Threaten Ye, Threaten Ye My People

In his contribution to The Auburn Avenue Theology: Pros and Cons, PCA pastor Steve Wilkins, writing in defense of the Federal Vision, says of Paul's words in Romans 8:28-34:

"Paul is not stating promises [of divine foreknowledge, predestination, calling, justification, and glorification] that are true only for some unknown group called the 'elect.' ... Rather, he is applying these promises to all members of the Church who have been baptized and united to Christ in his death, burial, and resurrection (Romans 6). Yet, in spite of these clear affirmations of their elect status, Paul does not hesitate to warn them against the possibility of apostasy."

Later in the same essay, Wilkins unpacks the last stament in this way:

"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. But their falling away doesn't negate the reality of their standing prior to their apostasy. They were really and truly the elect of God because of their relationship with Christ" (emphasis mine).

My reason for highlighting these passages is to demonstrate what happens when we simply see the Mosaic Covenant as "the gospel before Christ." The precarious status of national Israel as God's elect people, which was contingent upon their keeping of the law, is made to be the normative paradigm for the New Covenant people of God (complete with the threat of disinheritance and forfetiture of adoption).

And if one responds by saying that, since all covenants are "gracious," we should see Moses as pre-Christian gospel, I would ask whether what our Federal Vision brothers are offering is really "grace" at all. When, under the guise of trying to alleviate the doubts of God's people, I am told that if I don't display sufficient covenant faithfulness I will lose the blessings of election and union with Christ, well, the "comfort" of the message is lost on me.

The Danger of Monocovenantalism

The question I raised at the end of my last post concerned how the monocovenantalism of the Federal Vision can affect how we think about the danger of, and remedy for, apostasy. (By "monocovenantalism" I mean the idea that man, from creation onward, has been in one continuous, gracious covenant with God.)

As an example of warning against apostasy, the epistle to the Hebrews cites the unfaithfulness of Old Testament Israel as a challenge to us today. In 3:12 - 4:11 we are exhorted not to fail to enter God's rest through sinful unbelief like the wilderness wanderers did, for though "the good news came to them, the message they heard did not benefit them" because of their unbelief (4:2).

What is crucial to understand is that the "rest" to which Israel aspired in Old Testament times was a type of the true, heavenly rest that Adam sought. And further, Israel's gaining or losing of that Sabbath rest, like Adam's, was contingent upon their obedience to God's law (Deut. 28:1-6).

Or to make my point more clear: Both the Adamic and Mosaic covenants were administered according to the legal principle, "Do this and live."

The antitype of Adam and Israel, of course, is Jesus Christ, the second Adam and faithful Israelite (Rom. 5:12ff; John 15:1ff). As the fulfillment of all the types and shadows of Old Testament times, he succeeded where his predesessors failed and faithfully earned the right to enter into his Father's Sabbath rest as our Champion and Forerunner.

While the danger of apostasy is still present and very real, the difference between our situation and that of Israel's is seen precisely at this point. Their "covenant faithfulness" was the basis for their enjoyment of Canaan, while our enjoyment of our heavenly homeland is the covenant faithfulness of Christ. Even the saving faith that we must exercise is provided for us as part of the "grace-by-faith" salvation that comes to us by virtue of the Abrahamic promise (Eph. 2:8-9).

The mistake of our Federal Vision brothers, it seems to me, is that they collapse two things that Paul keeps distinct, namely Israel's enjoyment of the earthly blessings of the Mosaic covenant, which was precarious and uncertain, and our enjoyment of the "spiritual blessings in the heavenly places" that Christ procured for us, which couldn't be more secure.

Law, Gospel, and Apostasy

In his essay entitled "Why the Law-Gospel Paradigm is Flawed" Rich Lusk writes:

"... [T]he Mosaic law was simply the gospel in pre-Christian form. Or, to put it another way, the New Covenant is just the Old Covenant in mature, glorified form. The Torah is an earlier chapter in the same glorious Christ-centered story of grace and blessing."

And in his essay "The Tenses of Justification" he argues:

"... [W]orks do not justify in their own right since they can never withstand the scrutiny of God’s inspection. But we will not be justified without them either. They are not merely evidential (e.g., proof of our faith), but even causal or instrumental ("means") in our final salvation. Faith is the sole instrument of initial justification, but faith comes to be perfected by good works" (emphasis mine).

If "the Mosaic law is just the gospel in pre-Christian form" as our brother argues, then that would seem to have some pretty important ramifications for New Covenant living, not the least of which is the seemingly unconfessional idea that works play a "causal" role in our final justification.

As we begin to look at the (very real) danger of apostasy, my initial question is:

How may the notion that New Covenant saints are in essentially the same covenantal condition as the saints of Old Covenant times—particularly with respect to our need to keep the law to be justified—affect how we think about the possibility of, and remedy for, apostasy?

We Can Work It Out

The more I consider the issues we have been discussing -- particularly the relationship of works to faith and law to gospel -- the more I realize the importance of properly distinguishing between the Mosaic and Abrahamic covenants.

Although many proponents of the Federal Vision see the same dynamic existing across the covenantal spectrum (a strange mixture of grace on the one hand and threat of curse on the other), the truth is that the works principle ("Do this and live") that characterized the Adamic and Mosaic covenants (Rom. 10:5; Gal. 3:12; cf. Lev. 18:5) is in direct opposition to the grace principle that is found in the Abrahamic covenant. As Paul writes:

"Now to the one who works, his wages are not counted as a gift but as his due. And to the one who does not work but trusts him who justifies the ungodly, his faith is counted as righteousness.... For the promise to Abraham and his offspring that he would be heir of the world did not come through the law but through the righteousness of faith. For if it is the adherents of the law who are to be the heirs, faith is null and the promise is void." Rom. 4:4-5, 13-14

Abraham's good works that he clearly displayed by "not staggering at God's promise through unbelief" contributed in no way whatsoever to his securing of the promised blessing, for if they did, "he would have something of which to boast" (vv. 20, 1-2). If Paul is at all coherent here, he is saying that the law, which did promise blessing for obedience, could not have been the means of the promise's fulfillment without completely overthrowing the graciousness of the arrangement (v. 16).

There is no question, of course, that all God's covenantal arrangements include an important place for works. But the specific role that works play in the Abrahamic and Mosaic covenants could not be more different. In the latter, they are the means to secure the (typological) blessing. In the former, they are the necessary result of Christ having secured the (eternal) blessing for us.

So here's my question: Which of these two covenantal arrangements most resembles the dynamic of life under the New Covenant?

Grace Everywhere = Grace Nowhere

I can certainly appreciate the irony displayed by a Calvinist (who is supposed to be all about grace) making such a fuss about the covenant of works. But what many don't understand is that, divine grace notwithstanding, the only way any person can be saved is by works.

You see, if it is wrong to insist that pre-fallen Adam's obedience would have entitled him to eternal life, then the same must be true of the second Adam, Jesus Christ. But if our Lord's obedience to his Father did not earn eternal life for his people, then this means that God's Law has yet to be satisfied, and at the end of the day, It is not "finished" after all.

Kline writes:

"The irony of all this is that a position that asserts a continuum of 'grace' everywhere ends up with no genuine gospel grace anywhere. An approach that starts out by claiming that a works principle operates nowhere ends up with a kind of works principle everywhere. What this amounts to is a retreat from the Reformation and a return to Rome."

The reason for so adamant a stance is due to the fact that if the works principle ("Do this and live") that summed up both the Edenic and Sinaitic covenants is still hanging over the heads of God's New Covenant people, then the "works" that confessional Reformed theology has insisted were meritoriously accomplished by our Mediator are now our resonsibility to perform.

So Kline is right: We are saved by works after all. But whose?

From Lack of Plight to Solution?

I have a question that I'm hoping a lurking Federal Vision proponent can clear up for me:

If neither the Adamic nor Mosaic arrangements were legal covenants of works, then to which covenant is the covenant of grace the antithesis?

Our Reformed dogmaticians have been divided about whether the Old (Mosaic) Covenant was essentially gracious or legal, with divines at the Westminster Assembly holding to both positions. But even those who insisted that the Mosaic covenant was simply an administration of the covenant of grace clearly saw the Adamic covenant as being a covenant of works.

Thus, irrespective of whether the Law/Gospel antithesis was couched in Moses/Christ or Adam/Christ language, there was a Law/Gospel antithesis.

But if both the Edenic and Sinaitic dispensations were essentially gracious (because the creatureliness of [fallen and unfallen] man precludes his earning anything from his Maker), then where's the law, where's the bad news, where's the question to which Jesus is the answer, the problem to which he is the solution?

With all our talk of "relevance" in the Church today, one would think that if our cardinal message fails to identify a crisis to solve, then perhaps we're more irrelevant than we ever dared imagine.

Skip the Apple Tree, Go Straight to Heaven!

Another common objection to the idea that unfallen Adam's obedience to God would have earned him eternal life is from the so-called "disproportionality" between his obedience and the stipulated reward. How could gaining heaven by not eating an apple be a matter of simple justice? Surely grace must be involved, right?

There are a few problems with this objection....

First, it posits a standard of "justice" outside of God to which he is held accountable. Think about it: If he promises to bestow x upon man if he does y, who are we to insist that x is a disproportionate reward to the value of y's service? Shouldn't the fact that it is God who came up with the arrangement be sufficient to demonstrate that the ratio of obedience to reward is just right?

