Now that a general case has been made for, at least, the reassessment of current Theological Filtration Systems and Lenses, if not their removal—which I will further advocate for in what follows—two terms need to be more clearly defined: possible and reasonable.

While these terms may seem redundant, that is, if one is used the other need not be, there are indeed significant differences between them. For instance, what is deemed a reasonable excuse is what allows for the possibility of being excused. And vice versa, the possibility of being excused allows for there to be reasonable excuses. Furthermore, the possibility of a reasonable excuse allows for the possibility of being reasonably excused. Don’t get dizzy.

In similar fashion, what is deemed interpretively possible thus informs what is interpretively reasonable and what is considered interpretively reasonable is derived from what is interpretively possible. However, that does not mean that because an interpretation is considered both possible and reasonable that it is then correct.

Many interpretations are thought to be possible and reasonable based on the scriptural content as it is viewed through certain doctrinal lenses. While this may seem a sound interpretation, that is, from a particular perspective, it is often the contextual perspective of neither the biblical writer nor the original audience. As such, though it may make modern interpretive sense, it is nonetheless incorrect.

What is interpretively possible is generally, but not always, determined by the scriptural content. What is interpretively reasonable is generally, but not always, determined by the context of the content. For example, in the third chapter of Genesis we read this:

“Now the serpent was more crafty than any other wild animal which Yahweh God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God indeed say, ‘You shall not eat from any tree in the garden’?”” (Genesis‬ ‭3‬:‭1‬ ‭LEB‬‬)

One interpretively possibility found in this passage, when content alone is considered, is that the woman (Eve) is conversing with a talking snake. Many who insist upon a hyper-literal translation of the Creation account of Genesis apply that hyper-literal lens to the text, postulating that, prior to the Fall, animals could talk and, based on the rest of this passage, that snakes, at one time, had legs. In other words, to make this interpretive possibility a reasonable one, hyper-literalists must create a context that allows it.

The actual historical context of the Book of Genesis is the Ancient Near East. The imagery and language used, the poetic structure, the polemic nature, even the stories themselves, have deep contextual roots in the ANE. Thus, the only interpretive possibility of the content that is reasonable is that the woman (Eve) was conversing with a divine being, specifically the original Rebel. [For more on this see The Unseen Realm by Dr. Michael Heiser]

It ought to be evident that the two interpretive options mentioned above are strikingly disparate. The first has to create its own context to make its interpretation align with the content. The second allows the content to be interpreted in light of the original context.

When attempting to determine what is interpretively possible and, therefore, reasonable, we have to consider the content’s (or transmission’s) relevance to both the writer and the intended audience. As we continue, it is important to remember that we (modern Christians) were neither the immediate nor intended audience of the scripture, that is, as it pertains to the biblical writers. In order for us to accurately translate, interpret, and retransmit the theological messaging of the text, we must keep this in mind.

One of the best hermeneutical tools for determining both the possibility and reasonability of an interpretation is called Relevance Theory. John W. Hilber, in his book Old Testament Cosmology and Divine Accommodation: A Relevance Theory Approach, defines it’s usefulness as follows:

“Relevance theory provides a model of communication that integrates linguistic code with the cognitive environment of the primary communication situation. Within a shared cognitive environment, a writer’s discourse guides an audience to those elements that are contextually relevant to infer meaning.

Faithful readers attend to those elements of the cognitive environment that a writer’s discourse makes manifest to constitute the proper context for interpretation. In attending to context, readers (1) assign references to objects, events, or ideas, (2) disambiguate polyvalence of words, and (3) enrich meaning. Both parties in the communication situation are guided by optimal relevance—that is, writers adequately guide readers to contextual assumptions necessary to infer meaning yet efficiently require minimal processing effort from readers, since readers expect cognitive benefits commensurate with the amount of processing effort they expend. In this sense, good communication is optimally relevant.

Normative reading does not default to literal meaning; rather, it processes simultaneously all possible options by narrowing the interpretation to the “best fit” within the context made manifest by the author. Literal interpretation, in the sense of initial dictionary meanings of words, has no privileged place in communication, including that of the Bible.”

Relevance Theory brings into sharp focus how the mind subconsciously interprets. It defaults to the path of least resistance; what makes the most sense. Now, that is not to say that the esoteric and cryptic nature of the messianic profile negates this fact. What was intentionally hidden, was hidden for a reason, that reason being found in 1 Corinthians 2:6-8 LEB:

“Now we do speak wisdom among the mature, but wisdom not of this age or of the rulers of this age, who are perishing, but we speak the hidden wisdom of God in a mystery, which God predestined before the ages for our glory, which none of the rulers of this age knew. For if they had known it, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory.”

Furthermore, this does not negate the same esoteric and cryptic nature of God’s eschatological plan. While interpreters throughout the ages, even some in the first century, have misunderstood the nature of eschatological prophecy and commentary, it stands to reason that there were more than a few at the time it was first given who understood what it’s intended message: God is going to do what He wants, how He wants, and when He wants. All of which will make sense, as does the messianic profile, in hindsight.

