Generous Orthodoxy, part one

Note: I am hoping that this review essay of Brian McLaren's A Generous Orthodoxy will show up soon in print. Until then, I thought it might be good to post it here. The first two parts will probably say little that hasn't already been said--they are overviews of strong and weak points in the book. For me, the pay-off is the third part, where I raise questions about what embracing the Emerging/Emergent Church Movement will do for/to Presbyterian identity.

Observers of the American religion scene know that the hottest trend for the past five years has been the growing “emergent church” movement. Promoted through books, conferences, and especially websites, it has begun to draw the attention of mainstream theological educators as well as denominational officials in the Southern Baptist Convention. Younger pastors and leaders increasingly have identified themselves as “emergent,” by which they may refer to a number of intellectual and practical commitments: non-foundational epistemology; narrative theology; communion/communal ecclesiology; sacramentalism; and/or renewed respect for tradition. Even local media outlets have recognized this “new way of being Christian” and thought it newsworthy. And though there are several key pastors and intellectual leaders for this movement, probably none was as prolific or important as Brian McLaren, founding pastor of Cedar Ridge Community Church, Spencerville, Maryland.

Raised Plymouth Brethren, McLaren wandered away from the faith during his teen years. He was eventually caught up by the fervor of the Jesus Movement in the 1970s and recommitted himself to Christ. From there, he made his way through college at the University of Maryland, equipping himself to teach English literature by studying Walker Percy. After teaching for several years at a University of Maryland branch campus, he felt called to plant a church, which after fits and a restart, eventually became Cedar Ridge in 1988. Since he published his first book in 1998, he has written ten books, several of which have drawn wide recognition. Recently, McLaren stepped down as senior pastor and assumed a place on the pastoral staff in order to focus more on writing and speaking at conferences around the country. In recognition of his importance, in 2005 Time magazine recognized him as one of the 25 most influential evangelicals in America.

The reactions from the Presbyterian and Reformed community to McLaren and the emergent movement have ranged from curt dismissal to intense concern. Mark Dever, member of the Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals council, sounded alarmed when he observed that McLaren’s work is “less helpful than I would have hoped and more dangerous than I would have thought.” Others, such as Westminster Seminary California’s Michael Horton dismissed the emergent church’s postmodern paradigm as nothing more than “most-modernism,” the latest fad come down the pike for twenty-first century American consumers. However, concern or dismissal has not stopped a number of younger Presbyterian and Reformed ministers from identifying themselves with the style, ethos, and methods of the emergent movement.

Perhaps the closest thing that the emergent church movement has to a “confession of faith” is McLaren’s 2004 book, A Generous Orthodoxy. Part evangelistic tract and part identity statement, the book touched on most of the emergent movement’s concerns and answered a number of the criticisms that have been raised about McLaren’s own theological perspective as well as the intellectual, social, and cultural underpinnings of the movement itself. I would suggest that a careful examination of this book reveals a number of common places where Presbyterian pastors can rejoice in and be generous toward the ministry of the emergent church. At the same time, there are several questions that rightly can be raised about the theological commitments of emergent church leaders. Through a careful engagement of one of their key leaders, I believe that the emergent church movement offered several important answers to the problem of religious identity, ones that may not be the best that Presbyterian church leaders can find for the problems of religious pluralism and meaningful dialogue with others.

Generous
On the surface, there were a number of areas where I found profound agreement with McLaren.

First, I thought his emphasis upon the church as a community journeying into the joy of God was a helpful corrective to the individualism of American evangelicalism (208). Many of us have profited from thinking about the Anabaptist contribution to issues related to community, particularly as mediated by John Yoder and Stanley Hauerwas. Although I wondered about how this emphasis upon community related to the need for individual commitment to Jesus (204), and I have concerns that many of the emergent leaders fail to reckon thoroughly with the costs of community, still I applaud the emphasis.

Also, McLaren rightly stressed that “orthopraxy [is] the point of orthodoxy” (31). On the surface this was nothing more than James’ wise instruction not to be merely hearers of the Word, but doers of it as well (James 1:22-25). Far too many of our people fail to translate the theological truths taught Sunday by Sunday into action; his stress once again the importance of Christian living as the fruit of the Gospel cohered nicely biblical imperatives.

McLaren further was deeply concerned to point women and men toward a relationship with Jesus. Indeed, he claimed to “cherish an evangelical identity,” by which he means “an attitude—an attitude toward God and our neighbor and our mission that is passionate” (117-8). Particularly in the first section, in which he was writing directly to those who were seeking truth about Jesus, McLaren was genuinely winsome in his presentation of the Gospel. And though he raised a number of theological questions, his concern to point people to Jesus was admirable.

In addition, I could affirm McLaren’s desire to reclaim Scripture as narrative (166) and his desire to read Scripture redemptive-historically. Again, this related well to the recent emphasis in Presbyterian circles, taught by Geerhardus Vos, John Murray, and Edmund Clowney, on seeing Scripture as the “unfolding mystery,” presenting God’s ultimate revelation of God, Jesus, and his fulfillment of all God’s promises and purposes in his living, dying, and rising again.

While I would not want to affirm this in his context he suggested (namely, the positive contributions of Roman Catholicism), I do believe that his emphasis upon the sacramental nature of life was salutary (225-6). There has been a renewed focus in Presbyterian and Reformed circles particularly on the sacraments and their importance for the Christian life. Part of this appeared to be motivated by the mysterious nature of the sacraments’ efficacy, which was seen as a rebellion against the rationalized, over-determined nature of contemporary life; part of this the way the sacraments help to overcome the body-soul dualism to which human beings are prone. In the tangible and physical means of water, bread, and wine, Jesus promises to confirm and assure our faith in his Gospel promises of full and final redemption.

This emphasis upon human bodily existence—on our humanness—also came through in his stand for creation care. Sounding most like Wendell Berry, McLaren helpfully pointed his readers to recognize their place within God’s good creation and their responsibility to tend this cosmic garden for God’s glory (231-44). Certainly this is a wonderful reminder of the responsibilities Christians have to serve God by doing good work in a good world.

In all of these ways, I believe, Presbyterian and Reformed readers can be generous towards McLaren and the emergent church movement. We have a number of shared interests and hopes; and certainly, we can look at those participating in this movement, stressing these themes, and find in them sisters and brothers in Christ. We can also affirm their heart-felt commitment to Jesus, even when we may have to raise questions or even to dissent from their perspectives.

History News Network

As I was trolling today, I found this blog mentioned here on the blog of the History News Network at George Mason University. To whomever did so, thanks for linking to me!

Tim Keller

This is an amazing article in the New York Times on Tim Keller, pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian Church, NYC.

Ecumencial Adventures

Yesterday, I represented the seminary at the Day for Theological Conversation, which was hosted by Kenrick-Glennon Seminary, a Roman Catholic seminary here in town. My understanding of the event was that there would be three speakers--a Rabbi, a Muslim, and a Arab Christian (discussing "The Semitic Experience in America)--and then all the faculy members present were to give two minutes or less in reflection or question of the presentations.

When our host outlined the sequence at the events, though, he said that after the three speakers would be two respondants. I thought to myself, "Hmm, that's good. They lined up two respondants before the event." So, I contented myself with passing the time and listening to the speakers, two of whom were engaging and the other overbearing. But then, after the speakers spoke (for over an hour and half), the host said, "Let's take a break. After that, we will hear from our two respondants, Dr. X [I didn't catch his name] and Dr. Sean Lucas, from Covenant Seminary." Yikes! I had 10 minutes to prepare a 5-10 minute response in which I would sound reflective, knowledgeable, and winsome without saying anything which I would regret or which would be untrue!

Fortunately, the Lord had brought to mind a classic book in American religious history, R. Laurence Moore's Religious Outsiders and the Making of Americans. Moore considers various "outsiders" (Mormons, Fundamentalists, Catholics, Jews) and observers the dialectic tension that is created by "Americanization"--in the interplay between religion and America, how does the meaning of America shift? How does the faith system itself transform?

After outlining Moore's basic framework, and using it to summarize each of the presentations (on the pressures of America and particularity of faiths), I also admitted that these questions applied just as well to the conservative Protestantism that I represented at the gathering. How does the American situation cause conservative religionists to identify more with the nation-state instead of God's own City? What should the proper (i.e. Christian) response be?

My thoughts turned to Hebrews 11 and the image of Abraham wandering as a stranger and alien in the Promised Land. He lived in tents that had no foundations because he was looking for a city whose builder and maker was God. And so must we. We are strangers and aliens in this place--and when conservative Protestants identify with America or a particular part of America (region, race, or political platform) instead of the City of God--our own faith is transformed in ways that are unrecognizable when compared to Holy Scripture. I asked in conclusion, what would this recognition that we are all strangers in America mean for our particular faiths? And what would this mean for America itself?

The Conventicle

I was going through my "favorites" reading weblogs, trying to catch up before a 1:30pm meeting, and found a very nice mention of my Robert Lewis Dabney at The Conventicle in their entry for January 24, 2006. This is wonderful blog where students in Edinburgh, Scotland, discuss Reformation and Post-Reformation history and theology; I'd recommend it very highly!

