PART I, ARTICLE VII: THE CASTAWAY SCARE IN FIRST CORINTHIANS, SECTION IV

Proximate Context

This thesis becomes most convincing as we lean in to consider the context more closely. Again, the verse being considered and exposited is: “But I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection: lest that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway” (1 Corinthians 9.27.) The verse right before it is: “I therefore so run, not as uncertainly; so fight I, not as one that beateth the air.” This illustration to describe the apostle’s evangelistic work ethic highlights his goal of persevering until the end lest glory be not entered into at last. The runner runs that he may obtain the prize. But if he runs unworthily, he is disqualified, rejected, reprobate, cast away. Not only does he not win the prize, regardless of what that is, but he does not cross the finish line, or at least, if he does cross, it is of no account—he is disqualified. That is the natural trend of this figure of speech that is used. Matthew Poole sees it my way; John Gill does not. Two other commentators who agree with me are A. C. Gaebelein, and George Eldon Ladd in A Theology of the New Testament. Concerning the passage in question, Ladd says this, “The crown he hopes to win at the end of the race is the crown of life—the eschatological gift of God.” On the verse in particular he says, “It is difficult to avoid the conclusion that he is thinking of the possible failure to reach the goal of the Christian life.” Ladd’s deduction is identical to the fruit of my exposition, which I harvested before resorting to commentaries, lending credibility to my case. But notice the hesitancy in those words of his, “It is difficult to avoid the conclusion.” It sounds like he would rather not terminate as he did. Why shrink from the obvious? Why be tempted to resist an uncomfortable conclusion? While studying Scripture, the student should invariably be in utrumque paratus (ready for both of two possibilities.) He should be ready to have his preconceived notion confirmed, but just as ready to have it exploded. And he should receive any new truth without reservation or regret. To not be of this ready mind is to be sinfully resistant, and to be partially open to delusion. We may be tempted to draw back from the common sense interpretation of this text because we are not well equipped to handle what the apostle says. But it is not up to us to soften the blow of Scripture. We do not need to be scared of the full force of what is professed in 1 Corinthians 9.27: sanctification and industry, or else. A commentator might be afraid of the conclusion because he does not know how it might be squared with the orthodox belief that a Christian cannot become an infidel. Or he might be tempted to resist the conclusion because strict mortification is often confused with the heresies of asceticism and penance. But mortification does not mean whipping yourself on the back with knotted ropes. A method of mortification might be to exercise ‘bowels of mercies, kindness, meekness,’ and so on, in order to avoid ‘fornication, evil concupiscence,’ and so on (Colossians 3.5.) It is mortifying to serve. We are prone to explain away the looming castaway scare of 1 Corinthians 9.27 because we do not know how to take it in light of the doctrine that a Christian will persevere until the end and be saved at last. But see the matter in light of the apostle’s frame of mind. He trembles because he has in mind thoughts like, “My brethren, be not many masters, knowing that we shall receive the greater condemnation” (James 3.1.) The apostle Paul surely thought along this line, regardless of his familiarity or not with these words of James. Indeed, the verse reminds us of his fear of being cast away. He must have had the words of Jesus in his mind as he went about to discharge his ministry: “Great things he must suffer for my name’s sake” (Acts 9.16.) And so he reasons that the least hint of impropriety or sloth might mean that he will suffer to a bad end, not a good one. Part of our suffering is to suffer the death of ourselves, as it were, which is to keep under the body, lest we should be cast away. Keeping under the body; that is to say, under control and subdued, is the negative half of sanctification, which the Bible calls, mortification. We should labor to see into the mind of the apostle a little. His musing, I doubt not, went something like this: “If I don’t maintain the highest standard, I will be a castaway. I will discover that the preacher who won souls, lost his own, and that Saul never became Paul, after all. I will have stayed a Pharisee, just like I was when consenting to the death of Stephen. It will then be true that he who labored the most was the chief of sinners but never an apostle, much less a notable one; it will be said that the light from the sky was not the Lord Jesus, only superstition; and the apostles will be vindicated for avoiding me in the beginning like they did. If I do not persevere, this will be my epitaph.” We have something akin to this mindset going on in 9.23-27 of his first epistle to the Corinthians. As we come to grips with the context and think about what this apostle’s frame of mind must have been, we come face to face with the fact that a professing Christian with a less than mortified lifestyle may be cast away in the end. The apostle’s psychology is not just an experience of doubt, but a doctrine also. The Holy Spirit ministers the truth through the apostle’s experience; and, in light of supporting verses, the apostle’s experience is also a doctrine. The doctrine is that perseverance is prosecuted from a state of grace, which state does not preclude a fear of perdition. Who is saved by Christ? Only the trembling saint who perseveres. That is the experience, the doctrine, and the outcome. 

Immediately preceding the passage and verse is Saint Paul’s defense of his apostleship. He compares his single-minded conduct in the pursuit of souls to that of an athlete competing as if his life depends on it. And so the verse, “But I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection: lest that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway.” The evangelist must be all things to all people: ‘to them that are without law, as without law,’ &c. (verse 21.) Like the boxer who observes a strict diet and narrow parameters just before the fight, he must be in shape to meet every circumstance. He is no athlete who will not do this to win; he is no evangelist who will not be mortified for the sake of winning souls. A man is bound to make a mistake or be disqualified from his competition if he is not in tip-top form. We that are not apostles, nor missionaries, ought nevertheless to question ourselves as the apostle did, and be self-critical. The Holy Ghost will convince us of sin; we need to search ourselves, and not quench. The devil will accuse us of sin; we need to answer with Scripture, and make our behavior prop our profession to make our calling known. Paul the apostle lived up to his calling perhaps more than any other apostle did his own. But his position and experience were that salvation itself should not be doubtlessly presumed even when a high measure of obedience to the Lord can be demonstrated; and he felt this in the bowels of his being. What follows 1 Corinthians 9.27 is an example from history of what the apostle stated could be his own case if he did not keep under his body. 

“Moreover, brethren, I would not that ye should be ignorant, how that all our fathers were under the cloud, and all passed through the sea; and were all baptized unto Moses in the cloud and in the sea; and did all eat the same spiritual meat; and did all drink the same spiritual drink: for they drank of that spiritual Rock that followed them: and that Rock was Christ. But with many of them God was not well pleased: for they were overthrown in the wilderness. Now these things were our examples, to the intent we should not lust after evil things, as they also lusted. Neither be ye idolaters, as some of them; as it is written, the people sat down to eat and drink, and rose up to play. Neither let us commit fornication, as some of them committed, and fell in one day three and twenty thousand. Neither let us tempt Christ, as some of them also tempted, and were destroyed of serpents. Neither murmur ye, as some of them also murmured, and were destroyed of the destroyer. Now all these things happened unto them for ensamples: and they are written for our admonition, upon whom the ends of the world are come. Wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall” (1 Corinthians 10.1-12.)

