Kingdom Through Covenant (Review)

They go on to insist, “We should always remember that Torah…means personal instruction from God as Father and King of his people rather than just ‘law’” (356).

In the second chapter on the Mosaic covenant, Gentry and Wellum argue that “The book of Deuteronomy is the centre of the entire Old Testament, in terms both of metanarrative and theology” (363). In fact, they argue that the place of Deuteronomy 6:5 in the literary structure of Deuteronomy makes it “the key text of the Old Testament” (366). Due to the use of kārat bĕrît in Deuteronomy 28:69 (29:1 ESV), Deuteronomy is viewed as its own covenant, yet as a “supplement” to the Mosaic covenant (378). In this section, the authors reinforce their arguments that Torah means “instruction rather than law” and that Deuteronomy 12-26 demonstrates this to be the case as God instructs Israel how to live in the land. The Mosaic covenant is summarized by the argument that “by means of the Israelite covenant, God intends for the nation to fulfill the Adamic role reassigned to Abraham. Through covenant, God will bring his blessing and establish his rule in the lives of his people and, through them, to the rest of the world” (388).

The Davidic covenant is developed from 2 Samuel 7 where, the authors rightly argue, the absence of the word bĕrît is no reason to reject the notion that a covenant was indeed made there. Psalm 89, they note, uses bĕrît to describe God’s dealing with David (as do other passages). The sum of this covenant is that the king must “embody Torah as a model citizen” (399). In relation to the Mosaic covenant, “This is a clear illustration of federal headship: the king is the nation in himself” (423). In relation to the Abrahamic covenant, the king brings Israel to rest and safety within the promised land and is the source of mediating blessing to the nations (423-26).

Following the exegesis of the Old Testament covenants, Gentry and Wellum discuss the new covenant as it is presented in Isaiah, Ezekiel, Jeremiah, and Daniel’s seventy weeks as well as an extended treatment of Paul’s command to “speak the truth in love” as an example of the new covenant community demonstrating the kind of conduct that was envisioned in the old covenant.

Time and space do not permit a detailed review of all of the points made in these chapters, but a few summary statements will suffice. Drawing from Isaiah, the Servant of the Lord “must be the future king,” and will “represent the nation as a whole” in his death and resurrection (440-41). “The new covenant therefore brings to fruition God’s promises and purposes in all the others” (445). Drawing from Ezekiel, “The covenant relationship will be restored once they are cleansed from sin” (480). “A Davidic king will be established as ruler over the renewed Israel and, as a result, the people will carefully keep the instruction in the covenant.” This leads to the restoration of the temple as well, but all of this is understood in a national and spiritual return from exile (480). In Jeremiah, as one would expect, ample attention is dedicated to chapter 31, in which they argue that the new covenant will be its own covenant. It will not be a renewal or administration of another covenant. Rather, God will kārat a new bĕrît, cut a new covenant with the house of Israel and Judah (512). Drawing from Matthew 26, the house of Israel and Judah are understood to be Jesus’ people, believers, those in whom the Spirit resides and upon whose hearts the law has been written (496-97). The new covenant is established on better promises through a better mediator (513). In Daniel, the same features are found but in different contexts. The message is that “the vicarious death of the coming king brings about a confirming/strengthening/upholding of a covenant with ‘the many,’ almost certainly ‘the many’ referred to in Isaiah 53:10-12” (550). Lastly, Ephesians 4:25-5:5 is interpreted to show that Paul views the church as the new covenant community envisioned and promised in the prophets. Gentry and Wellum’s view of Torah as instruction as opposed to law is seen again in the claim that Paul “devotes more space to encouragement and motivation than to hammering people with commands” (568). This chapter concludes the exegetical portion of the book.

The final section of the book summarizes and synthesizes the work that has already been done. The argument is that God establishes his kingdom of salvation through the biblical covenants in two senses: in the sense of agency and in the sense of chronology (594). God’s covenant partners are to be his faithful servants, agents of his will. Thus God’s kingdom is established through covenant. However, the biblical metanarrative is built on the unfaithfulness of the covenant partners and thus the progressive establishment of God’s kingdom through covenants over time. Christ is the resolution of this metanarrative, but while he has inaugurated the kingdom of God it awaits consummation. D-Day has come, but V-Day awaits (600).

