Fridays are notoriously slow blog days, and yet lo! and behold!, our new Friday feature last week raked in a whopping 42 comments in a single day. Apparently where your treasure is, there your blogging will be also.
That said, I give you, in no specific order, the ten most tubular TV shows of the Eighties:
1. The A-Team: Imprisoned by a military court for a crime they didn’t commit, they promptly escaped from a maximum security stockade to the Los Angeles underground where they survive as soldiers of fortune. How they do it is anyone’s guess since they have never succeeded in actually shooting anyone with those guns they carry around.
2. Family Ties: Before they brought in Andy (who grew like four years over the course of a single summer), and before Tina Yothers’s head got really massive, this show was top-notch. Remember A.P.K.’s framed photo of Nixon by his bedside? And the bleeding heart of Steven Keaton cannot but shine as a beacon even still. And Scott Valentine’s Nick will live on for years to come, whispering in our hour of distress, “Hey. Al-lex.”
3. Manimal: Some guy turns into a panther for some reason. ‘Nuff said....
4. Mr. Belvedere: No more drips on the china or drop-kicking your jacket when you come through the door (who does that?), not on Lynn Belvedere’s watch. Brice Beckham really lit up the small screen as Wesley, whose perpetual battle with Mr. Belvedere should forever retain its rightful place in television history.
5. Diff’rent Strokes: Started out great, until Mr. Drummond changed his name to “George,” married some woman named “Ma’am,” and started calling his oddly small adopted black kid “Webster.”
6. Life Goes On: The Cork abides. I don’t know about you, but I take comfort in that—knowing Corky’s out there, takin’ her easy for all us sinners.
7. The Master: Lee Van Cleef as John Peter McCallister was just brilliant, with Timothy Van Patton as Max, the apprentice with the shady van complete with hamster and wheel. What is it about Dutch guys and Kung-Fu fighting?
8. The Facts of Life: When the boys you used to hate, you date, I guess you’d best investigate the facts of life (been sayin’ it for years). Remember the pre-Jo Polniaczek days when Tootie wore skates and Molly Ringwald was in the cast? And did you know that Nancy McKeon’s brother played Tommy on Alice?
9. It’s Your Move: Jason Bateman at his finest. A career like his is sort of above scrutiny, but I’m sure we’d all agree that he really hit his stride in those post-Silver Spoons, pre-Valerie days. Gotta love the Dregs of Humanity.
10. Knight Rider: Michael Knight, a young loner on a crusade to champion the cause of the innocent, the helpless, the powerless (too bad Zrim couldn't convince him that only Kuyperians believe in helping people and improving society). By the way, anyone remember the pilot where Michael and K.I.T.T. looked different?
Enjoy the nostalgia....
Friday, March 07, 2008
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Overthrow at the End of the Ages?
Let's get back to some theology, shall we?
There has been a good discussion over at Green Baggins about the nature of apostasy under the New Covenant. As you may know, our friends in the Federal Vision love to appeal to Paul's warning in I Corinthians 10 to demonstrate that the Old and New Covenants are virtually the same with respect to our experience of divine grace and the ability to resist temptation.
To the text....
What I find interesting is that, after telling his readers that Israel's "overthrow" in the wilderness is "written down for their instruction," Paul reminds the Corinthians that it is upon them that "the ends of the ages have come" (v. 11). He then warns them against haughtiness, after which he assures them that God will be faithful to his promises to them, not allowing them to be tempted beyond their ability, but with every temptation will provide a means of escape (v. 13). Then in vv. 14ff he starts talking about the Lord's Supper.
Hmmm....
There are passages in which Paul highlights continuity exclusively, and there are passages in which he focuses strictly upon discontinuity, but this is one of those texts where he expresses both (with the weight toward the former, to be sure).
But even here, where he draws an analogy between Israel's overthrow and our temptations, the apostle cannot resist mentioning that we are set apart from those who went before us in that the Spirit of the risen Christ has descended upon the New Covenant people of God and has served as a "Helper" in the midst of temptation.
My point is that we can no more easily draw a line straight from the Old Covenant community to ourselves than we can assume, without proving, that the only difference between the subject of Romans 7 and that of Romans 8 is his mood, disposition, or degree of covenant faithfulness.
There has been a good discussion over at Green Baggins about the nature of apostasy under the New Covenant. As you may know, our friends in the Federal Vision love to appeal to Paul's warning in I Corinthians 10 to demonstrate that the Old and New Covenants are virtually the same with respect to our experience of divine grace and the ability to resist temptation.
To the text....
What I find interesting is that, after telling his readers that Israel's "overthrow" in the wilderness is "written down for their instruction," Paul reminds the Corinthians that it is upon them that "the ends of the ages have come" (v. 11). He then warns them against haughtiness, after which he assures them that God will be faithful to his promises to them, not allowing them to be tempted beyond their ability, but with every temptation will provide a means of escape (v. 13). Then in vv. 14ff he starts talking about the Lord's Supper.
Hmmm....
There are passages in which Paul highlights continuity exclusively, and there are passages in which he focuses strictly upon discontinuity, but this is one of those texts where he expresses both (with the weight toward the former, to be sure).
But even here, where he draws an analogy between Israel's overthrow and our temptations, the apostle cannot resist mentioning that we are set apart from those who went before us in that the Spirit of the risen Christ has descended upon the New Covenant people of God and has served as a "Helper" in the midst of temptation.
My point is that we can no more easily draw a line straight from the Old Covenant community to ourselves than we can assume, without proving, that the only difference between the subject of Romans 7 and that of Romans 8 is his mood, disposition, or degree of covenant faithfulness.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Review of Kingdom Coming
This review of Michelle Goldberg’s Kingdom Coming: The Rise of Christian Nationalism was published in the most recent issue of Modern Reformation. Sorry for the length....
***
A self-described secular Jew and ardent urbanite, Michelle Goldberg takes her readers behind the scenes of a movement she has dubbed Christian Nationalism, a “totalistic political ideology” that begins with the idea that “the Bible is absolutely and literally true” and extrapolates from this “a total political program... a conflation of scripture and politics that sees America’s triumphs as confirmation of the truth of the Christian religion, and America’s struggles as part of a cosmic contest between God and the devil.” Christian Nationalism, Goldberg argues, “claims supernatural sanction for its campaign of national renewal and speaks rapturously about vanquishing the millions of Americans who would stand in its way.” The “ultimate goal” of this movement is not fairness but dominion: “The movement is built on a theology that asserts the Christian right to rule. That doesn’t mean that nonbelievers will be forced to convert. They’ll just have to learn their place.”
Although this reviewer’s usual reaction to reading the theologizing of atheists is similar to that of watching the blind juggle (i.e., amusement mixed with horror), I was both surprised and disturbed at the accuracy of Goldberg’s portrayal of Christian Nationalist leaders and the theology that compels them (surprised, because it’s not every day that I come across a Jew who can navigate the labyrinthine relationship between Tim LaHaye’s Dispensationalism, D. James Kennedy’s postmillennialism, and R.J. Rushdoony’s Reconstructionism; and disturbed, because she understands the relationship of eschatology to cultural vision more clearly than most Christians I know. More on this later…).
Among the topics Goldberg examines are Christian homeschooling and its importance for raising up the next generation of faithful conservative politicians and lobbyists, the revisionist history necessary to instill in us the myth of the evangelical piety of our nation’s Founding Fathers, the politics of homophobia, Intelligent Design, the elitism of faith-based initiatives for the poor, and the politics behind abstinence-only education. Goldberg points out the incredible irony of the fact that Christian Nationalism’s closest allies in these cultural battles are none other than Islamic fundamentalists. According to a story from The Washington Post (the headline of which read: “Islamic Bloc, Christian Right Team Up to Lobby U.N.”), “American evangelicals have made common cause with Islamists at the United Nations” to plot strategy on social issues. The lines defining good and evil, it seems, have been redrawn according to cultural, rather than religious, ideals. This is nothing new, of course. If many Protestant denominational distinctives have been sacrificed for the sake of waging a common cultural war, why stop there? Muslims, if anything, are certainly good in a fight.
Though the Jesus of Calvinism has been dubbed “The Transformer of Culture” by H. Richard Niebuhr in his seminal work Christ and Culture, the degree to which the Geneva reformer (or for that matter, the second Person of the Trinity) advocated social transformation as belonging to the church’s mandate is still an open question. What is not open to debate, however, is the Christian Nationalists’ interpretation of Jesus’ Great Commission to his disciples prior to his ascension to the Father’s right hand. Also closed is any discussion about the cultural content of that Commission, let alone the deeper issue of whether it contains such cultural content in the first place.
The Christian Nationalist political agenda, Goldberg points out, is essentially a baptized version of the talking points of the Grand Old Party. Though a robust critique of the movement’s underlying eschatology falls outside Goldberg’s purview or expertise—but she has plenty to say about its politics—it seems, to this reviewer anyway, that the differences between the politicized versions of pre- and postmillennialism pale in comparison to their glaring similarities. Both are consumed with power and the flexing of political muscle, and both are fearful of losing their influence and fading into cultural obscurity.
Throughout Kingdom Coming Goldberg both advocates a return to the rationalistic epistemology of the Enlightenment and assumes, somewhat naïvely, that such “objective” thinking will forever cure religious mankind of the need to force our cunningly devised fables upon our neighbors. The notion, for instance, that an evangelical scientist can have anything meaningful to say about cosmic origins is absurd in Goldberg’s estimation. An atheist biologist, on the other hand, has no ideological axe to grind, and therefore may speak authoritatively without having to recuse herself due to a conflict of interest.
Aside from the biased nature of Goldberg’s pretended lack of bias, her overall point is certainly well-taken: Christianity has been co-opted and its true aims commandeered for political ends, and narrow ones at that. Conspicuous by its absence from Christian Nationalist rhetoric is any actual defense of their understanding of what a Christianized society would look like. Instead, with a “wink wink” here and a “nudge nudge” there, we are exhorted to elect officials who will restore godliness and Christian virtue to our once-glorious land. “Godliness,” of course, really means unbridled capitalism, and “Christian virtue” is code for maintaining U.S. foreign policy and the War on Terror. But what about those Christians who don’t believe that America is under a national, conditional covenant with God like Israel was in time past? What about the thousands of sincere saints who don’t think the U.S. Constitution belongs in the ark of the covenant along with the tables of the Decalogue and Aaron’s rod that budded? And what about those believers whose eschatology precludes them from identifying the eternal concerns of the kingdom of Christ with the earthly affairs of the kingdom of man?
It is human nature to desire to unite with others of a like mind. What is often lacking is some banner or common cause to measure our like-mindedness and give us a reason to come together. While it is perfectly legitimate for fellow-citizens of the civil sphere to rally together for a social cause, or for brothers and sisters in Christ to celebrate their unity in the gospel, what is altogether illegitimate is to collapse these two kingdoms into one (a mistake Calvin called a “Jewish folly”). When we label our unity “Christian” while defining it by the bullet points of a political party (on either side of the aisle), we sacralize the secular, trivialize the sacred, and misconstrue the nature of Christianity as a civil religion whose first great commandment can be swallowed by the second.
By Jason J. Stellman
***
A self-described secular Jew and ardent urbanite, Michelle Goldberg takes her readers behind the scenes of a movement she has dubbed Christian Nationalism, a “totalistic political ideology” that begins with the idea that “the Bible is absolutely and literally true” and extrapolates from this “a total political program... a conflation of scripture and politics that sees America’s triumphs as confirmation of the truth of the Christian religion, and America’s struggles as part of a cosmic contest between God and the devil.” Christian Nationalism, Goldberg argues, “claims supernatural sanction for its campaign of national renewal and speaks rapturously about vanquishing the millions of Americans who would stand in its way.” The “ultimate goal” of this movement is not fairness but dominion: “The movement is built on a theology that asserts the Christian right to rule. That doesn’t mean that nonbelievers will be forced to convert. They’ll just have to learn their place.”
Although this reviewer’s usual reaction to reading the theologizing of atheists is similar to that of watching the blind juggle (i.e., amusement mixed with horror), I was both surprised and disturbed at the accuracy of Goldberg’s portrayal of Christian Nationalist leaders and the theology that compels them (surprised, because it’s not every day that I come across a Jew who can navigate the labyrinthine relationship between Tim LaHaye’s Dispensationalism, D. James Kennedy’s postmillennialism, and R.J. Rushdoony’s Reconstructionism; and disturbed, because she understands the relationship of eschatology to cultural vision more clearly than most Christians I know. More on this later…).
Among the topics Goldberg examines are Christian homeschooling and its importance for raising up the next generation of faithful conservative politicians and lobbyists, the revisionist history necessary to instill in us the myth of the evangelical piety of our nation’s Founding Fathers, the politics of homophobia, Intelligent Design, the elitism of faith-based initiatives for the poor, and the politics behind abstinence-only education. Goldberg points out the incredible irony of the fact that Christian Nationalism’s closest allies in these cultural battles are none other than Islamic fundamentalists. According to a story from The Washington Post (the headline of which read: “Islamic Bloc, Christian Right Team Up to Lobby U.N.”), “American evangelicals have made common cause with Islamists at the United Nations” to plot strategy on social issues. The lines defining good and evil, it seems, have been redrawn according to cultural, rather than religious, ideals. This is nothing new, of course. If many Protestant denominational distinctives have been sacrificed for the sake of waging a common cultural war, why stop there? Muslims, if anything, are certainly good in a fight.
Though the Jesus of Calvinism has been dubbed “The Transformer of Culture” by H. Richard Niebuhr in his seminal work Christ and Culture, the degree to which the Geneva reformer (or for that matter, the second Person of the Trinity) advocated social transformation as belonging to the church’s mandate is still an open question. What is not open to debate, however, is the Christian Nationalists’ interpretation of Jesus’ Great Commission to his disciples prior to his ascension to the Father’s right hand. Also closed is any discussion about the cultural content of that Commission, let alone the deeper issue of whether it contains such cultural content in the first place.
The Christian Nationalist political agenda, Goldberg points out, is essentially a baptized version of the talking points of the Grand Old Party. Though a robust critique of the movement’s underlying eschatology falls outside Goldberg’s purview or expertise—but she has plenty to say about its politics—it seems, to this reviewer anyway, that the differences between the politicized versions of pre- and postmillennialism pale in comparison to their glaring similarities. Both are consumed with power and the flexing of political muscle, and both are fearful of losing their influence and fading into cultural obscurity.
Throughout Kingdom Coming Goldberg both advocates a return to the rationalistic epistemology of the Enlightenment and assumes, somewhat naïvely, that such “objective” thinking will forever cure religious mankind of the need to force our cunningly devised fables upon our neighbors. The notion, for instance, that an evangelical scientist can have anything meaningful to say about cosmic origins is absurd in Goldberg’s estimation. An atheist biologist, on the other hand, has no ideological axe to grind, and therefore may speak authoritatively without having to recuse herself due to a conflict of interest.
Aside from the biased nature of Goldberg’s pretended lack of bias, her overall point is certainly well-taken: Christianity has been co-opted and its true aims commandeered for political ends, and narrow ones at that. Conspicuous by its absence from Christian Nationalist rhetoric is any actual defense of their understanding of what a Christianized society would look like. Instead, with a “wink wink” here and a “nudge nudge” there, we are exhorted to elect officials who will restore godliness and Christian virtue to our once-glorious land. “Godliness,” of course, really means unbridled capitalism, and “Christian virtue” is code for maintaining U.S. foreign policy and the War on Terror. But what about those Christians who don’t believe that America is under a national, conditional covenant with God like Israel was in time past? What about the thousands of sincere saints who don’t think the U.S. Constitution belongs in the ark of the covenant along with the tables of the Decalogue and Aaron’s rod that budded? And what about those believers whose eschatology precludes them from identifying the eternal concerns of the kingdom of Christ with the earthly affairs of the kingdom of man?
It is human nature to desire to unite with others of a like mind. What is often lacking is some banner or common cause to measure our like-mindedness and give us a reason to come together. While it is perfectly legitimate for fellow-citizens of the civil sphere to rally together for a social cause, or for brothers and sisters in Christ to celebrate their unity in the gospel, what is altogether illegitimate is to collapse these two kingdoms into one (a mistake Calvin called a “Jewish folly”). When we label our unity “Christian” while defining it by the bullet points of a political party (on either side of the aisle), we sacralize the secular, trivialize the sacred, and misconstrue the nature of Christianity as a civil religion whose first great commandment can be swallowed by the second.
