moon.  The moon!  Roughly five hundred million people watched as this pair of Americans achieved one of the most significant propaganda victories of the Cold War, affirming the superiority of the free world over against its authoritarian enemies.

            But as amazing as the moon landing was in terms of its political value, its most enduring legacy is a more general one: Apollo 11 bears witness to the power of human ability. The achievement was so overwhelming, so mythical in scope, that it clearly indicated that mankind, given enough money, technology, and will, can do virtually anything.  As God is said to have remarked at Babel, “nothing they plan to do will be impossible for them.”

            This limitless horizon of possibility has filled many with a sense of optimism, and with cause.  Our march from the Stone Age to the modern day has been attended by meaningful advances in the human condition.  Each year it seems that new medicines are developed, new communication arrays are installed, and more efficient agricultural techniques are unveiled making disease, isolation, and starvation ever more distant realities.

            At the same time, though, the progress of human power has had a darker side as well.  The very same theoretical and technological advances that have given us more cures, communications and corn have also given us germ-warfare, online child pornography, and the Holocaust. Thus, while our advances may fill us with hope, our hopes must be tempered with realism.  

            T.S. Eliot once wrote that modern people occupy themselves “dreaming of systems so perfect that no one will need to be good.”  Sadly, these dreams must forever remain exactly that—mere dreams.  For as history has shown, advances of all sorts are ambiguous things; great power can be used both for great good and for great evil; it’s up to the actor to decide which.  Thus goodness will always be a needful thing.

            This sobering truth—power’s inherent ambiguity—ought to cause us to examine our own lives then.  Is the world a better place because of us?  Are we using our ever-increasing wealth, talents, and influence to improve our communities?  Or are we just using our fellow men and women as so much “raw material” for the satisfaction of our own selfish and destructive desires?  Put simply, are we good? 

            A prophet once said, “the eyes of the LORD range throughout the earth to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to him.” (2 Chronicles 16:9)  Now, commitment to the Lord involves a number of things, but a commitment to righteousness, to goodness, is among them.  Thus, just as power needs righteousness so righteousness, it would seem, may lead to power.  Let’s then keep this relationship between goodness and greatness in mind—both when we advance personally in some fashion and, perhaps, when we want to.

Morning English Service- “Meaningful Choices” (Acts 13:1-2) 
[ Listen || Download || Notes & Review Questions ]

Morning Spanish Service- “La Verdad Sobre el Frasco”
[ Listen || Download ]

Evening Service- “Meaningful Choices II” (Hosea 5:1-6:6)
[ Listen || Download ]

          In America, the third Sunday of June is set aside as a day to honor fathers.  Father’s Day, despite its relatively recent origin, has nonetheless come to be one of the great affirmations of life.  On this day millions of sons and daughters will take their fathers to lunch, give sentimental cards, and even little gifts to remind their dads that they’re appreciated.

          While some may balk at all this, the big to-do is wholly appropriate considering that fatherhood stands as one of the twin pillars of that most fundamental of all human institutions: the family.  Each successive generation of fathers thus bears the impressive and intimidating responsibility to work alongside its wives to raise up the next generation of mankind.  With this in mind it seems that, if anything, the fuss people make over Father’s Day, being only one day out of the year, is rather more inadequate than over-blown.

          But fathers can take heart; the blessings and difficulties of fatherhood are not something that God leads us into unaided.  Instead, the Lord equips each man called to this high estate with at least three points of reference to guide him: the example of his own father, the potentially much surer example of God Himself, and the teachings of the Bible.  As Jesus said, “From everyone who has been given much, much will be required.”  Or, to invert the statement, “To everyone from whom much will be required, much has been given.”

          In the example of our own fathers we see that ordinary men, men with strengths and also weaknesses, virtues and also vices, can, if they work at it, do a fairly good job of raising children; that is to say, fatherhood doesn’t require perfection, only commitment.  At the same time, the example furnished to us by God, the Father Almighty, in His dealings with both Israel and the early Church shows us that fatherhood requires love, but also discipline; high expectations, but also a willingness to forgive.  And in Scripture we see how these two examples can be related to our own attempts at fatherhood, both in how to treat one’s children and (of equal importance) how to treat their mothers–specifically in the Book of Proverbs, St. Paul’s letters to the Ephesians and Colossians, and St. Peter’s first letter.

          So this Father’s Day, thank dear ol’ dad for everything that he’s done, but also take a moment to consider Who else might be entitled to a bit of your time and a few words of gratitude.

          As Father’s Day approaches we are all reminded of the part our dads played in our upbringing.  But as this day turns our thoughts to our biological fathers, it also directs our thoughts higher since, for Christians, the word “father” can refer beyond one’s mortal sire to God Himself.  As the opening line of the Apostles Creed declares, “I believe in God the Father Almighty.”

          Recently, though, some well-meaning individuals have questioned the appropriateness of this phrase.  Honestly, isn’t it just the slightest bit sexist to call God “Father”?  Why not simply call Him “Parent”; or switch it up: call God “Father” half the time and “Mother” the other half.  After all, considering that God is a spiritual being not subject to the physicalities of sexual dimorphism, it’s unlikely that He possesses any gender at all.  What’s more, while God is sometimes described with masculine imagery in Scripture (”your God carried you, as a father carries his son,” Deut. 1:31) there are times when the Bible strikes a feminine cord as well (”For this is what the LORD says ‘As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you,’” Isaiah 66:12-13).  Given this ambiguity, why exactly do the historical documents of Christianity retain a distinctly patriarchal flavor?

