Reformed Forum

Using Bavinck to Read Shakespeare: What’s in a Name?

Pierce Taylor Hibbs — Thu, 25 Apr 2013 11:00:43 +0000

In the second act of scene two in Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, we encounter a punchy line that’s held readers’ attention for centuries. Frustrated because her lover carries the name of her family’s rival, Juliet voices her complaint,

What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.

So, what’s in a name, anyway? Why doesn’t Romeo just drop his last name and make this love affair a whole lot simpler? There are reasons he doesn’t, which extend perhaps beyond even Shakespeare’s imagination.

People have sometimes misinterpreted Juliet’s words to mean that names aren’t important. A rose would still retain its scent and color if called by a different name, wouldn’t it? Of course it would; but then it wouldn’t be a rose. It would be something different—a pansy, a peony, or a daffodil—but not a “rose.”

Names are important, and we can’t drop or change them without repercussions. Herman Bavinck sheds light on just how important names are, and perhaps this will help us refute the popular view that names are only superficial.[1]

A Name and Its Bearer

In discussing the biblical names for God, Herman Bavinck writes,

A name is a sign of the person bearing it, a designation referring to some characteristic in which a person reveals himself or herself and becomes knowable. There is a connection between a name and its bearer, and that connection, so far from being arbitrary, is rooted in that bearer. Even among us [moderns], now that names have for the most part become mere sounds without meaning, that connection is still felt. A name is something personal . . . . it stands for our honor, our worth, our person and individuality.[2]

A name is more than just a string of phonemes—even if that’s how we treat names today. Names are tied in a special way to those who hold them. They play a part in identifying the being to which they are attached, and in doing so they alert us as to how we should interact with that being.

Names for God

Bavinck continues with his argument by examining the names of God we find in Scripture—names which are more transparent than those we find in our culture. In the Bible, God’s names point to His being. In Gen 17:1 God identifies Himself as אֵל שַׁדַּי, “God Almighty.” The letters signify who God is: He is incomparably mighty, stronger than any other being. Similarly, יְהֹוָה צְבָאוֹת points us to God’s power as the “Lord of Hosts.” He has every army at His beck and call. When we pronounce that name, we draw attention to God’s commanding presence. God’s names themselves carry meaning that is bound up with God, the bearer.

This is the same for Christ. As the מָשִׁיחַ “Messiah,” Christ is the anointed one. He is the one who will fulfill God’s promise in Gen 3:15, the one who will carry out the climactic event of redemptive history. He has been “anointed” in a way unlike any other person, so it is fitting to call him the anointed one. All others who have been anointed in history pale in comparison.

The Holy Spirit is not left out of this naming convention either. He is called ὁ παράκλητος, “the Helper” or “Comforter.” The letters bring to mind the very nature of what the Spirit does for believers in Christ.

The names of God, then, are tied not just to who He is but how He acts, and thus they reveal how we relate to Him as creatures. When God tells Moses that He is “I AM,” He is referencing His a se nature—His utter independence and self-existence. As a creature hearing that name, Moses learns that he is derivative, dependent on God for his every breath. This revelation—as it should—brings Moses to fear and worship. The name reveals how Moses is to respond to the one who bears it.

Names of Creatures

What Bavinck has stated about the names of God can be applied analogously to God’s creatures. Names identify beings and make them knowable, and they reveal how we are to relate to them.

Throughout Scripture, names tell us something very important about who a person is or will be. This is evident in God’s renaming of certain people in the Bible, such as Abram and Jacob. God says to Abram, “No longer shall your name be called Abram, but your name shall be Abraham, for I have made you the father of a multitude of nations” (Gen 17:5). Abraham’s new name points to who he will become. In Gen 32, Jacob is renamed “Israel,” meaning “he who strives with God,” because he strove with God and with men and prevailed (Gen 32:28). Jacob’s new name, like Abraham’s, reflects who he now is.

All this is not to say that our names today are as transparent as those we find in Scripture. In fact, we would be hard-pressed to find a name today that is etymologically tied to the person bearing it. Rather, it is to say that names cannot be separated from their bearers as if names themselves have no meaning. They certainly are not treated this way in Scripture. Even if names do not reveal the actual nature or character of the thing they are attached to, they still allow us to identify a person or thing and interact appropriately.

What Juliet Meant

So, what did Juliet mean by her words about the name of a rose? She didn’t mean that names are arbitrary and that Romeo can simply cast his aside without consequence. Here’s what I think she meant: Juliet, like Shakespeare, would have known, at least intuitively, that names are important and that they are bound up with their bearers. They identify people and things, making them knowable and revealing how we are to interact with them. Because of this, Juliet would be frustrated by pure, detached nominalization. She is a Capulet, and Romeo is a Montague. These titles alone—considered in isolation from their particular bearers—are keeping them from being together. A name in isolation from its bearer is restricting her actions. This, to her, is madness—as it should be. It is not that names themselves are of little value, but that names are vapid when viewed in isolation from the unique creatures who bear them. Names are connected to their bearers and have meaning and status derived from those whom they identify. That is why Jesus’ name is above all other names (Phil 2:9). All that Jesus has done, is doing, and will do, all that He is, places His title above any other name. He reveals Himself in His name, making Himself knowable, and thus showing us how we are to respond to Him. There is a clear connection between Christ and His name—“a connection . . . rooted in that bearer.”

Conclusion

We can’t say that names are irrelevant; we don’t even act as if they are. We know that a name identifies a unique creature, distinguishing it from others, and that it tells us how we are to interact with the creature who bears it. I will not turn around if someone runs down the street, calling, “Jim! Jim!” That’s not my name. Someone wishing to interact with me must use my name, the name that is bound to me as a particular creature made in God’s image.

So, let us return to Juliet. What’s in a name? A bearer. That’s what’s in a name. A rose called by another name would still smell as sweet, but we would have altered our reference to the bearer, and thus affected how we identify it and how we interact with it. Names are not superficial strings of phonemes. They stamp their bearers with particular identities—identities that cannot be torn from their names without confusion or misguided engagement resulting. As it turns out, it’s better that Romeo didn’t “doff” his name. Had he done so, Juliet would have, quite literally, fallen for someone else.

[1] Note that this essay deals not with what Juliet actually meant in the context of the play, nor does it attempt to explore Shakespeare’s use of nomenclature. Rather, it deals with the faulty interpretation of Juliet’s words by those who would divorce them from their context and give them a “reader-based” meaning, a meaning which I consider to be insubstantial and unstable.

[2] Herman Bavinck, God and Creation, vol. 2 of Reformed Dogmatics, ed. John Bolt, trans. John Vriend (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2004), 97.

Has American Culture Triumphed over American Faith?

Robert Tarullo — Mon, 01 Apr 2013 12:00:32 +0000

Prominent sociologist Alan Wolfe, director of the Boisi Center at Boston University, recently wrote in “The Transformation of American Religion: How We Actually Live Our Faith”: “In every aspect of the religious life, American faith has met American culture – and American culture has triumphed.”

As a pastor, I wonder how true Wolfe’s statement might be. Has American culture triumphed over the religious life of American Christians? Has the American church given up her distinctive features and replaced them with American culture? Wolfe’s observations of the American religious life are striking. He writes, “Whether or not the faithful ever were a people apart, they are so no longer… Talk of hell, damnation and even sin has been replaced by a nonjudgmental language of understanding and empathy … Far from living in a world elsewhere, the faithful in the United States are remarkably like everyone else.” Criticism is hard to take sometimes. However, often it proves to be helpful for self-reflection, even when it comes from those outside of the Christian community. Fresh criticism is something the church needs to hear. To paraphrase Wolfe’s analysis in the language of the Bible: Has the church become more a friend of the world than a friend of God? (James 4:4). Is the American church characterized more by this present evil age or the age to come? (Galatians 1:4). To put it another way, has the American church forgotten what it means to be, first and foremost, citizens of heaven? (Philippians 3:20). In the American penchant for pragmatism, have we forgotten the responsibility of the church in—and to—our age?

Indeed, with these observations before us, what is the responsibility of the church? The early 20th century theologian J. Gresham Machen asked a similar question: “What is the responsibility of the church in our new age?” In his answer he describes the church as “citizens of a heavenly kingdom.” In this view, the church is a heavenly outpost on earth, a colony of heaven, so to speak. As such, the church is counter-cultural; the church is the community of God’s people set apart from the world to worship God and to live according to God’s holy word. God calls the church to teach that there is truth. Into the midst of a culture of ever-changing fads and opinions, into the despair of the post-modern rejection of meaning, the church will come with a clear message.

The message will be from the Bible, in which the living God has been revealed. The message of the church presents a gospel as the way of salvation. This message maintains that all are lost in sin, but may be saved through the Savior offered in the gospel. The church also will be transformed in its life. By this I mean that the church will “cherish the hope of the goodness in the other world, and that even here and now it will exhibit of a new life which is the gift of God,” to use a line from Machen. Much of the present transformation of the American religious life, observed by Wolfe, seems to be a result of a desire for relevance in an ever-transforming culture.

For the church to be truly relevant in the world today, I believe the church should maintain its doctrine, its message and its treasured hope in the world to come. Only as the colony of heaven on earth, as those living lives that express to the whole world the goodness of God exemplified in the love of Jesus Christ, only then, I believe, will the American church prove itself a friend of God and not a friend of the world. Wolfe’s observations are well taken. Of course, he did not visit every church in America. Nevertheless, his observations serve as an opportunity for self-reflection, to reflect on the church’s responsibility in this age. As far as I understand the Scriptures, the church’s responsibility in this age is the same as its responsibility in every age. “It is to testify that this world is lost in sin,” Machen writes, “that there is a mysterious, holy, living God, Creator of all … that he has revealed himself to us in his word and offered us communion with himself through Jesus Christ the Lord … [a]n unpopular message it is—an impractical message, we are told. But it is the message of the Christian church.”

Worship and the Presbyterian Church in America (PCA)

Camden Bucey — Sat, 30 Mar 2013 17:10:26 +0000

William H. Smith shares several thoughts on the conservative movements currently forming within the Presbyterian Church in America (PCA). As a member of (and now pastor-elect in) a sister denomination, the Orthodox Presbyterian Church (OPC), I found his comments on worship to be most interesting.

