Highest Communion

While preparing notes for a discussion about the incarnation, I ran across some outstanding observations by Karl Barth in his book, The Humanity of God. He writes:

God's high freedom in Jesus Christ is His freedom for love. The divine capacity which operates and exhibits itself in that superiority and subordination is manifestly also God's capacity to bend downwards, to attach Himself to another and this other to Himself, to be together with him. This takes place in that irreversible sequence, but in it is completely real. In that sequence there arises and continues in Jesus Christ the highest communion of God with man. God's deity is thus no prison in which he can exist only in and for Himself but also with and for us, to assert but also to sacrifice Himself, to be wholly exalted but also completely humble, not only almighty but also almighty mercy, not only Lord but also servant, not only judge but also Himself the judged, not only man's eternal king but also his brother in time. And all that without in the slightest forfeiting His deity! All that, rather, in the highest proof and proclamation of His deity! He who does and manifestly can do all that, He and no other is the living God. So constituted in His deity, the deity of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. In Jesus Christ it is in this way operative and recognizable. If He is the Word of Truth, then the truth of God is exactly this and nothing else.1 

1.  Karl Barth, The Humanity of God [Westminster John Knox Press: Richmond, VA; 1960] pp. 48-49

Opening Oddities

Now that my wife is home with our newborn son, our family schedule has changed a bit. Just a tiny bit though. Certainly nothing to get flustered about. One way in which it has changed is with the amount of time my wife now has to study God's Word, the history of the Church, and other related subjects she didn't have a whole lot of time to study before (working full-time).

When I got home from a long day of work three days ago, my wife told me that she picked up the book of Judges and started reading it carefully. This was a bit surprising because we've been studying John's gospel as a family for months, and also Matthew's gospel every week with a small-group of friends (for almost a full year), while at the same time attending another bible study (for months) on the book of Job; and now, all-of-a-sudden I come home to find that my wife is starting a new book: Judges. And of course, she wrote down questions to discuss with me when I got home from my busy day of work. Needless to say, my initial response to her question was probably not what she expected. "Seriously? The book of Judges?", I said with a somewhat-wearied, somewhat curious look on my face. "Couldn't you have picked an easier book to study right now?" Apparently she thought the book of Judges would have been one of my first picks, had I chosen a fourth book to study right now; and I suppose it would be if I wasn't currently so busy studying three other books simultaneously. And so, wondering what to do, we discussed what we could, shared our thoughts on the subject matter of the first chapter, and continued on with the remainder of that's days tasks. But there were a couple things that did strike us both as a bit odd at first glance -- certainly something worth looking into with more detail.

Here are the two things that struck us both as odd:

1)  Joseph is mentioned in the first chapter, but so are both of his sons who received his birthright. What was the author's purpose in mentioning all three, especially since Joseph's inheritance was technically replaced by his two sons, Manasseh and Ephraim (Gen. 48)?

2)  Was the author intending to write a strict chronology throughout the book of Judges? The reason for asking this is because Judges 1:1-2 begins with the death of Joshua, but chapter two (2:6-10) also begins with Joshua's reign and another mention of his death.

After a bit of studying, I not only have answers to scratch both itching-spots of our curiosity, but I definitely feel like I have a better grasp on the book of Judges as a whole. And so, I'm pretty excited about starting book number four, and writing about it from time to time.

In order to answer question number one (above) -- why the author of Judges mentions Joseph and his two sons -- it's best to first recognize that something positive is only mentioned under Joseph's name. In 1:22-26, it is "the House of Joseph" that conquers Bethel (in the land of Canaan), which the reader is supposed to acknowledge as a positive event. But in the following verses -- the verses where Joseph's two sons are mentioned -- only negative comments are listed. In fact, after the only single, positive event mentioned about "the House of Joseph", there are six consecutive negative events listed (listing seven events total):

1. "The House of Joseph" conquers Beth-el  (1:22-26)
2. Manasseh fails to conquer Beth-shean  (1:27)
3. Manasseh fails to conquer Taanach  (1:27)
4. Manasseh fails to conquer Dor  (1:27)
5. Manasseh fails to conquer Ibleam  (1:27)
6. Manasseh fails to conquer Megiddo  (1:27-28)
7. Ephraim fails to conquer Gezer  (1:29)1

According to this list, two things are emphatic: There is a victory by "the House of Joseph" worth mentioning and there is a definite decline within that "house" thereafter.

