Tag Archive for 'theology'

Thinking About The Economy

There is one bit of advice given to use by the ancient heathen Greeks, and the the Jews in the Old Testament, and by the great Christian teachers of the Middle Ages, which the modern economic system has completely disobeyed. All these people told us not to lend money at interest; and lending money at interest - what we call investment- is the basis of our whole system.

Now it may not absolutely follow that we are wrong. Some people say that when Moses and Aristotle and the Christians agreed in forbidding interest (or ‘usury’ as they called it), they could not foresee the joint stock company, and were only thinking of the private money lender, and that, therefore, we need not bother about that they said. That is a question I cannot decide on. I am not an economist and I simply do not know whether the investment system is responsible for the state we are in or not. This is where we want the Christian economist. But I should not have been honest if I had not told you that three great civilizations had agreed (or so it seems at first sight) in condemning the very thing on which we have based out whole life.

-C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

By providence I was re-reading some of Mere Christianity last week, and this section is a good place to start a discussion on Christians and the current economic crisis. Christian responses to what has happened are just beginning to appear. The most notable being The Archbishop of Canterbury . Although the ABC throwing Marx into the mix is bound to stir up some controversy, it is encouraging to see discussion on the issue that goes to actual discussion of how the economy should be set up.

I firmly believe that any response Christians give to a crisis must have both an immediate action attached, and a long term consideration of the situation.  Often the Church does the first, but leaves the second.

What do I mean by an immediate action in response to a crisis?   I think the end of It’s A Wonderful Life is a great example. A need is discovered, people rally around and do what they can to bring the person out of the immediate situation. I’ve heard that this has happened in this case with some churches offering counseling to people hit by this, and I have no doubt that when people loose their jobs the church will be there to offer financial support and friendship (If it does not drop the name church please).  Even Starbucks understands the importance of this when right after they were offering free coffee in the morning to people who worked on Wall Street.

What the church likely won’t be as good at, is offering comment on the economic system as a whole.  I don’t mind the church waiting a bit to do this, deal with the immediate concern first, but I fear it just won’t come.  I’m glad the ABC has begun this, but where are the other voices?  The ABC may be an intelligent man, but he is not an economist.  Where are the economists to answer Lewis’ questions?   Where are those from within the Church that can offer comment on how the economic system works?  Where are they advising Christians how far to enter into it?  How much of a role is the sin of greed at fault here and how much was poor decision making?

I think this is yet another example of a place where the church could step up to it’s calling and be involved in bringing God’s kingdom to the world, but instead will choose to continue in irrelevant pursuits (I’m building a growing list). I believe I’ve bemoaned the fact that the church has embraced a dichotomy that separates it from every “non-religious” concern enough that I don’t need to get into why it’s happening or why it’s wrong again, but it still saddens me when I see such an opportunity go to waste.

Forgiveness and the Love of God

Perhaps one of the greatest benefits of Christian is the reconciliation with God that comes as a result of the forgiveness of sin. This forgiveness is made available through Jesus Christ, the perfect, sinless Son of God, who willingly gave his life to redeem mankind for the glory of God. Although he was innocent, he became the substitute for guilty humanity, taking upon himself the retribution for the sins of the whole world to satisfy God’s righteous judgment.

Agape
What, might we ask, is the central motivating force behind the Just dying for the unjust? Was there some redeemable quality in man that God thought was worth saving? The answer is found in John 3:16.

For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.

The primary motivation for God sending Jesus was love. This divine love is the supreme character by which God is defined, the very substance of his being. God, who is love, sent Jesus to die for us while we were still in open rebellion to him (Romans 5:8). In fact, Jesus being driven by God’s love, asked for the forgiveness of those who were crucifying him (Luke 23:33, 34).

More than Forgiven
Notwithstanding the fact that forgiveness is provided to all who receive Christ, believers are more than just forgiven.  Although believers in the Old Testament were able to receive forgiveness, their spiritual nature was not changed. They were only forgiven sinners who had to meet the legal requirement of continual sacrifices to be forgiven again. This is in sharp contrast to the New Covenant – a better covenant based on better promises - in which believers are made new creations in Christ, who by one final sacrifice did not merely cover (atone for) sins, but took them away forever (2 Corinthians 5:17; Hebrews 8:6).  Much of the tenth chapter of Hebrews is devoted to the explanation of this. It is recommended that the reader take time to read the entire chapter, but for now, here is an excerpt:

9then He said, “BEHOLD, I HAVE COME TO DO YOUR WILL.” He takes away the first in order to establish the second. 10By this will we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all.
11Every priest stands daily ministering and offering time after time the same sacrifices, which can never take away sins; 12but He, having offered one sacrifice for sins for all time, SAT DOWN AT THE RIGHT HAND OF GOD, 13waiting from that time onward UNTIL HIS ENEMIES BE MADE A FOOTSTOOL FOR HIS FEET.
14For by one offering He has perfected for all time those who are sanctified.
15And the Holy Spirit also testifies to us; for after saying,

16″THIS IS THE COVENANT THAT I WILL MAKE WITH THEM
AFTER THOSE DAYS, SAYS THE LORD:
I WILL PUT MY LAWS UPON THEIR HEART,
AND ON THEIR MIND I WILL WRITE THEM,”
He then says,
17″AND THEIR SINS AND THEIR LAWLESS DEEDS
I WILL REMEMBER NO MORE.”

18Now where there is forgiveness of these things, there is no longer any offering for sin.

The establishment of the New Covenant carries the added benefit of being born of God’s Spirit, which involves receiving God’s love nature. This signifies the death of the old sin nature and the passage from spiritual death to spiritual life.

