Life in the Spirit

This entry is part of a set of discussions on Inhabiting God's Story

A slightly revised version of this discussion, with extensive notes and a bibliography, will appear in the forthcoming book Reality According to the Scriptures: Initial Reflections

All of this we’ve been exploring in previous sections—all this shifting of allegiances, this letting go of sin, this transformation, this becoming, this new life—it all happens through the power of the Spirit.

We choose life: he gives us life. We turn from our sins: he frees us from our sins. We seek to find ourselves in his Story, in his world: he wakes us up, as from a dream, and we find ourselves there (here!), with him, and with the rest of the family.

The Gospel
Have you ever heard a presentation of the gospel in which the coming of the Spirit of God was central? I just did, by the apostle Paul.

He redeemed us in order that the blessing given to Abraham might come to the Gentiles through Christ Jesus, so that by faith we might receive the promise of the Spirit (Gal 3:14).

In what follows, we’ll explore the significance of this “promise of the Spirit” to the apostolic gospel, which will shed surprising light on the nature of the Story we’re trying to inhabit. This will take us for a significant ride through the narrative-world of the Bible, but it will lead to the very heart of Christian discipleship, and to the ultimate meaning of life itself.

The Blessing and the Promise
Before we explore the “promise of the Spirit,” let’s try to unpack the content of the “blessing given to Abraham,” since they seem to be related.

God’s blessing to Abraham came in the form of promises: promises of land (Gen 12:1, 7; 13:14–17; 15:7, 18–19; 17:8; 22:17; 26:3–4; 28:4, 13; 35:12), descendants (12:2; 13:16; 15:5; 17:4–6; 22:17; 26:4, 24; 28:3, 14; 35:11), a great reputation (12:2), God’s protection (12:3), and the promise of blessing itself (12:2–3a; 17:1–8; 22:17)—not just for him and his family, but that through him “all peoples on earth will be blessed” (12:3b; 12:2b NRSV; 18:18–19; cf. Acts 3:25–26; Gal 3:8–9).

To understand what “blessing” itself is about, a good place to start is Deuteronomy 30:19, where Moses pretty much equates “blessings” with life, just as he equates “curses” with death (cf. Ps 133). “Blessing,” in this general sense, is basically all that we need to thrive, which is why God showered us with it at creation, through both words and actions (Gen 1:1–2:4a).

To “bless” is both what God does and what his people do, as his agents in the world: he promises to bless the children of Abraham and also commissions them to be a blessing to the rest of the world. It’s how God is blessing all the families of the earth, through his people (e.g., Gen 12:3b; 18:18–19; Gal 3:14). We’ll come back to this in a moment.

In terms of God’s part, his blessing is all that we need from him in order to flourish. It’s the approval, validation, favor, provision and protection of our Creator who says: Go and be what I created you to be: live, be fruitful, and thrive (e.g., Gen 1; Isa 65:23; Ezek 34:26; Mal 3:12). This definition helps explain why “blessing” can sum up all that God promised Abraham.

The Calling
Now, even though in his kindness God gives good things to all his creatures (Matthew 5:45; Ps 104; Acts 14:15-17), his blessing rightly begins with being on good terms with the one who’s blessing us (e.g., Ps 1; 32:1–2; 112:1–2; Jer 17:7), that relationship itself being the ultimate blessing: to be children of God and part of his family.

But if we have been reading the biblical story up to that point in Genesis 12, when God called Abraham, we know that all the families of the earth have decidedly not been on good terms with God. And Abraham was called precisely to remedy that. He was called to walk in God’s ways in order to be a witness to the goodness of God and of his ways (e.g., Gen 18:18–19). To the reality that only in God’s ways will we find the life that we’re made for and the blessings we need.

The problem was that the children of Abraham—placed right in the center of the known world, in order to be a light to the rest of the world—were themselves not able to walk in God’s ways, and thus failed to provide the witness the nations needed. Rather than find life in God’s ways, Israel was itself reaping the “curse of the Law” (cf. Gal 3:13), the “death” about which Moses warned them if they didn’t walk in God’s ways.

This day I call the heavens and the earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live and that you may love the Lord your God, listen to his voice, and hold fast to him. For the Lord is your life, and he will give you many years in the land he swore to give to your fathers, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob (Deut 30:19–20; cf. Deut 28).

