The Complexities of Confessionalism

Say what you will about Peter Leithart, but when it comes to his theology, the man just plain ol' doesn't care about anything other than that it is biblical.

Is this a bad thing?

When the study committee which he and I petitioned the Northwest Presbytery of the PCA to form began its work, Leithart's only request was that, in addition to comparing his views to the Westminster Standards, we also take the time to engage his work from the vantage point of Scripture. It was obvious that this latter concern far outweighed the former in his mind.

The conclusions of the minority report that I authored were that Leithart's positions, though biblically defensible to a certain degree, were nonetheless clearly contrary to the system of doctrine found in our Confession and Catechisms. The problem, the minority argued, was that he failed (or was unwilling) to read the Bible through the lens of the doctrinal standards of the PCA. And Leithart's response, in a nutshell, was "Isn't being biblical enough?"

Hence the complex nature of Reformed confessionalism. On the one hand, we recognize that there is no "view from nowhere," and that we simply cannot read Scripture in a lens-less, objective, Cartesian way. All of us bring presuppositions to the interpretive table. On the other hand, though, we don't want to be accused of simply reducing the Bible to the confession's handmaiden, as if Scripture is merely a collection of prooftexts to buttress one's own systematic theology.

An example from Leithart's own views would be the fact that Paul says in Romans 6:7 that the baptized believer has been "justified from sin." Clearly, Leithart argues, the word "justify" is being used as a kind of synonym for "sanctify," and not to denote God's one-time declarative act of pardon and imputation of alien righteousness. Our understanding of the term "justification," therefore, ought to be broad enough to include this usage, as well as the OT's usage of tsadaq in contexts were the issue is deliverance from enemies, not forensic acquittal.

I admit, I can see Leithart's point and can understand his frustration at being told "No, you must not echo Paul's language since it contradicts our theology." But at the same time, is there not a place for being a team-player and being willing to employ terminology that tries to avoid confusing people unnecessarily?

The options, as I see them, are as follows: confessional denominations like the PCA can either (1) broaden our theological parameters to make room for someone who can make a case that his theology is biblically plausible, or (2) we can insist that our ministers at times must avoid speaking the Bible's language for fear of muddying the systematic waters.

And I must say, I'm not completely thrilled about either of those choices (but then, who ever said being confessional would be easy?).

The Road to Rome, Constantinople, and the Emergent Village

Every now and again you run across a passage in a book that is just chock-full of fodder for potential discussion and debate. I found just such a passage the other day in Scott Clark's Recovering the Reformed Confession. Under the heading "The Virtues of Being Confessional," he writes:

The evangelical and postevangelical discontent is the result of the two quests that have dominated American evangelical religion for more than two centuries. This explanation accounts for the relatively easy movement of evangelicals into what might seem to be foreign territory. With respect to the QIRE [quest for illegitimate religious experience], having grown up with flannel graphs of the Second Person of the Trinity, it is really only a short step to traditional icons. With respect to the QIRC [quest for illegitimate religious certainty], once one overcomes the predominating ignorance of and bigotry against Rome that permeate North American fundamentalism, once one discovers that Roman Catholics love Jesus and read the Bible, it is not a great step to trade the authoritarianism of fundamentalism for the magisterial authority of the Roman communion. In other words, though they occur in a different setting, Rome, Constantinople, and the Emergent Village each offer to fundamentalism and evangelicalism a more ancient and better-looking version of what already animates them.

As the yutes say, "Oh, snap!"

Discuss....

Remember, With Moxy, Your Own Orthodoxy....

I have touched on this topic before, but perhaps it merits a revisiting in light of recent comments. There are two kinds of "orthodoxy" in my view. The first (we'll call it Big-O Ortho-doxy) represents those things which must be believed in order for a person to be a Christian in any meaningful sense of that word. Most traditions look to the Apostle's and Nicene Creeds as examples of Big-O Orthodoxy.

.

Then there are various little-o orthodoxies that compete with one another for the other, umm, non-essential doctrines (I shuddered a little just now).

So while any claim to Orthodoxy must include a correct understanding of, say, the divinity of Christ and the hypostatic union of his two natures in one Person, where one stands on the issue of the metaphysics of the Eucharist or the timing of Christ's return may play a part in the orthodoxy of whichever tradition one may be a part of, but they do not affect Orthodoxy with a Big-O.

