Applying Luke 7 (Jesus Raising the Widow’s Son from the Dead)

At church this morning, the pastor was preaching about a story in Luke 7, in which Jesus raises from the dead a widow’s only son, who died at a young age.  This story has troubled me somewhat.  V 13 says that the Lord had compassion for the widow woman, and I one time heard a Bible study group’s leader say that the lesson here is that God has a tender heart for our suffering.  But my problem is this: If God has a tender heart for our suffering, why does God allow our suffering?  Granted, Jesus felt compassion for that widow woman when he was on earth, and he raised the woman’s son from the dead.  But that’s a rare occurrence.  There are plenty of people out there in the world who lose children to death at a young age, and those children are not raised from the dead.

The pastor said that Jesus’ raising of people from the dead during his earthly ministry may have foreshadowed his own resurrection, in which Jesus would defeat death.  The pastor was saying that Jesus tells us today amidst our problems what he told the widow woman in v 13: weep not.  The reason is that Jesus’ resurrection has brought us the hope that death is not the last word.

Perhaps believing in Jesus’ resurrection can provide people with hope.  In my opinion, though, that depends on how inclusive one’s view of salvation is.  If I have to believe that people will go to hell if they died before saying some prayer, then I wouldn’t have that much hope.  Sure, I’d be happy that I’d see my departed Christian friends or loved-ones in the afterlife, but I’d be sad that I couldn’t see non-Christian friends or loved ones—-that they’d be in hell.

Jesus Loves Introverts, Too

For its Bible study, my church is still going through John’s Gospel: Wisdom from Ephesus, with Michael Card.

I appreciated Michael Card’s depiction of John as someone who was quiet and liked to stay in the background, whereas Peter was one who continually spoke up.  Yet, both disciples were loved by Jesus.  That resonated with me, as someone who has often criticized on this blog the tendency of Christianity to stigmatize introverts and to glorify extroverts.  I also liked how people in the group were sharing stories about whether they were more like Peter or John.  The pastor said that he was quiet, like John, and that he had difficulty making friends when he was in high school because he was painfully shy.  That could be why he’s so understanding when it comes to my own social difficulties.  He and I have never discussed that topic explicitly, but he does seem to understand that I’m shy around people, and he does not judge me for it.

A Truly Fresh Start?

I wrote a post on May 24, 2013 about the underwater memorial in Joshua 4:9 and Jimmy Swaggart’s view that the stones comprising that memorial were from Israel’s experience in the wilderness, and that the message of the memorial was that Israel’s sins in the wilderness had been buried underwater, symbolizing that the sins were forgiven and forgotten by God.

While I acknowledged that there was no evidence within the biblical text for Swaggart’s interpretation, I thought that there was a theme in the Book of Joshua of Israel having a new beginning, a fresh start.  In Joshua 5, the Israelites are circumcised and, through that, the reproach of Egypt is rolled off of them.  Israel also observes the Passover.

But did Israel truly have a fresh start?  I noticed a passage that seemed to indicate the contrary.  In Joshua 22:17, we read, “Is the iniquity of Peor too little for us, from which we are not cleansed until this day, although there was a plague in the congregation of the LORD” (KJV).  And Joshua 24:19 states: “And Joshua said unto the people, Ye cannot serve the LORD: for he is an holy God; he is a jealous God; he will not forgive your transgressions nor your sins.”

Is God forgiving or not?  Has God forgotten Israel’s sins from the time prior to her entrance into the Promised Land or not?  Here are some ramblings:

I think that God was giving Israel a fresh start—-an opportunity to obey God—-but also that God still remembered her sin at Baal-peor.  Was Israel cleansed of that sin at Baal-peor, in the sense that God had forgiven her of that sin?  Well, yes, in the sense that God still had a relationship with Israel rather than forsaking or destroying her for her sin.  And yet, Israel still felt that God was holding over her head the sin of Baal-Peor that she had committed before she entered the Promised Land—-that she was not thoroughly cleansed.  And, for a time, that belief was actually encouraging Israel to be punctilious in her obedience to God: she was already dirty before God, on some level, so why make God madder?  It was like Israel was on probation: she had a second chance, but God still remembered her sin at Baal-Peor, so she’d better not blow her second chance!