The rest is history. The most striking feature of the Old Testament narrative is all the ups and downs of the people of God: their going astray and paying the consequences, followed by repentance and God’s rescue, again and again (e.g., Ps 107). And it’s why the Son of God had to come from God to make a way where there clearly was no way: if left up to us, it just wasn’t going to happen.

And so, just as God sent Israel for the sake of the world, so he sent his Son for the sake of Israel (Matt 15:24). “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us, for it is written: ‘Cursed is everyone who is hung on a pole’” (Gal 3:13 citing Deut 21:23).

But wait, “redeemed” who? Well, Israel, first of all, to set them free to be the light to the nations they were called to be (Isa 42:6; 49:6; 52:10; 60:3; John 8:12; Acts 13:47; 26:23). And that’s exactly what we got when twelve apostles representing the twelve tribes of Israel went and did what the Lord had sent them to do (Matt 28:19–20; Luke 24:45–50; Acts 1:4–5), “in order that the blessing given to Abraham might come to the Gentiles through Christ Jesus, so that by faith we might receive the promise of the Spirit.” (Gal 3:14; cf. Luke 24:49).

The Promise of the Spirit
Now, when we go to the Old Testament in search of this “promise of the Spirit” (Gal 3:14; Eph 1:13–14), we actually find no explicit promise of the Spirit from God to Abraham. What we do find is the development of a sense of expectation for the coming of the Spirit as part of the fulfilment of God’s promises in general, including his promises to Abraham. This is true in two main senses: one general and implicit, the other specific and explicit.

Echoes of God’s Promise
First, there’s a general sense of expectation that God would act again through his Spirit, as he had in the past. As we’ll see below, God has a tendency to act in his creation through his Spirit, both as creator and as redeemer, so that the coming of the Spirit is expected as part of the fulfillment of God’s promises in general.

But there’s also a specific promise of the Spirit which is part of the promised new covenant, when God will give his people new hearts through his Spirit (Ezek 36:26–27). This isn’t the only time God explicitly promises the Spirit in the Old Testament (I’ll mention others below), but it’s probably the most significant one (cf. Rom 2:29; Heb 8), and it’s likely one Paul has in mind in his reference to “the promise of the Spirit.”

The Lord your God will circumcise your hearts and the hearts of your descendants, so that you may love him with all your heart and with all your soul, and live (Deut 30:6—a promise echoed through Jeremiah in terms of a new covenant).

“This is the covenant I will make with the people of Israel after that time,” declares the Lord. “I will put my law in their minds and write it on their hearts. I will be their God, and they will be my people. No longer will they teach their neighbor, or say to one another, ‘Know the Lord,’ because they will all know me, from the least of them to the greatest,” declares the Lord. “For I will forgive their wickedness and will remember their sins no more” (Jer 31:33–34—later echoed through Ezekiel in terms of the work of the Spirit).

I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws (Ezek 36:26–27).

These are the texts behind Romans 2:29: “a person is a Jew who is one inwardly; and circumcision is circumcision of the heart, by the Spirit, not by the written code.” So when Paul speaks of “the promise of the Spirit” in Galatians and Ephesians, this sense of the promise is at least part of what he has in mind.

What I’m suggesting, then, is that Paul probably has more than one sense of the promise in mind. In fact, he could have both the general sense of expectation for the coming of the Spirit, and multiple particular referents to the promise in mind.

For example, besides the general sense of expectation for the coming of the Spirit, he could have the new covenant in mind (as he does in Romans 2:29), and he could also be reading backward, reasoning back to Genesis from his own experience of what God was doing in the church through the Spirit: “Paul could readily deduce that, through the giving of the Spirit, God was making Abraham the father of innumerable descendants [as he promised in Genesis 22:17]—of all those who, through baptism, were being incorporated into Christ, the Seed of Abraham” (David A. deSilva). If this is so, then Paul is reading Genesis in light of the rest of the Story, and finding the promise of the Spirit implicit in promises made to Abraham.

God’s Story and His Spirit
In any case, these expectations regarding “the promise of the Spirit” are best understood within the larger Story the Scriptures are telling: a story that began at creation and will end in a new creation—both brought about through the Spirit.