Secondly, if the promise of eternal life for conformity to God's commands is too good a blessing for the obedience rendered, then it must follow that the threat eternal death that Adam actually did earn was too harsh a curse for the disobedience rendered. If the prize is too "gracious" then the punishment must be too strict. And either way, God fails to live up to the standard of fairness that we subject him to.

And finally, if the first Adam's reward of eternal life for himself and his seed would have been too glorious a prize for his mere creaturely obedience to gain, then wouldn't it also follow that the second Adam's earning of the same blessing is also too magnanimous a reward for his obedience? Or conversely, if Jesus' obedience to his Father was indeed meritorious, then doesn't it seem like the "reward" he earned was something of a letdown?

In the first instance, the obedience of both Adams is insufficient to earn the heavenly crown. In the second case, the sufficiency of Jesus' work earned him a miserly inheritance that barely seems worth the hassle of being crucified for.

What Can You Give to the God Who Has Everything?

One of the objections mentioned in my previous post to the concept of a pre-fall "covenant of works" is from the impossibility of enriching God or adding to his own glory. Did not Jesus himself teach us to say, after we have done all our duty, that we are still "unprofitable servants" who deserve no praise or pats on the back (Luke 17:10)?

While it is true that we can never out-do ourselves or go beyond our covenant obligations (God doesn't need any favors), it does not follow from this that Adam's works could not have been meritorious or praiseworthy. After all, it is precisely by obeying God's commands that he is said to be pleased:

"By this my Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit" (John 15:8).

If "the chief end of man is to glorify God," and if one of the ways we accomplish this is by doing what he says, then it would seem to follow that the objection that Adam could never have added to God's eternal blessedness is beside the point. If God says that our obedience makes him happy, then it would be a prudent course of action to just obey him rather than to ponder how an already-full glass of water can have more added to it.

Kline summarizes this well:

"Just as disobedience earns a display of God's negative justice in the form of his curse, so obedience earns a manifestation of God's positive justice in the form of his blessing. This is simple justice."

As I'll demonstrate in my next post, it's the opponents rather than proponents of traditional covenant theology that are often guilty of a subtle rationalism that gets in the way of the biblical text.

How's that for irony...?

Men at Work

God's demonstration of his own "righteousness" in the gospel, by which his justification of sinners is itself justified, presupposes a traditional doctrine that has fallen on hard times of late: the Foedus Operum, or, the "Covenant of Works."

Here's how the objection to this doctrine goes (which proponents of the Federal Vision never tire of voicing):

To speak of Adam's loving relationship with his Creator, or Jesus' loving relationship with his Father, as a "Pelagian brownie-point system of merit" is to reduce these familial, gracious, dynamic relationships to sterile, clinical, forensic levels. After all, both the first and second Adams were already enjoying God's favor from the very beginning, so to assume that they had to "earn" or "merit" what they were obviously already enjoying is clearly mistaken.

Plus, Adam's creaturehood made "earning" even the smallest blessing from his Creator impossible (even before the fall); since man can never bring the Almighty into his debt, all that we have is necessarily a gift of grace.

And furthermore, there is such a "disproportionality" between the requirement ("If you don't eat an apple...") and the reward ("... you'll earn eternal life!") that to speak of "merit" in this connection is silly. Doesn't Jesus teach us to say, after we've done our duties, that we are still "unprofitable servants" (Luke 17:10)?

Are these arguments strong? Weak? Why?

A Divine Theodicy

Having proven himself incapable of attaining righteousness in the ordinary way (by obeying the law), fallen man must now receive that same righteousness as a "free gift" (Rom. 5:15-17). While the "doer of the law" in Romans 2:13 is recognized as righteous by virtue of his own righteous behavior, the "sinner" of Romans 5:8 is reckoned as righteous in spite of his bad behavior. As Luther famously put it: Simul iustus et pecator.

But this reckoning of sinners as righteous – which Paul calls "justification" – causes a problem for God. How can he just turn a blind eye to sin and transgression and retain his own righteousness?

To answer such a question requires a theodicy, which is a word that combines the Greek terms for "God" and "to justify." A theodicy, then, is a defense of God's behavior (as ridiculously presumptuous as this is).

Now most theodicies are put forth in order to solve a different problem, namely, how God can allow horrible things to happen to people as wonderful as we (this, however, doesn't appear to weigh too heavily on God's conscience). But the one place in the Bible where God does seem concerned about defending his behavior is in relation to his allowing wonderful things to happen to people as horrible as we.

Enter Romans 3:21-26.

In this passage, God's own "righteousness" is demonstrated by his putting forth his Son as a propitiation to quench his own wrath. Instead of merely overlooking wrongdoing, God postponed his just sentence until it could be directed at the sinless Savior instead of being poured out upon those whom he represents.

As in Romans 1:17, God's "righteousness" here is that salvific activity by which his commitment to uphold the right is vindicated at the same time as sinners who believe the gospel become righteous. Thus in his justification of sinners he himself in justified, and in his vindication of transgressors he himself is vindicated.

And as far as justifying himself for the rest of his behavior, God just doesn't seem interested....

Recognition or Reckoning?

We have seen that pre-Damascus Saul’s boast of blamelessness as to the righteousness that comes from the Mosaic law was indeed a valid claim. The problem, however, was that the earthly blessings promised for obedience to the law were "refuse" compared to the eternal joy of gaining Christ and attaining the resurrection from the dead (Phil. 3:4b-11).

Because of human sin and the subsequent inability to secure the eternal, heavenly blessings by the ordinary means appointed at creation (obeying God’s commands), righteousness must be attained in an extraordinary way: through faith in Christ.

(And just so we're clear: The phenomenon of justification by faith is the divine response to the crisis brought on by universal sin (Rom. 1:18ff), and not, as the New Perspective claims, simply the solution to the exclusivity of Torah's boundary markers such as circumcision, sabbaths, and dietary laws.)

A comparison of Romans 2:13 and 5:8-9 demonstrates the necessity of another type of righteousness beyond the ordinary. In the former verse, one is justified because he is just—he is a "doer of the law." In the latter, however, the one who is justified is "ungodly" (v. 6) and a "sinner" (v. 8). This is an example of what Westerholm calls "extraordinary righteousness," and what Paul calls a "free gift of righteousness" and "justification by faith" (Rom. 5:17; 3:28).

Please don't miss this point: When it is ungodly sinners who are justified, it cannot be on the basis of their righteous conduct or "doing of the law" that this sentence is passed. Rather, they must be reckoned as righteous, receiving their justification "freely by grace" (Rom. 3:24), "without works" (Rom. 4:2, 5, 6), and as a "gift of righteousness" (Rom. 5:17), none of which can be said of those who are recognized as righteous because they are "doers of the law."

The contrast between ordinary righteousness and extraordinary righteousness, then, amounts to nothing less than the distinction between the law ("Do this and live") and the gospel ("It is finished!").

And this is precisely the distinction that the New Perspective misses.

Heaven and Earth, Abraham and Moses

We've been talking about how Paul could say, on the one hand, that the law's purpose is to stop every mouth and silence the boasting of man, but then on the other hand claim that he was blameless with respect to the law's demand for righteousness.

I think he meant what he said in both cases. Accordingly, in neither case was he talking about a Pharisaical or legalistic perversion of the law. Let me explain....

In Paul's allegorical interpretation of Abraham's family, he likens the patriarch's handmaid, Hagar, to the covenant made at Mount Sinai, which both produces bondage and points to the present, earthly Jerusalem. Sarah, however, corresponds to "the Jerusalem which is above," and points to the heavenly and eternal realities promised in the Abrahamic Covenant.

This is key to having a properly formed covenant theology. The Abrahamic Covenant promised a heavenly reward that is received simply by faith in the coming Messiah. The Mosaic Covenant, on the other hand, promised earthly, temporal, and typological rewards (long life in the land). And further, to retell the story of Adam's failure and typify the work of true Israelite and second Adam, the earthly blessings promised in the Mosaic Covenant were gained by obedience to the law. The principle that Paul extracts from the Mosaic Covenant is "Do this and live" (Rom. 10:5; Gal. 3:12; cf. Lev. 18:5).

But think about it: How could God expect Israel to obey his law in that complete, perfect, Romans 2 sense? Weren't they fallen and sinful? On that standard, wouldn't they have gone into exile the moment they crossed the Jordan?

Of course. This is why, in order to maintain the theocracy and tell the Adamic story they were supposed to tell, the "righteousness" God required of Israel consisted of having a relative measure of national fidelity to the law's demands.

The mistake of the Pharisees, then, was not that they thought the law demanded works (which it did) or that they thought they had earned the righteousness that Moses demanded (which they did). But their mistake was that they confused the relative fidelity required by the national covenant to retain the earthly land, with the perfect fidelity required by the creation covenant to secure the heavenly land.

And as I hope to flesh out later, conflating the Abrahamic and Mosaic covenants (the way the New Perspective on Paul does) is an easy way to morph law and gospel into golawspel. And that doesn't save anyone....

I Fought the Law (and the Law Won)

From the context of Romans, it seems clear that Paul's statements in 2:6-13 (culminating in "It is not the hearers of the law who are righteous before God, but the doers of the law will be justified") are not intended to portray the kind of "living faith" that believers must exhibit in order to be accepted by God at the final judgement. Rather, when we allow Paul himself to summarize what he thought he just taught, we hear him say, "[The law speaks] so that every mouth may be stopped, and all the world may be held accountable to God" (3:19).

Hardly good news....

