Refrigerator Magnet Theology and Sanctification
My husband has often shared a fond memory from his long-ago seminary days. Professor Bob Lyon, who taught Inductive Bible Study at Asbury Theological Seminary, would frequently start class by writing “C.I.E.” on the chalkboard in very large letters, his shorthand for “context is everything.” It may sound like purposeful overstatement, but when it comes to careful and accurate interpretation of biblical texts, any overstatement here is slight. Context really, really matters—as my students learn quickly! Context is our necessary first step in the close observation of a passage and is also the first kind of evidence to be considered when making the turn from observation to interpretation. Attention to the literary context of a passage means paying attention to things like where the passage is located in the overall flow and design of the book, how it relates to the material immediately around it in the text, and how the answers to those questions affect the way we read and understand the message of the passage. Context, therefore, provides significant parameters for interpretation—any understanding of the passage’s “meaning” that ignores the contextual clues is worthy of deep suspicion. In words frequently attributed to D.A. Carson, “A text without a context is merely a pretext for a proof text.”
Failure to pay attention to context is one of the factors that leads to what I call “refrigerator magnet theology.” You’ve seen it—verses (or even fragments of verses) lifted out of their context and stamped onto a refrigerator magnet or a bumper sticker or T-shirt. At best, they become Christian platitudes; at worst, they become stand-alone tent poles upon which entire theological tents are pitched. Here’s a little exercise: take one of these popular phrases lifted from Scripture and think about the force, meaning, and applications typically associated with it when it hangs out alone on the refrigerator, disconnected from its context:
“All things work together for good for those who love God” (Rom. 8:28, NRSV).
“I can do all things through [Christ] who strengthens me” (Phil. 4:13).
“[God] is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think” (Eph. 3:20, KJV).
Genesis 22:14, “Jehovah-Jireh” (“My Provider”). Those of you from a certain generation of youth group attenders, you know you’re humming it right now!
As I reflected on the ways I’ve heard these biblical words “sloganized,” a startling pattern of feel-good, self-focused comfort emerged. My need, what is good for me in this moment, personal provision of my needs (usually of the material kind)—it is to these kinds of matters that “refrigerator magnet” theology is often applied. But if we, like careful jewelers, reset these scriptural gems into their literary contexts, a very different pattern emerges. These words of hope and confidence are deeply embedded within messages about sanctification. Their promises and truths have very little to do with personal comfort and a whole lot to do with the transforming work of the Holy Spirit in our lives and in the world. Even a brief look at our previous examples in their Scriptural contexts is illuminating.
Romans 8:18–30 is a portrait of the “already-not yet” nature of life in the Spirit. The sphere in which we live out our identity as children of God is this-world reality, characterized by “present suffering” (v. 18), groaning (v. 23), and weakness (v. 26). In the midst of such experiences, the indwelling Spirit of Christ empowers us to “put to death the deeds of the flesh” (v. 13), confirms our adoption into God’s family (vv. 14–16), and helps us in our weakness, interceding for us directly into the heart of the Father (v. 26). This empowering, confirming, and helping is directed toward one big goal—our being “conformed to the image of God’s Son” (v. 29). It is to this end—our sanctification—that “all things work together for good” (v. 28).
Philippians 4:10–20 recounts the give-and-take mutuality of the relationship between Paul and the believers in Philippi. In particular, it highlights how the Philippian church had supported Paul financially on more than one occasion. While Paul expresses deep gratitude for their partnership, he is quick to underscore an important insight about the experience of poverty or perceived “lack” that might happen as a result of being about the mission of the kingdom: “Not that I was ever in need, for I have learned how to be content with whatever I have. I know how to live on almost nothing or with everything. I have learned the secret of living in every situation, whether it is with a full stomach or empty, with plenty or little” (vv. 11–12, NLT). It is in this context of learning utter dependence on Jesus that Paul declares, “For I can do everything through Christ who gives me strength” (v. 13). Looking back across the larger context of chapters 3 and 4, Paul has exhorted the Philippians, through the example of his own experience and via a series of imperatives, to a life of becoming like Christ—sharing his sufferings (3:10), pressing forward to the finish line with him (3:15), cultivating joy in the Lord (4:4), ordering their thinking around the values of Christ’s kingdom (4:8–9). In short, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” is the declaration of someone fully committed to collaborating with the divine project of developing in him “the same mind that was in Christ Jesus” (2:5).
The invocation of the One who “is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine” (Eph. 3:20, NRSV) occurs at the end of Paul’s robust prayer for the sanctification of the Ephesian believers (3:14–21). If you’re in a Wesleyan covenant band, you probably pray this prayer on a weekly basis—and if you’re like me, you’re often stopped in your tracks by the breadth and depth of Paul’s petitions. He asks that the Father strengthen Jesus’ people with power through the Holy Spirit, and that Christ dwell in their hearts through faith, with all of this abundance flowing out of God’s glorious riches (vv. 16–17). He prays that they might know, experience, and understand the unlimited scope of Christ’s love for them (vv. 18–19). The summative goal of all that Paul prays for in this impassioned petition is that believers might be “filled with all the fullness of God” (v. 19). The “abundantly far more” calls us to imagine the breath-taking depth and breadth of the sanctifying and transforming work of the Spirit in our lives.
Genesis 22:1–19 is the quintessential portrait of sanctification-as-surrender. Nearing the final years of his earthly adventure with God, Abraham must still grow into the fullness of trust; he has not yet arrived at the destination of the journey of faith. The growth opportunity that the Lord offers this old pilgrim appears to be an untenable choice between faithful, costly obedience on the one hand and, on the other, a refusal that would make a mockery of the four decades that Abraham and God have been traveling together. With his feet set resolutely on the path of trust, Abraham declares with conviction in response to Isaac’s perspicacious curiosity, “God himself will provide the lamb” (v. 8). When Yahweh does indeed provide an animal to take Isaac’s place as the sacrifice, the grateful father and tested saint names that place “Jehovah-Jireh,” The Lord Will Provide (v. 14). Abraham’s confidence in God’s provision, expressed in that profound label, is pregnant with soteriological and pneumatological provision. “Jehovah-Jireh” points not to a new job or relationship or “success” (whether personal, professional, or ministerial), but to something far greater—salvation and sanctification that God will provide in wondrous abundance.
Looking at these “refrigerator magnet” tidbits of Scripture within their literary contexts underscores just how much our holiness matters to God and how committed he is to the Spirit’s sanctifying work in our lives. He desires that we be conformed to the image of his Son (Rom. 8), that we have the mind of Christ (Phil. 2), and that we be filled to all the fullness of God (Eph. 3). As in the case of Abraham, this will be a life-long project, with ever new depths of faith and ever expanding horizons of obedience and submission. Perhaps we don’t need to toss out our refrigerator magnets or ball caps or t-shirts, with their snippets and slogans—but let us throw off “refrigerator magnet theology” and embrace a robust understanding of holiness as a central characteristic of the people of God.
Rachel Coleman is affiliate professor of Biblical Studies at Asbury Theological Seminary, profesora adjunta de Nuevo Testamento for United Theological Seminary, and the regional theological education coordinator (Latin America) for One Mission Society. She serves on Firebrand’s Editorial Board.