That Story begins in Genesis 1, when God’s Spirit hovered over primordial waters at the beginning of creation (Gen 1:2). Although the Spirit is only mentioned one time in Genesis 1, the overall sense in the Scriptures is that this Spirit “hovering over the waters” was involved in God’s creative work. God also created the world by his word, a word that is itself associated with his Spirit, since the Hebrew word for Spirit (rûaḥ) also means breath and wind: God’s Spirit is his breath. “By the word of the Lord the heavens were made, their starry host by the breath of his mouth” (Ps 33:6). “When you send your Spirit, they are created, and you renew the face of the ground” (Ps 104:30).

We see God’s rûaḥ again during the flood, in Genesis 8:1, when God “sent a wind [rûaḥ] over the earth, and the waters receded.” While in Genesis 1 God brought order to creation through his rûaḥ “hovering over the waters,” during the flood he sends his rûaḥ once again to subdue the waters and begin a new creation.

Later on (in Exodus 14:21), as Pharaoh’s army pursued Israel, “Moses stretched out his hand over the sea, and all that night the Lord drove the sea back with a strong east wind [rûaḥ] and turned it into dry land.” If it wasn’t for the poem that followed, however, we might have missed something of the nature of this “strong east wind.”

By the blast of your nostrils
the waters piled up.
The surging waters stood up like a wall…
The enemy boasted,
‘I will pursue, I will overtake…
I will gorge myself on them…’
But you blew with your breath,
and the sea covered them.
(Exod 15:8–10)

Can you see the pattern that’s beginning to emerge? It is through his rûaḥ that God tends to act, work, and come to the rescue when his people need help. At least, that’s what we’re coming to expect by this point in the story.

The Torah [from Genesis to Deuteronomy] sets a pattern regarding the rûah acting to fulfil God's creational purposes. The rûah brings order to the watery unformed creation (Gen. 1:2) and acts to master waters in order to fulfil God's plans in establishing a righteous ‘new humanity’ with Noah's offspring (Gen. 8:1) and Abraham's seed (Exod. 14:21; 15:8, 10). With the drama of God's redemption of creation just beginning to unfold in the Torah, a reader wonders whether God's rûah will again act to further fulfil his promises of cosmic redemption. (VanGemeren and Abernethy)

Which he will, beginning by empowering people to lead Israel and bring order to society. This can be said explicitly of Joseph (Gen 41:38), then of Moses (Num 11:17)—whose legacy would continue later in the ministry of the prophets (Deut 18:15–18; Mal 4:4), then of those who built the Tabernacle (Exod 31:1–7; 35:30–35), of the seventy elders (Num 11:25), and of Joshua (27:18)—though Moses wished God put his rûaḥ on all his people (11:29), a wish that would be granted soon enough (Acts 2:14–21; cf. Joel 2:28–32).

In the time of the Judges, we see God’s rûaḥ empowering Othniel (Judg 3:10), Gideon (6:34), Jephthah (11:29), and Samson (13:25; 14:6, 19; 15:14, 19). However, if you’ve read the book of Judges, you know that despite God’s interventions, all is not well during this period: “In those days Israel had no king; everyone did as they saw fit” (Judg 17:6; 21:25, etc.). But while Judges ends “hoping for a king who would rule under God’s Lordship, Samuel presents David as a ray of light awaiting the dawn of an anointed king who would reign justly and in the fear of the Lord without faltering” (VanGemeren and Abernethy).

These are the last words of David… “The Spirit of the Lord spoke through me; his word was on my tongue. The God of Israel spoke, the Rock of Israel said to me: ‘When one rules over people in righteousness, when he rules in the fear of God, he is like the light of morning at sunrise on a cloudless morning, like the brightness after rain that brings grass from the earth’” (2 Sam 23:1–4).

Sadly, David didn’t live up to the Spirit’s desires (2 Sam 11–12), and neither did most of his sons. Yet, the Lord had promised to David:

Once for all, I have sworn by my holiness–
and I will not lie to David–
that his line will continue forever
and his throne endure before me like the sun;
it will be established forever like the moon,
the faithful witness in the sky.
(Ps 89: 35–37)

So there arose the expectation, based on these promises, of a coming righteous king from the line of David—a Messiah, God’s Anointed One:

A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse [David’s dad];
from his roots a Branch will bear fruit.
The Spirit of the Lord will rest on him–
the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding,
the Spirit of counsel and of might,
the Spirit of the knowledge and fear of the Lord–
and he will delight in the fear of the Lord.
(Isa 11:1–3; cf. 42:1–4; 61:1–3)

But it wasn’t just leaders, prophets and Messiah whom the Spirit would empower. Eventually, God would pour out his Spirit on “all people” (Joel 2:28, cf. Num 11:29)—even on the land itself (Isa 32:15–18; 44:3)—to bring about a new creation (Isa 28–35), when even the dead will rise from their graves (Ezek 37:1–14).