But there appears to be a discrepancy between his insistence in Romans that "through the law comes the knowledge of sin" (3:20), and his boast in Philippians that "as to the righteousness which is from the law, [I was] blameless" (3:6).

A common approach to this difficulty is to assume that, in one of these two statements, Paul is adopting a misunderstanding about the law that was common in his day. So his negative statements about the law (such as when he calls it a murderous ministry of death in II Cor. 3:6-7 or a source of bondage leading to servile fear in Gal. 3:23 - 4:7, cf. Rom. 8:15) are not really about the law per se, but about the Pharisaical misinterpretation of the law. So in this view, "law" = "legalism" (see Phil. 3:6 in the NIV).

Or if Paul really meant the negative things he said about the law in Romans, then his boast of being blameless according to the law's righteousness in Philippians must be understood to mean that he wasn't claiming to actually have been blameless, but he just thought he was when he was a legalistic Pharisee.

But, we are told, whatever he did mean, he certainly couldn't have meant what he actually said in both statements, could he? How could he say that the law's purpose was to condemn its subjects, while at the same time insisting that he blamelessly escaped such a sentence?

Will the "Doers of the Law" Please Stand Up?

We have seen that the term “righteous,” in its ordinary sense, describes the person who has performed the righteousness that the law prescribes, and that the result of this righteous conduct is justification and acquittal by the Judge on the last day. “The doers of the law,” Paul says, “will be justified” (Rom. 2:6-13).

But herein lies the problem....

Many NPP proponents claim that Rom. 2:6-13 describes normative Christian experience—the believer, through the power of the indwelling Spirit of the risen Christ, lives out his faith in active obedience to God, thus securing his final justification (which, according to N.T. Wright, is “on the basis of the entirety of the saint’s lived life”).

While confessional Presbyterian and Reformed theology certainly agrees with the New Perspective that Rom. 2:6-13 describes how justification would ordinarily occur, there is division over whether or not such an arrangement is possible given man’s sinfulness and inability to keep the law.

What do you think? Given the fact that “righteousness” and “justification” are said to be the possessions of the ones who are “doers of the law,” how ought we to understand the relationship of (Spirit-wrought) sanctification to justification at the last day?

Righteousness and Justification

Having stated that “righteousness,” in its ordinary usage, is a moral concept referring to what one has as a result of performing the good that the law requires, I will now try to defend this from Scripture.

The fact that Paul contrasts righteousness with sin and its synonyms is very relevant in this connection. Though there are many passages that demonstrate this (Rom. 5:7-8; 6:18-19), I’ll quote one for the sake of space: when seeking to prove his thesis that both Jews and Greeks are “under sin,” Paul quotes the psalmist:

“As it is written, ‘None is righteous, no, not one’” (14:1-3; cf. 53:1-3).

His point here in Rom. 3:9-10 is unmistakable—being “righteous” is the opposite of being “under sin,” thus placing both concepts in a moral category (at least in the passages cited).

When we turn, therefore, to the much-disputed Romans 2:6-13, we see that those who will be deemed righteous at the final judgment will be those who have done righteousness (which is in direct contrast to those are “self-seeking and obey unrighteousness”). And further, doing righteousness in this text consists of being a “doer of the law,” meaning that, for Paul, the law spells out the goodness required by God for justification.

“Righteous” in its ordinary usage, therefore, is a term that describes the one who does the righteousness that the law commands, and to be “justified” is to receive the treatment due to one who is indeed righteous and just.

Garden Variety Righteousness

At the risk of opening up a can of worms, I'd like to dabble a bit in some issues relating to the New Perspective on Paul.

As a disclaimer, the fact that I am an alumnus of Westminster Seminary California will probably open me up to the charge of being a bloodthirsty "heresy hunter" (as many critics of NPP are characterized), so I will do my best to keep the conversation civil.

My first proposition is as follows:

In its ordinary usage in Scripture, "righteousness" is a moral concept referring to what one has as a result of doing the good that the law requires.

Am I misdefining the term? Am I failing to do justice to its ecclesiastical or covenantal aspects? Have my Greek, forensic categories clouded my ability to appreciate the familial, loving, Hebrew context of this word's origin?

Fire away (but be gentle)....

Mercy Ministry and the Two Kingdoms, Part Five: An Overlooked Passage

Though the two most oft-quoted passages relating to mercy ministry are Luke 10:30-37 and Galatians 6:9-10, it would be a difficult task to prove their direct relevance by demonstrating that they provide instruction to the church, as such, for developing diaconal ministry.

But interestingly, there is one particular passage in the New Testament that explicitly addresses the issue of the church officially giving financial aid to those in need. In this passage we not only learn that the church is responsible for mercy ministry, but we also are provided with a checklist telling us exactly who qualifies. Ironically, however, this passage rarely finds its way into discussions of mercy ministries (due either to neglect, or the fact that we don't like its conclusions).

In I Timothy 5:3-16 we encounter the Apostle Paul giving specific instructions to his disciple regarding the financial aid that the church gives to widows. Paul begins with the less-than-sensitive statement that Timothy, as an overseer of the church, is to "honor widows who are truly widows" (v. 3). The obvious inference here is that there is more to a woman’s being a "widow" than her husband dying. According to the apostle, to qualify as a widow in need of financial assistance from the church, a woman must be thus described:

"[She has] set her hope on God and continues in supplications and prayers night and day… having a reputation for good works … she has brought up children, has shown hospitality, has washed the feet of the saints, has cared for the afflicted, and has devoted herself to every good work" (vv. 5, 10).

And this is not all. If she meets all of these requirements, but is either young enough to remarry or has children old enough to support her, she is not be given aid:

"But if a widow has children or grandchildren, let them first learn to show godliness to their own household and to make some return to their parents, for this is pleasing in the sight of God. She who is truly a widow, [is] left all alone...."

In fact, Paul is blunt enough to write:

"Let a widow be enrolled if she is not less than sixty years of age, having been the wife of one husband.... But refuse to enroll younger widows.... If any believing woman has relatives who are widows, let her care for them" (vv. 9, 11, 16).

Paul’s reasoning behind these strict instructions is clear: "Let the church not be burdened, so that it may care for those who are really widows" (v. 16).

OK, will someone please explain to me how this passage—undoubtedly the most relevant to the issue in the New Testament—is only NOW finding its way into our discussion of mercy ministry?

Why has all our talk about whether the church is "an agent of common grace" completely ignored the only text in the New Testament that actually addresses what we’ve been discussing?

And in the light of this pericope, can anyone still insist that a local church's diaconate is responsible for the needy outside the bounds of its immediate care?

Mercy Ministry and the Two Kingdoms, Part Four: The Christian Individual

Another important qualification to the (undisputed) notion that churches should have ministries of mercy concerns the role of the Christian as an individual. The position that many adopt (but rarely attempt to prove) is that passages like the parable of the Samaritan in Luke 10:30-37 or Paul’s instruction to “do good to everyone” in Galatians 6:9-10 apply to the institutional Church as such, rather than to the individual believer.

Indeed, this distinction has not even occurred to many Christians.

But it must be admitted that there are countless activities in which individual believers may feel called to engage, yet which do not fall under the purview of the Church’s mandate, properly understood. For example, if the majority of the members of a local congregation believe that a particular political candidate promotes a more healthy vision for his constituents than his opponent, those believers, as citizens of the civil kingdom, are perfectly free to do whatever is in their power to trumpet his cause. But then to assume that the local church to which they belong should cast its vote accordingly is to make a huge—and illegitimate—leap. One Christian’s hero may be another Christian’s villain. Therefore for a church to align itself with a political party is to assume that the Bible favors a particular ideology which it never intended to address.

In short, the Church’s Great Commission (the preaching of the Word and administration of the Sacraments) is more limited than the various spiritual, social, and political causes in which individual believers are free to engage.

With respect to mercy ministries, it would be naïve to think that the issues of who should be the recipients of church-sponsored financial assistance, and what form that assistance should take, are cut and dry. What may appear as compassion for the disenfranchised in the eyes of one could easily look like an irresponsible handout to the lazy in the eyes of another. The age-old debate about whether it is better, in the long run, to give a hungry man a basket of fish or a pole and bait remains unsettled, with sincere believers on both sides of the issue.

My point, then, is simply that there is a place for the believer to act according to his own individual conscience without those actions becoming the official ministry of the Church. And if you think about it, for the Church to commandeer benevolence and trademark mercy is somewhat insulting to all the kind, caring Muslims, Catholics, and atheists out there.

Mercy Ministry and the Two Kingdoms, Part Three: The State

Though it is difficult to argue with the conclusions already reached that fallen creatures stand in need of mercy and that believers ought to play a role in alleviating people’s burdens, this does not really answer the question concerning the extent of the local church’s involvement in ministries of mercy. Many Christians and church leaders assume that the mere presentation of the need for mercy, coupled with some scattered proof-texts like those already cited, gives us all we need to develop a model for mercy ministry. But as I have been arguing, some qualifications are in order.

One of these concerns the divine institution of the State.

Due to man's fall and the massive upheaval and restructuring of the world and how he relates to it, the kingdom of man is now distinct from the kingdom of God, and the State is now distinct from the Church (the establishment of the State is hinted at in Genesis 4:15, in which the existence of the common grace city serves to reassure Cain that he would be protected by a divinely sponsored administration of justice after his killing of Abel. The State’s role is described explicitly in Romans 13:1ff).

The State, therefore, exists alongside the Church as a divinely ordained institution that administers the blessings of God to humanity. Their respective jurisdictions are distinct, of course, as are the blessings they provide, but the fact remains that they both serve to protect the interests of their subjects.

