The Federal Vision on Law and Gospel

On "Law and Gospel," the recently-issued Joint Statementof the Federal Vision reads, in part:

"When [those in rebellion against God] have been brought to the point of repentance by the Holy Spirit, we affirm that the gracious nature of all God’s words becomes evident to them."

"All of God's words" are not gracious. The gospel is gracious, the law, on the other hand, is legal. That's why it's called law, and that's why our theologians distinguish between law and gospel as God's "two words" to man.

"At the same time, we affirm that it is appropriate to speak of law and gospel as having a redemptive and historical thrust, with the time of the law being the old covenant era and the time of the gospel being the time when we enter our maturity as God’s people."

This is true, on the broad level. "Law" is often used to denote the Mosaic economy, and "gospel" the New Covenant epoch. But what I've yet to see a Federal Visionist appreciate is the distinction in our tradition between law narrowly considered and law broadly considered. Though the gospel was operative during the time of the law, Paul extrapolates from Moses a narrow principle, "do this and live," that is antithetical to the gospel when considered as the means through which the eternal inheritance is secured.

"We deny that law and gospel should be considered as a hermeneutics, or treated as such."

If our friends are saying what I think they're saying (that we oughtn't force every passage into one of these two categories), then I add a hearty "Amen."

"We believe that any passage, whether indicative or imperative, can be heard by the faithful as good news, and that any passage, whether containing gospel promises or not, will be heard by the rebellious as intolerable demand. The fundamental division is not in the text, but rather in the human heart."

This I have difficulties with. Our brothers seem to be denying that there is any objective force to God's speech, but that all divine utterance is contingent upon the listener's response. But the mixed nature of God's audience notwithstanding, law is still law and gospel is still gospel. So when God offers his heavenly reward upon condition of personal obedience, that is not gospel. Likewise, when God freely offers life and salvation through faith in Jesus Christ, that is not law.

So this portion of the Joint Statement, though it has its good points, ultimately fails to reflect what I see as the historic Reformed consensus.

The Federal Vision and Union and Imputation

The Statement of the Federal Visionists says concerning "Union With Christ and Imputation":

"We affirm not only that Christ is our full obedience, but also that through our union with Him we partake of the benefits of His death, burial, resurrection, ascension, and enthronement at the right hand of God the Father. We deny that faithfulness to the gospel message requires any particular doctrinal formulation of the 'imputation of the active obedience of Christ.' What matters is that we confess that our salvation is all of Christ, and not from us."

A few thoughts:

This paragraph (not quoted in full here) is not too bad, as far as it goes. But I do think that "what matters" is more than "confessing that our salvation is all of Christ, and not from us" (a confession any Mormon would happily, albeit erroneously, make).

But I am curious as to what our FV friends fear about the language of active obedience. Does not the Westminster Confession repeatedly speak of "the full obedience and satisfaction of Christ" being imputed to us by faith (and not, by the way, "through our union with him")?

Does not the Heidelberg Catechism Q/A 60 teach us that "God... grants and imputes to me, the perfect satisfaction, righteousness and holiness of Christ; even so, as if I... had fully accomplished all that obedience which Christ has accomplished for me; inasmuch as I embrace such benefit with a believing heart"?

(Please note that the righteousness of Christ is something granted, not just reckoned, to us.)

And finally, if the union according to which the Joint Statament says we receive the blessings listed is not the "real and inseparable" union of the Westminster Standards (you know, the one that is a "special benefit" for "true believers" who are "elect members of the invisible church"), but is rather a covenantal union that may turn out to be temporary and fleeting, then what is true of the union becomes true of the assurance we are supposed to derive from it:

It becomes just as temporary, and just as fleeting.

The Federal Vision and the Covenant of Life

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like he did for Jesus.

The Federal Vision and the Proclamation of the Word

Another section in the Federal Vision's Joint Statement concerns "The Proclamation of the Word," in which the authors write:

"We deny... that translations [of biblical language into 'philosophical' or 'scholastic' language] are superior to or equal to the rhetoric employed by the Spirit in the text, and we believe that the employment of such hyper-specialized terminology in the regular teaching and preaching of the Church has the unfortunate effect of confusing the saints and of estranging them from contact with the biblical use of the same language. For this reason we reject the tendency to privilege the confessional and/or scholastic use of words and phrases over the way the same words and phrases are used in the Bible itself."

If there ever were a rejection of the need for systematic theology, this is it.

Here is my question: If Paul teaches that we are justified "apart from works," while James insists that Abraham was "justified by works," which is more "confusing": (1) Seeking to understand what these two authors meant by "justify" while denying that they simply contradict one another, the result being that what James had in mind was something more akin to vindication (Abraham's sacrifice of Isaac, after all, happened some twenty years after he was accounted righteous), or (2) Refusing to capitulate to "scholastic, confessional categories" by biting the bullet and insisting, as Leithart does, that saints are justified by works "in whatever sense James meant it"?

I'm all for retaining biblical categories, but what the Federal Visionists seem to miss is the fact that various biblical authors use identical terms to denote different phenomena.

Pointing this out helps alleviate confusion, while refusing to do so under the guise of protecting us from "scholasticism" only perpetuates it.

On Neutrality and Commonness

I promise I'll move on eventually, but for now, I just can't let this issue go....

The section on Christendom in the Joint Statement on the Federal Vision states:

"We deny that neutrality is possible in any realm, and this includes the realm of 'secular' politics. We believe that the lordship of Jesus Christ has authoritative ramifications for every aspect of human existence, and that growth up into a godly maturity requires us to discover what those ramifications are in order to implement them."

I'm guessing by "neutrality" the authors have in mind some arrangement that seals off certain aspects of society from any and all divine jurisdiction or influence. To my knowledge, no one believes this (except maybe some eighteenth-century deists I've never met), so I'm not sure who, exactly, our brothers are arguing against here.

On the other hand, there are certain cultural questions that are "common" (though not "neutral"), and are to be tackled by those whose citizenship in the kingdom of man and whose creation in the image of God entitle them to join in the conversation. And yes, this includes Christians and non-Christians.

The problem with denying this -- if that is indeed what the Joint Statement is doing -- is that it places "every square inch" of the civil kingdom under the jurisdiction not just of God as Creator, but of Scripture, of the gospel, and of Christ as Redeemer.

The result of this, in addition to watering down Sola Scriptura to the point of meaninglesness, is a "baptized" version of politics with God's trademark stamped on the brochure. But what if this "Christian worldview" fails to capture the concerns of those sincere believers who don't think that GOP stands for "God's Own Politics"?

What of those believers who are against the present war? What of those who think the free market is a sham? And what of those who simply want to keep their religion free from the partisan bickering that characterizes the culture wars?

Apparently, they won't find refuge in Moscow, ID.

The Federal Vision and Global Christendom

The third affirmation/denial of the Federal Vision's Joint Statement reads, in part:

"We affirm that the Christian faith is a public faith, encompassing every realm of human endeavor. The fulfillment of the Great Commission therefore requires the establishment of a global Christendom. We deny that neutrality is possible in any realm, and this includes the realm of 'secular' politics. We believe that the lordship of Jesus Christ has authoritative ramifications for every aspect of human existence, and that growth up into a godly maturity requires us to discover what those ramifications are in order to implement them."

It's late, so I'll offer a few thoughts and we'll further the discussion in the comments section.

1. If Christianity is such a "public faith," why the instruction by Jesus to perform our acts of devotion and mercy privately, to the point that the works of the right hand are not even known by the left?