The Dying PC(USA)

The PC(USA) is projecting massive losses in membership in 2005 and 2006. According to this article in the Presbyterian Layman, in those two years, the church is projecting a loss of 150,000 members. To put that number in prospective, in 2004, the PCA claimed a total membership of 330,182. So, the number of lost members from the oldine church is almost equal to half the total membership of the next largest Presbyterian denomination.

While evangelicals in the PC(USA) (and outside observers) want to pin this two-year loss solely on theological and social liberalism, and no doubt some of that is in play here, I can't help but wonder if there are other sociological phenomenon here as well. For example, from my own engagement with that church, it strikes me that the PC(USA) is a graying denomination--visiting their seminaries or Montreat, for example, reveals the fact that there are few 20- and 30-somethings. And so, I wonder if this is, in part, a generational phenomenon. Still, as their own scholars have argued, theological and social progressivism has also played an important part in the demise the oldline church (e.g. Dean Hoge's Vanishing Boundaries and Robert Wuthnow's The Restructuring of American Religion).

The temptation for conservative evangelicals is to gloat and point fingers--"see what happens when theological liberalism is tolerated in a denomination." But I can't help but think the entire situation is incredibly sad for this reason: this historic church with its wonderful resources and history is dying. It's like having a wealthy relative who has lived an amazing life, but at the end of his life somehow contracted a disease from his own actions (perhaps lung cancer?) and is now dying. It is simply sad and no amount of finger-pointing and chiding makes it better.

There is a scene from C. S. Lewis' The Magician's Nephew in which Digory and Polly show up at Charn just as that world is dying. The darkness and death of that world coming to an end was incredibly melancholy. To view the PC(USA)'s death is equally sad. Now is not a time for gloating, but a time for tears.

HT: Al Mohler

Sharper Iron

One of the weblogs that I read with regularity is Sharper Iron. I was surprised, and gratified, to find that they linked to my entry on Mike Davis, entitled, "The Challenge of Following the Leader." In thankfulness, I am tipping my "virtual" hat back to them! Thanks, guys, for reading me and sending readers my way!

"Word and Deed" v. "Spirituality of the Church"?

The more I have reflected on D. G. Hart and John Muether's observations on the PCA's history, the more I have wanted to comment on one small point.

In their final paragraph, Hart and Muether appear to set "word and deed ministry" and the "spirituality of the church" in opposition when they write, "The Presbyterian Journal evolved into World magazine, and 'word and deed ministry' has begun to eclipse the 'spirituality of the church' in the vocabulary of the PCA. These are signs that the denomination may be more eager to locate itself on the cutting edge of culture reformation than to foster a coherently Reformed and Presbyterian identity." The question I wanted to raise was this: does "word and deed ministry" necessarily violate the "spirituality of the church"?

I think the clear answer to this is "no"--having a strong interest as a local church, presbytery, or even a denomination in serving the poor, working for justice, developing communities does not necessarily violate the spiritual nature of the church. If so, then our churches as churches should not have sent teams of workers to assist with relief efforts after Hurricane Katrina; people should have gone as private individuals to work in relief efforts run by the state. But this logic seems to be mistaken, if for no other reason than Matthew 25:40.

Further, southern Presbyterians such as John L. Girardeau--who held strongly to the spirituality of the church--developed thorough biblical rationales for diaconates whose task would be to care for the poor and suffering. In this, southern Presbyterians were simply following after Calvin, who observed that deacons' responsibilities were "to distribute alms and take care of the poor, and serve as stewards of the common chest of the poor" (Institutes, 4.3.9). [For more on this, see Elsie McKee, Diakonia in the Classical Reformed Tradition and Today (Eerdmans, 1989).] If Girardeau (and Calvin for that matter) could urge a strong word and deed ministry through the structures and officers of the church, then it seems unlikely that such could be a violation of the spirituality of the church.

Finally, the question comes about what is "spiritual." Is caring for someone's body as well as their soul spiritual activity? I would suggest that, in fact, it is--when deed ministry facilitates the proclamation of Gospel word, then such is spiritual activity that is worthy of the church's notice and support. Such ministry furthers the spiritual mission of the church by bringing Gospel transformation to people who are struggling with real life problems that are spiritual at root.

Indeed, I would suggest that such a spiritual mission--this word and deed ministry--is part of the best of the Reformed tradition, all the way back to Calvin himself.

NASCAR inspired road rage

Jeff Foxworthy: "I believe that if you let someone into traffic and they don't give you that little wave, then it should be perfectly legal to get up under them, get them loose, and still them into the wall."

Associate Pastors

This is a very good article on the struggles that a number of associate pastors face in their calling to serve their church and support their senior pastors. Though most of the examples are taken from oldline Protestantism, the problems transcend theological lines or ecclesial settings: how do sinful people transformed and being transformed work with others in such a way that the Gospel shines more clearly? And how do we do this while still recognizing our desire for security and significance, desires rooted in our very created humanity?

Infant baptism and presumptive regeneration

Letter, Geerhardus Vos to B. B. Warfield, 12 February 1891, in Letters, 147:

...Is Dr. Kuyper correct in representing his theory as the proper Calvinistic view of infant baptism? Did the older theologians really mean that that baptism in each case presupposes regeneration as an accomplished fact? I have never been able to make up my mind on this point, and still feel the necessity of having a more or less decided opinion in my teaching. There are many among us who hold to a much laxer theory and make baptism little more than a symbolic offer of the covenant on God's side, a presentation of the gospel isntead of a seal of the gospel promise. It seems to me that Dr. Kuyper approaches more or less to the Lutheran view of baptismal grace, though of course with the necessary restrictions.

Jeopardy No. 2

Question: The Letters of Geerdhardus Vos, ed. James T. Dennison, Jr.

Answer: What did Sean just now carry back from the Covenant Seminary bookstore to his office?

[btw--one of the books contracted for the American Reformed Biographies series is a biography on Vos by George Harinck, a professor at the Free University, Amsterdam. Hopefully, we will see that some time in 2008.]

The Challenge of Following the Leader

UPDATE: As you may know, ESPN is reporting that Mike Davis has resigned as head coach of the IU basketball team, effective at the end of the season. Which, after losing to Penn State, can't come soon enough.

I like Mike Davis, the head coach for Indiana University's men's basketball team. He is a good Christian man who is honest and hardworking. I think he has done as well with a bad situation as can be expected (following Bob Knight as head coach). However, after his comments yesterday, I can't see how he will be back for next season. He has all but said that he should no longer be the coach.

It is intriguing that Davis observed that IU should hire "one of their own." That had to be a reference to Steve Alford, IU basketball legend and current head coach at Iowa (which currently is in first place in the Big Ten). What is especially interesting is to see the polarizing opinions on blogs that discuss IU basketball on whether Alford should or should not be the next head coach.

[In the interest of full disclosure, even before Knight left, I felt that Alford should be the next head coach. He was the reason I started following IU basketball in 1984 when, as a freshman, he led IU over the Michael Jordan-led UNC in the Sweet Sixteen.]

To take this a little further, and into a different realm, it is interesting to me the parallels here between following a long-time, successful (and polarizing) head coach and following a long-time, successful pastor. There is no question in my mind that Davis has been a "sacrifical lamb"--ever since he got the job, he has been compared, scruntized, criticized, denigrated, praised, or upheld compared to the ghost of Bob Knight. In how many of our churches does it happen the same way? A long-time pastor leaves and the new pastor is held to the standard, not of biblical faithfulness or pastoral care or passionate vision, but of the previous pastor and that man's quirks, abilities, or liabilities. The previous leader lingers like a ghost in every conversation and in every decision that a church makes.

While we can try to find reasons for this phenomenon (remaining corruption, law-based standards, unrealistic expectations), I think it is easier simply to observe this as part of the natural human reaction to transitions in leadership (whatever the area) and the instability and anxiety that accompanies it. While Davis (or a new pastor) can do certain things to minimize the anxiety within the "system" through calm and calculated leadership, people will still judge leaders by the ghosts who still remain in the community's memory.

Suffice it to say, that one of the great challenges of leadership is to follow "the leader."

The Calvary Contender

When I was a pastoral studies major at Bob Jones University, I used to live in mortal fear that someday I would be exposed in "The Calvary Contender" as a "neo-evangelical." In that light, it was striking to see 1) that this publication has continued to this present day and 2) that, according to this article, it is finally shutting down.

It is also striking how the new media (i.e. the internet) has simply transformed the sort of thing "The Calvary Contender" used to do. While Mr. Huffman was limited by his finances and subscription list to get the word out about "compromising" ministries, now all one needs to do is to start a blog! Now, the kind of "truth-telling" that the "Contender" used to do can be done far more efficently. A number of theological firefights in various denominations are now conducted on the internet where they were once conducted through mimeographed scandal sheets.

But I wonder if we are better Christians with this model of ministry? Does the kind of "contending" helpfully model the virtues of Christ? Or to put it differently, does pugnaciousness, even if the name of "Truth," live out Paul's instructions in 2 Timothy 2:24-25: "And the Lord's servant must not be quarrelsome but kind to everyone, able to teach, patiently enduring evil, correcting his opponents with gentleness"? This type of ministry may attract quite a bit of attention, land you on Larry King Live, and sell books--but I don't think it helps God's people live out the character of Christ well.