3Or do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus have been baptized into His death?  4Therefore we have been buried with Him through baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life.  5For if we have become united with Him in the likeness of His death, certainly we shall also be in the likeness of His resurrection,
6knowing this, that our old self was crucified with Him, in order that our body of sin might be done away with, so that we would no longer be slaves to sin;  7for he who has died is freed from sin.  8Now if we have died with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with Him,  9knowing that Christ, having been raised from the dead, is never to die again; death no longer is master over Him.
10For the death that He died, He died to sin once for all; but the life that He lives, He lives to God.
11Even so consider yourselves to be dead to sin, but alive to God in Christ Jesus.

Continue reading ‘Forgiveness and the Love of God’

Stepping Back - What Is A Sacrament, And Does It Do Away With “Faith Alone”?

About The Series In General
This will be the final entry directly on the subject of sanctifying grace being given in the Lord’s Supper. In past entries we have looked at: The Frequency Of The Lord’s Supper, If The Lord’s Supper Is Magic?, and Calvin’s View Of The Lord’s Supper. In the next few entries we will be turning to other aspects of the Lord’s Supper before moving on to baptism. Today we will examine the objection to the view that sanctifying grace is given in the Lord’s Supper which argues that such a view does away with the Protestant doctrine of “Faith Alone”.

Stating The Objection
The objection has been stated on here in the following form:

Our FAITH is what bestows grace (and that faith is also a gift from God). Belief in magic rituals that “force” God to bestow grace is unbiblical. Grace is not something we do acts to earn, it is a gift granted despite our complete inability to do anything to deserve it…

And summed up as

Grace granted as the result of an act isn’t grace, it is a wage that was earned.

Since sacraments have already been distinguished from “magic” in a previous post in which were given biblical examples of acts brining about God’s grace not being considered magic, I will first only briefly address the magic comment before moving onto the main trust of the argument.

What Is Magic?
Magic is the act of relying on a supernatural force to bring about some desired end. The supernatural force is under the command of the magician and in popular cultural is usually brought about by some kind of ritual.

A Christian sacrament on the other hand is a gift given by God to help the church perform it’s mission on earth. It is God who brings about the result of the sacrament, it does not rely on any power in the one who performs it. Whereas magic attempts to either appease or control of a supernatural power or being into performing the whim of the magician, there is no appeasement or control in a sacrament. Man does not force God to given grace in a sacrament, God freely gives it because it is a gift to the church.

A Comparison To Prayer
Why sacraments are accused on being magic, and doing away with “Faith Alone” and not prayer confuses me. One way to think of sacraments are prayers of physical matter. In prayer Christians ask for grace to be given them (Lord give me the strength to overcome XYZ so I can conform more to Christ) and in the Lord’s Supper one takes the bread and wine expecting help to become more like Christ. The only major difference in this respect is that one is spoken, and the other a physical action. If sacraments are magic rituals, then prayer is magic enchantments. We will return to this comparison of prayer later.

The Doctrine Of Faith Alone
No Protestant will argue with the importance of faith in the life of the believer. No Protestant will argue with the statement that “It is by faith alone that one is justified.” However, Protestants will differ on what that statement means. The first Reformers who championed the doctrine saw no contradiction between that doctrine and the belief the the sacraments bestow grace.

As we saw in the last entry, that was Calvin’s view, and it was also Luther’s, the greatest champion of the doctrine to to mention the hundreds of other Reformers who held similar views. One could argue, and it often is, that those Reformers were still caught up in some Roman Catholic doctrine and it was left to others to shed the remaining Roman Catholic doctrines. While such an argument may be made, futility I believe, all I wish to point out is that historically we need not see a break between sacramental grace and the doctrine of faith alone.

How Is That Possible
One modern evangelical writer who has bucked the trend of seeing the Lord’s Supper only as an act of remembrance, and has made room for grace being given in it is Wayne Grudem. Chapter 48 of Grudem’s Systematic Theology is entitled “Means of Grace Within The Church” and will be used to explain why sacraments and the doctrine of “faith alone” are not mutually contradictory.

Grudem begins by asking the question:

All of the blessings we experience in this life are ultimately undeserved - they are all of grace. In fact, for Peter, the entire Christian life is lived by grace (1 Peter 5:12).
But are there any special means that God uses to give additional grace to us? Specifically, within the fellowship of the church are there certain means - that is, activities, ceremonies, or functions - that God uses to give more grace to us? Another way of formulating that question is to ask whether there are certain means through which the Holy Spirit works to convey blessings into the life of the believer. Of course, personal prayer, worship, and Bible study, and personal faith, are all means through which God works to bring grace to us as individual Christians. But in this chapter we are dealing with the doctrine of the church, and we are asking specifically within the fellowship of the church what the means of grace are that God uses to bring blessing to us.

Grudem identifies 11 activities, ceremonies and functions that God uses to bestow grace on the believer (For example; teaching the word, prayer, worship, giving…etc). Two of them are ceremonies (Baptist and the Lord’s Supper) which are which are the sacraments. It is important to note that in Grudem’s understanding, and all orthodox Christians, these means are only avenues that the Holy Spirit uses. The ritual in and of itself does not bring about grace, but it is the Holy Spirit working through them that does.

On the Holy Spirit working through the sacraments Grudem is lock step with Calvin who said in section 19 of his Short Treatise On The Lord’s Supper:

But to understand this advantage properly, we must not suppose that our Lord warns, incites, and inflames our hearts by the external sign merely; for the principal point is, that he operates in us inwardly by his Holy Spirit, in order to give efficacy to his ordinance, which he has destined for that purpose, as an instrument by which he wishes to do his work in us.