Rather than be ‘temperate in all things’ to obtain the crown (9.25), the Old Testament children of Israel committed idolatry, lusted, murmured, and fornicated, and ‘were overthrown in the wilderness’ (10.5.) A striking show of this intemperance was their eating of quails in Numbers 11. They stuffed that meat into their mouths without any more thought of giving thanks than the average North American as he eats his fries on his way from the counter to his seat at McDonald’s. The Israelites could use the excuse of being sick of eating manna; we have no excuse. Thoughtless unrestraint is the mark of unbelief. This kind of eating is savage gluttony. All eyes are on the blessing, and the blessing is not even considered a blessing. If it were, the blessed God would be acknowledged as the provider. “All our fathers were under the cloud…all baptized unto Moses…did all eat the same spiritual meat; and did all drink the same spiritual drink…But with many of them God was not well pleased: for they were overthrown in the wilderness” (1 Corinthians 10.1-5, emphasis added.) Is this not the meaning of tasting of the heavenly gift and of partaking of the Holy Ghost and then falling away nevertheless? (Hebrews 6.4.) All partook of the same religion, it seems, but many were overthrown. “We see that they could not enter in because of unbelief” (Hebrews 3.19.) A contemporary example of tasting of the heavenly gift and partaking of the Holy Ghost might be the experiencing of divine peace when the Holy Ghost settles down on a prayer group or Bible study. We can be under this blessed cloud without being Christians. There is a kind of eating and drinking that is not true communion. There is a baptism that is not spiritual, but ritual only. Intemperance may lead to stolid unbelief in the end. Those who were overthrown were the intemperate ones; they did not enter the Promised Land. Why should we not be castaways through intemperance? The apostle learned from history that many who think they will cross into heaven will not go there; so he kept under his body; and this doctrine of godly mortification is what he taught. “Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life” is not an ultimatum that is limited to the members of the church in Smyrna. We might not have to put our faith on display before executioners. But we are called to live faithfully until we die. 

PART I, ARTICLE VII: THE CASTAWAY SCARE IN FIRST CORINTHIANS, SECTION III

Peripheral Context

That was my first proof: word definition. Phrases used elsewhere, including the context broadly, prove, beyond doubt, that a fear of being cast away is an apostolic experience, not just a novel idea. The apostle’s preaching to the Corinthians was ‘in much trembling’ (1 Corinthians 2.3.) Comparing this to 9.27, it is not difficult to see the association. A man who feels the full weight of his responsibility to convey the message of salvation to others will judge his own profession of faith in light of how well he executes his task. The apostle eyed his salvation relative to the faithful execution of his ministry. “This I do for the gospel’s sake,” he says, “that I might be partaker thereof with you” (9.23.) That he will partake of what? ‘Thereof,’ that is, of the gospel, which means: of the merits of our Lord’s obedience and death: of that by which we may be saved. Then comes his communication in verse 27: “But I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection: lest that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway.” In other words, he tells himself, as he tells the church, that there can be no salvation without a mortified life and a faithful work ethic. That is what these verses teach. He prosecuted his ministry in a trembling spirit. That he was holy enough to take it that seriously means that he must have been mortified in every department of his life. His ministry was mortified because his whole life was temperate. Worldliness had no access by which to water him down. That he had a trembling ministry means that he was not chummy and conversational with his congregations. It means that he did not strut across a platform with his chest puffed out and his thumbs under his belt. He preached Christ crucified with much fear. He did not prate feel-good stories and jokes. He did not exhibit a vain show. He feared God; he was afraid. He was determined to do nothing by which he could suspect his faith to be merely nominal.    

This doctrine of fear is for the church too, not just for the apostle, and not only for ministers. He instructs the Philippians to work out ‘salvation with fear and trembling’ (2.12.) He exhorts them to practice nothing less than what he did for the faithful prosecution of his preaching ministry. “Necessity is laid upon me,” he says. “Woe is unto me, if I preach not the gospel!” (1 Corinthians 9.16.) Who preaches today as if some necessity is laid upon him by the Lord? If pastors feel no necessity, it must be because they fear God only little, if at all. If they have no doubts or fears, it must be because they are smugly assured. Because he feared God, the apostle did not aim to produce a sensation from his preaching; his aim was to have his preaching attended with power from on high: “That your faith should not stand in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God” (2.5.) He endured “all things for the elect’s sakes, that they may also obtain the salvation” (2 Timothy 2.10.) 