These expectations help explain why the events the apostles witnessed happened “in accordance with the Scriptures” (e.g., Matt 1:22–23; 1 Cor 15:3–4; Acts 2:16): the restoration the Lord was bringing about (Luke 3:22; 4:18–19; Acts 10:38), the democratization of the gift of prophecy (Acts 2:14–21), even the resurrection itself (Mark 12:18–27; 16:1–7; Rom 8:21–25; 2 Cor 5:1–5)—these were all “promises of the Spirit!”

The Logic of the Story
Of course, as we keep reading our Story in the New Testament and then in church history, we learn that the fulfilment of this promised restoration turned out to be a process, not a once and for all kind of event, as we might have hoped. The same can be said about the coming of God’s kingdom, which includes this promised restoration: all authority in heaven and on earth has already been given to the Son of God (Matt 28:18), but his will is still not done without opposition.

The reason why it had to be this way, it seems to me, is because God hasn’t given up on his original intention to rule the earth through us (Gen 1:26–27). That’s why this is taking time! And it’s why at the heart of this “promise” was the solution to the root of all our problems: the transformation of our hearts, the ability to walk in God’s ways that we might live and thrive as our Creator has longed to see from the beginning (Gen 1:28).

So, the Lord Jesus paid the ransom that set us free from “our legal indebtedness” (Col 2:13–15; cf. Rev 12:10–11), and by the coming of the Spirit we’re actually enabled to live out that freedom: “the freedom and glory of the children of God” (Rom 8:21).

This, then, is the content of the apostolic gospel: that the promise made to Abraham regarding the blessing of the nations—a blessing that includes all of the above—had finally begun to be fulfilled. The coming of the Spirit was evidence of that (Acts 2; 10:34–48). “Scripture foresaw that God would justify the Gentiles by faith, and announced the gospel in advance to Abraham: ‘All nations will be blessed through you’” (Gal 3:8)

God with Us
As we know, the promise of the Spirit was formally fulfilled on the day of Pentecost (Acts 2; cf. Luke 24:49), when the Holy Spirit came and filled the church with the presence of God. That’s right, with the presence of God. The Spirit we received at Pentecost was the same “Presence” that took Israel out of Egypt and led them through the wilderness (Isa 63:9–14). The Spirit of God = the presence of God = God himself!

As we’ll see below, what happened at Pentecost was basically the coming of Emmanuel all over again, and in a new way. A coming that had precedent not only in the Incarnation of the Son of God, but also in the expectation of the coming of Yahweh in the Old Testament.

Paul thus regularly spoke of the spirit in ways which indicate that he regarded the spirit, as he regarded the Messiah, as the glorious manifestation of YHWH himself. This conclusion is not dependent on one or two verbal echoes, but relies on the regular and repeated invocation of the various elements of the foundational exodus-narrative. The spirit is, it seems, the ultimate mode of YHWH’s personal and powerful presence with, and even in, his people. (N. T. Wright and Michael F. Bird)

So, God’s coming (or returning) has always been at the heart of the good news we longed to hear, and the one we finally heard. Everything else we needed would follow, as expected when Father comes home. It was the same when his Son came too, because when we see the Son, we see the Father (John 14:8–11). And it turns out that something similar is going on with his Spirit too.

To think that it was better for the Lord Jesus to leave us so that his Spirit would come (John 16:7–11)—what could possibly be better than face-to-face relationship with the Son of God? Well, it looks like the answer is oneness with God. But I get ahead of myself.