In the case of Joshua 24:19 (“And Joshua said unto the people, Ye cannot serve the LORD: for he is an holy God; he is a jealous God; he will not forgive your transgressions nor your sins”), I think that Joshua is essentially telling Israel to count the cost: she is eager to be in covenant with God and feels that she will be obedient, but Joshua tells her to think seriously about what she’s getting into: she is entering into (or reaffirming) a covenant in which God will take her sin seriously and will punish her for it.

Is this the sort of God I believe in?  I believe in a God who desires righteousness, like the God in Joshua 22 and 24.  Do I believe that God holds my sins over my head?  I don’t believe that God does so to condemn me, for God is committed to me and provides me with second, third, and even more chances.  But God may hold my sins over my head as a teaching device—-so that I remember the negative consequences of sin and thus choose not to pursue sin.  My understanding of God is perhaps more patient with me than God is with Israel in the Book of Joshua, but I can see at least some value in how the Book of Joshua portrays God.

“I Come with Joy”

At church this morning, I enjoyed reading the lyrics of the hymn, “I Come with Joy”, which we sang for communion.  Here are two stanzas that particularly stood out to me, along with my comments.

“As Christ breaks bread and bids us share,
“each proud division ends.
“That love that made us makes us one,
“and strangers now are friends.”

I like this stanza because it’s about ending of the pride that divides us from people and strangers becoming friends.  Can taking communion bring this about?  I’m not optimistic that it solves all personal and inter-relational problems, but perhaps it’s a step in the right direction.  It’s an opportunity for us to reflect on our own shortcomings and God’s unconditional love for us in the midst of our imperfection, and that can encourage us to become humbler and less judgmental of others.  And it’s people doing something together: eating bread and drinking wine (or grape juice) to remember Jesus Christ.  Okay, so it’s a step in the right direction, but, in my opinion, it would take a lot more than a ritual to reach deeply into my innermost self, to heal me of my pride and my resentments, and to enable me to become a friend with strangers.  Still, I do have a feeling of peace and of being at home when I am at church.

“Together met, together bound,
“we’ll go our different ways,
“and as his people in the world,
“we’ll live and speak his praise.”

The reason that this stanza stood out to me is that it appears to contrast with modern evangelical emphases on community.  When I attended Redeemer Presbyterian Church in New York City, for example, the model of people going to a church service then going their separate ways to practice Christian principles was not highly praised.  Rather, we were encouraged to be in community with one another.

As a loner and as one who struggles socially, I tend to flinch from communitarian language.  And yet, there is a part of me that can identify with it.  It’s good to have spiritual mentors or friends, who can provide one with moral support and wisdom.  I know that I am braver at doing what I need to do when I have encouragement from another human being, than I do when I am alone.

The Hour Is Come!

For my Bible study, my church is going through John’s Gospel: Wisdom from Ephesus, with Michael Card.  What I want to talk about in this blog post is an event in John 12.  Greeks are in Jerusalem to worship at the festival, and some of them want to see Jesus.  When Jesus is told about this, he says:

“The hour is come, that the Son of man should be glorified.   Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.   He that loveth his life shall lose it; and he that hateth his life in this world shall keep it unto life eternal.  If any man serve me, let him follow me; and where I am, there shall also my servant be: if any man serve me, him will my Father honour.  Now is my soul troubled; and what shall I say? Father, save me from this hour: but for this cause came I unto this hour.  Father, glorify thy name.”  (John 12:23-28 KJV)

I have two questions, as well as questions accompanying the two questions:

1.  Why did hearing that Greeks wanted to see Jesus make Jesus realize that his death was imminent?  What is the relationship between Greeks wanting to see Jesus and Jesus’ death being near?  Was it because the Greeks wanting to see him reminded him that he would draw all people to himself when he was lifted up from the earth?  Was Jesus recalling that his crucifixion and resurrection would lead to the inclusion of Gentiles into God’s people, and the fact that Greeks wanted to see him was an indication that the harvest was ripe—-that his role in including the Gentiles was about to be realized?  Was it because the Greeks’ acceptance of him highlighted in his mind that there were prominent people within his own nation who were seeking to kill him, even as outsiders were accepting him?