Necessity, fear, trembling, woe—why such frightful, fateful words? How come was he so terribly serious? Was it because he feared to lose some of his rewards? No, but because he feared the loss of his soul. He subdued his fleshly appetites because the Christian who does not, and especially the preacher who fails in this, feels threatened with, “I myself should be a castaway.” This fear is the work of the Holy Spirit; the Holy Ghost does more than assure and comfort. When it isn’t the devil doing it, it is the Spirit’s work on the conscience that causes doubts to be kicked up. The Spirit assures; but he also convicts; he makes demands. But how could an apostle, who believed his salvation was assured, as is evident through the whole of Romans 8, and who had such precious visitations of the Spirit, speak of being a potential castaway? In the realm of spiritual experience, a sense of obligation will be as intense as one’s sense of being accepted. Such is the gravity of devotion that one cannot contemplate the possibility of a substandard ministry without doubting the conversion that underlies the calling. The devout spirit feels the least exertion of the flesh. When the flesh exerts itself, therefore, the devout spirit recoils, examines itself, accuses itself, and entertains a doubt. Then the Christian gets right back to prosecuting his mission in earnest, once more acutely conscious of the fact that “no whoremonger, nor unclean person, nor covetous man, who is an idolater, hath any inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and of God” (Ephesians 5.5.) A holy doubt, whether it be a recurring scruple, an intermittent suspense, or a lingering influence, is a good thing, and it should not be pretended away or rationalized to mean something else. This kind of doubt is a holy thing; it helps to protect the child of God from sinning, thus aiding him to go on toward perfection. The unbelieving professor or false minister, contrariwise, will not brood on a doubt because he is not holy. Instead, he will give in to the flesh and be proud of whatever moral progress he thinks to be making. Fear of being cast away is a wonderful safeguard; it is a heavenly pressure. And because it is biblical, it is in harmony with the frequent appeals in Scripture to self-examine. “Examine yourselves, whether ye be in the faith” (2 Corinthians 13.5.) There is such a thing as vain faith (1 Thessalonians 3.5.) In one of the principal passages that we look to for joy in the prospect of rewards to come, our acceptance is hung on the hinge of our faithful labor. “We labour, that…we may be accepted of him” (2 Corinthians 5.9, emphasis added.) Not just labor to make sure that we will be rewarded for our deeds, but labor as though our acceptance relies on those deeds. We are not saved by deeds, but our deeds must be of the kind, temper, character, and quality that proceed from a faithful, grace-filled life. We should press on and labor in reverent fear. “Knowing therefore the terror of the Lord, we persuade men” (verse 11.) Conformity to God’s moral law is a mark of grace. Jonathan Edwards would perhaps say that it is not a sure mark—not a certain proof of a person being a Christian. But still, no person is a Christian without it. That we are under grace does not mean that the law is not a threat, only that we are no longer cursed. The law is no longer a terror to persons believing in Christ, but it may still be a threat that says: if no evidence of faith is found, the law was never fulfilled for you in particular, and its curse was never borne on your behalf. To be God’s worker is to have orthodox beliefs, right thoughts, and good conduct. This must be proven, or else why do warnings so often come in? If we should ‘receive not the grace of God in vain’ (2 Corinthians 6.1), then there must be a sense in which we may receive God’s grace amiss. That is what the apostle touches on in his letter to the Philippians. He counts all things loss that he may win Christ, “and be found in him, not having mine own righteousness, which is of the law, but that which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith” (Philippians 3.9.) There is no righteousness by the law; that is his point. This is a matter of perseverance in the state of grace, but also of holy fear as some kind of engine, or motivating factor. Better still, if perseverance is the engine, fear of being cast away is a whistle warning the soul to persevere, to shovel in the coal for a full steam ahead. Had the apostle not already won Christ? He speaks as if he ‘may’ win Christ in verse 8. Christ is never taken for granted, no matter how great the apostle’s faith, no matter how much he has suffered for preaching the gospel, no matter how many churches he has planted, no matter how many disciples he has made, no matter how much labor he has accomplished, no matter how many visions he has had, and no matter how close to his dissolution and victory he may be. The letter to the Philippians is one of the last ones that he wrote. Yet after all his years of service and after the attainment of great faith, he strives toward the light from under the penumbra of doubt, which penumbra attends his ministry just as the star of Bethlehem assisted the Magi. A ‘penumbra’ is the outer part of a shadow; our fear of being cast away comes from the outer part of our remaining corruption—from what remains, after regeneration, of the pollution of our flesh and the corruption of our nature. This is why the apostle says things like: “If by any means I might attain unto the resurrection of the dead” (verse 11.) He is aiming, even at this late stage of his faith and life, to be found, at last, resurrected unto life everlasting. This is the meaning. He is apprehended of Christ Jesus; but he does not count himself to have apprehended (verse 12.) He strives after what he hopes to have obtained by faith. Doubts and fears nip at his heels; he does not assume that all is won, much less Christ. That is part of his theology, regardless of what he believes concerning the power of God to keep him saved, and the divine promise that this power will be extended. The question is, “Is the person who thinks he is saved, truly saved?” The apostle did not think that salvation is revocable. He knew, however, that there is such a thing as hypocrisy. The abundance of hypocrites is why doubts concerning the welfare of our soul should never be shrugged off as if our being a hypocrite is not possible. 

We need to subject ourselves to regular examination. We need to prove ourselves with regularity, not once and for all as if we can name-and-claim our salvation. The apostle was assured of his salvation. But, in the knowledge that hypocrites have a counterfeit assurance, he mortified and he persevered, allowing the least doubt that he had, to do its part to push him forward. If he had never had a doubt, he would never have written as he did. If he never had a doubt, such phrases as ‘lest…I myself should be a castaway’ and ‘receive not the grace of God in vain’ are empty words in the word of God, which is oxymoronic and blasphemous. If he did have a doubt, and we understate this doubt, our interpretation is dishonest, misleading, and harmful. By not taking phrases like these at face value—by understating their full force—we devalue the apostle’s experience and doctrine; we deny the fact that we have our own doubts; and, living in denial, we become smug instead of circumspect, perhaps all the way to hell. Many persons who are too proud of their faith to muse over their doubts, will wish, after it is too late, that they had done so; many others who think that they stand only to lose rewards will suffer the loss of their souls because they were not taught, and did not believe nor practice, perseverance unto salvation. Fear of being cast away is a sentinel against damnation by self-deceit. 

PART I, ARTICLE VII: THE CASTAWAY SCARE IN FIRST CORINTHIANS, SECTION II

Word Definition

‘Lest…I myself should be a castaway.’ What does this mean? The word translated ‘castaway’ is the same word that is rendered ‘rejected’ in, “But that which beareth thorns and briers is rejected, and is nigh unto cursing; whose end is to be burned” (Hebrews 6.8.) It is the bearer of thorns and briars who is rejected: he who ‘falls away’ (verse 6.) The idea conveyed is the same one that comes in at the end of 1 Corinthians 9. It is the apostle, then, who should be a castaway, not just his works, and not just his rewards for his works, if he does not keep under his body. The possibility that a professing disciple be found a castaway should remind us of what Jesus spake in his great Sermon on the Mount: “Every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire” (Matthew 7.19.) Not only is the fruit rejected, but the tree is destroyed. “By their fruits ye shall know them” (verse 20.) The tree signifies the person; that person not bearing good fruit will be cast into the fire. A corrupted, rotten harvest will not be accepted, nor the tree that yields it; bad fruit is the kind that is produced by persons who do not keep under their body. John the Baptist singled out the Pharisees and Sadducees when he snarled, “Therefore every tree which bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire” (Matthew 3.10.) 