Because the tribe of Joseph was legally split into two tribes (Gen. 48), the description of victory for the "House of Joseph" describes both Manasseh and Ephraim together in an attempt to conquer Beth-el. When the house of Joseph is faithful, the Lord is with them (v. 22) and they are victorious. But when the house of Joseph is shown as unfaithful, the Lord removes His presence away from them. It is in these descriptions of unfaithfulness that the author describes the house of Joseph by the adopted tribal names of his sons, Manasseh and Ephraim.2

In order to answer question number two (above) -- whether the author intended to write a strict chronology of events -- it's important to recognize that the book of Judges opens up with two sections. The first section is chapter 1:1-2:5, and the second section is 2:6-3:6. The first opening section describes the rise and fall of Israel (after Joshua's death) in all their attempts to conquer the promised land of Canaan. The second opening section is a description of the rise and fall of Israel in their worship (after Joshua's death). So, in other words, the second section is a behind-the-scenes look at the sins which provoked the Lord greatly, the consequence of which was the Lord turning away from them in battle as they attempted to conquer the promised land. Each of the two opening sections begin by mentioning Joshua's death because both sections are mutually interpretive. The second section clarifies why the Lord removed His presence from certain tribes of Israel as they attempted to enter the promised land of Canaan.




1.  David A. Dorsey, The Literary Structure of the Old Testament: A Commentary on Genesis-Malachi [Baker Academic: Grand Rapids, MI; 2005] p. 106
2.  I am grateful for the many helpful insights of James Jordan concerning this section of Judges. See James B. Jordan, Judges: God's War Against Humanism [Geneva Ministries: Tyler, TX; 1985] pp. 15-18

Forbidden Fruit Syndrome

From time to time I can't sleep for long at night, and so I go into my library to read something I haven't read in a while. The choice is sometimes random, sometimes calculated. Last night it was random. I picked up Augustine's Confessions and soon remembered why that work remains classic:

In a garden nearby to our vineyard there was a pear tree, loaded with fruit that was desirable neither in appearance nor in taste. Late one night--to which hour, according to our pestilential custom, we had kept up our street games--a group of very bad youngsters set out to shake down and rob this tree. We took great loads of fruit from it, not for our own eating, but rather to throw it to the pigs; even if we did eat a little of it, we did this to do what pleased us for the reason that it was forbidden.1 

Surely, Lord, your law punishes theft, as does that law written on the hearts of men, which not even iniquity itself blots out. What thief puts up with another thief with a calm mind? Not even a rich thief will pardon one who steals from him because of want. But I willed to commit theft, and I did so, not because I was driven to it by any need, unless it were by poverty of justice, and dislike of it, and by a glut of evil-doing. For I stole a thing of which I had penty of my own and of much better quality. Nor did I wish to enjoy that thing which I desired to gain by theft, but rather to enjoy the actual theft and the sin of theft.  

Behold my heart, O Lord, behold my heart upon which you had mercy in the depths of the pit. Behold, now let my heart tell you what it looked for there, that I should be evil without purpose and that there should be no cause for my evil but evil itself. Foul was the evil, and I loved it. I loved to go down to death. I loved my fault, not that for which I did the fault, but I loved my fault itself. Base in soul was I, and I leaped down from your firm clasp even towards complete destruction, and I sought nothing from the shameful deed but shame itself!2

The line which strikes me the most is his admission that he didn't even enjoy pears.


1.  For those who have a copy of Augustine's Confessions, it is rather noticeable that I have rearranged the order of what Augustine originally recorded. The English translation which I used for this post includes three paragraphs total, but I begin with the second paragraph which Augustine originally wrote, followed by the first paragraph, before concluding with the third paragraph. My reason for this new arrangement is merely to bring out the occasion for this confession first, as that, in my mind, helps clarify things for an audience who may not be familiar with Augustine's writing style.
2.  St. Augustine, The Confessions of Saint Augustine (translation by John K Ryan) [Doubleday; New York, NY; 1960] pp. 69-70

The Importance of Literary Structure

Have you ever wondered why certain books of the Bible repeat phrases over and over again?

Have you ever wondered why certain "chapters" of the Bible appear, at first glance, to be disjointed?