Jamieson, Faussett, and Brown say about v 23: “[The Greeks] would see Jesus, would they? Yet a little moment, and they shall see Him so as now they dream not of. The middle wall of partition that keeps them out from the commonwealth of Israel is on the eve of breaking down, ‘and I, if I be lifted up from the earth, shall draw all men unto Me’…” 

2.  Jesus’ statement that “The hour is come” intrigues me, on account of John 2:4, in which Jesus is reluctant to change the water into wine because his hour has not yet come.  If Jesus’ “hour” is the time of his crucifixion and resurrection (see also John 7:30 and 8:20), what would his crucifixion and resurrection have to do with his reluctance to change water into wine?  “I don’t want to change water into wine right now, for my time to be crucified and resurrected has not come yet.”  That doesn’t make much sense, does it?

There are a number of interpreters who just say that Jesus in John 2:4 means that his hour to do miracles has not yet come.  That sounds logical, but Jesus’ “hour” in John so often refers to his arrest, crucifixion, and resurrection, that I have a hard time saying that it means something different in John 2:4.

Of the commentaries that I read, John Gill and John MacArthur try to factor Jesus’ passion and resurrection into John 2:4.  John Gill speculates that “it was not proper for him to work miracles as yet, lest it should provoke his enemies to seek his life before his time…”  Maybe.  Perhaps Jesus in John’s Gospel realized that the performance of his work was a delicate task: that he had to do things just right to get his message out.  Jumping the gun by publicly turning the water into wine might puzzle or anger people prematurely, and thus he wouldn’t be able to say what he needed to say, when he needed to say it.  Why, then, did Jesus turn the water into wine?  Because he did so in a private, low-key manner, which would not attract premature attention.

John MacArthur states: “My hour has not yet come. The phrase constantly refers to Jesus’ death and exaltation (7:30; 8:20; 12:23, 27; 13:1; 17:1). He was on a divine schedule decreed by God before the foundation of the world. Since the prophets characterized the messianic age as a time when wine would flow liberally (Jer. 31:12; Hos. 14:7; Amos 9:13, 14), Jesus was likely referring to the fact that the necessity of the cross must come before the blessings of the millennial age.”

I’m not overly convinced by this explanation, to tell you the truth.  I don’t think that Jesus had to die and rise again before Israel could enjoy the blessings of the messianic age, for such blessings were evident in Jesus’ ministry, before he died and rose again.  In Matthew 11:5 and Luke 7:22, Jesus says that John the Baptist should have known that Jesus was the Messiah on account of the healings that Jesus was performing.  Jesus in these passages may have had in mind such scriptures as Isaiah 35:6: “Then shall the lame man leap as an hart, and the tongue of the dumb sing: for in the wilderness shall waters break out, and streams in the desert.”  But, if you only want to consider what’s in John’s Gospel in interpreting John’s Gospel, even John’s Gospel implies that the blessings of the messianic age are occurring during Jesus’ ministry.  In John 6:45, for example, Jesus applies the prophecy that “they shall be all taught of God” to the people who were believing in him.

And yet, there is a sense in John’s Gospel that certain prophecies in the Hebrew Bible could not be fulfilled until after Jesus died and rose again.  In John 7:38-39, we read (in the KJV): “He that believeth on me, as the scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water. (But this spake he of the Spirit, which they that believe on him should receive: for the Holy Ghost was not yet given; because that Jesus was not yet glorified.)”

Forsake Not the Assembling of Yourselves Together

Hebrews 10:23-25 states (in the King James Version): “Let us hold fast the profession of our faith without wavering; (for he is faithful that promised;)And let us consider one another to provoke unto love and to good works:  Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is; but exhorting one another: and so much the more, as ye see the day approaching.”

A while back, someone at a church that I attended asked how often one would have to miss church before he or she technically forsakes “the assembling of ourselves together”.  Why would he ask this?  I think it’s because there are many who have left Armstrongism who find themselves in a state of exile, as they try to cultivate their relationship with God outside of a church structure.  But I’d also venture to say that even Armstrongism itself can cultivate a “lone-ranger Christian” mentality.  Overall, the Armstrongites believed that they alone had the full truth.  But not everyone who accepted Armstrongite doctrines lived close to an Armstrongite church, and they were not about to attend any nearby Sunday-keeping churches, for they considered those churches to be deceived!  Consequently, there were a number of lone-ranger Armstrongites who stayed home and rested on the Sabbath, as they listened to sermon-tapes from the church’s headquarters.