The Lord, the Baptist, and the Apostle, therefore, agree as one. That is a scary concurrence for loose livers to discover—hopefully scary enough to encourage temperance in all things, and avoidance of cardinal sins like fornication and idolatry. We have bigger worries from being disobedient than losing a few presents at the throne. The situation is perhaps graver than we think, for we tend to minimize biblical warnings. A runner cannot win a race on a diet of sugar; we cannot get to heaven on a lifestyle of sin. The race to heaven is the race of races; it is the only race of eternal consequence that we will ever run. The fire that the castaway will be turned into is an eternal one. Again, concerning this word ‘castaway’—: It is the same word as ‘reprobate’ in, “God gave them over to a reprobate mind” (Romans 1.28.) These reprobates, “knowing the judgment of God…are worthy of death” (verse 32.) There is a kind of reprobate who is ‘reprobate concerning the faith’ (2 Timothy 3.8.) There is another who is ‘unto every good work reprobate’ (Titus 1.16.) The apostle Paul expresses the following reservation: ‘except ye be reprobates’ (2 Corinthians 13.5) Works, rewards—these are never reprobate. The word concerns persons. To be reprobate is to be condemned and rejected by God: to be cast away. The antithesis of this word and curse is to be ‘approved,’ as in ‘approved in Christ’ (Romans 16.10) or ‘approved unto God’ (2 Timothy 2.15.) 

Finally, follow the natural flow of that word ‘castaway,’ taken all by itself, in the nautical sense. The castaway is adrift. He missed the rescue boat. He goes down to destruction. He did not just lose his baggage. He himself is lost. As far as our text is concerned, ‘castaway’ does not mean a saved man who falls overboard. And it does not mean a saved man who lost his baggage, or works. The castaway is a lost man who never gets rescued. The wreck happened in Adam’s sin; and all his descendents are castaways; they need to be saved; and many are not, though in the delirium of drowning they might think they are. At the end of the age, the castaway calls out, ‘Lord, Lord.’ The only reply is, ‘I never knew you.’ There is such a thing as being too sure about the state of one’s soul. To be humble enough to admit a doubt is wise, biblical, and apostolic.

PART I, ARTICLE VII: THE CASTAWAY SCARE IN FIRST CORINTHIANS, SECTION I

 

A recurring realization that I have is how lightly the Christian Faith is taken by so many persons among us who call themselves Christians. It used to be that Christians could not be assured of salvation except through a series of sermons or pastoral sessions. Now it is rare to meet a professing Christian who doesn’t claim complete assurance of his saving state. This danger got to bothering me so much that I began to keep an eye on the subject during my reading and studies. This article is the fruit of that. 

“But I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection: lest that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway” (1 Corinthians 9.27.)

A strong sense of duty will be accompanied by a principle of doubt concerning our works or character yielding evidence of saving faith, for we can never do enough nor be holy enough for him who died for us. We should expect to be accepted only if we do what God commands the accepted to do. Even were we to come up to as high a level as the apostle Paul, and maybe because of this attainment, a doubt concerning our security would exist. It is the Holy Spirit who threatens our sense of acceptation as he presses upon the Christian conscience the need to run into that very kingdom that has been planted in the heart. He does not cause doubt directly, but indirectly as we are made sensitive to our duty. The title for the verse above could be, The Christian’s Fear of God; or it could be, The Perseverance of the Saints. But these titles are not specific enough to address the suspense in the words, ‘lest…I myself should be a castaway.’ The apostle’s experience is that salvation, or his claim to it, is suspended on the hook of how well he does his work and how mortified he is to self and sin. We are not propelled to heaven on the steam of a languid life. Those who think they can be, or will be, are at special hazard of being falsely assured of where they are going. We persevere toward what has been procured for us by Christ. We fight to lay hold on that eternal life which was gifted to us when we believed (1 Timothy 6.12.) We are beseeched to not receive the grace of God in vain (2 Corinthians 6.1.) Both of these verses, in line with the text at the top, admonish us to prove ourselves by being sanctified. We do this by resisting sin and by walking in truth. And so: “The gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord” (Romans 6.23); but “receive not the grace of God in vain” (2 Corinthians 6.1) and “lay hold on eternal life” (1 Timothy 6.12.) The apostle Paul feared that he ‘should be a castaway.’ This is another way of saying that he was scared of being cast away. As T. S. Eliot observes in the first sections of Pascal’s Pensees, ‘the demon of doubt’ is inseparable from ‘the spirit of belief’ (Blaise Pascal, Pensees, p. xv.)  

Verses 22 to 26 of 1 Corinthians 9 read as follows: “To the weak became I as weak, that I might gain the weak: I am made all things to all men, that I might by all means save some. And this I do for the gospel’s sake, that I might be partaker thereof with you. Know ye not that they which run in a race run all, but one receiveth the prize? So run, that ye may obtain. And every man that striveth for the mastery is temperate in all things. Now they do it to obtain a corruptible crown; but we an incorruptible. I therefore so run, not as uncertainly; so fight I, not as one that beateth the air.”

The apostle’s drift in these verses—in these verses leading up to his final one in chapter nine—is a lesson on perseverance. The Christian is like the athlete in a sporting contest, whether running or boxing, striving to obtain the crown of victory. This crown is the crown of life, the imperishable crown. The Lord is the trainer; the Christian is the athlete. The athlete has been purchased from the slums, as it were. Both his person and rights are owned. The crown is in the Lord’s possession, to be presented to the rigorously trained athlete upon completion of the event. In verse 27, it is stated that the athlete keeps his body subdued because he fears being disqualified, or cast away: “But I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection: lest that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway.” The picture is given as a parallel to the Christian life. The Christian who is not mortified and motivated ought to fear disqualification from obtaining the spiritual crown (of eternal life), just as the Olympic competitor should fear disqualification for his lack of discipline. Recent Bible scholars avoid this interpretation. The definition of that word ‘castaway’ scares them. They think they might have a heresy on their hands if they take the apostle Paul seriously. Charles Ryrie says that this is a ‘reference to the possible loss of reward.’ C. I. Scofield believes the same. An old commentary that I have from 1880 (usually precious) intimates that the apostle could have fallen from grace, which is, I suppose, the false teaching that Ryrie and Scofield, by their understatement, are determined to dodge. A more honest treatment of the text constrains us to maintain that the apostle teaches that the Christian who does not subdue his carnal desires has just cause and good reason to doubt his salvation and that it is hazardous to his soul not to be of this mind. Paul’s message is not that he keeps his body disciplined for fear of losing rewards. His message is that he keeps under his body because he knows that intemperance (verse 25) is the mark of an infidel. There is a material difference between these two interpretations. The one which is correct is obvious from a fair treatment of the text. Which interpretation the professing Christian receives can mean more than a marginal difference, both in this life and hereafter. We should bear in mind that the apostle was addressing Corinthian converts, many of whom were courting carnal behavior. The possibility of being a castaway is the fair interpretation, and it is not an inconsequential one. Believing this interpretation may lead to salvation from being falsely assured; and this belief, at the least, should serve as a spur to both morality and ministry, and an aid to laying up treasures in heaven. The faithful interpretation of a text is the word of God explained and amplified—what the Puritans used to call ‘improved.’ It is not merely a design to make people behave. Salvation should be reckoned doubtful when disciples are immoral or when ministers are less than blameless in ministry; in the apostle’s case, such a doubt hangs in the air at the mere thought of a second-rate performance. We could, like Ryrie and Scofield do, attempt to instill a sense of duty by warning that rewards may be lost if the body is not kept under. If we take the text at face value, however, and give it the interpretation that it calls for, the incentive to prove ourselves is driven by an actual risk of being cast away; and then a sense of duty to persevere ought to follow. Some Christians would never risk going against what Ryrie and Scofield say. I used to fear the impulse of doing so myself. As far as scholars go, however, these two men are bantams, not heavyweights. 