In reviewing the hermeneutical foundations, the authors conclude that the conditional/unconditional classification of covenant theology does not accurately reflect the blending of the two in the biblical covenants and thus misses the inherent tension of the metanarrative and the desire for a faithful covenant partner. Typology is applied to dispensationalism and covenant theology to show that both systems contain a similar error: the perpetuation of a national element of the Abrahamic covenant. For dispensationalism that is seen in the expectation of the promise land being restored to Israel. For covenant theology that is seen in granting the covenant sign to children. According to Gentry and Wellum, proper typology assigns the correct place to each of these elements and finds them fulfilled in their own time (121-26, 606-08).

Each covenant is then reviewed. In summary, “the progressive revelation of the covenants tell us a story…They anticipate in many ways that in the coming and work of this Son…God’s saving rule and reign will come to this world” (644).

The final chapter makes certain applications in light of Christology, ecclesiology, and eschatology. For example, if Christ represents his people as the one who makes atonement for their sins, and if we believe in a definite number of individuals for whom Christ performed this mission, how can there be any in his covenant who fail to enjoy the benefits thereof? And how can they be under his federal headship in any sense (670-83)? The obvious ramifications are an understanding of the church as the new covenant community, a community regenerated by the Spirit, whose sins are forgiven by the blood of the new covenant (690-92). We must evaluate people based on profession and accept the limitations of our judgment (693). There is a great difference between finding goats among the sheep and admitting goats among the sheep. Lastly, we are waiting for a new creation, a consummated kingdom, not a return to Israel. Christ is building his kingdom and through his covenant all will be brought to its rightful end to the glory of God.

Critique

It goes without saying that Gentry and Wellum are to be commended for their detailed, careful, and extensive work. They are also to be commended for a desire to say what God has said in such a way that reflects the way that he has said it. But we must now turn to iron-sharpening and face the giants in the land.

The fundamental argument of Kingdom through Covenant is sound. God does indeed govern his world through dominion delegated by covenant. The overall metanarrative is also sound. There is a great tension/need in the progress of the historical covenants for one who will do perfectly all that God commands. But the authors are operating under a few false dilemmas.

They propose their system as a via media between covenant theology and dispensationalism. From all appearances, covenant theology equals paedobaptism. The only hint to the contrary is the brief mention of Greg Nichols’ book in the preface (12- 13). Forasmuch as the authors are weary of the rehearsal of the same arguments from covenant theologians, they would find many an ally among the federal theologians of the seventeenth-century Particular Baptists. A rejection of the idea that the historical covenants are simply “administrations” of the covenant of grace, an appreciation for the progressive nature of God’s covenantal dealings with man, and an insistence that the new covenant is the covenant of grace are arguments that have been brought forward in the past. But these arguments did not entail the same rejection of the covenant of works and covenant of grace as is seen in this book. Thus, it is a false dilemma to see no party besides paedobaptist federal theologians and dispensationalists.

This leads me to a second false dilemma. Gentry and Wellum are critical of the conditional/unconditional framework of standard covenant theology. I cannot help but agree with them, to a degree. When it comes to the Noahic, Abrahamic, Mosaic, and Davidic covenants there is indeed a blend in which God vows to make good on a promise while demanding that the covenant partner perform certain actions as well. They ought not to be reduced too hastily to one or the other without careful consideration. But when it comes to the covenant of works and covenant of grace, we have explicit scriptural warrant for doing so. In passages like Romans 4:4-6; 5:12-21; 11:6 and Galatians 3:18, there is an explicit contrast between wages and gifts, obedience and gifts, grace and works, and law and promise. All of this revolves around justification, a perfect record of righteousness. In such a case, these two are not two ends of a continuum, but two truly mutually exclusive polar opposites. The false dilemma is that if we isolate the covenant of works and covenant of grace from the covenants previously mentioned, and consider them on their own, then they truly are conditional and unconditional in the fullest sense. Nevertheless, that does not change the fact that when dealing with covenants in which perfect eschatological righteousness is not in view there are blends of conditionality.

This in turn leads to a third false dilemma. The covenant of works and covenant of grace metanarrative is pitted against the metanarrative of progressive covenantalism. That is almost like pitting the chapters of a book against the beginning and end of a book. While classic covenant theology may say that the metanarrative hinges on two covenants, as long as we understand that between the two lies a progression of covenants (as the seventeenth-century Particular Baptists argued), such a dilemma is dissolved. The new covenant is progressively revealed in and through the covenants of the Old Testament, but remains distinct from them.

In the biblical-theological summary of the covenants (611-52), reasons are given for the departure from the classic formulation of the covenant of works. While admitting that the classic covenant of works is “on the right track” (610), their disagreements are unhelpfully woven into a defense of the validity of a covenant in Genesis 1-3. There is, they argue, a covenant, but it is not the covenant of works. Yet they agree that Adam played a representative role on behalf of the human race, that there were conditions of obedience, and that there were sanctions for obedience. They even agree that the tree of life symbolized a reward of life and that it served as a probationary test (667). Their reasons for preferring the title “covenant of creation” are unclear.

