Protestant Presuppositions about Scripture: The Doctrine of Sufficiency and 2 Timothy 3.16-17

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A. G. Messer, Ph.D.

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Since my recent transition from Protestantism to Catholicism, I have become aware of Gavin Ortlund, whose video blogs are filled with interesting topics and, even better, are truly conducted with an ecumenical spirit. I am grateful for examples like this.

In his videos, Gavin winsomely represents Protestant positions and recommends resources (e.g., book recommendations) to his audience. One is a book called The Church of Rome at the Bar of History by William Webster. Webster has authored other books such as The Matthew 16 Controversy. I decided to do a series of posts about the material.

This post may be too technical for many readers. It’s for those who value careful interaction with the details of the New Testament text, and for those who wish for light to be shed on the presuppositions they may not currently be able to see.

My response to “Chapter 1: The Authority of Scripture” will be broken into two installments to address the two topics that feature in the chapter: the sufficiency of Scripture and canon. In a later post, I will tackle canon. In this post, I will focus upon the assumptions that are operating in Webster’s exposition of 2 Timothy 3.16-17. I will argue that to base the idea that Scripture is sufficient for all Christian endeavors upon this passage is a lot like an elephant trying to balance on a stool with just two legs . . . made of cardboard . . . in a puddle.

What Does 2 Timothy 3.16-17 Mean?

“All [πᾶσα] Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable [ὠφέλιμος] for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, that the man of God may be [ᾖ] complete [ἄρτιος], equipped [ἐξηρτισμένος] for every good work.” (2 Timothy 3:16-17, ESV)

Webster’s reference to this passage is reasonable. It comprises a mainstay of the Protestant conviction that Scripture alone should be the only authority used in the Christian pursuit of theological knowledge and practice. This is known as the doctrine of the sufficiency of Scripture.

A good starting point for any evaluation of this claim is to recognize that, despite claims to the contrary, no communion, whether Catholic or Protestant, truly treats Scripture as sufficient. If it were, it would also be perspicacious (i.e., clear in its meaning), for if not perspicacious, it is not adequate in itself to interpret itself, and thus we must look outside of Scripture, defeating the claim from the start. To be sufficient is to require perspicacity. Yet each tradition, whether it be Lutheran, Presbyterian, Methodist, or Pentecostal, employs material(s) which interpret and teach the Scriptures in the ways they wish. For Lutherans, in addition to those, also the Augsburg Confession, the Smalcald Articles, and the Formula of Concord. For the Anglicans, the Thirty-Nine Articles. For Calvin, his Institutes. For Calvinists and Zwinglians, a variety of confessions, most from local, separate synods: Canons of Dordt, the Tetrapolitan Confession was adopted by the four cities of Strasbourg (modern France), Constance (modern Germany), Memmingen, and Lindau (both cities in modern Bavarian Germany); Three Helvetic Confessions were adopted by the Helvetic peoples (modern Switzerland); and other confessions known to the localities of Paris, the Netherlands, Dessau (in Anhalt, Germany), and Kassel (in Hessen, Germany). Evangelical churches and seminaries typically call their confessions “doctrinal statements”.

The important realizations here are that any material used to teach Scripture becomes interpretive literature, and anything passed along, no matter how recently-conceived, is a tradition. This means that all material used in the teaching process is an interpretive tradition. By using these materials, Christian groups make an interpretive tradition the point of access for what they believe Scripture means, and it becomes the primary voice in the transmission of faith and morals. It is naïve to think that Catholics alone are guilty of this and to think that Scripture can be approached without an interpretive layer. So proper perspective is not gained by asking whether Scripture or tradition is primary. It comes by a recognition of which interpretive traditions are being used to interpret Scripture and then determining which are the most reliable?

For Protestants, our passage is used as a sort of first principle, and they (generally) believe that the doctrine of the sufficiency of Scripture follows from the ideas in 2 Tim. 3.16-17; notably, that Scripture is “sufficient” for thoroughly equipping the Christian for every good work. While I once held this view, I have since developed a fuller appreciation of the assumptions in play here—not least the connection between these two ideas. Even if Scripture was sufficient to thoroughly equip the Christian for every good work, it does not necessarily mean that Scripture alone should be the only authority used in the Christian pursuit of theological knowledge and practice. In any case, a number of interpretive decisions, based upon identifiable assumptions, must be made for either idea to be demonstrated. Most Protestants could stand to be a little more honest about the existence of these assumptions, about the plausibility of other interpretations, and about what it might mean for the doctrine of the sufficiency of Scripture if they are wrong on any one of them.

As a Protestant, I failed to recognize that other interpretations enjoy greater historical and textual support and are more resilient in the face of error. This is because the Protestant conclusion depends not only upon the correctness of all the assumptions. The doctrine of the sufficiency of Scripture, which is wholly consonant with (if not tantamount to) the Protestant position, depends upon a series of cascading assumptions with decreasing probabilities at each step. Other interpretations do not suffer from such weaknesses.

Here are some pertinent assumptions in play:

Webster’s argument for sufficiency assumes a fixed canon. He has in mind the Protestant Bible with 66 books, and 27 of them are New Testament books. This is important because the “Scripture” he means is not the same as the “Scripture” that Paul and Jesus are referring to.