By Jason J. Stellman
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Seattle: A Wretched Hive of Scum and Villainy?
In a classic case of pots calling kettles "black," the good folks at Forbes Magazine have listed the city of Seattle as one of the worst offenders with respect to those deadly sins of jealousy and greed.
As evidence for the latter, Forbes argues that
The damning nature of the evidence notwithstanding (!), I still wonder whether this city is the "wretched hive of scum and villainy" that is is sometimes portrayed as. I mean, this is the city that gained worldwide notoriety for protesting the World Trade Organization's ministerial meeting in 1999. This is the place where people eat Grape Nuts, live in trees, and worship Ralph Nader. Grunge was invented here for crying out loud.
Still, maybe David Brooks was right, maybe all the alternative and countercultural edginess of Seattle has been blissfully wedded to the tech and espresso industry to form the perfect amalgam of bohemian and bourgeoisie: The "Bobo."
But either way, Seattle is a mirror held up to the rest of the nation, and if this city is greedy, other cities are certainly jealous of that greed (how's that for irony?). Microsoft is here. So is Boeing, Amazon.com, Starbucks, and Costco. When it comes to big business, we certainly can hold a candle to just about anywhere.
But how the citizen of the heavenly Jerusalem is to navigate these earthly waters of Babylon, well, that's another question....
As evidence for the latter, Forbes argues that
"the Puget Sound region is the home to the richest man on the planet, Bill Gates, as well as Paul Allen and Steve Ballmer of Microsoft and Amazon.com's Jeff Bezos."Plus, lots of cars are apparently stolen, so, you know, jealousy's an issue up here as well.
The damning nature of the evidence notwithstanding (!), I still wonder whether this city is the "wretched hive of scum and villainy" that is is sometimes portrayed as. I mean, this is the city that gained worldwide notoriety for protesting the World Trade Organization's ministerial meeting in 1999. This is the place where people eat Grape Nuts, live in trees, and worship Ralph Nader. Grunge was invented here for crying out loud.
Still, maybe David Brooks was right, maybe all the alternative and countercultural edginess of Seattle has been blissfully wedded to the tech and espresso industry to form the perfect amalgam of bohemian and bourgeoisie: The "Bobo."
But either way, Seattle is a mirror held up to the rest of the nation, and if this city is greedy, other cities are certainly jealous of that greed (how's that for irony?). Microsoft is here. So is Boeing, Amazon.com, Starbucks, and Costco. When it comes to big business, we certainly can hold a candle to just about anywhere.
But how the citizen of the heavenly Jerusalem is to navigate these earthly waters of Babylon, well, that's another question....
Friday, February 29, 2008
Top Ten Albums of the Eighties
Things have been a bit, umm, heavy here at DRD of late, so maybe I'll start dedicating Fridays (which are slow blog days anyway) to some lighter fare.
Today, then, I give you, in no particular order, the ten best albums of the eighties (drom roll, please):
Today, then, I give you, in no particular order, the ten best albums of the eighties (drom roll, please):
Green by REMI know, I know, I left some great stuff off the list. But if I think about it too long it'll become a top 100, and I just don't have the time....
So by Peter Gabriel
Declaration by The Alarm
All of This and Nothing by The Psychedelic Furs
The Joshua Tree by U2
Porcupine by Echo and the Bunnymen
Urban Beaches by Cactus World News
Nothing Like the Sun by Sting
Kick by INXS
Synchronicity by The Police
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Of Roses and Rifles, Crescents and Crosses
As was pointed out in the last thread, there is a stubborn insistence on the part of many American Christians that our nation's immunity to cultural Babylonianism inevitably results in our being the number one exporter of happiness to the rest of the planet. God uses this country, we are told, to be a providential source of blessing to the entire globe.
I cannot help but wonder if what we export is received in the same spirit in which it is allegedly given (I mean come on, those roses with which the Iraqis were supposed to greet our soldiers sure ended up looking a lot like rifles). Is it possible that others may not be particularly fond of the blessings we keep trying to give them?
Just because we say, really loudly and with lots of force, that we are just trying to help, doesn't always make it so. There is greater reason to believe that intense persecution by Muslim fundamentalists would be a blessing to the American church than there is for the idea that an American-style government and culture would be a blessing to the people of the third world. I mean, concerning the first scenario Jesus himself told us as much (Matt. 5:11-12), but that still doesn't make us actually desire it.
So maybe a healthy dose of national humility is called for, especially on the part of us Christians whose Bibles tell us that unchecked power, untold wealth, and greed euphemized as ambition, though as American as apple pie, are called in Scripture "the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life" (I John 2:16).
If we don't want Islamo-fascist oppression here, and if they don't want our "free markets" over there, so what? Whether it comes dressed in camo and army boots, or in turbans and sandals, it's still Babylon.
And stamping it with a crescent or a cross won't change that....
I cannot help but wonder if what we export is received in the same spirit in which it is allegedly given (I mean come on, those roses with which the Iraqis were supposed to greet our soldiers sure ended up looking a lot like rifles). Is it possible that others may not be particularly fond of the blessings we keep trying to give them?
Just because we say, really loudly and with lots of force, that we are just trying to help, doesn't always make it so. There is greater reason to believe that intense persecution by Muslim fundamentalists would be a blessing to the American church than there is for the idea that an American-style government and culture would be a blessing to the people of the third world. I mean, concerning the first scenario Jesus himself told us as much (Matt. 5:11-12), but that still doesn't make us actually desire it.
So maybe a healthy dose of national humility is called for, especially on the part of us Christians whose Bibles tell us that unchecked power, untold wealth, and greed euphemized as ambition, though as American as apple pie, are called in Scripture "the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life" (I John 2:16).
If we don't want Islamo-fascist oppression here, and if they don't want our "free markets" over there, so what? Whether it comes dressed in camo and army boots, or in turbans and sandals, it's still Babylon.
And stamping it with a crescent or a cross won't change that....
Sunday, February 24, 2008
On Babylon, Beasts, and White Picket Fences
I just preached from Revelation 13, where we are introduced to the beast from the sea and the beast from the earth (sometimes called "the antichrist" and the "false prophet" respectively). When we discover these beasts' project, we see that their aim is to combine military might and lofty religious rhetoric in order to bring about conformity to their sinister agenda of destroying the church by means of lies and deceit.
I can't help but wonder if, in our little parcel of earth, we haven't to some degree bought in to the lie that there's a protective force field around our nation that precludes our complicity in an agenda that is anything but godly and divinely-favored.
I recently heard a well-known Christian talk-show host (yes, he is Reformed) attempting to explain the difference between providence and redemption. He said, "You see, just because America has been the source of tremendous good in the world doesn't mean we hold a 'Most Favored Nation' status in God's redemptive plan. God uses us to providentially bless the world, but not to redeem it."
Indeed, for we wouldn't want to think too highly of ourselves, now would we?
As I heard that, I couldn't help but wonder if we see our heavenly citizenship as profound enough to help us handle the fact that our little corner of the kingdom of man is itself a suburb of Babylon, and no imagined myth of nobility or manifest destiny can change the earthly, fallen, and selfish motives that drive us "further up, and further in" to this Dream which we have been told we are blessed to enjoy.
Last time I checked, a dragon-empowered beast with ten horns, seven heads, and the authority to make war upon and conquer God's people is not likely to be stopped by stars, stripes, and white picket fences.
I can't help but wonder if, in our little parcel of earth, we haven't to some degree bought in to the lie that there's a protective force field around our nation that precludes our complicity in an agenda that is anything but godly and divinely-favored.
I recently heard a well-known Christian talk-show host (yes, he is Reformed) attempting to explain the difference between providence and redemption. He said, "You see, just because America has been the source of tremendous good in the world doesn't mean we hold a 'Most Favored Nation' status in God's redemptive plan. God uses us to providentially bless the world, but not to redeem it."
Indeed, for we wouldn't want to think too highly of ourselves, now would we?
As I heard that, I couldn't help but wonder if we see our heavenly citizenship as profound enough to help us handle the fact that our little corner of the kingdom of man is itself a suburb of Babylon, and no imagined myth of nobility or manifest destiny can change the earthly, fallen, and selfish motives that drive us "further up, and further in" to this Dream which we have been told we are blessed to enjoy.
Last time I checked, a dragon-empowered beast with ten horns, seven heads, and the authority to make war upon and conquer God's people is not likely to be stopped by stars, stripes, and white picket fences.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Semper Reformanda, But Nunquam Reformata
A good mate of mine, "ACD" (a resident scholar here at De Regnis Duobus), has taken a break from his doctoral work in Aberdeen to dig up the oldest reference to the phrase "semper reformanda" he could find. He writes:
When we compare that description to those who insist upon using this slogan to force innovation in our Reformed churches today, I'd have to conclude that the shoe fits pretty well, wouldn't you?
"The earliest reference I've found to the notion of 'always reforming' is in Abraham Wright's (a.k.a. Abraham Philotheus) criticism of certain Scottish Presbyterians. Philotheus was dissatisfied with the state of affairs following the English Restitution; [he] says of [them] and [their] type: 'They could no more endure the Long Parliament with their Aristocracy, nor the Rump [Parliament] with their Oligarchy, nor the Protector with his Olivarchy, then their lawful Prince with his regular Monarchy. In a word, what they are in Church they are in State; always Reforming, but never Reformed.'"So apparently, the earliest known usage of the slogan semper reformanda (a phrase that supposedly captures the spirit of the Protestant Reformation) was employed to characterize those who were little more than malcontents intent on spreading dissent among the ranks.
When we compare that description to those who insist upon using this slogan to force innovation in our Reformed churches today, I'd have to conclude that the shoe fits pretty well, wouldn't you?
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
It's OK to Fix It, But Only If It's Broke
If I had a nickel for every time I've heard that our churches need to be "always reforming" I would have, like, two dollars probably.
Think about this slogan for just a moment. According to this view, if our churches are not tweaking their theology always, then they're not living up to the spirit of the Reformation. Excuse me, but does it not seem a tad irresponsible to be constantly altering our theological formulations for no good reason?
Now of course, our confessions are not divinely inspired (though they are authoritative), and if or when the Bible demands a modification in our system of doctrine, we had better make the change.
But how often does something like this happen?
If you ask me, it's not every day that we make an exegetical quantum leap. Since the seventeenth century, I'd say that men like Geerhardus Vos, Herman Ridderbos, and Meredith Kline have significantly forwarded our theological conversation in ways that further, but do not contradict, our confessional orthodoxy. And when faithful and compelling exegesis demands we adapt, then by all means, let us adapt.
But I have no interest in "always reforming" for the sake of being innovative. "if it ain't broke, don't fix it," as the fella said.
Think about this slogan for just a moment. According to this view, if our churches are not tweaking their theology always, then they're not living up to the spirit of the Reformation. Excuse me, but does it not seem a tad irresponsible to be constantly altering our theological formulations for no good reason?
Now of course, our confessions are not divinely inspired (though they are authoritative), and if or when the Bible demands a modification in our system of doctrine, we had better make the change.
But how often does something like this happen?
If you ask me, it's not every day that we make an exegetical quantum leap. Since the seventeenth century, I'd say that men like Geerhardus Vos, Herman Ridderbos, and Meredith Kline have significantly forwarded our theological conversation in ways that further, but do not contradict, our confessional orthodoxy. And when faithful and compelling exegesis demands we adapt, then by all means, let us adapt.
But I have no interest in "always reforming" for the sake of being innovative. "if it ain't broke, don't fix it," as the fella said.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Confessional Minimalism or Maximalism?
I have been thinking lately about the nature of the minister's relationship and obligation to the doctrinal standards of his church. Do we take a minimalist approach, which only asks that he not contradict the teaching of his confession, or is a maximalist approach to be preferred, which insists that he positively affirm his church's doctrines and promise not to stray outside the parameters of his confession?
Of the seven ordination vows a PCA minister must affirm, the second reads as follows:
For example, the Westminster Standards teach that union with Christ is a "special benefit" enjoyed by the "members of the invisible church," and that by this union "the elect... are spiritually and mystically, yet really and inseparably" joined with Christ (WLC 65-66). The "inseparable" nature of this union precludes "true believers" from "totally or finally falling away from a state of grace" (WLC 79). Finally, the various benefits of Christ's mediation, such as "justification, adoption, and sanctification," are given to "the members of the invisible church" as "manifestations of their union with him."
Now here's my question: If the phrase "union with Christ" is not found in the Bible, and if the various prepositional phrases used to denote this concept are also used in passages that plainly teach that the connection can be broken, then what is the responsibility of the expositor of Scripture at this point?
Should he (1) Teach that there are two kinds of "union with Christ," the Westminster kind and the John 15 kind? Or, (2) Teach that "union with Christ" refers to what the Standards are referring to, and insist that the John 15 phenomenon be called something else? Or, (3) Teach whatever version of "union with Christ" his passage is referring to without any qualification whatsoever?
Of the seven ordination vows a PCA minister must affirm, the second reads as follows:
Do you sincerely receive and adopt the Confession of Faith and the Catechisms of this Church, as containing the system of doctrine taught in the Holy Scriptures; and do you further promise that if at any time you find yourself out of accord with any of the fundamentals of this system of doctrine, you will on your own initiative, make known to your Presbytery the change which has taken place in your views since the assumption of this ordination vow?In the light of this statement, one may reasonably enquire whether it is legitimate to posit an additional, supplementary version of a specific confessional doctrine which contradicts the confession's teaching, but claims the freedom to do so because it is just reflecting the broader teaching of Scripture on the subject in question.
For example, the Westminster Standards teach that union with Christ is a "special benefit" enjoyed by the "members of the invisible church," and that by this union "the elect... are spiritually and mystically, yet really and inseparably" joined with Christ (WLC 65-66). The "inseparable" nature of this union precludes "true believers" from "totally or finally falling away from a state of grace" (WLC 79). Finally, the various benefits of Christ's mediation, such as "justification, adoption, and sanctification," are given to "the members of the invisible church" as "manifestations of their union with him."
Now here's my question: If the phrase "union with Christ" is not found in the Bible, and if the various prepositional phrases used to denote this concept are also used in passages that plainly teach that the connection can be broken, then what is the responsibility of the expositor of Scripture at this point?
Should he (1) Teach that there are two kinds of "union with Christ," the Westminster kind and the John 15 kind? Or, (2) Teach that "union with Christ" refers to what the Standards are referring to, and insist that the John 15 phenomenon be called something else? Or, (3) Teach whatever version of "union with Christ" his passage is referring to without any qualification whatsoever?
Friday, February 15, 2008
Pacific Northwest Study Committee Meeting
Just a heads-up to those of you who are interested, our study committee that was appointed to examine the theology of Peter Leithart will be meeting tomorrow to see where we stand. Please pray for all of us involved, that we would discharge our duty with fairness, conviction, and brotherly love. We are due to report to presbytery in April.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Who Tramples Whom Underfoot?
I recently preached from Revelation 11, and as is the case all over that prophecy, this chapter offered a powerfully vivid metaphor to describe the church:
So according to this picture, the church is portrayed as partly measured and invincible, and partly unmeasured and vulnerable. As with the two witnesses in this chapter, who are hated by all and yet protected by God until their mission is complete, at which time their martyred bodies are raised and ascend to heaven, so the church is illustrated in an ironic and paradoxical fashion in order to demonstrate the bittersweetness of her earthly existence.
Now in continuing our Babylonian theme of late, I find it interesting that the divine description of the church, in the thinking of many sincere believers today, fits better when applied to the good ol' U.S. of A.
Our God-fearing nation, we are assured, is hated by infidels, A-rabs, the French, and other unsavory types because our light on the hill is shining brightly upon their culturally backward societies, exposing their lack of megachurches and WalMarts (which are one and the same, really).
Well, I would humbly suggest that "the Gentiles" who "trample the holy city" are not Muslims who fly planes into our skyscrapers, but the very aspects of our society (yes, ours) that turn our churches into strip malls, our worshipers into consumers, and our God into a commodity beholden to the ebb and flow of the Market.