How does this apply to mercy ministries? One way is that it reminds us that the Church is not the only vehicle that God has created for the alleviation of mankind’s burdens. To place the entire responsibility for societal reform upon the shoulders of the Church, therefore, is not only asking too much, it is ignoring the existence and function of common grace city.

Furthermore, when churches such as Redeemer Presbyterian Church in New York City state that their vision is “to bring about personal changes, social healing, and cultural renewal through a movement of churches and ministries that change New York City and through it, the world,” one may reasonably inquire whether this is an example of the Church biting off more than she can—or was ever intended to—chew.

Mercy Ministry and the Two Kingdoms, Part Two: Mercy's Mandate

We have seen that, upon man’s fall, God’s one, all-encompassing kingdom was divided, and a new set of categories was introduced. Holy activity (worship and sacrifice) was now distinguished from common activity (sowing and reaping), and the sacred realm (the covenant community) became distinct from the secular realm (the common grace city). In a word, after man’s fall his world was divinely re-ordered, the spiritual kingdom of God and the temporal city of man being separated. And with the exception of the typological Jewish theocracy under the Mosaic covenant, this situation has continued ever since.

Due to his woeful and self-inflicted condition, man now stands in need of mercy, of pity, and of compassionate aid. Both the Old and New Testaments provide ample warrant for the ministry of mercy toward those in need. In Deuteronomy 24:19-22 we read:

“When you reap your harvest in your field and forget a sheaf in the field, you shall not go back to get it. It shall be for the sojourner, the fatherless, and the widow, that the LORD your God may bless you in all the work of your hands. When you beat your olive trees, you shall not go over them again. It shall be for the sojourner, the fatherless, and the widow. When you gather the grapes of your vineyard, you shall not strip it afterward. It shall be for the sojourner, the fatherless, and the widow. You shall remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt; therefore I command you to do this.”

Likewise in the New Testament, our Lord’s parable about the Samaritan—whom we call “the Good Samaritan,” though he was only doing what the law commanded—teaches us that being one’s neighbor entails more than mere geographical proximity, it means showing mercy. “You go,” Jesus told the crowd, “and do likewise” (Luke 10:37). This principle is also found in the writings of Paul: “And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up. So then, as we have opportunity, let us do good to everyone, and especially to those who are of the household of faith” (Gal. 6:9-10).

There is no question, therefore, that the generous showing of mercy is commanded in both the Old and New Testaments, and ought to characterize the lives of all those who have been the beneficiaries of the bountiful mercy of God.

But a few qualifications are in order; Don't touch that dial....

Mercy Ministry and the Two Kingdoms, Part One: Pick a Sphere, Any Sphere

The idea that the Church's mandate includes alleviating the woes of the world's poor is axiomatic for many. Part of Bono's appeal for Africa, for example, includes the fact that the Old Testament is replete with references to the poor and Israel's responsibility to care for the disenfranchised within her borders.

But as with most discussions about cult and culture, the issue is rarely as simple as our prooftexts suggest.

Crucial to a proper understanding of this topic is the recognition of the various spheres that God has ordained to meet the manifold needs of his creatures -- these spheres being the Family, the State, and the Church. But it is also important to note that these spheres reflect a "divine reordering" that necessarily took place after Adam’s fall. As Meredith Kline writes, "[From the beginning] the originally mandated temple-city of Adam encompassed the totality of life and activity of humanity within its assigned jurisdiction." Or to de-Klineanize it a little, before Adam's fall, there was one holy kingdom and one holy sphere.

In the postlapsum situation, however, "the… aspects and functions of the original city were distributed among several nonconcentric authority structures that replaced the one original universal kingdom." Thus "along with the institution of the State in this common grace realignment stands the institution of the Family, with its own share of the redistributed functions and its own sphere of authority" (Kingdom Prologue, p. 172).

In short, after the fall the holy aspects of life are consigned to the spiritual kingdom of Christ, while the institutions of the Family and the State are the vehicles for the furtherance of God's temporal, common grace agenda.

So the questions that remain include: Is material aid for the poor a common or redemptive errand? Which sphere(s) -- Church, Family, or State -- bear(s) responsibility for the poor? Is the poor's claim upon the Church only valid if those in need are believing members?

What think ye?

The Sabbath: Not for Sale

As I've been trying to argue, the eschatological focus of the Church’s Sabbath observance bears witness to her identity as a foreign people, a peculiar polis, and a wandering tribe dispossessed "but for a moment."

For this reason, I would argue, the Church is never to see herself merely as culture’s errand-boy or a lackey of the State, existing to make life in this passing evil age a bit more comfortable. In their book Resident Aliens, Stanley Hauerwas and William Willimon echo this sentiment well:

"The political task of Christians is to be the church rather than to transform the world…[to be] a new people, an alternative polis, a countercultural social structure.... The church does not exist to ask what needs doing to keep the world running smoothly and then to motivate our people to go do it.... The church has its own reason for being, hid within its own mandate and not found in the world. We are not chartered by the Emperor."

Contrary to transformationist-driven Sabbatarianism, which values the Sabbath as "an instrument to promote and preserve the social order," the two kingdoms paradigm sets forth a version of Sabbath observance that is more than a "socially-constructed coping device" designed to make us better, more productive citizens of Egypt.

The logic of our observance, therefore, is antithetical to that of old covenant Israel and modern day Kuyperianism. It is not the preservation of the nation or the recovery of some "Golden Age" of days gone by that gets us out of bed early on Sunday morning, but the desire to faithfully maintain the ethos of our eschatological counterculture. In so doing we do not affirm the world but condemn it, employing God’s divinely-ordained tool to subvert the culture and its "idols of leisure and consumption."

The complaints and fears of many evangelicals notwithstanding, our post-Constantinian context has freed the Church from the task of legitimizing the State, thereby enabling us to proclaim that the Sabbath is not for sale.

Shall the Transformationists Win?

If keeping the Sabbath for the express purpose of maintaining the strength of America's social, political, and spiritual fabric is misdirected, then why bother? Shall the transformationists win?

I don't think Two Kingdoms advocates need to throw in the towel just yet. A semi-realized eschatology and the resulting two kingdoms framework together serve to provide a context for Sabbath observance that makes sense.

Historian John Muether writes, "[As a] dissident band of resident aliens… with the corporate identity of a disenfranchised and counter-cultural character," the new covenant church desperately needs the Sabbath in order to retain her peculiarity and distinctiveness from the world. Being a religious minority, God’s pilgrim people need to somehow maintain their "'fortress' or 'ghetto' mentalities that insulate them from the contamination of competing and more powerful (i.e. more socially plausible) worldviews." He continues:

"This is precisely what the Sabbath does [for God’s covenant people]: it enables them to live out their convictions in the context of fellow believers, providing the social support for their 'otherworldly,' or heavenly, citizenship. Put another way, a counter-cultural identity and the practice of the Sabbath become mutually reinforcing."

The corporate assembling of God’s people for worship on the Lord’s day, together with their refusal on this day to participate in the culture they affirm Monday through Saturday, is their way of testifying to the culture that they do not march to the beat of the world’s drum or organize their lives around the world’s notion of "the weekend." This sort of observance, writes Michael Horton,

"... would be a witness to the world that we are not slaves in Egypt, in bondage to the priorities of a greedy culture of marketing and entertainment…. As we refuse to surrender this day to the tyranny of the clock and the gods who amuse us, we enjoy a foretaste of heaven and also proclaim to the world that God is our refuge."

Thoughts?

Sabbatarianism Misdirected?

The religious history of this country is in many ways a history of Sabbath-observance. "If you would destroy the Christian religion," Voltaire is alleged to have said, "you must first destroy the Christian Sabbath." As goes the Sabbath, we have been continually reminded, so goes the Christian Church.

What is interesting to note, however, is that it is almost exclusively from a transformationist perspective that the ongoing validity of the fourth commandment has been insisted upon. In other words, if we desire to (re)claim the nation and her pursuits for Christ and ensure that Yahweh's healing hand will be ever upon these majestic purple mountains and amber waves of grain, we'd better get our butts to church.

"Sabbatarianism," OPC historian John Muether has argued, "was a crucial part of the agenda of nineteenth-century American evangelical social reform." This reason lay behind the institution of "blue laws," the forming of The General Union for Promoting the Observance of the Christian Sabbath in 1828, and the 1814 petition from the Presbyterian General Assembly to Congress that urged Sabbath observance based upon the claim that it "contributes to increase the amount of productive labour, to promote science, civilization, peace, social order, and correct morality." The conclusion is inescapable that "Sabbath breaking was punishable by the civil magistrate because it destroyed America’s moral and social fabric."

OK, show of hands: Do Sabbatarianism and transformationism represent a match made in heaven, or are they an unholy alliance of odd bedfellows? Why?

Working for the Weekend

Remember when you were in elementary school and you heard the teacher say something like, "Class, today is the first day of the Chinese New Year"? I remember thinking, "Umm, it's April.... Those Chinese sure are behind!"

The Chinese, I eventually realized, have a different culture than we do, and so their calendar was different.

And so it is with the Christian Church. What the world calls the last day of the weekend we call "the first day of the week" (Matthew 28:1). We structure our lives according to a Sabbatical pattern, as have God's people for thousands of years. The difference between Israel's Sabbath and the Church's, however, is that they worked all week in order to enter God's rest, while we participate in the rest of Jesus Christ before any work has been done by us at all.