The reasons for these are actually quite simple, even though most people remain unaware as to why such carelessness of organization exists. In his book, The Literary Structure of the Old Testament: A Commentary on Genesis-Malachi, David Dorsey comments about this apparent oddity and how it led him to discover the importance of identifying literary structures within each book of the Bible. He writes:

My fascination with the subject [of Hebrew literary structure] was kindled when I began teaching Old Testament courses in seminary. At that time I was struck by the apparent lack of order within many of the biblical books. Jeremiah seemed hopelessly confused in its organization; so did Isaiah and Hosea and most of the prophets. Song of Songs and Ecclesiastes appeared to be in almost complete disarray, and even the more orderly historical books, such as Joshua and Kings, showed signs of strangely careless organization. Why did the biblical authors write like this? I would never write a book, an article, or even a private letter with such carelessness of arrangement. 

I was intrigued by the possibility that the Hebrew authors might have organized their compositions according to literary conventions that were different from ours. I began to discover, over a period of years, that several structuring patterns rarely used by us were remarkably common in the books of the Hebrew Bible, particularly chiasmus (symmetry), parallelism, and sevenfold patterns. I was increasingly struck by how often these patterns had been utilized to arrange biblical books. The task of analyzing the structures of the books of the Old testament was a long and arduous one.1

Further into his book, Dorsey follows through with an explanation of how important these structuring patterns are for understanding a given biblical text. He observes that:

A sermon would not be appreciated or understandable if it simply consisted of... unrelated statements, one after another without any discernible order. The practice of structuring communication, whether written or oral, is universal among humans, as shown by studies among numerous languages and dialects throughout the world. Humans need and appreciate communication that is arranged and organized. This is true of ancient Israel. The pages of the Old Testament reflect a keen interest in literary structure. Hebrew authors and editors generally took great pains to arrange their compositions in ways that would help convey their messages.... 

[But] the Hebrew authors used no visual, graphic structure markers to help readers follow their organization. ...In contrast to modern Bibles, the text of ancient Hebrew manuscripts generally ran on and on without [a] break, filling column after column from top to bottom and from side to side, without set-off titles, subtitles, indentations, or any other visual structure indicators. Modern readers are unaccustomed to such lack of visual helps... As H. Van Dyke Parunak observes:  "Graphical signals bombard the reader of a book in modern western culture. Italics or underlining highlight words and phrases of special importance, while parentheses, footnotes, and appendices remove peripheral material from the direct course of the writer's argument. Chapter headings, section titles, and paragraph indentations divide the text into segments whose limits coincide with the units of the writer's thought. Tables of contents outline the entire book, and sometimes even chapters or articles within the book."

The absence of such visual structure markers does not mean that ancient authors were unmindful of the structure of their compositions or that their compositions had less rigorous structural patterns than our modern books. On the contrary, numerous linguistic studies of various unwritten tribal languages suggest that aurally oriented compositions generally feature sophisticated structural patterns, indeed often more sophisticated than our modern Western counterparts... 

For example, symmetry, parallelism, and structured repetition... appear throughout Old Testament literature; these and related patterns are so foreign to modern readers that it is easy to miss -- or misunderstand -- them. To investigate structure in the Hebrew Bible, the reader must lay aside Western expectations and watch for these less familiar structuring conventions that were indigenous to ancient Israel -- much as modern linguists must do when working with unwritten tribal languages.2

After these comments, Dorsey provides a few examples of what these biblical patterns look like and the importance of the way each pattern functions. He begins with the basic linear pattern (a-b-c-d-e-f-g), which is essential to every known system of literary structuring; but then he goes on to describe nonlinear patterns:

Nonlinear schemes, particularly symmetric (a-b-c-b'-a') and parallel (a-b-c-a'-b'-c') patterns, are quite popular in the Old Testament... For example, in a symmetric (chiastic) arrangement the central unit generally functions as the turning point or climax or highlight of the piece (e.g.  a-b-c-d-c'-b'-a'). Thus in the symmetrically arranged Book of Amos the central unit (Amos 5:1-17) features Amos's call to repentance; in Song of Songs the center (Song 3:6-5:1) serves as the book's climax, celebrating the lovers' wedding; and in Ruth the center (chap. 2) represents the story's turning point--the meeting of Ruth and Boaz. Therefore, if a composition is found to have a symmetric configuration, the central unit's key role in the book should be considered. On the other hand, in a linear scheme or parallel pattern, the final unit often carries the climax or highlight.3 

Now, stop for a few moments to think about how much Scripture you have studied in your life. Have you ever considered that the "chapters" of your Bible may not reflect the literary structure which the author intended his audience to follow?