Not Ex Opere Operato
Ex Opere Operato is a Latin term that means that the work of the sacrament being performed confers the grace to the recipient, for the sake of our discussion, regardless of their faith. Such a belief would do away with the Protestant doctrine of “faith alone”, but Grudem is clear that this is not what he means:

But on a Protestant view, the means of grace are simply means of additional blessing within the Christian life, and do not add to our fitness to receive justification from God (However, the Anglican Church teaches that baptism is “generally necessary” for Salvation [My Note: We will deal with this in a later post if we get to baptism]). Catholics teach that the means of grace impart grace whether or not there is subjective faith on the part of the minister or the recipient, while Protestants hold that God only imparts grace when there is faith on the part of the persons receiving these means.

Once again we can turn to prayer to see a correlation. Prayer must be made in faith, in fact prayer is an act of faith. It must be made by someone who is trusting in God, and they put that trust into action by, as the Westminster Shorter Catechism says “…offering up of our desires unto God, for things agreeable to his will, in the name of Christ, with confession of our sins, and thankful acknowledgement of his mercies.” The fact that the faith of a person is acted on in a way commanded by God to receive grace does not do away with the supremacy of faith in prayer just as it does not do away with it in the Sacraments. In the sacraments the faith of the person is acted on through the means that God has ordained (Baptism or the Lord’s Supper) and it is because of faith that the grace is given, just as in prayer.

Why Then External Ritual?
The obvious question at this point should be; “If it is faith that is what matters in the sacraments, why bother with the external sign?” This is a huge question and one that I can only deal with in part in this entry. For an excellent extended answer see Evangelical Is not Enough by Thomas Howard The simple answer, and one that I heard given this past weekend, is because God commands it, but such a view seems to make the sacraments into a burden instead of the gift that they are. Yes God commands participation in Baptism and the Lord’s Supper, but He does it for our own good. To base participation in them on a command is akin to saying the reason your use a gift is because your dad who gave it to you our of love forces you to. God knows that humans enjoy ritual, that the physical is something that humans need to connect with, and there is so much meaning locked up in the sacraments that participating in them makes the gospel come alive in ways that reading about them can not bring about.

Conclusion
Are sacraments magical? No, they are means that the Holy Spirit use to bring grace to the Church. Do sacraments do away with faith? No, faith is the heartbeat of them. They are nothing without faith on part of the recipient. Is there nothing then to the external ritual of them? No, God has ordained the rituals of the sacraments, they are the means that our faith is expressed. Will this explanation satisfy everyone? No the debate that been going on in Protestant churches since Luther and Zwingli, but I hope at least to have done away with some misconceptions on the topic.

Calvin On The Lord’s Supper - Or What I Mean By Sanctifying Grace

Continuing the ongoing discussion of the Lord’s Supper (Part One, and Part Two) we will be looking at John Calvin’s view of what happens in the Lord’s Supper since there is much in it I share.

John Calvin, in section 4.17.3 of The Institutes of Christian Religion says the following regarding what the body and blood of Christ does:

As bread nourishes, sustains, and protects our bodily life, so the body of Christ is the only food to invigorate and keep alive the soul. When we behold wine set forth as a symbol of blood, we must think that such use as wine serves to the body, the same is spiritually bestowed by the blood of Christ; and the use is to foster, refresh, strengthen, and exhilarate.

This is the best explanation of what I mean when I use the term “sanctifying grace”. The grace that is given by the eating the body and blood of Christ is not grace that saves a person, but the grace that works like physical food does. It renews us, gives us energy, and keeps us healthy, not physically like ordinary food does, but spiritually. This is what feeding on the body and blood of Christ does.

But is this feeding on the body and blood of Christ what happens in the Lord’s Supper, or is it something that happens only spiritually through relying and trusting in Christ? Most evangelicals would agree with Calvin if he was referring only to what happens through trusting and relying on Christ through faith with no connection to the Lord’s Supper, except perhaps through some disjointed symbolism. But it is clear that Calvin is not only referring to what happens only when one trusts in Christ, but what happens when one trusts in Christ through the Lord’s Supper as section 4.17.10 discusses.

Section 4.17.10 begins by repeating section 4.17.3 in a condensed form which shows it is the same line of reasoning continuing:

The sum is, that the flesh and blood of Christ feed our souls just as bread and wine maintain and support our corporeal life. For there would be no aptitude in the sign, did not our souls find their nourishment in Christ.

Calvin then goes on to answer the question of how Christ, being far away from us (sitting at the right hand of God) can be connected to us, allowing us to eat His flesh and drink His blood. Although this question has not been a point I have dwelt on in my discussions of the Lord’s Supper it is an important point of which the Reformed and Lutherans have historically disagreed on.

This could not be, did not Christ truly form one with us, and refresh us by the eating of his flesh, and the drinking of his blood. But though it seems an incredible thing that the flesh of Christ, while at such a distance from us in respect of place, should be food to us, let us remember how far the secret virtue of the Holy Spirit surpasses all our conceptions, and how foolish it is to wish to measure its immensity by our feeble capacity. Therefore, what our mind does not comprehend let faith conceive, viz., that the Spirit truly unites things separated by space.

Calvin then enters into discussion of the question we have here been considering in the past blog entries; what happens in the Lord’s Supper. His answer is that exactly when was said in 4.17.3 is what happens:

That sacred communion of flesh and blood by which Christ transfuses his life into us, just as if it penetrated our bones and marrow, he testifies and seals in the Supper, and that not by presenting a vain or empty sign, but by there exerting an efficacy of the Spirit by which he fulfils what he promises. And truly the thing there signified he exhibits and offers to all who sit down at that spiritual feast, although it is beneficially received by believers only who receive this great benefit with true faith and heartfelt gratitude. For this reason the apostle said, “The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not the communion of the blood of Christ? The bread which we break, is it not the communion of the body of Christ?” (1 Cor. 10: 16.) There is no ground to object that the expression is figurative, and gives the sign the name of the thing signified.