But my impression is that all Armstrongites were expected to attend the Feast of Tabernacles.  There were feast sites in various parts of the country (even the world!), and many people associated with the church felt that God wanted them to take a trip to one of those sites and attend services there.

As I did my daily quiet time in the Book of Joshua recently, I thought about Reuben, Gad, and the half-tribe of Manasseh, who lived in the Transjordan rather than where the rest of the Israelites dwelt, namely, the Promised Land.  Moses and Joshua told these two-and-a-half tribes that they could dwell in the Transjordan, but they still had to cross the Jordan River with the rest of the Israelites to help those Israelites to take possession of the Promised Land from the Canaanites.  Once Reuben, Gad, and the half-tribe of Manasseh completed this task, they could return to their homes in the Transjordan.

Would the two-and-a-half tribes be cut off from the rest of Israel after they returned to the Transjordan?   They did set up a controversial altar close to the Transjordan, not for sacrifices, but to communicate that they were still a part of the larger body of Israel.  But they were still expected to offer sacrifices (Joshua 22:27), which would occur wherever the central sanctuary of Israel happened to be.  Presumably, they would still gather with the other Israelites three times a year, during the festivals (at least according to Pentateuchal ideals).

How often does one have to attend church to fulfill Hebrews 10:23-25?  The Israelites only gathered together as one body three times a year.  There, they would celebrate with their families while sharing their food with the vulnerable of society.  And they would remember their national history as God’s people: their slavery in Egypt, the Exodus, their experiences in the wilderness, and God bringing them to the Promised Land.

But what about the rest of the year?  They wouldn’t be with the entirety of Israel, but they would still be reminding themselves on a weekly basis about their identity as God’s people, for they would keep the Sabbath.  They would also observe God’s dietary laws and wear items that reminded them of who they were in relationship with God.  Did they gather with others throughout that time, however, albeit on a local basis?  I don’t know.  Exodus 16 says that the Israelites on the Sabbath had to stay in their homes, and orthodox Jews still take that command as normative, which is why they have eruvim as a way to circumvent it and allow them to meet together.  At least some Israelites visited the prophet on the Sabbath (II Kings 4:23), and perhaps that was for a worship gathering.  Such passages as Isaiah 66:23 present a scenario of people gathering before God on the Sabbath.  And there were gatherings for worship outside of the central sanctuary, for Deuteronomy 16:7-8 seems to command local gatherings to celebrate the last Day of Unleavened Bread.  Maybe there were local gatherings for worship on the Sabbath.

But, even though not all Israelites may have gathered with others for worship on the Sabbath, three times a year is not exactly insignificant.  These festivals were significant events.  Israelites prepared for them throughout their seasons by sowing and reaping and setting apart their tithes and offerings.  They journeyed to the central sanctuary and rejoiced for a period of time.  It was not a forgettable event, in their minds, for they were salient times each year.

Back to Hebrews 10:23-25.  I’m not sure when one technically gets to the point where he or she is forsaking the assembly of the brethren.  Some act like missing one church meeting counts as that.  Others have a more liberal attitude.  What’s important to me, however, is the principle behind assembling: coming together to support each other, encouraging each other to do good, reminding each other of his or her identity before God, helping people to avoid becoming hardened by the deceitfulness of sin, etc. 

The problem is that not everyone sees church as a place that does this.  They find church to be discouraging rather than encouraging.  They see as much vanity and pride and carnality in the church as they see in the world.  They feel more refreshed and in touch with God when they are alone reading a book, or when they are out in nature, than they do in church.  I don’t think that it’s my place to pressure other people on what they should or should not do.  I attend church, however, because it allows me to remind myself of God, plus it gives me an opportunity to get out of the house and be in a different setting.  I’ve gone through times when I have been in churches, and when I have been outside of them.  For myself, I prefer the former.

Servant or Slave?

For its Bible study, my church is going through John’s Gospel: Wisdom from Ephesus, with Michael Card.

Last night, the group was talking about whether Jesus was a servant or a slave.  Michael Card, if I recall correctly, was saying on the DVD that Jesus was like a slave when he was washing the disciples’ feet.  But some of the people in the group had problems with calling Jesus a slave, preferring instead to call Jesus a servant.  For one, a slave does whatever his master tells him, but Jesus is not bound by our orders.  (Still, someone in the group noted that Jesus obeyed his Father.)  Second, one person was saying that a slave obeys because he has to, whereas a servant helps others because he wants to.