Regarding the new covenant, the authors view it as being “completely effective…in terms of both provision and application” (681). You cannot break the new covenant. As they proceed, they argue, “Theologically, the entire story line of Scripture is centered on two-foundational individuals–Adam and Christ” (616) and later that “Biblically and theologically, it is difficult to overestimate the importance of the Adam-Christ typological relationship for understanding the story line of Scripture” (616). They continue to argue that “Scripture is clear that all human beings fall under the representative headship of two people: Adam and Christ.” They even assert that the promise of Genesis 3:15 unfolds in “the entire story line of Scripture …through the biblical covenants” (628). If this is not the basic structure of the classic covenant of works and covenant of grace biblical metanarrative, then I don’t know what is.

It’s not hard to conclude why there is fuzziness here. The treatment of the covenant of creation has giant holes in its coverage. There is an inexplicable lack of exegetical attention to Genesis 3. A passing comment states that Paul makes it plain that we are somehow involved in Adam’s fall (216). If it is made “plain” by Paul, then we were all involved more than “somehow.” Yet Genesis 3:14-19, the curses of the covenant (and the protevangelium), is not treated at all in the chapter on the covenant of creation. To a defender of the classic covenant of works, it appears quite odd to give no exegetical attention to this part of Genesis 1-3. And if, as stated before, the authors really do believe that Genesis 3:15 is unfolded in the rest of the plot of Scripture through the various covenants, then why does it (and the surrounding curses) receive not even one blot of ink in this chapter? Does not the fallen condition of mankind and the promise of restoration constitute the entire biblical narrative from this point on? It would be one thing to exegete the text and argue against the classic covenant of works, but it is inexcusable to bypass this data completely. It is precisely in these verses that the covenant of works and covenant of grace metanarrative of classic covenant theology is established, and yet it is here that the powerhouse exegetical machines of this book quietly excuse themselves. For those who insist that systematic conclusions be firmly established on exegetical foundations, chapters 16 and 17 assume a great deal of non-existent exegesis in Genesis 3. In fact, given that the conclusions about Genesis 3 in chapter 16 appear so in line with the classic covenant of works, one wonders what that assumed exegesis would look like and how it would change the presentation of the “covenant of creation.”

I understand the authors’ reservations. To embrace the covenant of works, in their minds, is to embrace all of the errors of classic covenant theology. But they are operating under a false dilemma. Along the same lines it would seem their opinion is that covenant theology is equal to the classic formulation of the covenant of grace being one in substance, varying only in administration. They state, “It is more accurate to think in terms of a plurality of covenants, which are part of the progressive revelation of the one plan of God that is fulfilled in the new covenant” (602). Though the model of substance and multiple administrations may be the dominant paedobaptist portrayal, it is not the dominant portrayal of the history of Baptist federal theology. A good dose of Baptist historical theology might be of great benefit.⁴

The irony of this critique is that for all the prospection of progressive covenantalism, the covenant of creation goes second in the exegetical portion of this book. Because Genesis 6:18 indicates the existence of a prior covenant we are justified in returning to Genesis 1-3 to find it. Why stop at Genesis 6:18, or Genesis, or the Pentateuch, or Hosea, etc.? I do not deny those exegetical relations and realities. But a consistent application of such a method would add more of a canonical voice to some of the interpretations of these texts.

Moving on, a slight concern is the language of “fresh start” and “clean slate” (174) attributed to Noah, and later to Abraham (224). In light of the continued emphasis of “progressive covenantalism,” language like “progressive steps” might be a better choice, and might avoid unnecessary and unsound associations with the fragmented metanarrative of dispensationalism. Moreover, this would be more in line with the authors’ statement that the promise of Genesis 3:15 unfolds in “the entire story line of Scripture …through the biblical covenants” (628). From such language, one is left with the impression of God crumpling up paper and starting his plans anew. Surely, that is not accurate of the one whose “plan for the fullness of time” is “to unite all things” in Christ (Eph. 1:10).

I also see reason to reconsider the argument about hēqîm bĕrît. The authors present detailed argumentation of this distinction, yet not all is clear. The definition given would indicate that hēqîm bĕrît never means “to initiate a covenant,” yet they clarify that there is “a clear demarcation between covenants made for the first time and renewal covenants which confirm or ratify covenants initiated previously” (160). Thus, “To view the covenant with Noah as a kind of reinstatement and upholding of a covenant or commitment initiated at creation is not equivalent to saying that this is a covenant renewal” (160). This is like making a covenant to keep a covenant (390). It would appear then, that the Noahic covenant is not merely Adam’s covenant redux but rather its own covenant and that hēqîm bĕrît can indeed mean kārat bĕrît but within the context of a previous covenant.