Here is evidence of an ahistorical perspective. When Paul speaks of the “scriptures” in 2 Tim. 3.16, he means the Old Testament. And whatever effect we may expect (e.g., equipping Christians), the Old Testament is its cause (or one of them). Webster admits that Paul is referencing the Old Testament, yet he claims that we must include the New Testament because “in 2 Peter 3:16 Peter refers to Paul’s writings (including this epistle to Timothy) as Scripture” (2). Is this a good reason? Knowing that Paul is speaking of the OT, why should we re-target his reference to a canon that includes the New Testament? What has Peter’s assessment to do with Paul’s meaning? Why should we allow Peter, who is simply telling us that what Paul writes (i.e., to regard the patience of the Lord as our salvation) is trustworthy, to change Paul’s meaning?

Webster says, “As Jesus is Lord over the Church, the Church must not only accept his teaching on the Scriptures; it must also adopt the same attitude towards them that he did. His entire life was submitted to the authority of Scripture” (5). Most Catholics would agree with one reading of this, but Webster presses Jesus toward sufficiency: “Jesus clearly taught that Scripture is . . . an all-sufficient rule of faith” (5). Now, although the Gospels portray Jesus with very high regard for Scripture, he never uses terms or phrases that imply sufficiency. The only argument that can really be made, and Webster makes it, is this: “we can see that Scripture was all-sufficient for Jesus by how he uses it, and it ought to be all-sufficient for us too.” And Webster shows that Jesus used it in a way that shows he viewed it as inspired and authoritative, and I might add, unbreakable (“Scripture cannot be broken”) and unfading (“the flower fades . . .”) and expecting meticulous fulfillment (“no jot or tittle . . .”), et al.

But there are two cardinal problems here. First, again, none of these characteristic implies “sufficiency” as Protestants view it. Second, the Scripture to which Jesus points, and to which his attitude of submission is directed, is the Old Testament only! So if we are to imitate our Savior’s beliefs and attitudes about Scripture exactly, as Webster suggests, we would need to excise the New Testament. Another way to say this would be: if we wish to include the New Testament in the canon of Scripture, we cannot appeal to Jesus or Paul in any simplistic manner because the books we wish to include were not the books to which Jesus and Paul referred! Our Scripture is not the same as theirs!

And if we wish to include the New Testament in the Christian canon, as we all do, we have to be honest about what this means. We cannot deny that the decision to include the apostolic writings was neither given by the Old Testament nor by Jesus. Consequently, we cannot deny the role of the early church in that decision, and therefore, we cannot deny that the canonization process is itself an act of tradition and that our confidence in what comprises that canon is only as good as our confidence in that tradition. In a later post, I plan to elaborate on how the “traditioning” of the canon was a process that worked itself out over the centuries.

Obviously, if the OT can do the trick, then the OT plus the NT can too, so interpretations of this passage that wrap the NT into the Scriptures do not lose the material by which people are equipped. But by forcing the NT into the equation while making the claim of sufficiency (rather than, say, usefulness) makes the New Testament essential to that sufficiency. Thereby, this denies Paul’s original premise; namely, that the OT is up to the task all by itself!

Moreover, to argue for sufficiency and include the NT represents a logical jump that involves assumptions, uncertain exegesis, invalid lexicography, maneuvers inconsistent with the claim, and theological interpolation. The reasoning goes like this:

  1. Paul says “every Scripture” (i.e., referring to the scriptures of the OT) is “sufficient” [invalid lexicography] to equip the saints for all good works.
  2. Peter says “Paul’s letters” should be included in “Scripture” [uncertain exegesis]
  3. “Paul’s letters” would have included 2 Timothy at the time Peter wrote [assumption]
  4. Therefore, Christians should understand the “Scripture” of this passage to also include the New Testament [illegitimate transfer of referent, owing to systematic considerations which trump biblical theology, which represents a maneuver inconsistent with the claim of sufficiency].
  5. Therefore, the OT and NT, and only the OT and NT [theological interpolation], are sufficient to equip the saints for every good work.
  6. By “every good work” Paul means all decisions and development in the domains of faith and morals too [assumption]. This first assumption is bolstered by a second, namely, that the context of the individual’s ethical development and interpersonal relations are not confined to the categories of the individual and ethical but apply also to other contexts (e.g., communal, church-wide actions and decisions, to which belong many issues of faith and morals) [assumption].
  7. Therefore, only the OT and NT are determinative for faith and morals.

The jumps in logic are often driven by the unreflective assumptions of a later vantage point in history–one that has never known anything but a fixed biblical canon.

And the logical jumping is not necessary. When read historically, the most straight-forward interpretation is that Paul means that the OT is profitable to the end he intends. This undermines the position of those who argue for sufficiency; namely, that 66 books, and those books alone, comprise the canon of Scripture that can ultimately maturate Christians. Obviously, nobody who wants to derive the doctrine of sufficiency from this passage would be content if the NT wasn’t included.

Nor is this logical jumping entirely consistent. It must be asked: if at a later point, more material (i.e., the New Testament) can be added to what’s necessary for the equipping, why can’t more material (say, creeds and traditions) be added? Now the Protestant will reply, “only Scripture can be added.” Fair enough, that establishes a criterion to deny creeds and later traditions, but it doesn’t explain what gave us the right to add material and change Paul’s meaning in the first place. This maneuver can only seem reasonable to a mindset that scrunches the first two centuries (or longer) of the church together, that views the apostles as having everything (including Scripture) planned out from the start, and that views that Scripture as a fixed canon that fell out of this early period complete in form. But to one concerned with history, this mindset is not justifiable.