I thought these were good points.  I doubt that they hold up in the Greek, for, when Jesus is said in Philippians 2:7 to have taken the form of a servant, the Greek word there is doulos, which often means a slave (see here).  One could perhaps say that Jesus is not completely a slave, but that the metaphor still holds some water because Jesus, like a slave, serves.  Or perhaps one could say that Jesus being a servant is voluntary on his part.

What’s important, of course, is what someone in the group said: Many people tend to ask what they can get out of something rather than what they can give.  I know that’s true of me.  And that is one reason that I go to church and Bible study: to be reminded of a better way, and to interrupt my selfish thought-patterns.

Aaron Jastrow’s Sermon

I finished Herman Wouk’s The Language God Talks: On Science and Religion.

At the end of the book, Wouk quotes the sermon of Professor Aaron Jastrow, who was a character in Wouk’s book, War and Remembrance.  As I read the sermon, it seemed familiar to me, and that was because my family watched the War and Remembrance miniseries when it was on TV in 1988.  The miniseries was jarring to me at the time because it was the first time when I saw on television a depiction of the Holocaust, and I remember that I cried when Jews (including Professor Jastrow) were being gassed in the concentration camp.  I recall that Professor Jastrow was reciting Psalm 23 as he went to his death.

Professor Jastrow in his sermon spoke about Job.  Jastrow’s assumption was that Job was a Jew, which is not explicitly in the biblical text.  But his main point was that the Jews themselves are like Job, in that they praise God even when the universe does not make sense.  After my family watched the sermon scene, my Dad said that it was a good sermon.

I recently watched the miniseries’ depiction of the speech on YouTube (see here), and it was more pious than what I read in Wouk’s quotation of the sermon in The Language God Talks, for Jastrow in the book questions whether God’s reason for allowing the Satan to afflict Job (namely, to meet the Satan’s challenge) was a good enough reason.  But the main point in the book’s version of the sermon is the same as what was on the miniseries.

Although I finished The Language God Talks, I may still write another post about it, maybe even two.

A Tiny Speck in a Vast Universe

For my write-up today on Herman Wouk’s The Language God Talks: On Science and Religion, I’d like to feature Wouk’s quotation of theoretical physicist Richard Feynman on page 65.  Feynman states:

“It doesn’t seem to me that this fantastically marvelous universe, this tremendous range of time and space and different kinds of animals, and all the different planets, and all these atoms with all their motions, and so on, all this complicated thing can merely be a stage so that God can watch human beings struggle for good and evil—-which is the view that religion has.  The stage is too big for the drama.”

Some of what Feynman says is actually compatible with certain sentiments in the Bible.  The Psalmist in Psalm 8 asks “What is man, that Thou art mindful of him?”  God in the Book of Job essentially tells Job that human beings are not the center of the universe, for God pays attention to other aspects of nature, as well.  And why not?  God is a creative God.  Would it be so unlikely that God would create creatures and other aspects of nature for his own satisfaction, even if they don’t relate that much to human beings?

But I can understand why people might ask: Why are human beings so small—-not just small, but infinitesimal—-in a vast universe?  Doesn’t that conflict with any religious notion that God is so concerned about the human struggle for good against evil?  Moreover, in Romans 8:19-22, Paul affirms that the entire creation groans and waits for the manifestation of the sons of God, when the creation will be freed from its corruption.  So is the entire universe affected by events pertaining to people who live on an infinitesimal planet? 

My Armstrongite heritage, as I understand it, interpreted Romans 8:19-22 to mean that sons of God would rule over their own planets in the new heavens and the new earth.  Or something to that effect.  When many of us consider outer space, what strikes many of us is its futility.  There is so much space out there that lacks intelligent life.  It all appears rather meaningless!  But, according to my Armstrongite heritage, this will not be the case in the new heavens and the new earth; rather, that space will be populated with life.  And the sons of God, which Christians will become, will be involved in bringing about and supervising this entire process.