I have said before, and will venture to say again that one of the most consequential decisions made by the PCA early on was its decision not to have a real Directory for Worship. Though this avoided a fight, and though the consequences were not foreseen by those who voted in favor, the effect of this decision has turned out to be to allow virtually anything in worship so long as one can convince himself it is allowed by Scripture and could somehow be subsumed under some understanding of the regulative principle.

Now you can go from PCA church to PCA church and not have a clue you are visiting churches of the same denomination. Despite the near universal willingness to have to diversity in “worship styles” I am unconvinced that the diversity is not diversity of substance or the triumph of style over substance. I just don’t see how you can have real unity of doctrine and spirit without unity in the way of worship.

The diversity of worship is often identified as a key differentiating factor between the OPC and PCA. There is certainly a large amount of overlap, but generally speaking, I believe it’s safe to say there is a broader range of diversity in the PCA. And given the recently adopted revisions to the OPC’s Directory of Public Worship, it appears this will certainly be the case for some time.

But worship isn’t the only difference; there are several issues in my opinion. It’s important to note that the OPC voted itself out of existence twice in order to join its close brethren. For various reasons it didn’t work out, and there are even more obstacles to union now than there were 30 years ago.

Rev. Hill identifies a significant tension and suggests that each of the distinctive groups in the PCA could find happy homes in other NAPARC churches or the Evangelical Presbyterian Church (EPC). It will be up to the people of the “movements” within the PCA to substantiate his thesis or prove him incorrect.

If One Believes in the Legitimacy of Same-Sex Marriage

Jared Oliphint — Fri, 29 Mar 2013 19:00:34 +0000

In the discussions surrounding same-sex marriage, it has struck me how difficult it is to get a handle on what secular culture “believes.” Like any large group, beliefs within a group are anything but monolithic. There are inconsistencies in beliefs among members of the same set. Below are a few of the beliefs one cannot consistently hold in addition to believing in the legitimacy of same-sex marriage.

If one believes in the legitimacy of same-sex marriage:

One cannot consistently believe in the illegitimacy of heterosexual marriage.
One cannot consistently believe that marriage is simply “a legal piece of paper” with no further significance.
One cannot consistently believe that someone’s sexual orientation does not matter. In this debate, it undeniably matters.
One cannot consistently believe that someone’s sexual orientation is only a private matter. Part of what is being advocated by same-sex marriage supporters involves a public display of one’s orientation.
One cannot consistently be against “tradition” in every case. There is no empirical, perceivable difference between a same-sex couple living together and a same-sex couple who are married and living together. There must be some acknowledged meaning behind the traditional ceremony, vows, etc.
One cannot consistently deny legitimacy, on the same grounds, to multiple-partner marriage. If loving feelings toward someone is both the necessary and sufficient condition for marriage, nothing inherent in the definition prohibits the possibility that loving feelings can be directed toward more than one person.
One cannot consistently deny that divorce is more significant than a non-marital breakup. If the institution of marriage is more meaningful than mere dating or co-habitation, the severing of that institution must have significance beyond mere legal implications.

Though the current debate keeps getting framed in terms of “rights,” the underlying beliefs regarding the integrity of marriage as an institution (on both sides) reveal some tangled assumptions.

Affirmations and Denials for a Christian Response to Gay Marriage

James J. Cassidy — Wed, 27 Mar 2013 14:08:53 +0000

The following was sent in to my local newspaper for consideration in the editorial page (it was, however, rejected by the editor):

In no way do I pretend to represent the entirety of the Christian community. Some will be happy with what I say here, others not. But I do want to put these affirmations and denials into the public square with the hopes to further the discussion with my neighbors. So, with that said, I present the following 5 affirmations and denials concerning gay marriage from a Christian perspective.

First, we affirm that marriage is designed by God to be between one man and one woman, until death do they part.

We deny the legitimacy of divorce for any other reason than desertion or adultery. Therefore, no-fault divorce has only served to cheapen the institution of marriage.

Second, we affirm that heterosexuals (Christian ones in particular!) have a shameful record of honoring the institution of marriage, and are primarily responsible for the decay of the institution today.

We deny that the homosexual agenda to advance the cause of gay “marriage” is the only, or even primary, threat to the institution. Hetereosexuals were doing a pretty good job of bringing marriage into ruins long before the rise of the modern gay agenda.

Third, we affirm the legitimacy of gay couples wanting access to basic social “rights.” To that end, we affirm visitation rights for same-sex co-habitants, equal pay for equal work, and social acceptance of the person without prejudice.

We deny that anyone has a right to treat another human being with violence or a lack of dignity.

Fourth, we affirm the right of homosexuals to live safely and peaceable in society.

We therefore deny tolerance for violence or bullying in the public schools.

Fifth, we affirm the true and historical meaning of the word “marriage.” We affirm that God is the maker of things, including the institution of marriage, and is the sovereign Lord who rules over all things, including the public square. Therefore, God is the giver of meaning to all of life. He has given in his Word, the Bible, the final revelation of the meaning of all things. And he has defined marriage as a bond between one man and one woman.

We therefore deny that anyone as the right to come along and re-define the institution according to their preferences. We deny that changing the meaning the word will improve the acceptance of gays in society. They should be afforded the basic “rights” of everyone else, including physical protection under the law, without altering the meaning of words.

So much more can be said, but that should get us started. I believe that there are other ways of gaining rights, protection, and acceptance in society than through redefining terms. Furthermore, while I am not willing to accept homosexual behavior as normative or morally acceptable, I am very concerned that homosexual persons receive the same respect and protection as everyone else. I passionately reject bullying in schools. But not just the bullying of homosexuals, but also bullying of skinny kids with glasses and pimples too! This is a human question, not a question of sexual orientation. All people are created in the image of God, and though fallen should be afforded the respect due to an image-bearer of God. But Christians cannot back away from the truth of God’s Word, even and especially in the public square, to hold up heterosexual marriage (with all its failings!) as God’s will and to call all deviations from that sin while warmly offering to all the hope of the Gospel.

Machen Affirmed a Strong Antithesis When Writing on Education

Camden Bucey — Mon, 25 Mar 2013 12:00:03 +0000

In an essay on the importance of Christian scholarship, Machen demonstrated a strong view of the antithesis between believers and unbelievers (so much so that one might be tempted to think he was Dutch).

One thing needs always to be remembered in the Christian Church—true Christianity, now as always, is radically contrary to the natural man, and it cannot possibly be maintained without a constant struggle. A chip that floats downwards with the current is always at peace; but around every rock the waters foam and rage. Show me a professing Christian of whom all men speak well, and I will show you a man who is probably unfaithful to His Lord. (J. Gresham Machen, “The Importance of Christian Scholarship” in Education, Christianity, and the State: Essays by J. Gresham Machen, p. 23.)

Such a view should have significant implications regarding how Christians should live in this world, education being just one prime example.

It Is There and It Should Not Be Silent: Van Til’s Critique of Schaeffer

Daniel Schrock — Thu, 21 Mar 2013 14:00:45 +0000

Many Christians are disconcerted when they see Christian apologists polemicize against each other. Is it not the job of the Christian apologist to defend Christianity to the unbeliever? Why waste time and energy and even create division among Christians by going after fellow Christian apologists who differ from you in method? Are we not doing the cause of Christian apologetics harm when we fight among each other?

There is some validity amidst such concerns. As one who has more than a few polemical bones in his body, I confess that I have often struggled with how I perceive and subsequently how I engage other Christians I disagree with, not just on apologetics but on all manner of theological topics. It is all too easy to begin to see those you disagree with as enemies in need of vanquishing rather than as brothers or sisters in Christ in need of loving correction.

But as hard as it may be to carry out polemics in a spirit of Christian love, we cannot assume that a spirit of Christian love prohibits polemics. The characteristic wisdom of Proverbs ought to shape our thinking here: “Whoever loves discipline loves knowledge, but he who hates reproof is stupid” (Prov. 12:1 ESV). Love and reproof are of a piece in Scripture. Granted, reproof can easily be doled out without love. But, if we are tempered by a spirit of Christ-like love, then we ought not be overly reluctant in opening our mouths to issue words of correction when we are convicted that our brothers or sisters need them.

This does not make us the cold-hearted orthodoxy police, but the body of Christ committed to guarding one another from harmful error in a demeanor of love and the Spirit of love. We easily recognize this in the general fabric of the Christian life. It is no less true in the common task of Christian apologetics. If done in love, it will only sharpen the cause of the defense of the faith.

With this in mind it is worth revisiting the criticisms that Cornelius Van Til made of another titan of Reformed apologetics, Francis Schaeffer. First, I want to revisit some of those criticisms since they are a helpful guard against a perennial temptation that is all too easy to fall into when engaging in apologetic discussions. Second, I want to end this discussion with a reminder of the spirit of loving correction with which Van Til himself understood his criticisms to be made.

The Critique

Van Til’s criticism of Schaeffer is much the same as Van Til’s criticisms of most every Christian apologist he critiques. It is that Schaeffer refuses to be immediately Christian in his discussion of epistemological, metaphysical, and ethical first principles. Schaeffer instead speaks of the necessity of “pre-Evangelism.”^[1] What Schaeffer means by this is getting the non-believer to reckon first with the truth of the external world before confronting him with the truth claims of Scripture. Schaeffer uses the metaphor of a roof to get at how each person has constructed protective barriers of denial in order to allow him to be shielded from the tension of the logical conclusion of their presuppositions and the real world that confronts him. The task of “pre-evangelism” for the apologist is removing that roof. “The Christian, lovingly, must remove the shelter and allow the truth of the external world and of what man is, to beat upon him. When the roof is off, each man must stand naked and wounded before the truth of what is.”^[2]

This seems well and good so far to the apologist who has been shaped by Van Til’s insights. It may seem like Schaeffer is saying that what we need to do is engage in the internal critique of unbelief and deconstruct the façade of the autonomous worldview with the claims of a Biblically consistent Christianity. But that is not quite what Schaeffer is saying. He continues:

The truth that we let in first is not a dogmatic statement of the truth of the Scriptures, but the truth of the external world and the truth of what man himself is. This is what shows him his need. The Scriptures then show him the real nature of his lostness and the answer to it. This, I am convinced, is the true order for our apologetics in the second half of the twentieth century for people ling under the line of despair.^[3]

Schaeffer’s method is a two-step approach to apologetics. The first step is, I believe, what Schaeffer would call “pre-evangelism.” We need to be careful here. For Schaeffer, it is not a classical natural theology in which the apologist argues for the existence of some generic god by use of some form of the traditional theistic proofs. Rather, for Schaeffer, pre-evangelism is much more existential in nature. It is getting man to feel the full weight of his despair before the “external world.”