So for example, Calvary Chapel's orthodoxy demands a belief in the pretribulational rapture, while the PCA's insists on the doctrine of imputation, and Rome's orthodoxy includes the immaculate conception and assumption of the blessed virgin Mary. But all three of these traditions would affirm the tenets of the Nicene Creed (even if, as in our first example, they've never heard of it).

So when the question is asked, "Can your tradition guarantee orthodoxy?", we need to determine what the interlocutor means by "orthodoxy" before we can answer. If he means Big-O Orthodoxy, the answer is "Yes," because if a person in just about any Christian church denies the tenets of the Nicene Creed he will be disciplined, and if the entire church denies them, they will be relegated to the status of a false religion such as Mormonism or the Watchtower Bible and Tract Society.

But if the questioner is asking whether a tradition can guarantee little-o orthodoxy, well, the question is somewhat redundant. Can the PCA guarantee belief among its members in the doctrine of imputation? Can Calvary Chapel ensure that its pastors hold to Dispensational eschatology? Can Rome guarantee that those in her communion affirm transubstantiation? Well, with varying degrees of success, the answer is pretty much "Yes."

But when we identify Orthodoxy with orthodoxies of whatever stripe, the question "Can your tradition guarantee orthodoxy?" becomes meaningless. No, the PCA cannot guarantee belief in the immaculate conception any more than Rome can protect the sanctity of the seven-year tribulation or the "Moses Model" of pastoral ministry.

And for the record, all churches hold to this distinction, whether they admit it or not.

Talk Amongst Yourselves, I'll Give You a Topic: The "Great Awakening" - It Was Neither Great, Nor an Awakening. Discuss....

In his book Revival and Revivalism, Iain Murray contends that due to the Calvinistic flavor of the First Great Awakening and the Pelagian flavor of the Second Great Awakening, the former is to be considered a legitimate work of the Spirit while the latter was largely spurious and manmade. Scott Clark, on the other hand, argues in Recovering the Reformed Confession that “both awakenings were species of the same genus, the QIRE [or, the quest for illegitimate religious experience].” He continues:

… it is sometimes said and even more frequently assumed that confessional Reformed theology, piety, and practice need to be augmented with the piety and evangelical fervor of the eighteenth- and nineteenth-century revivals. In such a marriage, however, classical Reformed theology and piety are unequally yoked.

In fact, Clark’s contention is that it was not soteriological issues at all that caused Murray to bind together the good revivalist to the exclusion of the bad ones, but “a common heightened personal experience of the divine presence.”

Judged, however, by confessional Reformed theology, piety, and practice, it is more difficult to see [revivals] as models for our theology, piety, and practice. Rather, taken individually or as a whole, the revivals represent a subjectivism that is alien to the Reformed confession.

Let me be clear about the fact that I agree with Clark wholeheartedly (due in no small part to all the yelling at me he did while I was his student). Still, I can remember back to the days when I was an ardent Banner of Truth guy, and the objection I would have raised would go something like this: According to whose standard of “legitimacy” should one’s quest for religious experience be judged? In other words, Clark’s QIRE label can easily sound as if any quest for a level of religious experience that exceeds Clark’s is excessive and illegitimate.

Of course, Clark’s response will be that it is not his standard that he is commending, but that of our Reformed confessions and catechisms. But pro-revival Reformed theologians like Murray or the Old Princetonians subscribed to the same standards that we do, and their definition of revival as an extraordinary degree of blessing upon the ordinary means of grace would seem to comport just fine with the experimental language of the Westminster Standards (not to mention that of Paul).

So the question is, how do we avoid combating the subjectivity of revivalism with an equally subjective standard of our own?

God Said It, I Believe It, But What Settles It?

As we wrap up the Sola Scriptura installment of our ongoing discussion of Catholicism and Protestantism, I beg your indulgence (ahem) as I post something a bit longer than usual (my normal goal is for the entire text of each post to fit on your screen at once). That won’t happen with this one. Some of you have referred to my recent performance as devil’s advocate for Rome as being truly worthy of an Academy Award nomination (and you haven’t all meant it as a compliment either, but have half-convinced yourselves that I have taken up the rite of French-kissing my new statue of Joseph Ratzinger). I offer no apology, though. Who better to welcome the tough questions than the Calvinist, and what better forum to ask them than a blog? (Insert sarcastic-looking emoticon here.)

Before I weigh in directly I want to thank all of the Catholics who have braved these Protestant, two-kingdoms waters over the past couple weeks (especially Bryan Cross, Tim Troutman, Oso Famoso [a.k.a. Sean], Louisiana Catholic, Thos, and Peter Sean Bradley). I was impressed that, for the most part, this dialogue has been charitable and honest, producing more light than it did heat. As we turn our attention to Sola Fide on Monday, I trust the same peaceableness and humility will be demonstrated from both sides.