Moreover, there are reasons to question whether Peter’s statement about Paul’s writings (point #2 above) (a) were intended in a way that targeted the making of the Christian canon, (b) included 2 Timothy at all, or (c) were viewed on the same level as the OT Scriptures. One, the English reader must consider that the same Greek word (γραφαί) can mean “scriptures” or just plain “writings”. Peter may just have been referencing Paul’s “writings”, and only the writings about which he knew (which may not have included 2 Timothy), without making a statement that they ought to be considered as Scripture or canonized (even if he believed it). And it may be that Peter was only referencing those writings of Paul which pertained to the topic at hand (cf. “[Paul’s letters] when he speaks in them of these matters”).

Two, the phrase “the rest of the Scriptures” (τὰς λοιπὰς γραφὰς), from which might be inferred that Paul’s were the “initial part” of the Scriptures, does not necessarily imply that Peter viewed Paul’s writings as Scripture. As a good commentary will reveal (e.g., ICC), the Greek term λοιπὰς, in secular literature and even Scripture itself (cf. 1 Thess. 4.13), can refer to two referents (e.g., Paul’s writings and the Scriptures) in a way that doesn’t mean the category of the former applies to the latter or vice versa.

In other words, although English readers are apt to read “the other Scriptures” to mean that Peter views Paul’s writings as Scripture, this sense is not necessary in the Greek. The phrase could instead be translated as “the genuine Scriptures”, which for English readers would rightly protect against the perception that Peter means to include Paul’s writings in with the OT Scriptures, but it would also wrongly imply that Paul’s writings are inauthentic as Scriptures (which isn’t Peter’s point either). The phrase could be rendered “the other writings“, which helps to downplay the whole question about what Peter intended to include or exclude from the Scriptures. But we would need to posit a reasonable referent for those writings that isn’t the OT—perhaps a growing collection of known apostolic writings, potentially different in each locale? Each of these renderings prompts some misdirection when it comes over into English.

My main point is simply to say that Peter may merely be saying, “the ignorant and unstable twist Paul’s letters as they twist the Scriptures, to their own destruction.” If so, he isn’t making any attempt in this text to address how Paul’s letters ought to be viewed, let alone establish the canon.

But there is a more pertinent point to be made about what Peter is saying about Paul’s writings, one that Protestants, including Webster, need to take more seriously. Whatever unclear implications for canon may be present or absent in Peter’s prose, we cannot escape the one clear assertion: Paul’s writings are “difficult to understand” (δυσνόητά). There are really no other glosses for the word. There have been speculations about what specific ideas Peter was referring to. To become familiar with modern Pauline studies is to get a front-row seat on this. But we don’t know for certain which ideas those are. Until we do (which may never be possible), this is a pervasive and underappreciated problem for those who rely more upon Paul’s writings than the Gospels and other apostolic writings.

Now, in good will efforts, the better Protestant argument would seem to be to assert that Paul did intend to include not just the Old Testament but the apostolic writings as well. This would require attributing to Paul a certain foresight and forward-thinking in the use of proleptic (looking-ahead) speech to articulate an unfulfilled referent (i.e., to include NT writings still unknown) at the time of writing, but these are not impossible prerequisites to argue. Perhaps Paul was given a vision about it? He had visions. Second, while it can never be more than an argument from silence, any position that argued that Paul didn’t have a vision would suffer from the same. Third, while the argument seems less historically plausible to me, at least it is saved from the string of exegetical and theological concerns associated with arbitrarily expanding the referent of “every Scripture” to something broader than Paul intended.

Maybe through visions Paul did mean to include everything that would become the NT. Maybe he meant to include John’s Apocalypse, written in the 90s, and the Gospel of Luke and John, all written after he was martyred in 67 CE, yet also not include his own epistles that were lost to history, such as his other correspondence with the Corinthians. That is to say, maybe Paul did mean to reference future, unwritten Gospels, epistles, and apocalypses, and to exclude his lost epistles. As a former Protestant, I was amenable to this, but I didn’t realize that this suggested that Paul was relying upon the future decisions of the church to put in what belonged and leave out what didn’t. Aside from this troubling suggestion and the historical implausibility of it, at least it would allow the final proposition Protestants want. But it would only do so if and only if the remaining assumptions all prove true too, and this is the fly in the ointment (see remaining assumptions).

Implication: If we cannot include the New Testament in the “every Scripture” of 2 Tim. 3.16, we cannot use this verse to make the 66 books of the Protestant canon the sole and sufficient source for all matters of faith and morals. Still on the table is whether we can use this passage to make the Old Testament sufficient to this purpose.

For the Protestant doctrine of the sufficiency of Scripture to stand on this verse for support, the verse must imply that the Scriptures alone are sufficient for the ends in question, namely, to equip Christians for every good work. Now, Webster is aware that the verse does not say “sufficient”, but he wants to attach this verse to the larger constellation of verses that seem to imply, for him, sufficiency. While I am completely amenable to looking at the sum testimony of Scripture, the question at hand here is specifically whether this verse supports the sufficiency he would like to read into it and base his Protestant doctrine of sola fide upon.