Hence we begin to deal with “modern man” by preaching at the place where he can understand. Often he understands the horrible point of meaninglessness. Often he recognizes the tension between the real world and the logic of his presuppositions. Often he appreciates the horror of being dead and yet still alive.^[4]

Schaeffer himself describes this method as similar to a Lutheran law/gospel paradigm.^[5] Man is shown his deadness and hopelessness first, and then and only then is the solution from Scripture presented to him. But, the big difference even between the Lutheran law/gospel method and Schaeffer’s two-step approach is that the “law” which Schaeffer presents is not straight away informed by Scripture. It is an existentialized “law,” not a law which drives one to despair because of God’s holiness but a law that drives one to despair because of one’s existential misery. One does not need Moses for this; one only needs Sartre. What makes it pre-evangelism is that the evangel is not allowed to speak immediately. It must stand in line behind the exposure to Schaeffer’s existentialized law.

Another line of pre-evangelism in Schaeffer comes in Schaeffer’s attempts to take the modern relativist and first turn him into a modern objectivist, before turning him into a Christian. “The invitation to act comes only after an adequate basis of knowledge has been given.”^[6] “We are concerned, at this point, not with the content of truth so much as with the concept of what truth is.”^[7]

Granted, Schaeffer does frame his concept of truth ultimately by “the God who is there.” “The Bible, the historic Creeds, and orthodoxy are important because God is there, and, finally, that is the only reason they have their importance.”^[8] This last statement is entirely in line with the convictions of Reformed orthodoxy. The basis for Scripture functioning as our principium cognoscendi for our knowledge of God and His world is God’s own being and knowledge of himself as the principium essendi.^[9] But, Schaeffer’s problem is that Scripture as our principium cognoscendi is only secondarily related to man in the apologetic discussion.

In his defense of rationality one often gets the impression that he is arguing for an objectivism that stands on its own first irrespective of any relation to the Triune God and the Gospel.^[10] It is an attempt to lay first the foundation of philosophical objectivism and then only afterwards to construct the edifice of Christianity upon it. Hence he grants,

But the Jewish and biblical concept of truth is much closer to the Greek than to the modern, in the sense that it does not deny that which is a part of the ‘manishness’ of man—the longing for rationality, that which can be reasonably thought about and discussed in terms of antithesis.^[11]

Schaeffer makes the mistake that so many Christian thinkers are tempted to drift towards in our post-modern climate: to think that somehow the philosophical world before Kant was a safer haven for Biblical Christianity. Against this tendency Van Til levies a cutting criticism against Schaeffer which is worth quoting at length.

It is, to be sure, only in modern times, particularly since Immanuel Kant, that the purely dialectical nature of apostate thinking has revealed itself clearly. But Greek philosophy was based upon the same assumptions as is modern philosophy. There is no “classical view of truth” that is basically any better or any worse than the philosophy of 20^th century man. There is and can be no descent into idolatry that is or can be any deeper than the descent of worshiping the creature more than the Creator. There are no “degrees of apostasy and error” here. Classical non-Christian thinking was as truly relativist as is that of the pragmatism, existentialism, empiricism, or analyticism of our day. There are, no doubt degrees of violence as well as variations in form in which the basic principle of apostasy expresses itself. But the best-dressed and best-mannered suburbanite of whatever time is no more ready, of himself, to surrender his thought and life captive to the obedience of Christ speaking directly to man in the words of Scripture than is the most blatant blasphemer and sensualist.^[12]

Van Til’s critique of Schaeffer at this point, as was said earlier, is much the same as his critique of most other apologists. It will not do to have a theory of truth that separates concept and content as Schaeffer offers. As Van Til is fond of reminding us, the what and the that go together. Denotation and connotation cannot be separated for the Christian. We cannot really point man to the true nature of his misery unless he sees that misery qualified in relation to God.

Existential angst that is a product of man’s navel gazing is not enough. It is not enough for man to feel uncomfortable because he faces physical death and the nausea of being. He must see that his misery is misery precisely because he stands as an autonomous rebel in relation to the holy Triune God who created him. And to do this he must reckon not with a general sense of reality, but he must be confronted by the Christian apologist at once with God’s own speech defining the nature of that misery.

It is also not enough for the Christian apologist to get the non-Christian to accept a correspondence theory of truth. “Modern subjectivism cannot be challenged in terms of any view of objectivity that has not been accepted on the authority of Christ.”^[13] If we really believe with Paul that God has created all things by Christ, that in Christ all things hold together, and that God is also reconciling all things to himself in Christ (Col. 1:15-20), then there is no thing we can know that is not immediately related to Christ.

To turn a non-Christian subjectivist into a non-Christian objectivist is not really a movement at all. He still regards his own mind as the ultimate arbiter of rationality, since whatever counts as a proposition corresponding to the truth of the external world is still left to his autonomous rational judgment. We are still asking him to interpret his world first without reference to Christ.

Thus to engage in pre-evangelism of any sort is to automatically grant that “the external world and the truth of what man is” has meaning and significance apart from Christ presented in the evangel. The Gospel still stands in line behind man’s independent and autonomous assessment of himself and his world. In line with this William Edgar has put his finger on the issue consistent Van Tilians have with Schaeffer,

At bottom, then, Schaeffer’s view of presuppositions does not allow him truly to be transcendental. Rather, he uses presuppositions as a kind of adjunct to various traditional methods in apologetical argument.^[14]

Schaeffer does not immediately confront the non-Christian with the necessary pre-conditions of human knowledge in light of the Trinity and the gospel. Instead, he confronts him with what is supposed to be the truth of the external world as though that world could be interpreted intelligently without immediate reference to the Word of the God who created, defines, upholds, and is redeeming that world.

Van Til’s charge to Schaeffer and those who would take their cue from him is instead to be fearlessly direct with the non-Christian as an apologist. Own your Christian epistemology. Own your Christian metaphysic. Own your Christian ethics. Let your method be immediately shaped by them. If we confess that they are principial in theology, then they cannot be anything less in our defense of that theology.

The Qualification of Love

An unfortunate misunderstanding exists both in the disposition of some committed to Van Til’s apologetic methodology and in some of its critics. Because of Van Til’s penchant for totalizing polemics it is often assumed that he and his followers comb through the historic volumes of Christian theology and apologetics on a mission such as David Hume’s. “Does it contain a consistent outworking of Biblical, Trinitarian, and Reformed truth?” “No.” “Consign it to the flames!”

One can get the impression from Van Tilians (and sometimes from Van Til himself) that any Christian theology or apologetic which is compromised by some taint of autonomous thinking deserves a summary dismissal. Perhaps it is because Van Til frequently seized upon such inconsistencies and then drew them out to what he saw as their logical end. But, even though Van Til pushes us to be tirelessly consistent in our theological and apologetic method, it does not mean that he did not recognize the helpful contributions of those who sometimes found themselves on the sharp end of his polemical scalpel. Such is the case with Schaeffer.

The letter which comprises the first part of his syllabus in which he collected his criticisms of Schaeffer begins and ends with an important qualification. At the opening, Van Til confesses his personal affection for Schaeffer but qualifies that this ought not deter him from speaking openly and frankly to what he sees amiss in his apologetic method.

I now turn to a consideration of Schaeffer’s writings. I ask myself whether they support your contention that they depart from what you call a Reformed method of apologetics. You should remember that I have known Schaeffer for a long time. It will be with reluctance if I grant you your point. On the other hand, I do not want to be carried away by my love for him personally or by the reports of the “good work” that he has done in connection with L’Abri Fellowship. “Good work” is done in God’s kingdom all the time by those who hold to unbiblical views on apologetics and theology.^[15]

Okay. We can sense Van Til’s tongue in cheek dig at the unqualified assessment of Schaeffer’s work as “good” by his use of quotation marks. This could be read as Van Til being uncharitable. On the other hand, it simply could be read as realistic exasperation at a certain tendency that often surfaces in the Church. The good work (yes, good work without quotation marks) that is done in the kingdom is often used as a means to wave away any criticism of that work. If you don’t think this is true, try criticizing Billy Graham in any way whatsoever in front of Evangelicals. You will meet a wall of righteous indignation that surpasses even how Catholics respond to criticism of the Pope.

Just because someone is being used in positive ways to advance the mission of the Church does not mean that they have a sacrosanct status elevated above all critique. Conversely, just because one critiques (or even scathingly critiques) a “good work” does not mean that they do not genuinely believe that there is good being done for the kingdom by that work. I think such is the case with Van Til in his critique of Schaeffer. The rigorous criticism of what he pens in the body of his letter is no reason to doubt the sincerity of that with which he ends his letter:

In conclusion let me reiterate what I said to you at the beginning. I am convinced that Schaeffer is, at heart, committed to a more biblical form of apologetics, than the one he actually presents in his writings so far discussed. I have written as I have written in the hope that he, as my brother in Christ, will stir me up to faithfulness in Christ as I, as his brother in Christ, am stirring him up now. May our common Savior make us ever increasingly useful in his service.^[16]

As we wrestle over the differences between these two men, may Christ do the same for us.

Notes

[1] Francis Schaeffer, The God Who Is There, in The Complete Works of Francis Schaeffer, Vol. 1 (Westchester, IL: Crossway Books), 155.

[2] Ibid, 140.

[3] Ibid, 140-141

[4] Ibid, 141-142.

[5] Ibid, 144.

[6] Ibid, 153.

[7] Ibid, 155.

[8] Ibid, 157.

[9] For more on this see Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics (ed. John Bolt; trans. John Vriend; Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2003-08.), 1:210-214.