Then I was given a measuring rod like a staff, and I was told, "Rise and measure the temple of God and the altar and those who worship there, but do not measure the court outside the temple; leave that out, for it is given over to the nations, and they will trample the holy city for forty-two months" (vv. 1-2).Some points of note: (1) The command to "measure the temple" involves measuring people, meaning the temple is not a literal structure; (2) The outer court is to be left unmeasured, and therefore unprotected; (3) The unprotected outer court is called "the holy city," a designation that elsewhere in Revelation refers to the Lamb's wife, the New Jerusalem (21:2; 22:19).
So according to this picture, the church is portrayed as partly measured and invincible, and partly unmeasured and vulnerable. As with the two witnesses in this chapter, who are hated by all and yet protected by God until their mission is complete, at which time their martyred bodies are raised and ascend to heaven, so the church is illustrated in an ironic and paradoxical fashion in order to demonstrate the bittersweetness of her earthly existence.
Now in continuing our Babylonian theme of late, I find it interesting that the divine description of the church, in the thinking of many sincere believers today, fits better when applied to the good ol' U.S. of A.
Our God-fearing nation, we are assured, is hated by infidels, A-rabs, the French, and other unsavory types because our light on the hill is shining brightly upon their culturally backward societies, exposing their lack of megachurches and WalMarts (which are one and the same, really).
Well, I would humbly suggest that "the Gentiles" who "trample the holy city" are not Muslims who fly planes into our skyscrapers, but the very aspects of our society (yes, ours) that turn our churches into strip malls, our worshipers into consumers, and our God into a commodity beholden to the ebb and flow of the Market.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Babylon By Mirror
I remember listening a sermon by Dr. Martyn Lloyd-Jones in which he referred to the hymn "The Kingdom Come, O God" which contained this line:
I wonder if transformationism in the spiritual kingdom is the mirror-image of its counterpart in the civil one?
Just as postmillennial transformationists feel compelled to "redeem the city," so many Americans (believing or not) feel the responsibility to "make the world safe for democracy." The latter has been called "the white man's burden," and perhaps the former should be considered the Christian version of Manifest Destiny.
If what is good for the pious goose is good for the pagan gander, then the secular version of judgment begining at the house of God may be the willingness to admit that we Americans don't need to get to "Babylon By Bus," we can just walk out our front door.
Who, us Babylon? I dunno, but Revelation 18 hits eerily close to home.
O’er heathen lands afarHe basically laughed, and lamented, at the idea that Great Britain was still thought of in his day as a place that needed to look "afar" to find "heathen lands." Look no farther than in the collective mirror, the Doctor argued, for there you'll find all the heathensim you'll ever want to see.
Thick darkness broodeth yet:
Arise, O Morning Star,
Arise, and never set!
I wonder if transformationism in the spiritual kingdom is the mirror-image of its counterpart in the civil one?
Just as postmillennial transformationists feel compelled to "redeem the city," so many Americans (believing or not) feel the responsibility to "make the world safe for democracy." The latter has been called "the white man's burden," and perhaps the former should be considered the Christian version of Manifest Destiny.
If what is good for the pious goose is good for the pagan gander, then the secular version of judgment begining at the house of God may be the willingness to admit that we Americans don't need to get to "Babylon By Bus," we can just walk out our front door.
Who, us Babylon? I dunno, but Revelation 18 hits eerily close to home.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
On Obstinate Optimism
I find it interesting, when I consider genres like the printed page or the screen (big or small), how rare a thing it is to come across a true tragedy. You know, the kind where Sauron takes the Ring, where Voldemort kills all the Muggles, and where the villain escapes at the end, leaving behind a trail of suffering and darkness with no evidence of "lux post tenebras" (as the fella said).
The reason for this is pretty obvious, I think: Deep down we need to believe that nice guys finish first, that only the good die old, that cheaters never prosper, that crime doesn't pay, and that honesty, at the end of the day, really is the best policy.
Problem is, none of this is true. Not in the here and now, anyway.
What if the story of man, in his earthly kingdom under the sun, is the consummate and archetypical tragedy? Now I know what you're thinking: "Well duh, Sherlock! Of course it is, look at all the suffering and misery out there." Yes, but perhaps we're not seeing the tragic nature of the human story with sufficient clarity and depth.
Let me put it another way: What if our collective earthly story, yours and mine, is actually swept up in and even contributing to the tragic nature of this present age? What if it's not merely the case that, despite America's most valliant efforts to rid the world of evildoers, suffering still exists out there among the swarthy and less civilized. But what if we Americans are ourselves culprits, contributing collectively to what we claim, on paper at least, to desire to eradicate?
I'll not elaborate just yet (or perhaps ever). I'm just wondering out loud if we American Christians are willing to accept the fact that our heavenly citizenship may be the only redeeming thing about our earthly lives.
I mean, we Reformed folk can resign ourselves to being outsiders looking into a broader church culture with which we feel little affinity, and we often do it with no small amount of moustache-twisting and sinister glee. But why can we so readily "tsk, tsk" those misguided evangelicals, while insisting that our secular corner of the earthly kingdom is on the right side of every battle, destined to don the white hat and ride off into the providential, common grace sunset?
The reason for this is pretty obvious, I think: Deep down we need to believe that nice guys finish first, that only the good die old, that cheaters never prosper, that crime doesn't pay, and that honesty, at the end of the day, really is the best policy.
Problem is, none of this is true. Not in the here and now, anyway.
What if the story of man, in his earthly kingdom under the sun, is the consummate and archetypical tragedy? Now I know what you're thinking: "Well duh, Sherlock! Of course it is, look at all the suffering and misery out there." Yes, but perhaps we're not seeing the tragic nature of the human story with sufficient clarity and depth.
Let me put it another way: What if our collective earthly story, yours and mine, is actually swept up in and even contributing to the tragic nature of this present age? What if it's not merely the case that, despite America's most valliant efforts to rid the world of evildoers, suffering still exists out there among the swarthy and less civilized. But what if we Americans are ourselves culprits, contributing collectively to what we claim, on paper at least, to desire to eradicate?
I'll not elaborate just yet (or perhaps ever). I'm just wondering out loud if we American Christians are willing to accept the fact that our heavenly citizenship may be the only redeeming thing about our earthly lives.
I mean, we Reformed folk can resign ourselves to being outsiders looking into a broader church culture with which we feel little affinity, and we often do it with no small amount of moustache-twisting and sinister glee. But why can we so readily "tsk, tsk" those misguided evangelicals, while insisting that our secular corner of the earthly kingdom is on the right side of every battle, destined to don the white hat and ride off into the providential, common grace sunset?
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
When A Credit in Thine Account Ye Place, Pollute Ye May, Without Disgrace!
Call me behind the times or hopelessly out of touch, but last week I heard, for the first time, about carbon credits.
The way these credits work, as far as I can tell, is by allocating to a company a certain amount of credits which they can use to pollute the environment. Companies that pollute less, and therefore have extra credits which remain unused, can sell those credits to companies whose pollution levels exceed what their carbon credits will allow.
First of all, this sounds a lot like the Roman Catholic practice of selling indulgences, doesn't it? If you're going to sin, here's a pre-approved, divinely sanctioned excuse for it. Pretty soon we'll be hearing that the carbon credits still in the accounts of companies that go belly-up will be placed in a "treasury of merit" from which those with less than super-erogatory tendencies may draw.
Secondly, it drives me crazy that something like "environmental virtue" can be placed within the jurisdiction of the Market and treated as a commodity. Didn't there used to be things called "commons" which were, back in the day at least, big open spaces that belonged to everyone? Well, it seems the Enclosure Act that placed literal spaces (like parks and greenbelts) in private hands has extended beyond mere real estate and now includes all kinds of other things that are now up for sale.
I guess it just annoys me that everything from schools to street signs, hospitals to health care, and water to warfare are subjected to Market forces and treated as consumer products auctioned off to the highest bidder.
OK, enough ranting....
The way these credits work, as far as I can tell, is by allocating to a company a certain amount of credits which they can use to pollute the environment. Companies that pollute less, and therefore have extra credits which remain unused, can sell those credits to companies whose pollution levels exceed what their carbon credits will allow.
First of all, this sounds a lot like the Roman Catholic practice of selling indulgences, doesn't it? If you're going to sin, here's a pre-approved, divinely sanctioned excuse for it. Pretty soon we'll be hearing that the carbon credits still in the accounts of companies that go belly-up will be placed in a "treasury of merit" from which those with less than super-erogatory tendencies may draw.
Secondly, it drives me crazy that something like "environmental virtue" can be placed within the jurisdiction of the Market and treated as a commodity. Didn't there used to be things called "commons" which were, back in the day at least, big open spaces that belonged to everyone? Well, it seems the Enclosure Act that placed literal spaces (like parks and greenbelts) in private hands has extended beyond mere real estate and now includes all kinds of other things that are now up for sale.
I guess it just annoys me that everything from schools to street signs, hospitals to health care, and water to warfare are subjected to Market forces and treated as consumer products auctioned off to the highest bidder.
OK, enough ranting....
Sunday, February 03, 2008
The Scandal of the Gospel
I just began a series of sermons called More Than Conquerors in which I plan to look at Romans 6-8 and focus on the topic of Christian living under the shadow of the cross, and in the power of the Spirit.
This morning I preached from Romans 6:1 and quoted Martyn Lloyd-Jones, who insisted that all faithful preaching must be mistaken for antinomianism, saying, "There is a kind of dangerous element about the true presentation of the doctrine of salvation."
You see, those who see the gospel primarily as a tool for individual or cultural transformation will inevitably be hesitant to give too much attention to something like grace. After all, if not even the law could cure our constant sinning, and then God just accepts us anyway, the conclusion that grace will curb our lusts sounds pretty absurd if you think about it.
"Give 'em an inch," as the fella said.
With all due acknowledgement of the dangers of the etymological fallacy, it is still interesting that the word from which we translate the "offense" that the scribes and Pharisees felt at Jesus' person and message is the Greek verb scandalizomai, from which we derive our English word "scandal."
I don't know about you, but if a person's understanding of the gospel isn't scandalous to my natural way of thinking, if it doesn't call into question everything I think I know, if it doesn't subvert the wisdom of this age, then when you preach it I can barely muster the energy to yawn.
Which is why my response to the idea that the gospel is simply the latest in a long line of self-help methods, or that New Urbanism is "kingdom work," is to wonder why Jesus had to be so attention-seeking as to die to accomplish such tasks.
If the gospel is as "earthy" as many claim, then I will echo the scandal of the scribes and protest alongside them the seeming overkill of the cross and resurrection.
This morning I preached from Romans 6:1 and quoted Martyn Lloyd-Jones, who insisted that all faithful preaching must be mistaken for antinomianism, saying, "There is a kind of dangerous element about the true presentation of the doctrine of salvation."
You see, those who see the gospel primarily as a tool for individual or cultural transformation will inevitably be hesitant to give too much attention to something like grace. After all, if not even the law could cure our constant sinning, and then God just accepts us anyway, the conclusion that grace will curb our lusts sounds pretty absurd if you think about it.
"Give 'em an inch," as the fella said.
With all due acknowledgement of the dangers of the etymological fallacy, it is still interesting that the word from which we translate the "offense" that the scribes and Pharisees felt at Jesus' person and message is the Greek verb scandalizomai, from which we derive our English word "scandal."
I don't know about you, but if a person's understanding of the gospel isn't scandalous to my natural way of thinking, if it doesn't call into question everything I think I know, if it doesn't subvert the wisdom of this age, then when you preach it I can barely muster the energy to yawn.
Which is why my response to the idea that the gospel is simply the latest in a long line of self-help methods, or that New Urbanism is "kingdom work," is to wonder why Jesus had to be so attention-seeking as to die to accomplish such tasks.
If the gospel is as "earthy" as many claim, then I will echo the scandal of the scribes and protest alongside them the seeming overkill of the cross and resurrection.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
The Right Error to be Wrongly Charged With
After expounding in glorious detail the gospel of justification by faith through the imputation to sinners of an alien righteousness, Paul the apostle begins the sixth chapter of Romans with the question, "What then? Shall we continue in sin that grace may abound?"
It seems to me that one of the key ways whereby we can determine whether we've understood one of Paul's arguments is by whether or not we are tempted to ask the question that he anticipates his readers asking.
So if, after reading the first five chapters of Romans, your first thought is that you can sin as much as you like since God's grace is so abundant, you're on the right track.
I know, I know... Paul's answer to the question is "no," but that doesn't change the fact that it's precisely the right question to ask.
The case can be made, therefore, that if Paul was constantly charged with preaching antinomianism (cf. Rom. 2:8), then this same charge will be made against those who preach a Pauline gospel today.
The question arises, then, concerning those in our circles who are sympathetic to the theology of the Federal Vision: In your zeal to remedy antinomianism, are you in fact undermining justification by faith alone? And if not, why do your critics all seem to think you are?
And what's more, Does it concern you that you are being charged with the exact opposite error with which Paul was charged?
It seems to me that one of the key ways whereby we can determine whether we've understood one of Paul's arguments is by whether or not we are tempted to ask the question that he anticipates his readers asking.
So if, after reading the first five chapters of Romans, your first thought is that you can sin as much as you like since God's grace is so abundant, you're on the right track.
I know, I know... Paul's answer to the question is "no," but that doesn't change the fact that it's precisely the right question to ask.
The case can be made, therefore, that if Paul was constantly charged with preaching antinomianism (cf. Rom. 2:8), then this same charge will be made against those who preach a Pauline gospel today.
The question arises, then, concerning those in our circles who are sympathetic to the theology of the Federal Vision: In your zeal to remedy antinomianism, are you in fact undermining justification by faith alone? And if not, why do your critics all seem to think you are?
And what's more, Does it concern you that you are being charged with the exact opposite error with which Paul was charged?
Sunday, January 27, 2008
I Knew It!
Many Reformed confessionalists have long suspected that our Federal Vision friends are guilty of smuggling the covenant of works in through the back door by their rejection of the law/gospel distinction in favor of "covenant faithfulness."
Now we have proof....
Federal Visionist and PCA pastor Mark Horne wrote, in response to yours truly, the following:
So there you have it. Curse-sanctions do have a role to play this side of the cross and empty tomb after all.
They are to be invoked against Westminster Seminary California.
***
Update: If you are tempted to comment about the precise nature of the Mosaic curse-sanctions or the definition of "invective," please refrain (for that is not the point of my post). Plus, you may want to re-read the verse about straining out a gnat while swallowing a camel.
Now we have proof....
Federal Visionist and PCA pastor Mark Horne wrote, in response to yours truly, the following:
"And for the record, there simply is no invective strong enough to describe the crimes of Westminster West against the Bible and the Reformed Faith" (comment #87).Let the reader note that this was written after FV Godfather James Jordan did a pretty good job of calling down imprecations against Reformed orthodoxy when he spoke of the PCA's Federal Vision study committee as "a pack of liars... so openly wicked and evil, and so totally tyrannical, that is makes the Papacy look like small potatoes by comparison," R.C. Sproul as a "clown," and the PCA more broadly as a "gaggle of fools."
So there you have it. Curse-sanctions do have a role to play this side of the cross and empty tomb after all.
They are to be invoked against Westminster Seminary California.
***
Update: If you are tempted to comment about the precise nature of the Mosaic curse-sanctions or the definition of "invective," please refrain (for that is not the point of my post). Plus, you may want to re-read the verse about straining out a gnat while swallowing a camel.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Take My Advice and Do Better....
I often like to joke about how I would be a great coach for just about any sports team. For example, if I were a batting coach on a baseball team, I would patiently instruct the hitter not to swing at balls, only at strikes. And while we're on the subject, if you do swing, be sure to actually hit the ball (what's the point of swinging and missing?). Oh, and another thing: if you do hit it, be sure to hit it somewhere where there's not a fielder standing there (he might throw you out). Aim better, is what I'm saying.
As amusing as I think I am when I bark such instructions at the TV screen while a bunch of people are gathered to watch a game, the fact is that many church leaders do the same thing when instructing their congregations, or the church at large.
Apparently, the church is supposed to "have an impact." Plus, it should definitely "bring in the kingdom," all the while not forgetting to "redeem the culture."