2. If the Great Commision is a charge to strive for "global Christendom," then why didn't Paul or Peter issue this clarion call when they specifically addressed the role of the believer in society (Rom. 13; I Pet. 2)? "Living a quiet life" and "minding our own business" is hardly the stuff of societal transformation.

3. Is the denial of "neutrality" also a denial of "common" endeavors? If there's a specifically Christian position on, say, economics or health care, I've not found it in the Bible.

What I find ironic in much of the transformationist rhetoric is that, to me at least, it always seems like it's those people's culture over there that needs redeeming (black culture, for example), but not our own. So for the sake of argument I'll agree, the ghetto could do with less drugs and crime, but is it not also true that the suburbs of Atlanta would be more "redeemed" if there were no shopping malls, or that Fallujah would have seemed more "heavenly" if hundreds of its civilian women and children hadn't been killed?

Or is the concern for America's greed and Iraq's dead not the right kind of sanctified politics?

The Federal Vision and Postmillennialism

My first impression upon reading the Joint Federal Vision Statement was one of surprise that, of the 18 loci addressed, postmillennialism is listed so early in the document (second only to "The Triune God"). Not that I desire to commit the ordo docendi, ordo credendi fallacy (i.e., that the order in which something is taught determines the order of its importance), but I do find this interesting.

The argument of the Joint Statement, in a nutshell, is that (1) If Jesus is the Savior of "the world," (2) If "all nations" will come to him, and (3) If the content of the Abrahamic promise is that "all the nations of the world would be blessed, and that his descendants would be like the stars in number," that therefore "prior to the second coming of our Lord Jesus, the earth will be as full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea."

Concerning the final day, the last sentence of our Confession says that Jesus "will have that day unknown to men, that they may shake off all carnal security, and be always watchful, because they know not at what hour the Lord will come; and may be ever prepared to say, 'Come Lord Jesus, come quickly.' Amen."

It seems to me that the arguments put forward by the Federal Visionists to prove the Christianization of the world are similar to those used by Arminians to insist that Jesus atoned for the sins of every single person. The Calvinist response, of course, is that when the Scripture says that Christ died for "all men," it means that he died for all without distinction, not all without exception. The same response can be offered here.

So in addition to the fact that our Standards neither hint at, nor seem to make room for, a Christianization of the world before the (supposedly) imminent return of our Lord, the postmillennial position seems to rest upon a woodenly-literal hermeneutic.

Yes, "all nations" will come to Christ, but in accord with the Joint Statement's insistence upon Scripture interpreting Scripture, the twenty-four elders in Revelation explain this by saying that the Lamb "has redeemed men to God from every kindred, tongue, people, and nation."

A New Statement by the Federal Visionists

As you may be aware, a handful of proponents of the Federal Vision have issued a statement clarifying their views on topics such as the triune God, postmillennialism, Christendom, Scripture, the Church, and imputation.

I hope to interact with this new document (though I'll not tackle all the topics), perhaps beginning later today.

We must all do our best to give these men the benefit of the doubt (they do, after all, express a spirit of humility and teachableness in their preface). I will try to set the precedent by avoiding the sarcasm and snarkiness that often characterizes both sides of this ongoing debate.

Stay tuned....

Righteousness, Extraordinarily Considered

Having described what he calls "ordinary righteousness" (i.e., righteousness attained by obeying the covenant of works), Westerholm goes on to argue that human sin and inability to obey God's commands neccessitates that righteousness be attained in an extraordinary way: Through faith in Christ (Perspectives Old and New on Paul, pp. 273 – 84).

A comparison of Romans 2:13 and 5:9 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 5:9, 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 ."

The basis for this extraordinary righteousness is the death of Christ (Rom. 3:24-26), without which it would be unjust for God to justify the wicked (Ex. 23:7). In fact, in order for God to justify in this extraordinary way, he must demonstrate his own righteousness in doing so (Rom. 3:26). This is not the case with "ordinary righteousness" (such as in 2:13, where justification is to be expected).

Moreover, extraordinary righteousness is called a "free gift of righteousness" and "justification by faith" (Rom. 5:17; 3:28), the "works" apart from which extraordinary righteousness is received being acts of moral goodness. The blessedness of being counted righteous "apart from works" consists in having one's lawless deeds forgiven, having one's sins covered, and not having one's sin counted against him (Rom. 4:4-8). And finally, the phenomenon of justified by faith is the divine response to the crisis brought about by man's sin (Rom. 1:18ff).

"When the ones justified are sinners, their righteousness cannot be the 'normal' one based on God's recognition of their deeds as appropriate (righteous). Lacking such deeds themselves, they must 'receive' righteousness 'freely' (3:24), 'without works' (4:2, 5, 6), as a 'gift' (5:17) – none of which can be said of those recognized as righteous because they are doers of the law. The contrast between the righteousness of the law and that of faith amounts to that between the righteousness of those who do the good spelled out in the law and that of sinners" (p. 281, emphasis original).

Though this point falls outside Westerholm's purview, it seems clear that the Federal Vision's most glaring fault is its unwillingness to distinguish between ordinary and extraordinary righteousness (or if you prefer, between the law and the gospel).

Covenant Theology Lectures Online

Though I'm on vacation and without internet access most of the time, this will change by the weekend. In the meantime, however, I thought I'd point out that my recent lectures on covenant theology are available online here. I'm hoping that the fourth lecture dealing with the PCA's nine declarations will be up soon as well.

Righteousness, Ordinarily Considered

Any discussion of the gospel must address the issue of righteousness. "Ordinary righteousness," argues Stephen Westerholm, is a moral concept referring to what one has as a result of doing the good that the law requires (see his Perspectives Old and New on Paul, 263-73).

Paul contrasts righteousness with sin and its synonyms, indicating that the term, ordinarily considered, is moral before it is covenantal (Rom. 3:9, 10; 5:7-8; 6:18-19). Those, therefore, who will be deemed righteous (i.e., justified) at the final judgment will be those who have done righteousness (Rom. 2:6, 13).

Westerholm argues that to be deemed righteous is to be recognized as one who has done the good; moreover, if the doers of the law are also doers of the good, Paul must believe that the law spells out the goodness required by God. "Thus the immediate context of 2:13," he writes, "provides confirmation for the (nonrevolutionary) conclusion… that the law is understood to prescribe what people ought to do, and those who behave accordingly are righteous" (pp. 268-69). He concludes:

"In their ordinary sense the various 'dikaios' [righteous] words belong to Paul's basic moral vocabulary. Righteousness is what one ought to do and what one has if he has done it.... One is righteous when one does righteousness—when, in other words, one lives as one ought and does what one should. To be justified is, in effect, to be given the treatment appropriate to one who is just and righteous; in a legal context it means to be declared innocent of wrongdoing, or acquitted" (pp. 272-73).

Thoughts?

An Old Perspective on Romans 2:13

I'm becoming weary of hearing Romans 2:13 cited as a "prooftext" to defend Paul's alleged doctrine of justification by works (an allegation cited, but rarely argued for or proven).

The verse reads, "For it is not the hearers of the law who are righteous before God, but the doers of the law who will be justified."

The issue Paul is dealing with here is the glee on the part of his Jewish readers at his wholesale condemnation of the entire Gentile world (1:18-32). He begins the second chapter, therefore, by castigating those who "call themselves Jews" and are "instructed by the law" but have "sinned under the law," arguing that "every one of you who judges" will be "condemned" and will not "escape the judgment of God," for they were "storing up wrath for [themselves] on the day of wrath" (2:1, 3, 5, 12, 17).