To cut to the chase, I have come to doubt whether “Sola Scriptura” is a helpful way to describe the Reformed position concerning the role that the Bible plays in the life of the Christian individual and the life of the church. My reasons are as follows: First, Reformed Christians believe that the Bible is the church’s book and must be interpreted in conjunction with, and not in isolation from, our forefathers in the faith as well as those who have authority over us presently. Consider these two passages from the Westminster Confession of Faith:

The authority of the holy Scripture, for which it ought to be believed and obeyed, dependeth not upon the testimony of any man or Church, but wholly upon God (who is truth itself), the Author thereof; and therefore it is to be received, because it is the Word of God (I.4).

It belongeth to synods and councils, ministerially, to determine controversies of faith… and authoritatively to determine the same: which decrees and determinations, if consonant to the Word of God, are to be received with reverence and submission, not only for their agreement with the Word, but also for the power whereby they are made, as being an ordinance of God, appointed thereunto in his Word (XXXI.3).

Now, while a Catholic may scoff at these statements for several reasons, an evangelical would not simply roll his eyes, he would wag his fundamentalist finger in our face and accuse us of denying the sole authority of the Bible. And you know what? He is right, we do deny the sole authority of Scripture, as do all heirs of the Reformation.

A second reason why the language of “Sola Scriptura,” when weighed in the balance of our Reformed confessions and catechisms, is found wanting is that we have always placed a higher premium on the believer’s hearing the preached Word than upon his own personal Bible reading. Again, the Westminster Standards:

Question: How is the Word made effectual to salvation?

Answer: The Spirit of God maketh the reading, but especially the preaching of the Word, an effectual means of enlightening, convincing, and humbling sinners; of driving them out of themselves, and drawing them unto Christ; of conforming them to his image, and subduing them to his will; of strengthening them against temptations and corruptions; of building them up in grace, and establishing their hearts in holiness and comfort through faith unto salvation (Westminster Larger Catechism Q/A 155).

Unto this catholic and visible Church, Christ hath given the ministry, oracles, and ordinances of God, for the gathering and perfecting of the saints, in this life, to the end of the world; and doth by his own presence and Spirit, according to his promise, make them effectual thereunto (XXV.3).

Notice that preaching is exalted above quiet times, and that the means of grace which perfect the saints in this life unto the end of the world are given to the church, not to the individual. Under the Heading “The Preaching of the Word of God is the Word of God,” the Second Helvetic Confession teaches:

Wherefore when this Word of God is now preached in the church by preachers lawfully called, we believe that the very Word of God is proclaimed, and received by the faithful; and that neither any other Word of God is to be invented nor is to be expected from heaven: and that now the Word itself which is preached is to be regarded, not the minister that preaches; for even if he be evil and a sinner, nevertheless the Word of God remains still true and good.

It would obviously be anachronistic to insist that believers during the ministry of Clement of Rome listened to his preaching with leather-bound, thumb-indexed versions of the New Geneva Study Bible in their laps. Unless the Lord tarries another thousand years, the majority of saints in heaven will have never owned a Bible, but learned the gospel from duly ordained ministers gifted to the church by the risen Christ (Ephesians 4:11-12).

The third and final reason why “Sola Scriptura” in an unhelpful term is rooted in the Reformation’s doctrine of the two kingdoms. The synod or the council, we are told in Westminster Confession XXXI.5, is not to opine on any matter that is not specifically ecclesiastical, nor may it “intermeddle” in civil affairs. The obvious reason for this is that the Bible is not intended—and is therefore not sufficient—to address issues such as how a bill should become a law or whether pitchers should be made to bat in the American League.

The Bible, therefore, is our primary authority on matter concerning religion, but it is not our only authority.

What is the nature, then, of these secondary sources of authority such as preachers and synods? Ecclesiastical councils, argues Calvin, should “have the majesty that is their due; yet in the meantime Scripture would stand out in the higher place, with everything subject to its standard.” He writes:

However it may be, we cannot otherwise distinguish between councils that are contradictory and discordant, which have been many, unless we weigh them all in the balance of all men and angels, that is, the Word of the Lord (Institutes 4.9.9).

Does this, as our Catholic friends insist, leave us every bit as adrift in the sea of individualism as the evangelicals are, having no more hope of safe harbor than they?