What if the repeated phrases were intentionally parallel in structure (a-b-c-a'-b'-c'-d), and you overlooked the fact that the author was trying to lead his original audience to the climax of the story in the final unit of that pattern?

What if so much of the apparent disorder was really structured as a chiasm (a-b-c-d-c'-b'-a') with the climax or key turning-point in the very center of the story?

Doesn't this explain more?!




1.  David A. Dorsey, The Literary Structure of the Old Testament: A Commentary on genesis-Malachi [Baker Academic; Grand Rapids, MI; 2005] p. 9

2.  Ibid. p. 15; Dorsey footnotes the reference of H. Van Dyke Parunak from "Oral Typesetting: Some Uses of Biblical Structure," Biblica 62 (1981) 153.

3.  Ibid. pp. 17-18

1549 General Confession

(...all kneeling humbly upon their knees)

Almighty God, Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, maker of all things, judge of all men, we acknowledge and bewail our manifold sins and wickedness, which we from time to time, most grievously have committed, by thought, word and deed, against thy divine majesty, provoking most justly thy wrath and indignation against us, we do earnestly repent and [are] heartily sorry for these our misdoings, the remembrance of them is grievous unto us, 

the burden of them is intolerable. 

Have mercy upon us, have mercy upon us, most merciful Father, for thy Son our Lord Jesus Christ's sake, forgive us all that is past, and grant that we may ever hereafter, serve and please thee in newness of life, 

to the honor and glory of thy name.

Through Jesus Christ our Lord.

(Then shall the Priest stand up, and turning himself to the people, say thus)

Almighty God our heavenly Father, who of His great mercy, hath promised forgiveness of sins to all them, which with hearty repentance and true faith, turn unto him: have mercy upon you, pardon and deliver you from all your sins, confirm and strengthen you in all goodness, and bring you to everlasting life.

Through Jesus Christ our Lord.

-- 1549  Book of Common Prayer  

 General Confession for Communion

Israel's Expectation

As was noted in an earlier post (cf. Alpha & Omega), the opening words of Matthew's gospel begin with a familiar echo from the beginning of the Old Testament Scriptures. He begins with the biblos geneseos of Jesus, just like the account of the heavens and the earth (Gen. 2:4 LXX) and the Adamic race (Gen. 5:1 LXX) are recorded as their own biblos geneseos, their own "book of beginnings".  But after those opening verses, Matthew doesn't stop echoing the early history of Israel. He moves forward with a genealogy that begins with Abraham and ends with Jesus.

Just as Adam's descendants are listed in the biblos geneseos of Genesis 5:1, Matthew records a genealogy for Jesus' descendants. One major difference between Adam's list in Gen. 5:1 and Matthew's list is that Matthew is concerned about one issue, and one issue alone: the rightful heir to the throne according to God's promise. The imagery of Matthew's genealogy is drawn from God's promise to Abraham that "nations would rise out of" his "seed" and how that promise unfolded with the Kingdom of Israel, the throne of David, and the eventual eclipse of that reign for centuries because of Israel's spiritual harlotry. Matthew's genealogy also seems to operate on the assumption that his audience is expecting the Christ (i.e. the Messiah) to sit on the throne of Israel. This is expressed in a few ways.

First, Matthew goes out of his way immediately after the opening genealogy (1:17) to express that:

"...all the generations from Abraham to David were fourteen generations, and from David to the deportation to Babylon fourteen generations, and from the deportation to Babylon to the Messiah fourteen generations." 

Many readers look at this list of fourteen generations and overlook something very important. And it doesn't take much time or effort to notice something odd about the emphasis of fourteen generations. If the reader were to look at the opening genealogy and count the names in Matthew's list one by one, it should become apparent that there are definitely not three sets of fourteen generations listed. In fact, there has to be some overlap in order for Matthew to give a strict chronology. Therefore, as various reputable scholars have contended,1 something more was likely intended by Matthew's opening emphasis about three sets of "fourteen generations". The solution to this enigma is settled quickly once the reader understands that a particular literary style of identification used throughout ancient cultures (such as 1st century Israelites) is being used in this opening genealogy.