[10] This is one of Van Til’s explicit criticisms. The Apologetic Method of Schaeffer, iv.

[11] Schaeffer, Escape from Reason, in The Complete Works of Francis Schaeffer, Vol. 1 (Westchester, IL: Crossway Books), 269.

[12] Van Til, The Apologetic Method of Schaeffer, 6.

[13] Van Til, The Apologetic Method of Schaeffer, 5.

[14] William Edgar, “Two Christian Warriors,” WTJ 57 (1995), 75.

[15] Van Til, The Apologetic Method of Schaeffer, 3.

[16] Ibid, 14.

Bringing Schaeffer and Van Til Together

Camden Bucey — Thu, 21 Mar 2013 10:00:15 +0000

In an essay celebrating the 100th anniversary of Cornelius Van Til’s birth, William Edgar compared Francis Schaeffer to Cornelius Van Til. Much has been made about their different approaches to apologetics, but Dr. Edgar records an interesting encounter between the two that may nuance the divide:

A fascinating anecdote brings out the way that at least on one level Schaeffer actually felt very close to Van Til. He visited Westminster Seminary a number of times, and President Edmund Clowney would try to sit them down together to hash out their differences. On one of these occasions, Clowney recalls, they were in his office, and Van Til tried various ways to start a debate. Whenever he affirmed a particular point, however, Schaeffer replied, “I agree with that.” Finally, perhaps a bit frustrated, Van Til launched into a fifteen-minute summary of his whole apologetic, beginning, as he was fond of doing, with Adam and Eve and going through all of his basic credo, using the many illustrations his students are familiar with. At the end of his speech, Schaeffer, obviously moved, declared: “That is the most beautiful statement on apologetics I’ve ever heard. I wish there had been a tape recorder here. I would make it required listening for all L’Abri workers.” This from a man who did not compliment other theologians easily.

You can read more about Van Til and Schaeffer in the essay, “Two Christian Warriors: Cornelius Van Til and Francis A. Schaeffer Compared” in Westminster Theological Journal, Vol. 57, No. 1, Spring 1995, pp. 57-80. You can also pick up a copy of Dr. Edgar’s new book, Schaeffer on the Christian Life: Countercultural Spirituality.

Union with Christ: Historically Most Basic (Part 3)

Jared Oliphint — Wed, 20 Mar 2013 12:00:57 +0000

In this third post on union with Christ (first post here, second post here), I want to highlight some of the realities that spill out from a full understanding of this crucial doctrine.

In my experience of discussions related to the different facets of salvation, the conversation can quickly or immediately turn to which salvific facet is the greatest motivator for the Christian life. For example, when facing temptation does my adoption take the lead as an organizing reality that drives me to fight against sin as an adopted child of God? Does my justification and the reality that I am no longer shackled with condemning guilt spur me to conquer sin and to face a fallen world today?

While those kinds of questions are vitally important for pastoral counsel and the Christian walk, they are not addressing the same topic that was mentioned in the previous two posts. There is a difference between a believer’s salvific reality in the transition from wrath to grace and the motivation of individuals in their Christian walk. So we can ask the question this way: Based on 1) the salvific reality of union with Christ as most foundational and 2) the benefits of salvation that flow from that union, how does that salvific structure permeate my life? I’ll briefly highlight just a few implications.

1) A person-centered understanding of salvation rather than a benefit-centered understanding puts proper focus on the ongoing relationship with Christ as our covenant Mediator, both at the time of transition from wrath to grace and no less powerfully at every subsequent point in our lives.

2) Grounding our salvific benefits in union with Christ helps us work out our salvation (Phil 2:12) in a way that focuses properly on the Benefactor, not our benefits in themselves. Our justification, sanctification, and adoption are only as sweet as the Person who earned them for us.

3) Union with Christ should naturally point us both to redemption applied to us and, more basically, to the redemption that Christ accomplished for us. That redemption was accomplished not only on the cross but through Christ’s life, death, burial, resurrection, and ascension. This helps us broaden our understanding of redemption and points us back to the Person who accomplished all aspects of redemption.

4) Being “in Christ” is necessarily linked to the covenantal aspect of salvation. Union with Christ is the most fundamental reality of being in God’s covenant, while being “in Adam” is the most fundamental reality of being outside God’s covenant (Rom 5:17). Adam’s sin was a covenantal breech that simultaneously caused 1) guilt, 2) corruption, and 3) alienation for everyone under the curse. Christ’s redemptive accomplishment was a covenantal fulfillment that simultaneously applies 1) justification, 2) sanctification (definitive and progressive), and 3) adoption for everyone under God’s grace.

5) Our union with Christ is a communal, churchly union. The church is not primarily a set of individuals who have been saved. The church is that, but is more primarily a people God is gathering together in his Son to the end of the age and beyond.

6) Christ’s pattern – suffering unto glory (Heb 2:9-10), death to life – is likewise our pattern as members of his body (1 Cor. 12:12f). In union with Christ be both died with him and resurrected in him (Rom 6:5f). We are, for example, justified by his blood (Rom 5:9) and his resurrection (Rom 4:25).

7) Finally, “if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation” (2 Cor 5:17). Union with Christ is an eschatological reality for the believer. As Christ has conquered death and ushered in the age to come (in the midst of the not yet), in Christ as the firstfruits we are the harvest he is gathering.

While these descriptions do not even scratch the surface of our salvific reality, can you see why this picture can be more helpful than, for example, simply “remembering” an aspect of our conversion? When we wake in the morning to face the day – the hardships, the blessings, the mundane, etc. of being in this world – a robust understanding of our salvation should be in the mind of God’s people, equipping them to work out all aspects of their salvation. While discussions surrounding union with Christ can sometimes get technical and abstract, it is my hope that church leaders far more capable than myself will continue to work on both the theological details and how those details shape our daily Christian lives before God.

Union with Christ: Historically Most Basic (Part 2)

Jared Oliphint — Tue, 19 Mar 2013 14:00:04 +0000

In my previous post I cited two recent works that include a substantial amount of Reformed thinkers during the 16^th and 17^th centuries who understood union with Christ as the most basic category for individual salvation. These Reformed figures believed that union with Christ is foundational and that the benefits of justification, sanctification, and adoption flow from that union.

What was the point of the post? Two points: first, understanding union with Christ as the most basic category for salvation has just about as much precedent during the 16^th and 17^th century as one could hope for. This was not an understanding of salvation by a few fringe theologians, but the mainstream understanding at the time of Calvin and his contemporaries through the era of the English Puritans and the Westminster Confession. When Reformed trajectories were being established, the bulk of Reformed thinkers understood Scripture to teach that our union with Christ grounded the benefits of salvation.

Second, it’s important to know what a list of quotations does accomplish and does not accomplish. Though historical quote piles can sometimes seem intimidating and/or appear to settle a theological discussion, the most a quote list can do is establish weighty precedent for a position. That precedent can often be extremely important in a discussion, but it is not the same thing as establishing whether a theological belief is, in fact, true. Historical precedent from Reformed thinkers is often related to whether a theological belief is true, but it is not identical to a theological truth claim.

Demonstrating the truth of a theological belief involves exegetical support, biblical-theological work, and systematic-theological integration, in addition to historical precedent for the position. Any of these methods used in isolation from the others will leave gaps in the integrity of the theological truth for which one argues. Exegesis in total isolation from systematic, biblical-theological, and historical concerns leaves an interpreter vulnerable to repeating the mistakes of those who have dealt with the same material in the past (historical theology), and it unnaturally divorces a text from where it stands within the history of special revelation (biblical theology) and the whole of biblical teaching on the topic (systematic theology). To argue a theological point accurately and effectively, all these elements should organically be involved.

Though I am personally thrilled to see recent publications fill a gap and address the Reformed historical precedent for understanding union with Christ as most basic to our salvation, these crucial historical works must be understood within the broader thrust of works that argue for the same position exegetically, biblical-theologically, and systematically. Much work has been done on these topics (here, here, and here [with a republication from P&R coming soon]), but more work remains.

What does all this talk of “union” matter for our daily walk? We’ll look at that question in the next post.

Union with Christ: Historically Most Basic (Part 1)

Jared Oliphint — Mon, 18 Mar 2013 11:00:55 +0000

Two notable works have come out fairly recently: A Puritan Theology edited by Joel Beeke and Mark Jones (see sample chapter on union with Christ, justification, and regeneration here), and Calvin and the Reformed Tradition by Richard Muller. Part of what makes these works notable are the conclusions found in both works regarding union with Christ for salvation. In this first post, I’ll simply offer the spadework of quotations from each of these books. (The italics within each quote is my emphasis.) In a second post, I hope to answer how these historical examples, summaries, and conclusions function. In a third and final post, I comment on why this topic matters for your Christian walk.