First, note that he is aware that the term ὠφέλιμος does not mean “sufficient”. In fact, there is a world of difference between “profitable” and “fully sufficient in and of itself”–which is how many Protestants wish to take it. Our best lexicons document the spectrum of meanings it takes on: “helpful”, “profitable”, “advantageous”. “Sufficient” is not among those options. This is a significant problem in an argument that would have this verse be used to support (let alone establish) the sufficiency of Scripture. I’m not sure there is even one instance in Scripture or the Hellenistic world where this word is taken to mean “sufficient”, but let’s assume we could find some that our best lexicons have missed. It can only ever be the context that could approve of this meaning, and interpreters need to be careful that the sense isn’t coming entirely from that context. But let’s assume we find some legitimate instances. We are still faced with a problem: How certain can we be in 2 Tim. 3.16 that Paul means it in this minority sense? There isn’t anything in the context that demands the sense of “sufficient” over the less-strained option “profitable”. It would seem the only motivation to choose this minority sense (if it exists) is the Protestant impulse to establish the doctrine of the sufficiency of Scripture. This is highly suspect from lexicographic and argumentative standpoints.

Implication: No lexical option exists to render ὠφέλιμος as “sufficient”; therefore, we must remain open, in the training process, to agents of spiritual growth outside Scripture. This is how all Protestant groups actually behave in practice.

Webster says, “The word Paul uses for adequate is artios, which means ‘complete’ (or ‘perfect’). So Paul is arguing that the Scriptures are sufficient [italics mine] for an individual to be perfectly equipped for knowing and doing the will of God in the areas of faith and morals . . .” (3).

The short response is that the word ἄρτιος is, like many words, elastic in its force. So it is that it may mean “complete” or something less than complete. But the important point here is that Webster has smuggled the idea of sufficiency into his conclusion. If I’m not mistaken, this is the first use of the word “sufficient” in the chapter. Obviously, if Assumption 2 proves false (and it is demonstrably false), then even if Paul has in mind the perfection of the Christian, Scripture is only “useful” for that end. This is a long ways from the meaning “sufficient”.

But let’s assess how likely it is that Paul here means Christian perfection, and how likely it is that he sees the Scriptures as the sole source and criterion of that alleged perfection. The Greek terms ἄρτιος and ἐξηρτισμένος are etymologically related. The first is an adjective; the second a participle.

With respect to the adjective ἄρτιος, it is used only once in Scripture (and the participle just twice). This gives us almost no Scriptural data for comparison. According to our lexicons, its secular use in the Graeco-Roman world pertains to appropriateness, fittingness, or maturity. Other glosses include “full-grown” or “of sound body and mind” (cf. LSJ, s.v.). An arrangement of its glosses implies a spectrum, along which various forms of competence may be plotted: capable, suitable/adequate, prepared/ready, proficient, or perfectly-suited. We needn’t fuss about their order, as each may imply a different strength of competence to different people, but in all glosses, the idea seems to be that the cause (i.e., “every Scripture”) can help to ready or mature the Christian for good works.

Let’s consider the difference between the English connotations of “so that the man of God may be complete for every good work” and “so that the man of God may be ready for every good work”. One sounds stronger, and that term would seem to give far more credit to the role of Scripture, such that to deny the stronger would seem to slight Scripture. The last thing I want is to minimize the importance of Scripture in the Christian’s life, and I think we can agree that Paul has a very high estimation of its contribution to a Christian’s good works. But at the same time, we would be remiss if we failed to point out a conspicuous absence. There are no textual details implying a sense of exclusivity (i.e., terms or phrases involving “solely”, “only”, “alone”, “nothing else”, etc.). The passage does not say “Scripture alone”. So why isn’t it an option to see Paul teaching something less strained and more natural, namely, that the man of God will be equipped by Scripture and all other means necessary and helpful? Why shouldn’t it be an option to think that Paul believes Scripture could itself not only allow but motivate and encourage the use of all resources from the Church’s treasury of teachers, saints, and traditions, or even from the world’s repository of knowledge and insight, if it would aid in the accomplishment of a good work? For example, the discovery and production of penicillin is not anywhere outlined within the pages of Scriptures. The motive and passion to apply its benefits to the sick may be, but without Fleming’s discovery and laboratory work (and no doubt a host of other resources), penicillin would not exist.

With respect to the participle ἐξηρτισμένος, by virtue of its kinship with the adjective, it largely reinforces the same idea. It is rendered “thoroughly equipped” (NIV, NKJV), “equipped” (ESV, NASB, NRSV), or “proficient” (NRSV). The term can be rendered merely as “adequate”. Therefore, the strength of this term also exists along a spectrum, and one end of the spectrum leaves different impressions on the English reader than the other. For example, the difference between “equipped” and “thoroughly equipped” is one of measure. Either, or even weaker glosses, are possible. Which does Paul mean? We may never know on this side of heaven.

But here’s the crux. Even if we take it to mean “thorough equipping”, it does not aid the case for sufficiency because that case rests upon the characteristics of the cause rather than upon the purity of the result. That is, the most perfect result we might imagine (an equipping so thorough that God has nothing left to teach, every attempt succeeds, and humility is therefore optional) is dependent for its fulfillment upon what role Scripture is said to have in that process, which itself must be dictated by the word ὠφέλιμος in the prior clause. What role does Scripture play in the result? It is an ὠφέλιμος role. That term nowhere means “sufficient”. It means “useful”. Scripture is “useful” in producing the result. But when evaluating the plausibility of the doctrine of sufficiency, it really doesn’t matter how perfect that result is, because if Scripture isn’t the sole cause, it cannot be sufficient.