I think a better model is the loving and long-suffering pastoral approach offered by the Apostle Paul (even in a book like Galatians in which he pleads with his people in 4:12-20). As we earnestly contend for the faith, we need to make sure that our people know that we will love them anyways and always, that our care for them is rooted in a prior relationship, a common "union," rooted in our common union with Christ. We may tell them the truth and expose error, but it is always motivated by love for Christ, his church, and his people.

Otherwise, we will simply be clanging gongs, crashing symbols, making loud noises but accomplishing nothing, even as we contend for the faith once delivered to the saints. For without love, we are nothing and our ministries are nothing.

Alan Jackson's new CD

I can't wait for this. Alan Jackson's hymns CD comes out February 28! [You sophisticated types who don't like country music can skip this entry!]

Wise Leadership and Prudent Consolidation

From David Steinmetz, Reformers in the Wings, p. 99:

When [Heinrich] Bullinger died in 1575, he could look back on a long career, marked not so much by brilliant innovation as by prudent consolidation. He conserved the gains made by Zwingli and built on them...

Bullinger is less important for his originality than for his wisdom. He was the humane and compassionate pastor pastorum, whose learning and gifts were modestly put at the service of others. Precisely because he was less innovative than either Zwingli or Calvin, he was better able than either to state in a way that transcended factional differences the hard lines of the faith of the Reformed church. Without Zwingli there would have been no Reformation in Zurich; without Bullinger it would not have lasted.

Mark Noll to Notre Dame

Read it here. I wonder if Wheaton will get a junior scholar and a player to be named later.

HT: Justin Taylor

Hart and Muether on the PCA

Historians D. G. Hart and John Muether have been writing a series of articles on "turning points" in American Presbyterian history for the OPC magazine, New Horizons. In the February 2006 issue, they profile the founding of the PCA. I found the article generally accurate and their concluding observation fair.

The only real historical "mistake" was their linking Presbyterian Evangelistic Fellowship directly to foreign missions at its founding in 1964. The story is a little more complex: PEF was started by Bill Hill as a fellowship of Presbyterian evangelists who did itinerant ministry in the South; in 1971, the leadership decided to start the Executive Committee on Overseas Missions [ECOE], which would eventually morph into Mission to the World when the PCA started.

I think the article raises the important point--do church members in the PCA see themselves as Presbyterians? Or do they simply see themselves as evangelical Protestants who happen to go to a PCA church (but who could, just as easily, go to an Evangelical Free church)? These questions have a great deal to do with whether the PCA will represent a distinctively Presbyterian witness in the coming generation. And these questions motivated me to write my book, On Being Presbyterian, which will release (Lord willing) in April.

Calvin on the sacraments

From Calvin, Institutes, 4.14.3:

"Now, from the definition that I have set forth we understand that a sacrament is never without a preceding promise but is joined to it as a sort of appendix, with the purpose of confirming and sealing the promise itself, and of making it more evident to us and in a sense ratifying it. By this means God provides first for our ignorance and dullness, then for our weakness.

"Yet, properly speaking, it is not so much needed to confirm his Sacred Word as to establish us in faith in it. For God's truth is of itself firm and sure enough, and it cannot receive better confirmation from any other source than from itself. But as our faith is slight and feeble unless it be propped on all sides and sustained by every means, it trembles, wavers, totters, and at last gives way.

"Here our merciful Lord, according to his infinite kindness, so tempers himself to our capacity that, since we are creatures who always creep on the ground, cleave to the flesh, and, do not think about or even conceive of anything spiritual, he condescends to lead us to himself even by these early elements, and to set before us in the flesh a mirror of spiritual blessings."

The Greatest Rock Group in the World

I'm a Coldplay fan; I enjoy them and even liked their performance on Austin City Limits. But if there was really any doubt, the Grammy awards tonight dispelled them--that when it comes to the title "Greatest Rock Group in the World," it really is U2.

Their two song set--"Vertigo" and, especially, "One," with Bono dueting with Mary J. Blige--was amazing. Chris Martin, on the other hand, was consistently off-key and looks completely uncomfortable on stage. I don't know if U2 will win album of the year or best rock album of the year, but that performance was one of the best I've seen in watching the Grammys.

[UPDATE: as you may know, U2 did win best rock album AND album of the year. I hope they put the performance out on iTunes...]

Lucaspotting, No. 1

I'll be out and about at a couple of places this spring and summer, aside from my regular teaching ministry at Covenant Theological Seminary and pulpit supply at Covenant Presbyterian Church:

• May 2-3: I'll be giving a seminar on "Dealing with Yourself by Grace" at the Augusta Conference, hosted by First Presbyterian Church, Augusta, Georgia [they don't have information on their website yet; when they do, I'll make a link].
• June 20-23: I'll be giving a seminar on "Making Disciples: Thinking Through Presbyterian Identity in our Postmodern World" at the 2006 PCA General Assembly in Atlanta, Georgia.
• July 24-28: Donald Guthrie and I will be teaching at Ridge Haven in North Carolina for the Covenant Family Conference 2006.

Time

From Eugene Peterson, Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places, p. 65:

The understanding and honoring of time is fundamental to the realization of who we are and how we live. Violations of sacred time become desecrations of our most intimate relations with God and one another. hours and days, weeks and months and years, are the very stuff of holiness.

Among the many desecrations visited upon the creation, the profanation of time ranks near the top, at least among North Americans. Time is the medium in which we do all our living. When time is desecrated, life is desecrated. The most conspicuous evidences of this desecration are hurry and procastination: hurry turns away from the gift of time in a compulsive grasping for abstractions that it can possess and control. Procrastination is distracted from the gift of time in a lazy inattenativeness to the life of obedience and adoration by which we enter the "fullness of time." Whether by a hurried grasping or by a procrastinating inattention, time is violated.

Leadership for God's People

Note: This is the concluding section of a sermon for this Sunday, 5 February 2006, on 1 Timothy 3:1-7. If you would like to hear the sermon in its entirety, click here.

Having served on presbytery candidate committees as well as interviewing faculty candidates for the seminary, one of the questions that inevitably gets asked is this: “Is there any matter that would concern us if we knew about it, even if we have failed to ask you about it specifically?”

One man answered this well—he said, “If you were to know all that is in my heart, and the numerous ways that I sin against the Lord, against my family, then perhaps you would be concerned. But God is greater than my heart.”

And this is our only hope, our only place to stand as leaders in Christ’s church—that the God who knows me inside and out no longer sees me against a checklist of laws, a standard of perfection—he no longer condemns me. Rather, he sees me, the chief of sinners, saved by his overflowing grace, faith, and love in Jesus (cf. 1 Timothy 1:14).

The only way church leadership can be a noble task is when we see ourselves as God sees us: united to Christ, righteous in him, holy in his sight, an adopted son, and glorious. Otherwise, we will be undone.

But the other temptation is this: to demand far more of our leaders than they can ever deliver. We all are tempted to compare our leaders to some other standard of perfection, some other esteemed pastor or elder. What we have to remember is that there is only one Bryan Chapell, one George Robertson, one Skip Ryan, one Tim Keller, (thankfully) one Sean Lucas. God created each of his leaders—each elder, each pastor—with specific gifts and strengths: but we are all men, not Supermen.

A song which I’ve had on heavy replay on my iPod this week is one by Five for Fighting. The song is called “Superman,” and it is written from his own perspective:

I can’t stand to fly;
I’m not that naïve
I’m just out to find;
The better part of me

I’m more than a bird...i’m more than a plane
More than some pretty face beside a train
It’s not easy to be me

It may sound absurd...but don’t be naïve
Even heroes have the right to bleed
I may be disturbed...but won’t you concede
Even heroes have the right to dream
It’s not easy to be me

Up, up and away...away from me
It’s all right...you can all sleep sound tonight

I can’t stand to fly;
I’m not that naïve
Men weren’t meant to ride
With clouds between their knees

I’m only a man in a silly red sheet
Digging for kryptonite on this one way street
Only a man in a funny red sheet
Looking for special things inside of me

It is easy for us to look at our leaders and to think of them as “Supermen.” And it is easy for us to long for leaders who will be bullet-proof or omni-competent. But there are no Supermen, only men who can’t stand to fly, who bleed, who dream, and who feel awfully silly sometimes.

Rather, the leaders that God gives us, the leaders that God calls upon us to recognize, are men: men who are honest enough to make mistakes, to fail, to falter at times. Men who recognize themselves to be sinners, yea the chief of sinners. And yet these leaders are men in which Jesus Christ has displayed his perfect patience as a Gospel example to the whole world—that God can redeem sinners, can transform them inside out, can make them worthy of service, can make them “above reproach” and instruments “useful to the master of the house” (2 Timothy 2:21).

And the result is this: as God's leaders care and shepherd and teach and love God's people, we hear God’s Word, love God more deeply and thoroughly and passionately, and love each other with godly passion and intensity for God's glory and the world's good.

Lutherans and the Third Use of the Law

Last night, my lecture in Reformation and Modern Church History was on the process of German Lutheran Confessionalization in the 16th century. One of the things that I discovered in my reading and research for the lecture was that the common Reformed (and in many quarters, Lutheran) claim that Lutherans deny "the third use of the law" is completely wrong. In fact, it is the exact opposite.

[For those who don't know what the third use of the law is--Reformation thinkers have claimed that the moral law has three uses--it reveals and condemns sin, points to Christ, and provides a guide or norm for the Christian life. This last use is the "third use of the law."]