Calvin believes scripture connects the Lord’s Supper to what is symbolized by it. When we drink the wine we are participating(ESV)/sharing(GNB) in the blood of Christ, likewise when we eat the bread we are participating(ESV)/sharing(GNB) in the body of Christ. If this is the case, then when we take the bread and wine we are in fact taking the bread and blood of Christ and the benefits that come with it. This is not to say that the bread and wine are the literal body and blood of Christ, Calvin would deny the Roman Catholic doctrine, but they are connected. How are they connected?

I admit, indeed, that the breaking of bread is a symbol, not the reality. But this being admitted, we duly infer from the exhibition of the symbol that the thing itself is exhibited. For unless we would charge God with deceit, we will never presume to say that he holds forth an empty symbol. Therefore, if by the breaking of bread the Lord truly represents the partaking of his body, there ought to be no doubt whatever that he truly exhibits and performs it. The rule which the pious ought always to observe is, whenever they see the symbols instituted by the Lord, to think and feel surely persuaded that the truth of the thing signified is also present. For why does the Lord put the symbol of his body into your hands, but just to assure you that you truly partake of him? If this is true, let us feel as much assured that the visible sign is given us in seal of an invisible gift as that his body itself is given to us.

The bread and wine symbolizes the body and blood of Christ, but the symbol is not a mere symbol. Through the taking of the symbol what the symbol represents is given. The benefits of the body and blood of Christ are given in the Lord’s supper because by receiving the symbol, one receives what is symbolized. To steal an explanation of this consider the example of a wedding ring. The wedding ring is a symbol (among other things) of the marriage, but when the ring is placed on the finger what it symbolizes comes into being. The ring is not the marriage, but it is so connected to the marriage that it is not an empty symbol; it truly represents the truth of the marriage and one who receives it receives the benefits of the marriage covenant through it.

How then shall this all be summed up? According to Calvin the Lord’s Supper gives the Christian sanctifying grace, that is grace for the Christian life, because the bread and wine are the symbols of the body and blood of Christ, and through those symbols we participate with what they symbolize.

Oh No, It’s Magic… Or Maybe Not.

Usually the first objection that is brought up when a person who holds to a memorialist position learns that I hold to the view that some kind of sanctifying grace is imparted to a participant in the Lord’s Supper is that I’m believing in magical elements. To quote a commentator on a previous thread, where I introduced this idea:

The Bible does NOT teach that magic rituals obtain grace, but rather that faith is rewarded with grace.

I believe there are two reasons that this, and similar responses I’ve heard from many people, occur. The first, and one I will only touch on here, is that it comes from a lingering rejection of the Roman Catholic Church. Having “grown up” in Baptist churches, where the memorialist position was the norm, all other positions were pretty much lumped together as being the Roman Catholic view, or at least on the way to it. I don’t believe this was done intentionally, by most, but was done simply for lack of knowledge on other traditions in general and lack of thought on the Lord’s Supper particularly.

As an example to this, I was talking with a friends dad the other day who use to be a pastor in The Christian And Missionary Alliance (Not to put either the dad [who I enjoy talking with] or the CMA [which I am attending a church of and enjoying it very much at the moment] down but only to illustrate the issue) and the fact that I think grace is imparted in the supper came up. His first reaction was to call it a Catholic view and begin to discuss what is wrong transubstantiation. The fact that I didn’t mention the topic of Christ’s presence, but only wished to talk about what happens in the Lord’s Supper didn’t seem to matter. It was a deviation from the memorialist position and therefore must be Catholic and include the whole of the Catholic teaching. This is of course absurd, but it happens often. The only way to combat this is education on the fact that protestants have historically had varying views on the Lord’s Supper and not everything different is Catholic. Of course a better understanding of what the Roman Catholic Church actually teaches and why would also help.

The second reason that any grace position is rejected as magic, and I think the more pervasive one, is that the vast majority of people today have in their minds a radical separation between the spiritual and physical world. We can chalk this dichotomy up to gnosticism or enlightenment philosophers, but the fact is that it’s there and it’s undeniable. The idea that God would use an object to give grace, seems so very strange to many because of this.

Today’s average Protestant Christian has simply accepted the doctrine of justification by faith alone, and never actually looked to see what it means. It has therefore morphed into something much closer to a doctrine that says “justification by faith in faith alone” eliminating any physical connection and bringing in the nebulous idea that it is faith the saves a person and not something or someone. When pressed on it, every protestant worth their salt will respond that it is Christ that saves, but in the abstract, the fact that He was a physical person whose action we put faith in to accomplish what scripture promises putting faith in Him will, is not considered. The physical actions of Christ are often overlooked on account of faith. We are not saved by faith, but saved by a person who in faith we trust in to do what He promised.

To bring this a bit away from the abstract, we could ask the question: If Christ did not go to the cross, commit a physical action, would salvation still be open to people even if they had faith? The answer I think is no, Christ needed to go to the cross, and He needed to be raised again or else our faith would be in nothing.

This is all well and good you say, but that was Christ committing a physical action, your speaking of us performing a physical action of receive grace. Isn’t that works salvation?