God’s Empowering Presence
Gordon Fee points out the extent of the Spirit’s involvement in the life of the believer, and of the church:

...the Thessalonians’ conversion is by the sanctifying work of the Spirit (2 Thess 2:13; cf. 1 Cor 6:11; Rom 15:16), as is their accompanying joy (1 Thess 1:6; cf. Rom 15:13). Revelation comes through the Spirit (1 Cor 2:10; Eph 3:5); and Paul’s preaching is accompanied by the power of the Spirit (1 Thess 1:5). Prophetic speech and speaking in tongues result directly from speaking by the Spirit (1 Cor 12:3; 14:2, 16). By the Spirit the Romans put to death any sinful practices (Rom 8:13). Paul desires the Ephesians to be strengthened by means of God’s Spirit (Eph 3:16). Believers serve by the Spirit (Phil 3:3), love by the Spirit (Col 1:8), are sealed by the Spirit (Eph 1:13), and walk and live by the Spirit (Gal 5:16, 25). Finally, believers are “saved through washing by the Spirit, whom God poured out upon them" (Titus 3:5).

Not only that, but...

The Spirit searches all things (1 Cor 2:10), knows the mind of God (1 Cor 2:11), teaches the content of the gospel to believers (1 Cor 2:13), dwells among or within believers (1 Cor 3:16; Rom 8:11; 2 Tim 1:14), accomplishes all things (1 Cor 12:11), gives life to those who believe (2 Cor 3:6), cries out from within our hearts (Gal 4:6), leads us in the ways of God (Gal 5:18; Rom 8:14), bears witness with our own spirits (Rom 8:16), has desires that are in opposition to the flesh (Gal 5:17), helps us in our weakness (Rom 8:26), intercedes in our behalf (Rom 8:26–27), works all things together for our ultimate good (Rom 8:28), strengthens believers (Eph 3:16), and is grieved by our sinfulness (Eph 4:30).

And I am undone. Can you sense the nature of this relationship? The oneness? He’s not only making his dwelling among us, he’s making us one with himself (cf. 1 Cor 6:17). Do you see that? This is what he had promised: “On that day you will realize that I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you” (John 14:20).

'That day' is the day when Jesus will have returned to the Father and sent the Spirit to be with and in his disciples. Then they will learn in a new way the truth of his mutual oneness with the Father of which they had so often heard him speak. They will know in their own experience that as he is in the Father they are in their living Lord and their living Lord in them. This threefold coinherence [or "mutual indwelling"] is a coinherence of love; those who are admitted to it are those who love their living Lord, showing their love by their obedience...

The disciples, already loved by the Father and by the Son, now have the same Spirit imparted to them and, being introduced by him into the circle of the divine love, are enabled not only to reciprocate that love but also to manifest it to one another and to all mankind (cf. Rom. 5:5; 15;30; Col. 1:8). (F. F. Bruce).

And so an answer starts to emerge for me as to why it was better for the Lord to “leave us” so the Spirit would come. It’s because he didn’t really leave us! In fact, by the coming of the Spirit to make his home among us, and within us, all three (Father, Son and Spirit) are now with us in a new and more intimate way.

To be clear, all three are with us in a sense, because the Lord did leave in the sense that we don’t see his resurrected body around these days. Nevertheless, given the evidence above, it seems clear to me that all three are with us in a real sense.

I take my cue from Philips’ experience, when he asked the Lord to show him the Father (John 14:8–11). The Lord seemed perplexed by the question: How could you ask that, Philip? Listen to his response:

Jesus answered: “Don’t you know me, Philip, even after I have been among you such a long time? Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Don’t you believe that I am in the Father, and that the Father is in me?

Who was it that answered Philip’s question? Philip wants to see the Father and Jesus answers: “Don’t you know me, Philip?” Can you hear the Father himself responding through the lips of Jesus?

Oneness with God
Let’s come back to the question, then, about why it was better for the Lord Jesus to leave us so we could have the Spirit (John 15:26–16:15).

It was probably not because “the Spirit of truth” was better able to prove the world wrong about sin, righteousness and judgement (John 16:8–11). Nor because he’s a better “Advocate” than the Son of God (16:7). They always work together. There is no Holy Spirit without the Son of God, and there’s no Son of God without the Holy Spirit.

It was in the power of the Spirit that the Lord Jesus was born (Luke 1:35), and then did all he did when he came to our rescue (John 1:32–34; Luke 4:14, etc.; Rom 8:11). And it’s from the Son of God that the Spirit gets what he gives to us (John 16:14–15). There’s that oneness again that so intrigues me. And it’s why it was better that the Lord Jesus leave us so we could have the Spirit: because through the Spirit, we can join that oneness. So that what God is up to on earth can be accomplished through us.