Catholics are open to whichever articulation of that result that seems closer to reality and good scholarship. It does, however, object when the routes used by the Christian to attain that end (e.g., the Church, the community, preaching, teaching, and tradition) are minimized or flatly denied. And, I would add, our common sense and everyday experiences tell us the same thing–we are better Christians, better equipped for good works, when we are taught, participate in community, and worship corporately along with Scripture than with Scripture alone.

Moreover, it is also worth noting that the better translation choice in 2 Tim. 3.16 for the phrase πᾶσα γραφή makes it theologically impossible for ἄρτιος to mean “perfection in equipping” (see Assumption 4).

Implication: The strength of these terms cannot be pinpointed with certainty. But even if it can be shown to entail absolute maturity (i.e., thorough equipping) in all domains of Christian experience, it does not support the doctrine of sufficiency because that doctrine depends not upon how we translate the result (i.e., an equipped man) but upon the exclusivity of the cause. And the only term which describes the role of the cause (see Assumption 2) does not signal sufficiency but usefulness.

There is a known exegetical issue present in 2 Tim. 3.16 that has to do with the adjective πᾶς. It is almost entirely hidden from the English reader because nearly every English version renders the word “all” (cf. ESV, NASB, NIV/TNIV, RSV/NRSV, NJB, KJV/NKJV, even the Catholic NAB). Two lone exceptions are the NET and CEV, which render it “every”. And these different translation options have very different implications. To say “all Scripture is profitable” is very different from “every Scripture is profitable”. The former implies a canon, as if all of the various “scriptures” are collected and being referenced together. The latter implies just the opposite. It assumes that there are many scriptures (e.g., Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Matthew, Acts, and Romans, etc.), and each one is profitable for the Christian. While either translation is possible, normal grammatical usage would require that if “all” had been intended, it would have had an article before it (cf. Wallace, Greek Grammar Beyond the Basics, 313n53). If so, Paul either broke with convention or we have wrongly rendered it. It is more likely that we have wrongly rendered it because we are living on the other side of a fixed canon. And if it should be rendered “every scripture”, as I’m arguing that it should, then we cannot take the adjectives ὠφέλιμος or ἄρτιος to mean anything like “sufficient” or “perfectly mature” because, if we do, we are saying that potentially any and every little snippet of scripture, whether a whole book or one verse, is sufficient to make the Christian perfectly mature. This directly affects Assumption 2 and Assumption 3.

Implication: Unless Paul ignored the articular conventions of Koine Greek, v. 16 should begin “every Scripture is profitable . . .” This would disallow, on theological grounds, the adjectives ὠφέλιμος and ἄρτιος from meaning “sufficient” and “thoroughly equip”.

The assumption is that the condition exclusively causes the result without any outside forces or considerations. In 2 Tim. 3.17 we have this construction: ἵνα + a subjunctive verb (here, ᾖ). The idea is that a condition or event is present or done (in this case, Scripture) in order that (ἵνα) something else might become or result (ᾖ) (in this case, the equipping of the man of God). Now, the question is whether there is anything else that may need to be added to the condition (again, in this case, Scripture) for the result to exist, or whether we can make the assumption that this construction implies sufficiency. That it doesn’t imply any sufficiency can be clearly and simply seen from the same construction in 1 Cor. 1.10, “I appeal to you, brothers [the event] . . . that [ἵνα] all of you agree, and that there be [ᾖ] no divisions among you, but that you be united in the same mind and the same judgment” (ESV). Just because Paul made the appeal did not mean that the Corinthians instantly (or even eventually) had no divisions. Paul had in mind that they had hard work to do. Moreover, we know from 1 Clement 1.1 that the Corinthian church continued to have problems: “Dear brothers, because of the sudden misfortunes and calamities which have fallen upon us, one after another, we have been, we confess, somewhat tardy in turning our attention to the matters in dispute, and especially to the abominable and unholy schism, among you” (translation from Fathers of the Church 1, p. 9).

Or take 1 John 1.4, “And we are writing these things so that [ἵνα] our joy may be [ᾖ] complete.” Does John really mean that writing to his audience will make his joy complete without anything else–without Christ, the Holy Spirit, some confidence in his salvation, the brotherhood of the other apostles, the miracles he’d seen and performed, etc.? No.

Moreover, Paul uses the phrase “every good work” in five places, making factors other than Scripture the causes of succeeding in every good work. For example, in 2 Cor. 9.8, Paul says, “God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times, you may abound in every good work” (ESV). Here it is grace which makes a person sufficient for every good work. Now wait, is it Scripture or grace? 2 Timothy 2.21 says, “If anyone cleanses himself from what is dishonorable, he will be a vessel for honorable use, set apart as holy, useful to the master of the house, ready for every good work” (ESV). Now wait, it is Scripture, grace, or self-cleansing? Titus 1.16 says, “They profess to know God, but they deny him by their works. They are detestable, disobedient, unfit for any good work” (ESV). Now wait, is it Scripture, grace, self-cleansing, or acknowledging God by our works? Titus 3.1 says, “Remind them to be submissive to rulers and authorities, to be obedient, to be ready for every good work (ESV). Wait, so is it Scripture, grace, self-cleansing, acknowledging God by our works, or being obedient to God and our rulers and authorities? Perhaps all of the above? Either way, it is not merely Scripture that is the precondition.