Is it me, or is this instruction about as helpful as "hit better," "throw harder," and "run faster"?
Thankfully, the Reformed confessions make the church's marching orders much more clear: the job of the local church is to make disciples by preaching the Word, administering the sacraments, and exercising discipline in the lives of its members.
Whatever impact or success that the church may hope for (things that are in God's hands), it will only come as the result of doing the things we are actually responsible for. Moreover, if the church refuses to give due attention to the preaching of the apostles' doctrine, fellowship, the breaking of bread, and the prayers, she has no business expecting God's blessing on her extra-curricular activities.
When properly understood, then, the advice the church needs to heed is both simple and specific:
Be the Church.
As amusing as I think I am when I bark such instructions at the TV screen while a bunch of people are gathered to watch a game, the fact is that many church leaders do the same thing when instructing their congregations, or the church at large.
Apparently, the church is supposed to "have an impact." Plus, it should definitely "bring in the kingdom," all the while not forgetting to "redeem the culture."
Is it me, or is this instruction about as helpful as "hit better," "throw harder," and "run faster"?
Thankfully, the Reformed confessions make the church's marching orders much more clear: the job of the local church is to make disciples by preaching the Word, administering the sacraments, and exercising discipline in the lives of its members.
Whatever impact or success that the church may hope for (things that are in God's hands), it will only come as the result of doing the things we are actually responsible for. Moreover, if the church refuses to give due attention to the preaching of the apostles' doctrine, fellowship, the breaking of bread, and the prayers, she has no business expecting God's blessing on her extra-curricular activities.
When properly understood, then, the advice the church needs to heed is both simple and specific:
Be the Church.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Stop Serving God
Dr. Michael Horton's lecture at Westminster Seminary's recent conference was quite interesting and the occasion for plenty of questions during the Q&A time that closed the conference. His basic thesis was that God doesn't need our service, but our neighbor does.
The reason many Christians rarely engage in evangelism, he complained, is that they are so busy with the myriad of programs and "service opportunities" their churches provide. The tremendous pressure to get involved in various church ministries stems from a rather novel interpretation of Ephesians 4:11-12, a passage that in versions other than the KJV seems to teach what has been called "every-member ministry" (the entire argument hangs on the presence or absense of the comma after "saints" in v. 12).
Horton argued that a proper view of the ordained ministry (which insists that it is God, through the officers he has ordained, who serves his people on the Lord's Day) will revolutionize our expectations concerning what church is all about. In a word, we don't come to church to serve God, but for him to serve us. When we do serve God throughout the week, it is not by means of offering him something he lacks, but by means of loving our neighbors.
This does seem to comport with Jesus' own insistence that "the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve..." (Matt. 20:28).
So if this position is correct, we would be justified in saying that we should stop serving the Lord precisely so that we may begin serving our neighbors. The way we are prepared to do this is by being served by Christ through his minister on the Lord's Day, during which our entire existence is re-oriented according to the story that God is telling in Christ.
It is only when the marks of the church are given their proper attention that the mission of the church will flourish in the world.
The reason many Christians rarely engage in evangelism, he complained, is that they are so busy with the myriad of programs and "service opportunities" their churches provide. The tremendous pressure to get involved in various church ministries stems from a rather novel interpretation of Ephesians 4:11-12, a passage that in versions other than the KJV seems to teach what has been called "every-member ministry" (the entire argument hangs on the presence or absense of the comma after "saints" in v. 12).
Horton argued that a proper view of the ordained ministry (which insists that it is God, through the officers he has ordained, who serves his people on the Lord's Day) will revolutionize our expectations concerning what church is all about. In a word, we don't come to church to serve God, but for him to serve us. When we do serve God throughout the week, it is not by means of offering him something he lacks, but by means of loving our neighbors.
This does seem to comport with Jesus' own insistence that "the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve..." (Matt. 20:28).
So if this position is correct, we would be justified in saying that we should stop serving the Lord precisely so that we may begin serving our neighbors. The way we are prepared to do this is by being served by Christ through his minister on the Lord's Day, during which our entire existence is re-oriented according to the story that God is telling in Christ.
It is only when the marks of the church are given their proper attention that the mission of the church will flourish in the world.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Post-Graduate Ecclesiology?
I'm down in Southern California for Westminster Seminary's conference on the importance of being both missional and Reformed.
This topic's got me a-thinking....
There is no small amount of suppressed guilt among pastors of confessional churches about the fact that our main source of growth, besides babies being born, comes from burned-out ex-evangelicals. The way things seem to work is that the megachurches get 'em saved, and then in a few years they graduate from them to us.
On the one hand, I think that Reformed churches can take a page or two from someone like Mark Driscoll's playbook, for despite his rough edges and various inconsistencies, he really does do a superb job of training his people in what he calls "the ground war," by which he means being very purposeful and engaged in the life of our neighborhoods and communities.
But still, I must also point out that any church that insists upon a confessional identity and reverent liturgy will automatically have serious liabilities when it comes to attracting non-believers. I mean, if I were a pagan, I'd go to Mars Hill Church in Seattle. It's got lots of young people, loud music, and a really funny pastor.
I'm curious, therefore, to hear what the faculty of Westminster have to say about what seems to be an inescapable condundrum for Reformed ministers and church planters: Must we be willing to completely re-tool your philosophy of ministry and make worship about evangelizing the non-churched? And if not, must we be content with the scraps that fall from the megachurch's table?
This topic's got me a-thinking....
There is no small amount of suppressed guilt among pastors of confessional churches about the fact that our main source of growth, besides babies being born, comes from burned-out ex-evangelicals. The way things seem to work is that the megachurches get 'em saved, and then in a few years they graduate from them to us.
On the one hand, I think that Reformed churches can take a page or two from someone like Mark Driscoll's playbook, for despite his rough edges and various inconsistencies, he really does do a superb job of training his people in what he calls "the ground war," by which he means being very purposeful and engaged in the life of our neighborhoods and communities.
But still, I must also point out that any church that insists upon a confessional identity and reverent liturgy will automatically have serious liabilities when it comes to attracting non-believers. I mean, if I were a pagan, I'd go to Mars Hill Church in Seattle. It's got lots of young people, loud music, and a really funny pastor.
I'm curious, therefore, to hear what the faculty of Westminster have to say about what seems to be an inescapable condundrum for Reformed ministers and church planters: Must we be willing to completely re-tool your philosophy of ministry and make worship about evangelizing the non-churched? And if not, must we be content with the scraps that fall from the megachurch's table?
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Amillennialism's Pitfalls?
This evening we took a break from our study of Revelation and I gave the first of two lectures on "Amillennialism and the Doctrine of the Two Kingdoms." One of the questions that was asked took me a bit off guard, and I'd like to out it out there for your consideration and input.
If pre- and postmillennial theology have their own problems, what about amillennialism? What are its possible pitfalls?
My answer was that a strong amillennial view of life in this age as consisting of suffering now and glory later (which I regard as the amill position in a nutshell) can potentially lead to individual apathy if it is not coupled with a healthy and robust appreciation of the role of the Holy Spirit in the life of the New Covenant saint.
The problem with transformationism, as I see it, is its insistance that the individual, redemptive transformation experienced by the believer by virtue of the indwelling Spirit of the age to come must be replicated outside the believer, in the culture. I would argue, on the other hand, that while the believer presently experiences elements of both already and not yet, the cosmos still must wait patiently for the full manifestation of the children of God and the redemption that will follow.
In short, when we allow the un-realized nature of cosmic eschatology to swallow the semi-realized nature of personal eschatology, we inevitably end up with an under-realized and anemic doctrine of sanctification.
Thoughts?
If pre- and postmillennial theology have their own problems, what about amillennialism? What are its possible pitfalls?
My answer was that a strong amillennial view of life in this age as consisting of suffering now and glory later (which I regard as the amill position in a nutshell) can potentially lead to individual apathy if it is not coupled with a healthy and robust appreciation of the role of the Holy Spirit in the life of the New Covenant saint.
The problem with transformationism, as I see it, is its insistance that the individual, redemptive transformation experienced by the believer by virtue of the indwelling Spirit of the age to come must be replicated outside the believer, in the culture. I would argue, on the other hand, that while the believer presently experiences elements of both already and not yet, the cosmos still must wait patiently for the full manifestation of the children of God and the redemption that will follow.
In short, when we allow the un-realized nature of cosmic eschatology to swallow the semi-realized nature of personal eschatology, we inevitably end up with an under-realized and anemic doctrine of sanctification.
Thoughts?
Friday, January 11, 2008
A Brief Update on the Pacific Northwest Presbytery's Study Committee on Peter Leithart
As I reported back in October, the Pacific Northwest Presbytery of the PCA appointed a study committee consisting of me, Rob Rayburn, James Bordwine, and two ruling elders to examine the theology of Peter Leithart (a member of this presbytery) in the light of last General Assembly's Federal Vision report.
We were due to conclude our work by this month's presbytery meeting (which started yesterday and will conclude today). Well, due to various circumstances, among which is the fact that the committee itself has yet to arrive at a consensus concerning the precise nature of the issues involved, we do not have a final report just yet. I am hoping we will by April's meeting.
Prayers are appreciated....
We were due to conclude our work by this month's presbytery meeting (which started yesterday and will conclude today). Well, due to various circumstances, among which is the fact that the committee itself has yet to arrive at a consensus concerning the precise nature of the issues involved, we do not have a final report just yet. I am hoping we will by April's meeting.
Prayers are appreciated....
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Homo Faber, Meet Homo Ludens
Playing off of the Latin title for man, Homo Sapiens, which means "man the wise," various authors have sought to describe man by different characteristics. Among these are Homo Faber ("man the worker") and Homo Ludens ("man the player").
I pointed out in a previous post that work is a pre-fall activity, and that Adam was commissioned to guard and care for the garden as part of his image-bearing activity in the covenant of works. The fall and subsequent curse did not introduce or obliterate work, therefore, but altered it and transformed it into something which would be characterized by toil, sweat, and an uncooperative earth.
Although work is not to be avoided (as if laziness were a virtue), neither is it to be seen as an unmixed blessing either (the CEO of Microsoft apparently never got the memo).
In the same way that many Ugandans would scratch their heads at Jesus' statement that no one would start a building project without making sure he had the money to complete it, or many Hungarians wouldn't grasp Peter's point that the disciples at the feast of Pentecost couldn't have been drunk since it was only 9am, many Americans today have a difficult time with the concept of "serving Mammon." As with Rockefeller's answer of "A little more" to the question "How much money is enough?", "serving Mammon" is something that rich(er) people do, but not us.
If it is true that market-driven societies value hard work more than they do leisure, then perhaps it is also true that we Americans are more aptly labeled Homo Faber than Homo Ludens.
But if life postlapsum is more than toiling for daily bread, and if divine image-bearing consists of more than being an efficient tool of production (such as enjoying friends and family, engaging in a hobby, or simply lingering over a well-brewed beverage and a book), then perhaps training (or even forcing) ourselves to slow down a bit is the most "world-affirming" thing we can do.
I pointed out in a previous post that work is a pre-fall activity, and that Adam was commissioned to guard and care for the garden as part of his image-bearing activity in the covenant of works. The fall and subsequent curse did not introduce or obliterate work, therefore, but altered it and transformed it into something which would be characterized by toil, sweat, and an uncooperative earth.
Although work is not to be avoided (as if laziness were a virtue), neither is it to be seen as an unmixed blessing either (the CEO of Microsoft apparently never got the memo).
In the same way that many Ugandans would scratch their heads at Jesus' statement that no one would start a building project without making sure he had the money to complete it, or many Hungarians wouldn't grasp Peter's point that the disciples at the feast of Pentecost couldn't have been drunk since it was only 9am, many Americans today have a difficult time with the concept of "serving Mammon." As with Rockefeller's answer of "A little more" to the question "How much money is enough?", "serving Mammon" is something that rich(er) people do, but not us.
If it is true that market-driven societies value hard work more than they do leisure, then perhaps it is also true that we Americans are more aptly labeled Homo Faber than Homo Ludens.
But if life postlapsum is more than toiling for daily bread, and if divine image-bearing consists of more than being an efficient tool of production (such as enjoying friends and family, engaging in a hobby, or simply lingering over a well-brewed beverage and a book), then perhaps training (or even forcing) ourselves to slow down a bit is the most "world-affirming" thing we can do.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
When Excellence Demands Mediocrity
One would think that the degree of authority with we are charged to do all things "with excellence" is indicative of the fact that such a charge actually comes from the Bible. Recent archaeology has surely uncovered the Eleveth Commandment, "Thou Shalt Do All Things With Excellence," right?
When this insistence is applied to the spiritual kingdom, the logic usually runs thus: "God is glorious and majestic, and unless our church's music and production reflect this, we're selling him short." I'll not spend the necessary time refuting this notion, since I assume that most Reformed amillennialists will see right through this subtle marginalization of the cross.
But the requirement to do all things excellently does seem to make more sense when applied in the civil kingdom, since what passes as power and prestige in the secular realm is quite different from what characterizes the spiritual one.
But can we really bear this burden?
It seems to me that it's hard enough to do even one thing well. And can those of us similarly plagued with mediocrity really be expected to do many things well, let alone all things excellently?
One thing that we average-level Christians could stand to wrestle with is the question, "If I can't be great at everything, which among my various callings are worth the effort needed to excel at them?"
If answering this question entails sacrificing job recognition for a "World's Greatest Dad" coffee mug (though in a meritocracy the latter is worth almost nothing), is that a sacrifice we are willing to make? Is it a "sacrifice" at all?
Sure, the demands of every sphere are unique, and no two sets of circumstances are ever identical. But the storing up of heavenly treasure often demands the sacrificing of that which is earthly, and the responsibility to nurture and train our covenant children in the faith is surely an opportunity to do the former, even if it also entails the latter.
When this insistence is applied to the spiritual kingdom, the logic usually runs thus: "God is glorious and majestic, and unless our church's music and production reflect this, we're selling him short." I'll not spend the necessary time refuting this notion, since I assume that most Reformed amillennialists will see right through this subtle marginalization of the cross.
But the requirement to do all things excellently does seem to make more sense when applied in the civil kingdom, since what passes as power and prestige in the secular realm is quite different from what characterizes the spiritual one.
But can we really bear this burden?
It seems to me that it's hard enough to do even one thing well. And can those of us similarly plagued with mediocrity really be expected to do many things well, let alone all things excellently?
One thing that we average-level Christians could stand to wrestle with is the question, "If I can't be great at everything, which among my various callings are worth the effort needed to excel at them?"
If answering this question entails sacrificing job recognition for a "World's Greatest Dad" coffee mug (though in a meritocracy the latter is worth almost nothing), is that a sacrifice we are willing to make? Is it a "sacrifice" at all?
Sure, the demands of every sphere are unique, and no two sets of circumstances are ever identical. But the storing up of heavenly treasure often demands the sacrificing of that which is earthly, and the responsibility to nurture and train our covenant children in the faith is surely an opportunity to do the former, even if it also entails the latter.
Friday, January 04, 2008
Darwinism in the Workplace
I mentioned in an earlier post that the phenomenon of "job dissatisfaction" is not simply a symptom of a spoiled culture with nothing to do but complain that the AC in our corner office is too loud and interferes with our Blue Tooth, but in fact, it goes back to the fall of man when God cursed his labors and told him that work would continue in the post-fall world, but it will be a total pain.
We're supposed to feel frustrated, and if you think about it, so was Adam, even before the fall. If Vos was right, and eschatology precedes soteriology, then there was a measure of longing during Adam's pre-fall state (and this means, by extension, that you don't need a crisis to see the need for God, nor will getting that big promotion make you cease "looking for to fill that God-shaped hole").
Still, we live in a market-driven society, which teaches us to think of ourselves as consumers and forces us to compete for that which sustains us. This is ironic for conservative Christians, since in a very specific cultural battle we claim to believe in a "right to life," while on the big, broad question we deny that claim, insisting instead that a person only has a "right" to that which he can gain for himself in the open market. So if you don't have any skills that the rest of us deem valuable, then don't come crying to us for a handout.
I guess pro-choice Darwinism is alive and well in our circles after all.