I will prove my interpretation in three ways: by the definition of words, by the peripheral context, and by the proximate context. There is good reason to believe that even an apostle was scared of being cast away; and we have good reason to be glad that he had that scruple.

PART I, ARTICLE VI: THE SYMBOL OF POWER IN THE CHURCHES OF GOD, SECTION X

This Custom is Contested by no Other Church

The Corinthian church alone contested the symbol of power. “But if any man seem to be contentious, we have no such custom, neither the churches of God” (verse 16.) Those who look for a way around the ordinance often cast their eyes here for an escape. They bash the KJV for its old English; but they are positively wild about it here because of its peculiar diction and syntax. They try to suppose that Paul, who wrote ‘the commandments of the Lord’ (14.37), is now repealing all of his anterior arguments in order to accommodate a contentious temperament. Happy with this preposterous interpretation are contentious Christians who will be convinced by no argument, even one that says Paul would never prove the keeping of a tradition by brilliant argumentation, only to dismiss, in the last verse, the tradition that he labored to prove. At first glance the KJV seems to allow contentious Christians to never mind the tradition. But the definition of the word ‘custom’ proves that Paul is doing the opposite: pressuring the contentious to obey. ‘Ordinances’ in verse 2 means ‘traditions,’ while ‘custom’ in verse 16 means ‘mutual habituation,’ the entertaining of a moral or immoral habit. The same word is used in John 18.39 to identify another bad habit. Paul uses the Greek word translated ‘custom’ here in 1 Corinthians 11.16 to distinguish it from ‘ordinances’ in verse 2. Therefore, ‘we have no such custom’ does not mean ‘we have no such ordinance, or tradition.’ It means, ‘we have no such bad habit.’ And so the sense of the verse is, “But if any man seem to be contentious, we have no such bad habit of being contentious, and neither do the churches of God.” The teaching is that Christians not in the habit to contend do not contest the tradition. The church at Corinth is being encouraged by peer pressure to imitate the other churches of God. The substance of verse 16, in modern translations, is, “We have no tradition other than the one just delivered.” This is surprising and good, given their liberal tendencies, for this interpretation at least admits that the tradition is not, at this place, left to one’s personal judgment.  But the more precise sense may be gleaned by a diligent study of words, as I have somewhat shown. The liberal sense of the verse is, “We do not necessarily hold to this tradition.” That this is wrong is plain, if only from the fact that this would mean that the apostle is granting an exemption to Christians who wish to be contentious.

The scope of the tradition is known by the word ‘churches.’ Paul’s frequent use of this word—fourteen times in his two epistles to this one church—conveys the universality of his orders. The symbol of power is meant for the churches of God then and now: them and us. No time limit is set down; it is for every church always. Even when he uses the word ‘church,’ he often means every church. The tradition, or ordinance, is one of Paul’s ‘ways which be in Christ, as I teach every where in every church’ (4.17.) And notice that he addresses the men: ‘if any man seem to be contentious.’ He addresses the men; it is for them to enforce what the apostle has laid down, and to not be prevailed upon, or dominated, by women. There is little point in arguing with contentious women about the validity of Scripture. Paul knew that; and so he closes what he has to say on the matter by addressing the men. They have the mandate from God to be in charge and to take charge. The men are the principal ones to be confronted; the women are to be corrected and taught. Our churches are populated with chicken-hearted, henpecked men—weak men who are in cahoots with contentious women. They need to strengthen their weakened knees, for they are obliged to enforce the symbol of power. They are duty-bound to know it, to teach it, and to make sure that it is carried out. Militant feminism is in the visible church. This is abhorrent to members of the militant church, who, thankfully, upon becoming members of the church triumphant, will be separated forever, as wheat from chaff, from militant feminists and hypocrites generally. Weak-kneed pastors should remind themselves of this; they should be strengthened by the prophecy that all chaff will soon be driven away forever (Psalm 1.4.)  

Most men no doubt believe that they uncover their heads in church for no better reason than that a man is supposed to do it upon entering a room, like a library or a café, for example. But this is not a matter of etiquette; it is a matter of authority and glory. If a man uncovers his head for the right reason in church, and beside him sits a woman who has her head bare, he is dishonored, and the tradition, and therefore God, is disobeyed. If a man refuses to uncover his head in church, he is no more at fault than a woman who refuses to cover hers. Because churchgoers are ignorant, though, the covered man would be upbraided, while all the uncovered women would be let alone. But what about after it is known what this passage of Scripture teaches and requires? Churchgoers who are in the habit of being contentious will not receive the doctrine. But they ought to judge in themselves; that is, we hope, with their enlightened reason, whether or not the custom of debating what the Holy Ghost has written through the Lord’s apostle is holy conduct. 

Why are churches of God powerless today? Has it not got something to do with their disobedience to—even ignorance of—the symbol of power? Will authority proceed from pulpits when something as basic as God’s designated pattern of authority is in disarray? Will a church make mountains move when its faith won’t even heed God’s ladder of authority? How can a church move forward when its members won’t even line up in proper order? What kind of an army is that? ‘Onward Christian soldiers’ indeed! Churches that won’t march at God’s command are contentious; they need to be chastened more than blessed. Blessings must come through chastening when the church’s temperature is lukewarm. “I have no need of this symbol of power!” What is this attitude but the Laodicean claim to be in ‘need of nothing’? (Revelation 3.17.) Churches need what God says they must obey. This passage in 1 Corinthians on the symbol of power is so minutely explained by God’s apostle that it may be understood, I think, better than it was understood by Aaron that he had to wear a bonnet on his head during holy ministrations. He didn’t question the need of that; we should not question our need of this.  