Now, clearly, the Son of God is unique in his oneness with God (e.g., Phil 2:6). In his eternal existence with the Father (e.g., John 1:1–4; 17:5; Col 1:15–20). But besides that, I see three main realities going on here, making such oneness possible and comprehensible, all now available to us through the Spirit.

Representing God, Not Ourselves
One is the reality and the logic of representation in the narrative-world of the Bible. I explored this in “The Story of the Cross” (a Scripture reflection): “The Lord’s Servant was representing Israel, who was in turn representing humanity, who was in turn representing God on the earth. Humanity’s plight was being addressed through Israel. And Israel’s plight was being addressed through God’s Servant.”

Looking at it the other way around, the Lord Jesus was representing the Father (to Israel). And just as Moses is like God to Pharaoh (Exod 7:1–2), and the prophets’ words are “the word of Yahweh” (cf. 2 Pet 1:21), so Jesus’ words are the Father’s words. When we see the Son we see the Father, because he represents him. Likewise, we represent the Son and thus the Father. And when people bless or curse Jesus’ followers, for example, they are blessing or cursing Jesus himself (e.g., Matt 25:37–40), precisely because we’re his representatives (e.g., 1 John 4:17 CEB, NRSV).

A similar dynamic is going on with humanity in general: believers or not, humans are God’s representatives on earth (Gen 1:26–28). That was established at creation and still holds. It’s why God is giving us his Spirit, you see: to enable us to be and do what he’s wanted us to be and do from the beginning.

Enacting God’s Vision
The second aspect I see to this oneness is related to the first and it’s a oneness of agency. We hear the Lord Jesus say that he does nothing except what he sees the Father doing (John 5:15–23; 11:38; 14:8–11). I think such oneness of agency is our aim too as his followers.

We can see it at work in the apostles after Pentecost. In the book of Acts, we see the church “turning the world upside down” (in a good way), but you get the sense that it’s really God himself making all the moves and running the show through his Spirit. Paul, for example, can even say that it’s no longer he who lives but Christ who lives in him (Gal 2:20). Now that’s surrender. And oneness with God, as you can imagine, requires surrender.

Life in the Spirit
The third reality I see going on in this oneness is the subject of this discussion and what actually makes it happen: the real presence of God with us, and in us, through his Spirit.

Now, to understand this idea of God’s Spirit indwelling his people, we’ll need to go back to the beginning of our Story, this time to the creation account of Genesis 2.

Then the Lord God formed a man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being (Gen 2:7).

We have at least three reasons to believe that the “breath” of God in Genesis 2:7 refers to the same reality that “the Spirit of God” does elsewhere in Scripture (e.g., Job 33:4; Ps 146:3–4). First, because the beginnings of Genesis 1 (1:1–3) and Genesis 2 (2:4b–7) are parallel texts (structurally)—one echoing the other—the “Spirit” of Genesis 1 and the “breath” of Genesis 2 can be taken as speaking about the same reality. Though that only makes sense because the Hebrew word for “Spirit” in Genesis 1 (rûaḥ) also means “breath,” as I explained above.

The second reason is actually “behind” the text, in ancient Near Eastern parallels to what God was doing in Genesis 2:7. Let’s take a quick look at that background to see what light it sheds on the meaning of God sharing his breath or Spirit with human beings. It is significant.

Old Testament scholar Richard Middleton explains that God’s breathing the breath of life into the man in Genesis 2 bears many of the marks of an ancient Mesopotamian ritual known as “the opening of the mouth” or “the washing of the mouth.” This ritual “typically took place in a sacred grove beside a river (a motif echoed in the garden narrative in Genesis 2). The purpose of the ritual was to vivify the newly carved cult statue so that it would become a living entity, imbued with the spirit and presence of the deity for which it was an image.”

Middleton explains that “when Genesis 1 and 2 are read together against the background of ancient Near Eastern notions... humanity is understood as the authorized cult statue in the cosmic temple, the decisive locus of divine presence on earth, the living image of God in the cosmic sanctuary.”

All that we have learned about the gospel and the promise of the Spirit belongs in this larger picture of humanity as the image of God in his cosmic sanctuary. This is key to understanding the nature of reality according to the Scriptures, which is key to understanding the content of the gospel and why it is good news.