Implication: There is nothing in the grammatical construction that would lead one to believe that Scripture, by itself, with no other influences or resources, is intended to exclusively equip a Christian.

The assumption is that the end listed here (i.e., “equipped for every good work”) represents all God’s intended ends for Christians and His Church, and “every good work” includes everything about the Christian life, at all times, in all domains of human experience (intellectual and non-cognitive). This is an expansive end state. The problems are two. First, the typical language of prose works differently than philosophical language. A philosophical interpretation of “every” would threaten to remove any and all limits that naturally belong to everyday, real-life situations. If you are in a store with your spouse getting butter, and every brand of butter in the store is on sale, and your spouse asks you how many butters are on sale, you may very well respond, “Every one of them.” Now, you do not mean “every one of them in the universe.” You mean “every one of them in the store.” The context has placed limits on how encompassing the “every” should be taken, and those limits didn’t need to be articulated. They are just understood. In 2 Tim. 3.16-17, the scope of the discussion pertains to spiritual development and readiness. Such an expansive outcome seems a bit out of proportion to the limiting scope within the verse. For example, scripture is deemed useful for just four activities. Are these four activities truly the only activities which produce an equipped Christian? Does long-suffering or persevering in love or sacrificial giving or martyrdom add anything? Probably. So it is more likely that Paul is using language like we use language–perhaps with a shared understanding about the natural limits of the words used, or perhaps using exaggerated language for effect. For example, “Son, if you go get me a soda pop out of the downstairs fridge, you’ll be my favorite kid,” or, “when you brush your teeth, the angels in the sky sing,” or, “every time we play chess, I destroy you,” or, “this hamburger is a slice of heaven,” or, “if you train hard, you will be ready for anything,” or, “if you read through the entire catechism, you’ll be able to answer any question thrown at you.” Well, no, not really. To interpret “every good work” to mean any conceivable problem or work in the universe may be stretching this passage well beyond its natural ethical focus.

Moreover, why should we assume that the equipping is solely direct equipping? Why should it not be a type of equipping that allows those trained to know when they need to reach beyond their natural limits? By way of analogy, when we train soldiers, once they are ready, they are said to be equipped for battle. Yet at war time, we do not send them out without gun, camouflage, grenades, and boots. That solider may be equipped, but he still needs to be (further) equipped. And this is a good way to think about it. The solider is equipped with the knowledge how to conduct himself in war, and he is equipped with enough wherewithal to know that he must further equip himself to actually succeed. Similarly, Scripture tells its warriors to “put on the full armor of God”. That armor includes truth, righteousness, readiness/preparation, faith, salvation, and finally, after such things, “the word of God”, which is usually taken to mean the Scriptures. Notice that truth is listed separately from the word of God. Notice also that to be equipped requires practices (e.g., preparation, righteousness), dispositions (e.g., faith), and positions (e.g., being saved), and such things are differentiated from Scripture. And the man of God is not equipped without them! This suggests that the Scriptures are not directly sufficient in and of themselves for the end Paul lists in 2 Tim. 3.16-17. They are only part of the equation–a necessary part, but only a part. This helps us to appreciate afresh why “profitable” would be a better gloss for ὠφέλιμος (cf. Assumption 2). Otherwise, Paul seems either contradictory or naïve.

It seems to me that evangelical hermeneutics does a poorer job of acknowledging the progressive, multi-stage, and sometimes indirect aspect of interpretation and Christian living. What do I mean? By way of example, even in English, “equipping” may be of several types. One direct; the other indirect. In the first, equipping is viewed from the perspective of the individual alone, as if on an island, with no other resources available. In the second, equipping is viewed from the perspective of the individual with all the resources available to him. Here it represents the capability and competence to handle a situation using all the resources available, and part of that handling may be the initial realization that one cannot properly handle the situation without resources he doesn’t have.

Consider the general who has waged war successfully a hundred times, called in to wage the next war against a new country. That general is equipped for war, and yet he knows that he needs more intelligence to form a strategy, avoid pitfalls, and eventually win. He seeks knowledge about enemy capabilities, strength, technology, terrain, and communication. Although these resources are outside of himself, is it fair to claim that he is not equipped to wage this war? Perhaps some will see it this way, but the point I’m making is that there is plenty of interpretive terrain here to illustrate that “equipping” does not intrinsically mean self-sufficiency.

Implication: So we have two sides of a coin in play. Scripture is truly useful for equipping men and women of God, but it isn’t sufficient. They don’t have everything that they need at the present moment, nor is just Scripture in view to complete that equipping.

This assumption also decides what Scripture is without any demonstration. Must it be the power itself rather than access to the power (i.e., to God). Doesn’t Scripture itself condemn this magical view in John 5.39-40, “You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that bear witness about me, yet you refuse to come to me that you may have life” (ESV). John’s words here are more likely to have been familiar with any fixed canon, since this was written long after Paul died, but he refers to the (plural) “scriptures”. But even if we allow this to refer to the whole canon, Jesus means to differentiate himself from the Scriptures. Clearly, He is the source of power. He is the source of life. He is the one who uses all resources at hand to bring His people to completion.