Clearly, Paul is holding up to the Jews the mirror of the law for the purpose of demonstrating that they, no less than the Gentiles, are "in Adam" and, if they remain in this condition, must keep the law if they expect to secure God's heavenly inheritance.

This is not good news, since "both Jews and Greeks are under sin," the law serving to "stop every mouth." "The works of the law," Paul concludes (using "works of the law" and "the law" interchangably), cannot "justify," but only render all men "accountable to God" and "knowlegable of sin" (3:9, 19-20).

The gospel, on the other hand (there's that "Lutheran" law/gospel contrast again), manifests "a righteousness of God apart from the law... through faith in Jesus Christ" (3:21-22). His grand conclusion is that "boasting" is "excluded," not by the "law [or principle] of works," but by the "law [or principle] of faith" (3:27).

I'll bring out some additional implications of this pericope in subsequent posts, but for now, suffice it to say that citing Pauline precedent for the semi-Pelagian doctrine of justification by faith-plus-obedience belongs neither in the PCA, nor in Protestantism for that matter.

Suspicious Threads, Suspicious Cloth

Let's set the confessional record straight, shall we?

Yes, Reformed theology affirms a duplex beneficium (double benefit) in Christ's work: justification and sanctification. Yes, Reformed theology has traditionally distinguished between justification and salvation, affirming the necessity of works for the latter, but never for the former. Yes, Reformed theology teaches that there will be a judgment according to works on the last day, on which all people will be judged according to the deeds done in the body, whether good or evil.

But despite Herculean efforts by our brothers in the Federal Vision camp, the fact is undeniable that any formulation of justification that imports works into the equation cannot claim confessional precedent or authority.

But as I have argued in the comments of the preceding thread, it is not merely the Federal Vision's emphasis upon works that has occasioned such resistance from Reformed confessionalists, it is the weaving together of various questionable doctrines into a suspicious cloth that causes us such concern. For example, when we hear that:

1. Election is, in some sense, a covenantal and loseable privilege;

2. The covenant of works was gracious, thus conflating law and gospel;

3. Baptism unites the recipient with Christ and confers such saving benefits as union with Christ and, in some sense, regeneration;

4. Union with Christ is only as secure as the believer's ongoing covenant faithfulness;

5. Justification is presently declared upon one basis (faith), while its final declaration will be additionally based upon works;

6. The distinction between the visible and invisible church should be viewed with suspicion;

... the only conclusion that we can reach is that those who affirm such views have surrendered any claim to be within the pale of traditional Reformed orthodoxy. It is time, therefore, to recognize the Federal Vision to be the fringe movement that it is, and to place the burden of proof on these brethren to demonstrate their adherence to Reformed theology as we have confessed it for 500 years.

Declaration #9: Justification and Works

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

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

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

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

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

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

Declaration #8: Perseverance

"The view that some can receive saving benefits of Christ's mediation, such as regeneration and justification, and yet not persevere in those benefits is contrary to the Westminster Standards." So reads the eighth declaration of the PCA's Report on the Federal Vision.

This one's a toughie, especially in the light of passages like Heb. 6:4-6 which list repentance, enlightenment, tasting of the heavenly gift, sharing in the Holy Spirit, and experiencing the power of the age to come as among those blessings that may be a part of the experience of a believer who ends up an apostate.

How do we deal with this? Do we insist that these blessings are common rather than saving, or do we suck it up, admit that they're saving, and resign ourselves to the fact that true believers can be ultimately lost?

Of all the views I've come across, R. Fowler White's is the most intriguing. He argues that these are indeed saving blessings predicated upon apostates, but that these "benefits of Christ's mediation" are attributed to them not because the writer has secret knowledge of God's eternal decree, but because such blessings must be attributed to all within the covenant, even though one's profession may be a false one (something only God knows). He writes:

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

Unlike the Federal Visionists, who insist that if these blessings are attributed to an entire church then each and every member must have each and every one, White is arguing that one's covenant membership entitles him to the benefit of the doubt, even if the one to whom such saving blessings are attributed is, from the standpoint of the divine decree, a reprobate.

Thus, we can affirm with our forefathers in the faith that "True believers, by reason of the unchangeable love of God, and his decree and covenant to give them perseverance, [and] their inseparable union with Christ... can neither totally nor finally fall away from the state of grace, but are kept by the power of God through faith unto salvation (WLC 79)."

Declaration #7: Union and Salvation

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

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

The Westminster Standards, on the other hand, teach that union with Christ is a "special benefit" enjoyed by the "members of the invisible church." Further, by this union "the elect... are spiritually and mystically, yet really and inseparably" joined with Christ (WLC 65-66). The "inseparable" nature of this union precludes "true believers" from "totally or finally falling away from a state of grace" (WLC 79). Finally, the various benefits of Christ's mediation, such as "justification, adoption, and sanctification," are given to "the members of the invisible church" as "manifestations of their union with him."

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

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

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

Declaration #6: The Benefits of Baptism

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Declaration #5: Union and Imputation

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

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

So once again, to the Standards....

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

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

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

Declaration #4: Merit

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

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

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

To the Standards, shall we?

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

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

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

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

Declaration #3: Imputation

The PCA Federal Vision Report's third declaration states:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Declaration #2: Election

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Declaration #1: Monocovenantalism

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thoughts?

Covenant and Theology Proper

"How the covenant theme pertains to the doctrine of God, 'theology proper,'" writes David VanDrunen, "is perhaps not as obvious [as the relationship of covenant to other loci]."

He begins by warning the reader against a lack of caution when "venturing to speak of God's inner life and Trinitarian essence." Instead, he argues, we should begin with the pactum salutis, the "covenant of redemption." This intra-Trinitarian arrangement by which the three Persons of the Godhead agreed together to bring about the redemption of fallen sinners, "thrusts before us the portarait of eternal, intratrinitarian divine counsel transpiring covenantally." In this counsel, "the Trinitarian Persons manifest the very attributes that demand central attention in the doctrine of God: wisdom, power, holiness, justice, goodness, and truth."

Furthermore, the covenantal nature of this inner Trinitarian life is shown in Jesus' statement that the believer's relationship with the Father is analogous to his own (John 17:21). "If covenant governs the ectype, how much more the archtype?"

Obviously, VanDrunen is not calling for a complete recasting of theology proper and christology in terms solely covenantal (which should alleviate some of your suspicion). Rather, he simply seems to be arguing that the doctrine of covenant provides a touchstone, a starting point from which these loci should be considered (a safer one than mere speculative attempts to penetrate the hiddenness of the divine nature).

And remember, those of you who think I'm overly dismissive of systematic theology: The entire context of VanDrunen's discussion is his larger argument that the Westminster Seminaries have never really done systematics at all. So contra Murray, Strimple, and Gaffin, he is issuing a call to do more than simply exegete relevant Bible passages.

If we call it "systematic," then let's have a system, for crying out loud....

Covenantal Prolegomenon

"The doctrine of the covenants," writes David VanDrunen, "can itself unite the various strands of theology into a unified, coherent, and harmonious whole." The Bible, after all, is more than an ecclectic and hasily-thrown-together gaggle of battle accounts, prophecies, parables, and personal letters. It is the story of the creation, fall, redemption, and consummation of all things, the playwright and director of which is God, and the lead character in which is his Son.

So let's unpack this idea that "all of the basic realms that systematic theology investigates are defined in covenantal terms," shall we?