In the Formula of Concord, article 6 (1577), Lutherans confess, "We believe, teach, and confess that the proclamation of the law is to be diligently impressed not only upon unbelievers and the unrepentant but also upon those who believe in Christ and are truly converted, reborn, and justified by faith."

In that same article, they confess, "The fruits of the Spirit, however, are the works that the Spirit of God, who dwells in believers, effects through the reborn; they are done by believers (insofar as they are reborn) as if they knew of no command, threat, or reward. In this manner the children of God live in the law and walk according to the law."

This strikes me as exactly right and very much in line with the Westminster Confession of Faith, 19:6, 7. The law is "the unchangeable will of God"; and for believers, it represents a standard of perfection that they cannot meet because of remaining sin. And yet, God grants us his Spirit to enable them to walk in the law's way (indeed, to love God's law itself as a friend and not as a foe). This healthy emphasis upon the Spirit's enablement also represents Galatians 5:13-26 well, in which the works of love are motivated and enabled by the Holy Spirit.

It represents yet another area of common ground between Reformed and Lutherans, reminding us that historically speaking (i.e. in the 16th century) the dividing line was not election, predestination, bondage of the will, or the continuing use of the law (for this see Robert Kolb's brilliant Bound Choice, Election, and the Wittenberg Theological Method [2005]).

Rather, the dividing line was (what Lutherans called) "the sacrament of the altar"--how is Christ's body and blood present in the Lord's Supper? And while that was and is an important issue, it doesn't strike me to be the same kind of barrier to fellowship and cooperation that it was in the 16th century. With such a large amount of common ground, I think conservative Lutherans and Reformed would do well to be in closer conversation and cooperation.

Calvin on baptism and Supper

In the light of some internet chatter, I thought this from Calvin (Institutes, 4.18.19) was interesting:

My readers now possess, collected into summary form, almost everything that I thought should be known concerning these two sacraments, whose use has been handed down to the Christian church from the beginning of the New Testament even to the end of the world; that is, that baptism should be, as it were, an entry into the church, and an initation into faith; but the Supper should be a sort of continual food on which Christ spiritually feeds the household of his believers. Therefore, as there is but one God, one faith, one Christ, and one church, his body; so baptism is but one, and is not a thing oft-repeated. But the Supper is repeatedly distributed, that those who have once been drawn into the church may realize that they continually feed upon Christ.

Phil Ryken on the ESV

Here is an excellent narrative of how Phil Ryken and Tenth Presbyterian Church, Philadelphia, came to switch to the English Standard Version of the Bible.

HT: Justin Taylor

Religious Conservatism

From David Steinmetz, Reformers in the Wings, p. 70:

The role of a religious conservative is rarely a popular one, especially when this conservatism is combined with an intolerance of all theological innovation. There is something pinched and one-sided about the mentality that holds that a decisive theological breakthrough has taken place in the past but denies (or is at least distrustful of) the possibility of new and original insights in the present. That the church has been led into truth in the past does not exclude the possibility of the discovery of new truth in the present, even if the new insight is only a deepened participation in the meaning of the old.

The conservative, however, while often unpopular, is nevertheless a necessary fellow. The natural tendency of any parish is toward heresy. Unless the church is willing to lose its treasure without a struggle, there is a need for watchmen to sound the alarm and remind the church that the gospel it is preaching is not the gospel it has preached. It may well be that the church may decide that its new understanding represents a growth in insight rather than a relapse. But it needs to be reminded in any case that it has changed its course, so that it may consult its charts and compass and come to a conscious decision concerning the advisability of its new direction.

Theology and the inner life

From Rose Marie Miller, From Fear to Freedom: “Why are some many Christians still mastered emotionally by hesitancies about God, and why do they so often question his willingness and power to save hard cases? And why do so many Christians doubt that he loves them with all the deep caring described in Scripture? The answer is that good theology only helps when it controls the inner life.”

Institutional Assessment

As a seminary administrator with an institutional self-study on the horizon, this perspective from an institution in a different tradition made me chuckle.

Preaching Grace

There is a very interesting discussion going on here at the Reformation 21 blog on why it is so much easier for preachers to motivate people to holiness by railing at their sin than by pointing to the beauties of God's grace. I have a different take on this, I think, although Carl Trueman's observations come close to the mark.

Like Carl, I do think it has to do with ministers and maturity--but it is not chronological maturity nor general life experience. I think the real issue is personal spiritual maturity, or to change it, emotional and spiritual health. [Here, in particular, I am channeling the first principle from Peter Scazerro's The Emotionally Healthy Church.] If ministers are unable to look deeply below the surface of their own lives and deal with themselves graciously, it is going to be difficult for them to point others to God's grace.

What is more common, in my experience and in the lives of those I know well, is this: typically, those who become senior pastors are fairly responsible and driven people--in order to go through the Presbyterian educational and ordination process, one needs to be! The way they are able to function in ministry effectively (and deal with the stresses and challenges of ministry) is to become very disciplined and responsible people. The way this happens, in turn, is to hold oneself to a standard, whether a checklist or some other device.

Now, what ends up happening is when that checklist is not met, or when the minister leaves the office, if he felt like "I didn't get anything accomplished," guilt creeps in. And most of us deal with that guilt and/or shame by saying, "I'll do better tomorrow: I'll run faster, work harder, do better." We hold ourselves to an extremely high standard (perfection?) and feel badly when we are unable to accomplish that standard. In other words, we deal with ourselves by means of the law.

This pattern of law--standard, failure, guilt, personal recrimination, and repurposing--becomes the pattern for our spiritual lives as well. We struggle with some personal sin--perhaps losing our temper at home--and we set some standard (e.g. in this argument, I'm going to lower my voice and not yell). However, the wife knows how to push all our buttons and we fail. Guilt and shame arise as well as personal recrimination; we rail at ourselves for our failures and we purpose to "do better next time" (i.e. a new standard).

It is no surprise, then, when we take this pattern into the pulpit and preach law (standard, perfection) to our people. I've seen long-time ministers do this and as well as newbie ministers (hence, disagreeing with Carl's basic premise). The "solution" to this is to turn from the law to Gospel: to learn new, gracious patterns of dealing with ourselves spiritually, which will in turn lead to new patterns of dealing with our people ministerially. To put it differently, the solution is to root ourselves, our own spiritual lives, in the Gospel of God's passionate love and abudant grace.

For me, one of the breakthrough, aha moments was reading Bryan Chapell's Holiness by Grace a couple of years ago. Learning to rethink my own patterns in the light of what is true about me (I am united to Christ, right with God, holy in his Son, a beloved child, and glorified already) has given me courage to deal with the remaining corruption in my heart as well as produced a spiritual compassion for the weakness and sins of others that I hope comes out in my preaching and pastoral care. Still, learning new patterns is difficult--I take heart from the fact that Rose Marie Miller's journey in learning to deal graciously with herself took ten years.

In the end, I continue to remember that it is by God's grace that I stand (not by my continuing commitment to the law); this alone can give me confidence and assurance for life and ministry and, ultimately, death (cf. Romans 5:1-5).

Thoughts on Reading

This was a thought-provoking post on how to order one's reading life. Having seen Dr. Mohler's personal library, I can attest that he is a preacher who loves his books. While I don't have quite the library he does, I too can't remember a time when I wasn't buried in a book. Here are some of thoughts I had about reading:

1. Read deeply. I have a couple of interest areas in which I read everything I can: Jonathan Edwards, American Presbyterianism, American Civil War, and Wendell Berry. Then there are a couple of other areas in which I read fairly widely: John Calvin, Karl Barth, and Stanley Hauerwas. By reading deeply in selected areas, it enables me to reflect and think within a particular tradition.

2. Read widely. At the same time, it is important to sample widely--for me that means reading outside my discipline (and so reading biblical scholars like N. T. Wright or Pete Enns) as well as reading fiction or other historical time periods.

3. Read joyfully. I always read for enjoyment--if I don't like a book, I won't read very far into it. I don't feel obligated, because I spend money on a book, to finish it. I believe that it is the author's responsibility to help me enjoy what I am reading, but if he doesn't, I will move on to something else that I might take joy in. That doesn't mean I agree with what I read; but it does mean that I enjoy engaging an author's thoughts.

4. Read critically. It is important to think while you read. I feel like I am having a conversation with the author as I read, which is why I write in the margins, highlight, and mutter to myself and the author while I read books.

The Spiritual Dangers of Blogging

This is an insightful comment from a leading administrator at the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary. It would have been even more useful, though, to think about the larger cultural-spiritual ramifications of the "blogosphere" and what this new medium does to spiritual leadership and authority.

What appears to be happening is similar to the sea-change that happened in the mid-eighteenth century. Before the appearance of George Whitefield and his use of print media and itinerant ministry, spiritual leadership was tied to the cultural patterns of place, kinship, education, and wealth. With Whitefield (and other itinerants), cultural authority shifted to those who could maximize the new media; the result was the overturning of authority. [There are a number of books that talk about this: among the best are Harry Stout's The Divine Dramatist and Timothy Hall's Contested Boundaries]

A similar thing is happening now. The internet and blogosphere are reshaping cultural authority in ways that are discomfiting to those in traditional places of leadership (especially, religious leadership--hence, pastors, seminary and denominational administrators, etc.). While this medium has tremendous possibilities for interaction with others on a global scale, it also can be used to promote prejudice, gossip, salaciousness, slander and other spiritual maladies.