A Puritan Theology:

“In the judgment of several significant Puritan theologians, union with Christ, not justification by faith, is the chief blessing a Christian receives from God. The believer’s union with Christ enables him to receive all the benefits of Christ’s work, including justification, adoption, and sanctification.” (487)
“Owen claims that union with Christ is the cause of all other graces a believer receives: ‘Hence is our adoption, our justification, our sanctification…our perseverance, our resurrection, our glory.’ Therefore, union with Christ is the ground of the imputation of Christ’s righteousness to believers. Owen’s lengthy work on justification (volume 5) confirms the logical priority of union with Christ before other graces such as justification.” (489)
“Ball affirms that faith is the ‘band whereby we are united unto Christ; after Union followeth Communion with him; Justification, Adoption, Sanctification be the benefits and fruits of Communion.’” (490)
“John Preston (1587–1628) likewise affirms that ‘to be in Christ is the ground of all salvation.’” (490)
Thomas Cole (1627–1697) “has carefully noted how all these benefits come from Christ, and therefore regeneration must be seen in the light of our union with Christ.” (491)
“William Bridge (1600–1671) said that ‘union is the root of communion’ and ‘union is the ground of communion.’ In context, Bridge is explaining the benefits of our union with Christ.” (491)
“Obadiah Grew (1607–1689) said, ‘Union is the ground of all our comfort, and privilege we have by the Lord Jesus Christ: Our communion springs from our Union with him.’” (491)

Calvin and the Reformed Tradition

“Calvin was hardly an isolated figure in the early development of Reformed thought on union with Christ and that the Reformation-era connection of the doctrine of union with Christ with the earliest forms of what has come to be called the ordo salutis was an exegetical conclusion that did not disappear from Reformed approaches to the application of salvation in the era of orthodoxy, only to be replaced by a rigid chronological ordering of the stages of redemption, but was in fact incorporated carefully into Reformed orthodox language of the application of salvation.” (204)
For Beza, “both justification and sanctification follow on union with Christ” and “both justification and sanctification arise from union with Christ” (224)
For David Pareus, “Union with Christ and ultimate conformity with Christ, therefore, are the theme of the chapter and the sequence of the application of salvation rests on it” (227)
For Daniel Featley, “Ingrafting into Christ, then, sums up the entire initial argument of the epistle [of Romans] and appears as the foundation of the order or application of salvation.” (228)
“The works of theologians like William Perkins, Amandus Polanus, and William Ames in the era of early orthodoxy evidence a continuing emphasis on the doctrine of union with Christ and on an understanding of the union as foundational to the work of salvation in believers.” (229)
“Ames understands union with Christ as the proximate ground or cause of the work of salvation.” (234)
“The union, however, precedes and stands as the foundation of the other aspects or parts of the of the application of Christ. Indeed, all that follows—in Ames’ series, justification, adoption, sanctification, and glorification—are understood as ‘blessings flowing from union with Christ.’” (235)
“Of the full series of theological loci written in the seventeenth century, several follow out the argument found in Ames’ Medulla in grounding the entire sequence of salvation in union with Christ.” Downame, Ainsworth, Edward Leigh, Edward Polhill. (236-37)
“Thomas Goodwin firmly grounded his understanding of the application of salvation in union with Christ.” (238)
“All acts of God’s justifying us depend upon union with Christ.” (238)
“All of the formulations that we have examined identify union with Christ as the basis of the work of salvation.” (239)
“Union with Christ was not understood as a final product of the ordo salutis dependent on completion of all steps in the series—rather it was understood and typically explicitly identified as the very basis of the sequence of the application of salvation.” (240)
“In a large number of the later writers, union with Christ remained foundational to the entire sequence of the application of Christ’s work.” (243)

The Foundation and Purpose of Christian Suffering

Camden Bucey — Sat, 09 Mar 2013 11:00:11 +0000

In Philippians 1:12-13 Paul writes, “I want you to know, brothers, that what has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel, so that it has become known throughout the whole imperial guard and to all the rest that my imprisonment is for Christ.” Verse 13 is especially challenging in the Greek. It reads,

ὥστε τοὺς δεσμούς μου φανεροὺς ἐν Χριστῷ γενέσθαι ἐν ὅλῳ τῷ πραιτωρίῳ καὶ τοῖς λοιποῖς πάσιν.

More literally: “So that, my chains revealed/manifest/known in Christ have become to the entire praetorium and to all the rest.”

The difficulty lies in how the datival phrases relate to the verb γενέσθαι and to each other. The phrase ἐν Χριστῷ (in Christ) is especially awkward, seeing that it follows φανεροὺς (revealed, manifest, known). Does ἐν Χριστῷ describe the way that Paul’s imprisonment has been made known, that it has been revealed in Christ? Are Paul’s chains somehow “in Christ”? Is ἐν Χριστῷ being used instrumentally, adverbially, or in some other sense? In other words, what has become known and how?

One option is to understand Paul to be saying that the imperial guard has come to know that he is literally imprisoned because of his religious affiliation. Paul’s imprisonment is related to his ministry. Paul even notes how some of the brothers are preaching Christ out of envy, rivalry, and selfish ambition in order to increase his affliction in prison (Phil 1:15-17). Paul’s sufferings must then be related to the gospel ministry.

But Paul may be introducing intentional ambiguity, using δεσμούς μου (my chains) in two ways. It is true that he is literally in chains for being a Christian, but it is also true that he is a bondservant of Christ (Rom 1:1; Gal 1:10). In one sense Paul’s chains belong to the imperial guard, but in another, even more significant sense, Paul’s chains belong to Christ Jesus. Having been delivered from the power of sin and death, Paul has been given to a new master; he is a slave of righteousness (Rom 6:18). He has been inseparably bound to Christ by the Spirit, who conforms his people to Christ’s image (Rom 8:29).

There are two important aspects to Paul’s understanding of salvation: being united to Christ and being conformed to the image of the one to whom we are united. Lest we fall prey to the same error that besets many televangelists, we must be careful not to truncate this latter aspect. The image to which believers are being conformed is not merely the glorious image we see in Christ’s resurrection. It also involves suffering and death. Seeing these complementary aspects of salvation—union with Christ and christomorphic image conformity—we should then come to recognize the inextricable link between Christ, his personal sufferings, and his mystical body, the Church. This is why Paul speaks so frequently of his sufferings as the very sufferings of Christ. Consider the following:

But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh. So death is at work in us, but life in you. (2 Cor 4:7-12)

But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith—that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead. (Phil 3:7-11)

It’s clear that Paul understood his sufferings to be more than mere representations of Christ’s sufferings or consequences of religious affiliation. Indeed, his sufferings were Christ’s sufferings, because Paul’s entire life is characterized by his union with Christ. He declares this emphatically in Galatians 2:20,

I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. (Gal 2:20)

Christ is most basic to Paul’s life, not simply as its source, but as its comprehensive, vivifying principle. Amazingly, this is true for all those who receive and rest upon Jesus Christ alone for salvation. And so whenever we consider Christian suffering, we must understand it within this grid. It is patterned after the life of our Lord (cf. Phil 2:5-11), and therefore is characterized by suffering unto glory. Christian suffering is neither ultimate nor meaningless, but comes with an end in view—both chronologically and teleologically. It terminates at the return of Jesus Christ, and it culminates in being raised unto glory to worship him forever.

Nota bene: Perhaps the most important thing I’ve read on Christian suffering is “The Usefulness of the Cross” by Dr. Richard B. Gaffin, Jr. It will be a tough read for most Christians, but it’s beautiful and richly rewarding.

Open Thread: Is There a Form of Suffering in the Intermediate State?

Camden Bucey — Fri, 08 Mar 2013 20:18:49 +0000

From time to time, I’d like to kick-start a discussion by asking a thought-provoking theological question. Proverbs 27:17 says, “Iron sharpens iron and one man sharpens another.” It is my hope that by conversing with others regarding a biblical response to the question, we might grow in our knowledge of Christ and his great salvation. In the spirit of fruitful discussion, here is our first question:

Believers who have died are with the Lord (Luke 23:43; Phil 1:23; cf. WLC 86), but until the Lord returns in glory their souls are separated from their bodies (Rom 8:23; Ps 16:19, 1 Thess 4:14, 16; Isa 57:2). Is it proper to characterize this separation as form of suffering?

Eschatology: A Help in Suffering

Jared Oliphint — Fri, 08 Mar 2013 16:00:45 +0000

In a chapter titled, “Theonomy and Eschatology” from the book Theonomy: A Reformed Critique, Richard B. Gaffin, Jr. explains how a proper understanding of eschatology can help us in times of suffering:

7 But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. 8 We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; 9 persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; 10 always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. 11 For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh. 12 So death is at work in us, but life in you. (2 Corinthians 4:7-12, ESV)

“This treasure in jars of clay” graphically captures the tension at the heart of this statement, and of the apostle’s overall understanding of the nature of Christian existence between the resurrection and return of Christ…

Paul intends to say, as long as believers are in “the mortal body,” “the life of Jesus” manifests itself as “the dying of Jesus”; the latter describes the existence mode of the former. Until the resurrection of the body at his return Christ’s resurrection-life finds expression in the church’s sufferings (and, as will become clear presently, nowhere else—so far as the existence and calling of the church are concerned); the locus of Christ’s ascension-power is the suffering church…

A key to the intended impact of verse 10 is to recognize that both “and”s (following “Christ” and “resurrection”) are not simply coordinating but explanatory; they do not merely connect, they explicate. In step-wise fashion Paul progressively traces a single, composite notion: Knowing the power of his resurrection is not something in addition to knowing Christ, nor is knowing the fellowship of his sufferings a further addition to both. Rather, the controlling consideration is union with Christ in his death and resurrection such that to “know”/experience Christ is to experience the power of his resurrection and that, in turn, is to experience the fellowship of his sufferings—a total reality that can then be summed up as conformity to Christ’s death.

By virtue of union with Christ, Paul is saying, the power of Christ’s resurrection is realized in the sufferings of the believer; sharing in Christ’s sufferings is the way the church manifests his resurrection-power. Again, as in II Corinthians 4:10-11, the locus of eschatological life is Christian suffering; the mark—the indelible, ineradicable impression—left on the existence of the church by the formative power of the resurrection is the cross. And, further, this is not some merely temporary state of affairs incidental to the circumstances of the church in the apostle’s own day but is for all—the whole church in whatever time and place—who aspire to the resurrection of the dead (v. 11)…

18 For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. 19 For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. 20 For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope 21 that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. 22 For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. 23 And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. (Romans 8:18-23, ESV)

Romans 8:18ff especially disclose the breadth of what ought to be our conception of Christian suffering. Suffering has to be seen in the context of the “frustration”/“futility” (mataiotes), the “bondage to decay” to which the entire creation has been subjected, not by the inherent nature of things but because of God’s curse on Adam’s sin (v. 20-21 are, in effect, a Pauline commentary on Gen. 3). Suffering is a function of the futility/decay principle pervasively at work in the creation since the fall; suffering is everything that pertains to creaturely experience of this death-principle…

This revelation/liberation of believers (note: along with and inseparable from the liberation of creation as a whole) is the future dimension of their adoption and will take place at the time of the redemption (=resurrection) of the body (v. 23), not before. Until then, at Christ’s return, the suffering/futility/decay principle in creation remains in force, undiminished (but sure to be overcome); it is an enervating factor that cuts across the church’s existence, including its mission, in its entirety. The notion that this frustration factor will be demonstrably reduced, and the church’s suffering service noticeably alleviated and even compensated, in a future era before Christ’s return is not merely foreign to this passage; it trivializes as well as blurs both the present suffering and future hope/glory in view. Until his return, the church remains one step behind its exalted Lord; his exaltation means its (privileged) humiliation, his return (and not before), its exaltation…

Gaffin explains, as Paul did, that our very existence in this unredeemed world, even and especially as believers, carries with it expectations of suffering, regardless of personal circumstance. Our experience is patterned after Christ’s experience: suffering unto glory. How relevant is this to the prosperity gospel, or any other false gospel that promises worldly comforts as reward for following Christ?