That being said, Relevance Theory, as it pertains to scripture that is not prophetic and, thus, intentionally cryptic, provides the best method for ascertaining the interpretive options that are both possible and reasonable. But it also requires that the interpreter does their contextual homework. If misapplied, Relevance Theory can cause the same sort of hermeneutical problems as other methods: namely, the interpreter will default to what makes sense to them rather than to the writers or original audience.

When paired with Relevance Theory, the Mosaic Interpretive Method/Approach enables the interpreter to assess all the pieces, filtering out any preexisting judgments with which the they approach the text. Notice I did not say that the interpreter who elects these methods does not have preexistent prejudice (filters and lenses), rather that these interpretive methods require them to be removed.

There is no other way in which to adequately ascertain what is interpretively possible and reasonable outside of the original context.

At this, many recoil. Such a suggestion is too much—it goes too far. Why? Because it calls into account even long held doctrines that claim to stem from biblically sound interpretation, whether they are contextually congruent or not. However, tradition does not supersede Truth. And that, in reality, is what filters and lenses are: interpretive tradition labelled as sound exegesis.

This makes the issue of filters and lenses and how they define what is interpretively possible and reasonable a much more complex equation.

In the post prior [Yes, Filters Again], I included Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s famous quote:

“If you remove the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.”

I then made the case that filters and lenses, and what they deem impossible, and subsequently unreasonable, prevents the truth from being seen. I’d like to explore that a bit further.

First things first. The question must be posed: who decides what is interpretatively possible and, therefore, reasonable? The answer, it would seem, based on our current discourse, is whatever theological filtration system and lens is employed. That answer would be partially correct.

Systems have creators. That’s the way it works. They do not create themselves nor do simple systems naturally, when left alone, progress and become more complex. On the contrary, systems, unless they are maintained, regress. A system’s need for attention is constant. As such, they are in state of ongoing creation or recreation. This is due to the fact, as the second law of thermodynamics states, that, within any system, nothing ever remains the same. Change is constant. Obviously, if energy or matter is added or removed from a system, it changes. However, even if we leave a system completely alone, it changes; it deteriorates over time.

This law works for Theological/Belief systems as well. If left alone—or taken for granted—a Theological/Belief system, even one that employs filters and systems, will change. But what causes said changes? In natural systems, we can point to exterior and interior forces that cause matter to decay and degrade. However, the forces that deteriorate a Theological/Belief system are quite different.

I have heard many time that the scriptures are open to interpretation. The reason for that, it is surmised, is because interpretation itself is subjective. This, in turn, means there is no right answer. This logic is not only flawed but, frankly, completely wrong. And that is because translation, while an integral part of interpretation, is not synonymous with it. In other words, interpreting meaning is not the same as translating linguistic terms. They are linked but not indistinguishable. Furthermore, it is asinine to presume that the biblical authors, both human and divine, did not have definitive meaning—a correct interpretation—in mind.

In order to ascertain the correct interpretation, the most important elements are obviously  content and context. Through these we have what the transmission or message says and what it means. The question that causes the array of interpretative variants is, “Why does it say what it says?” When that question is processed through filters and considered through lenses, neither the content nor the context really matter all that much because the filters and lenses have already determined the answer and the interpretation. In this way, even the contextual data is subject to filters and lenses.

Because of this, the original context changes or is replaced by that of the current interpreter and their preferred system. This can occur ad infinitum if the process is uninterrupted.

While it is true that much can be lost in translation, that is generally an effect of contextual ignorance on the part of the translator. A bold statement? Perhaps. However, in the case of Biblical theology, translating and teaching the scriptures are rarely disconnected.

That is, the Bible, once translated into a new language, is not dropped into the hands of the people of that particular language without explanation. The translators don’t simply translate and leave. In most cases—although, for the sake of statistical argument, I will say that there could be cases where the opposite is true—the translators are believers working and living either in and among or in close proximity to said people group. As such, the aim of such believers isn’t simply to translate the content of the scriptures but to transmit it’s message as well.

This begs another, more pressing, question: if what was stated above is the norm, how did the system deteriorate—the contextual data of the biblical authors get lost—in the first place? This requires a rather lengthy answer, one which I will attempt to summarize below. [If the reader is interested in a more thorough explanation, see the references given at the end of this post.]

The chief deteriorating factor of the theological “system” of the biblical authors was, is, and will continue to be, institutionalized religion, specifically Christianity. Wait, what? Yes, the Church is the main source of theological deterioration. And it started when the Church, with a capital “C”, was first established.

While Constantine is lauded for putting an end to the violent Imperial persecution of Christians, he also redefined Christianity by amalgamating it with Roman religion (see references mentioned below). The reason for the term “catholic” (universal) in the title Roman Catholic Church is because, as Christianity was being institutionalized, there remained remnants of the ekklesia that did not conform. Such remnants and their “practices” were eventually outlawed by the Emperor.