          It would seem that, as is so often the case, Christianity’s practice here is influenced by the example of Jesus.  Despite the sexlessness of God, Jesus routinely referred to Him as “Father” both as His own Father in a special sense, but also as the Father of all people generally.  As Christ said, “you have one Father, and he is in heaven.” (Matt. 23:9)  And later, at a rather more poignant moment, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” (Luke 23:46)

          Jesus’ preference for this particular designation may have been influenced by His awareness of the robustness of God’s love.  On the one hand, Christ was very clear that God was kind and compassionate, concerned for His creations and willing to assist them, much like a parent watching over His children.  At the same time though, Jesus was equally clear that God’s love is a muscular thing, something that can cause Him to discipline His children, severely even, if they decide to flirt overmuch with self-destructive sin; in our modern context we often refer to this as “tough love” and it seems somewhat masculine by nature.  These two things then, the parental and masculine qualities of God’s love, imply a fatherliness–a fatherliness that Jesus, the Apostles, and the Church every since have recognized and affirmed in the simple declaration that God is Father, the Father.

          A little while back I decided that I ought to read more books that present views with which I disagree; it just seemed fair.  After all, I spend a lot of time encouraging non-believers to read Christian books and it seemed that I ought to return the favor.  With this in mind I picked up a copy of Sam Harris’ bestselling The End of Faith.
          In this book Harris outlines, in great clarity, some of the dangers that attend religious faith and does so primarily by highlighting the lowlights of the world’s most widely received “Western” religions: Christianity and Islam.  Of course, I’m no fan of Islam and I don’t really want to spend a great deal of time defending it; sufficed to say that the Koran does indeed advocate an often violent antagonism between Muslims and everyone else; whether we should simply exterminate sincere Muslims for the good of the world, as Harris advocates (page 53), is, I think, another matter. But when it comes to Christianity it seems that Harris makes a very obvious blunder, so much so that I wonder whether he is being intentionally misleading so as to advance his own argument. 
          Harris contends that when religious people do terrible things it’s because they are religious, not, that is, because they’re people.  As Harris notes, religious people tend to argue the latter: that people, even religious people, sometimes do terrible things because there is something dangerous and devious inherent in all humanity–Christianity calls it “sin”.  Of course, Harris dismisses this possibility as self-serving and evasive.  Indeed, to him all really evil things seem to be inherently motivated by religion.  But what of the great philosophically and functionally atheistic regimes of the 20th century?  Don’t these show that even irreligious people can do horrible things and that thus the fault, to quote Shakespeare’s Julius Ceaser, “is not with our stars but with our selves?”  Sorry, no dice.  These too are examples of religion.  The devotion of the Germans to Hitler? Religious! (page 100) The programs of Stalin and Mao? Religious! (page 79)  In fact, at one point Harris goes so far as to say that everyone is a product of religion, presumably making all atrocities, no matter how removed from explicitly creedal motivations, the fault of faith (page 108).  By this point it should be fairly obvious that Harris is playing a rather sloppy and dishonest shell game: people do terrible things, no person is really that far removed from religion, therefore religion is to blame for the world’s ills.  Hmm.
          Harris himself provides an excellent exception that seems to disprove his rule.  The Inquisition happened; it was bad.  But what led to it being as bad as it was?  For Harris the answer is obvious: religion, specifically the Christian religion.  If it wasn’t for Christianity the Inquisition never would have been instituted in the first place, never would have spiraled out of control, and never would have claimed the lives of so many.  But as Harris himself points out, there were massive disparities between the way that the Inquisition operated and the procedures outlined in the passages of the Hebrew Bible that were pressed into service to justify the proceedings.  Whereas Harris notes that the Inquisition accepted individual, uncorroborated accusations as evidence, confiscated the property of the accused and gave some to the accuser as a reward, and allowed the accuser to remain anonymous and uninvolved in the trial, every single one of these things was prohibited in the Old Testament.  The Old Testament is very clear that anyone accused of metaphysical “weirdness” can only be condemned on the testimony of at least two people (Deuteronomy 17:6), that the accused’s property must be totally destroyed (Deuteronomy 13:16-27), and that the ones making the accusations must themselves personally participate in the “wet work” of the execution (Deuteronomy 17:7).  Considering that Harris himself believes that people may justifiably be executed for holding the wrong religious beliefs (again, page 53) and that phenomena akin to witchcraft may indeed be real (see the article on AlterNet), the only charge that he can lay at the Inquisition’s feet without hypocrisy is that its methods were unsound and encouraged false convictions.  But as we’ve seen, its methods encouraged these false convictions precisely because they ignored the very verses they claimed to be applying.  Thus, in a very real way, it seems that the Inquisition became the monstrosity that it was precisely because the Inquisitors were inadequately religious, not excessively so.  Of course, one might think that Harris would at least mention Jesus’ preemptive prohibition of exactly this sort of thing in Matthew 13, but, rather unsurprisingly, he doesn’t.
          It’s clear that Harris is far from an unbiased observer of the misadventures of religion.  Indeed, he seems more like a zealous hater of monotheistic faith who earnestly desires to rip it up, root and branch, honesty and integrity be damned.

(The page numbers given in this article refer to the hardcover version of the book.)

Last Sunday was a two-sided holiday being both Pentecost and Mother’s Day.  Between the English and the Spanish services, the pastors of First Baptist Church were able to cover the appropriate bases.

English Service- “The Dawning of a New Age” (Acts 2:1-21)
[ Listen || Download ]

Spanish Service- “Ser Madre” (Habacuc 3)
[ Listen || Download ]