Whether Paul himself had that sort of vision, I’m not entirely sure.  When I was in a New Testament Greek class, my professor said that what Paul probably had in mind was things such as deserts, which are futile.  Paul was probably echoing certain prophets in the Hebrew Bible, who held that God would one day replenish the deserts and bring forth life on them.  But didn’t biblical authors believe that human beings were small in comparison to the vast cosmos, for the Psalmist in Psalm 8, after all, asks what is man, that God is mindful of him?  In a sense, they probably did.  I doubt that they envisioned what scientists know now—-that the earth is a tiny speck in a vast universe.  My hunch is that the biblical authors believed in a universe that was much smaller than what we today know to be the case.  But they could still look at the stars at night, notice how many they were, and feel rather small.

But perhaps Paul and the author of Psalm 8 had only a limited insight, not only into the extent of the cosmos, but into the extent of God’s plan.  Maybe God some day will replenish outer space, and the sons of God will be involved in that process.  One problem that I had with Armstrongite discussion of this issue was the dogmatism that often accompanied it: that Christians who did not believe that way were looked down upon.  I wondered what right Armstrongites had to be so smug and dogmatic, when there’s no text in the Bible that explicitly says that believers will rule their own planets!  But God is a big God, and the universe is a vast place.  It may happen that the manifestation of the sons of God in the eschaton will lead to a dramatic transformation of the cosmos, as life comes out of apparent futility.

Pentecost and John 16:10

We celebrated Pentecost at my church this morning.  We sang songs about the liberating, creative, convicting, and yet gentle Spirit of God.  I especially liked one of the songs that we sang, “Spirit”, which went into the Holy Spirit’s activity from creation through Sinai, all the way to Acts 2.

We were reading John 16:7-14, which is about the Comforter, the Holy Spirit.  I’d like to highlight vv 8-11 in the King James Version:

“(8) And when he is come, he will reprove the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment:  (9) Of sin, because they believe not on me;  (10) Of righteousness, because I go to my Father, and ye see me no more; (11) Of judgment, because the prince of this world is judged.”

I think that I understand v 9: the Holy Spirit convicts people of the sin of not believing in Christ.  And I can somewhat understand v 11: the Holy Spirit is informing people that the prince of this world is judged.  But I don’t quite get v 10: what does the Holy Spirit convicting people of righteousness have to do with Jesus going to his Father?  Let’s check some commentaries!

One point that John Gill makes is that Jesus’ ascension to heaven and subsequent sending of the Holy Spirit vindicated his own (meaning Jesus’) righteousness against those who accused him of unrighteousness.  Other Christian commentaries offer similar thoughts.

The Nelson Study Bible states: “of righteousness: After Christ’s departure the Holy Spirit would convict the world of the nature of righteousness and the need for righteousness. Jesus’ work on the Cross was completely righteous. This is demonstrated by the Father’s emptying of the tomb, signifying His satisfaction with the righteous payment and His acceptance of Christ into His presence.”  In this view, Jesus’ ascension affirms the righteousness of what Jesus did on the cross, as well as God’s recognition of Jesus’ saving work for the saints.

John MacArthur states in his MacArthur Study Bible: “righteousness. The Holy Spirit’s purpose here is to shatter the pretensions of self-righteousness (hypocrisy), exposing the darkness of the heart (3:19–21; 7:7; 15:22, 24). While Jesus was on the earth, He performed this task especially toward the shallowness and emptiness of Judaism that had degenerated into legalistic modes without life-giving reality (e.g., 2:13–22; 5:10–16; 7:24; Is. 64:5, 6). With Jesus gone to the Father, the Holy Spirit continues His convicting role.”  I don’t particularly care for MacArthur’s characterization of Judaism here, but I can see his overall point about the meaning of John 16:10: the Holy Spirit is carrying on Jesus’ work of convicting the world of righteousness, now that Jesus has ascended to heaven and is no longer physically on earth to do his convicting work.

Which of these interpretations do I prefer?  Well, I’d like to interpret John 16:10 in light of themes within John’s Gospel itself.  I’m hesitant to interpret it in reference to the doctrine of the substitutionary atonement, for I’m not certain that this doctrine is in John’s Gospel.  I’m open to correction on this, but Jesus in John 12:32 seems to posit a moral-influence view of the atonement: Jesus, in being lifted up on the cross, draws people to him, perhaps through his demonstration of love.

But I’m open to some of the other interpretations of John 16:10: the Holy Spirit continues Jesus’ work of convicting the world now that Jesus is in heaven, or the Holy Spirit affirms that Jesus’ righteousness was affirmed by Jesus’ ascent into heaven.