Well on one level it is true: though we decry it with no small measure of smugness, we must admit if we’re honest that the Reformed are less afraid of individualism than Catholics are (although we all look alike to the evangelical). But when we have a properly hierarchical understanding of divine authority, this becomes less irksome (or at least it should). Consider Paul’s twofold approach with the Galatians who were so quickly turning away from the gospel of grace: first, he spends a chapter and a half touting his credentials as an apostle whose authority is to be taken seriously. But he doesn’t stop writing once his credibility is established, he actually goes on and seeks to convince the Galatians that his gospel is the authentic, not the counterfeit, one.

Why would a duly ordained apostle with the power to open and shut heaven stoop to the level of trying to prove to a bunch of former pagans that his message is not a sham?

Well, if the sole question concerns the who, as Rome claims, then it would seem that Paul spilled his ink in vain. After all, he’s Paul for crying out loud, isn’t that enough of a reason to believe him? As I highlighted above, church authority is indeed “an ordinance of God,” but only insofar as it conforms to the norma normans non normata, which is Scripture. In other words, the who, if he is a duly ordained who, is to be heeded as the very spokesman of Christ himself. But the ultimate authority of the who is the what, meaning that even the ambassador is bound by his treaty, even the judge is a servant of the law, and even the herald of the divine gospel is, when all is said and done, but a minister of the Word. Hence the bold apostle’s solemn oath at the beginning of this epistle:

I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting him who called you in the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel—not that there is another one, but there are some who trouble you and want to distort the gospel of Christ. But even if we or an angel from heaven should preach to you a gospel contrary to the one we preached to you, let him be accursed. As we have said before, so now I say again: If anyone is preaching to you a gospel contrary to the one you received, let him be accursed (Galatians 1:6-9).

Paul’s willingness to subjugate himself to the true gospel, his potential anathematizing of the angels of heaven who preach a false one, and, perhaps most startlingly, his solemnly charging his own hearers with the responsibility to know the difference, all demonstrate that no authority in heaven or on earth has the power to tinker with, modify, take away from, or add to the glorious gospel of the blessed God.

In conclusion, I have been tremendously challenged by the Catholic position and have actually grown to appreciate it and look upon it with a measure of wonder. Part of me wishes it were true that the church of the apostles had continued on in an unbroken succession of leadership and doctrinal fidelity from that day to this. But at the end of the day I, along with millions and millions of other Christians over the past five centuries, believe that the what, somewhere along the way, got swallowed by the who. In a word, the message of salvation by grace alone through faith alone because of Christ alone was compromised, only to be recovered in the sixteenth century by men who recognized, sometimes at the cost of their own lives, that the gospel trumps popes, the gospel trumps councils, and that the true church of Christ only exists where the grace of God is preached without mixture or dilution.

Setting that issue aside (at least until next week), I believe that the passion for unity I have seen on the part of the Catholics I have met is both commendable and humbling. For my own part, I wish that every Reformed and Presbyterian denomination, both here and abroad, would come together under the banner of a common confession of faith to which all ministers and members would strictly subscribe, even if a fresh one needs to be drafted for the occasion. And however miserably we may fall short of it, I do wish we Protestants, together with all believers, would grow ever closer to fulfilling the wish of our Savior, expressed on the eve of his betrayal:

“… that they may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me” (John 17:21).

The Importance and Authority of the Creed

Keith Mathison argues that the doctrine of Sola Scriptura, as understood by the Reformed tradition, bears little re-semblance to the "Solo Scriptura" of evangelicalism. Far from advocating "no creed but the Bible," believers in Reformation churches insist that the Bible is the church's book, and must be interpreted by the church within the hermeneutical bounds of the regula fidei, the apostolic rule of faith that existed before the canon of Scripture was completed.

What place, then, is there for creeds and confessions?

Aside from their inevitability (all Christians believe something, whether written down or simply made up and stored in their "heart of hearts"), creeds are necessary to give light and expression to the teachings of Scripture. The doctrine of the Trinity, for example, gains creedal status in the Apostles' and Nicene creeds. "Why not just believe the doctrine because it is biblical?" we are often asked, "Why the need to make it creedal?" The answer is that without the hard work of those who wrote these creeds it is unlikely that every individual believer would arrive at the difficult yet biblical doctrine that God exists in three divine Persons, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

"But," the Catholic will object, "you just gave away the farm! By citing Nicaea you have effectively betrayed Sola Scriptura." To this the Reformed believer will respond by pointing out that the authority that our creeds and confessions carry is real, albeit secondary, penultimate, and derivative. In other words, the ultimate reason we hold to this or that creed is because it comports with the church's reading of Scripture as it is interpreted within the apostolic regula fidei, and not simply because it is a creed written by a lawfully-called church council.