Rather than seeing Sunday as "Saturday Part II," shouldn't we take it as an opportunity to protest the consumerism and Market-driven nature of the kingdom of man by refusing to participate in the frantic hustle and bustle that characterizes every other day of the week? After all, faithful attendance upon the means of grace week by week will do more to display to our children, friends, and neighbors the distinctive and countercultural nature of the Christian faith than a T-shirt that says "This Blood's For You" or a bumper sticker that reads "Got Jesus?"

And conversely, bumping into your neighbor at Costco on a Sunday afternoon subtly says to him, "Hey, we're not that different after all."

But then, our zeal to win the lost by "becoming all things to all men" may mean that the message that we're not that different is precisely what we want to communicate to the watching world.

Peculiar Speech

Speaking of speaking, here are a couple exerpts from United Methodist Bishop William Willimon; the first is from his book Resident Aliens (co-authored by Stanley Hauerwas), and the others are from “Peculiar Truth: Postmodern Preaching” in Modern Reformation, Vol. 12 (July/August 2003).

"[We] operate within a domain of distinct discourse. We talk differently here, working within a certain 'language game' to which everyone here subscribes for the duration of the conversation.... There is no way for us preachers to weasel out of the baptismal truth that we preach within a distinct universe of discourse. We talk funny."

"All faithful preaching begins as an act of a determinately self-revealing God, Yahweh, who loves to talk, who delights in argument, declaration, epistemological conflict, assertion, and promise, who loves to create something out of nothing through nothing more powerful than words....

"[Postmodern preaching] will be speaking that worries more about obedience to the text than about the allegedly contemporary context of our speaking. It will trouble itself more over proclaiming the Word than over any lack of contemporary response. Realizing modernity’s grave limits, it will be preaching that is willing not to be heard, understood, or grasped by affluent, early twenty-first century people. It will be preaching that delights in the convoluted thickness of the biblical text.

"We preachers ought never to forget that what Acts 2 wants us to call the gift of the Holy Spirit, is what the world attributed to too much booze too early in the day."

This is what we need to be hearing at church planting seminars and church growth conferences today! Rather than sacrificing the "Christianness" of Christianity on the altar of the Market, we should be delighting ourselves in the countercultural and foreign nature of our religion (yes, it's a religion), all the while seeking to enfold as many unbelievers into this story as we can.

And please note the irony: It's a Bishop in a mainline liberal denomination who needs to explain this stuff to us....

Pinch-Hitters, Pocket Rockets, Pitching Lips, and Perichoresis

"Bottom of the ninth, full count, runners at the corners."

"On the button, Texas Dolly flops the nut flush draw."

"Lowers was nice and hollow during the evening glass-off."

Not many people would be able to decipher even two of these phrases, let alone all three. Sure, we understand the words contained in them, but what their meaning is remains somewhat opaque. This is because the cultures represented by these sentences employ their own particular brand of slang which, to outsiders, sounds utterly foreign.

Moreover, when a channel-surfer comes across a TV program displaying one of the cultures represented by these sentences, he doesn't get angry with the commentator for using such obscure language. And conversely, if a long-time baseball fan were to turn on the game and hear the announcer say, "Runners at the corners, for all you first time viewers, means a runner on first base and another on third," he would probably be annoyed, and rightly so.

You see, every culture has its own unique way of speaking (which, if you think about it, is part of what makes a particular culture "particular" in the first place).

But for some reason, Christians are warned to avoid "Christianese," especially in church services. After all, what if a nonbeliever is there? What will she think if she hears the word propitiation?

Is it me, or is asking Christians to jettison Christianese about as silly as asking someone from Japan to quit speaking Japanese?

Early Christian Exiles

The second-century Epistle to Diognetus furnishes us with one of the earliest examples of how the early Christians thought of themselves and their relationship to the pagan culture around them. In chapter five we read:

"For the Christians dwell in their own countries, but simply as sojourners. As citizens, they share in all things with others, and yet endure all things as if foreigners. Every foreign land is to them as their native country, and every land of their birth as a land of strangers. They are in the flesh, but they do not live after the flesh. They pass their days on earth, but they are citizens of heaven.

"They love all men, and are persecuted by all. They are unknown and condemned; they are put to death, and restored to life. They are poor, yet make many rich; they are in lack of all things, and yet abound in all; they are dishonoured, and yet in their very dishonour are glorified. They are evil spoken of, and yet are justified; they are reviled, and bless; they are insulted, and repay the insult with honour; they do good, yet are punished as evil-doers. When punished, they rejoice as if quickened into life; they are assailed by the Jews as foreign-ers, and are persecuted by the Greeks; yet those who hate them are unable to assign any reason for their hatred."

This glimpse into the pre-Constantinian church is a challenge to the triumphalistic attitudes of many today who are fond of (mis)quoting II Chronicles 7:14 to remind God of his "covenant promises" to prosper America.

If the Church were to slip even more deeply into cultural obscurity, if the people of God were made to pay a price for our faith, if believers were forced to relinquish our utopian visions of a this-worldly country "reclaimed for Christ" -- in a word, if we set our eyes upon the eternal City whose Builder and Maker is God, only then will we begin to understand the pilgrim existence that our brothers and sisters of old endured.

Incest and Atheism, Cannibalism and Christianity

"Incestuous." "Atheists." "Cannibals."

Such were the common descriptions of the early Christians by their nonbelieving contemporaries. Apparently their insistence upon marrying only brothers and sisters in the faith, their rejection of the Caesar cult of Rome, and their practice of eating the body and drinking the blood of their Leader effectively squelched whatever attempts the primitive church made to appear "relevant" to the world around them.

Add to this the fact that most of the early Christians were martyred, and any present-day delusions of ecclesiastical grandeur and cultural conquest quickly appear to smack more of good ol' American self-confidence than of realistic, vintage Christianity.

From our language to our calendars, from our past history to our future hope, there's just no way around it: Christians are weird.

How should we feel about this? Should we be ashamed, or should we embrace our weirdness?

Sola Scriptura?

This is something of a post script to my last installment on "application" in preaching, but I beg your indulgence nonetheless....

I have been wondering lately whether or not the faithful exposition of a passage of Scripture is sufficient in and of itself, or does the exposition's legitimacy only appear when its relevance to my life is demonstrated?

For example, I will be preaching soon on Ephesians 1:3, which says that "all spiritual blessings in heavenly places" are to be found "in Christ." Now, if I show from this verse (and others like it) the folly of seeking any blessing from God apart from the Person and work of Jesus, and conversely, that Christ is the fountain of all of heaven's treasure, is that enough? Does the ordinary church-goer see that point as being particularly relevant, or do I need to add something like, "Now for you stay-at-home moms out there..."?

My hope for the evangelical church today is that a faithfully-preached gospel would provide sufficient manna to satisfy God's pilgrim people, but my fear is that, like the wilderness wanderers of old, the delicacies of Egypt seem far more appealing.

God and Coppertone

One of the touchiest areas in preaching is the part that is usually tacked on at the end of the sermon: application. Now you may be thinking, "What's so hard about application? Just tell me how to put the biblical passage into practice." But God is not like Coppertone -- he's just not that easy to apply.

As creatures made in God's image, we are "wired" for law. By this I mean that, unlike the gospel, which is foreign and counterintuitive, the law is in us by nature. Whether it's "Five Simple Steps for Victorious Living" or "Ten Ways to Improve Our Marriages," the fact is undeniable that the imago Dei in us craves instruction, and the American in us believes that if we put our minds to it, by golly, we can accomplish anything.

When we add to our moral self-confidence the fact that we are hopelessly self-obsessed, practical application becomes even more tricky. You see, the notion that the Bible is not actually about us, but about Jesus Christ, is rather offensive to our fragile egos. Hence the promise on the websites of our megachurches that the messages given contain helpful principles that can be used in the "real world" (which means my world). But when all the minister does is talk about Jesus and what he has done the complaint quickly arises, "But what does all that have to do with ME?"

I'm not suggesting we jettison practical application, but I am suggesting that we alter our approach to it. Rather than viewing God as a commodity that religious consumers use to improve their lives, ought we not reorient our lives to make them useful for him and his purposes? And instead of reducing God to a "co-pilot" whose occasional advice helps steer the ship of our lives, shouldn't we see ourselves as hopelessly shipwrecked without him, and him alone, at the helm?

It is only after we humbly acknowledge that we are but small parts of something much greater and grander than oursleves that we will ever be ready to be told what to do.

A Kinder, Gentler Moses?

I realize I'm doing this out of order, but as a follow-up to my last post on Christ in the Prophets I'd like to discuss the issue of preaching Christ from the Law.

Again, we must beware of the danger of simply drawing the line from the Old Testament commandment straight to ourselves. I realize we're a self-obsessed and narcissistic lot, but our need for self-application can easily get us into trouble.

The Penteteuch (the five books of Moses) forms the foundation of the covenant that Yahweh made with Israel on Mount Sinai. That may sound rather obvious, but please don't miss the point. The Mosaic Covenant had some important distictives that radically affect how its commandments come to us on this side of the cross and empty tomb. The most significant of these distinctives is the "works principle" that stands behind the various laws and precepts of the Old Covenant. Paul sums up this works principle by quoting Leviticus 18:5:

"For Moses writes about the righteousness that is based on the law, that the person who does the commandments shall live by them" (Rom. 10:5 cf.Gal. 3:12).

Looming over the entire Sinaitic legislation were the promised blessings for obedience and threatened curses for disobedience. If Israel did what they swore they would do, then they would enjoy long life in the land of Canaan, but if they transgressed the law, they would suffer the covenant curses, culminating in exile.