When we are atomized and forced not to cooperate but to compete for wages, promotions, and power, it is to be expected that the built-in frustration we feel will only grow over time.
Are there ways in which the Christian can be countercultural and buck the traditon in the workplace, or should the two kingdoms provide us with the ability to play by one set of rules of rules Monday through Saturday, and another on Sunday?
We're supposed to feel frustrated, and if you think about it, so was Adam, even before the fall. If Vos was right, and eschatology precedes soteriology, then there was a measure of longing during Adam's pre-fall state (and this means, by extension, that you don't need a crisis to see the need for God, nor will getting that big promotion make you cease "looking for to fill that God-shaped hole").
Still, we live in a market-driven society, which teaches us to think of ourselves as consumers and forces us to compete for that which sustains us. This is ironic for conservative Christians, since in a very specific cultural battle we claim to believe in a "right to life," while on the big, broad question we deny that claim, insisting instead that a person only has a "right" to that which he can gain for himself in the open market. So if you don't have any skills that the rest of us deem valuable, then don't come crying to us for a handout.
I guess pro-choice Darwinism is alive and well in our circles after all.
When we are atomized and forced not to cooperate but to compete for wages, promotions, and power, it is to be expected that the built-in frustration we feel will only grow over time.
Are there ways in which the Christian can be countercultural and buck the traditon in the workplace, or should the two kingdoms provide us with the ability to play by one set of rules of rules Monday through Saturday, and another on Sunday?
Thursday, January 03, 2008
The Questionable Job Well-Done
As I pointed out in my last post, all legitimate vocations are potentially God-honoring, and further, there is no need to "redeem" or "transform" the work in order for God to be glorified by it. Accounting is accounting, whether it is done for human or divine glory.
Some vocations, however, are by their very nature God-dishonoring. Occupations such as prostitution, drug trafficking, and bank robbery are both illegal and immoral, and no matter how much one may try to convince himself otherwise, God cannot but be grieved with those who practice such things.
But here's where the issue becomes interesting....
Are there jobs that are not only legal but respectable, but which are by their very nature morally questionable? I say "by their very nature" because I am not speaking of the dirty cop on the take, or the embezzling CFO, or the juiced-up designated hitter. These are legitimate jobs done dishonestly. I am speaking of professions that, even though legal and even when performed well, are inherently bad.
I hesitate to provide examples for obvious reasons. So I will let you, the faithful reader, wrestle with this question and come up with examples, if there indeed are any.
Fire away....
Some vocations, however, are by their very nature God-dishonoring. Occupations such as prostitution, drug trafficking, and bank robbery are both illegal and immoral, and no matter how much one may try to convince himself otherwise, God cannot but be grieved with those who practice such things.
But here's where the issue becomes interesting....
Are there jobs that are not only legal but respectable, but which are by their very nature morally questionable? I say "by their very nature" because I am not speaking of the dirty cop on the take, or the embezzling CFO, or the juiced-up designated hitter. These are legitimate jobs done dishonestly. I am speaking of professions that, even though legal and even when performed well, are inherently bad.
I hesitate to provide examples for obvious reasons. So I will let you, the faithful reader, wrestle with this question and come up with examples, if there indeed are any.
Fire away....
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Some Thoughts on Christians in the Workplace
It has been suggested to me by a woman in my church that a series of lectures on the issue of Christians in the workplace would be helpful, for the issue of job dissatisfaction is being experienced rather accutely by many. In the light of this, I'd like to put the issue on the table, offer some thoughts (which I may unpack in detail in subsequent posts), and get some feedback from you, the faithful reader.
First, I take it as pretty much incontrovertible that all (legitimate) vocations, though common and not holy, are potentially God-honoring. Further, this involves no transformation or redemption of anything. Since adjectives are not adverbs, a non-holy job (accounting) can be done holily, thus glorifying the Lord while retaining the common and secular nature of the work itself.
Secondly, there is a built-in ache that accompanies all earthly toil. As Vos taught us, eschatology precedes soteriology, which means, among other things, that the frustration we feel is supposed to be there.
Thirdly, the nature of our market-driven society, in which we are forced to compete with one another for wages, for position, and for power necessarily compounds the frustration people feel. Work, for many Americans, is not just some thing we have to do for eight hours a day in order to have enough money to enjoy our extra-curricular lives, but it has become our lives.
Fourthly, many have reached a point where they have ceased even asking out loud whether they are working too much. If you are a manager, a partner, or an executive, you pretty much have to put in sixty-plus hours a week, right? The ladder only goes in one direction (up), so unless you want your personal stock to plummet, you'd better keep climbing.
Fifthly, the mantra that we must do all things "with excellence" is most often applied to those areas where excellence is rewarded in a visible and worthwhile way. In a meritocracy, a 10% pay increase is worth more than a "World's Greatest Dad" coffee mug.
Lastly, every culture has its blindspots, which make certain verses in the Bible seem non-sensical. In Uganda, it's the one about not starting to build a house without making sure you have the money to finish it. In Hungary, it's the one where Peter says that the disciples can't possibly be drunk since it's only 9am. Maybe for us capitalists it's the one that condemns the withholding of just wages from laborers for the purpose of living lives of earthly luxury and self-indulgence?
First, I take it as pretty much incontrovertible that all (legitimate) vocations, though common and not holy, are potentially God-honoring. Further, this involves no transformation or redemption of anything. Since adjectives are not adverbs, a non-holy job (accounting) can be done holily, thus glorifying the Lord while retaining the common and secular nature of the work itself.
Secondly, there is a built-in ache that accompanies all earthly toil. As Vos taught us, eschatology precedes soteriology, which means, among other things, that the frustration we feel is supposed to be there.
Thirdly, the nature of our market-driven society, in which we are forced to compete with one another for wages, for position, and for power necessarily compounds the frustration people feel. Work, for many Americans, is not just some thing we have to do for eight hours a day in order to have enough money to enjoy our extra-curricular lives, but it has become our lives.
Fourthly, many have reached a point where they have ceased even asking out loud whether they are working too much. If you are a manager, a partner, or an executive, you pretty much have to put in sixty-plus hours a week, right? The ladder only goes in one direction (up), so unless you want your personal stock to plummet, you'd better keep climbing.
Fifthly, the mantra that we must do all things "with excellence" is most often applied to those areas where excellence is rewarded in a visible and worthwhile way. In a meritocracy, a 10% pay increase is worth more than a "World's Greatest Dad" coffee mug.
Lastly, every culture has its blindspots, which make certain verses in the Bible seem non-sensical. In Uganda, it's the one about not starting to build a house without making sure you have the money to finish it. In Hungary, it's the one where Peter says that the disciples can't possibly be drunk since it's only 9am. Maybe for us capitalists it's the one that condemns the withholding of just wages from laborers for the purpose of living lives of earthly luxury and self-indulgence?
Thursday, December 27, 2007
On Overlap and Eschatology
I mentioned earlier this month that on one level it is impossible for anyone to hermetically seal off her theology from her views on matters civil and earthly. This is not due, however, to the line separating the kingdoms being blurred or erased, but to the fact that the believer herself straddles that line.
The overlap, then, exists not within the earthly and heavenly kingdoms themselves, but within us as we attempt to navigate them in this age.
For my own part, the overlap is probably most evident in my thoughts being drawn to the identity of the underdog, the powerless, and the oppressed. I recently re-read the words of black writer Langston Hughes in his 1930s poem "Lenox Avenue Mural":
The overlap, then, exists not within the earthly and heavenly kingdoms themselves, but within us as we attempt to navigate them in this age.
For my own part, the overlap is probably most evident in my thoughts being drawn to the identity of the underdog, the powerless, and the oppressed. I recently re-read the words of black writer Langston Hughes in his 1930s poem "Lenox Avenue Mural":
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore
and then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over
like a syrupy sweet?
Or maybe it just sags like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
There seems (to me at least) to be an affinity between the status of the civil and spiritual underdog. I'm not saying that to be powerless in one sphere is to be the same in the other (the two kingdoms remain distinct), but I am saying that it is not without significance that Jesus described the blessed man as the one who is spiritually poor, mournful, thirsty, and persecuted.
Since my theological convictions—particularly my amillennial eschatology, which I regard as simply code for "suffering now, glory later"—are such that I have come to consider the church's underdog status to be normative and even conducive to her health, it is only natural that my thoughts are also drawn to the powerless in the civil kingdom as well. In a word, I tend to side with the weaker of the two sides in most disputes.
And the flipside of this is that I can't help but wonder how those whose earthly affinities lie with the wealthy and powerful cannot necessarily be uncomfortable with a poor and powerless church?
Maybe others can be more "regally schizophrenic" than I can, but I would have a much easier time with the War on Terror if I were a postmillennialist.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Romney and Blair: Nutters Both?
Well, after much speculation, it is now official: British Prime Minister Tony Blair has converted to Roman Catholicism.
As when Dr. Francis Beckwith abandoned his post as president of the Evangelical Theological Society for the greener pastures of Rome, my reaction is to yawn, and then wonder what's for dinner.
I will make a few observations, though.
First, anyone who thinks that the Christian world is still divided between Catholics and Protestants is stuck in the sixteenth century. The Anglicanism that Blair jettisoned, much like Beckwith's former evangelicalism, is more similar to Catholicism than most care to admit, for various reasons.
Secondly, when our focus shifts from doctrine to piety, confessional Reformed theology is much closer to the Vatican than to Saddleback.
Thirdly, as Mitt Romney has been arguing, the minutiae of one's theology, despite our insistence to the contrary, has little bearing on his or her discharging of public duties. The next time we ask whether one who believes he will become a god one day is fit to have access to "the button," we should then pause to inquire the same of someone who believes that the earth stopped rotating for a day so the Amorites could be slain in Gibeon (is it not written in the Book of Jashar?).
The article cited goes on to say that "The former prime minister told the BBC this year that he had avoided talking about his religious views while in office for about 10 years for fear of being labeled 'a nutter.'"
I'm speculating here, but I'll wager that if Romney is elected, American evangelical culture warriors will expect the Latter-Day Saint to hold his tongue about the whole "Jesus is Lucifer's brother" thing. But if President Huckabee shies away from publically affirming that Jesus walked out of a grave on Easter morning, he'll be stoned for denying such a reasonable proposition.
As when Dr. Francis Beckwith abandoned his post as president of the Evangelical Theological Society for the greener pastures of Rome, my reaction is to yawn, and then wonder what's for dinner.
I will make a few observations, though.
First, anyone who thinks that the Christian world is still divided between Catholics and Protestants is stuck in the sixteenth century. The Anglicanism that Blair jettisoned, much like Beckwith's former evangelicalism, is more similar to Catholicism than most care to admit, for various reasons.
Secondly, when our focus shifts from doctrine to piety, confessional Reformed theology is much closer to the Vatican than to Saddleback.
Thirdly, as Mitt Romney has been arguing, the minutiae of one's theology, despite our insistence to the contrary, has little bearing on his or her discharging of public duties. The next time we ask whether one who believes he will become a god one day is fit to have access to "the button," we should then pause to inquire the same of someone who believes that the earth stopped rotating for a day so the Amorites could be slain in Gibeon (is it not written in the Book of Jashar?).
The article cited goes on to say that "The former prime minister told the BBC this year that he had avoided talking about his religious views while in office for about 10 years for fear of being labeled 'a nutter.'"
I'm speculating here, but I'll wager that if Romney is elected, American evangelical culture warriors will expect the Latter-Day Saint to hold his tongue about the whole "Jesus is Lucifer's brother" thing. But if President Huckabee shies away from publically affirming that Jesus walked out of a grave on Easter morning, he'll be stoned for denying such a reasonable proposition.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
The Decentralization of All Power
Submitted by John Terranova (A.K.A. Johnny T)
Starting with a distinction between the sacred and the secular, I approach the question of government with the belief that both Christians and non-Christians have equal insight and wisdom concerning this realm. As a topic of general revelation, I tend to side-step questions about the divine intentions of government -- rather than trying to discover the "nature" of government, I think we are free to create what ever form of social organization we need to. Personally, the government that I like best is the government that does the best job of promoting peaceful coexistence with everybody (a sentiment I assume most people will share with me).
I think that Libertarian-Socialism offers some ideas that might help achieve this desired end. Basically, Libertarian-Socialism wants to decentralize power -- to diffuse power as much as possible. Classic Capitalist-Libertarianism shares this basic goal, but has failed to achieve it. Capitalist-Libertarianism stifles the centralization of State power, but it promotes the concentration of private power. Today, the largest multi-national corporations have more global power and influence than many countries. Just as unchecked State power can result in massive abuses, so unchecked private power can result in the same abuses -- power can be abused whether it is public or private.
Libertarianism tries to offer the individual as much personal freedom as possible. Capitalist-Libertarianism tends to judge personal freedoms in economic terms -- the more stuff people have, the more they can consume, the happier they are; it positions people as consumers, choosing our favorite brands in the market place.
Socialist-Libertarianism recognizes that people are more than consumers, and that in addition to certain economic needs, people also need free time, family and social interaction, quality of life, and quality of environment. Around 200 years of Capitalist experimentation demonstrates that concentrated private power reduces the quality of these non-economic aspects of our lives. Without labor laws, the free market creates extremely oppressive working conditions that dehumanize workers (examples include Victorian England, pre-labor law industrialized USA, and contemporary developing countries that expose their work forces to the Capitalist policies of the WTO, IMF and World Bank).
Libertarian Socialism seeks to protect individuals from oppressive public AND private power. To do this, the government would need to be strong and independent enough to resist private interests from hijacking public social structures. This strong government's role would be to ensure the public's freedom from both private and public institutions. The government would have the role of policing itself -- but since this creates problems of accountability, complete governmental transparency would be necessary. This transparency would allow for both public and private scrutiny of everything that takes place in the public domain.
Starting with a distinction between the sacred and the secular, I approach the question of government with the belief that both Christians and non-Christians have equal insight and wisdom concerning this realm. As a topic of general revelation, I tend to side-step questions about the divine intentions of government -- rather than trying to discover the "nature" of government, I think we are free to create what ever form of social organization we need to. Personally, the government that I like best is the government that does the best job of promoting peaceful coexistence with everybody (a sentiment I assume most people will share with me).
I think that Libertarian-Socialism offers some ideas that might help achieve this desired end. Basically, Libertarian-Socialism wants to decentralize power -- to diffuse power as much as possible. Classic Capitalist-Libertarianism shares this basic goal, but has failed to achieve it. Capitalist-Libertarianism stifles the centralization of State power, but it promotes the concentration of private power. Today, the largest multi-national corporations have more global power and influence than many countries. Just as unchecked State power can result in massive abuses, so unchecked private power can result in the same abuses -- power can be abused whether it is public or private.
Libertarianism tries to offer the individual as much personal freedom as possible. Capitalist-Libertarianism tends to judge personal freedoms in economic terms -- the more stuff people have, the more they can consume, the happier they are; it positions people as consumers, choosing our favorite brands in the market place.
Socialist-Libertarianism recognizes that people are more than consumers, and that in addition to certain economic needs, people also need free time, family and social interaction, quality of life, and quality of environment. Around 200 years of Capitalist experimentation demonstrates that concentrated private power reduces the quality of these non-economic aspects of our lives. Without labor laws, the free market creates extremely oppressive working conditions that dehumanize workers (examples include Victorian England, pre-labor law industrialized USA, and contemporary developing countries that expose their work forces to the Capitalist policies of the WTO, IMF and World Bank).
Libertarian Socialism seeks to protect individuals from oppressive public AND private power. To do this, the government would need to be strong and independent enough to resist private interests from hijacking public social structures. This strong government's role would be to ensure the public's freedom from both private and public institutions. The government would have the role of policing itself -- but since this creates problems of accountability, complete governmental transparency would be necessary. This transparency would allow for both public and private scrutiny of everything that takes place in the public domain.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Limited Government Defended
Submitted by Darryl Hart
In theory the two-kingdom position allows for any form of government, from monarchy to socialism conceivably. In practice though, many two-kingdom advocates like myself favor the American form of government which involves at its best constitutionalism, federalism, the separation of powers and limited government. Is there something inherently two-kingdom about this form of governance?
If you believe in the fallenness of man, and you don’t need to be a Christian to do so, then it follows that decentralizing power is a good thing. To consolidate power in one person, office, or government agency may and usually does result in abuse of power for unwholesome ends.