Works is the funny thing in Protestant theology. I was once asked long, long ago, how I could say I didn’t believe works saved and then say that faith was needed to be saved. Wasn’t faith a work? The question perplexed me for a while, I was a very new believer, but the answer is quite simple; faith may be a work, but it is one that is done not by our own power but by God’s (Ephesians 2:8).

The Protestant argument against works is, or at least should be, that the person is trying to save themselves. They are doing works of their own power to get a spiritual result. They think that by doing something they are storing up merit that counts towards them in heaven. These are not views I want to put forward as what happens in the Lord’s Supper at all.

When I say sanctifying grace is given in the Lord’s Supper I mean that God uses the elements of it to give us grace. It’s the avenue which He sends His grace to us through. There is no inherent quality in the bread and wine that gives grace to any eater of it, but God sends His grace through it to those who take it in faith. As we saw earlier God uses the physical Christ to bring saving grace to us, and we see other examples in scripture of Him using physical objects to bring grace to people.

Consider Numbers 21:9:

So Moses made a bronze serpent and set it on a pole. And if a serpent bit anyone, he would look at the bronze serpent and live.

There are several questions to ask with a passage like this. Was it a work for the people to look at the snake? Did they heal themselves? Was it the snake that healed, or was it God? Of course we will say it was not a work, that God healed them and it wasn’t the snake that did but God working through the physical object. The same questions should be asked with Mark 8:23-25 where Christ used physical objects to heal a man of his blindness.

None of this is proof, or even an argument, that sanctifying grace is given in the Lord’s supper, thats not the point here. The point is to give the person pause who rejects that view out of hand because it comes across as magic. God can, and does, use physical means to distribute His grace. He did it with Christ, with the serpents on the pole, and with mud and spit. The absolute dichotomy between physical and spiritual is not one found in scripture. Our God works in mysterious ways, and through mysterious objects, and we should embrace that!

Don’t Make Wikipedia Your Only Source

I use Wikipedia a fair bit. When wanting information on a topic I haven’t read on before I will often look it up on Wikipedia and use what I find there as a launching board for further research. However I am careful not to simply accept what Wikiedpia says but to actually look into the topic more. I do this because ever so often I will read something on it, and knowing a fair bit about the subject already, I shake my head at how wrong the article is.

For example, in the article on Archangel, Wikipedia says:

A similar opinion is held by certain Protestants, such as Seventh-day Adventists,[11] the Baptist evangelist Charles Spurgeon[12] and the Presbyterian Commentary author Matthew Henry,[13] who believe that the Archangel Michael is not an angel but is instead , the divine Son of God. In this view “archangel” means “head of the angels” rather than “head angel,” and is a title similar to “Prince or Leader of the host.” (Daniel 8:11)

Spurgeon and Henry did not, as best as I can tell, hold to what is being attributed to them here. If you look at the citation they have for Spurgeon (Morning and Evenings, Morning of October 3rd) what he says is:

He it is whose camp is round about them that fear him; he is the true Michael whose foot is upon the dragon. All hail, Jesus! thou Angel of Jehovah’s presence, to thee this family offers its morning vows.

Spurgeon is not here saying Micheal is Jesus, but instead saying that Micheal is a type of Christ. Michael kills the dragon , and that points to what Christ has done to death.

The citation that they have for Henry (His commentary on Daniel 12) seems to be similar:

Jesus Christ shall appear his church’s patron and protector: At that time, when the persecution is at the hottest, Michael shall stand up, Dan_12:1. The angel had told Daniel what a firm friend Michael was to the church, Dan_10:21. He all along showed this friendship in the upper world; the angels knew it; but now Michael shall stand up in his providence, and work deliverance for the Jews, when he sees that their power is gone, Deu_32:36. Christ is that great prince, for he is the prince of the kings of the earth, Rev_1:5. And, if he stand up for his church, who can be against it? But this is not all: At that time (that is, soon after) Michael shall stand up for the working out of our eternal salvation; the Son of God shall be incarnate, shall be manifested to destroy the works of the devil. Christ stood for the children of our people when he was made sin and a curse for them, stood in their stead as a sacrifice, bore the cure for them, to bear it from them. He stands for them in the intercession he ever lives to make within the veil, stands up for them, and stands their friend. And after the destruction of antichrist, of whom Antiochus was a type, Christ shall stand at the latter day upon the earth, shall appear for the complete redemption of all his.

Henry is not as explicit as Spurgeon is, but to attribute to him the simplified view that Wikipedia does is to do him a great disservice.

Another Example: Augustine
An entry that I just came across tonight where Wikipedia really drops the ball is it’s entry on Augustine in it they say:

The Church of England disavowed the state of original sin in the 16th century.[citation needed]

Yet the 39 Articles of Religion of the Anglican Church clearly state:

IX. Of Original or Birth Sin.
Original sin standeth not in the following of Adam (as the Pelagians do vainly talk), but it is the fault and corruption of the nature of every man that naturally is engendered of the offspring of Adam, whereby man is very far gone from original righteousness, and is of his own nature inclined to evil, so that the flesh lusteth always contrary to the spirit; and therefore in every person born into this world, it deserveth God’s wrath and damnation. And this infection of nature doth remain, yea, in them that are regenerated, whereby the lust of the flesh, called in Greek phronema sarkos (which some do expound the wisdom, some sensuality, some the affection, some the desire of the flesh), is not subject to the law of God. And although there is no condemnation for them that believe and are baptized, yet the Apostle doth confess that concupiscence and lust hath itself the nature of sin.