Furthermore, the Council of Nicea, headed by Constantine, decided, among other things, upon which books and writings were “inspired” and subsequently included in the canon of scripture. Thus, the Catholic Bible, or Apocrypha, was born. After this, the scriptures were taken from the hands of the masses (those who could read, that is) and entrusted only to the religious elite or Papacy. Which is one of the main reasons, if not the main reason, for the sweeping ignorance of the biblical author’s context and theological framework.

It was not until the Reformation that the scriptures were distributed once again to the people. Yet because the contextual ignorance remained, many of the theological systems that were birthed out of the Reformation are not, in fact, biblical—that is, they do not reflect the theology or worldview of the biblical authors—though they derive from the content of the Bible. There are still many misconceptions, errors, and incorrect doctrines that are taught to this day.

One of the mistakes that the Reformers made that contributed to the continuation of this problem was when they decided to remove certain books from the biblical canon. The one redeeming aspect that could be attributed to the Council of Nicea’s decision-making paradigm was that the books which they deemed canonical were labeled as such due to their popular and regular use by believers up to that point. A fact that the Reformers did not think legitimate—a thought to which the Protestant Church, in all its various expressions, has also held.

But who gave them, either the Council of Nicea or the Reformers, the authority to make those decisions and changes—decisions and changes that had neither historical nor theological context to back them? And no, appealing to the argument of providential fatalism does not hold water.

The notion that every decision ever made, no matter what it may have been, was predestined to happen is neither biblical nor logical. Otherwise, there is no such thing as a true choice. If that were the case, then God gives commands that cannot be obeyed. And if a person’s disobedience was predestined, then by so doing, they are actually obeying the will of their Creator, in that they are doing what they were created to do. Therefore, to punish a creature for breaking a command that the Creator created them to break is not only cruel but a capriciousness bordering on insanity.

That is not the picture we are given in the scriptures, especially when the greater context of it is brought to bear upon our own theological framework. The context that produced the scriptures will inform the content of the scriptures. The context and theological framework or system of the authors cannot be emphasized enough as it pertains to biblical interpretation.

This returns us to the original query of this post: who decides what is interpretatively reasonable and possible? If we maintain our mutated theological systems, along with their filters and lenses, then we do. But neither we, the Constantinian Roman Empire, nor the Reformers are the biblical authors.

Both the Old Testament and New Testament writers were not put into a trance, wrote automatically, and produced a text that had no real true substance. What they wrote had meaning and relevance to the world in which they lived—to their context. What’s more, what they wrote was not unaffected by their context—a temporal and eternal context. A context that helped shape the scriptures. If we ignore this fact, we run the risk of turning the Bible into something little better than a Christian version of Aesop’s Fables.

We cannot eisegetically apply our context onto the content of scripture. If we want to ascertain and understand the theological messaging it contains, we must—and I cannot stress this enough—endeavor to learn as much as we can about the context in which it was written. Otherwise, we will interpret the Bible and create doctrines, via artificial filters and lenses, that the biblical writers would have considered unreasonable and impossible.

Pagan Christianity? by Frank Viola & George Barna

7 Facts Why Jesus Didn’t Say He Would Build A Church by Tim Kurtz

The Unseen Realm by Dr. Michael Heiser

Imperial Cults and the Apocalypse of John by Steven J. Friesen

Theological filtration systems, and the lenses they create, do not just inhibit what is seen but also what is thought to be possible. They place a governor upon the biblical text, a ceiling, a limit on its meaning.

Most modern believers assume that the way that Christianity is “practiced” today isn’t too far afield from how first century believers practiced it. That besides the technological differences, the liturgical format is relatively the same. This assumption would be mistaken.

Modern Christianity and that of the first century believers described in the New Testament are in more ways different than they are the same. I’m not the first to notice this. Many have brought this discrepancy to light. Yet very little has been done to correct it. Why? Because most believers read into the biblical text modern practices and programs. In other words, they assume that what is being described by the biblical writers is what they are doing.

This is an error en masse that is reinforced by doctrines, denominations, theologians, and local pastors. And it is an error—a lens—that has, in my view, become the chief error of the modern church. It is the assumption that what is now being done is what was being done and, therefore, there is biblical justification for continuing to do what is now being done. Clearly circular reasoning, but that’s not all.

Very few among the greater body of believers in America adhere to, let alone even know of, the supernatural worldview held by the majority of first century believers. Even fewer actually do things “by the book”, as they say. This presents a problem. At least, it would if it weren’t for the solutions presented by filters and lenses.

The range of theological filtration systems and lenses is not limited to data. It also affects interpretation. That is, TFS’s and lenses often determine not only what pieces are acceptable but what they all mean, and more importantly could mean, both individually and collectively. Essentially, they decide the interpretative options.