Historically, tyranny of the worst kind has resulted from unrestricted state power. Centralization of the state only makes such tyranny more efficient. Churches have suffered repeatedly from states without limited power. Efforts to make Puritans and Presbyterians conform to the Archbishop of Canterbury’s rule produced an anti-authoritarian streak in Anglo-American Calvinism. A similar logic lays behind the concerns of those who would try to protect the authority of parents to rear children according to their own convictions.
Churches and families are not the only sort of mediating structures that suffer when states control more areas of society than they should. Voluntary associations of all sorts, from newspapers to baseball leagues, would not exist if the state were to regulate all aspects of social life.
Limited government is counterintuitive to some because it requires trusting others to oversee their affairs. It also assumes that a measure of order will emerge from a decentralized polity. The economist, Friedrick Hayek, talked about spontaneous order arising from the seemingly disparate efforts of actors with much less authority of the state taking charge of specific segments of society. This was order from the bottom up rather than the top down. If one believes that the health of local communities is crucial to the health of a nation, then limited government is an important way to protect the prerogatives of towns, counties and regions.
The particular aspect of the two-kingdom doctrine that lends itself to limited government is the inherent recognition of two powers, the church and the state (the family is also in the mix). When you already have two authorities you automatically have some limits on each. Living with the idea of two different powers overseeing your life could well explain why 2k folks lean toward the state’s power being restricted. Its power is not the only game in town.
In theory the two-kingdom position allows for any form of government, from monarchy to socialism conceivably. In practice though, many two-kingdom advocates like myself favor the American form of government which involves at its best constitutionalism, federalism, the separation of powers and limited government. Is there something inherently two-kingdom about this form of governance?
If you believe in the fallenness of man, and you don’t need to be a Christian to do so, then it follows that decentralizing power is a good thing. To consolidate power in one person, office, or government agency may and usually does result in abuse of power for unwholesome ends.
Historically, tyranny of the worst kind has resulted from unrestricted state power. Centralization of the state only makes such tyranny more efficient. Churches have suffered repeatedly from states without limited power. Efforts to make Puritans and Presbyterians conform to the Archbishop of Canterbury’s rule produced an anti-authoritarian streak in Anglo-American Calvinism. A similar logic lays behind the concerns of those who would try to protect the authority of parents to rear children according to their own convictions.
Churches and families are not the only sort of mediating structures that suffer when states control more areas of society than they should. Voluntary associations of all sorts, from newspapers to baseball leagues, would not exist if the state were to regulate all aspects of social life.
Limited government is counterintuitive to some because it requires trusting others to oversee their affairs. It also assumes that a measure of order will emerge from a decentralized polity. The economist, Friedrick Hayek, talked about spontaneous order arising from the seemingly disparate efforts of actors with much less authority of the state taking charge of specific segments of society. This was order from the bottom up rather than the top down. If one believes that the health of local communities is crucial to the health of a nation, then limited government is an important way to protect the prerogatives of towns, counties and regions.
The particular aspect of the two-kingdom doctrine that lends itself to limited government is the inherent recognition of two powers, the church and the state (the family is also in the mix). When you already have two authorities you automatically have some limits on each. Living with the idea of two different powers overseeing your life could well explain why 2k folks lean toward the state’s power being restricted. Its power is not the only game in town.
Friday, December 14, 2007
The View from the Other End of the Club
It has been pointed out, correctly I think, that the world looks very different depending on whether you have your boot on your enemy's neck, or he has his boot on yours. While power is a sought-after commodity, there is also something to be said for the clarity that comes from being on the receiving end of the club.
Returning to Mitt Romney's appeal to allow the common morality that he shares with all people of faith to trump whatever theological differences there may be between him and evangelicals, it must be pointed out that the appeal for tolerance of minority positions is not uncommon for minorities to make.
After all, does not history demonstrate that the rights of those outside the inner circle are never bequeathed from on high, but must be won through popular struggle? Power, whether political, social, or religious, is often clutched with great jealousy lest it be lost. So if you're a woman, an immigrant, or in Romney's case, a Mormon, the clarion call is for civil liberty and the right to be treated as equals in the public square.
The evangelical church (err, excuse me: movement) has not had the best track record in according said civil liberties to those who are demanding them. You see, as long as we are in power, we will use all the muscle we can muster to win the culture war and defeat the godless, feminist, socialist Ivy-Leaguers who would just as soon surrender the American Dream to those A-rabs in the Middle East.
Sure, we can't define justification by faith if given a hundred tries, but by God we're gonna keep those gays at bay if it kills us.
Let's hope that if our millennial dreams shatter like the tables of the Decalogue and we are unseated from the corridors of power, the new occupants will be kinder and gentler than we were.
But I'm not holding my breath.
Returning to Mitt Romney's appeal to allow the common morality that he shares with all people of faith to trump whatever theological differences there may be between him and evangelicals, it must be pointed out that the appeal for tolerance of minority positions is not uncommon for minorities to make.
After all, does not history demonstrate that the rights of those outside the inner circle are never bequeathed from on high, but must be won through popular struggle? Power, whether political, social, or religious, is often clutched with great jealousy lest it be lost. So if you're a woman, an immigrant, or in Romney's case, a Mormon, the clarion call is for civil liberty and the right to be treated as equals in the public square.
The evangelical church (err, excuse me: movement) has not had the best track record in according said civil liberties to those who are demanding them. You see, as long as we are in power, we will use all the muscle we can muster to win the culture war and defeat the godless, feminist, socialist Ivy-Leaguers who would just as soon surrender the American Dream to those A-rabs in the Middle East.
Sure, we can't define justification by faith if given a hundred tries, but by God we're gonna keep those gays at bay if it kills us.
Let's hope that if our millennial dreams shatter like the tables of the Decalogue and we are unseated from the corridors of power, the new occupants will be kinder and gentler than we were.
But I'm not holding my breath.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Romney, Rodney, and the Plea to "Get Along"
It was humorously pointed out in the previous thread that it apparently takes a Mormon like Mitt Romney to recognize the fact that the minutiae of one's theology has much less bearing upon his public service than the "common morality" that he shares with all people of faith.
I'm not sure if what lay behind Romney's appeal is an example of irony, or the most obvious thing in the world.
Think about it: Experience amply demonstrates that, generally speaking, it is the underdog who pleads for leniency and the outsider who calls for tolerance. In our nation's history it wasn't white people who were marching for civil rights, it wasn't Protestants who were calling for an end to religious bigotry, and it wasn't men demanding equal pay for equal work.
As Andrew Meyer can testify, it's the guy with the taser to his chest who cries, "Don't tase me, bro!"
Part and parcel of (fallen) human nature seems to be that one must find himself against the ropes before he will employ the Rodney King defense. Whether the humans in question are religious or not, once the powerless become the powerful, it is no longer time for "just getting along," but for brandishing the sword and taking the land.
If and/or when the church in America becomes completely marginalized in the public square, our religious leaders will begin to whistle a very different tune than they have heretofore. Instead of the sabre-rattling and rhetoric of dominion, we will begin to hear our evangelical leaders make the "live and let live" appeal that their enemies presently invoke.
The problem, however, is that anyone's appeal to the same civil liberties that he has been instrumental in denying the underdog for centuries cannot but sound hypocritical and hollow.
In a word, when Bellick gets sentenced to Fox River, whatever happens next, it won't be good....
I'm not sure if what lay behind Romney's appeal is an example of irony, or the most obvious thing in the world.
Think about it: Experience amply demonstrates that, generally speaking, it is the underdog who pleads for leniency and the outsider who calls for tolerance. In our nation's history it wasn't white people who were marching for civil rights, it wasn't Protestants who were calling for an end to religious bigotry, and it wasn't men demanding equal pay for equal work.
As Andrew Meyer can testify, it's the guy with the taser to his chest who cries, "Don't tase me, bro!"
Part and parcel of (fallen) human nature seems to be that one must find himself against the ropes before he will employ the Rodney King defense. Whether the humans in question are religious or not, once the powerless become the powerful, it is no longer time for "just getting along," but for brandishing the sword and taking the land.
If and/or when the church in America becomes completely marginalized in the public square, our religious leaders will begin to whistle a very different tune than they have heretofore. Instead of the sabre-rattling and rhetoric of dominion, we will begin to hear our evangelical leaders make the "live and let live" appeal that their enemies presently invoke.
The problem, however, is that anyone's appeal to the same civil liberties that he has been instrumental in denying the underdog for centuries cannot but sound hypocritical and hollow.
In a word, when Bellick gets sentenced to Fox River, whatever happens next, it won't be good....
Sunday, December 09, 2007
Why Split Doctrinal Hairs?
If you've not yet read D.G. Hart's piece entitled "Jeffersonians All" I would warmly commend it. In it, Darryl draws an interesting parallel between the sentiments expressed by our nation's third President and those of Mitt Romney, the Mormon campaigning for the GOP nomination, in his recent much-discussed speech.
Romney's "Jeffersonian moment," Hart argues, came not when he assured his hearers (as did JFK during his presidential bid) that if elected he would vow to uphold the Constitution of the United States, and not the Book of Mormon or the doctrines of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Instead, Hart argues:
For this turning of the faith-based tables Romney should be commended, for he has articulated what many have been thinking all along: Advocates of religion in public life have never cared about doctrinal precision, so as long as one's religion affirms the correct political ideals, then what's the harm?
After all, if the spiritual kingdom is destined to be the handmaiden of the State anyway, then why split hairs?
Romney's "Jeffersonian moment," Hart argues, came not when he assured his hearers (as did JFK during his presidential bid) that if elected he would vow to uphold the Constitution of the United States, and not the Book of Mormon or the doctrines of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Instead, Hart argues:
"The actual Jeffersonian moment came just before his appeal to the separation of church and state. Romney ran through the religious virtues of fellow believers, from the profundity of the Roman Catholic Mass to the prayer life of Muslims. He then said, 'It is important to recognize that while differences in theology exist between the churches in America, we share a common creed of moral convictions.' The 'great moral principles,' he explained, 'urge us on a common course.' Romney... affirmed Jefferson’s view that theology doesn't matter compared to ethics. An American may believe that Jesus was born of the Virgin Mary, that there are three persons in one God, or that men and women have the potential to become gods. But as long as he or she believes in the nation's great moral principles they make darned good neighbors."The irony of Romney's appeal to ethics over doctrine, Hart argues, is that it is usually only employed by evangelical Protestants, or Roman Catholics like Kennedy, whose churches at least affirm the Trinity and deity of Christ. But when a Mormon plays the deeds-over-creeds card, those Christians who are uncomfortable with the idea of a Latter-Day Saint in the White House all of a sudden become very theologically scrupulous and doctrinaire (I mean, the culture war is at stake here!).
For this turning of the faith-based tables Romney should be commended, for he has articulated what many have been thinking all along: Advocates of religion in public life have never cared about doctrinal precision, so as long as one's religion affirms the correct political ideals, then what's the harm?
After all, if the spiritual kingdom is destined to be the handmaiden of the State anyway, then why split hairs?
Thursday, December 06, 2007
On Hermetic Sealing, Overlap, and Boys Who Cry "Wolf!"
I have been noticing some misunderstandings with respect to the doctrine of the two kingdoms that I'd like to try to clear up, if I may.
First, two-kingdoms theology does not teach that one may not factor in any of his Christian presuppositions when considering an a-religious topic. As some of my faithful readers have ably pointed out, no individual can seal his various viewpoints off with such hermetical precision.
While we distinguish between what the Bible clearly teaches and that to which it may be loosely applied (think the Trinity and economics respectively), we still may say that my view of the latter may be informed by certain theological presuppositions about, say, the imago Dei. But we must also allow that another who shares those presuppositions may come to a different conclusion about the issue in question.
Secondly, two-kingdoms thinking does not deny that there is cultic/cultural intersection and overlap in discussion about difficult issues. But it is crucial to remember that the tension does not lie in the kingdoms themselves. The kingdom of Christ is concerned with spiritual and eternal affairs and advances by Word and sacrament. The kingdom of man, on the other hand, is furthered by carnal weaponry for earthly and temporal ends. Both are legitimate and God-ordained, but distinct nonetheless.
I, however, happen to live in both of them, and hence the tension. Though for the most part I can distinguish a secular issue from a sacred one, that doesn't mean that I can as easily identify where my own existential lines are drawn.
Finally, we must realize that the more contemporary issues to which we seek to apply the Bible, the less authoritative the Bible will become in the eyes of the world. In the same way that paying off our nation's debts by printing a few trillion dollars will devalue our currency, so citing chapter and verse to prove both justification by faith alone and the value of laissez faire economics will only serve to lessen rather than increase its relevance. If you're going to cry "Wolf!", there'd better really be one, at least if you want the townsfolk to take you seriously.
First, two-kingdoms theology does not teach that one may not factor in any of his Christian presuppositions when considering an a-religious topic. As some of my faithful readers have ably pointed out, no individual can seal his various viewpoints off with such hermetical precision.
While we distinguish between what the Bible clearly teaches and that to which it may be loosely applied (think the Trinity and economics respectively), we still may say that my view of the latter may be informed by certain theological presuppositions about, say, the imago Dei. But we must also allow that another who shares those presuppositions may come to a different conclusion about the issue in question.
Secondly, two-kingdoms thinking does not deny that there is cultic/cultural intersection and overlap in discussion about difficult issues. But it is crucial to remember that the tension does not lie in the kingdoms themselves. The kingdom of Christ is concerned with spiritual and eternal affairs and advances by Word and sacrament. The kingdom of man, on the other hand, is furthered by carnal weaponry for earthly and temporal ends. Both are legitimate and God-ordained, but distinct nonetheless.
I, however, happen to live in both of them, and hence the tension. Though for the most part I can distinguish a secular issue from a sacred one, that doesn't mean that I can as easily identify where my own existential lines are drawn.
Finally, we must realize that the more contemporary issues to which we seek to apply the Bible, the less authoritative the Bible will become in the eyes of the world. In the same way that paying off our nation's debts by printing a few trillion dollars will devalue our currency, so citing chapter and verse to prove both justification by faith alone and the value of laissez faire economics will only serve to lessen rather than increase its relevance. If you're going to cry "Wolf!", there'd better really be one, at least if you want the townsfolk to take you seriously.
Monday, December 03, 2007
The Hermeneutics of Convenience
I find it interesting how arbitrary we Christians can be with respect to what we think is Scripture's clear position on various hot-button issues. What most discussions amount to, at the end of the day, is that the Bible condemns all the things I don't like, while the things I approve of either enjoy the divine stamp of approval, or are at the most unaddressed, or murkily so.
So if you're an American evangelical, then the Bible obviously condemns abortion, while the War on Terror is tantamount to Israel's storming of Jericho. The fact that the former position rests on little direct biblical evidence while the latter rests on bad eschatology seldom comes up, if at all.
If you're a European or British Christian, on the other hand, you are most likely passionately in favor of movements like Make Trade Fair and movies like SiCKO (both of which are considered by Americans as rather liberal).
The same "wink, wink" tactics are employed in the political arena. While Republicans and Democrats disagree over whether the Iraq War is being fought correctly, there is little discussion over whether the U.S. has the right to invade other countries if it sees fit to do so. The two parties may differ on the degree to which the federal government should spend money on social programs for the poor, but there is complete agreement on the glories of the free market.
Regardless of which kingdom we're dealing with, and of what our personal convictions may be with respect to it, it is certainly a healthy thing to lay aside the hermeneutics of convenience every now and then and allow our sacred cows to be challenged. Maybe we'll end up standing our ground, but at least we'll have the benefit of saying that we weren't afraid of a little scrutiny now and again.
So if you're an American evangelical, then the Bible obviously condemns abortion, while the War on Terror is tantamount to Israel's storming of Jericho. The fact that the former position rests on little direct biblical evidence while the latter rests on bad eschatology seldom comes up, if at all.
If you're a European or British Christian, on the other hand, you are most likely passionately in favor of movements like Make Trade Fair and movies like SiCKO (both of which are considered by Americans as rather liberal).