This doesn’t mean that Wikipedia is useless, as I said I myself make use of it, but with anything you want to properly understand you cannot stop with only one source (and a secondary source at that) but you need to use many sources, and go to the primary ones whenever possible. If you don’t do this, you many get close to the truth (As with the archangel example), or you may end up with something completely wrong (As with the Original Sin example). The problem with Wikipedia is that it makes people lazy. They will read it and simply assume that what they are reading is true, they ignore primary resources, and don’t look at what is being cited in Wikipedia (if a citation is given at all).

Tradition & Theology - Part III

(This is part 3 of a four part series on tradition. Part one can be found here, part two here.)

Tradition is where religious authority is found; it is no wonder then that it is deeply embedded in the concepts of orthodoxy and sacred scriptures. Tradition is the endless cycle of dialogues between scripture and orthodoxy that travel through each generation, never quite the same in each instance. The tradition handed down is the contextual backdrop for the current dialogue. There is never a moment in these dialogues that tradition is not somehow involved, even in the most extreme theologies (e.g., theologies that believes that the scriptures can be completely understood at face value without any context). In other words, even a theology that says it rejects tradition still plays in the game of interaction between scripture and orthodoxy.

Beginning with the Council of Trent and surfacing most recently in the Second Vatican Council, the Roman Catholic Church has emphasized its belief in tradition as coming from the same authoritative source as scriptures [Robert Murray, “Tradition and Sacred Texts,” International Journal of Systematic Theology 6:1 (Jan 2004): 6. Also, the document “Dei Verbum” which was the backbone for II Vatican]. Protestant denominations have frequently claimed “sola Scriptura” as Martin Luther did during the Reformation, yet many still appeal to a form of tradition (e.g., the Baptist Faith and Message, Westminster Confession, and Thirty-nine Articles). No group of Christians has been able to survive without tradition because it undergirds orthodoxy.

Why is it that some (or many) Christians want orthodoxy without tradition? This can be answered by looking more closely at how orthodoxy views itself.

Orthodoxy distinguishes itself by the quality of its theology: originality, proper (or true) transmission from its inception, unity and universality, and a middle way between heretical extremes [John B. Henderson, The Construction of Orthodoxy and Heresy (Albany, NY: SUNY, 1998): 85]. In other words, orthodoxy is seen as the original “formula” that existed from the beginning and was accepted by all believers. Heterodoxy was, by extension, a deviation from orthodoxy; Eusebius used this as an argument against heterodoxy[Henderson, 85].

Even when it is clearly not the case that the orthodox position was the primary, original view, it has been re-interpreted as such by its proponents. An example of this can be found during the Reformation when Luther rejected the deuterocanonical books as part of the canon, part of his (and later followers’) argument was that these texts were originally not part of the canon, despite the Council of Carthage in 397 declaring otherwise (this is the same council that affirmed the Synod of Hippo’s canon, which Protestants accept for defining the canon of the NT).

Another argument used by orthodoxy is the harmony and unity of their beliefs in contrast to the heterodox ones. This notion is a powerful argument for the orthodox because it paints all other theologies as not only divergent from the “true” orthodox but also as divergent within themselves. Why should heterodoxy be entertained if it is self-refuting? Related to this quality is that of universality.

The earliest form of the church was the catholic—universal—church. The Nicene Creed of 381 states that there is “one holy catholic and apostolic Church”—the two qualities that come only from orthodox belief.

The final quality of note is that of moderation. Orthodoxy prides itself on keeping away from heretical extremes. We can see examples of this in the most basic doctrines of orthodox Christianity: Christology (both divine and human in one person) and the trinity (three persons in one substance). In order to fuel this line of argument, orthodoxy must create a canon; both church fathers such as Augustine and Reformation leaders such as Luther agreed that the church had the “power to recognize the books of the canon” [Jaroslav Pelikan, Reformation of Church and Dogma (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1984): 263].

As beliefs grow from a singular point (e.g., Jesus the crucified and risen messiah), regular texts are perceived in new light as authoritative. One example of this is the acceptance of 2 Peter into the canon in order to “[oppose] those who promote false teaching” [Bart Ehrman, The New Testament (New York: Oxford, 2000): 421] even though its claim to authorship by the apostle Peter was not well received.

Another more well known example is Luther’s exclusion of not only the deuterocanonical books but also James, Hebrews, Jude, and Revelation from the canon! [Lee McDonald, The Formation of the Christian Biblical Canon (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1995): 226] Just as the nature of orthodoxy is the creation (and maintenance) of a canon, the function of a canon is to define orthodoxy. Tradition, in the sense of this interaction, is the compass (orthodoxy) and map (scriptures) to the territory of belief.

Tradition & Text - Part II

Author’s Note: This is part 2 of a 4-part series on tradition. Part 1 here.

As much as orthodoxy is defined by scriptures, so are scriptures defined by orthodoxy. It appears that during the time that Christianity separated from Judaism around the middle of the first century, Jewish scriptures were divided into three sets: the Torah, the Prophets, and the Hagiographa. While the first two had been closed sets of scriptures for approximately 2 centuries, the third set was open for discussion.

The earliest estimate for closing this part is believed to be the meeting at Jamnia in 90 CE [James A Sanders, From Sacred Story to Sacred Text (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987): 12-13]. Sanders mentions that the whole issue was not completely settled until the second century, but that the areas of debate were very minimal:

And the fact that some scattered debate continued into the second century about the canonicity of Esther, Song of Songs, Ecclesiastes, and even Proverbs and Ezekiel, should, in that perspective, properly viewed as minimal in the extreme [Sanders, 13].

Other scholars do not see this meeting as being as conclusive; they suggest a later date some time during the second or third century CE. Regardless of when the Jewish canon was settled, it is certain that Christianity does not begin with a definitive canon of scriptures. While the two religions appeal to the same set of texts, their interpretations of these texts as sacred scriptures can differ radically from each other. In both instances, it is orthodoxy that informs the decision-making process.