Notice carefully Matthew's own emphasis after he provides the genealogy: there are three sets of fourteen generations. In ancient cultures, the names or titles of important historical figures were often marked with something called a Gematria. Gematria is basically the assignment of numbers to a name. This was possible because many ancient languages used their consonants as numbers (which the English language does not do). Roman numerals are a good example of this. The letter "I"  stands for the number one and the number "V" stands for five, etc... But in the Hebrew language, DWD are the three letters of King David's name, and those three equal the number fourteen.2 Matthew was apparently less interested in highlighting an exact numerical order of kings, and more interested in using the true historical and legal line of heirs to the throne of Israel to highlight that it was David's throne (not Saul's) which was promised for the Messiah. Matthew's genealogy is not a strict record of natural lineage from Abraham to Jesus. Matthew's genealogy is, as John Calvin noted, a "legal genealogy" about "the right to the throne... passed in a lawful manner".3

Secondarily, there seems to be a central emphasis upon the throne of Israel because "David the King" is the focal point of the first and second sets of "generations" (verse 6). His name is listed as the last name of the first set and the first name of the second set.

Thirdly, there seems to be an expectation for a promised King to sit on David's throne because of the way the second set ends and the third set begins. The second set ends with an event, not a person, and the third set also begins with an event, not a person. Notice carefully that the second list of fourteen descendants to the throne ends with "the deportation to Babylon" and the third list begins with "the deportation to Babylon" (much like the way the first list ends with "David the King" and the second section begins with David again). This repeated emphasis of "the deportation to Babylon" is designed to highlight the fact that from that time forward the reign of a king on the throne of David in Israel remained in a total eclipse until the promised King came. That King, according to Matthew's genealogy, is Joseph's legally adopted son Jesus. 

1.  To name only a few, N. T. Wright, William Hendrickson, D. A. Carson, R.T. France, Craig Keener, Dale Allison, and Stanley Hauerwas all acknowledge this.   N. T. Wright and Stanley Hauerwas both introduce a fresh perspective on this subject.   Hauerwas suggests that the three divisions of 14 generations were mentioned intentionally, even though the last division only contains 13 names. And so he concludes that "the last group has only thirteen generations because the church that Jesus calls into existence constitutes the fourteenth generation." -- Stanley Hauerwas, Matthew (Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible) [Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos Press, 2006] p. 31.   N. T. Wright suggests that Matthew's "three periods of fourteen generations may well be intended to hint at six periods of seven generations, so that Jesus starts the seventh seven, the climactic moment of the series." -- N. T. Wright, The New Testament and the People of God [Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1992] p. 385.   I don't agree with the conjectures of both Wright and Hauerwas, particularly because there are no contextual indicators within Matthew's gospel; but nonetheless, I do consider their insights to be very interesting and helpful compared with the myriads of mainstream evangelical commentaries which gloss over this obvious literary emphasis by Matthew.

2.  The English translation of the name David consists of three letters of the original Hebrew alphabet: D (dalet), W (waw), and D (dalet). The letter "D" in Hebrew is also the number 4 in Hebrew. Likewise the letter "W" in Hebrew is also the number 6 in Hebrew. When the three letters are added (4 + 6 + 4) it equals the number fourteen.
3.  John Calvin, Commentary on the Harmony of the Evangelists [Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book house, 1989] p. 85; This book is available to view for free online at:  http://www.ccel.org/ccel/calvin/calcom31.i.html

Between Babel and Beast: A Brief Review

In his latest book, Between Babel and Beast: America and Empires in Biblical Perspective, Peter Leithart provides a strong theological and historical case against the idolatry of what he calls Americanism, an "inherently expansionist faith" and ideology which "often sounds like Christianity, but does not."1 From beginning to end, Leithart defends his case that through the faith of Americanism, "the American nation takes the place of the church as the sacred community". One of the consequences of that faith, Leithart argues, is that they "read the Bible looking for types and shadows of America, and view the constitutional order as the novus ordo saeclorum, an eschatological form of social and political order."2