The Bible describes the cosmos as God’s temple-palace, his home and ours too. That is the nature of creation. God made humans in his own “image” and “likeness” (Gen 1:26–27), which means that he made us like him in some sense, but also that we are to image him—to be like him—ruling over the earth on his behalf, and as he would (v. 26).

There seem to be various senses to the meaning of God’s “image,” but however one looks at it, being “the image of God” has to do with representation. We’re not just any image though, or any representative, we are children of God. That is the primary meaning of the “image” and “likeness” of God in Scripture (cf. Gen 5:3; Luke 3:23b, 38; Acts 17:28–29), a meaning that includes our ruling over the earth on our Father’s behalf (Gen 1:26–28). Genesis 2 then takes the ancient Near Eastern notion of a god’s image being “imbued with the spirit and presence of the deity” and legitimates it, as also reflecting something of how God created us.

Now, the typical climax of temple inauguration ceremonies, both in the Bible and in the ancient Near East, is when the God or gods move into their newly built home: either by the placing of the image in the temple of the god it represents, or by God’s very presence filling the tabernacle and the temple (Exod 40:34–35; 1 Kgs 8:6–11; 2 Chr 5; Ezra 43:1–5; Rev 21:1–4). But here’s the thing: we don’t see God’s presence filling the earth at the end of the Genesis creation accounts—which one would expect, if the cosmos is God’s temple. And that’s precisely the point of Genesis 1:26–28 and 2:7: we are to fill the earth with God’s presence!

It is imperative to understand what this means... although we are self-conscious beings, our destiny lies not in an individualistic self-fulfillment or self-glorification but in our conforming to the Other—namely, the God in whose image we are made (Rikk E. Watts).

Of course, we did go astray in Genesis 3 and, well, the rest is history. But that’s precisely what the Lord came to address. He came to restore the image of God on earth (1 Cor 15:21–22, 45–49; 2 Cor 3:18; Col 1:15), and he’s still at it (Rom 5:9–11; 8:15–17; 1 Cor 1:8; 2 Cor 5:17; Gal 6:15). It remains for us, then, to go and find out what this means—as we have been doing—because it seems pretty clear that the ball is in our court now. Such is the invitation of the gospel.

On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jewish leaders, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you! ... As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.” And with that he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit” (John 20:19, 21–22).

This, finally, is the third reason why we can equate the breath of God in Genesis 2:7 with God’s Spirit. “Most scholars concur that when Jesus breathes on the disciples, John is alluding to the creative, life-imparting act of God in Gen 2:7; Jesus is creating a new humanity, a new creation” (Craig S. Keener).

Now we have what it takes to be one with God—to be what he created us to be—to fill the earth with his presence and his life. Of course, we only know in part what God is up to (1 Cor 13:9–12), so it’s often not straightforward how one is to proceed or what to make of things, but we need to trust him.

The Holy Spirit knows the mind of God (1 Cor 2:11), knows absolutely all that’s going on (1 Cor 2:10), and knows exactly how he’s making all things new (cf. Isa 43:18–19; 2 Cor 5:17; Rev 21:15). He brings us into the flow of the life and the will of God (Gen 1:26–28; John 14:20; 16:12–15), gives us a role to play and makes us part of what he’s doing (e.g., Gen 1:26–28; 7:1–5, 9:7–13; 12:1–3; Exod 3:1–10; Matt 28:18–20; Luke 4:18–19; 5:14; Gal 5:25; Phil 3:3; Col 1:8). How well we’re able to play such a role hinges on how much we’re able to yield to his Spirit (Rom 8:1–17; 1 Pet 4:11). On how much of ourselves we conform to the One in whose image we’re made (Rom 8:14, 29; 2 Cor 3:18). The more we do, the more we realize how right this is—that it’s just what we’re made for.

Conclusion
We have come to the end of our journey here and have to wrap up. This I have learned: that if I'm ever looking for the heart of the gospel, it’s got to be somewhere around this oneness we’ve been trying to understand. God himself living through a new humanity, through the body of Christ, that is the life of the age to come. It has begun.

Epilogue: God's Grandeur
The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

—Gerard Manley Hopkins

Appendix
On Ruach Elohim