VanDrunen begins with Prolegomenon, which is basically a fancy codeword for our method of doing theology, the various tools we need in order to begin our task. Building upon Michael Horton's work, VanDrunen argues that we should allow the Bible itself to provide us with our theological and hermeneutical method, rather than our bringing our own preferred method to the table.

A "covenantal prolegomenon," therefore, would begin with the biblical insistence, echoed in WFC vii.1, that the relationship between the Creator and his creatures occurs through a "voluntary condescension on God's part, which he hath been pleased to express by way of covenant." In other words, we do not relate to God in a purely individual capacity, but collectively and covenantally.

As passages like Jeremiah 31:35-36, 33:20-26, Psalm 19, and Romans 1 demonstrate, "Man's first contact with nature, both that within and outside of himself, confronts him with the powerful Deity who is none other than covenant Lord.... In this light," VanDrunen concludes, "prolegomenon is thoroughly covenantal."

So what think ye? A worthwhile project? A stretch?

Westminster Systematics: An Oxymoron?

In his essay entitled "A System of Theology? The Centrality of Covenant for Westminster Systematics," Westminster Seminary California's Associate Professor of Systematic Theology David VanDrunen begins with "the provocative question of whether the Westminster Seminaries have ever actually done systematic theology." He argues that Murray, Gaffin, and Strimple were actually exegetes, not systematicians, "perform[ing] their 'systematics' task by exegeting passages related to various topics under consideration, [while remaining] relatively uninterested in developing a system as such" (see The Pattern of Sound Doctrine, p. 195-220).

Toward developing such a system, VanDrunen suggests that "the Reformed doctrine of the covenants [is] the place where a system of theology can be centered and from which it can emerge in orderly coherence and biblical fidelity" (p. 196).

Before outlining what this might look like, a few caveats are offered. First, since all theology arises from Scripture, "the rigorous exegesis that has marked the tradition must be sacrosanct." Further, Vos's appreciation for a redemptive-historical hermeneutic must be maintained, with biblical theology functioning as a servant of systematics. VanDrunen's final concern is to not allow a system to be forced upon Scripture as a straitjacket that controls exegesis and stifles God's Word.

As long as systematics' various loci are arranged around a single doctrine (justification for Lutherans, predestination for hyper-Calvinists), these dangers are not likely to be avoided. But if the Scripture itself provides "a way of expressing the unity and coherence of the whole of Reformed doctrine, an architectonic structure that undergirds all of the various threads of revealed truth," then we can begin taking steps in the right direction.

This idea that "centers" the system while not being "the center" of it, is the doctrine of the covenants. In subsequent posts I plan to flesh this out with the good professor's help. Stay tuned....

Forest and Trees, Parts and the Whole

Our discussion concerning the role and authority of confessions leads us, quite naturally, into the somewhat murky relationship of systematic- to biblical theology. The former focuses on revelation as a whole and has been likened to a road map, whereas the latter focuses on the unfolding of God's redemptive plan, and has been described as a topographical map. In the former the dots are connected, while the latter displays the hills, valleys, and plot twists of the divine drama.

Systematic theology has traditionally been dubbed "the queen of the biblical sciences," and without a doubt, we ignore it at tremendous cost to our faith (which, I would argue, is happening in so-called Federal Vision circles as we speak). But at the same time, when Scripture becomes a "cul-de-sac of isolated proof-texts" to reinforce our dogmatic assumptions, we have fallen off the tightrope in the opposite direction.

"In both biblical theology and systematic theology," writes Michael Horton, "the dialectic of whole and parts, never resting on one or the other, is always generating greater refinement as well as scope" (Covenant and Eschatology, 240). In fact, a handful of professors at Westminster Seminary California are advocating a reintegration of these two disciplines under the rubric of covenant (an idea I plan to explore in subsequent posts).

When the eschatological subcurrent of Scripture is appreciated, doing theology becomes less clinical and abstract, and theology is approached the way one would approach a person rather than a subject under a microscope.

"[Biblical theology] is not theology from a 'God's-eye' perspective, but from down on the ground, where one is never quite sure what looms over the horizon of the next mountain range until one arrives there. To be sure, there are directions, prophetic anticipations of what one will find, but the fulfillment always surpasses expectations" (Ibid., 241).

Jesus Christ, the focus of Holy Writ, is not a "timeless idea" but a Person. But how do we study God's revelation of him while avoiding dogmatism on the one hand, and biblicism on the other?

We're One, But We're Not the Same

Ecumenical calls for visible, institutional unity among believers have led to everything from the establishment of the World Council of Churches to the more modest appeals for Reformation churches to stop sniping at one another over the alleged "logical consequences" of their respective theologies.

Is it disingenuous for Reformed churches to simultaneously speak of unity while holding to confessions whose doctrinal lines serve as high, barbed-wired walls that keep out those whose soteriology cannot pass muster?

I don't think so....

As one commenter on the previous thread has pointed out, it is, ironically, the confessionalist who does a better job of maintaining at least a grassroots—though not institutional—unity among those in other traditions. It makes sense if you think about it: The pietists' emphasis upon the invisible aspect of God's church necessarily results in a very ambiguous test to determine who is "really saved" and who is just going through the motions (i.e., Presbyterian). If God has touched your heart, if you've been baptized with the Spirit, or if you're abiding in Christ through personal morning quiet times, you're probably in. If not, it may be time to rededicate.

By stressing the visible rather than the hidden and invisible aspect of the church, the Reformed confessionalist can foster a kind of unity with people from other communions (be they Lutheran, Anglican, or even Roman Catholic) which does not hinge upon burnings in the bosom, but upon something we can actually observe, i.e., the credible profession of one's faith in Jesus.

Sure, it's grassroots rather than institutional unity, but could it be that this is what the New Testament is calling us to in the first place?

Unity and Uniformity

It seems to me that in order for there to be true unity in a community or church, there must be a variety of opinions represented. Unity, after all, is not the same as uniformity, neither is oneness simply sameness. The result of removing the option to differ may be called unity in some circles, though I prefer the label totalitarianism. "We're one," sings the Irish prophet, "but we're not the same."

This does invite the question, however, of just where the border lies which, if transgressed, places one outside the community's pale. Or to couch the question in ecclesiological terms, how much semper reformanda can a church do and still remain reformata? Can a church reform itself to the point where it is no longer recognizably Reformed?

There is a discernable tension here, especially for those, like me, who desire both to remain confessional and non-biblicist, but whose consciences are bound to the Word and to faithful exegesis of it.

There are a few options that I can identify to alleviate this tension: 1). We can simply trust the exegetical conclusions of those who drafted our confessional documents; 2). We can abandon their conclusions in favor of our own; 3). We can advocate a confession that limits itself to those doctrines that are indispensible to the Reformed system of doctrine, while remaining silent on issues more peripheral. If the second option is properly labeled biblicism, then the first could be called traditionalism.

But if we opt for solution #3, where do we even begin?

Some Final Thoughts on Subscription....

I'll offer a few final thoughts on confessional subscription for your consideration and comments:

1. Strict subscription is the best way to preserve a denomination's doctrinal integrity, but in order for it to be a realistic option, the confession subscribed to must be restricted to those doctrines that are essential to the denomination's theological system. If the length of the creation days are essential to such a system, for example, then let the confession reflect this. If not, then don't mention it.