In this marvelous, though neglected and even hated, passage of Scripture, the apostle has argued from the present to the past, delving back in time a little farther with each argument. He began with culture in verse 6, receded to the creative order of man and woman midway, then back still more to angels in verse 10. By verse 13 he was all the way back to reason, and challenged the Corinthians to use that to judge whether or not his position on this matter conformed to human nature (verses 14, 15.) The only argument we should need is the one in verse 13, the one that appeals to common sense: “Judge in yourselves” (verse 13.) By reason alone we should know that it is proper for a woman to wear long hair and that this hair is given to her as a glorious covering. From this common sense knowledge it should be easy to see that the veil is as spiritual as the woman’s hair is natural. The apostle’s arguments from creation, angelology, nature generally, and reason particularly, collapse the house that heretics have built on the foundation of culture. The symbol of power may not be dismissed on the basis that it is passé. If the matter were confined to first century culture, there would be no reason for the arguments that are used, and there would be no reason for the Holy Ghost to include the passage in the New Testament. 

One cannot go farther back than Saint Paul did in support of what he was moved by the Holy Ghost to commission. He argued in the sequence that he did in order to stack his arguments up in the most convincing manner possible. His main arguments for the maintenance of the tradition are not limited to culture nor epoch, for man is still made in the image and glory of God, the natural order still obtains, angels still exist and observe, nature still teaches, and human reason still informs us of what is proper. What is fundamental to each argument is the fact that the hierarchy established by God has not changed: God, Christ, man, woman. Until it changes, the symbol of power should be in effect. The apostle’s intention was to cement the tradition in the churches of God until the end of the age. There are great themes in this passage: honor, glory, equality. But the main theme is authority. Will the churches of God submit to their Almighty Father by respecting his order of authority? By having ‘power on her head,’ God’s authority design is honored, his glory is exposed and uplifted without rival, the angels are not offended but taught, and the churches of God are humbly bowed before the God that they owe adoration to. “In the sculptures of the catacombs the women have a close-fitting head-dress, while the men have the hair short” (Marvin Vincent.) This is the picture that the first half of 1 Corinthians aims to paint in all the churches of God.

PART I, ARTICLE VI: THE SYMBOL OF POWER IN THE CHURCHES OF GOD, SECTION IX

The Custom is Consonant with Nature

After asserting the codependence of man and woman in order to guard his teaching from being taken advantage of against women, the apostle takes up his next argument. Verse 13: “Judge in yourselves: is it comely that a woman pray unto God uncovered?” The woman is naturally more modest than man. It is natural for her to assume an appearance and mien of subjection. A haughty woman is more naturally repellent than a proud man because she was specially created for obeisance. To ‘love, honor, and obey,’ is as natural a formula for the woman to vow as it is biblical. In worship, it is the homely woman who is the most comely. The compliant woman is best, and the shamefaced woman most pretty. This verse appeals to reason also—even by itself considered: “Judge in yourselves.” Reason is part of human nature; therefore I will not set it apart as a point on its own, though I will remark on it later. 

This argument continues in the two verses following. Verses 14, 15: “Doth not even nature itself teach you, that, if a man have long hair, it is a shame unto him? But if a woman have long hair, it is a glory to her: for her hair is given her for a covering.” So here a contrast is given to strengthen the argument from nature. That her hair in verse 15 is not the only covering that woman needs in church is proven by the fact that verse 6 would involve a redundancy if this were the case. Look at verse 6 for a minute: “For if the woman be not covered, let her also be shorn: but if it be shame for a woman to be shorn or shaven, let her be covered.” If ‘covered’ referred to hair in verse 6, the communication there would be: if the woman has no hair, then let her be shorn. Moreover, ‘covering’ in verse 15 and ‘covered’ in verse 6 are translated from two different Greek words. Therefore there are two coverings spoken of in the text: woman’s hair in verse 15, and her veil in verse 6. According to the definitions of these two words, the woman’s long hair in verse 15 covers the head ‘wholly,’ while the covering in verse 6 is a ‘mantle.’ So the teaching of 1 Corinthians 11.2-16 essentially is that a woman’s head should be mantled in worship. I point out the distinction because some do argue that the only covering spoken of in the text is the hair on a woman’s head. In reality, there is a natural veil, and there is a symbolical veil. The woman’s natural covering exemplifies the one that she should wear in church. And consonant with the short hair of man is his uncovered head. Images on the walls of catacombs feature men with short hair. It is natural for a woman to nurse her hair. But it is unnatural for a man to be preoccupied with his own. By doing so, he may bring discrimination upon himself. Because of his long hair, an employer might not hire him; and if he is hired he risks being mocked. “It is a shame unto him” (1 Corinthians 11.14.) Imagine the man who grows his hair long. There he is, caught in inclement weather, and soon reduced to embarrassment as the wind lashes his ungodly mane against his face and into his eyes. Have we all not witnessed this? The wind and rain put his hair in a tangle, and he goes home looking like a castaway and smelling like a mongrel. But imagine a woman caught in the same storm. The wind and rain come down upon her, tussling and frizzing her hair, serving only to render her more enticing, and she goes home looking like the ‘rose of Sharon’ and smelling like the ‘vineyards of Engedi.’ Long hair is glorious on woman, but odious on man. A woman’s natural covering looks fair in public; her veil is seemly in worship. 

It should seem as natural for a woman to be veiled in church as it is to have her hair for a covering of glory. She has glory on her head naturally: her long hair; she should have power on her head spiritually: her veil. She has a covering on her head in private: her long hair. She should have this covered in public worship because both her glory (her hair) and man’s glory (the woman) must be covered in order for God’s glory (the man) to be without rival in the church. 