This gives rise to a question for all my new Catholic friends: Why do you believe the conclusions of the Council of Trent? "Well," you might say, "because the conclusions reached at Trent were a conciliar statement of the one true Church." But even if I grant this for the sake of argument, I still want to know why you as an individual Catholic believe its decrees. Did you just get the memo and believe whatever it said before you read it, or did you seek to become personally convinced by history and Scripture that Trent was correct? Is this way of thinking "too Protestant"?

If a Catholic holds Trent's conclusions to be important because they represent the teaching of their church, but if a further layer of importance is added when he becomes convinced of those conclusions himself, then what I want to know is: Are you really that different from us, methodologically speaking?

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:

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?

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?

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?

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....

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.

The Federal Vision and the Covenant of Life

One of the most problematic sections in the Federal Visionists' Statement, at least from this Reformed confessionalist's perspective, concerns "The Covenant of Life," which reads in part:

"We deny that continuance in this covenant in the Garden was in any way a payment for work rendered. Adam could forfeit or demerit the gift of glorification by disobedience, but the gift or continued possession of that gift was not offered by God to Adam conditioned upon Adam’s moral exertions or achievements."

What frustrates many Reformed people about the Federal Vision is its assumption that the nomenclature of "covenant of life" is somehow an alternative to the "covenant of works" (these are taken from the Larger Catechism and Confession respectively). Though it has traditionally been understood that the former denotes the reward while the latter highlights the means to it, it is now fashionable to pit the covenant of life and the covenant of works against one another, as if the divines at Westminster had two distinct types of covenants in mind between which candidates for ordination could conveniently choose.

Just read the quotation above if you think I'm being unfair. The covenant of life, we are told, did not hold out to Adam a gift "in any way [as] a payment for work rendered" or "conditioned upon [his] moral exertions." Confessional Reformed believers, to the contrary, insist that the original covenant with Adam offered a reward (glorified life) "upon condition of perfect, personal, and perpetual obedience."

This is far from "striving about words to no profit." Once we forfeit the idea that Adam would have earned his reward by his law-keeping, we lose not only the doctrine of the imputation of the second Adam's obedience and satisfaction, but also the assurance of knowing that the Father's acceptance of us is not only the result of "rich grace" toward us, but of "exact justice" toward his Son (WCF xi.3).

Thus the Federal Vision, in its (laudable) attempt to exalt the primacy of divine grace, ends up subverting that grace, replacing it with a monocovenantal system which promises us that, once we've rendered enough congruent merit euphemized as "covenant faithfulness," the Father will mingle with it his grace to make it acceptable.

Just like he did for Jesus.

Declaration #9: Justification and Works

The final declaration of the PCA's Federal Vision Report states:

"The view that justification is in any way based on our works, or that the so-called 'final verdict of justification' is based on anything other than the perfect obedience and satisfaction of Christ received through faith alone, is contrary to the Westminster Standards."

Proponents of the Federal Vision argue that, while initial justification is based solely upon faith (though often redefined, unconfessionally, as faithfulness), the final verdict of justification, issued on the last day, will be based upon works. Building upon the metaphor of the white robe, Rich Lusk writes:

"[I]nitial reception of the white garment is by faith alone; ongoing possession of the garment is maintained by faithful obedience.... Their 'whiteness' before the Father's throne is due solely to his death and resurrection. In this sense, the robes stand for initial justification. But this forensic justification cannot be separated from the good works that make the saints worthy of their new apparel. In other words, the poetic imagery points in the same direction as the theological prose of Paul (Rom. 2:13) and James (2:14ff): those who will be vindicated in the end are those who have been faithfully obedient" ("Future Justification to the Doers of the Law," emphasis added).

The Westminster Standards, quite to the contrary, teach that we are "justified... not for anything wrought in, or done by, [us]" (WCF XI.1). Not even "faith itself, the act of believing, or any other evangelical obedience" can be said to be the ground of our justification, but rather "the imputation of the obedience and satisfaction of Christ" (WCF XI.1). Though there will be a final judgment, its "end" is "the manifestation of the glory of [God's] mercy, in the eternal salvation of the elect; and of His justice, in the damnation of the reprobate" (WCF XXXIII.2). On the last day, the righteous will be "openly acknowledged and acquitted," and will then participate in the judgment of the wicked (WLC 90).