2. A confession that is sufficiently vague about peripheral issues will allow for theological development and fresh exegesis without posing a threat to the denomonation's doctrinal standards. So if a ministerial candidate's view of the law, for instance, reflects the developments of biblical theology introduced by men like Vos and Ridderbos, he won't need to do the confessional gymnastics necessary to prove he is within the pale.

3. To maintain our catholicity with the broader Christian church, it seems more consistent to adopt the Apostles', Nicene, and Athanasian creeds, rather than to restate their doctrines in our own confessional documents.

4. Candidates for church membership should be expected to subscribe to the ecumenical creeds, but only officers should be expected to subscribe to doctrines that are not essential for salvation.

OK, fire away....

Coffin on the Logic of Confessional Subscription

In his The Justification of Confessions and the Logic of Confessional Subscription, David F. Coffin, Jr. argues that "... the justification for having a confession ought logically to determine the manner of subscription to that confession." In his estimation, a denomination's adopting the Westminster Confession and Catechisms is fine and dandy, but when exceptions to core doctrines and approval to teach these exceptions are allowed, this "clearly undermines the very rationale of having a confession in the first place."

In Coffin's view (and this is key), "the debate about subscription is really a conflict about which articles ought to be subscribed to, not the strictness or looseness of the subscription." His conclusion follows as a matter of course: "If the PCA could agree on what I take to be a sound view of subscription, I, for one, would be amenable to discussing what elements in our Confession must be removed in order for the PCA to find in that Confession a real expression of our articles of unity."

I don't know about you, but whenever we examine candidates for the gospel ministry, and those candidates take the usual, unchallenged exceptions (i.e., to recreation on the Sabbath or to God's creation of all things "in the space of six days"), I often wonder, "If those statements are incidental to the 'essentials of the Reformed system,' why not just take them out?"

Echoing Coffin, if the PCA could agree on what comprises the elusive and mysterious "Confession within the Confession" (which would naturally eliminate those propositions not essential to its "system of doctrine"), then would not the demand for strict subscription finally make sense?

But as long as the majority of our presbyteries deem exceptions to the number of creation days, recreation on the Sabbath, the language of "works" in the prelapsarian covenant, and the requirement for covenant children to examine themselves before coming to the Lord's Table as not only incidental and acceptable, but also teachable to our congregations, the call for strict subscription will leave the PCA with approximately eleven ordained ministers.

(Not counting the faculty of Greenville Seminary, of course.)

Fesko on Old School Subscription

In his article entitled The Legacy of Old School Confession Subscription in the OPC (JETS 46/4 [December 2003]), J.V. Fesko challenges the strict subscriptionist's claim that theirs was the historic practice within Old School Presbyterianism, a practice crucial in stemming the system subscription of the New School which inevitably paves the way for theological liberalism.

Fesko's thesis, however, is not intended to endorse New School subscription, but to challenge the common version of strict subscription that masquerades as "the historical Presbyterian position" in contemporary Reformed churches.

Citing Hodge's and Warfield's belief in theistic evolution, Thornwell's rejection of 24-hour creation days, Machen's allowing OPC ministers to hold an eschatological view which he considered "opposed" to the Westminster Standards (i.e., premillennialism), and Murray's complete re-casting of traditonal covenant theology and rejection of the covenant of works, Fesko argues that historic Old School subscription "is conservative, in that it requires the adoption of every article and doctrine, yet it is liberal in that it does not require the adoption of every proposition."

In a word, contemporary strict subscriptionists are correct in their historical claim, but mistaken in how they implement it.

"... Officers must subscribe to the Standards because (quia) they contain the doctrines of Scripture as understood by the Church, but they can bind the consciences only in so far as (quatenus) its propositions accord with the teaching of Scripture."

I can't tell if I really like this, or if it is mere doublespeak. But either way, Pipa can't be happy....

Chapell on Good-Faith Subscription

When a candidate for gospel ministry is examined on the floor of presbytery, Bryan Chapell argues,

"... he should in good faith declare his lack of accord with any proposition in our Confessional standards.... A presbytery should exercise its right to determine its membership by judging whether any declared difference with our standards is an exception, and whether the presbytery will allow or in any way limit the teaching of that exception" (Perspective on the Subscription Standards of the Presbyterian Church in America).

"In my heart," he continues later, "this protection of the sacred status of Scripture alone is the core issue, not whether we have a strict- or full-, good-faith- or system-subscription standard."

While I think Chapell makes some good points (especially given the highly-detailed nature of the Westminster Standards), he does seem rather idealistic at the end of his paper where he appeals to the expectation that, as long as we are "entranced with the message of grace" and "enchained to the Spirit's vision," we will love one another enough that our doctrinal difference will increasingly fade away.

First: Is enchained a word? And second: Really?

Is it a realistic expectation that all of the presbyteries in our denomination will suddenly see eye-to-eye once they begin loving one another more? Was that the fault of the many Protestant mainline bodies that are currently ordaining homosexuals to the ministry? Sheesh, if you ask me, maybe they're loving each a little too much.

If strict subscription betrays an over-realized eschatology as was recently alleged, what does that say of Chapell's view?

Pipa on Full Subscription

Joseph A. Pipa, in his The Practice of Subscription, argues that "full subscription is the historical position of Scottish and American Presbyterianism," and that "system subscription has invariably led to liberalism and subjectivism in the church. In other words, system subscription is in effect no subscription."

Makes sense, right?

Why bother to adopt the Westminster Confession and Catechisms as the doctrinal standards of a denomination if candidates for gospel ministry can simply pick and choose which parts to believe and which to deny (with presbyteries determining whether the exception is "essential to the system")?

But then again, the Westminster Standards are pretty detailed, making it rather difficult to be able to affirm every single one of their propositions. Plus, there has been some significant theological advancement since the confessional canon (supposedly) closed in 1648.

Hmmm....

Is full subscription really as simple and beneficial an idea as it sounds? Is there some sense in which the nature of a particular confession should determine the nature of our subscription to it?

What say you?

On Confessional Subscription

As I have been arguing, there is "a wide gulf fixed" between the Reformed doctrine of Sola Scriptura on the one hand, and the evangelical insistence upon Solo Scriptura on the other. The former locates the revelation of God in the Bible alone, and then recognizes that Bible as the church’s Book to interpret with a secondary and derivative authority. The latter also recognizes the Scripture as the sole source of divine revelation, but then dismisses as legalistic any attempts at authoritative interpretation (except those that result from the still small voice of God to the autonomous individual).

In a word, the Reformed believer seeks to understand Scripture in community with the cloud of witnesses that has gone before us, while the evangelical often sees the church's prior creeds and confessions as dusty old threats to the fresh revelations of the Holy Spirit (for being "the shy member" of the Godhead, he sure seems to have a lot to say these days).

This brings up an interesting conundrum for the Reformed confessionalist, however. What does it mean to "subscribe" to a confession, creed, or catechism? Must every jot and tittle be affirmed, or only the parts that are "essential to the system"? If the former, how much detail (or lack thereof) should our doctrinal standards contain? If the latter, who gets to decide what is included in this "confession within the confession"?

Personally, I have never been satisfied with my own position on this issue, so I hope that my mind gets at least a little closer to being made up throughout this discussion.

Opine away….

Rome Vs. Wheaton, Round Three: Scripture

Francis Beckwith, in discussing with Christianity Today his recent return to the Roman Catholic Church of his youth, highlighted the relationship of the church to Scripture. The former president of the Evangelical Theological Society remarked:

"At some point, there has to be some connection between the church and its role and the phenomenon of Scripture.... In a weird way, there's an assumption [within evangelicalism] that all authority is authoritarian. I deny that assumption. I think that the church was given the authority to make these judgments, and that the Holy Spirit allowed them to make those judgments.... So [the Bible’s canonicity and the church’s authority to interpret Scripture] are not inconsistent with each other."