Some women do not value long hair. Others who wear their hair long would never consider it their glory. But generally speaking—almost universally speaking—women obsess about their hair. If this were not true, a rebellious woman would not shave her head to make a statement. If this were not true, a whole wall would not be set aside in the drugstore to market shampoos and conditioners for every conceivable problem known to afflict women’s hair. If this were not the case, the other side of the aisle would not be set apart to showcase products and contraptions for drying, curling, straightening, platting, piling, growing, coloring, cutting, combing, brushing, and plumping women’s hair. “If a woman have long hair, it is a glory to her; for her hair is given her for a covering.” Even though churchgoing women are supposed to be the meekest women on the face of the earth, many of them—probably most of them—hate this verse passionately, along with the passage that it is couched in. I know this hatred from personal experience, even in connection with a Brethren church that draws one of its ‘distinctives’ from the half-chapter in question. I know how to interpret gnashing of teeth, as in Acts 7.54; and ‘whisperings’ and ‘backbitings,’ as in 2 Corinthians 12.20, on account of this subject. These trespasses are committed by women who think that to obey a New Testament tradition is beneath their stature and bother. No matter how much women hate to admit it, and no matter how much they hate to have the Bible confirm it, they treat their hair as if it were their one and only glory. One of the most lucrative tactics to draw money for cancer ‘research’ is to line bald women up in a commercial. They don’t try this with bald men because men don’t treat their hair like it’s their glory. Well, some of them do, like a friend of mine and our primping prime minister. But exceptions prove the rule. Churchgoing women, as a general rule, do not like to obey anything associated with their gender. Even among those who choose to wear long hair, only few of them would consider their long hair as a mark of obedience or a blessing from God. If shown the verse, most women would wave it off as an outdated thing to read, much less pay attention to. Nevertheless, the verse says that ‘if’ a woman has long hair, it is her glory. 

I have shown the reasons why this passage in 1 Corinthians is not obsolete, but perennially relevant. Here I wish to show some of the supporting evidence in the Bible for the assertion that women should wear their hair long and have themselves a glory to speak of. In first Corinthians (verse 6) it is made plain that it is a shame for a woman’s hair to be shorn or shaved. There is no verse in the Bible that remotely contradicts that statement, while verses in support of its opposite (long hair) are numerous. In the Bible, long hair for women is not only encouraged and insisted on, it is taken as granted. In the book of Revelation the apostle John describes a plague of locusts: “And they had hair as the hair of women, and their teeth were as the teeth of lions” (9.8.) He takes it for granted that people can visualize both the teeth and hair in his figure of speech. If the norm had been for women to wear their hair short, the illustration would make no sense. Long hair is as natural on a woman as fangs are in a lion’s mouth. The LORD often refers to his chosen people as his bride, like in Jeremiah 2.32. Several chapters later (7.29-31) he challenges the kingdom of Judah to cut off her hair and to cast it away as preliminary to a lamentation for having committed idolatry and infanticide. The charge is that Judah has played the harlot; the command is that Judah own up to her sin by, figuratively, shearing her hair. (Harlots were customarily bald or at least had short hair.) It was a shame for a woman to be bald, but glorious for a woman to wear long hair. Otherwise the challenge and charge would not be reasonable. In Ezekiel, Israel is described like so: “I have caused thee to multiply as the bud of the field, and thou hast increased and waxen great, and thou art come to excellent ornaments: thy breasts are fashioned, and thine hair is grown, whereas thou wast naked and bare” (16.7.) Israel is here imagined so beautiful in appearance that she is compared to a woman fully attired with natural splendor. Her obedience should be as attractive as her outward endowments. This is the teaching. No sensible person will assume that this figurative woman is ornamented with hair that is barely grown. The assumption is that a woman has long hair and that her hair forms a large part of her ornamentation. 

Despite what the Bible says about what, by nature, a woman is furnished with, and what, according to God’s word, she should look like, some men, even pastors, are glad to have it some other way. Weak, worldly pastors do not like being around whatever reminds them of their weaknesses and prejudices. I was in a car once with a pastor and his wife when his wife told him that a certain woman in church had cut her long hair off up by her ears. She was almost breathless with glee as she told him the ‘good news.’ When he heard this news from his wife (who wore bobbed hair), his exclamation and smile filled the whole car. When I expressed my disapproval of the news, for to me the news was bad instead of good, they knew why, and they both showed their disdain by changing the subject.    

There are two acts of worship recorded in the New Testament that would be far less moving, because virtually impossible, if the women in question had had short hair. In John 12.3, a certain woman named Mary anoints Jesus’ feet with costly oil and then wipes his feet with her hair. Both Matthew (26.13) and Mark (14.9) record the same account. Obviously, this woman does not wipe the Lord’s feet with hair that is short. In the Bible, feet are typically reckoned as parts of the body needing to be washed. The Lord’s feet, so holy, clean, and pure, deserve to be worshipped in the washing; yea, and wiped with nothing less than the woman’s glory. The second woman is recorded by Luke (chapter 7) to highlight a beautiful exhibition of repentance and forgiveness. As the story goes, this sinful woman, burdened by a sense of her guiltiness before God, cries on the Lord’s feet, thus washing his feet with her tears, which feet she then wipes with her hair, mixing in kisses and fragrant oil. Jesus, moved by this demonstration of contrition, tenderly, and with comforting authority, forgives her sins. She used her tears for water and her hair as a cloth. Without long hair, there had been no cloth, and no opportunity for this woman to submit her glory to its greatest use: worship. 

The Song of Solomon is that part of the Old Testament which is dedicated to the manners of courtship and love between man and woman. Solomon describes his lover like so: “Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves’ eyes within thy locks: thy hair is as a flock of goats, that appear from mount Gilead” (4.1.) Hair that is long enough to obscure the eyes is romantic. A woman should have hair that is long enough to entice from behind her locks; there should be ‘eyes within thy locks.’ A similar compliment drawn from goats occurs in chapter 6. Goats residing on mountains typically flaunt flowing hair. The statement would be ridiculous if a common short-haired goat were taken for the figure. In chapter 7, his lover is praised for having hair ‘like purple’ (verse 5.) The simile denotes two things: the purple hue that emanates from black hair when shone upon by rays of the sun, which is lovely to behold; and the color of royalty, which is meant to remind us of the flowing robe of a monarch. Suppose a woman were to sport a crew-cut. We don’t have to suppose, do we? Many women do nowadays. Does that crew-cut make her look better in the sun? No, it just highlights what appears to be a hairstyle fit for a sailor. Does the sunshine on her hair make her look queenly? No, it makes her look unseemly. While beauty without piety is vain, a woman with short hair looks more piteous than pious. Should a woman look radiant? Or should she appear repugnant? Though she should not glory in her glory, she should at least keep it, nurse it, and thank God for gifting it. Do men find short hair on a woman captivating? If they do, why is it so hard to find a poem about a woman with short hair? Where are the poetic sentiments about that? Where are they, not just in Scripture, but in literature of any kind? Actually, I managed to find a couple. The first one is from someone in the fashion industry in ‘Illonois’ (sic.) It is called, Girl with the Short Hair, and contains the following lines: “Broken girl with/The short hair, I want to/Hold your tears.” A woman with short hair: crying and broken—no surprise. The second poem is called, The Girl with Short Hair. This one is authored by Sarah Logan. It includes the lines: “They have no more pity for the girl with short hair/They just can’t seem to muster a single care.” So this poem is negative also. Short hair on a girl doesn’t seem to evoke anything but misery or pity. How different from the following lines: “I love your hair when the strands enmesh/Your kisses against my face” (Ella Wheeler Wilcox.) Poems about hair are usually about hair that is long—the kind that is praised in the Bible. Until a girl is indoctrinated to hate long hair, she will desire to wear her hair that way. It is a natural desire derived from God.       