It’s not just doctrines like Liberation Theology or Cessationism that, to coin a term, desupernatrualize the content of scripture. Most believers, while mentally assenting to the idea of the “supernatural”, consider it functionally irrelevant. Ascribing to the possibility of supernatural or miraculous occurrences is not synonymous with the belief/faith that informed the lifestyle of first century believers. In reality they are antithetical to one another.

While a desupernaturalized expression of Christianity may be the predominant modern experience, it is not biblical Christianity by any stretch of the imagination.

[If you would like to explore this topic further, see the references given at the end of this post. However, be advised, the sources are given as an indirect defense of both the case for a supernatural worldview and a supernatural expression of Christianity. The authors themselves do not all make the latter assertion explicitly.]

While I could go on, for now it will be sufficient to show how this correlates to the subject of filters and lenses.

Filters and lenses are, by nature, prejudicial and exclusionary. They determine which aspect of biblical data is most important and then diminish the rest. As justified as their defendants will argue them to be, filters and lenses cannot account for the matrix of ideas that is biblical theology, let alone decipher its grand unifying theory or metanarrative. This is due, in no small part, to the elevation of a singular aspect of the whole.

To exclude or diminish components because  they clog our filters or discolor our lenses is intellectually dishonest, no matter how esteemed the creator of a preferred filter or lens may be. The reality is, as with textual criticism, the best interpretation is the one that makes sense of all the component parts.

As such, a type of reasoned eclecticism, what I call the mosaic interpretative method or approach, must become the hermeneutical norm. This method allows for the whole of biblical and theological data (i.e. historical, cultural, political, economical, religious, and theological context) to be taken into consideration. And they must be taken into consideration if we are to attempt to understand the world in and to which the biblical authors wrote.

If I were to summarize the mosaic interpretive method in a phrase it would be this:

“If you remove the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.”

—Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

As it pertains to our discussion, “impossible”  is defined, not as what is truly impossible but what has been deemed an impossibility or, as I stated earlier, what is thought to be impossible. That is what filters and lenses actually do: decide what is biblically, theologically, and interpretively possible.

In order, then, for the truth to be seen, filters and lenses, and the impossibilities they create, must be removed and discarded. Otherwise, we run the risk of missing it because it has been reckoned, not just impossible, but unreasonable.

The Unseen Realm by Dr. Michael Heiser

5Q: Reactivating the Original Intelligence and Capacity of the Body of Christ by Alan Hirsch

Pagan Christianity? by Frank Viola & George Barna

Another problem created by theological filtration systems (TFS) is the resultant deformation of the metanarrative of scripture.

This goes a step further than simply separating out the portions of scripture that do not fit the doctrinal framework of a TFS. This type of filter acts more like a lens—a lens through which the entirety of scripture is viewed and understood… or misunderstood.

For instance, if the biblical metanarrative is, based off an emphasis on certain passages of scripture, believed to be justice for the oppressed, then that belief becomes the filter, or lens, that colors all other passages. It elevates justice for the oppressed as the primary theological message of the Bible.

A lens is difficult to address, even more so than a filter, because there is, like any TFS, a level of validity to it. The person/group that has adopted or created one has trouble seeing anything else. While filters divide the parts, lenses determine the whole. When a filter is used, it can be addressed by reemphasizing the parts that have been sifted out and discarded.

What I have found is that most people who adhere to a theological system that uses filters are unaware of said use. Thus, when confronted with the pieces that have been filtered out, they have no frame of reference for them, as they did not even know that they either existed or were pertinent to the theological conversation. A rather perplexing phenomenon when you consider that we’re dealing with, quote on quote, “biblical” theology.

A lens, however, is, as I said, more difficult tackle. Lenses are highly eisegetical. They apply their “coloring” onto every aspect of the biblical whole. Unless there is a willingness to remove the lens, the wearer will be severely limited in what they are able to see, as they are unwilling to see anything else.

Take the lens of Liberation Theology, a rather modern invention, for instance. To summarize: Liberation Theology asserts, among other fallacies, that all references to spiritual or supernatural forces, particularly those evil in nature, are metaphors for human institutions. As such, the agenda of the Christian and mission of the Church is not to free mankind from spiritual bondage but to resist institutional evil and liberate people from its captivity.

In other words, political activism. A brief look into its short history will make this clear.

When applied to the whole, this lens bends light to such a degree that nothing is seen clearly. Everything spiritual is chalked up to metaphor. Truth and morality are defined by modern societal standards. And the only evil forces in the world are white male colonialists, or those who look like them, and capitalism.

Apart from having no roots in scripture, this lens is a product of the post-enlightenment/scientific era and its subsequent worldview. It is ironic that a theological system that seeks to “desupernaturalize” the evil spiritual forces described throughout the scriptures still calls itself “Christianity”. If the “powers” are simply human institutions, then “the Power” must be as well. What’s more, to demythologize the majority of the biblical narrative but not the part where God becomes a man is nonsensical, at best.