Keith Mathison, in a recent article in Modern Reformation, very helpfully pointed out that what often masquerades as "the Protestant view" of the Bible’s authority is actually a distortion of the Reformation position. The latter has been called Sola Scriptura ("Scripture Alone"), while the view more common in evangelicalism has been dubbed Solo Scriptura ("Just me and my Bible").

While the confessional Reformed position argues that Scripture is the church's only source of divine revelation, it also maintains that the Bible is the church's Book, and her interpretations—expressed via creed, confession, or catechism—do carry a secondary kind of authority that should not be trumped by fresh revelations, divine whisperings, or still, small voices.

As expected, the classical Protestant position is a tertium quid (a third thing) in distinction from both evangelicalism and Roman Catholicism. But when the debate excludes Geneva and leaves us to decide between Wheaton and Rome, we may still disagree with Dr. Beckwith’s decision, but can we blame him?

Rome Vs. Wheaton, Round Two: Tradition

"Evangelicals kid themselves," insists former Evangelical Theological Society president and recently re-converted Roman Catholic Francis Beckwith,

"when they believe that they can re-invent the wheel with every generation, that you have to produce another spate of systematic theology textbooks to teach people the stuff that has already been articulated for generations."

Instead, "The way that we read Scripture is through the ideas and concepts that have been passed down to us by a great tradition." The average believer, he concludes, would never simply sit down with the Bible and come up with the mature and well-developed Christology of the Nicene Creed (a Christology the reformers themselves took for granted).

This is certainly a valid criticism, especially for those, like me, who grew up thinking that after the apostle John died there was nothing but rampant apostasy until the Jesus Movement began in 1965 (it is so typical of moderns and post-moderns to insist that their generation is unique among all those that have lived on the earth).

As I pointed out in my last post, if evangelicalism can no longer claim to trumpet a doctrine of justification that differs significantly from that of Roman Catholicism, and if the former's latent distrust of the wisdom and tradition of its forefathers necessitates reinventing the theological wheel every twenty years or so, then its appeal is lost, it seems, amid all the confusion and hassle.

The issue here is not the Bible vs. tradition, but whether we read that Bible in conjunction with, or in isolation from, those who have gone before us. By adding to its confusion of law and gospel the burden of its generational snobbery, evangelicalism will continue to fail to make a compelling case for retaining the high-profile intellectuals it values so highly.

Rome Vs. Wheaton, Round One: Justification

To begin our consideration of Francis Beckwith's jettisoning of evangelicalism for Rome, we'll start with the first issue he raised in his interview in Christianity Today. He says:

"The issue of justification was key for me.... As an evangelical, even when I talked about sanctification and wanted to practice it, it seemed as if I didn't have a good enough incentive to do so. Now there's a kind of theological framework, and it doesn't say my salvation depends on me, but it says my virtue counts for something."

If evangelicalism ever had a chief architect, John Wesley would be at the top of the list. His famous rationale for holy living ("fear of punishment and hope of reward") is admittedly a factor, but "a good enough incentive" it certainly is not. Without gratitude, and a healthy grasp of the grace which occasions it, any and all motives for godliness are surely selfish and lacking the necessary dynamic to keep the wind in our sails.

Now if, in the mind of the former president of the Evangelical Theological Society, Roman Catholicism provides a better incentive for holy living than evangelicalism's fear of punishment and hope of reward, what does that say about the latter's view of grace? At the very least it would indicate that, despite the anti-Roman rhetoric and all the "Solas" it can muster, contemporary evangelicalism is a far cry from that which Trent anathematized thirty years after Luther nailed his theses on the castle door at Wittenberg.

Of course, I don't think either Rome or Wheaton provide a decent rationale for holiness. So if both get justification wrong, what other factors should tip the scale?

Evangelicals and Catholics: Together?

As I've been thinking about Francis Beckwith's recent resignation as president of the Evangelical Theological Society in order to return to the Roman Catholic Church of his youth, my reaction has not been nearly as bitter and venemous as that of some evangelicals.

I think I yawned actually....

Sure, if one's view is that the good doctor left the pristine and pure confines of a Shire-like evangelical movement so that he could ride piggy-back on the Harlot who sits upon a scarlet Beast with seven heads and ten horns spouting incessant blasphemies, then perhaps a measure of lamentation is in order. But if Beckwith's crime amounts to exchanging Pepsi for Coke, then it will hardly ellicit a strong reaction (especially from those who prefer ale).

My point, for the metaphorically challenged, is that from where this confessional Presbyterian stands, things in Rome look surprisingly similar to what going on in Wheaton.

I plan, perhaps later today or tomorrow, to interact a bit with Beckwith's own rationale in the interview he gave in Christianity Today.

Stay tuned....

Get Thee Behind Me, Ye Shiny Happy People!

We all desire to see the evidence of divine handiwork in our lives (we see enough of the other kind, don't we?). But what do we do when the token of the Spirit's work within us is not a song but a sigh? Not fulfillment, but only more longing?

According to Paul in II Corinthians 5:1-5, the presence of the ache, the groaning, and the burden are part and parcel of this semi-eschatological epoch in which we toil between the already and the not yet. In other words, you're supposed to feel that tension that you feel, and if you didn't, something would be drastically wrong.

But things get interesting when we compare this to what we often hear from the pulpits of our contemporary megachurches (well, podiums to be more accurate).

If your children aren't perfectly behaved (i.e., they act like children), then you must not be "growing them God's way." If your evangelistic efforts are characterized by "weakness, fear, and much trembling" (like Paul's), then you need to read Leonard Ravenhill's Why Revival Tarries while simultaneously listening to "Asleep in the Light" by Keith Green. If your "blessed hope" is in the future somewhere, then read Your Best Life Now to cure you of that other-worldliness. If you struggle with sometimes reading Ecclesiastes and actually agreeing with it, then maybe your life isn't "Purpose-Driven"© enough. If indwelling sin still clings to you, just pray the Prayer of Jabez a few more times.

Or to simplify: If you're tired of being looked upon as weak, foolish, and irrelevant (i.e., like Jesus), then take heart! There is a legion of churches to help you make sure that will never happen (pun intended).

I seem to remember Peter offering Jesus some similar advice. Of course, Jesus responded by changing Peter's nickname to "Satan," so, like, maybe we shouldn't go there....

Whose Kingdom? Whose Glory?

John McWhorter, in his book Doing Our Own Thing: The Degradation of Language and Music, and Why We Should, Like, Care, argues that the day of oratory and rhetorical skill is all but over. Jesus’ disciples would probably have agreed after hearing his less-than-rousing speech following his "triumphant" entry into Jerusalem (on a donkey).

After years of insisting that "My hour has not yet come," our Lord finally declared, "The hour has come for the Son of man to be glorified" (John 12:23). At long last, the majesty would be restored to languishing Israel, and her preeminence among the nations would once again be apparent. The crowd was primed for revolt, and a mere call to arms from their Messiah surely would have resulted in a great military exploit to overthrow Rome and put their King in his rightful place.

What they got, however, was a cryptic illustration about a seed needing to die in order to grow, and then a bunch of morbid stuff about losing their lives and carrying crosses (vv. 24-26). "What could this possibly have to do with the kingdom?" the scribes, Pharisees, and proto-Dispensationalists must have been asking.