Confessionally speaking, "justification" refers to God's verdict concerning his people, expressed in the present, grounded upon Jesus' work imputed to them by faith alone. Though the elect will be judged "according to their works" on the last day, this judgment is not intended to determine whether or not they will be saved, but to vindicate them before the reprobate, "openly acknowledging and acquitting" them. Reformed theology has always distinguished between justification and salvation, with good works being necessary for the latter, but never for the former.

Declaration #7: Union and Salvation

"The view," declares the PCA's Report on the Federal Vision, "that one can be 'united to Christ' and not receive all the benefits of Christ's mediation, including perseverance, in that effectual union is contrary to the Westminster Standards."

Advocates of the Federal Vision argue that the nomenclature of "union with Christ" applies to all who have been baptized with water, and that this "covenantal union" can be lost due to one's failing to abide in the Vine (cf. John 15:6).

The Westminster Standards, on the other hand, teach that union with Christ is a "special benefit" enjoyed by the "members of the invisible church." Further, 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."

The Standards do not speak of baptism effecting "union with Christ," whether covenantal or saving, but speak instead of this sacrament being a sign and seal of our "ingrafting into Christ" (WCF 28:1; WLC 165; WSC 94), a blessing not necessarily received at the moment of the sacrament's administration (WCF 28:6).

Interestingly, the New Testament does not speak with univocity concerning our union with Christ, but employs a handful of phrases to communicate the doctrine ("in Christ," "in Me," "united with him," &c). This being the case, it makes perfect sense to follow our tradition in employing one phrase to indicate the elect's saving relation to Jesus ("union") and another to speak of the baptized covenant member's association with the visible assembly of saints ("solemn admission," WCF 28:1).

The Federal Vision's insistence upon using the language of "union" to refer to both betrays either an ignorance of, or a stubborn refusal to employ, the tools of systematic theology. Their boast of "using the Bible's terms," therefore, comes at the cost of confusing the saints and robbing them of their assurance.

Declaration #6: The Benefits of Baptism

The sixth declaration of the PCA's Federal Vision Report reads:

"The view that water baptism effects a 'covenantal union' with Christ through which each baptized person receives the saving benefits of Christ's mediation, including regeneration, justification, and sanctification, thus creating a parallel soteriological system to the decretal system of the Westminster Standards, is contrary to the Westminster Standards."

The logic of the Federal Vision runs thus: (1) Baptism places a person in covenant with God; (2) To be in covenant with God entails receiving all the saving blessings of Christ; (3) Therefore all who are baptized partake of all of Christ's saving benefits, which benefits may be forfeited for lack of covenant faithfulness (see Steve Wilkins' essay in The Auburn Avenue Theology, especially pp. 261-63).

When pressed for explanation, Federal Visionists often backpedal: "I do indeed believe that baptism unites the baptized in covenant with Christ.... However, baptism is never efficacious apart from the exercise of saving faith on the part of the recipient" (Wilkins' Response to the PCA's report).

The FV's rationale for attributing saving blessings to those in covenantal union with Christ is that the apostles often refer to their readers as "saints" without qualification, predicating upon them election, justification, and sanctification (cf. I Cor. 6:11).

I must admit, though I have some exegetical difficulties with the FV's approach here, I sympathize with their overall concern. As FV opponent R. Fowler White concedes in his essay:

"On the premise that the faith of their audiences was covenantally credible, the [New Testament] writers ascribed to them all sorts of blessedness.... On the premise that the faith of their audiences was undifferentiated, the writers exhorted their audiences to perseverance (and were covenantally bound to do so)..." (Ibid., 213).

Therefore I hold, in common with the Federal Visionists, a high regard for baptism and some concerns about the perceived low regard for the sacraments in certain Presbyterian circles. I just wish they would qualify their statements about baptism the way the Reformed confessions do.

Distinguishing between the visible- and invisible church would be a good start....

Declaration #5: Union and Imputation

"The view," declares the PCA's Federal Vision Report, "that 'union with Christ' renders imputation redundant because it subsumes all of Christ's benefits (including justification) under this doctrinal heading is contrary to the Westminster Standards."