Frankly, it is incoherent to selectively apply a metaphorical interpretation ad hoc. To do so to suit a preference is intellectually dishonest, especially when the premise upon which the system is built requires it.

The casuistry that is Liberation Theology demonstrates the pernicious affects that a TFS-created lens can have upon how the whole of scripture—the metanarrative—is viewed. Again, lenses color all that is seen. Yet if that lens is never removed or worn for too long, the true colors—the realities—of what is viewed through them are never known or altogether forgotten.

A lens, rather than enhancing the ocular experience, inhibits it. But because the lens colors the whole, not just a part, it affects the view through which the world of things—in this case, biblical theology—is perceived. The color spectrum many lenses make available is limited. As such, any description given regarding what constitutes biblical theology outside of that limited range does not compute. Any dissenting description is looked on with disdain, disinterest, and/or derision.

The world, as it is seen through lens “x”, is the real world. Biblical theology, as it is seen through lens “x”, is real biblical theology.

Now that is not to say that the biblical writers didn’t themselves have lenses. They most certainly did. However, they were not the lenses our post-Constantinian Protestantism have created. Nor were they the lenses of post-Enlightenment political Progressivism either.

To understand the worldview, the lens, of the biblical writers, our modern theological filtration systems have to be discarded. If we actually want to comprehend the metanarrative of scripture, to recognize it’s theological messaging, the colored lens through which we have been looking for so long need to be removed.

Otherwise, all that will ever be seen of the technicolor world that is biblical theology is the monotony of a single hue.

As stated in the previous post, most theological systems employ varying levels of interpretive filters in their approach to scripture. These filters create biases that have the capacity to determine what is seen—to shape one’s perspective. However, the real quandary lies in the fact that few see anything amiss with that. That’s the trouble with biases, everyone assumes they have the right one.

Some might take this a step further and claim that a mosaic perspective is also born from a bias: a bias against systems.

Perhaps. However, that would be understating the data. A mosaic perspective, that which is antithetical to filters, at least for me, was born out of asking why certain pieces (some big pieces, mind you) were sifted out of the scriptural whole. Not only were there certain questions that the theological systems failed to answer, but that they seemed to avoid altogether.

Ironic how unsystematic most systems can be…

Needless to say, this led me down a path of reviewing, rethinking, and relearning. It caused me to take a step back. To not miss the theological forest for the doctrinal trees.

I think what struck me most about theological filtration systems, or TFS’s, is the inconsistent nature of their hermeneutics. Or, should I say, the inconsistent application.

There are many methods used for interpreting the scriptures. A good—and to my mind, proper—hermeneutic will make use of them all. That is, in no small part, due to the fact that the compendium of scripture we call the Bible is, itself, a mosaic of sorts.

It is a compilation of varying forms of literature: poetry, historical accounts, polemics, letters, legal documents, mythic history, et cetera. As such, a singular interpretive tactic is insufficient. Yet all tactics must remain within the context of an exegetical aim or strategy.

That is, they should seek to expose rather than impose. Otherwise, we run the risk of conferring upon the text rather than inferring from it.

Having established that biblical hermeneutics must be based upon exegesis, I’d like to address further the claim that a mosaic approach is, itself, a TFS birthed from a bias against them. To do so, I will appeal to a form of textual criticism/interpretation known as Reasoned Eclecticism.

The main issue facing biblical interpreters is, obviously, linguistic. The scriptures, written in ancient Hebrew and koine Greek over centuries, have a variety of textual obstacles. Any honest biblical student, or believer for that matter, will—I would say they must—acknowledge this. Rather than rehearse the gamut, which would extend well beyond my aim, (if you would like a more exhaustive explanation and treatment of text criticism and the issues therein, see the list of references at the end of this post) suffice it to say that among the oldest extant manuscripts, both Hebrew and Greek, there are variant readings. The percentage is small but significant nonetheless.

Text Critical scholars spend their lives seeking to make sense of these variants and find the correct reading or version. To this problem, there are three main approaches: Reasoned Eclecticism, Thoroughgoing Eclecticism, and Byzantine Priority. I’ll summarize each in reverse order.

Byzantine Priority:

On the basis of transmissional considerations, the Byzantine-priority hypothesis would claim that the original form of the NT text would be more likely to manifest itself within whatever texttype might be overwhelmingly attested to within the manuscript tradition, to the exclusion of all others.

In short, whichever manuscript tradition has the most copies is considered the correct reading. (This, by the way, is the reasoning employed by ”King James Only” protagonists.)

Thoroughgoing Eclecticism:

In simplest terms, thoroughgoing eclecticism consists of taking all manuscript readings and choosing the best based solely on internal criteria. In other words, the data or evidence used for deduction is isolated to the manuscripts themselves. No exterior data is consulted.

Reasoned Eclecticism:

New Testament textual critics work with two categories of evidence, conventionally designated as “external” (provided by the manuscripts themselves, including relative age, geographic distribution, and relative weight of the witnesses) and as “internal” (dealing with scribal habits and practice, on the one hand, and authorial style and vocabulary, on the other).