And we’re still asking. The American church wants glory, relevance, and her "best life now." The cross may have been fine for Jesus to die on, but not us (we have our inalienable rights, you know).

So here's my question: Is it a "theology of glory" to expect the American church to surrender its "theology of glory"?

Every Underdog Will Have Its Day

I have been preaching a series of sermons at Exile Presbyterian Church entitled "Thy Kingdom Come" for the last four months or so, and surprisingly (at least to me), one of the most important of these sermons was the one about Noah and the ark.

The kingdom of God had come to be identified with one man and his family, with the rest of the earth being filled with violence and wickedness. When the cause of God was that dire, and the kingdom that threatened, Noah's hope was placed not in the transformation of "the world that then existed," but in the new creation that would emerge in the postdilluvian world (II Pet. 3:6). In fact, since Peter holds Noah and his generation up as the pattern for us and ours (II Pet. 3:1ff), and since Jesus explicitly points to "the days of Noah" as indicative of the end (Matt. 24:37), it seems rather obvious what this means for our faith:

Christianity will always be an underdog religion. In fact, it works better that way.

But the problem with this hypothesis should be obvious: We Americans are not used to being in the minority, and when it comes to being underdogs, we're just plain bad at it. Hence the American church's desire to craft a faith that is relevant and beneficial to the culture around us (some people actually say, out loud, that if a church is doing its job, the community should thank them for their presence).

Is all of this sentiment the result of actual exegesis, or is it merely an example of our confusing the "power" and "wealth" of the earthly kingdom with that of the heavenly? Or to put it differently, if few bothered to thank Jesus for stopping by, can we expect better without shirking the cross in the process?

The Unworthiness of Egypt

There was a line in a film that came out about a decade ago that has always stuck with me:

"I see all this potential, and I see squandering. . . . An entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy junk we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off."

These sentiments are uttered by a protagonist who is desperately searching for something to restore a semblance of hope to a generation obsessed with materialistic consumerism.

What haunts me is that if someone like him can see it, or to reference another film from that era, if someone like Neo could ask, "What is the Matrix?", does it not stand to reason that the believer, of all people, should see through the charms and enticements of this age? If the wealth of Egypt was unworthy of Moses' pursuit and devotion, what does that say about the treasures that we insist on consuming?

I'm not saying the delights of this world are all necessarily sinful or evil. But that's the wrong question, anyway. The real question should be, are these pursuits worthy of us in the first place?

Invention is the Mother of Necessity

I do not doubt that the well-worn slogan "Necessity is the mother of invention" was at one time true. When the cavemen got cold, they had two options: invent fire or freeze to death.

But with the rapid growth and advancement of technology, supply no longer is the result of demand but often the cause of it. In other words, inventing stuff is easy; the challenge is to convince people of their need of it.

Consider the Internet: a technological phenomenon that I, back in the mid-nineties, dismissed as a passing fad that would be as quickly forgotten as the Slinky, has now become so intertwined with our lives that most people could not work, or even socialize, without it (no, the irony here is not lost on me).

But I would maintain that one's true happiness and fulfillment in life actually decreases as his or her level of dependence on technology increases. Whether we're talking about cell phones, laptops, or automobiles, we have allowed a myriad of components into our lives in order to "simplify" our existence, only to find that, soon afterward, we have become slaves to these harsh masters.

Sure, technology solves some problems, but they're often the very problems it helped create. Whether it's a cure for the cancer that we contracted due to the chemicals and radiation we are constantly exposed to or the Blackberry that helps us remember the various business meetings we must attend (to discuss how best to market Blackberrys), the fact is that technology's benefits are questionable at best.

Do we ever consider the adverse effects of our gadgets? For example, no one bothers to remember anyone's phone numbers anymore, since they're programmed into our cell phones (which doesn't help when your battery dies and you need to use someone else's). No one can make actual commitments to be anywhere at a specific time anymore since, after all, "I can just call you when I'm ten minutes out." College-aged kids can barely socialize face-to-face these days, since the bulk of their "personal interaction" is done via Facebook.com (and don't get me started on MySpace's redefinition of what a "friend" is).

We've spent so much energy asking, "Can we?" that we've forgotten to ask a more important question: "Should we?"

Fuel is for Machines

In the spirit of continuing to force my views on others by means of diatribe and rant, I would like to propose that we cease thinking about things like food and beverages purely for their utilitarian benefits, and get back to the idea that these things are to be savored and enjoyed.

It was the fascists, after all, who popularized the idea that food was merely fuel to replenish the workers' empty tanks so that they can continue to produce efficiently. For truly dedicated workaholics like Gordon Gekko, however, "Lunch is for wimps" (time, after all, is money, right?).

For my own part, I have never enjoyed (let alone even felt) the utilitarian effects of coffee, which probably explains my disdain for the drive-thru espresso stands so ubiquitous here in the Pacific Northwest. Coffee is to be drunk while sitting in a comfortable chair with a book in hand, not while fighting our way through rush hour traffic after a "power lunch" (and when a cigar is involved, one has no choice but to just take one's time).

"Modern coffeehouses," one author argues, "have as their mission purely useful goals: give you strong coffee and some bread to help you survive the day in a state of high anxiety and fear. They give off the unpleasant aroma of efficiency."

So as a form of protest against the hectic and rushed nature of our consumer-driven culture, I would call upon those who feel so moved to find some time to camp out in the corner of some café or coffeehouse to actually enjoy a meal and/or drink, and to crack open that book you've been wanting to read for years.

And no, you may not simply set your cell to vibrate. It must be left behind....

From Hierarchy to Mediocrity

"Unit. Corps. God. Country."

So the Marine lieutenant from the film A Few Good Men explained his priorities to Tom Cruise's character in order to justify his assault on a fellow officer (hey, he was following orders). The Christian version of this list usually places the "God" part a bit higher up on the totem pole of importance (like, say, first). After "God" follow "Church," "Family," and "Work" in varying order.

Some would argue, however, that it is illegitimate to place the various callings that God has given into a specific order of importance. If God has called me to be a dad, a husband, a church member, and a lawyer, then who am I to decide which of those legitimate vocations trumps the others?

Obviously, each person must come to his or her own conclusions on this matter. I will say, though, that if one sees his role as a husband and father as being more significant than he does his job (with the latter being a means to excel in the former), then it may be necessary to view with some measure of suspicion the clarion call Christians constantly hear to do all that we do "with excellence." Consider the following two reasons for this.

First, in order to be the best lawyer (or doctor, or WalMart employee) one can be will of necessity entail an excruciating amount of toil, stress, and overtime, which may very well interfere with one's performance in other areas.

Secondly, if Reformed, amillennial theology teaches us anything, it is that God is not glorified by what passes as impressive in the eyes of men. This means that when "excellence" is defined as whatever wows the worldly, it pales in God's estimation to the weakness, foolishness, and lackluster character of the cross.

So a hierarchy that places family above work may include a call for more mediocrity in the latter in order to show some excellence in the former.

The Protestant Rest Ethic

In The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism (1905), Max Weber drew a line connecting Calvinism and Capitalism, arguing that free-market ideology was much more likely to thrive in Protestant countries than in Roman Catholic ones.