And so we may answer the following string of questions with the affirmation, “He is!” What if Scripture is a pointer to things beyond itself (e.g., God, Christ, the Holy Spirit, truth, the Church, teachers, tradition, preaching, etc.)? What if, when “Scripture” refers to itself (or parts of itself), it has in mind not knowing but working out its teachings by whatever means necessary? What if Scripture assumes the need and essential role for teaching, preaching, and tradition? What if obeying Scripture is accomplished by obeying entities outside Scripture to which Scripture points (e.g., God, the Church, tradition, etc.)? What if 2 Tim. 3.16-17 teaches that Scripture is useful for creating a set of educative, formative interactions (e.g., being taught, corrected, rebuked, and trained) that will, in the end, and when combined with all the other resources of the Church, offer the potential for a man or woman to become thoroughly equipped for Christian service, though it is not guaranteed nor necessarily ever recognizably complete? In other words, what if it is Christ who, through the Spirit, uses these educative processes to thoroughly equip even those who didn’t have our Scriptures, like, those people who wrote our Scriptures?

Implication: Many things can and should augment the role of Scripture in the process of bringing Christians to completion: the Holy Spirit, the church, teachers, tradition, creeds, preaching, etc. The doctrine of the sufficiency of Scripture excises the full set of resources available to the Christian.

The assumption is actually a bit more involved. It is this: to assert the authority of Scripture is to assert its sufficiency, and to assert its sufficiency is the same thing as mandating that the Bible be used as the exclusive source for Christian truth and practice. But no two of these are equivalent. Scripture can be authoritative without being sufficient for one purpose or another. For example, it clearly tells us, with authority, to baptize, but it has proven insufficient to convince everyone about the mode, timing, role, or meaning of baptism. Likewise, Scripture may be sufficient in something, say, the command to love, but this does not mean that it should be the only resource in play as we figure out how to understand and fulfill that command. Clearly, the love language of those we love, various non-Scriptural resources about Christian love, and our loved ones themselves would be very helpful to have.

Now, this assumption cannot readily be mapped to any textual feature of our passage. It exists within the theological structures in the minds of those who refer to and discuss this passage. For example, Webster begins well. He starts his chapter by arguing for the divine inspiration and authority of Scripture (something Catholics would completely agree with), and he uses 2 Tim. 3.16-17 successfully to do so. Again, Catholics and Protestants are on the same page with respect to inspiration and authority. But making Assumption 2, he suddenly claims, “So Paul is arguing that the Scriptures are sufficient for an individual to be perfectly equipped for knowing and doing the will of God in the areas of faith and morals . . .” (3). He reiterates elsewhere, “It [the sufficiency of Scripture] is the express teaching of Jesus Christ himself” (4). Then to argue for this, he again argues for the inspiration and authority of Scripture: “Jesus clearly taught that Scripture is inspired by God” (which he argues successfully) and “Jesus also used the Word of God as an ultimate standard of authority” (which he argues successfully) (5). The problem is that he seems unaware that to assert inspiration, authority (no matter how high), infallibility, inerrancy, historical reliability, or even all together, is not the same thing as to assert sufficiency.

He admits that Paul hasn’t used the word “sufficient”, so how does he get there? He seems to think that if something is useful for producing something “complete” (but see Assumption 6), it must be sufficient. But this is clearly an overstatement. If I were to say that the furnace was useful for the making of my crystalline swan, I would not be saying that the furnace alone did it or that nothing else was needed. Obviously I used both the glass and my tools. Yet why does this connection seem so strong to him? The primary reason, it seems to me, is the conflation to which I’m pointing. It is a Protestant conflation–an unprovable assumption that is also unlikely.

And the conflation is a sacred cow. Whenever it is pointed out, it evokes reactions that often regurgitate Reformation rhetoric, and this rhetoric obscures the real crux. For example, Webster says, “To argue, as the Roman Catholic Church does, that 2 Timothy 3.15-17 says that Scripture is profitable but not sufficient as a rule of faith is to twist its meaning in order to defend a man-made tradition. This is not a new phenomenon. The Pharisees, according to Jesus, misinterpreted Scripture in order to adhere to their tradition and condemned them for it” (3). Somehow, to point out that “useful” does not equal “sufficient” becomes twisting the passage’s meaning and replaying first-century Jewish crimes against Jesus. Despite the genius sophistry that associates valid observations with misleading Jewish interpretation, he reiterates the same narrative without any evidence at all: “The fact that Paul does not use the precise word ‘sufficient’ in the text just quoted in no way invalidates our statement. The sufficiency of Scripture, and therefore ‘sola scriptura‘, is implicit in what he says . . .” (3). There are a few interesting things to observe here.

First, he is claiming that 2 Tim. 3.16 implies the sufficiency of Scripture and sola scriptura. I did not make this up. That conflation is real, and many Protestants move rather instinctually and unreflectively from one characteristic of Scripture to another, pretending a certain logic connects the ideas. I describe this in the next point.