To do justice to both sorts of evidence, nearly all contemporary textual critics utilize a methodological approach generally known as “reasoned eclecticism.” In this approach, one fundamental guideline governs all other considerations: at any given point of variation, the variant most likely to represent the initial text is the one that best accounts for the existence of the others. It is important to emphasize that “best accounts for” is to be understood as encompassing both internal and external considerations.

In short, reasoned eclecticism looks at all the evidence (internal and external) and seeks to find an answer that makes sense or represents all of it.

Reasoned Eclecticism, is in Textual Criticism, what I would call a mosaic approach. It is also illustrative of the hermeneutical approach I’ve been describing. The mosaic perspective/approach to hermeneutics (scriptural/biblical interpretation) has the same general premise as Reasoned Eclecticism: what interpretation best fits the external and internal evidence of the scriptures.

Internal evidence meaning written linguistic content. External evidence meaning historical, cultural, and theological context.

On the face of it, most theologians, interpreters, and doctrinal adherents would agree with that methodology. However, TFS’s are notorious for, what I call, subjective contextual isolation. That is, they pick and choose when and if they will consult external evidence, as defined above, to aid in the interpretive process.

Let me give you an example. A common case of subjective contextual isolation (SCI) is applied to quotations of Jeremiah 29:11. We’ve all seen believers quote this scripture as a declaration of hope for a better future, especially in difficult times—even recent difficult times. A trend I have noticed from certain theological circles (which will remain nameless) is to respond to such quotations with words, just shy of mockery, to this affect:

“”For I know the plans that I am planning concerning you,’ declares Yahweh, ‘plans for prosperity and not for harm, to give to you a future and a hope”…if you’re a seventh century Israelite living in captivity in Babylon.”” The implication of such a statement is that this verse has no relevant application to the life of a modern believer.

In order to make this case, the verse is subjectively isolated by the critic to its historical and cultural context. Thus nullifying it of relevance to any future persons, Israelite or otherwise.

To show the flaw in this logic, let’s look at another frequently quoted scripture from the same book. But before we do, consider the ramifications of such interpretive reasoning if applied more broadly, even only to the book of Jeremiah. Since the audience Jeremiah was writing to was seventh century Israel in captivity in Babylon, following the reasoning of this particular SCI, none of the prophet’s words contained in scripture have relevance to any future persons, Israelite or otherwise, beyond that isolated historical group.

What’s more, the frequently quoted scripture I mentioned, which I am about to address, and the doctrine of the theological circle I referenced that it props up become subjected to the limitations set by the SCI. The verse to which I am referring is a famous proof text for the doctrine of total depravity. It is Jeremiah 17:9, “The heart is deceitful more than anything else, and it is disastrous. Who can understand it?”

If the same logic behind the subjective contextual isolation applied to Jeremiah 29:11 is also applied to 17:9, then any ontological implications it may offer in regards to sin are isolated to seventh century Israelites in captivity in Babylon.

Now one might argue that there is a difference in context between 17:9 and 29:11. That argument would be mistaken. Both instances have “says the Lord”, or a declaration by the prophet (Jeremiah in this case) on behalf of Yahweh to Israel, as their context. They are both prophetic utterances. The only difference is content not context.

This further solidifies the subjective nature of this line of reasoning. Especially since no one who applies it to 29:11 would ever apply it to 17:9, let alone the whole book.

It is precisely interpretive issues, or hermeneutical inconsistencies—more like hypocrisies, but I digress—such as this, inherent to many, if not all, theological filtration systems that make the case for the need for reasoned eclecticism in hermeneutics (i.e. a mosaic perspective/approach).

To put it frankly, and conclusively, filters are blinders that prevent the full picture from becoming visible. To use the mosaic metaphor, because filters sift and sort out certain types of pieces, they create holes. Some of which are quite large—even gaping. Which is a problem—at least, it should be—if one is going to claim to adhere to a biblical theology. Portions of the scripture may support it, but any system created and sustained via the use of filters is hardly representative of the whole.

David Alan Black Rethinking New Testament Textual Criticism

D.A. Carson The King James Version Debate: A Plea for Realism

The Naked Bible Podcast Episodes 99 & 104

“And he said to him, “What is written in the law? How do you read it?””
‭‭Luke‬ ‭10‬:‭26‬ ‭LEB‬‬

The Bible is a fascinating book, to say the least. Rich, complex, ancient; it is a thing of wonder not only in terms of literary quality, but theological quality as well. Yet there is nearly two millennia between us and even the latest New Testament author.

If it’s true that we don’t see things as they are, but see them as we are, then the gapping historical chasm that exists between the modern believer and those of the first century is a component that becomes paramount to our contextual understanding of scripture and, therefore, our interpretation as well.

With this in mind, “How do you read it?”, becomes a rather pressing question.