The answer, it seems to me, is not only to name the potential vices, as Dr. Moore has done well, but to model the possibilities that these new viritual communities can bring about. In addition, if theological reflectiton is going to be done in this fashion in the future, then religious and denominational leaders also need to think through the ramifications of doing viritual theology. After all, the internet can be a powerful tool for "real-time" interaction and reflection; but it can also bring out the remaining sinfulness or foolness in all of us.

I think it is also necessary to reconsider what "spiritual authority" looks like in this brave new world. Traditional ways of exercising influence--seminary leadership, books and radio, denominational involvement, church leadership through Word and Sacrament--all will continue to be important. But there needs to be a recognition that, in the future, influence will be exercised for good and for ill in other ways. Thinking through what that means and looks like will be a major issue for 30-somthing leaders in traditional institutions for the future.

Answer, No. 1

Luther, Bondage of the Will, LW 33:43.

Question, No. 1: Luther or Calvin?

In preparing lectures for my Reformation and Modern Church History class, I came across this quote:

Therefore, Christian faith is entirely extinguished, the promises of God and the whole gospel are completely destroyed, if we teach and believe that it is not for us to know the necessary foreknowledge of God and the necessity of the things that are to come to pass. For this is the one supreme consolation of Christians in all adversities, to know that God does not lie, but does all things immutably, and that his will can neither be resisted nor changed nor hindered.

Is this Calvin or Luther? (Answer tomorrow)

The Curse of Lucas

As I am still recovering from the Indianapolis Colts' demise and putting up with my Steeler friends, it struck me this morning a fresh that I really am to blame for the Colts loss. It wasn't Peyton Manning, Tony Dungy, or Mike Vanderjagt--it was me. Whenever I follow a team closely as my own, it brings a curse that is hard to shake.

These are the last times that teams I've followed won championships:

• Baseball: Atlanta Braves, 1995 (I've subsequently switched to the St. Louis Cardinals, which explains that last two years)
• Pro Football: Washington Redskins, 1991 (I switched to the Colts in 1999)
• College Basketball: Indiana Hoosiers, 1987 (my heart was broken in 1983 when Pi Slamma Jamma lost to NC State, and switched the following year when IU beat UNC in the Sweet Sixteen)
• College Football: Penn St. Nittany Lions, 1985 (although we got jobbed by Nebraska in 1995)
• Pro Basketball: never (my teams have only made the finals three times my entire life--Houston in 1981 and 1986; Indiana in 2000. I stopped following the Rockets in time for them to win two championships in the early 1990s)

So, if you follow one of these teams, I deeply apologize--it is my fault. It is the "Curse of Lucas."

Bro. Bailey

Since he gave me such kind words here, it is a great joy to return the favor. Richard Bailey is a good friend of mine, finishing his Ph.D. in history at the University of Kentucky. He co-edited a wonderful collection of sermons by Jonathan Edwards, The Salvation of Souls (Crossway, 2003), and contributed an essay to The Leagcy of Jonathan Edwards. And I look forward to reading his dissertation on race and religion in colonial New England in its full and published form soon. But above all, Richard is unfailingly thoughtful and kind; and he blesses me both as his friend and as a colleague.

Paul and Timothy's Opponents at Ephesus, No. 2

I mentioned previously that I am preaching through 1 Timothy at Covenant Presbyterian Church here in St. Louis. My main commentary is William Mounce's wonderful commentary on the Pastoral Epistles for the Word Biblical Commentary series. In his explanation section on 1 Timothy 1:3-7, he writes:

Certain people were teaching a gospel that was essentially different from Paul's. Leaders in the church were teaching myths they had created based on OT genealogies. Not only were they in error theologically, but their lifestyle was also wrong. Rather than exercising their responsibilities in the church as good stewards of God through faith, they were producing nothing except mere speculation. The goal of Timothy's command--that the false teachers stop teaching--was love. Not only was love absent in the opponent's lives, but Timothy needed to maintain love as the goal of his teaching and behavior as well. Paul's opponents had made a moral choice to set aside cleansed hearts, clear consciences, and a sincere faith. Their problem was not intellectual, but moral, and their behavior was a direct result and a clear indicator of their immorality. But Paul's emphasis on their behavior did not mean that their theology was acceptable. Along with being immoral, they were charged with being ignorant of what they were dogmatically teaching (Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, p.
29).

This is so striking in so many ways. It reminds me of a number of genuine believers whom I have known who get off track by searching for some "new" approach to the Bible, especially the OT. They latch on to a way of interpreting Scripture (usually emphasizing allegory) and they elevate certain portions (especially the moral and civil portions of OT law) out of portion.

But at the same time these brothers and sisters are elevating the law, they demonstrate an amazing loss of moral centeredness--they cheat and connive, they lie and dissemble, they refuse to deal with sins in their own families, they slander, they are angry and use angry, sarcastic, biting words. In short, as Mounce notes, these Christians failed to realize that the center of Christianity is not law, but love--for God who has come to us by Christ through the Spirit and has redeemed us so that we might love one another (cf. Gal. 5:13-15).

I've always wondered how this was possible--that those who claim to love God's law can fail so utterly to love God's people. But Mounce, I think, gets it right--these people that I had known "had made a moral choice to set aside cleansed hearts, clear consciences, and a sincere faith." It was far easier to elevate the OT law and to speculate about biblical texts in an abstract fashion than to love brothers and sisters who are so different, who fail so often, and who must be viewed through God's grace.

And yet, by making this choice, either their own faith ends up shipwrecked or the faith of others is. And this can only do incredible harm to the Gospel and its cause in the world (1 Tim. 3:15).

What if the Reformation never happened? part three

Note: This is the final section of the essay. For the occasions where it was delivered, please see the note at part one.

3. Above all, the Gospel of free grace would have continued to be shadowed behind the unreformed ritual and malformed theology of the Roman Catholic church.

Due to the decision of the Council of Orange in 529, the church had committed itself to a moderate Augustinian perspective on salvation. That is, while affirming Augustine’s emphasis upon the sovereignty of God’s grace and the utter depravity of humankind, the council hedged on the doctrine of predestination. After that, theologians in the history of the church sought to give more and more freedom and responsibility to human beings. By the time the fifteenth century came to an end, there was a form of covenant theology as articulated by theologians of the via moderna, summarized in the phrase, “God will not deny his grace to anyone who does what lies within them.” Ultimately, that meant doing good, especially, being baptized and participating in the sacrament of penance, and shunning evil. Penance became a key part of the Catholic means of gaining assurance of forgiveness and pardon. This penitential system was typically quite rigorous, provided only temporary relief with conditions attached. At least part of the reason for this was that the “effective removal of religious guilt and anxiety this side of eternity would have meant the end of medieval religious institutions.”

Of course, Luther’s Reformational discovery, that God’s righteousness shall come to those who live by faith, fundamentally threatened the basis of medieval religion and piety. If salvation came by faith alone in Christ alone, and if this provided an effective removal of religious guilt and anxiety, then the forms of penance that had proved so financially profitable for the church (particularly, indulgences) were not only unnecessary, but blasphemous. And yet, Luther’s discovery was actually a recovery of Augustinianism, articulated for the church at the Council of Orange—for this justification, this righteousness, could only come by faith which was granted by God through his sovereign grace.

But if this recovery of the Gospel had not occurred at that point, if the Reformation had not happened, then we would not be here in this church. If we went to church at all, we would still be observing the Mass, perhaps slightly revised by Vatican II (perhaps not, since there probably would not have been a Vatican II). We would still be observing an intense penitential system, seeking forgiveness and yet resigned to the fact that we would never fully know forgiveness in this life. The church as a whole would still carry the same fuzziness on how someone was right with God that characterized it before the sixteenth century Council of Trent, for without the Reformation there would have not been a Counter or Catholic Reformation or a Jesuit movement. Not only would the church have become irrelevant due to its corruption, but it would have been irrelevant pre-eminently due to its doctrine. In answer to the question, “What must I do to be saved?” the church still would answer, “Have you ever thought about lighting a votive, sponsoring a mass, or making a pilgrimage?”

The sheer fact that there are millions of Protestant Christians throughout the past five hundred years that have known peace with God having been justified by faith alone demonstrates that the Reformation was a vitally important reality, which transformed individuals, households, cities, and nation-states. While, perhaps, it may not have had the importance to modernity that some historians have claimed, it is undeniable that the Reformation was a genuinely significant event. In a recent brilliant social history of Calvinism by historian Philip Benedict, he observed that “the story of the establishment and defense of Europe’s various Reformed churches is fundamental to the history of the late sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.” The reason for this was that for that time, “it made a difference in people’s life experience whether they were raised as Lutherans, Reformed, or Catholics.” The Reformation made a difference in piety and worship, culture and politics. It continues to make a difference in our lives today, as evident in the worship of this Reformation church and in the profoundly good news that we are right with God by faith in Jesus. To tell the story as though the Reformation never happened or was insignificant to the story of early modern Europe and all that came after is to fail to tell the story at all.