Leithart's views also prove to not be simplistic, but yet not overly complex either, which is a healthy balance for people new to this subject or new to Leithart's writing style. He makes numerous statements which will raise eyebrows among both fans and critics, but Leithart demonstrates that behind every raised eyebrow is a calculated attempt towards clarity, not ambiguity or exaggeration. Throughout the book, Leithart says things like "Insofar as we [the United States of America] want to make the world into our image, we are a Babel. We are not a beast, but we freely consort with beasts if it will serve our political ends. I wonder how long we can stay in the cage without taking on bestial habits ourselves."3 Leithart doesn't mince words, and so any reader should know what they're in for when statements like that are made. For those who are interested in the typological emphasis which is characteristic of Leithart's polemics, they certainly won't be disappointed either. One whopper of an example that raised my eyebrows the first time, is his contention that "Americanism is the monstrous Nephilim that people the earth when the sons of God intermarry the daughters of men. Americanist Christians are Joktanites who uncritically join Nimrod in building Babel."4 Them's fightin words.

Leithart is also very engaging in his presentation of both American history and world history. He discusses Egyptian, Israelite, Assyrian, Babylonian, Persian and Roman history. He provides detailed records of men and events in early American history as well, from Benjamin Franklin's "defensive imperialism" to the "expansionist republicanism" of James K. Polk's war against Mexico in 1846. And when discussing current events, the reader is left with a much more honest and transparent representation than the major media likes to present on the ten o'clock nightly news. How many Christians today take notice of publications such as the 1922 inaugural issue of Foreign Affairs (the journal of the Council on Foreign Relations), or the cooperation of Americanism with the IMF and World Bank? I don't know of many, and so, in my mind, Leithart presents a uniquely insightful angle from which to view current events.  

Leithart also discusses the relationship of Americanism with current events in Egypt, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, Iraq, Israel, Yemen, Indonesia, Afghanistan, Turkmenistan, and Uzbekistan. By no means would it be credible to charge Leithart as not knowing his history well. And it's because he knows his history very well that he can sort through all the clutter of liberal theology and media, but still contend for the optimistic eschatological form of social and political order taught in Holy Scripture. For instance, he is not shy about presenting an argument in favor of historic biblical patterns of social order and justice, particularly patterns pertaining to Christian leaders. Leithart calls Christian leaders to grow in maturity and influence to the degree that they hold public officials accountable to the "officers of God's imperium".5  He asks such bold questions as "When was the last time an American politician was excommunicated? When was the last time an excommunication had any effect on American politics?" St. Ambrose would be proud of Leithart's faithfulness.

But in order to avoid misunderstanding Leithart's case, it's important to recognize that before presenting those kinds of ecclesiastically-charged questions, he first establishes a strong theological argument about the primacy of God's imperium over the American imperium. According to Leithart, God's imperium consists of communing Christians around the world. And because it is God's imperium, and no one else's, Christians have an effect upon American politics whether they like it or not. But their effect will only be a blessing upon American politics if they are faithful witnesses of God's truth. Sadly enough, I believe his assessment is accurate in that "Christians do not try to check American power because American Christians are usually devotees of Americanism."6 "American Churches", Leithart contends, "cannot critique and confront American power because promotion of Americanism is what American churches stand for. Individual Christians do not have the virtues necessary to function as citizens of God's imperium because American churches have discipled them to function as citizens of the American imperium instead."7

Between Babel and Beast is, in my opinion, one of Leithart's most polemical contributions (and he has written quite a few, to be sure). But in the end, Leithart accomplishes with great precision what he set out to explain in the introduction:

Between Babel and Beast is written for Christians, and my main practical message is a simple one: Remember who you are, and to whom you belong. Remember that you belong to Jesus first and last; remember that the church, not America, is the body of Christ and the political hope of the future; remember that no matter how much it may have served the city of God, America is in itself part of the city of man; remember that the Eucharist is our sacrificial feast. It is good for Christians to be salted throughout our polity--in the White House and bureaucracies, in the military, in international institutions. But Christians in those positions are called to be salt. American churches have too long discipled Christians in Americanism, and that makes Christian involvement in the American polity far smoother than it ought to be. Churches must repent of our Americanism and begin to cultivate martyrs--believers who are martyrs in the original sense of "witness" and in the later sense of men and women ready to follow the Lamb all the way to an imperial cross.8

1.  Peter J. Leithart, Between Babel and Beast: America and Empires in Biblical Perspective [Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2012] p. xii 

2.  Ibid.

3.  Ibid. p. xiii

4.  Ibid. pp. 82-83

5.  Ibid. p. 110

6.  Ibid.

7.  Ibid. p. 111

8.  Ibid. p. xiii