“Have you forgotten the Deep Magic?” asked the Witch. “Let us say I have forgotten it,” answered Aslan gravely. “Tell us of this Deep Magic.”
—C.S. Lewis The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

If Jesus Himself were to ask me that question, if He were to feign memory loss and insist I inform Him of the Deep Magic, how would I answer? What would my response be?

How would I claim to read it?

If one of the biblical writers or a first century believer were to ask what I thought of a certain passage of scripture or the latest apostolic correspondence, how would my takeaway (my perception, interpretation, and comprehension) of the material stack up next to theirs?

They say hindsight is 20/20. But even historical clarity is affected by perspective and bias—by one’s filter. In other words, from what perspective and bias and through what filter is history, especially biblical history, being viewed?

The late Dr. Michael Heiser said:

“…It would be dishonest of us to claim that the biblical writers read and understood the text the way we do as modern people, or intended meanings that conform to theological systems created centuries after the text was written. Our context is not their context.

Seeing the Bible through the eyes of an ancient reader requires shedding the filters of our traditions and presumptions. They processed life in supernatural terms. Today’s Christian processes it by a mixture of creedal statements and modern rationalism. I want to help you recover the supernatural worldview of the biblical writers—the people who produced the Bible.

Filters are used to eliminate things in order to achieve a desired result.

Most of my education was conducted in this way—using filters. It was no sinister plot. It was just what it was. The content I learned was filtered through certain presumptions and traditions that ordered the material for me, that put it into a system that made sense to my modern mind. Verses that didn’t quite work with my tradition were “problem passages” that were either filtered out or consigned to the periphery of unimportance. I understand that a lot of well-meaning Bible students, pastors, and professors don’t look at how they approach the Bible that way. I know I didn’t. But it’s what happens. We view the Bible through the lens of what we know and what’s familiar.

Our traditions, however honorable, are not intrinsic to the Bible. They are systems we invent to organize the Bible. They are artificial. They are filters.

Once I’d been awakened to this, it struck me as faithless to use a filter. But throwing away my filters cost me the systems with which I’d ordered Scripture and doctrine in my mind. I was left with lots of fragments. It didn’t feel like it at the time, but that was the best thing that could have happened.

The facts of the Bible are just pieces—bits of scattered data. Our tendency is to impose order, and to do that we apply a filter. But we gain a perspective that is both broader and deeper if we allow ourselves to see the pieces in their own wider context. We need to see the mosaic created by the pieces.

The Bible is really a theological and literary mosaic. The pattern in a mosaic often isn’t clear up close. It may appear to be just a random assemblage of pieces. Only when you step back can you see the wondrous whole. Yes, the individual pieces are essential; without them there would be no mosaic. But the meaning of all the pieces is found in the completed mosaic. And a mosaic isn’t imposed on the pieces; it derives from them.”
—Dr. Michael Heiser The Unseen Realm

From this we see that the problem isn’t the Bible. The problem is the way we think about the Bible. Let’s explore this further.

Consider an oft quoted passage:

“”I have come to bring fire on the earth, and how I wish that it had been kindled already!

Do you think that I have come to grant peace on the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division! For from now on there will be five in one household, divided three against two and two against three. They will be divided, father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother, mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law.””
‭‭Luke‬ ‭12‬:‭49‬, ‭51‬-‭53‬ ‭LEB‬‬

Fire and division: are they distinct or two sides of the same phenomenological coin? Some say Jesus is referring to His desire to bring judgement upon the earth. Others say He is speaking metaphorically of the spiritual polarization His coming has caused and will continue to provoke. While still others differ.

Yet all have this in common: they are the interpretive results of a theological filtration system.

The issue, it seems, is how to sort out which interpretation is correct. But that isn’t quite right either. Seeing as filters separate, it is possible for a filtration system to be partially correct. That is, to use a mathematics metaphor, they may find the solution but do so using the wrong formula or vice versa. Whichever the case, both the solution and the formula are necessary to understand the whole equation.

It does us no more good to arrive at the right answer but not know why or how we got there than it does to know why and how we got to the wrong one.

This becomes an even bigger issue when we realize that the formulas we apply to biblical problems are modern inventions that only make sense in our own context. In the case of the above quoted portion of Luke 12, we see this pointedly.

One important fact to bear in mind is just because certain things the Bible says do not make sense to us—that is, we find no direct correlation or relevance to our modern context—does not mean the same was true for the original hearers/readers. In this specific case, the audience to which Jesus was speaking, and predominately spoke to throughout his earthly ministry, were Judeans. Or, as the Old Testament puts it, the remnant of Israel. In short, Israelites.

They knew the Old Testament or Hebrew scriptures well. Even though many were functionally illiterate, the stories of their people were heard and the scripture read at the local synagogue. As such, when Jesus spoke of not coming to bring peace but a sword, a sword that would divide even families, there is a specific historical instance that would have come to mind.