Early Christian theology focused on Jesus as the central point of faith and belief. Throughout the writings of the church fathers, it is clear that this is the litmus by which they read Jewish scriptures as their own Christian scriptures. It is important to perceive this difference between Jewish and Christian uses of the same text. An average Jew does not read, for example, the book of Jeremiah the same way a Christian does—and vice versa. For this reason, it will be better to think of the two as completely separate instead of one being a subset of the other.

By the Council of Carthage in 397, church fathers had accepted the Greek Septuagint as the text of their Old Testament; and it differed from the Jewish canon of scriptures. There was little dispute in the church prior to the Reformation on this. During the Reformation, protestants began to reject this difference and reduced the set of texts for their Old Testament to match the Jewish canon [Henri Blocher, “Helpful or Harmful?”, European Journal of Theology 13.2: 82].Throughout all of these decisions, it was the concept of orthodoxy that played the greatest role in determining which texts are truly sacred.

Scriptures have been defined primarily for the justification and creation of orthodoxy, but it has also been defined for the exclusion of other beliefs. As Henderson wrote,

André Suarès has argued that ‘Heresy is the lifeblood of religion. It is faith that made heretics.’ But it might be equally true to say that heretics have made faith, or at least the faith [John B. Henderson, The Construction of Orthodoxy and Heresy (Albany, NY: SUNY, 1998): 2].

Marcion, for instance, believed that the God of love Paul describes is so radically different from the Jewish God of creation that anything related to this Jewish God was completely worthless. His idea of orthodoxy led him to reject all forms of Jewish scripture and to suggest a canon consisting of Paul’s letters and a single gospel. While his canon most likely did not reflect what most Christians at this time read, church fathers began to react against Marcion’s canon and formulate a more accepted canon. Scholars agree that Marcion’s forming of a canon was the catalyst for Christianity to define a single canon.

The example of Shepherd of Hermas is more to the point. It was well accepted by the earliest fathers, much as Epistle of Barnabas, but it was rejected and then treated as heretical in the matter of three hundred years. It is clear that Shepherd could have been interpreted as presenting an adoptionist [Robert J. Hauck, “The great fast: Christology in the Shepherd of Hermas,” Anglican Theological Review 75.2 (Spring 1993): 197] Christology; this is probably the primary reason it was excluded from the canon and branded heretical: it did not fall in line explicitly enough with the emerging orthodoxy. It is through the debates in the first 400 years of Christianity that settle the issue of what texts are sacred and what beliefs are proper. It is here, through the question of what beliefs are acceptable that texts become scriptures.

The Reason For God, Part 1

Last month Timothy Keller’s book The Reason For God was released. I was first introduced to Tim Keller when I listened to the audio of his speech at the 2006 Desiring God Conference. Although there were many good speakers at the conference (including Mark Driscoll and John Piper), Tim Keller’s speech stood out for me above them all. However because I do not spend a lot of time listening to sermons (I prefer to read books) one thing that has disappointed me about Keller is that he hasn’t written much. The only thing I had read by him before this book was his chapter from Worship By The Book was quite good, but also quite short. Therefore when I heard that he was working on a book on apologetics I became quite excited.

Due to school work, I didn’t end up buying the book until March, and finishing it off last week. Over the next few weeks I will be posting thoughts and reflections on specific parts of the work, but first I want to talk about the book in general and dive into the method Keller uses.

An Overview
Keller divides the book into two sections. The first section is negative apologetics, that is, he responds to a variety of attacks on the Christian faith. The second section is mainly positive apologetics - building up a case for the Christian God. There are generally five main ways of conducting apologetics and Keller’s book broadly fits into the field of Van Tillian Presuppositional Apologetics (if one wants to be more specific I think he would be closer to John Frame then Greg Bahnsen). What then does this mean for someone who is reading this book? What should a reader expect?

Keller’s method involves looking at a person’s position and examining if it is consistent or not. In the first section he takes an argument such as “How Can a Good God Allow Suffering?” and attempts to show that the reasoning behind the argument is either inconsistent, or relies on a Christian understanding of the world. In the second section he starts with Christian presuppositions and shows how the God of scripture is both consistent and believable.

This approach has both advantages and disadvantages. If Christianity is the only consistent worldview (which I don’t believe Keller claims in the book, but several who follow a similar method do) then it is a very powerful method of attack on non-Christian worldviews. Even if it is not the only consistent worldview, by examining other’s claims for consistently one will often find that they are inconsistent or worst yet, rely on Christianity.

For those who have never thought much on their worldview before, this will often come as quite a surprise and give them pause to think. On the other hand, this method can, at times, become quite philosophical and too abstract for some to follow. Worse yet, if someone has put a lot of thought into their worldview, a Christian dialoguing with them may not be able to find inconsistencies with it where they expect to see them.

Reconciliation Through Dialogue
To mitigate these issues, Keller appears to employ two basic strategies. First off, he only sets out broad arguments against certain worldviews (such as an evolutionary worldview). Secondly, unlike the combative way this approach has been used before, Keller comes off seeming to want more of a dialogue then a debate. Although there is no doubt that he believes the Christian worldview to be correct, he is not wanting to push it on someone, but instead engage in a discussion about it and let people make their own decision.

Although the discussion in this book can revolve around some very deep theological and philosophical issues, Keller does a really good job brining in other thinkers who have written in detail on these subjects in works the average Christian will never consider reading, and explaining them in such a way the average reader will understand. That is perhaps the greatest strength of this work; nothing totally new is put forward, but what is out there but often unreachable is brought into reach.