A Case for Singing in Family Worship

Brett Mahlen — Thu, 07 Mar 2013 11:00:40 +0000

When I first came to embrace the Reformed faith I was introduced to something which I later found out was very rare in the Reformed community, though it used to be much more common: singing in family worship. I was just a young single man. It was strange to me that the pastor under whose ministry I sat would distribute hymnals to his large family and guests and they would sing after eating. I was unfamiliar with such a practice as I had not grown up in a Christian home. When I first became a believer I spent most of my time in worship either being drowned out by an organ and a large full gospel choir or a rock and roll band. Singing doesn’t matter when you are drowned out. In a small Reformed and Presbyterian church (and most of them are small) you are not drowned out by anything. You worship the Trinity by singing to Him—Father, Son and Holy Spirit—and you hear your own voice. Most of our churches are accompanied by a piano, some are unaccompanied. Many people struggle with such simple worship because of shame. Many do not believe they sing well and so they mouth the words, so the idea of singing at home or in a pastor’s home can be jarring. I hope to calm your fears.

In this brief essay I would make the case for singing in family worship, even if you are not musically gifted. Husbands and fathers, it is wise to lead your family in this holy practice, the rewards are beyond what you realize. Young men who are considering marriage, it is profitable to plan now to lead your wife and children one day by singing. Single people, this is an excellent way to redeem your singleness and prepare for marriage if that is your desire.

Biblical Case

I won’t spend a lot of time making the case for singing from the Bible. It is very obvious to any Christian that singing is a trans-testamental imperative. We are called to sing, both in the Old and New Testaments:

OT: Psalm 98:1: “Oh sing to the LORD a new song, for he has done marvelous things!” (quotations from the ESV)

NT: Colossians 3:16: “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God.”

Only a few comments need to be made about the verses above. 1) Hundreds more verses could be used to make the case. 2) I will avoid the case for/against exclusive Psalmody here, which is for another time and place. What is important is that families sing together according to the liberty of their own conscience. 3) The people of old often sang as a result of seeing God’s great acts of redemptive-history. We are recipients of God’s grace as a result of Christ’s death and resurrection. We have received redemption from bondage to the Egypt of our souls. We must sing!

One Proof-Text?

If you were to ask me if I have one proof-text to support why we should worship God by singing in family worship, I would not have one. But then again, I don’t have one proof-text to support the Trinity, infant baptism, worshipping on Sunday or giving the Lord’s Supper to female believers. Make no mistake, I believe in every one of these, and a case can be made from multiple Bible passages that each of these is true by “good and necessary consequence” (WCF 1:6). While family singing does not rise to the level of the Trinity and the other doctrines and practices above, we could make an argument drawn from a number of passages.

The Argument

A thorough argument would go beyond the scope of this essay. However, 1) it should be basic to every Reformed believer that fathers are the head of the household (under ordinary circumstances; widows, divorcees qualify as head of household in the absence of husbands), and they bear a spiritual responsibility over those under their roof. 2) Family worship and private worship are preparation for the Lord’s Day. We do not read the Bible or have personal devotions as an end in themselves; these should be preparation for hearing the word corporately preached on the Lord’s Day. Similarly, if we want to glorify God on Sunday in song, we should be preparing to sing the other six days of the week. So the best way to do this would be to sing as a family.

Enjoy Him Forever

Furthermore, you will notice if you sing together, this will be among the richest activities you will partake of as a family. If you read the Bible, pray, and do a little catechism in family worship you are doing well. If you add singing, you will find that your joy in the Lord is made even greater. We are called to “enjoy God forever” (WSC 1), and you will enjoy God by singing with your family. The richness of your family worship over food will be enhanced by singing. You will find yourselves memorizing favorite hymns. Your pre-literate children will walk around the house singing to themselves what you have sung as a family.

Baby Steps

You might be thinking, “I am not musical, I could never do that,” or “I am the worst singer in the world.” I guarantee you are not the worst singer in the world; that is a title I hold onto quite tenaciously. I hope it is not cliché but it is true that, “God does not call the qualified, he qualifies the called.” Following are some practical steps to get started, even if you are the second least equipped person in the world musically (I being the first).

1) Purchase or borrow hymnals or Psalters. If you can’t afford them you can print hymns off the internet. If possible, every literate person in your household should have a hymnal or something printed off the internet. 2) Start with the Doxology or Gloria Patri. They are short, easy and you may already have them memorized! 3) Purchase hymn or Psalm CDs and sing along with the CD. The Orthodox Presbyterian Church also has free hymn files for the 1961 Trinity Hymnal (www.opc.org) along with which you can sing after clicking on play. 4) Variety is not the spice of life. Sing the same songs over and over again. You will be surprised at the depth of each hymn or Psalm after multiple passes through them. Soon you will have a hymn memorized, and you will be hungering for a new one. If your family memorizes a hymn together you won’t need hymnals if you decide to sing while driving in your car. 5) Choose your favorites; there is no reason to sing hymns you don’t like. 6) If you have no means at all, sing Amazing Grace to the tune of Gilligan’s Island, I am not kidding, (You are doing it in your head now aren’t you?) unless you would find that irreverent. 7) If you are too pressed for time, sing the Psalm of Haste: Psalm 117 (unless you prefer the hymns from #2 above). In my family, like any, there are circumstances when you have little or no time to sing. In those times we sing the Psalm of Haste (Hymn 29 in the Trinity Hymnal), the shortest Psalm in the Bible. 8) If you are not ready for singing as a family at least read a hymn in family worship, the rhythm of the poetry will be musical to your minds. 9) Be patient; you will make mistakes, babies will cry, kids will act out, phones will ring, etc. Enjoy the process and smile!

Conclusion

Much more could be written but I hope this will encourage contemporary believers to remember a forgotten practice. Sing to the Lord on the Lord’s Day; prepare to do so as a family on the other six days! Glorify and enjoy!

What You See Is NOT What You Get: The Word of God and Screen Technology

Pierce Taylor Hibbs — Tue, 05 Mar 2013 13:00:03 +0000

Twenty-one years. If you or I live to be sixty-five years old, we will have spent nearly one third of our lives staring at screens—computers, televisions, tablets, cell phones, etc.^[1] If you’re gracious enough to read through this post, adding a few more minutes to your life’s tally, I hope you’ll emerge a more critical user of screens and of media in general. This, I admit, is no small task. To be a critical user of media takes constant practice and attention, for to assess what is closest to us—objects and devices felicitous with our routine—seems to run counter to the routine itself: we insult the comfort of ignorant iteration when we cross-examine its effects on other parts of our lives. We are not in the practice of examining an ordinary and familiar action, and that’s what keeps it ordinary and familiar. With screens, as with any medium, we are bound to meet harmful effects of this ignorance unless we turn to Scripture to guide our use and understanding of a particular medium.

Media: Evasive Influences

Before we get to using media critically, we need to understand what a medium is. For our purposes, a medium is anything used to achieve a desired end. What we need to notice is that whenever we use a piece of technology (i.e., a medium)—whether it be a fork, a pencil, a car, clothing, a computer, or a television—it affects (1) our abilities and perceptions, and, because of this, (2) it affects how we engage with the world in which we live.

Now, human bodies are one of God’s most amazing creations. They adapt so efficiently to a medium that we seldom notice what is happening. Before we learned to hold a pencil, our fingers did not “know” how to position themselves to grip and angle a thin, six-inch rod. Now we pick up pencils without a shadow of a thought. We have adapted to the medium, and because we have adapted, our abilities and perceptions have changed.

This is, in part, what media theorists have tried to explain to people: media “act on us” just as much as we act on them. Take the pencil, for example. It appears that we simply write words down on a piece of paper, and that’s it; this is simply all the pencil does. In fact, a pencil allows internal, abstract ideas to be made external and concrete. I can think about how I am awed by seeing a red-tailed hawk perched atop a telephone pole, biding his time and dreaming of field mice, but the pencil, along with the medium of language, allows me to represent that awe outside of my mind so that others can view and respond to it. The pencil combats the mantra that “the mind is a prison”; it provides me with a key, so to speak, with which I can unlock my thoughts and feelings and share them with others. Because a pencil draws out abstract things from our minds and places them outside of us, we may feel frustrated when we cannot manifest these feelings or thoughts within the bounds of the medium. If you have ever felt frustrated by this, welcome to the wonderful world of writing. Shakespeare and John Milton suffered from the same problem, though perhaps they did a better job than you or I at disguising it.

So, the pencil “acts on us” just as all other media do; they change us in the two ways mentioned above: in our abilities and perceptions, and in affecting our engagement with the world around us—our expectations, frustrations, and desires.

The Effects of Screens

We must ask, then, in what ways does the screen medium “act on us”? This question is all the more exigent for Christians because Christian revelation (Scripture) is “disclosed by the word.”^[2] As a medium, language is relational, just as God is relational. In fact, “the Trinitarian character of God is the deepest starting point for understanding language.”^[3] God related to Himself with words even before creation, using what we might think of as an inter-Trinitarian tongue.^[4] As His creatures, our relationships are the fruit of spoken and written words. If language is a medium based in the Trinity, if it was used to create all things (Gen 1) and to restore all things (Christ is the Word of God), then shouldn’t we engage carefully and critically with a medium that tends to marginalize written and spoken words by bringing images to the fore of every communicative act and “screening” us from authentic engagement with people in our immediate environment?^[5] I should hope so.

Here are three ways in which screens “act on us.” First, if we imagine screens as virtual windows, they affect us by allowing us to remove ourselves cognitively from any environment by looking into virtual spaces. We may be physically present in a living room when we are watching ESPN, but our minds are elsewhere. True enough, paintings and pictures have acted as “windows” throughout history, but nothing so enthralling as the light-based screen medium has so easily drawn our minds into virtual spaces. Screens act on us by giving us access to other worlds—times, places, fictions, etc.