The examples of hēqîm bĕrît which Gentry and Wellum kindly provide in an appendix (733-36) demonstrate more nuance and diversity than consistent usage. The first four uses of this construction occur in Genesis 6 and 9. These instances represent the actual making and initiating of a distinct covenant, though most certainly in light of a previous covenant. In Genesis 6:18 God clearly says that he “will establish” his covenant with Noah, and in Genesis 9:9-10 God makes good on that promise and says “Behold, I establish my covenant with you and your offspring after you, and with every living creature that is with you, the birds, the livestock, and every beast of the earth with you, as many as came out of the ark; it is for every beast of the earth.” God has just initiated a covenant with distinct parties from those at creation. Surely, this covenant is made in light of the covenant made in creation and Gentry and Wellum are right to note that Noah receives “Adam’s mandate, modified somewhat to suit the circumstances of a fallen world,” (165) yet that does not remove this from being the initiation of a distinct covenant. An interesting addition of evidence is that the Septuagint, which consistently translates hēqîm bĕrît with isthmi or anisthmi diaqhkh, translates “hēqîm bĕrît” in Genesis 9:17 with “diatiqhmi diaqhkhn” which is the ubiquitous way of translating kārat bĕrît.⁶ Thus, when God says that the rainbow is the sign of the covenant which he “established” with all flesh, the Septuagint treats it as having been “covenanted” and not just “upheld.” Thus, hēqîm bĕrît can refer to initiation of a covenant, but in light of another covenant.

Gentry and Wellum summarize the argument:

In summary, based on the expression hēqîm bĕrît, linguistic usage alone demonstrates that when God says that he is confirming or establishing his covenant with Noah, he is saying that his commitment initiated previously at creation…including the blessings and ordinances that he gave to Adam and Eve and their family, are now to be with Noah and his descendants. (161)

Linguistic usage alone is insufficient. We must consider the context of each use of this phrase. If this covenant is its own covenant, as the text indicates by its distinct parties and promises, then hēqîm bĕrît can refer to the initiation of a covenant. Even if every instance after Genesis 6-9 used hēqîm bĕrît in a consistent fashion (as it does not), that linguistic usage would not be a final determination of its use here. Within its natural meanings, hēqîm can refer to setting something up and holding something up. Gentry and Wellum argue that setting up is restricted to structural objects while holding something up is restricted to oaths, promises, words, covenants, etc. (159). However, given that hēqîm can mean to set up, and given the contextual factors of Genesis 6-9 (and Ezekiel 16), those lines should not be drawn quite so rigidly. God may set up a covenant, and later the parties will speak of holding it up according to their peculiar commitments.

The main reason for emphasizing this disagreement, albeit small, is to preserve the distinct identity and nature of the covenant of works and the Noahic covenant. There is no dispute that the two are closely related. But Gentry and Wellum’s narrowing of hēqîm bĕrît seems to preemptively delimit the nature of the covenant with Adam before arriving at its exegesis. If Noah’s covenant is a covenant of refracted world government, then Adam’s covenant was a pre-fall covenant of world government. Surely there is truth there. But if Adam’s covenant was a covenant of works for eternal life, then a covenant of providentially sustained government is a somewhat different creature. For all the argumentation, the disagreement is small.

Briefly, the arguments concerning the law need to be addressed. A repeated emphasis of this book is that Torah refers to instruction rather than law. This is partly argued by contrast to ancient Near Eastern law-codes. But just because the law of Moses is unlike the law-codes of pagan nations, it does not mean that it does not bear a legal character. The nature of the law is different because it comes from a perfectly holy and just Lawgiver whose magnificent law reveals his magnificent character. And it is hard to accept the name of “instruction” attached to the Mosaic law when the violation of this “instruction” comes in a very penal and maledictory fashion (Deut. 27-28).

One of the reasons for viewing the law as “the law” bearing a very “legal” character comes from Paul’s description of it in Galatians 3-4, yet Galatians 3-4 receives no treatment in the chapter on the Mosaic covenant. Galatians 3:24-25 is briefly mentioned to describe the contrast between God’s people in their youth and maturity, but that is all (340). When Paul describes the law as that which curses the one who does not perform its dictates (Gal. 3:10), “instruction” sounds a bit tame.