In the next entry in this series we will begin to look at some of the specific arguments that Keller puts forward against common objections to the Christian faith.

Tradition & Orthodoxy - Part I

Author’s Note: This is part 1 of a 4-part series on tradition adapted from a paper I recently authored.

What is the process surrounding the development of texts into sacred scriptures, particularly in new religious movements? Additionally, what relation, if any, does this process have with the defining of orthodoxy? This series will examine these two movements as a re-imagining of what is nominally considered tradition, “the process of handing something on to another generation and that which is handed on” [Robert Murray, “Tradition and Sacred Texts,” International Journal of Systematic Theology 6:1 (Jan 2004): 4]

These two ideas—orthodoxy and scriptures—are codependent concepts that require the other for proper existence. Without a defined orthodoxy, it is nearly impossible to define a set of scriptures. Without a set of scriptures, there cannot be a strong definition of orthodoxy. These two movements interact with each other reciprocally: scriptures define orthodoxy while orthodoxy defines and interprets scriptures. In other words, it is a constant dialogue and interaction between theology and text that provides the context for present and future instances. All of orthodoxy and scripture is embedded in the context of the sum of its previous interactions and dialogues. This series will look at each of these, first from a theoretical perspective, followed by a few case examples. Tradition has the association that it has always been as such, but this article will show that this is only because the interactions between scriptures and orthodoxy force them to be reinterpreted as having always been the case.

Rightly Dividing
Christianity did not begin in a vacuum, nor with its theology fully formed at inception. Its orthodoxy was largely a process of refinement that is most visible in the many creeds that still stand today (e.g., the Nicene Creed). What we do know about the earliest groups of Christians is that they were, at times, wildly divergent with some believing Jesus to be purely divine without any kind of bodily form and others believing Jesus to be strictly human adopted by God later on [See Bart Ehrman, The New Testament (New York: Oxford, 2000) chapter 1 as well as Ehrman, Misquoting Jesus (New York: HarperOne, 2005) chapter 6].

Every one of these groups had in mind a particular set of texts as their sacred scriptures which provided the evidence they needed to define what they constructed as orthodoxy—proper belief. There is even enough evidence to suggest that “the proto-heretical, not the proto-orthodox, were in the majority at some points in the early Church” [John B. Henderson, The Construction of Orthodoxy and Heresy (Albany, NY: SUNY, 1998): 40]. For instance, Arianism at one time was so popular that Jerome remarked that “the world groaned and was amazed that it had become Arian” [Quoted in Henderson, 43-44].

Throughout these events, support was provided by appeal to what was considered sacred scriptures. When Pope Leo I declared the Roman tradition as orthodoxy and focused church authority to the papal office, his support was based on the succession of popes that began with Jesus’ instruction to Peter in the gospels[Henderson, 44], not to the primacy of the Roman See, the influential location of the Roman church, some divine vision, or the popularity of its beliefs in the emerging Christianity.

In the various councils that fought against what became heresies—or more precisely, heterodoxies—creeds were formulated by appeals to scriptures. By the time of these councils, much of Christianity had come to a mostly agreed-upon set of scriptures; only a handful of books were disputed at the fringes [Lee McDonald, The Formation of the Christian Biblical Canon (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1995): 206 and Appendix 1.D]. Given an early date of acceptance of the NT canon to be Athanasius’s Easter Letter of 367 and a late date to be the Council of Carthage in 397, much of what is now orthodox belief in Christianity was not finalized until this time or later [The doctrine of the trinity was not fully formed until the second Ecumenical Council (at Constantinople) in 381. Most other issues were not settled until at least the mid-fifth century].

The ability to define orthodoxy requires both an accepted set of scriptures and a motivation to do such. During much of Christianity’s first century, there was not a motivation for creating orthodoxy—something that is for longevity of the religion—because the primary focus was the imminent second coming of Christ. What good is it to discuss and flesh out a set of beliefs that will probably not come to fruition before the end of time. This is similar to the reasoning scholarship believes there were few books in the beginning of Christianity. As just mentioned above, the majority of sacred scriptures were agreed upon relatively early compared to the formation of orthodoxy. The greatest driving force behind the consolidation of belief into orthodoxy came almost exclusively from the proto-orthodox predecessors. In other words, the proponents of what would become orthodoxy wanted to promote their beliefs as orthodox and exclude other beliefs, even if those other beliefs were more common. As John Henderson mentions,

Despite the discovery of some Gnostic heresiology in the Nag Hammadi materials, there remains a “curious scarcity of anti-orthodox polemics in the heretical literature. Although it seems that second-century heretical authors were far more prolific than their orthodox counterparts, they appear uninterested in refuting the orthodox position.” [Henderson, 27]

This is a major factor to consider when analyzing the development of orthodoxy. Too often, it is believed that the battle for orthodoxy was a constant fight between both parties, but it seems that orthodoxy was brought by brute force rather than discussion [Henderson, 46].

The creation of orthodoxy depends upon the existence of an accepted set of sacred scriptures, a canon. It is important that the texts are treated as religiously authoritative and not just edifying. This distinction can be seen most clearly in the acceptance of Epistle of Barnabas. It was originally accepted as canonical by fathers such as Eusebius and Clement of Alexandria, as well as being included in the earliest textual witnesses, including Codex Sinaiticus. Yet, later church fathers such as Athanasius and Rufinus removed it from their list of canonical books while still suggesting it as edifying for the church [McDonald, 271]. Through the use of scriptures, orthodoxy defines its core doctrines as well as those beliefs that are incompatible with them—heterodoxy.


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