Second, here the jump from inspired and authoritative to sufficient is on full display. It happens without skipping a beat, and this is because it is a Protestant interpretive impulse. He also immediately jumps to the error of Catholic teaching. But what exactly is their error? The Catholic error seems to be that Catholic interpreters do not think it prudent to conflate inspiration and authority with sufficiency. I agreed with this Catholic clarification long before I became Catholic.

Third, he seems unaware that his viewpoint owes to a long-standing Protestant impulse, stemming from Protestant traditions and rhetoric, that prompts a specific interpretation of 2 Tim. 3.16-17. Webster thinks he is reading the unadorned message of Scripture apart from interpretation: “The Bible’s clear statement remains–Scripture is sufficient ‘for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training in righteousness; that the man of God may be adequate, equipped for every good work.’” But there is nothing clear about it. Scripture has not used the word “sufficient” (Webster concedes), nor have we yet been able to establish any evidence that the passage implies it. To claim otherwise is to beg the question rather than offer evidence. Because of this oversight, Webster never considers that the same claim might be thrown back at him; namely, that the Protestant viewpoint, which is based upon its own traditions and instincts, may just as easily represent the Jewish misinterpretation the Savior condemned. Wouldn’t it be better to leave this rhetoric behind and have more objective discussion about our passage? Let the questions become: Who has the more solid interpretation of 2 Tim. 3.16-17? Which interpretation is better supported by the textual details? Which is more dependent upon a string of unproven and unlikely assumptions?

Gaining Perspective

I’ve said much about the technical aspects of the above issues, but let’s wrestle with the overarching perspective a bit more. We need to recognize the situation for what it is. There are far too many and large difficulties for the doctrine of the sufficiency of Scripture to be established from 2 Timothy 3.16-17. There are eight problematic assumptions in play, most of which are improbable, altogether of which are very improbable, and any one of which dismantles the entire case for the doctrine. So the situation is one of cascading improbability.

None of these documented assumptions is demonstrable, and every claim that’s not demonstrable is interpretive. And so we’ve come to a final crux of the matter. Even if Scripture is sufficient to fully equip Christians for every experiential possibility, our interpretations of it are certainly not. The tragic failure to truly recognize this distinction is propping up much of popular Protestantism. It also explains why it is so easy for Protestants to accept the doctrine of sufficiency. Acceptance of the doctrine of the sufficiency of Scripture is inversely proportional to the denial of an infallible interpretive authority. That is, those who are prone to accept the sufficiency of Scripture find it easy to deny the reality and need for an infallible interpretive authority (because they don’t believe they need one). If Protestants began to more clearly differentiate Scripture from its interpretation, authority from sufficiency, and “could” from “must”, and if they began to see just how problematic their textual support is, we might enjoy discussion with new possibilities.

Let’s view this from an ecumenical perspective—one concerned about unity. It is first worth saying that Catholics and Protestants agree on the canonical status of 39 books of the OT and the entire NT, every jot and tittle. They agree that Scripture is essential, inspired, authoritative, and relevant. But the disagreement is over whether Scripture is “sufficient”. But what’s in a word? Protestants believe that Scripture is sufficient apart from things like creeds and traditions. As a Catholic, I actually do too, at least I believe it is sufficient for many things, if rightly interpreted. But as a historical theologian, knowing of the doctrinal conflicts over different interpretations of Scripture that the Church had to painstakingly work out in councils and creeds, knowing the various interpretations that have existed about one passage or another in different times and regions, and surveying the doctrinal diversity that exists today and is at its absolute historical worst within modern Protestantism, I cannot see Scripture as sufficient for every purpose under heaven. The plain facts tell otherwise.

But let’s assume that Scripture is “sufficient” for all matters of faith and morals. Would that necessarily translate into that it should be used that way, as if it were the only and best way to equip Christians? I would submit that no successful Protestant group has treated it like this. They have always taught Scripture via parochial publications and preaching.

This is because Scripture is not self-interpreting. And herein lies the strength of the Catholic position. The interpretation of Scripture inevitably employs tradition(s). Even Luther, the first-father of Protestantism, used catechetical material (i.e., an interpretive tradition) to order his theological priorities and presuppositions. This material decisively influenced the interpretations of Scripture made by his followers. There is just no escaping it.

The Catholic acknowledges this and knows that the real question, if there is to be a true interpretation at all, is: Which interpretive traditions should be used? In my estimation, this is the doorway. If there are interpretive traditions that must be known to properly interpret Scripture (e.g., the Nicene Creed or even Luther’s Larger Catechism), that means that there is an intrinsic and essential authority (perhaps of a different genus than Scripture) in those traditions, and that authority exists alongside Scripture. And if there is an intrinsic and essential interpretive authority that exists within tradition, why should we deny that tradition can carry aspects of vital importance to Christian practice and Church life?

I understand the Protestant concern about theological accretion, but should we let this concern weigh heavier than all the division and resulting impotence? I mean, let’s grant for the moment that some false accretion has happened. Let’s even grant that it has happened in those high profile doctrines like the papacy and Marian dogmas. Shouldn’t the Christian who cares deeply about the Church’s unity, and what it could mean for our witness to the world, ask this basic question: Are accretions that result in the veneration (not worship) of Mary, God’s chosen vessel to carry the Savior, and a single office that allows for and facilitates the worldwide unity and purity of the Church—are these really more egregious than ten thousand divisions based upon hundreds of heretical interpretations and the resultant disastrous effect on the Church’s witness?