Harry Stout's Upon the Altar of the Nation

I was the first person to buy this book today at the Creve Couer, Mo., Borders; they had to go into the backroom to get it. I can't wait to read it and review it. Checking the Dabney references, I found a couple of footnoting and other mistakes, which is a little worrisome for the rest of the book. Still, this will be a major and important work by one of the most prominent evangelical historians.

What if the Reformation never happened? part two

2. Left unchecked by the church, the rising capitalists of Europe would have led the secularization process with disastrous effects for the political and moral situation of the continent.

Most of you have undoubtedly heard or even used the phrase, “the Protestant (or puritan) work ethic.” That phrase is generally associated with the work of sociologist Max Weber’s The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism (1930). Weber argued that the modern period, which he dated back to the Reformation, represented the coalescence of two powerful forces to create an ethic and ethos; those two forces were Calvinism and capitalism. And for Weber, “capitalism was the social counterpart of Calvinist theology.” Appealing to the idea of vocation, Weber argued that Calvinist theology held a calling not to be “a condition in which the individual is born, but a strenuous and exacting enterprise to be chosen by himself and to be pursued with a sense of religious responsibility.” As a result, mercantile business, “once regarded as perilous to the soul,” now had a spiritual purpose, and the pursuit of riches, once feared as an enemy to religion, now was an ally to spiritual growth.

While Weber’s thesis has been subjected to withering critiques and spirited rejoinders, one historical fact from the period is the rising European middle class, connected to the rise of capitalism, who united with the Reformers to topple oppressive popes and priests, and eventually in the seventeenth century monarchs. The sixteenth century itself was a period of incredible population growth, increasing overall from 60 to 85 million people. This population moved to the cities throughout the century: in 1500, only five cities could claim 100,000 people, but by the end of the century at least a dozen could do so. These cities became centers for change, the place where bankers, skilled artisans, and scholars partnered with merchants in order to challenge the prevailing elite.

This was particularly the case in Calvin’s Geneva. As Alister McGrath noted in his wonderful biography of John Calvin, Geneva transitioned from older style capitalism to a more modern form of capitalism at precisely the time that the city achieved independence and Calvin’s reforms were taking shape. After a period of economic recession in 1535 to 1540, the city-state experienced a twenty year period of growth that coincided with the decision to invite Calvin to return to the city in order to reinaugurate and further the Reformation there. To be sure, McGrath is careful to stress that the association of capitalism and Calvinism in Geneva was “largely accidental; there is no necessary historical or ideological connection between them,” in terms of causation. Yet one could make the argument that while Calvinism may not have caused capitalism, it certainly did much to restrain it and to make it more compassionate.

The chief example of this compassionate capitalism, if one could speak of such a thing, was the social welfare movement that Calvin promoted in Geneva. The outpouring of benevolence, directed through the churches, into a central “general hospital” for the care of the poor and sick, helped to soften the increasing displacement caused by population growth, war, plague, and famine. This hospital employed deacons directly in the disbursement of funds and in caring for the poor and sick, creating a “hospital” movement throughout Reformed countries. Eventually, these hospitals devoted themselves to caring for the sick alone, but they were part of Calvin’s vision of a word and deed ministry in Geneva. This care for the suffering was also part of Calvin’s rationale for encouraging the development of wealth. Riches were not to be spent on oneself in luxurious wastefulness, but distributed for the furtherance of God’s kingdom. In order to encourage this, the city-state of Geneva organized general collections, either to meet some especial crisis or to aid refugees within its borders. By caring for the poor compassionately, Calvin’s Geneva restrained some of the selfishness inherent in the capitalist economic system.

But imagine if there were no Reformation Geneva, or indeed any relevant church to check, channel, and challenge capitalist aspirations. The scenes of eighteenth century France or nineteenth century England, with the marked division between elites and the poor; the boiling ferment on the streets ready to explode at any moment in revolution; and the ever-ready possibility of a Napoleon or Bismarck to unite the nations under his nationalistic banner—all of these would have been present much earlier, without the charitable and compassionate works that Protestantism offered in Germany or England.

Indeed, it would not be too much to claim that the political structures of Europe, which emphasized the divine rights of kings and continuity of royal families, would crumble against the rising popular tide—as they actually did in seventeenth century England and more generally in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries—only to be replaced with figures much worse than a Cromwell or Napoleon. At least, with Cromwell, he attempted to be regulated by Scripture and divine providence, though it sometimes led him in strange directions. No, the figures that would have emerged in a world without Protestantism would have looked much more like Mussolini, Stalin, or Kim Jong-Il—amoral dictators seeking to unite the populace in a pagan devotion to the state, financed by a rising upper class that received special favors.

Dabney Review: New Horizons

This generous review appeared in the December 2005 New Horizons, the magazine of the OPC. I am gratified that it has made it on the web.

Post on Writers Read

For those who are interested, I just posted a review of Phillip Gura's Jonathan Edwards: America's Evangelical (2005) at Writers Read.

What if the Reformation never happened? part 1

Note: This was a Reformation Day address that I gave twice: once at a 2003 Reformation Day conference hosted by Community Presbyterian Church (PCA), Louisville, Ky., and again at a 2004 Reformation Day service hosted by Illiana Presbytery in Waterloo, Ill. A shortened version of it will appear in chap. 9 of On Being Presbyterian.

My question this evening that I would like to explore with you is, “What if the Reformation never happened?” To understand why this question is attractive, you have to understand historians. We are not like engineers, who would say, “Well, this is a silly question. Of course, the Reformation happened; not much point in thinking about it not happening since it did. Let’s get on with something truly productive!” Historians, or those with a natural bent toward thinking about history, love what are called “counterfactuals.” A counterfactual is literally something that is contrary to fact; but for a historian, it is the opportunity to wonder, speculate, and dream. We get to play Monday Morning Quarterback on the span and sweep of history, by asking, “What if?” Indeed, an book published in 2000 was devoted to the topic, entitled Virtual History: Alternatives and Counterfactuals. What if Constantine does not have his famous “In this sign, conquer” dream? What if Jonathan Edwards had survived his small pox inoculation? What if Great Britain changed their mind on the whole problem of representation and admitted colonial members of parliament in the 1760s? What if Stonewall Jackson had let someone else reconnoiter the lines at Chancellorsville? What if Germany had invaded Great Britain in 1940? What if the Reformation had never happened?

Asking the question is not as far fetched as it may seem for many of you. In a 2003 essay in the journal Church History, Duke University professor Hans Hillerbrand took up the question, “Was there a Reformation in the sixteenth century?” Recent scholarship has argued that the periods directly preceding and succeeding the Reformation period of 1500 to 1550 were “more powerful, effecting more lasting change, and entailing more profound social significance.” The result has been that “the Reformation as an event of exciting discontinuity and innovation lost its credibility.” Instead, contemporary scholars have proposed a model that suggests viewing the Reformation as “part of a broader societal development that, beginning with the fourteenth century, modified and changed the medieval synthesis.”

While there is something undoubtedly true about this thesis—for all would admit that Reformation theologians and leaders did operate within the sphere of medieval intellectual thought forms and political arrangements—this thesis ultimately minimizes the basic understanding that Protestants have cherished about the Reformation for almost five hundred years, namely, that during the period we call the Reformation, a significant group of men and women came to the discovery, or perhaps better recovery, of the Gospel of free justification, which had been generally lost in the medieval church and culture. This group protested (hence, became Protestants) the movement of the Catholic church away from the Gospel as contained in Scripture, eventually breaking away from that church to form new church connections that sought to honor the principle of Scripture alone in the development of church polity, worship, doctrine, and ethics. And these Protestants were able to claim the allegiance of a significant number of cities, towns, and eventually states and countries, which joined in the process of reforming church and state in differing degrees in line with sola Scriptura.

Perhaps, then, one way of demonstrating the genuine significance of the Reformation event is to pose the question we have already suggested: what if the Reformation never happened? What would the church and the people’s religious practices have looked like? What would have characterized society and its culture? What would the future have held for those countries that did embrace the Reformation and those countries not yet born? I would suggest several things.

1. The Roman Catholic Church would have secularized completely and become largely irrelevant to European politics and culture by the seventeenth century.

Many folks “know” that the Roman Catholic Church was corrupt when Martin Luther nailed his famous theses to the Wittenburg Church door. But many are probably unaware how pervasive the corruption was and how unstable the church had become. After the papacy of Innocent III (1198-1216), the rule of Rome suffered serious setbacks. Eventually, in 1378, rival popes were set up, one in Rome (Urban VI) and the other in Avignon, France (Clement VII); these rival popes divided the Catholic nations, with England and its allies supporting Urban and France and its supporters following Clement. The divided papacy was the result of political pressures and patronage from the French king and Italian lords; money and power were at the base. Attempts at resolving the division through the conciliar movement only created more confusion. The Council of Pisa, in 1409, declared both Urban and Clement to be heretical, deposed them, and elected a third pope, Alexander V. Thus, approximately one hundred years before Martin Luther, the Corpus Christendom was a divided body, a three-headed monster, which demanded address.

Eventually, the church did rectify the political problem that it had created. Ironically, it was able to do so by virtue of some “forerunners of the Reformation” alerting them of the danger these divisions were causing among the populous. John Huss of Bohemia (what is now the Czech republic) and John Wyclif of England were both agitating for wide-ranging reforms in the church, including translating Scripture into the vernacular languages and returning communion in both kinds to the laity. In 1414, the Council of Constance was called to deal firmly with these rebel movements. Along the way, they also dealt with the rebel popes, reuniting the church under Martin V in 1417. But the discontent signaled by Huss and Wycliff continued to bubble under the surface of the church’s renewed calm exterior.