Some clarification is needed here (as was helpfully pointed out to me by one of my readers): Federal Vision advocate Rich Lusk has clarified his position with respect to union with Christ and the imputation of his righteousness. It is not imputation as such that Lusk argues is made redundant by our union with Christ, but imputation as defined by a "transfer of righteousness" from Jesus' account to ours. Imputation, he argues, is God's "reckoning" (logizomai) of us as righteous based upon the verdict pronounced upon his Son at his resurrection on the third day.

So once again, to the Standards....

Westminster Larger Catechism 65-66 states that union with Christ is a "special benefit" that "the members of the invisible church enjoy," and that this union "really and inseparably" joins the elect believer to his Husband and Head. Furthermore, WLC 69 teaches that our union with Christ is "manifested" by our "partaking of the virtue of his mediation, in [our] justification, adoption, [and] sanctification." And once again, this union is said to be a benefit given to "the members of the invisible church."

Though union is certainly understood by the Reformed tradition to be the rubric under which the various blessings of the covenant of grace come to us, there is no warrant for using union as an excuse to collapse these blessings together, or to allow any one (like sanctification) to swallow another (like justification).

So Lusk's clarification notwithstanding, he and the Federal Vision still fall short of anything resembling an historic, confessional, Reformed position. His concession that Jesus' verdict is ours by virtue of our union with him fails to ultimately comfort, especially when we realize that this union is only retained through our covenant faithfulness, and that the verdict pronounced in the "already" may be changed by the time we reach the "not yet."

Declaration #4: Merit

The fourth declaration of the PCA's Federal Vision Report states:

"The view that strikes the language of 'merit' from our theological vocabulary so that the claim is made that Christ’s merits are not imputed to his people is contrary to the Westminster Standards."

The argument of the proponents of the Federal Vision is that man, by virtue of his creatureliness, cannot merit anything from his Creator or bring the Almighty into his debt. This has ramifications not only for the covenant of works (since God only deals with his creatures graciously), but also for the view that Christ's obedience and satisfaction earned our eternal inheritance. The Father, they argue, graciously bestowed the reward upon his Son.

To the Standards, shall we?

The "everlasting inheritance" that our Lord has gained for us is something that he "purchased" (WCF VIII.5), the purchase price being his "perfect obedience and sacrifice" (WCF VIII.5). The payment of this price "fully satisfied the justice of the Father" (WCF VIII.5). Moreover, the saints' perseverance in the faith is attributed to "the efficacy of the merit and intercession of Christ," his intercession being grounded in "the merit of his obedience and sacrifice on earth" (WCF XVII.2; WLC 55). Finally, worthy participation in the Lord’s Supper includes our "trusting in [Christ's] merits" (WLC 174).

In his devastating critique of the covenant theology of the Federal Vision, Michael Horton cites Calvin:

"By his obedience, Christ truly acquired and merited grace for us with the Father.... I take it to be a commonplace that if Christ made satisfaction for our sins, if he paid the penalty owed by us, if he appeased God by his obedience... then he acquired salvation for us by his righteousness, which is tantamount to deserving it.... Hence it is absurd to set Christ's merit against God's mercy" (Covenant, Justification, and Pastoral Ministry, 206-07; Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, 2.17.3, 1).

Though there is no law, external to God, by which man can bring the Almighty into his debt, Adam would have had a claim upon the promised blessings of the covenant of works had he obeyed the stipulated terms of that covenant. Moreover, our Lord Jesus Christ, as second Adam, is able to claim those blessings (and more) on behalf of his people, grounding his claim on the Father’s promise to impute the benefits of his obedience and sacrifice to his elect. Thus, there is more to Jesus' work than "an inherent worth" (as the Federal Visionists call it); it is the means by which he earned for sinners what they could never merit on their own.

Declaration #3: Imputation

The PCA Federal Vision Report's third declaration states:

"The view that Christ does not stand as a representative head whose perfect obedience and satisfaction is imputed to individuals who believe in him is contrary to the Westminster Standards."

Representative of the view the report condemns is Rich Lusk's, who insists that justification, biblically understood,

"... requires no transfer or imputation of anything. It does not force us to reify 'righteousness' into something that can be shuffled around in heavenly accounting books.... My in-Christ-ness makes imputation redundant" ("A Response to 'The Biblical Plan of Salvation'" in The Auburn Avenue Theology, Pros and Cons, 142).

I'll deal with the view, so characteristic of nineteenth-century liberalism, that assumes a disharmony between the filial and the forensic in a later post. For now, though, I will point out the problems, biblically and confessionally, with Lusk's view of imputation.