What about us today? Do we labor under the constant threat of disinheritance? Is our standing in continual jeopardy?

Absolutely not. All of the curses of the law have been poured out upon Jesus Christ, the second Adam and true Israelite. The terror of Sinai has been swallowed by the mercy of Zion, and God's children are now free to obey him as full-grown heirs whose future inheritance has been brought forward into the present by virtue of the indwelling Spirit if the risen Christ.

In a word, Jesus suffered the exile which the Babylonian captivity foreshadowed in order to elicit obedience from his children without fear. He is neither a "kinder, gentler Moses" nor a harsh tyrant whose sermon on the mount ratcheted up God's demands while providing no hope for their fulfillment. Rather, as Paul assured the Romans, "Christ is the end of the law for righteouness to everyone who believes" (10:4).

Moralism, Character Studies, and Daring to be a Daniel

In my last post I used the oft-employed sermon title “Dare to be a Daniel” as an example of moralistic preaching. Let me explain....

When reading the Old Testament, the temptation arises to try to relate directly to the biblical characters in order to make the passage relevant to our lives today. “Daniel didn't back down in the face of pagan adversity,” we think to ourselves, “and therefore the message of this text is that I shouldn't back down either.”

This hermeneutic is perfectly illustrated by the lyrics and cover art of Keith Green's album No Compromise. The cover depicts an ancient scene in which a multitude of people is bowing before a pagan ruler, with one courageous man in their midst standing upright in defiance. The lyric says, “No empty words, no white lies, no token prayers, no compromise.”

Now please do not misunderstand me. I’m not saying that Old Testament characters like Daniel provide no examples for us to aspire to. What I am saying, though, is that drawing the line directly from them to ourselves is a misguided and dangerous method for devotional reading, hermeneutics, and (especially) Christian preaching.

The fact is that Daniel, brave though he may have been at times, was still a fallen prophet. Moreover, his ministry of pointing Israel to the soon-to-be-realized deliverance from captivity resulted in a return to the same Mosaic economy that was powerless to prevent their exile in the first place.

The “line,” therefore, must be drawn from Daniel, through Christ, and then to us. When we read the prophet from this side of the cross and empty tomb, we realize that he applies to our current situation because he both points to, and demonstrates the need for, the true “Prophet whom the Lord God would raise up from among his brethren” (Acts 3:22; cf. Deut. 18:15), the very Prophet who was “not without honor save in his own country” (Mark 6:4), and who alone among the children of men stood tall amid the onslaught of the serpent’s temptations (Matt. 4:1ff; cf. Gen. 3:1ff). The Lord Jesus Christ, not Daniel, is the One who dared not compromise, but chose rather to be obedient to the point of death, even the death of the cross.

When the central Figure in all of Scripture is marginalized or altogether forgotten, all the hearer is left with is the courageous example of a fallen man in a sermon that could just as easily have been preached in a synagogue, mosque, or Promise Keepers convention.

When Jesus Doesn't Jump Off The Page

OK, we've established that any exposition of a text that neglects to set forth "Christ and him crucified" ultimately falls short of being a Christian sermon. But how is the preacher to (legitimately) find Christ in an obscure Old Testament text? Genesis 22 or Isaiah 53 are easy, but what about less obviously Christological passages?

Let me provide an example from a portion of Scripture where Jesus doesn't exactly jump off the page at you: Ezra 3:10-13.

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In this passage, the newly-returned exiles have begun to rebuild their temple, but upon the laying of the foundation, the emotions of the people were mixed. Many cried out for joy at God's faithfulness, but others (particularly the elderly who remembered Solomon's temple) lifted up their voices and wept, so that "the people could not distinguish the sound of the joyful shout from the sound of the people's weeping."

Coupled with this obviously "small beginning" and the lingering trouble posed by Israel's enemies outside the camp was a palpable sense of anticlimax that clung to this whole venture. Yes, Israel was back in the land, but they were still laboring under the same covenant that had both threatened and foretold the exile from which they had just been liberated. In a word, they were in no better a position than they were in before their captivity. The law, the temple, the priesthood -- indeed the entire Mosaic Covenant -- screamed at them "DO THIS AND LIVE!" If Israel obeyed, they were promised blessing and long life in the land. But if they failed (again), a threatened curse loomed on the horizon. The law could command, but it could not renew. Hence the bittersweetness of this building project.

So was this it? Was this the promised restoration that God's people had been longing for? Was it their fate to forever worship him under the constant threat of disinheritance?

Absolutely not! About 560 years later, in that very spot on the temple mount, a Man stood and cried, "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up" (which his disciples later learned was a reference to his resurrection). And concerning the physical temple that then stood, he simply said, "Do you see this temple? Not one stone will be left upon another which shall not be thrown down."

God's people no longer labor under the harsh tyranny of the law which, metaphorically speaking, commanded bricks to be made while providing no straw. Rather, we worship under a New Covenant, the blood of whose Mediator speaks better things than that of Abel. The law commands "Do this and live," while the gospel cries out, "It is finished!"

********

The more we read the Bible Christocentrically, the more we'll see him on every page. And pretty soon we'll become so trained to expect Christ to be preached in every sermon that the usual moralism ("Dare to be a Daniel!") and therapeutic pop psychology ("Ten Steps for Raising Positive Kids in a Negative World") will no longer suffice. God's children need to feed on the Gospel of the crucified and risen Christ, not on the Law of a kinder and gentler Moses.

Tell Me the Story

In U2's version of a lament psalm ("Wake Up Dead Man") Bono pleads,

Tell me,
Tell me the story;
The one about eternity,
And the way it's all gonna be.

This is a common theme in the biblical canon as well. It seems like God is constantly in the business of performing redemptive acts and then talking about them. Virtually every time he addressed his people in Old Testament times he began by reminding them, "I am the LORD your God, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage" (Deut. 5:6). Entire chapters of Scripture are devoted to rehearsing God's mighty acts in history (Ex. 15; Ps. 78).

In the church today, however, we often hear that the pastor's message must be "relevant" and "applicable to daily life." God, it seems, is a character in my drama, rather than the other way around.

But when God's people today corporately gather around Word and Sacrament, it is not to re-align God's priorities to match our own, but to re-align and re-orient ourselves to him. He has taken our plotless and pointless lives and rescripted them, writing us into his cosmic drama of which he is the Playwright and Director, and in which Jesus Christ, and not we, has the starring role.

Christ-centered preaching, therefore, does not force the Savior into the sermon or cleverly leap from an obscure text to Jesus, but it takes the trees (the verses being expounded) and properly situates them in the forrest (the larger story of redemption). In a word, faithful preaching addresses a "people who were once not a people" and re-constitutes them as "the people of God" and as newly-added characters in the epic tale that he is telling.

Christ-Centered Preaching

Proponents of "Christ-Centered Preaching" (such as Bryan Chapell, President of Covenant Seminary, and Michael Horton, Professor of Theology and Apologetics at Westminster Seminary California) argue that the Person and work of Jesus Christ is the central message of the Bible, and therefore any sermon that fails to do justice to Scripture's central message necessarily fails in its primary task.

The New Testament abounds with evidence for the Christ-centeredness of God's revelation; Luke 24:27, 44-45 is a characteristic example:

"And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself.... Then he said to them, 'These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you, that everything written about me in the Law of Moses and the Prophets and the Psalms must be fulfilled.' Then he opened their minds to understand the Scriptures."

But the matter is far from settled.

There are those who argue that, while Christ is certainly to be preached from passages where he is explicitly mentioned or typified, to force him into every text is an unnatural imposition that does damage to the message of that particular passage.

There are others who agree with Christ-centered preaching in theory, but have difficulty making the transition from the (perhaps obscure) text to Christ. The result is often an awkward jump from "Samuel hacked Agag into pieces" to "Sick of being 'hacked to pieces' by the world? Come to Jesus!"

And finally, evidence suggests that the majority of evangelical pastors consider messages focusing on the cross and resurrection to be irrelevant to modern church-goers. The Gospel is great for unbelievers, but once they're "in," they need practical messages that are useful in "the real world."

Into which category do you fit?

"We Preach Christ...."

"Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom," Paul wrote in I Corinthians 1:22-23, "but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles."

Was Paul using hyperbole here? Did he really "preach Christ crucified" in every sermon?

For many today, what has become known as "Christ-Centered Preaching" runs the risk of blunting the sharp edges of biblical imperatives (for example, after reading the command that Christians should love God and neighbor, the minister says, "Well since we can't do this, it's a good thing Jesus died for us!"). Further, "redemptive-historical preaching" is often considered tantamount to preaching the same sermon every week with a different text ("In John 11:35 we read, 'Jesus wept.' Now you'll remember that Adam was originally created good....").

What are we to make of Christ-centered preaching? Redemptive-historical preaching? How do these differ from the Puritan method of Doctrine, Reason, Use? What role does "application" play in preaching? And perhaps most importantly, How on earth do we make an ancient text relevant for the (post)modern hearer?

Remarks on "Sarx"

We've been looking at the warfare between "Spirit" (pneuma) and "flesh" (sarx), and my argument has been that Romans 7 does not describe this battle (the struggle there is between the Jew and the Mosaic law that binds him). The battle in Galatians 5, however, does effect us as New Covenant saints, but the warfare is not an internal struggle between the good and bad sides of our nature, but a clash on a more cosmic scale. Let me explain....