Consider this illustration: It takes Joe 10 hours to produce 10 barrels of grain a day, earning him 10 dollars, which is the amount needed to sustain his and his family's needs. Now imagine that Joe were given a raise to two dollars per barrel rather than one dollar. The decision facing him would be largely determined, Weber would argue, by the volumes on Joe's bookshelf. If his shelf contains Thomas's Summa Theologica, then he'd earn his 10 dollars by producing only five barrels, and he'd leave work after only five hours' labor. But if his preferred reading were Calvin's Institutes of the Christian Religion, then he'd still work all ten hours, produce all ten barrels, and earn double the money.

Now Joe can afford to buy a copy of The Wealth of Nations (a nice supplement to all his Reformation literature).

Despite Luther's doctrine of vocation (which gave even the most mundane tasks divine significance), the fact that it is Catholics who enjoy plenty of rest while we Protestants are toiling by the sweat of our brows seems theologically inconsistent. After all, is not Reformed theology the one that emphasizes resting in Christ's work, while those papists are supposedly trying to earn God's favor? And if most Catholics have only purgatory awaiting them rather than a new heavens and earth, then why is it the Protestants who are busily trying to improve their earthly portions?

Possible answers include: 1). Catholics risk displeasing their earthly bosses in order to get back to the business of trying to please their heavenly one; 2). Catholics believe that earning God's favor includes having as much leisure time as possible; or 3). Protestants' preoccupation with earthly rewards is greater than they care to admit.

At the risk of allowing my theology to unduly influence my cultural worldview, I call on all Reformed amilennialists to spend more time socializing with friends and family over food and tastily-brewed beverages, reading more of the Bible and theology than they currently do, and what may be the first step toward all of this: To Work Less.

Close Laptop. Turn Off Cell. Go to Pub.

“Visiting the pub and drinking beer,” writes Tom Hodgkinson, “became a form of protest against the new emerging work ethic.... Pubs once acted as the focus of the community, providing a free front room where people... could discourse freely, drink deeply, and carouse. One gets a real sense that the Industrial Revolution was taking the fun out of life” (How To Be Idle, 166, 167).

When I was living in Europe, my fellow-missionaries and I used to spend much of our winters watching the Lonesome Dove miniseries on video. As we observed the life-long friendship of Augustus McRae and Woodrow F. Call (played by Robert Duvall and Tommy Lee Jones), we all vowed that we would never allow ourselves to become like so many men in our day: working 60 hours a week with no friends with whom we could “quaff foaming pints of nut-brown ale in convivial company.”

The nature of our culture is to isolate us from one another. We sit at our computers or in front of our TVs, we drive alone in our cars from the garage at home to the one at work, we interact through MySpace and email, we converse through cell phones and blue tooths, and even the live events we attend, like weddings or birthday parties, are usually observed through the screen of our camcorders.

We need to get out more (and I’m not talking about those “power lunches” during which we wolf down burgers at a food court so we can get back to work faster). How much political, personal, social, or theological reflection is just waiting to transpire at the local pub, if we would only make the time for it?

Frodo and Sam had the Green Dragon… what about us?

Rise, Shine, and Produce

"Sleep is a powerful seducer," writes Tom Hodgkinson, "hence the terrifying machinery we have developed to fight it. I mean, the alarm clock. Heavens! What evil genius brought together those two enemies of the idle – clocks and alarms – into one unit? ... For all modern society's promises of leisure [and] liberty... most of us are still slaves to a schedule we did not choose" (How to be Idle, 4, 6).

The author's point here is not that everyone should sleep until noon every day (he himself has small children), but that one of the (ill-)effects of our post-industrial world is that we have become what we once called "wage slaves," renting our bodies to tyrannical bosses. "What is truly amazing," Hodgkinson continues, "is that we buy alarm clocks voluntarily. Is it not absurd to spend our own hard-earned cash on a device to make every day start as unpleasantly as possible, and which really just serves the employer to whom we sell our time?"

I trust my point is not quite as idealistic as Hodgkinson's: Do we ever stop to think about the fact that the world wasn't always as hectic and hurried as it is now? That there are countries even today where people are not enslaved to the almighty dollar (what Jesus called "Mammon")?

For my own part, I desire to work as hard at my job as I can, while at the same time refusing to add to the simplicity of my calling a lot of extraneous non-essentials that would have kept me from sitting outside at the local coffee house a couple hours ago and enjoying a book and the sunshine.

Call it "inefficiency" if you must, to which I will respond that I am not a machine. Productivity, after all, may actually increase when we slow down the pace a bit....

On Hobbits, the Shire, and the Kingdom of God's Left Hand

In continuing to consider the believer's dual-citizenship in the kingdoms of Christ and culture, I would like to broach a topic of which the Bible speaks at length and in detail, but which is often ignored from the contemporary American pulpit (either because it has become so ingrained into our psyches that we don't really have the necessary perspective to think critically about it, or simply because we're afraid to ask the kinds of questions we should be asking):

Work, Money, and the proper use of our Time.

To kick the discussion off, I'll quote from the Prologue of J.R.R. Tolkien's The Fellowship of the Ring "Concerning Hobbits" (bet you didn't see that one coming):

"Hobbits are an unobtrusive people; they love peace and quiet and good tilled earth. They do not like machines more complicated than a water-mill or hand-loom. They do not hurry unnecessarily. At no time had Hobbits been warlike, and they had never fought among themselves. They imbibed or inhaled, through pipes of clay or wood, the smoke of the burning leaves of a herb which they call pipe-weed or leaf [and developed a keen interest in the brewing and drinking of ales]."

My reason for this allusion is Tolkien's clear intention to present the lives of Hobbits as an ideal one, and the Shire in which they dwelt as a metaphor for the idyllic kind of life free from the pressures and hectic pace introduced by the industrial revolution.

The overarching question, then, is whether our lives reflect, even in a small way, the enjoyment of the pleasures of the kingdom of God's left hand, or whether we are so bound to our (legitimate) secular vocations that we have become incapable of being the moms and dads, wives and husbands, and even the human beings, that we desire to be?

The Noetic Effects of Grace: Pagan Ethics

When we consider the Bible's assessment of pagan ethics, we are forced, once again, to pause before we press the antithesis between the believer and unbeliever too far.

Jesus says plainly that "sinners" love and do good to others (Matt. 5:46; Luke 6:32-33); he also commends the scribes' and Pharisees' teaching of Torah, encouraging their disciples to obey their instruction despite the fact that their lifestyles are not always in conformity with what they teach (Matt. 23:2-3); Paul actually holds up pagan morality as a means to shame the Corinthians for the perversity allowed in their midst (I Cor. 5:1-2a); In Athens, Paul employs arguments from the intellectual tradition of Greece to demonstrate the folly of pagan idolatry, first quoting Epimenides of Crete, and then the Stoic authors Cleanthes and Aratus of Soli (Acts 17:28, [Apparently, these pagan philosophers had a sufficiently robust understanding of the nature of God to expose the futility of idolatry]). And finally, Paul quotes the Cretan poet Epimenides in his letter to Titus (1:12-13a), adding that the pagan poet's estimation of the morality of his contemporaries is "true."

To what can we attribute all of these things but to God's common grace?

What all of this amounts to is the conclusion that in common, non-redemptive fields such as art, music, philosophy, agriculture, architecture, and even ethics, the believer and the unbeliever are more similar than different due to their both sharing the imago Dei.

Moreover, if we mistakenly insist that the these fields of interest are under the jurisdiction of redemption and are therefore to be considered "holy," then not only ought all Christians to withdraw completely from culture into ghettos or compounds where the world's wicked influences can't touch us, but we also run the risk of dilluting the Bible's authority when it comes to the things it actually does address, like, say, the cross and empty tomb.