"Justification," according to Paul, comes to "sinners" as a "free gift of righteousness" through the "one act of righteousness" and "one man's obedience" that are "imputed by faith apart from works" (Rom. 5:16, 12, 17, 19; 4:6). Righteousness, then, is something that one may "have" in one's account (Phil. 3:9 [despite Lusk's distaste for economic metaphors]).

Confessionally speaking, Jesus "perfect obedience and sacrifice" have "fully satisfied the justice" of his Father (WCF VIII.5). We are justified by our being "accounted" as righteous, through God's "imputing the obedience and satisfaction of Christ" to us (WCF XI.1). Christ's "obedience and death" comprise his "proper, real, and full satisfaction to the Father’s justice" (WCF XI.3). Our Mediator's work, therefore, resulted in "exact justice" for him, and "rich grace" for those whom he represented (WCF XI.3).

Though no one is confessionally bound to call it "active" and "passive" obedience, we are bound to uphold Jesus' "obedience" and "satisfaction" as the imputed ground of our justification.

"Tomato" / "To-mah-to" if you ask me....

Declaration #2: Election

The second declaration of the PCA's Federal Vision Report states:

"The view that an individual is 'elect' by virtue of his membership in the visible church; and that this 'election' includes justification, adoption and sanctification; but that this individual could lose his 'election' if he forsakes the visible church, is contrary to the Westminster Standards."

The view the committee has in mind is represented by PCA pastor Steve Wilkins who, after arguing that all who have been baptized are elect and in covenant with God, writes:

"The elect are those who are faithful in Christ Jesus. If they later reject the Savior, they are no longer elect - they are cut off from the Elect One and thus, lose their elect standing.... All in covenant are given all that is true of Christ. If they persevere in faith to the end, they enjoy these mercies eternally. If they fall away in unbelief, they lose these blessings and receive a greater condemnation than Sodom and Gomorrah" ("Covenant, Baptism, and Salvation" in The Auburn Avenue Theology: Pros and Cons, 261, 263).

To his credit, Wilkins saves us hassle of citing the Westminster Standards for the purpose of comparative analysis by admitting that Federal Visionists, following Scripture, "seem to use the terms 'covenant,' elect,' and 'regeneration' in a different way than the Westminster Confession uses them" (Ibid., 268).

By obliterating the traditional Reformed and confessional distinction between the visible and invisible church, and by allowing covenant to swallow election whole, the Federal Vision fails to provide the (much-needed) antidote to revivalism that they originally sought to give us.

Instead, we are left with an arrangement, begun by baptism and completed by Spirit-wrought covenant faithfulness, according to which we can gain such saving benefits as election, regeneration, and vital union with Christ, only to potentially lose them on the last day.

In short, we are left with an arrangement that, though not completely Pelagian, isn't truly Pauline either.

Declaration #1: Monocovenantalism

I realize I'm interrupting my series on VanDrunen's project (to which I hope to return), but I think it would be timely to consider the nine "declarations" of the PCA's Federal Vision Report received a couple weeks ago at the denomination's General Assembly. The first declaration states:

"The view that rejects the bi-covenantal structure of Scripture as represented in the Westminster Standards (i.e., views which do not merely take issue with the terminology, but the essence of the first/second covenant framework) is contrary to those Standards."

As you may know, it is fashionable in various circles (i.e., New Perspective, Norman Shepherd, Federal Vision) to insist that God's dealings with his creatures have always been gracious. After all, no creature—fallen or not—can ever hope to earn anything from God by means of merit, right?

As laudable (and Reformed) as this emphasis upon divine grace may appear at first blush, I would argue that it both flatly contradicts the teaching of the Westminster Standards and serves, ironically perhaps, to undermine the grace it seeks to exalt.

To demonstrate the first charge, one may appeal to the fact that the Confession clearly states that God made "a first covenant" and "a second covenant" with man, the former being called "a covenant of works," the latter "a covenant of grace." Moreover, the covenant of works promises life upon the condition of "personal and perfect obedience," while the latter offers life and salvation to all who exercise faith in Christ (which faith is itself a gift). This does not amount to one covenant with a different administration pre- and post-fall, but two covenants administered according to different principles altogether (works and grace).

As to the charge that the monocovenantalism of the Federal Vision undermines divine grace, I would argue that if a sinner's salvation is not earned by "obedience" to God's law and "satisfaction" of God's justice (accomplished by Christ), but is simply given by grace, then either justification becomes a legal fiction (since God's standards have not really been met), or the onus of meeting those standards falls back on the believer, euphemistically disguised as "covenant faithfulness."

Thoughts?