In the Old Testament, the word for "flesh" (baśar) denoted physical corpses (Gen. 2:21, 23) and, by extension, came to connote humanity and its frailty (Gen. 6:12; Ps. 78:39). Paul's use of "flesh," however, rarely denotes "physical bodies," but often describes the human condition (life kata sarka or en sarki). Flesh, in this sense, is not pejorative but simply descriptive of natural human existence.

Where Paul's use of sarx is unique, however, is in its eschatological formulation. Because the resurrection of Christ ushered in the power and dynamic of the age to come (which the apostle calls "Spirit"), everything associated with "this present age," including Torah, has passed into the realm of "flesh" (Eph. 1:14; 4:30; II Cor. 5:5, 14-17; Rom. 7:4-7). Christian living, therefore, is described by Paul as "walking not according to the flesh [this present earthly age] but according to the Spirit [the heavenly age to come]."

Paul's use of sarx, therefore, highlights the progression from anthropological creatureliness (humanity) to theological creatureliness (sinful humanity), and finally, to eschatological existence (life in accordance with this age).

New Covenant saints, therefore, are "Spiritual" (pneumatikoi), not spiritual schizophrenics with an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. Our calling is to live out our heavenly citizenship in the here and now, being seated in glory while standing in the path of sinners.

Or as the beloved German reformer put it: Simul iustus et peccator.

Spirit, Flesh, and Spiritual Schizophrenia

How often have we heard that, living within each believer, is a "good nature" and a "bad nature" which contantly vie for our allegiance? Sometimes the following illustration is used to bring the point home:

"The good part of us (the spirit) and the bad part of us (the flesh) are like two dogs in a fight. Which will win? Well, obviously the one we feed the most."

[Insert warning against secular music here.]

This principle certainly makes sense on the canine level, but is it Pauline? Is it really the case that we each have an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other? And further, is the NIV's rendering legitimate, which translates sarx (flesh) as "sinful nature"?

I'll elaborate in future posts, but for now I'll just state my position: Neither the battle within the "wretched man" of Romans 7 nor the warfare between the "Spirit" and the "flesh" in Galatians 5 has anything to do with an internal struggle within the believer. The former is indeed an existential struggle, but not one that New Covenant saints need concern themselves with (see my post on Postmortem Remarriage below). The latter, Galatians 5, is a struggle in which believers engage, but the warring categories (flesh and Spirit) are not internal but external, not micro but macro, not individual but eschatological.

To live under a two-dogs-fighting paradigm for sanctification betrays a woefully under-realized eschatology. If we accept this as normative for the Christian life, we may as well put a bumper sticker on our car that reads, "Christians Aren't Perfect, Just Forgiven."

Thoughts?

Adults-Only Sanctification

We have seen that Romans 7 fleshes out what Paul means by "under the law" in 6:14 -- to be under the law is to be under the jurisdiction of the Mosaic legislation, with its curse sanctions for disobedience. This situation exacerbates the dominion of sin since the law only has the power to command, and not the power to renew the heart.

What does it mean, then, to be "under grace"?

As would be expected, Paul describes life under grace in Romans 8. If life "under the law" referred to existence under the Old Covenant, then life "under grace" refers to existence under the New Covenant of which Christ, not Moses, is the Mediator.

If the Old Covenant was characterized by Torah (law), the New Covenant is characterized by Pneuma (Spirit). The third Person of the Godhead is altogether absent from Romans 7:14-25, yet he appears 19 times in Romans 8. What accounts for this?

The so-called contrast between flesh and Spirit (big S) is not simply an anthropological one, as if these two categories denote the good and bad parts of the believer. Rather, the contrast between these two concepts (and between Romans 7 and 8 specifically) is redemptive-historical. The Holy Spirit, whose proper domain is the glory of heaven, has intruded into this present age and been shed forth upon the Church by the risen Christ. The new aeon has dawned in Jesus' resurrection, which constituted him a "life-giving Spirit" (I Cor. 15:45). The subsequent gift of the Spirit on the Day of Pentecost signified the in-breaking into this age of the resurrection-power of the age to come. As Paul put it in Ephesians 1:19-20, God works in us powerfully "according to the working of his mighty power which he worked in Christ when he raised him from the dead."

The people of God, therefore, are no longer underage heirs who, differing little from slaves, must be under constant watch by the babysitter of the law. Rather, as full-grown adults we have been given the Spirit of the risen Christ, who functions as a foretaste of heaven and guarantee of our future and final Sabbath rest (Gal. 4:1-7).

In the light of these things, what manner of persons ought we to be?

Postmortem Remarriage

The traditional interpretation of Romans 7:14ff argues that Paul's description of the spiritual impotence of the "wretched man" is the normative experience of all believers because of indwelling sin.

But this cannot be the case (our present struggles notwithstanding).

Compare 6:14, which we've been considering, to 7:14. In the former verse, the apostle tells us that those under the dominion of grace are not in bondage to sin. In the latter verse, however, he describes the experience of a person who is "carnal," and who is "sold as a slave to sin." To make matters worse, in 8:7 he categorically denies that the "carnal" mind, which is "hostile to God," can submit to God's law. But this is precisely what the "carnal" man does in 7:22 -- he "delights in the law of God in his inner being" (albeit without much practical success).

The answer to the question, "Is Romans 7 describing a regenerate or an unregenerate person?" must, therefore, be No.

Given the historical and covenantal interpretation of "under [the] law" offered in previous posts, we must conclude that the existential differences between the person described in Romans 7 and Romans 8 cannot be attributed to an existential experience, be it a Wesleyan "second blessing" or anything else.

Rather, the difference between the saint of chapter 7 and the saint of chapter 8 is redemptive-historical, as the text itself clearly states. The believer described in chapter 7 "serves" God, but does so "in the old way of the letter" rather than in the "new way of the Spirit" (7:6). In other words, the saint in Romans 7 is under the dominion of sin because he is under the dominion of the Mosaic law (cf. 6:14).

But as Romans 8 demonstrates, the New Covenant saint has died to the law and been "married to another." When Torah gave way to Pneuma on the day of Pentecost, impotence was eclipsed by power, bondage matured into sonship, and letter was swallowed by Spirit.

Nomos: Sin's Subtle Accomplice

Having determined that Paul's phrase "under the law" in Romans 6:14 is describing the condition of being under the dominion of the law of Moses in particular (rather than under God's condemnation more generally), we must now ask the obvious question, "What is the connection that Paul clearly draws between between the Mosaic law's jurisdiction and the dominion of sin?"

The answer is found, not surprisingly, in the works principle that stands at the core of the Mosaic law: "Do this and live" (Lev. 18:5; Rom. 10:5; Gal. 3:12). Paul sums this up succinctly in I Corinthians 15:56b: "The power of sin," he insisted, "is the law."

Regardless of whatever else we may deduce concerning the condition of the Old Testament saint, the fact remains that he labored under a covenant that threatened a curse for his disobedience, and that threat hung like a dark cloud over all his service to God. The effect of this was not only to make Israel more aware of their sin by now making it transgression, it also exacerbated the sin problem. While the principle of sin had inhered in Adam's fallen race from his rebellion onward, it was the subsequent giving of the law that gave power to the native lusts of God's fallen creatures.

This, obviously, hindered the degree of santification possible under the Old Covenant economy.

Just ask the wretched man of Romans 7.

Law, Grace, and the Historia Salutis

"For sin shall not have dominion over you, for you are not under the law, but under grace."

When a simple investigation of the handful of times Paul uses the phrase hypo nomon ("under [the] law") is undertaken, it becomes clear that the apostle is using "law" not in some abstract, a-historical sense, but in a concrete, historical one.

In other words, "the law," in Paul, is more a matter of the historia salutis (redemption historically accomplished) than the ordo salutis (redemption individually applied). Or to put it more simply, the entrance of the law is an historical phenomenon (like the incarnation), not an existential one (like conversion).

Consider what is said of "the law" in the immediately preceding context (Rom. 5:13-14, 20). There was a period of time that the apostle designates as "until the law" and "when there is no law" which spanned "from Adam to Moses." When we compare this with Galatians 3:17-25, where Paul argues that the law "came" 430 years after the Abrahamic promise, and remained in effect "until Christ came," the historical (covenantal) nature of law couldn't be more obvious.

The phrase"under the law," then, does not describe the condition of any person until he or she trusts Christ. Rather, it describes the historical state of those Israelites who lived between Moses and Christ, and under the Old Covenant.

But why does Paul draw the connection between the dominion of the Mosaic law and the dominion of sin?

"Under the Law" - An Existential Condition?

"For sin shall not have dominion over you, for you are not under the law, but under grace."

A correct understanding Romans 6:14 is both the key that unlocks the larger pericope of chapters 6-8, as well as being crucial for for grasping the dynamic of New Covenant sanctification. So let's dive in....

We'll kick off our discussion with a consideration of Paul's phrase hypo nomon ("under [the] law"). What does he mean by this?

A common interpretation of "under the law" is that the apostle is describing the condition of any person, irrespective of his or her historical context, who lives under the condemnation of God due to his or her violation of God's moral will. Calvin writes:

"Hence, not to be under the law means... that we are no longer subject to the law, as requiring perfect righteousness, and pronouncing death on all who deviate from it in any part.... For how much soever we may be harrassed by the stings of sin, it cannot yet overcome us, for we are able to conquer it by the Spirit of God; and then, being under grace, we are freed from the rigorous requirements of the law."

The condition of being "under the law," in other words, is an existential one that plagues any and all who are devoid of grace.