The same "wink, wink" tactics are employed in the political arena. While Republicans and Democrats disagree over whether the Iraq War is being fought correctly, there is little discussion over whether the U.S. has the right to invade other countries if it sees fit to do so. The two parties may differ on the degree to which the federal government should spend money on social programs for the poor, but there is complete agreement on the glories of the free market.
Regardless of which kingdom we're dealing with, and of what our personal convictions may be with respect to it, it is certainly a healthy thing to lay aside the hermeneutics of convenience every now and then and allow our sacred cows to be challenged. Maybe we'll end up standing our ground, but at least we'll have the benefit of saying that we weren't afraid of a little scrutiny now and again.
Friday, November 30, 2007
The Invisible Hand, the Invisible Foot
In The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism (1905), Max Weber drew a line connecting Calvinism and Capitalism, arguing that free-market ideology was much more likely to thrive in Protestant countries than in Roman Catholic ones.
I find it interesting that according to what has been called "The Protestant Work Ethic," the more financially successful a person is, the more we are supposed to believe that God has blessed him. "Look at how well-off Bill is! God must be blessing his business, for he sure seems to be doing something right."
Is it a mere coincidence that the two phenomena that share the metaphor of "The Invisible Hand" are Divine Providence and the Free Market?
Most Christians will acknowledge that God's Providence is outside the bounds of human control. Just as "the Spirit blows where he wishes," so "the Lord will have his way among the inhabitants of earth, and none can stay his hand or ask, 'What doest thou?'"
But is the Market equally "free"? Does it mysteriously bless whom it will, while passing by others with a sovereign aloofness and nonchalance?
I would question my Reformed Libertarian readers whether the giving of massive campaign contributions on the part of huge corporations in return for the ability to influence labor laws, thereby enabling companies to exploit workers, is an example of "free market principles," or whether it is the abuse of power for profit.
Further, I would question why a society that provides aid for the poor is labeled "a nanny state" while a culture that, through tax breaks and economic subsidies, allows its CEOs to make 400 times what their average workers earn is called a "democracy."
Could it be that the real question is not whether there should be welfare, but rather, who should get it?
Could it be that while the wealthy enjoy the invisible hand of the market, the poor feel nothing but its invisible foot?
I find it interesting that according to what has been called "The Protestant Work Ethic," the more financially successful a person is, the more we are supposed to believe that God has blessed him. "Look at how well-off Bill is! God must be blessing his business, for he sure seems to be doing something right."
Is it a mere coincidence that the two phenomena that share the metaphor of "The Invisible Hand" are Divine Providence and the Free Market?
Most Christians will acknowledge that God's Providence is outside the bounds of human control. Just as "the Spirit blows where he wishes," so "the Lord will have his way among the inhabitants of earth, and none can stay his hand or ask, 'What doest thou?'"
But is the Market equally "free"? Does it mysteriously bless whom it will, while passing by others with a sovereign aloofness and nonchalance?
I would question my Reformed Libertarian readers whether the giving of massive campaign contributions on the part of huge corporations in return for the ability to influence labor laws, thereby enabling companies to exploit workers, is an example of "free market principles," or whether it is the abuse of power for profit.
Further, I would question why a society that provides aid for the poor is labeled "a nanny state" while a culture that, through tax breaks and economic subsidies, allows its CEOs to make 400 times what their average workers earn is called a "democracy."
Could it be that the real question is not whether there should be welfare, but rather, who should get it?
Could it be that while the wealthy enjoy the invisible hand of the market, the poor feel nothing but its invisible foot?
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Strict Subscription to the Constitution?
I argued in my last post that the Reformed penchant for limited government, particularly when appeal is made to Romans 13, seems to undermine the two-kingdoms position. For some, of course, this presents no problem whatsoever. But for many two-kingdoms proponents, libertarianism seems to follow as a matter of course. To these, I would ask why the civil and spiritual kingdoms aren't left distinct, but culture is forced to play its game within the confines of a cultic rulebook.
Some two-kingdoms libertarians, however, may respond that Romans 13 has nothing to do with their political persuasion that the government should be limited to a small handful of tasks such as punishing bad guys.
To these I would respond that the claim that Reformed Christians' desire for limited government is a-biblical certainly seems suspicious, given that the Good Book has a chapter in a pretty well-known epistle containing a limited list of functions for the "powers that be" to perform.
Moreover, If I had a nickel for every time Romans 13 was invoked in political discussion with fellow Reformed believers, I'd have a dollar, maybe even more.
Still, the appeal could be made not to the Bible but to the Constitution to substantiate a more limited government. "The Constitution," the argument goes, "only allows the government to do certain things. Going beyond these, therefore, is wrong."
Just as the limited government argument seems to apply the regulative principle of worship to the culture (thus disolving the distinction between the civil and spiritual kingdoms), so the argument from the limited warrant of the Constitution seems to apply the rules of strict confessional subscription to the documents that govern the State as well as the Church.
If we two-kingdoms folks are going to continue to boast in letting the Church be the Church, and the State the State, then whatever our political persuasions, let us justify them by an appeal to their own rules, and not to the rules of another kingdom altogether.
Some two-kingdoms libertarians, however, may respond that Romans 13 has nothing to do with their political persuasion that the government should be limited to a small handful of tasks such as punishing bad guys.
To these I would respond that the claim that Reformed Christians' desire for limited government is a-biblical certainly seems suspicious, given that the Good Book has a chapter in a pretty well-known epistle containing a limited list of functions for the "powers that be" to perform.
Moreover, If I had a nickel for every time Romans 13 was invoked in political discussion with fellow Reformed believers, I'd have a dollar, maybe even more.
Still, the appeal could be made not to the Bible but to the Constitution to substantiate a more limited government. "The Constitution," the argument goes, "only allows the government to do certain things. Going beyond these, therefore, is wrong."
Just as the limited government argument seems to apply the regulative principle of worship to the culture (thus disolving the distinction between the civil and spiritual kingdoms), so the argument from the limited warrant of the Constitution seems to apply the rules of strict confessional subscription to the documents that govern the State as well as the Church.
If we two-kingdoms folks are going to continue to boast in letting the Church be the Church, and the State the State, then whatever our political persuasions, let us justify them by an appeal to their own rules, and not to the rules of another kingdom altogether.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
The Regulative Principle of Culture?
The churches of the Reformation differ from their Lutheran, Anglican, and evangelical brethren in that they reject the claim that whatever the Bible does not prohibit in public worship is therefore permitted, but insist that whatever the Bible does not prescribe is therefore prohibited. In a word, God is not interested in our "strange fire" (just ask Nadab and Abihu).
The fact that there are two kingdoms, however, has led us to affirm the opposite with respect to the culture, namely, that what is not forbidden is (all things being equal) allowed.
Enter Ron Paul....
Presidential candidate Ron Paul, who is really a Libertarian in Republican dress, has become quite popular among many Reformed believers, particularly those with a strong two-kingdoms paradigm. The role of government, according to Christians sympathetic to libertarianism, is to be limited to those functions outlined in Romans 13:1-7 (to approve the good, to punish the evil, to bear the sword, and to collect taxes). Other functions such as public education, the postal service, and Social Security are to be turned over to the private sector since the federal government has no business meddling with these services.
Although two-kingdoms proponents rightly insist that the civil and spiritual powers remain in their respective God-ordained corners, it seems to me that limiting government the way Reformed libertarians do actually undermines the two-kingdoms position by forcing culture to play by a cultic rulebook.
If the sacred and secular realms are in fact distinct, and if the Reformed churches are correct in erecting a higher hurdle for what is permissible in the former sphere, then why must we limit the role of government exclusively to those few functions listed in Romans 13?
If culture must play by the church's rules as Christian libertarians insist, then why do you call yourself a two-kingdoms proponent? Or if the church may adopt the playbook of the culture as John Frame argues, then why do you call yourself Reformed?
The fact that there are two kingdoms, however, has led us to affirm the opposite with respect to the culture, namely, that what is not forbidden is (all things being equal) allowed.
Enter Ron Paul....
Presidential candidate Ron Paul, who is really a Libertarian in Republican dress, has become quite popular among many Reformed believers, particularly those with a strong two-kingdoms paradigm. The role of government, according to Christians sympathetic to libertarianism, is to be limited to those functions outlined in Romans 13:1-7 (to approve the good, to punish the evil, to bear the sword, and to collect taxes). Other functions such as public education, the postal service, and Social Security are to be turned over to the private sector since the federal government has no business meddling with these services.
Although two-kingdoms proponents rightly insist that the civil and spiritual powers remain in their respective God-ordained corners, it seems to me that limiting government the way Reformed libertarians do actually undermines the two-kingdoms position by forcing culture to play by a cultic rulebook.
If the sacred and secular realms are in fact distinct, and if the Reformed churches are correct in erecting a higher hurdle for what is permissible in the former sphere, then why must we limit the role of government exclusively to those few functions listed in Romans 13?
If culture must play by the church's rules as Christian libertarians insist, then why do you call yourself a two-kingdoms proponent? Or if the church may adopt the playbook of the culture as John Frame argues, then why do you call yourself Reformed?
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Assurance Through Action
Because the soul is not only affected by the consideration of religious things, it must be remembered that the mere presence of affections does not prove the presence of true religion. Edwards listed various examples of affections which are neither proof of the presence of true religion nor proof of its absence.
Edwards argued that true religious affections arise only from those influences of the Spirit of God that are saving and not common. In other words, the Holy Spirit’s saving influences are not saving merely because they are to a high degree, but because they are of another kind. Therefore to have true assurance of salvation we must see to it that our affections arise from these influences of the Spirit that only true Christians can experience (for example, love for divine things for their inherent excellency, delight in the loveliness of the moral excellency of divine things, &c.).
The supreme sign, according to Edwards, is seen when gracious and holy affections have their exercise and fruit in Christian practice:
Edwards argued that true religious affections arise only from those influences of the Spirit of God that are saving and not common. In other words, the Holy Spirit’s saving influences are not saving merely because they are to a high degree, but because they are of another kind. Therefore to have true assurance of salvation we must see to it that our affections arise from these influences of the Spirit that only true Christians can experience (for example, love for divine things for their inherent excellency, delight in the loveliness of the moral excellency of divine things, &c.).
The supreme sign, according to Edwards, is seen when gracious and holy affections have their exercise and fruit in Christian practice:
"Assurance is not to be obtained so much by self-examination as by action.... Holy practice is as much the end of all that God does about his saints, as fruit is the end of all the hubandman does about the growth of his field or vineyard."My main critique of Edwards is that his entire schema gives rise to questions that simply did not seem to occur to Calvin, or more importantly, to Paul (questions like, "How do I know I believe?"). In fact, in my days as an Edwardsian I even began to wonder how Paul could make everything seem so simple.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Edwardsian Anthropology
"The affections," writes Jonathan Edwards, "are no other than the more vigorous and sensible exercises of the inclination and will of the soul.”
Edwards taught that God has endued the soul with two faculties; the first is that by which the soul perceives, discerns, and views things (the understanding), and the second is that by which the soul does not merely perceive things, but is in some way inclined with respect to the things it perceives, either to them, or disinclined from them (the will / heart).
This second exercise of the soul happens in varying degrees:
To those "enthusiasts" who understood any vigorous display of emotion as evidence of the Spirit's work, Edwards countered that while most emotion is merely common and not spiritual, true and genuine emotion must be the result of some fact, outside of us, that is grasped by the mind. In other words, gaining a fresh understanding of the sufferings of Christ or the eternal hope of the saint not only must precede genuine affection, but must produce it as a matter of course.
It sounds similar to the argument I was making some weeks back that the eschatological always precedes the existential, the historia salutis grounds the ordo salutis, and that "psalms of rememberance" lead to "psalms of trust."
Sure, Edwards gets kooky later in the book, but you have to admit that he does seem to be on to something here....
Edwards taught that God has endued the soul with two faculties; the first is that by which the soul perceives, discerns, and views things (the understanding), and the second is that by which the soul does not merely perceive things, but is in some way inclined with respect to the things it perceives, either to them, or disinclined from them (the will / heart).
This second exercise of the soul happens in varying degrees:
"It is to be noted that they are these more vigorous and sensible exercises of this faculty that are called affections."Furthermore, these affections, though they take place in the soul, inevitably effect the body:
"Such seems to be our nature, and such are the laws of the union of soul and body, that there never is in any case whatsoever, any lively and vigorous exercise of the will or inclination of the soul without some effect on the body."What is interesting to me about Edwards's formulations is that they arose in the context of a two-fold battle that he was fighting against the Awakening's enemies on the one hand, and against its friends on the other (and the case could be made that he was harder on the latter).
To those "enthusiasts" who understood any vigorous display of emotion as evidence of the Spirit's work, Edwards countered that while most emotion is merely common and not spiritual, true and genuine emotion must be the result of some fact, outside of us, that is grasped by the mind. In other words, gaining a fresh understanding of the sufferings of Christ or the eternal hope of the saint not only must precede genuine affection, but must produce it as a matter of course.
It sounds similar to the argument I was making some weeks back that the eschatological always precedes the existential, the historia salutis grounds the ordo salutis, and that "psalms of rememberance" lead to "psalms of trust."
Sure, Edwards gets kooky later in the book, but you have to admit that he does seem to be on to something here....
Monday, November 19, 2007
Jonathan Edwards and the Religious Affections
I entered Westminster Seminary California a pretty devout Edwardsian, and yet as I spent most of the summer of 2002 doing preparatory research for a directed study project with Dr. D.G. Hart on Edwards's versus Calvin's view of assurance (the paper was titled What Hath Geneva to do with Northampton?), my sympathies shifted from the eighteenth- to the sixteenth century, and from Massachusetts to Switzerland.
At present, the main thing I have in common with Jonathan Edwards is that I hate wasting paper....
Still, I have always appreciated his Treatise Concerning Religious Affections. Well, let me clarify that. That last part, you know, the part about how we can only know that we're true believers because we love God for his inherent excellencies, and not because of the benefits we derive from him? Not a huge fan of that part.
But his thesis at the beginning of the book is that true religion largely consists in the realm of the affections, which he defines as "the more vigorous and sensible exercises of the inclination and will of the soul." In other words, an "affection" for Edwards is not saying "OK" when you are asked, "Would you like fries with that?" Rather, an affection occurs when the soul responds vigorously to information received (Think fainting upon learning you've won the lottery).
According to Edwards, things like love for God, hatred of sin, and hope in the fulfillment of divine promises are all affections, and he therefore argues that "as there is no true religion where there is nothing else but affection, so there is no true religion where there is no religious affection."
I plan to interact with Edwards's treatise over the next few posts, but if you have some preliminary thoughts (and I know you do), let's hear 'em....
At present, the main thing I have in common with Jonathan Edwards is that I hate wasting paper....
Still, I have always appreciated his Treatise Concerning Religious Affections. Well, let me clarify that. That last part, you know, the part about how we can only know that we're true believers because we love God for his inherent excellencies, and not because of the benefits we derive from him? Not a huge fan of that part.
But his thesis at the beginning of the book is that true religion largely consists in the realm of the affections, which he defines as "the more vigorous and sensible exercises of the inclination and will of the soul." In other words, an "affection" for Edwards is not saying "OK" when you are asked, "Would you like fries with that?" Rather, an affection occurs when the soul responds vigorously to information received (Think fainting upon learning you've won the lottery).
According to Edwards, things like love for God, hatred of sin, and hope in the fulfillment of divine promises are all affections, and he therefore argues that "as there is no true religion where there is nothing else but affection, so there is no true religion where there is no religious affection."
I plan to interact with Edwards's treatise over the next few posts, but if you have some preliminary thoughts (and I know you do), let's hear 'em....
Thursday, November 15, 2007
On Whipping-Boys and Collective Growth
"Revivals," insists John Williamson Nevin,
"You instruct the members of your congregation to kneel during the confession of sin and raise their hands while singing the Gloria Patri? But Catholics and charismatics do those things!"
I can't help but wonder whether we do the same thing with revival.
Yeah, I get it: Finney was a bad guy and contemporary evangelicalism is obsessed with the Gnostic and novel over the tried and true. But if the highest of high churchmen, a man who lived to see the effects of revivalism first hand, was still willing to boldly lay claim to the phenomenon of revival despite its being highjacked by fanatics, then maybe we don't need to be so afraid of it.