Second, screens act on us by encouraging immediacy. There is no sub-medium within screens (television, movies, web browsing) that fosters patience in us. Just think of how frustrated you were the last time you tried to load a webpage and waited more than a few seconds. This immediacy disseminates to other areas of our lives; it becomes ingrained in our pattern of expectation to the point where we expect immediacy from other people and from God. The time and patience fostered by language have in some ways corroded since the introduction of screen technology. While the screen may answer our demand for immediacy, it has potential to downplay our need for language-based communion—both with each other and with God. Screens act on us by fueling an already expansive desire for immediacy and efficiency that has the potential to short-circuit our relationships—relationships formed, sustained, and nurtured by spoken and written words.

Third, screens work on us by allowing us to be detached and isolated and yet at the same time to feel connected. One of the reasons why we feel detached is that when we use screens it becomes impossible to be wholly invested in one environment—either the environment around us or the virtual environment made available by the screen. One author suggests that when we are surrounded by screens, we are easily fragmented, torn between two “spaces” and yet effectively not a part of either one of them. She argues that

the computer screen’s new connective possibilities further a tension between being ‘both here and there’ . . . and being ‘neither here nor there’—being overcome by so many screen-reliant spaces as to be effectively prevented from being consciously present in any of them.^[6]

In our attempt to be in more than one place at the same time, we end up being “neither here nor there.” So, screens act on us by creating a tension between multiple environments, one physical and the other virtual.

Of course, these effects can be mitigated if we are critical users of screen-based media. But what does this look like? How can we be users of screen media in a way that is biblically prescribed? We have to start by keeping spoken and written language primary in our daily activities, both because language is relational and essential to us as creatures and also because we have always needed God’s Word in order to see the world correctly. We must know how to see the world aright before we can redemptively employ a medium that caters to our eyes.

Through the Ears to the Eyes

We’ve always needed revelation to use our eyes properly. Though after the fall, “we grow in understanding reliably only when the Bible has a central role in dissipating the cobwebs of sin,”^[7] even before the fall we needed special revelation to see the world aright. Van Til writes that “even in Paradise man was never meant to study nature by means of observation and experiment without connection with positive supernatural thought communication given him by God.”^[8] He continues, “If even in Paradise man was meant to interpret nature in terms of self, and both in the light of the supernatural communication of God’s thoughts with respect to the course of history as a whole, how much the more should man as sinner seek to understand nature in relation to self and to this self as interpreted in Scripture.”^[9]

We have always needed God’s special revelation because without it we are bound to interpret the world incorrectly. This was the case before the fall, and, to a far greater degree, is the case now, for “man’s eye and ear and all his senses have been greatly weakened through the effects of sin.”^[10] This weakening means that we not only see poorly, but we have become even more confused as to how to use the sense of sight as creatures of God.

The initial confusion came in Genesis 3 when Eve attempted to use her sight in isolation from God’s word. Eve’s eyes did not in themselves deceive her; there was not an irresistible optical appeal to the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. She was drawn into deceit not by sight but by language—the words of the serpent suggested she could operate outside of God’s instruction.

The most important teaching concerning the medium of human sight in Genesis 3 is that sight involves more than just the eyes. In fact, the proclamation of the psalmist in Ps 19:8 speaks to the heart of the fall: “the commandment of the Lord is pure, enlightening the eyes.” God’s commandment, His Word, is what enlightens our eyes, not any act that we can commit in feigned independence from Him. Adam and Eve needed some guidance, some verbal command of God in order to see properly. It is when they exchange this command for the words of the serpent that their vision becomes obstructed; their doubt of God’s words functioned as a wall blocking their peripheral vision. They saw only what was before them (the forbidden fruit, on which they now focused because of their allegiance to the serpent’s words) rather than what was all around them (the rest of God’s provision). If our depraved sense of sight has longed for pictures without reference to God’s Word, our renewed sense of sight in Christ re-sounds the original call for our eyes to be used in subordination to that Word.

Processing this fact in light of screen technology suggests that we must be careful to hold Scripture’s prerogatives ahead of the world’s. When the world demands efficiency—even at the cost of fellowship—God’s Word demands relationship. When the world tries to engage us with shallow, emotional messages, God’s Word teaches patience, coherence, and deep meaning related by the most trustworthy speaker. It is only when God’s Word is viewed as primary in our engagement with a medium that we will use that medium in a way that complements the redemptive work of the gospel.

I leave you with two simple points: (1) we need to be conscious of the effects of the screen medium because some of these affects negatively influence our position as relational creatures of God; (2) we need to go through God’s Word to see anything clearly, for His Word was always meant to be in a governing position over our senses. Given these two imperatives, we need to ask ourselves continually how our abilities and perceptions are being changed by screens and how they are shaping the way in which we engage with the world. For Christians, these questions must be followed by another: are these perceptions of and engagements with the world biblically prescribed? We might ask, more specifically, is God’s chosen medium of language being shouldered out of the way by our fascination with images and virtual spaces?

In short, for Christians, what we see on a screen is not what we get. What we see is a message (often pictorial), delivered by a messenger and delivered through a medium. To focus only on the message is to forget how critical means are to an end and how the character of the messenger has a bearing on the truth of the message. What we see needs to be checked by what we’ve heard through God’s Word. We see through what He has spoken in order to see clearly what He has made. When we trust a screen-mediated message uncritically, we risk making a mistake that is hauntingly similar to that of Eve in Genesis 3.

Works Cited

Frame, John M. The Doctrine of the Word of God. Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2010.

Mondloch, Kate. Screens: Viewing Media Installation Art. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2010.

Pike, Kenneth. Language in Relation to a Unified Theory of the Structure of Human Behavior. 2^nd rev. ed. Paris: Mouton, 1967.

Poythress, Vern S. Redeeming Science: A God-Centered Approach. Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2006.

_____. In the Beginning Was the Word: Language—A God-Centered Approach. Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2009.

Van Til, Cornelius. An Introduction to Systematic Theology: Prolegomena and the Doctrines of Revelation, Scripture, and God. Edited by William Edgar. 2^nd ed. Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2007.

Notes

[1] Brian Stelter, “8 Hours a Day Spent on Screens, Study Finds,” New York Times, March 26, 2009, http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/27/business/media/27adco.html (accessed September 15, 2011).

[2] John M. Frame, The Doctrine of the Word of God (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2010), 15; emphasis added.

[3] Verb Sheridan Poythress, In the Beginning Was the Word: Language—A God-Centered Approach (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2009), 17.

[4] This is inference based on the plural cohortative verb נַֽעֲשֶׂ֥ה (naʿᵃśeh) in Gen 1:26. Some have argued that this is a “plural of majesty,” but I find this argument unconvincing. Given the canonical teaching that God is relational and triune, it makes perfect sense for God to commune with Himself in making a creature after His own image and likeness.

[5] This is not to say that images do not communicate. This is obviously not true. Think of how efficiently a green light communicates to you as you drive down the street. Kenneth Pike makes a helpful distinction between verbal and non-verbal behavior. Non-verbal behavior (e.g., dancing, the flashing of a traffic light—which is a kind of behavior, given that man has devised it) still communicates a message, but that message must be supplemented by verbal or written explanation. It is this verbal and written part of language that tends to be marginalized by screen technology, which presents images with an immediacy that is not possible with verbal or written language, the latter being linear and coherent, the former being readily received by emotions and ingrained perceptions. See Pike, Language in Relation to a Unified Theory of the Structure of Human Behavior, 2^nd rev. ed. (Paris: Mouton, 1967), 26–27.

[6] Kate Mondloch, Screens: Viewing Media Installation Art (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2010), 79.

[7] Vern S. Poythress, Redeeming Science: A God-Centered Approach (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2006), 47.

[8] Cornelius Van Til, An Introduction to Systematic Theology: Prolegomena and the Doctrines of Revelation, Scripture, and God, ed. William Edgar, 2^nd ed. (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2007), 126. See also 128 and 132.

[9] Ibid., 151.

[10] Ibid., 163.

The Digital World is a Selective World

Camden Bucey — Tue, 05 Mar 2013 11:00:15 +0000

In his post “The Christian Leader in the Digital Age,” Albert Mohler raises a number of important issues for Christians (and Christian leaders) to consider in light of this generation’s technological advancements. Namely, is the digital world “real”? He writes,

Leaders who talk about the real world as opposed to the digital world are making a mistake, a category error. While we are right to prioritize real face-to-face conversations and to find comfort and grounding in stable authorities like the printed book, the digital world is itself a real world, just real in a different way.

There is still a stigma attached to digital media and online relationships. If a book isn’t available in a physical bookstore, we assume there’s something substandard about it. If you met your girlfriend online, you’ve probably felt just a wee bit sheepish about sharing that information with certain people. There may be good reasons for this. Regardless, an across-the-border categorization of online communication and digital media as somewhat sub-real is unfortunate and misguided. As Mohler notes,

Real communication is happening in the digital world, on the Web, and on the smart phone in your pocket. Real information is being shared and globally disseminated, faster than ever before. Real conversations are taking place, through voice, words and images, connecting people and conversations all over the world.

Dr. Mohler’s point is well taken. It’s time we recognize the “reality” of the digital world. But we should also engage it critically. Christians should not assume that all technological advances are beneficial; but neither should they assume that they are all detrimental. A shift to digital can have its benefits. It can also come at a cost.

Our online relationships are not on par with our face-to-face “analog” ones, perhaps most pointedly because we reveal selectively to our online communities. There is a peculiar historiographical aspect—an editorial influence—to our digital communications. Whether we recognize it or not, we’re often fashioning and promoting a personal brand. It’s certainly possible to attempt such a presentation in our “analog” relationships, but it’s much more difficult, especially as people get to see us in a broad range of settings. It’s simple enough to conform your tweets and Facebook posts to the type of image you’d like to convey, but it’s much more difficult to shape public perception when someone sees your road rage.

As Christians, we should seek to move deeper than the selectivity and superficiality characteristic of most digital relationships. It’s hard to think that a Philippians 1:3-8 or Ephesians 4:15-16 type relationship could be established strictly online. Humans are body-soul unities, and Christian fellowship must be concerned in large measure with physical presence (cf. Hebrews 10:24-25).