To determine whether or not this is a correct interpretation of hypo nomon we must take a look at the other instances in which Paul used this phrase. It'll only take a minute, so I'd ask you to actually look them up. There is one in I Corinthians (9:20) and five in Galatians (3:23; 4:4-5, 21; 5:18).

In the light of these passages, can "under [the] law" be understood existentially and a-historically?

New Covenant Sanctification

I'd like to start a discussion about the life of the believer under the New Covenant, the length of which will partly be determined by the amount of interest and feedback it receives.

One of the most important -- and most misunderstood -- passages dealing with this theme is Romans 6:14, where Paul says, "Sin shall not have dominion over you, for you are not under the law, but under grace."

In the next few posts I'd like to unpack this statement, addressing such issues as what the apostle means by his under law/under grace distinction (Is it existential? Is it redemptive historical?), as well as the connection in Paul's mind between the dominion of the law and the dominion of sin. And of course, no discussion about sanctification would be complete without tackling the question of the identity of the "wretched man" in Romans 7.

Other issues that may arise include the validity of the law/gospel distinction insofar as it is propounded by contemporary Lutheranism and the nature of the New Covenant's "newness."

Feel free to weigh in....

WAR IS OVER! (If You Want It)

The title of this post is taken from the text of a huge billboard that was erected in Times Square in December, 1969. Underneath these words it simply said "Happy Christmas from John and Yoko."

War is a divisive issue, and there is tension concerning it not only in the minds of believers, but in the Bible itself. God told his Old Testament people to utterly destroy their enemies, down to the last man, woman, and child, but Jesus says to turn the other cheek. Peter says we are to submit to every human institution, including the government, but the government itself allows non-participation in war for "conscientious objectors."

What are we, as citizens of both the civil and spiritual kingdoms, to think about an issue like war? If you were drafted, would you go? Would it depend on the merits of the individual war, or would your answer be one of principle regardless of the popularity or perceived legitimacy of the war you were asked to fight?

How to be Missional and Countercultural

Well, I've spent (more than) enough time describing what the Church is not to do under the guise of contextualization, but lest I fall prey to Moody's quip ("I like the way I do evangelism more than the way you don't do it") I will do my best to describe what a missional church would look like under a two kingdoms rubric.

First, I draw a distinction between being missional and being contextual. "Missional" is a mindset that believers should have at all times. The goal of missional churches is to send, not necessarily to attract. "Contextual," on the other hand, seems to describe the tone and ethos of the actual worship service rather than the behavior of the saints Monday through Saturday.

But here's where a two kingdoms paradigm comes into play: During corporate worship on the Lord's day, we are no longer American, Asian, black, white, rich, poor, barbarian, Scythian, bond, or free. In other words, it is our unique folk culture that we are to unabashedly display in public worship, with all its ancient and countercultural glory. Our "context" for worship, therefore, is Mount Zion and the heavenly Jerusalem, and our primary concern is not pleasing the culture, but pleasing Jesus, the Mediator of the new covenant, whose blood speaks better things than that of Abel (Heb. 12:22-24).

So when God, through his minister, calls the saints heavenward to worship, the purpose of the remainder of the gathering is just that: for the saints to worship. But when the service culminates with God, through his minister, commissioning his people to go forth in his Name and with his blessing, these redeemed people, having just experienced the Lord's calling, cleansing, consecration, and communion, are now to go out into all the world and make disciples of all nations.

So our missional calling does not mean that we adapt divine worship to the presuppositions, trends, and tastes of this passing age. What it does mean, however, is that we cease trying to attract people to church with our pandering and programs and start living our most holy faith before the eyes of a watching world.

This is the kind of mission I am excited about, for it is this, and not cultural mimicry, that will compel postmodern cynics to ask us a reason for the hope that lies within us.

Form and Content, Medium and Message

Marshall McLuhan has famously stated that "the medium is the message." This means that it is not only the content of what we say that speaks to people, but the form which our message takes screams every bit as loudly.

As social critic Ken Myers has written, "The assumption that all forms are neutral is not itself a neutral assumption." In other words, the idea that as long as the message of the Bible is preached, it makes little difference what types of media are used to convey that message, is a uniquely post-Enlightenment position with which hardly anyone in the first 1500 years of Church history would have agreed.

I could provide an obvious example involving, say, "Fairest Lord Jesus" sung to the tune of "I Stab People" by the Insane Clown Posse, but for the sake of bringing the point a little closer to home, take the issue of informal dress (of which most informal churches are quick to assure us when we visit their websites). It is undeniable that there is a connection between the anti-authoritarian assumptions of post-sixties Americans and the resistance of many of today's evangelicals to dress as nicely for church as they do for work. In the "wardrobe wars," it seems, God can't hold a candle to Mammon.

A better example could be provided from Paul's argument to the Corinthians that their desire for the Christian message to be presented with such power and eloquence that it would seem impressive in the eyes of men is utterly inconsistent with the nature of that message. If the gospel is all about the weakness and foolishness of the cross, then to present it in glitzy packaging is rather inconsistent. Like trying to hold water in a sieve or communicate the Pythagorean Theorem using smoke signals, the content simply can't be conveyed using that form.

Is it possible that, in our insistence upon the supposed neutrality of the media which carry our message, we have allowed our cultural convictions to shape our conventions, thus rendering our churches expressions of our cultural disorder, rather than remedies for it?

Intelligibility or Familiarity?

A frequent objection from the missional crowd (by the way, who says they get to co-opt that word?) is that Reformed or traditional worship is "unintelligible" to non-believers.

Let's pause here and examine this charge for a moment.

Imagine the following scenario during a worship service: The pastor says something like, "Let us pray together and confess our sins and shortcomings to God," then everyone prays, and then the pastor says, "God is a loving and forigiving God, and if you confessed your sins to him, he forgives you for Jesus' sake."

For the life of me, I can't figure out what is so unintelligible about this! Assuming the non-Christians present actually speak English and have come across the words pray, sin, and God at some point in their lives, then I must conclude that they can at least figure out what's happening all around them: Christians sin, God doesn't like it, but when they confess it, he forgives them because he loves them.

Is it familiar to them? Certainly not! But unfamiliarity is not the same as unintelligibility.

But when you stop to think about it, Christian worship is unfamiliar to everyone before they become Christians (just like the culture of Bangkok is unfamiliar upon one's first visit). As with the entire Christian life, the longer we walk with Jesus and worship him, the more comfortable and familiar we become with him, his people, his Word, and his worship.

After all, if creating a church experience that is completely familiar to the non-believer is our goal, we'll have to ask ourselves, "But if our church is no different from what they get in the world, why would they bother to show up?"

Enter the Xboxes, the velcro walls, and whatever else will entertain the religious consumers.

Gimme That Ol' Time, Middle Eastern, Reformed Religion!

There are a couple objections on the part of the "contextualizers" that I'd like to address briefly in this post and the next.

The first is that churches with "traditional worship" (a phrase I hate) are simply replacing worship that would be relevant in this culture with worship that was relevant in the culture of Calvin's Geneva 500 years ago.

This is simply false.

As anyone who has studied the history of Christian worship will testify, in no sense whatsoever were the Reformers trying to reinvent the worship wheel. Rather, they were interested in going back to the earliest sources they could find in order to separate primitive Christian worship from its medieval Roman Catholic distortions and aberrations. As liturgical scholar Hughes Old has ably demonstrated in his Patristic Roots of Reformed Worship, the services in all the sixteenth-century Reformed churches were every bit as ancient to those people as they seem to us today. Reformed worship, therefore, is not white, Genevan, or Northern European.

In fact, the early church in the book of Acts worshiped according to the pattern of the Jewish synagogues, which was characterized by set patterns, liturgy, readings, and prayers. This means that the worship of Reformed churches in North America today is not only similar to that of Geneva, but to that of the early church fathers, the apostles, and the people of God during Old Testament times.

If you ask me, that's pretty good company....

Pop Culture, Folk Culture

What do the advocates of "contextualization" mean exactly by that term?

Yeah, yeah, I know: We're supposed to communicate in terms that the culture can actually understand. But everyone agrees with that (at least in theory). Beyond the obvious, though, what should churches do in order to be contextual?

It is here that a crucial distinction comes into play: pop vs. folk culture.

Many seem to presuppose that pop culture sets the terms of the discussion, and then the Christian church must conform. So, since Boomers in our culture want a relaxed worship experience in which they can hear Beach Boys style music surrounded by people in leis and hula skirts, we should give them that. After all, as long as the message is good, the form it takes doesn't matter, right? Welcome to Margaritaville Community Church!

But pop culture is a pretty recent concept (until the invention of analog tape and the subsequent ability to mass-market and mass-produce it, pop culture didn't have a leg to stand on).

Christianity, however, has always been a folk culture. We are a "peculiar people" with a calendar, language, and history that are unique and distinct from the world's (with some overlap, of course). So rather than asking, "How many X-Boxes will our children's ministry need to have a large, successful church?" we should be asking, "What, according to the Bible's folk culture, should our children's ministry look like?"

When we ask the right question, we find (to our contemporary culture's horror) that it is biblical for kids to worship together with their parents from as early an age possible, and that dividing the body of Christ by age or musical tastes is an incredibly American thing to do.

But isn't insisting that families forget their own personal tastes and worship together "irrelevant" in today's society?

Maybe. But when a society's popular culture is out of accord with the Bible's folk culture, it is the former, and not the latter, that is the truly irrelevant one.