Think about it this way: What is growth in the Christian life but increasing in faith, love, and various other graces through the proper use of the means Jesus has appointed for these ends? Well, is it not possible for growth to happen in a church in the same way it does for an individual believer?
And what do you call that?
"... are as old as the gospel itself. Special effusions of the Spirit the Church has a right to expect in every age, in proportion as she is found faithful to God's covenant; and where such effusions take place, an extraordinary use of the ordinary means of grace will appear, as a matter of course" (The Anxious Bench, 15-16).I have observed on several occasions the propensity of Reformed believers to define ourselves negatively, over against what we reject rather than according to what we actually affirm. The subtle perception is that we need a foil or whipping boy in order to figure out who we are.
"You instruct the members of your congregation to kneel during the confession of sin and raise their hands while singing the Gloria Patri? But Catholics and charismatics do those things!"
I can't help but wonder whether we do the same thing with revival.
Yeah, I get it: Finney was a bad guy and contemporary evangelicalism is obsessed with the Gnostic and novel over the tried and true. But if the highest of high churchmen, a man who lived to see the effects of revivalism first hand, was still willing to boldly lay claim to the phenomenon of revival despite its being highjacked by fanatics, then maybe we don't need to be so afraid of it.
Think about it this way: What is growth in the Christian life but increasing in faith, love, and various other graces through the proper use of the means Jesus has appointed for these ends? Well, is it not possible for growth to happen in a church in the same way it does for an individual believer?
And what do you call that?
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Antirevivalist Revival?
High churchman and general enemy of all things revivalistic John Williamson Nevin writes:
But such images would have been suggested even more strongly to people's minds in Nevin's day, and yet he refused to surrender the term, or to allow the phenomenon to be highjacked by well-meaning but fanatical revivalists.
"It is a most unfair view of the system of the Catechism to think of it or speak of it as unfriendly to all special and extraordinary forms of action in the work of the gospel. The system, it is true, makes more account of the regular, the ordinary, and the general than it does of the occasional and the special....I agree with the comments under the previous post to the effect that the term "revival" conjures up all sort of nasty images from unfettered emotionalism in general to barking in the Spirit in particular.
"The extraordinary in this case, however, is found to stand in the ordinary, and grows forth from it without violence, so as to bear the same character of natural and free power. It is not the water-spout, but the fruitful, plentiful shower, causing the fields to sing, and the trees of the wood to clap their hands for joy. Such is the concept of a Revival.
"For such special showers of grace, it is the privilege of the Church to hope, and her duty to pray, at all times. To call into question the reality or the desirableness of them, is a monstrous skepticism, that may be said to border on the sin of infidelity itself.
"[Revivals] are the natural product of the proper life of the Church. Wherever the system of the Catechism is rightly understood, and faithfully applied, it may be expected to generate revivals in this form" (The Anxious Bench, 72-73, emphasis original).
But such images would have been suggested even more strongly to people's minds in Nevin's day, and yet he refused to surrender the term, or to allow the phenomenon to be highjacked by well-meaning but fanatical revivalists.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Revive Us Again, O Lord
Iain Murray has described the phenomenon of revial as
In his book Revival and Revivalism, Murray argues that a categorical distinction must be made between the revivals of the Great Awakening (c. 1735-1742) and the revivalism of the Second Great Awakening (c. 1820-1830s). The leaders of the former - men like Jonathan Edwards and George Whitefield - were staunch Calvinists, while the latter was led by none other than the outspoken Pelagian Charles Grandison Finney.
Critics of Murray argue that, while the theology of the first Great Awakening was undoubtedly preferable to that of the second, the seeds of excess and anti-ecclesiastical fanaticism were sown long before Finney rode into town.
So what do you think? Is Murray's thesis legitimate? Does revival, despite its abuses, have a genuine place in Reformed ecclesiology?
"... an outpouring of the Holy Spirit... resulting in a new degree of life in the churches and a widespread movement of grace among the unconverted. It is an extraordinary communication of the Spirit of God, a superabundance of the Spirit’s operations, an enlargement of his manifest power."A simpler way of puting it would be that a revival is an extraordinary degree of blessing upon the ordinary means of grace.
In his book Revival and Revivalism, Murray argues that a categorical distinction must be made between the revivals of the Great Awakening (c. 1735-1742) and the revivalism of the Second Great Awakening (c. 1820-1830s). The leaders of the former - men like Jonathan Edwards and George Whitefield - were staunch Calvinists, while the latter was led by none other than the outspoken Pelagian Charles Grandison Finney.
Critics of Murray argue that, while the theology of the first Great Awakening was undoubtedly preferable to that of the second, the seeds of excess and anti-ecclesiastical fanaticism were sown long before Finney rode into town.
So what do you think? Is Murray's thesis legitimate? Does revival, despite its abuses, have a genuine place in Reformed ecclesiology?
Thursday, November 08, 2007
The Doctor is In
Appeal has been made to Calvin's "four-office view" to legitimize theological innovation in our churches. "Is there not a place for 'doctors of the church,'" we are asked, "whose job is to labor in the Word, but from the study and not from the pulpit?" Furthermore, it has been urged in this connection that to the trailblazer should go the benefit of the doubt. In other words, if a man is sincerely seeking to further the theological or exegetical conversation, then back off and give him some space.
Some thoughts, if I may....
First, Paul does list "pastors" and "teachers" as abiding New Testament officers given to the church by the ascended Christ. Though many attempt to combine these two into one office using Granville Sharp's canon, the fact is that this Greek rule only applies to singular nouns joined by kai, and poimenas and didaskalous are both plural. It is possible, therefore, that Paul is arguing that there is a teaching office in the church distinct from that of pastor (and to those holding the traditional three-office view, this would not apply to those whom we call "ruling elders").
Secondly, the case could be made that seminary professors fill just such an office. They are ordained ministers of the Word, and yet they do not shepherd a particular flock, but are called by their respective presbyteries or classes to minister in the context of the academy.
Thirdly (building on my second point), these "doctors of the church" are called by their ecclesiastical communions to do what they do, they do not appoint themselves for the task.
Fourthly, "doctors of the church" who are called by their governing bodies to do theology must actually be trained in theology. If you are scratching your head wondering why I feel the need to mention something so obvious, just forget I brought it up and move on....
Given these qualifications, I think that a church's calling gifted and trained men to further our various biblical/theological discussions could be a healthy way to maintain our confessional identity without sticking our collective heads in the sand.
Thoughts?
Some thoughts, if I may....
First, Paul does list "pastors" and "teachers" as abiding New Testament officers given to the church by the ascended Christ. Though many attempt to combine these two into one office using Granville Sharp's canon, the fact is that this Greek rule only applies to singular nouns joined by kai, and poimenas and didaskalous are both plural. It is possible, therefore, that Paul is arguing that there is a teaching office in the church distinct from that of pastor (and to those holding the traditional three-office view, this would not apply to those whom we call "ruling elders").
Secondly, the case could be made that seminary professors fill just such an office. They are ordained ministers of the Word, and yet they do not shepherd a particular flock, but are called by their respective presbyteries or classes to minister in the context of the academy.
Thirdly (building on my second point), these "doctors of the church" are called by their ecclesiastical communions to do what they do, they do not appoint themselves for the task.
Fourthly, "doctors of the church" who are called by their governing bodies to do theology must actually be trained in theology. If you are scratching your head wondering why I feel the need to mention something so obvious, just forget I brought it up and move on....
Given these qualifications, I think that a church's calling gifted and trained men to further our various biblical/theological discussions could be a healthy way to maintain our confessional identity without sticking our collective heads in the sand.
Thoughts?
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Semper Deformanda?
The ease with which we often throw around the supposed trademark slogan of the Reformation, "Semper Reformanda" ("Always Reforming") invites a couple questions:
What is the origin of this phrase? Who uttered it first, and where?
I don't know the answer, so I'm honestly asking. What I do know, however, is that those who quote the mantra thus are quoting it wrongly. The full phrase is "Reformata, Semper Reformanda," which means "Reformed, Always Reforming." So whether or not this slogan deserves its near-canonical status, it at least deserves to be quoted in full to say that before a church can be always reforming, it needs to first be Reformed.
There are a couple different reasons, it seems, why people quote this slogan. Some are carefully and skillfully advancing the Reformed discussion with fresh exegetical and systematic insight (Michael Horton's four-volume project comes to mind, as does the work of men like Vos, Ridderbos, Kline, and Moo).
Others, however, conveniently omit the first part of the slogan in what appears to be an effort to undermine whatever confessional content and theological identity the Reformed churches once enjoyed.
So if you think you might be a theological trailblazer, but aren't sure which of these two categories you fall into, a good way to gauge your situation is to ask yourself if your views have gained a hearing among the godly and wise men of the church. If the brethren to whom you've vowed to submit recognize in your work the advancement of the biblical and confessional conversation, then, as the Kiwis in my family would say, good on ya.
If, on the other hand, you've failed to gain even a marginal following among the various luminaries of the Reformed world, then it may be time to go back to the drawing board.
I think it was Samuel Miller who remarked that those who decry creeds and confessions are usually those whose views are condemned by them. The question of the hour, therefore, is which will it be, Semper Reformanda or Semper Deformanda?
What is the origin of this phrase? Who uttered it first, and where?
I don't know the answer, so I'm honestly asking. What I do know, however, is that those who quote the mantra thus are quoting it wrongly. The full phrase is "Reformata, Semper Reformanda," which means "Reformed, Always Reforming." So whether or not this slogan deserves its near-canonical status, it at least deserves to be quoted in full to say that before a church can be always reforming, it needs to first be Reformed.
There are a couple different reasons, it seems, why people quote this slogan. Some are carefully and skillfully advancing the Reformed discussion with fresh exegetical and systematic insight (Michael Horton's four-volume project comes to mind, as does the work of men like Vos, Ridderbos, Kline, and Moo).
Others, however, conveniently omit the first part of the slogan in what appears to be an effort to undermine whatever confessional content and theological identity the Reformed churches once enjoyed.
So if you think you might be a theological trailblazer, but aren't sure which of these two categories you fall into, a good way to gauge your situation is to ask yourself if your views have gained a hearing among the godly and wise men of the church. If the brethren to whom you've vowed to submit recognize in your work the advancement of the biblical and confessional conversation, then, as the Kiwis in my family would say, good on ya.
If, on the other hand, you've failed to gain even a marginal following among the various luminaries of the Reformed world, then it may be time to go back to the drawing board.
I think it was Samuel Miller who remarked that those who decry creeds and confessions are usually those whose views are condemned by them. The question of the hour, therefore, is which will it be, Semper Reformanda or Semper Deformanda?
Sunday, November 04, 2007
On Narrow Confessions and Broad Catholicity
It has been suggested in the comments under the previous post that our Federal Visionist brethren, since they borrow from a host of different traditions, are the least individualist and schmismatic people in the entire Reformed world.
But if early twentieth-century liberalism and late twentieth-century evangelicalism (or "evangeliberalism" for those of you who like combining stuff) have taught us anything, it is that having a "least-common denominator" approach to church is a bad idea, for if the prize goes to the folks with the most catholicity and fewest distinctives, then we can always find more fat to trim off to win it.
I'll see your total depravity and raise you the deity of Christ....
For my own part, I'd rather enjoy a spiritual, grassroots unity with all believers, while maintaining institutional and churchly unity with those who hold to the confessions of my church. And as for those who deny the gospel, well, I don't feel the need to have any unity with them at all (at least not in the kingdom of Christ, but if they want to sit down and talk about the Kobe/Shaq Lakers or when U2's last great album was released, I'll buy the ale).
But if we exalt the intangible and noncorporeal kind of unity to the exclusion of the unity that is embodied in actual traditions (you know, the kind with borders that define who they are), then whatever else we may call ourselves, we will have to add "Gnostic" to the top of the list.
So yes, like our "postmodern" emergent friends, the fellas in the Federal Vision camp love to pick and choose from various Christian traditions and weave it all into an interesting cloth. But like all those throughout modernity, the filter through which these various elements must pass is still the autonomous individual.
Maybe the biblicist apple doesn't fall far from the Kartesian tree after all....
But if early twentieth-century liberalism and late twentieth-century evangelicalism (or "evangeliberalism" for those of you who like combining stuff) have taught us anything, it is that having a "least-common denominator" approach to church is a bad idea, for if the prize goes to the folks with the most catholicity and fewest distinctives, then we can always find more fat to trim off to win it.
I'll see your total depravity and raise you the deity of Christ....
For my own part, I'd rather enjoy a spiritual, grassroots unity with all believers, while maintaining institutional and churchly unity with those who hold to the confessions of my church. And as for those who deny the gospel, well, I don't feel the need to have any unity with them at all (at least not in the kingdom of Christ, but if they want to sit down and talk about the Kobe/Shaq Lakers or when U2's last great album was released, I'll buy the ale).
But if we exalt the intangible and noncorporeal kind of unity to the exclusion of the unity that is embodied in actual traditions (you know, the kind with borders that define who they are), then whatever else we may call ourselves, we will have to add "Gnostic" to the top of the list.
So yes, like our "postmodern" emergent friends, the fellas in the Federal Vision camp love to pick and choose from various Christian traditions and weave it all into an interesting cloth. But like all those throughout modernity, the filter through which these various elements must pass is still the autonomous individual.
Maybe the biblicist apple doesn't fall far from the Kartesian tree after all....
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Watch Your Language!
The first time I ever spoke to a Jehovah's Witness I came away thinking, "OK, I know we're supposed to think they're a cult and all, but what's wrong with them, exactly?" I mean, they used all the right words, like "grace" and "Jesus" and "salvation," but they meant something completely different by them than I did.
One of the most challenging aspects of dialoguing with our friends in the Federal Vision camp is evident at this very point. So much preliminary work has to be done defining terms like "faith," "imputation," and "justification" that often the dialogue never really gets off the ground, and when it does, there's lots of talking past one another.
And calm down, I'm not comparing Federal Visionists to Jehovah's Witnesses (are Jay-Dubs even allowed to have beards?)
It is at this very point that the crucial and rarely appreciated distinction between "Tradition 1" and "Tradition 0" comes into play. If I have vowed allegiance to a particular confessional tradition, then I am bound, in some sense, to play that tradition's language game. So this may mean that I agree to emply confessional terminology, even if that terminology does not arise directly from the Bible, in order to avoid causing confusion and disruption in Christ's church.
So if the Bible teaches that the elect are savingly and inseparably united with Jesus, but that reprobates may also experience something similar for a time, I'll use one term for one and another term for the other. Or, if Scripture teaches that I am justified solely on the basis of Christ's work which is imputed to me by faith alone, but that I will also stand before God on the last day to receive according to what I have done in the body, then I am not going to use the term "justification" to speak of the latter.
If there's a better example of "American individualistic Bible only-ism" than gleefully throwing off the shackles of the church for the sake of trying out the nomenclature I learned during my own private devotions, I've yet to hear it.
One of the most challenging aspects of dialoguing with our friends in the Federal Vision camp is evident at this very point. So much preliminary work has to be done defining terms like "faith," "imputation," and "justification" that often the dialogue never really gets off the ground, and when it does, there's lots of talking past one another.
And calm down, I'm not comparing Federal Visionists to Jehovah's Witnesses (are Jay-Dubs even allowed to have beards?)
It is at this very point that the crucial and rarely appreciated distinction between "Tradition 1" and "Tradition 0" comes into play. If I have vowed allegiance to a particular confessional tradition, then I am bound, in some sense, to play that tradition's language game. So this may mean that I agree to emply confessional terminology, even if that terminology does not arise directly from the Bible, in order to avoid causing confusion and disruption in Christ's church.
So if the Bible teaches that the elect are savingly and inseparably united with Jesus, but that reprobates may also experience something similar for a time, I'll use one term for one and another term for the other. Or, if Scripture teaches that I am justified solely on the basis of Christ's work which is imputed to me by faith alone, but that I will also stand before God on the last day to receive according to what I have done in the body, then I am not going to use the term "justification" to speak of the latter.
If there's a better example of "American individualistic Bible only-ism" than gleefully throwing off the shackles of the church for the sake of trying out the nomenclature I learned during my own private devotions, I've yet to hear it.
Subscribe to:
Comment Feed (RSS)
