The Text(s) of Scripture: the living word of God

This is the second in the Text(s) of Scripture series between Thomas and myself.  Our text is Luke 3:1-3:

In the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar—when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, Herod tetrarch of Galilee, his brother Philip tetrarch of Iturea and Traconitis, and Lysanias tetrarch of Abilene— during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the desert. He went into all the country around the Jordan, preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.

Thom: There is no other way around it.  This passage necessitates a different understanding of “word of God” than as a synonym for the Bible.  Putting aside the fact that John calls Christ the Word, here in this passage the word of God travelling to John in the desert cannot be interpreted as an autobiographical testimony (the Bible talking about itself). 

There is a spiritual, or better yet “Holy Spiritual” aspect to the Word of God travelling.  The word of God is travelling, on the mood, a rushing wind—pushing John out into the desert and filling his mouth with the traditional Jewish prophetic decleration: repent!

The word of God is active here, it is spiltting sould and spirit, calling people to repent, to go out into the desert to remove themselves from the patterns of the world.  To die.  To be planted in the baptismal water and rise up again as a new creation.

The word of God is moving John around the country as the Holy Spirit hovered over the waters at the dawn of Creation.  This prophecy is creational, calling people to a new Eden, a new way to live.

A bound book made by a scribe did not grow legs and arms and push John out into the desert with super-book strength.  The word of God came from outside the “word of God.”  Wait, no, that is a bad way to look at this.  One way is not proper, the other mystical or “other.”  Instead, the word of God is just that: the word of God.

It is written on paper.

It is written on our hearts.

And sometimes it comes to us, and speaks to us, and lets us know our calling.  Our calling into the desert, our calling into new creation, our calling into the kingdom.

Dave:  What jumps out at me in this passage is that the “word of God” moves “to” John the Baptist.  In the Greek, the preposition translated “to” here is “epi,” which means “on” or “upon.”  So John is waiting in the desert and the “word of God” seizes him.  He is filled, perhaps suddenly and noticeably, with something that causes him to get up and preach.

It’s also interesting that “word of God” here is “rhema Theou,” not the “logos ton Theou” of Hebrews 4:12 (our previous text).  Why “rhema” — an utterance or topic, often of command or dispute — rather than “logos,” a “word” with its Johanine implications of the divine essence / Christ?  Well, I lack the scholarly chops to say anything definitive about that, but perhaps it’s significant that Luke uses a forceful term for “word.”  The “word of God” here animates and compels John.  It is time for action. John is seized by an imperative from God that compels him to preach.

This can remind us, I think, that the “word of God” is transformative.  I’m very tempted here to say something Barthian:  the “word of God” is only really the “word of God” when it is transforming the Christian community and the world.  Maybe I’d nuance that a bit:  the “word of God” must transform us if it is to function in and through us as God desires.  The “word of God” has not “come upon” us when we extract a list of propositions from the Biblical texts, nor can any such list of propositions transform the world.  Rather, the “word of God” has “come upon” us when it causes us to repent and to call others to repentance from the violence and death of sin to the peace and life of righteousness (right-ness) in Christ.