I could certainly gather more support for long hair being the rule for women in biblical times, which is the appropriate style for all times. A mop on the head makes a man look shiftless; bobbed hair on the head makes a woman look balky. Hippies and feminists do not make ideal citizens, much less decent disciples. Some Puritan men wore long hair; but they were not shiftless hippies. And again, exceptions prove the rule. Even the Puritans were not perfect on every point; we do not legislate based on exceptions, but based on the Bible alone.

Even in the midst of the cultural insanity that the Western world is presently suffering from, no one can fail to see, after what has been pointed out concerning a woman’s hair, that it is a natural covering of glory that has been gifted to her by God. However, I know that many persons claim to not be able to see what is obvious; and it is possible that not all of these persons are lying when they say so. Because our institutions have been taken over by radicals who deny the possibility of arriving at certain truth, our culture is on a slide of indefinite depth and duration. What is owned as a fact today will be disowned as soon as next week; and virtually every person has his ear cocked to hear what he is supposed to believe next. Therefore, it is becoming possible to be blind to things that are as plain as nature itself. It is no wonder that a woman with a green crew-cut does not shock anyone; we are so far down the road to ruin that genders are being invented to suit the fancy of each baffled soul. Thank God that his word does not change! For those who want to orient themselves to God’s natural order, they need only to set the Bible on the world as one would a map on the ground in order to find out where they are at and where they must go.          

Long hair on a woman is her glory; it is a natural covering. This glory needs to be covered in worship; otherwise the woman’s head (the man) is dishonored and the glory of God (the man) is rivaled. It is natural for women to wear long hair. This is meant to teach us what is natural in worship. If it is natural for women to be covered with glorious hair, and for them to treat this covering as their glory, then it should be easy for them to understand that they and their glory, being a reflection of man (for woman is of man), should be covered during worship in order for the reflection of God (the man) to be apparent and exclusive. Indeed, the image of God must be exclusively betokened in order to be apparent. This betokening is accomplished by placing a token on the woman’s head. The argument from nature is compelling: “Doth not even nature itself teach you, that, if a man have long hair, it is a shame unto him? But if a woman have long hair, it is a glory to her: for her hair is given her for a covering.” The apostle’s arguments are not hard to understand; they are simple, systematic, and solid. For this reason, the apostle will now label persons contentious who will not receive his doctrine.

PART I, ARTICLE VI: THE SYMBOL OF POWER IN THE CHURCHES OF GOD, SECTION VIII

There is Codependence in the Lord for Consolation

Man is the glory of God and the head of woman. This glory should be displayed and this head should be prominent. Woman is the glory of man, under man’s authority, and this glory should be covered to symbolize her subordination. Glory is this way distributed, and authority is this way delegated, because woman originates from man, and is a helpmeet made for man. Though woman is required to advertise her subordinate station, man has no right from God to look down on her. Verses 11 and 12 are included in order to restrain man from abusing his position in the hierarchy. And so we have no argument here, but a safeguard to protect women. We might imagine these two verses in parentheses: “Nevertheless neither is the man without the woman, neither the woman without the man, in the Lord. For as the woman is of the man, even so is the man also by the woman; but all things of God.” Yet again the apostle Paul comes to the rescue of women. He did not shy away from injecting this clause into a passage that was written to reprimand the disobedient sex. He balances the sexes fairly even among cultures to whom a tendency toward ‘equal rights’ would have seemed mad. He reminds the Corinthians of what is obvious. Woman is from man; but since then man is born of woman. The codependence that is taught in these verses is in harmony with the give and take that is necessary in the roles that are assigned to man and woman. According to the nature of each, each depends on the other, and both depend on God, from whom all blessings come. Mutual respect should be shown according to the codependence that naturally exists. Submission to husbands is conjoined with love for wives in Colossians, love for wives with reverence for husbands in Ephesians. The man needs a double dose of respect, while the woman craves a double dose of love. The man needs to be looked up to; the woman needs to be cherished. And each spouse has the right to the other (1 Corinthians 7.4.) This is equal rights according to the Bible. The equilibrium is beautiful under the headships of Christ and God. Man and woman have different roles and functions. The one leads, while the other assists, yet they are equal. They are mutually dependent. 

Spiritual life was first lost by woman when she was deceived by the devil. But it was to be regained through her: Mary gave birth to the Saviour. Natural life was first lost by the woman in the same way; but through childbirth it was continued through her. Woman committed the transgression that led to the fall of both her and man. But her consolation is that she bears the Seed that saves both. It may be that this is what the cryptic 1 Timothy 2.15 refers to: “Notwithstanding she shall be saved in childbearing, if they continue in faith and charity and holiness with sobriety.” Eve’s ‘sorrow and conception’ (Genesis 3.16) looked forward to the holy conception and Mary’s Magnificat: the conception by the Holy Spirit that caused the incarnation of the Son of God, and the estate of woman exalted to its highest pitch. “And Mary said, my soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour. For he hath regarded the low estate of his handmaiden” (Luke 1.46-48.) By her low estate regarded, her soul is lifted to magnify the Lord. This is, by the way, an instance of the ‘joy unspeakable’ that Peter speaks of (1 Peter 1.8.) The first transgression is by woman, but all subsequent salvation, accomplished by the Seed prophesied of in Genesis 3.15, is obviously via woman, for Mary is the mother of Jesus. Salvation is by the Man Christ Jesus, but through a handmaiden. Man is not independent of woman, for through her salvation is come. The head of man is the Man she gave birth to. So even if man is a lord, he cannot, with justice, ‘lord it over,’ as we say. Man had no part in bringing the Saviour into the world. Jesus came through woman by conception of the Holy Ghost. Is this childbirth not the most dignifying deed in the history of the world? For certain that deed can never be outdone by any sinful mortal. Therefore we have the consolatory qualification regarding woman’s subordination to man: “Nevertheless neither is the man without the woman, neither the woman without the man, in the Lord. For as the woman is of the man, even so is the man also by the woman; but all things of God.” The greatest Man, the sinless Man—the Man Christ Jesus, God in human flesh—is through the woman, not the man.