“And Moses saw the people, that they were running wild because Aaron had allowed them to run wild, for a laughingstock among their enemies. And Moses stood at the entrance of the camp, and he said, “Whoever is for Yahweh, to me.” And all the sons of Levi were gathered to him. And he said to them, “Thus says Yahweh, the God of Israel, ‘Put each his sword on his side. Go back and forth from gate to gate in the camp, and kill, each his brother and each his friend and each his close relative.’ ” And the sons of Levi did according to the word of Moses, and from the people on that day about three thousand persons fell.”
‭‭Exodus‬ ‭32‬:‭25‬-‭28‬ ‭LEB‬‬

A rather intense passage but one that would have been well-known among the Judeans of Jesus’ day. Of the remnant that remained of the Kingdom of Judah were the Levites.

As the designated priesthood of Israel, they would have most likely passed down through the generations the story of how they came to be entrusted with this sacred responsibility. Be that as it may, Jesus was not advocating for another display of literal violence. His response to Peter in the Garden (Matt. 26:25) makes this clear.

It then becomes evident from the historical biblical context that Jesus is referring to the sharp polarization and divide following him will cause in even the closest of relationships. He is setting the same terms concerning loyalty to him as were set for those who claimed to be loyal to Yahweh during the Golden Calf incident: there is no middle ground. While the sword is metaphorical, the harsh relational standard—some might call it relational violence—is not, as Exodus 32:25-29 informs us.

The New Testament, in many respects, is not only a polemic against the empire of Rome, as well as a cosmic polemic against the powers of spiritual darkness (more on that in future posts), but commentary on the Old Testament. That is to say, much of what is recorded in the New Testament has Old Testament antecedents, a fact evidenced by both direct and indirect references. References that are often missed because they are filtered out by our doctrinal and theological systems.

To reiterate the sentiments expressed in the aforementioned quotation, modern filters are eisegetical tools used to assemble and fortify the structures of foregone conclusions. Theological filtration systems applied to the Biblical text create doctrinal blindspots and often betray interpretive and hermeneutical prejudices. In other words, we’ll never see what we’re unwilling to consider.

Theological filtration systems produce predictable results. They will seldom lead anywhere but to their predetermined conclusions. They are designed to do so. But, more often than not, even long-standing theological systems don’t know what to do with certain passages, passages that throw a wrench in the gears of their doctrinal mechanisms.

The irony is, when these “problem passages” are encountered, most so-called biblically based systems, rather than reassess their stances in accordance with what is actually found in the scripture, will either brush them aside, downplay them, or offer them a shallow and brief explanation.

Why? Because systems make us comfortable. Formulas help us relax. Algorithms allow us to switch off. Filters and systems are prized, even venerated, because they tell us we’re right—that our biases, our prejudices, and our perspectives are clearly correct and biblically backed.

There it is. There is the crux of the matter. This is why the rest of the biblical account in Luke’s gospel is as follows:

“And behold, a certain legal expert stood up to test him, saying, “Teacher, what must I do so that I will inherit eternal life?” And he said to him, “What is written in the law? How do you read it?”

And he answered and said, “You shall love the Lord your God from all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.” And he said to him, “You have answered correctly. Do this and you will live.” But he, wanting to justify himself, said to Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

And Jesus replied and said, “A certain man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who both stripped him and beat him. After inflicting blows on him, they went away, leaving him half dead. Now by coincidence a certain priest was going down on that road, and when he saw him, he passed by on the opposite side. And in the same way also a Levite, when he came down to the place and saw him, passed by on the opposite side.

But a certain Samaritan who was traveling came up to him and, when he saw him, had compassion. And he came up and bandaged his wounds, pouring on olive oil and wine, and he put him on his own animal and brought him to an inn and took care of him. And on the next day, he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper, and said, “Take care of him, and whatever you spend in addition, I will repay to you when I return.”

Which of these three do you suppose became a neighbor of the man who fell among the robbers?” So he said, “The one who showed mercy to him.” And Jesus said to him, “You go and do likewise.””
‭‭Luke‬ ‭10‬:‭25‬-‭37‬ ‭LEB‬‬

“How do you read it?” This legal expert’s theological filtration system failed to justify his prejudice, a prejudice of which Jesus was astutely aware. He knew the Deep Magic, but there was (and is) a Deeper Magic that he did not know—or perhaps didn’t want to.

Which begs the question: are our perspectives shaped by our filters or our filters by our perspectives? The answer: yes. Our perspectives create filters that function to reinforce our perspectives in a vicious theological cycle. A cycle that results in the truth being transformed by us rather than us by it. We assemble the pieces to our liking, completely unaware of the mosaic we have overlooked and subsequently deconstructed.

That is why questions like “How do you read it?” are so beneficial yet so jarring. They take us off auto-pilot. They rouse us from our slumber. They reveal the truth: that we’ve missed the forest for the trees. That we may know of the Deep Magic but we don’t know it.

“How do you read it?” Our answer to that question may tell us more than we’re ready to accept… but we’ll never see what we’re unwilling to consider.