What made this so problematic for lay people was the rising level of spiritual anxiety that characterized the fifteenth century. Evidenced not only by the Hussite and Wycliff rebellions but also by the pervasive attachment to magic and primal religious forces, devout church people longed to believe. This spiritual anxiety was typified in the baptismal ritual of the fifteenth century, which were dominated by exorcisms of various types. As liturgical scholar Hughes Oliphant Old noted, “The whole [baptismal] service gave the impression of being a long series of exorcisms concluded by a baptism.” With this pervasive belief in devils, witches, and other oppositional forces, coupled together with the transforming political and economic culture at the beginning of the sixteenth century, lay people were looking to the church for answers. Yet due to its moral and political corruption, the church was unable to respond effectively to the challenge. To be sure, many laypeople continued on in their devotion to the rituals of the church, without worrying about the developing crisis in that body. Yet there was a growing anticlericalism and a developing sense among some about the church’s irrelevance.

All of these factors—ecclesiastical, political, and psychological--contributed to the rise of the Reformation as a powerful religious, political, and cultural movement. But if the Reformation never happened, it would be conceivable that this state of affairs would have continued. Of course, there would be continued attempts within the church to reform. However, as historian Euan Cameron has suggested, most of the avenues for reform had been attempted by 1500. Internal reform was limited by the sheer size and complexity of the church’s bureaucracy. As a result, it is entirely conceivable that without the Reformation, the church would have caved in on itself and rendered itself irrelevant.

Though it may have become irrelevant before the seventeenth century, certainly by that time, a corrupted church, unwilling to bear reform and unable to be reformed, would no longer have commanded the respect and attention of European society. The Enlightenment age, with its exaltation of reason over revelation and the “superstitions” of the age, would have ignored the church and its claims. In particular, the challenge of Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679) and his Levithan, which argued for a thoroughgoing materialism and utilitarian political rule based on that reality with total allegiance given to the state, would have been unanswerable—for centuries, the church had pursued that same strategy as popes maximized their profits and pleasures under the banner of “might makes right.” Any protest lodged by the church against Enlightenment thought would have been met with a scoff and shrug. Without the Reformation, there would have been a thoroughly secular Europe by the end of the seventeenth century.

Most "Influential" Christians

This list of the "top 50 most influential Christians" is interesting, less as a genuine guide for influence (many of these people are TV media types, hence explaining their influence) and more as a reflection of who is "Christian." For example, I didn't realize that some of these people would self-identify as "Christians"--especially, Dr. Phil and Sean Hannity.

Still, in terms of a simple ranking, how in the world is John Piper (#24) and Rob Bell (pastor, Mars Hill Church, outside of Grand Rapids, MI; #25) ranked ahead of Pope Benedict XVI (#44)? I would think that the 1 billion Roman Catholics worldwide would disagree! And even before he became pope, Ratzinger was hugely influential in the life of the Roman Catholic Church.

HT: Mark Horne

Preachers and Preaching

This is a wonderfully insightful brief interview with Bryan Chapell on preaching. It is a nice single-place to find a number of Bryan's insights and concerns.

Pain, suffering, gnashing teeth...

...caused by this. Peyton Manning is the Dan Marino of our generation, the league's most talented QB who fails to win the big one. And Ben Roethlisberger is this generation's Terry Bradshaw, a limited QB who will have mutliple opportunities to win.

Meditation on Communion

Note: This is the rest of what was said nearly two years ago. In it, I tried to explain what Larger Catechism, Qs 176-7, mean and especially how to distinguish between the participants in baptism and Supper. I still believe this provides a good explaination of what the catechism and our Book of Church Order teaches.

Lord's Supper
Since we have these two sacraments together, indeed side-by-side, it is a good time to ask the questions: how are baptism and the Lord's Supper similar? And how are they different?

Our Larger Catechism (Q. 176) teaches us that baptism and the Supper are similar in several ways. First, God is the author of both. The focus of both is Christ and his benefits. Both are seals of the same covenant, the same promises. Each is to be done by ordained ministers of the gospel and by none other. And each is to be continued in the church until the end of the age.

But the next question (Q. 177) spells out how these two are different. Some of the differences are obvious, or at least, should be. Baptism happens, or should happen, only once in a person's life; the Lord's Supper is to be administered often, in our church on the second and last Sundays of the month. Baptism uses water; the Supper uses bread and wine.

But other differences are more important. The Catechism says that baptism is a "sign and seal of our regeneration and ingrafting into Christ," a grace that is conferred in God's appointed time and that evidences itself in a full-hearted turn to Christ as Savior and Lord. The Lord's Supper, on the other hand, is received those who have already begun the journey of faith, "to confirm our continuance and growth" in Jesus Christ.

Or I could put it like this. Remember I said that baptism is like a road sign, a royal seal, and a jersey that marks the baptized on a different team. That last descriptor is important here. Baptism initiates our children into the visible people of God, into the church people, and into the care of the church and all the benefits that brings. But the Lord's Supper has a different focus; it serves to assure our hearts that as surely as we partake of bread and wine, so surely did Christ die for our sins.

As a result, our Larger Catechism teaches us that baptism is rightly administered "even to infants," as we have just done. Because they belong to our households of faith, they should belong in a visible way to THE household of faith; and baptism initiates them into God's visible people. But the Catechism also teaches us that the Supper is to be administered "only to such as are of years and ability to examine themselves." The emphasis here is not upon adult-only communion but on professing believers-only communion. Our catechism "presumes" that infants or toddlers cannot examine themselves of "their being in Christ" (LC 172), that is, to recognize their sinfulness and turn to faith in Jesus Christ. As a result, our church does not admit children to the table that have not made a profession of faith; not because they are children, but because faith in Jesus Christ is required for a worthy reception of the Supper.

Does this mean that our children are somehow second-class citizens in the church because they don't receive the Supper? That somehow they are "excommunicated" because they "barred from the table"? By no means. First of all, our children receive wonderful privileges as members of God's visible people, being identified with the baptized team: the weekly preaching of God's Word; the oversight of the elders and the nurture of God's people; and the safety of being in the place where God's promises are regularly fulfilled.

But also, we must recognize that our PCA Book of Church Order instructs us to invite all who are not participating in the Supper to remain. We don't typically do so, simply because we "presume" that no one will leave before the service is over. But the instruction is still important: there is great value in this meal for those who do not partake: the Word, indeed the Gospel of Jesus' body and blood shed for sinners, is proclaimed, both verbally by the minister and in the sign itself, Isn't that what Paul tells us, that in this meal "you proclaim the Lord's death until he comes"?

As parents, we should be telling, we should be catechizing, our children in a whisper as the elements pass, "Little one, what does the broken bread teach us?" "That Jesus in his life in the body gained a perfect righteousness for his people. That Jesus' bodily life was pointed to the cross where he died for sinners like me, Daddy."

"Sweetheart, what does the poured out wine teach us?""That Jesus shed his blood on the cross for sinners like me, and without the shedding of blood there is no remission of sins, Daddy."

"My child, what is necessary to gain right standing with God and to have your sins forgiven?""Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and you shall be saved, Daddy."

That, my friends, is the proper grounds for your participation in this meal this morning. If you have confessed your faith in Jesus Christ and are a member either of this particular church or another evangelical church, we invite you to come to this meal. This meal is for professing believers who recognize that together we proclaim Christ's death until he comes.

Writer's Read

I've joined this new blog written by writers who read (hence, the clever title). Most of the folks are related to Covenant Seminary, in one way or another. It should be fun. You can see my first entry here.

If you don't like the weather...

...in St. Louis, then wait a day. Yesterday, high was 63, beautiful sunshine. Today, high is 37, with blowing snow and biting wind. Monday, they are calling for a high of 57 with sunshine again. Yikes! Is it any wonder that tons of people in my church and seminary are sick right now?

Hopeful Sign

As someone who graduated from a fundamentalist university and who studies the history of American religion in the 19th and 20th centuries, this is a hopeful sign.

A Nation Under God?

This is a strange article (John Sugg, "A Nation Under God," Mother Jones, Dec/Jan 2006). It was strange because the writer defined "Christian Reconstructionism" as "an obscure but increasingly potent theology was top exponents hold that Christian crusaders must conquer and convert the world, by the sword if necessary, before Jesus will return" and then attributed this belief to "the conservative Presbyterian Church in America."

But the article took Gary DeMar's (and Gary North and Rousas Rushdoony's) views and imputed them to an entire denomination. That would be the same as saying that Al Sharpton represents all African-American Christians--it would be taking someone who is largely discredited and marginalized by the group's mainstream in order to characterize an entire religious organization. I frankly find it irresponsible.

Another thing about the article that was very strange was the amount of breathless hand-wringing and outlandish finger-pointing--"in this world view, the mandate for Christians is not just to live right or to help their neighbors: they are called upon to take over or eliminate the institutions of secular government." What? Even the theonomists that I know wouldn't claim that--they recognize that government is necessary. What they want is "Christian" government that obeys God's law. And as wrong-headed as I think their position is, it is a long way off from what this article presents.

There are a number of conservative Presbyterians who desire to live their lives in accordance with 1 Thessalonians 4:10b-12: "But we urge you, brothers, to do this more and more, and to aspire to live quietly, and to mind your own affairs, and to work with your hands, as we instructed you, so that you may live properly before outsiders and be dependent on no one." It is sad that this article wrongly identified my denomination with a fringe group and failed to recognize the vast number of us who seek to live in the light of this peaceful and peace-filled way.

HT: Dominic Aquila's By Faith e-letter

Meditation on Baptism

Note: I gave this meditation about two years ago when my youngest son was baptized. I still like what I said then and still think it is a helpful way of thinking and talking about the issues around children, baptism, and the Lord's Supper. This is the first part; perhaps I'll post the second part, on the Supper, later. Both parts of the meditation were eventually published on the PCANews website.

Baptism
We have a great joy today, to have both sacraments in our worship. And I have great joy today, to participate in both, as my son is baptized and as we as God's people come to the table. It is in my role, though, as an officer of the church that I want us to think through what we are doing here this morning. Why are we going to baptize? And what are we doing when we baptize?

Well, we baptize because we believe God in Christ has commanded us to do so. "Therefore go and make disciples of all nations," Christ said, "baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you" (Matthew 28:19-20).

All Christians agree on this; all Christians agree that God has commanded us to baptize with "one baptism" (Ephesians 4:5). But we would go further and say that we are baptizing a child because God in Christ has commanded us to do so, starting in Genesis in Abraham's household circumcision and continuing on in Acts in Lydia and the Philippian jailer's household baptism.

In addition, we baptize our children because God has made promises to us to be a God to our children and us and to set apart our children for his holy purposes. Baptism is a sign and seal of these promises. Baptism is like a big road sign that points our children onto the proper path of faith in Jesus Christ. It is like a royal seal on a royal proclamation promising salvific benefit to those who believe in Jesus. It is like a jersey that identifies, that marks, the baptized on a different team from the world.

Now, there are those who say that we baptize because we presume that our children are regenerate, born again. If we don't presume regeneration, we are told, then, we are presuming that our children are pagan. Is this true? Do we, do I, in fact, presume that Benjamin is born again and thus should receive baptism? No, I don't. Does this mean that I presume he is pagan? No, I don't go that way either. I don't presume anything. Rather, we trust in God's promise to be a God to our children and to us; we train our children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, catechizing them in our most holy faith; and we leave the question of his current spiritual estate open, safely in the Lord's hands for "the Lord knows those who are his" (2 Timothy 2:19; cf. Numbers 16:5).

Someday, hopefully sooner rather than later, Benjamin, along with our other children, will make a profession of faith. Lord willing, he will confess that he is a sinner, deserving God's wrath. He will confess that he has no resources in himself to stand in the day of God's judgment; all his works are filthy rags before a holy God. He will repent of his sins and his innate rebellion against God and he will turn in faith to Jesus Christ, trusting in his blood and righteousness alone for salvation. Then, he will come before the session, and he will have his faith examined, and he will be admitted as a communicant member of this church.

If, when, that happens, what can we say? We can say that "the grace promised" in his baptism, the grace "really exhibited" in his baptism, that grace was "conferred…in God's appointed time" in the work of God's Word and Spirit. In that day, baptism as a road sign that points Benjamin to Christ was effectual. In that day, baptism as a royal seal of God's gospel promises of Christ and his benefits to Benjamin have come to fruition. In that day, as Benjamin clings to Christ by faith, then all that baptism points to and guarantees—ingrafting into Christ, regeneration, remission of sins, newness of life—it will all be his.

But why? Because somehow this water was magical? Because these words were just right, a hocus pocus that caused grace to happen? Because Sara and I have enough faith or because we did everything right as parents? No—this will happen, Lord willing, as God by his grace keeps his promises for his own glory.

But what if the worst happens? What if, God forbid, Benjamin grows up and goes to college and walks away from the church and does not claim God's promise of salvation in Christ for his own? Is baptism pointless? Has God failed? I would say, no and no. Baptism is not pointless; indeed, "it [is] a great sin to condemn or neglect this ordinance." God tells us to do this; God has his purposes in this sign. In addition, we don't know the end of the story. Hopefully, Benjamin will out live Sara and myself; and as long as he lives, God's promise in the Gospel will be held out to him.

But would God's promise be ineffective if Benjamin does not own Christ someday? Not at all. There are mysteries of God's purposes in play, certainly; after all, both Ishmael and Isaac were circumcised; both Esau and Jacob. Simon the Sorcerer was baptized. Baptism neither ties God down nor are his purposes frustrated; it can be a sign of judgment as well as a sign of grace.

As a church officer and a parent, I pray that Benjamin's baptism today will be a sign of God's grace to him "in God's appointed time." That the Spirit baptism which this water baptism signifies will spiritually wash him and will make him part of God's true people, the true children of Abraham, in that day when he embraces Christ by faith. And I pray that each of our baptisms will be fruitful for us in a similar way as we improve them during this time for God's glory.

Second Sigh

More of a sigh of relief--grades for the fall semester are done and off to the registrar. Now it is on to editing the print out of On Being Presbyterian for P&R. It is due back to the publisher by January 23.

Sigh

As an Indiana University basketball fan, sighing is the only way to respond to this.

Van Lear Rose

Three words: Loretta Lynn rocks. If you haven't heard Van Lear Rose (2004), then you have missed one of the great albums in recent memory. Lynn pairs with Jack White of The White Stripes to borrow a play from Johnny Cash's playbook--work with a young rock star who understands and appreciates the country tradition. The result is a great, great album.

Great Idea

Here is a great idea! Do what this Free Church of Scotland congregation did: Make my biography of Dabney your next read for a book-of-the-month club!

The Challenge of Christian Community

It is little secret to anyone paying attention to the American religious scene that the new hip theme dominating all our conversations revolves around the word “community.” Whatever that word stands for, we want it.

We want authentic community. We want intergenerational community. We want grace-centered community. We want service-oriented community.

We want these things, we say. We are tired, we say, of the days of Christians living their individual lives, as separated atoms bouncing off one another, creating friction some times, creating fusion at other times.

We want to live our lives together. We say this. We think that we mean this. Or do we?

It strikes me that often we say we want Christian community, but what we really want is an idealized daydream of community. We want people who will look like us, think like us, do as we do. We want others in our community who raise their children the same way, listen to the same music, watch the same movies. Our idealized image includes only those who vote the way we do, are passionate about our passions, and see the world in the same way.

Part of the problem, though, is that we don’t see the world the same way. By the very nature of the case, we are as different as snow flakes—our life stories shape us in vastly different ways.

As a result, when someone else thinks differently or acts differently, we become disillusioned with community and we isolate ourselves from life together.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, in his classic little book Life Together, observed that

A community that cannot bear and cannot survive such disillusionment, clinging instead to its idealized image, when that should be done away with, loses at the same time the promise of a durable Christianity community. Sooner or later it is bound to collapse. Every human idealized image that is brought into the Christian community is a hindrance to genuine community and must be broken up so that genuine community can survive. Those who love their dream of a Christian community more than the Christian community itself become destroyers of that Christian community even though their personal intentions may be ever so honest, earnest, and sacrificial (Bonhoeffer, Life Together, DBW, 5:35-6).

The answer is not to posit a daydream, idealized community; the answer is to center our community on the basic realities of Christian faith and the basic demands of Christian practice.

Paul and Timothy's Opponents in Ephesus

I am preparing to preach on 1 Timothy this spring at Covenant Presbyterian Church, St. Louis, Mo. Reading William Mounce's excellent commentary on the Pastoral Epistles, he has a thought-provoking paragraph:

Spicq gives an excellent summary of [Paul and Timothy's] opponents. He describes the opponents as dialecticians, Jewish converts who still baseed their teaching on the OT but did so in a way that did not respect the facts or the truth. They played mind games and became lost in endless and inextricable subtleties (1 Tim. 1:4). The same apostle who told the Corinthians "not to go beyond what is written" (1 Cor. 4:6) here blasts the opponents whose argumentation was more important than facts, reality, and good taste. The opponents were more rhetoricians than they were theologians (Mounce, Pastoral Epstiles,WBC, lxxiii).

This is really quite excellent. Any pastor who has dealt with difficult church people--those who moved away from the centrality of the Gospel to "new insights" or "subtle interpretations"--can recognize them in this comment. And yet, it is striking as well that Paul tells Timothy to deal with these wayward souls gently: "And the Lord's servant must not be quarrelsome but kind to everyone, able to teach, patiently enduring evil, correcting his oppoents with gentleness. God may perhaps grant them repentance leading to a knowledge of the truth, and they may escape from the snare fo the devil, after being caputred by him to do his will" (2 Tim. 2:24-26).

In my experience, that is so hard--it is hard to deal gently with those who engage in ridiculous theological arguments and who lead others off on tangents that appear to be sectarian at best and spiritually dangerous at worst. The only way we can deal gently and pastorally with them is to recognize that we are united to Jesus; that the reaction of others cannot define who we are; and that the sole aim of our ministry "is love that issues from a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith" (1 Tim. 1:5). In other words, to pastor others in this winsome and loving way can only happen by the grace of God.