But such a desire should not lead us to eschew all forms of digital communication. They are “real” human interactions insofar as we are speaking to people. In fact, they provide value and opportunities to communicate with people we otherwise would not have. So many families have come to recognize this, being given the opportunity to stay in touch with people around the world through a host of rich media technologies unknown to previous generations.

Though digital media necessarily shapes our communications, we should not be so quick as to eschew it. Passages like Colossians 2:1-5 may speak to the usefulness of digital forms of communication in maintaining bonds we’ve established—or strengthened—by more traditional means. And so, to ask whether we should have an online “presence” may be the wrong question. Perhaps we should be more concerned with being truly “present” wherever we are.

David VanDrunen Responds to Kingdoms Apart

Camden Bucey — Fri, 01 Mar 2013 18:05:50 +0000

Dr. David VanDrunen, Professor of Systematic Theology and Christian Ethics at Westminster Seminary California, has reviewed and responded to Kingdoms Apart: Engaging the Two Kingdoms Perspective in the latest issue of Ordained Servant, a journal for church officers published by the OPC. You can read his response online.

Simplicity in Preaching

Camden Bucey — Tue, 26 Feb 2013 10:00:09 +0000

In his 1853 address to the Society of Alumni of Union Theological Seminary in Virginia, R. L. Dabney advocated for simplicity in pulpit style. Dabney calls preachers to what I would call “immediacy.” The preacher must approach this serious task naturally, not by espousing some preaching persona. The sermon should be preached by the preacher from the heart, not mediated through artifice. It’s too often the case that artifice is expected to aid the reception of the word. But in his attempt to be eloquent in this manner, the preacher becomes the very opposite. Dabney writes,

The highest species of eloquence is that which is suggestive, where clear and vigorous phrases not only convey to the hearer’s mind distinct ideas, but point it to tracts of light which lead it along to higher conceptions of its own. But such phrases must be brief. Our language should, therefore, be pruned, till every word is an essential part of the clearly defined idea, which the sentence holds up, like a strong picture, to the mind of the hearer. If we wish to strike a blow which shall be felt, we will not take up a bough laden with foliage. We will use a naked club. (p. 85)

This is a lofty and formidable challenge but one preachers would do well to take on. Instead of focusing on turns of phrase, clever anecdotes, humor, or even tone of voice and body language, the simple preacher looks to grab his “naked club.” If our words and mannerisms do not flow naturally from the heart, in some measure they will inevitably become barriers to hearing.

It is only when the sentiment so fills and fires the soul of the speaker that he looks wholly at the thought, and not at all at the words in which it clothes itself, that the perfection of eloquence is approached. (p. 81)

There are enough barriers to hearing the word clearly. It’s best the preacher does not stengthen unnecessarily the competition.

—
R. L. Dabney, “Simplicity of Pulpit Style,” in Discussions by Robert L. Dabney, D.D., LL.D. edited by C. R. Vaughan. Volume III. Philosophical, (Harissonburg, VA: Sprinkle Publications, 1996), 80-90.

Denotation, Connotation, and the Biblical “Paradigm”

Camden Bucey — Thu, 21 Feb 2013 14:10:05 +0000

In a recent blog post, Michael Horton shares a number of helpful points about the mindset of unbelief. In what presents itself as objectivity, the unbeliever actually brings a host of baggage with him or her. This is especially the case in the hard sciences, where supposedly neutral thinkers entertain new claims in an open and objective fashion. He writes,

Scientists disagree about all sorts of things: from matters as metaphysical as string theory to details over genetic mutation. In fact, as Michael Polanyi argued years ago, scientists belong to a concrete, historical community of interpretation. They too have lives, histories, and experiences within which they interpret reality.

Polanyi is useful here, but he’s not the only one. You could also reference Thomas Kuhn or even Michel Foucault at this point. People often fail to recognize their fundamental commitments—their presuppostions. These presuppositions guide, shape, and even control one’s thoughts about truth claims and the world around them. They’re individual and pervasive. We might expect that this wide variety of epistemic contexts would lead to a equally wide variety of approaches to the “big questions” of hard science. Yet this is precisely what has not happened in the history of scientific thought. There has been and continues to be a strong resistance to major paradigm shifts. Horton writes,

We all remember the ill-fated pronouncements of the church in relation to Copernicus and Galileo, but it was scientists who made the biggest fuss at least initially over the new cosmology. Not unlike religious communities, the scientific community resists massive paradigm shifts. That’s good, because we’d be starting over every day if it were otherwise. It takes a lot of anomalies to overthrow a well-established paradigm. But it happens.

The reigning paradigm does what it can to snuff out competing paradigms. As Horton comments, this tendency can be a good thing, but it can also allow a form of scientific fundamentalism to masquerade as open inquiry. Horton continues:

Of course, none of us is neutral. We all come to the evidence with big assumptions about reality. The Holy Spirit alone can bring conversion, but he does so through his Word. And he also uses supporting arguments and evidence that reveal too many devastating anomalies—indeed contradictions—that our reigning worldview can’t accommodate. One thing is for certain: to say that miracles do not happen because they cannot happen is as vicious a circle as any argument can be. In fact, it’s not an argument at all, but mere assertion.

A paradigm can prevent someone from accepting a truth claim if for no other reason than he has no working interpretive grid for that claim. Peter Berger developed his notion of “plausibility structures” along these lines. The Christian may speak to an unbeliever about miracles, but a naturalistic paradigm (worldview, episteme, etc.) has no way of incorporating the existence of miracles—ergo, they cannot exist. But the challenge to the gospel is deeper than getting such a person to admit the presence of miracles. Indeed, it’s even greater than proving the historicity of Christ’s resurrection. The Christian apologist must not only overcome a paradigm, he or she must also offer the correct “paradigm” in its place.

Lane Tipton’s article, “Resurrection, Proof, and Presuppositionalism: Acts 17:30-31″ in Revelation and Reason: New Essays in Reformed Apologetics argues exegetically that denotation and connotation can never be separated. In other words, it’s not enough to argue the case that something happened; the biblical apologist must also present the biblical understanding of what it means. This is critical for the apologist seeking to be faithful to Scripture, and it is precisely what Paul did at the Areopagus. Consider the following: the Stoicist can acknowledge the resurrection of Christ; it’s simply an unusual occurence, an “atomic swerve.” He has a plausibility structure that allows for resurrections. But such a “belief” in Christ’s resurrection is not a saving belief.

The task of apologetics is greater than proving facts. It goes to the very heart of the gospel and ultimately seeks to defend that gospel on the only foundation it can: the self-authenticating, self-interpreting, Word of God.

Carl Trueman: Luther on Justification and Sanctification

Camden Bucey — Wed, 20 Feb 2013 16:01:49 +0000

The Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals have released the first two episodes of The Mortification of Spin with Carl Trueman and Todd Pruitt. It’s billed as a bi-weekly casual conversation about things that count. In the inaugural episode, “Rock Star Pastors in Las Vegas,” Carl Trueman draws upon his expertise to address the recent justification/sanctification debate. Much of the early material contains quips about Christians and culture, but Trueman throws his hat into the ring around the 13:37 mark:

Another aspect of this controversy is that some of the prime movers in what one might call the antinomian camp are Presbyterian ministers. They subscribe to the Westminster Standards. Westminster Standards—very very clear, it seems to me, on the importance of sanctification—on the importance of imperatives in the Christian life. If you really think that Luther nails it—the early Luther nails it—and he’s much better than the Reformed, then guess what, you should be a Lutheran pastor. You shouldn’t be taking your money from a Reformed denomination and teaching a kind of quasi-Lutheran anti-nominanism. That’s breach of vow. That should be called out. It’s not happening in my denomination, so it’s not my job to call it out. But that should be called out by the statesmen in these denominations.

That’s certainly not your typical warm-up. It’s more 1988 Mike Tyson than “Sugar Ray” Leonard, even though Trueman dances around his referents. Later into the program, Trueman addresses (albeit semi-indirectly) Tullian Tchividjian’s approach in Jesus + Nothing = Everything, arguing that such an approach is opposed to Luther’s later theology and ecclesiastical biography. Was Trueman too strong or perhaps even over the line? Was he on the mark? Listen to the new program and comment below. It doesn’t appear they’re open for comments themselves.

Direct download

Dawkins and Krauss Featured in New Atheism Documentary

Camden Bucey — Wed, 20 Feb 2013 14:27:00 +0000

Richard Dawkins and Lawrence Krauss, figureheads of the “new atheism,” are featured in a forthcoming documentary titled The Unbelievers. The film follows Dawkins, an evolutionary biologist, and Krauss, a theoretical physicist, around the world as they promote their particular scientific worldview and combat what they see as the great danger of religion. In what may prove to be another form of counter-fundamentalism, the filmakers have enlisted the support of an impressive list of celebrities including Woody Allen, Cormac McCarthy, and Ricky Gervais. It will no doubt be a discussion piece when it’s released later this year.

Watch the trailer below:

↬ Open Culture

Does God Command Evil? Introducing Kline’s Intrusion Ethic

Jared Oliphint — Mon, 18 Feb 2013 11:00:40 +0000

In discussions surrounding Old Testament ethics—Canaanite “genocide,” imprecatory Psalms, etc.—I have found Meredith Kline’s article “The Intrusion and the Decalogue” to be tremendously helpful. The problem of evil, and this ethical dilemma in particular, was perhaps the biggest stumbling block to me when I was an unbeliever in the church. It may not be helpful to everyone, but if it’s helpful to a few then I think it’s worth the time to highlight it.

The points at issue within Christian circles do not necessarily involve an express denial of God’s omnipotence, his omniscience, or his goodness. I might argue the case below very differently as an apologetic to an unbelieving audience. To those Christians who struggle with Old Testament ethics, the point of contention is often one of consistency—given that God calls murder evil, how can he then command his people to do what is evil? If moral laws reflect his character, what does it mean when those laws circumstantially change (and do they lose their status as laws)?

The whole article by Kline is well worth reading and presents a valuable biblical-theological complement to systematic approaches. I’ll offer some choice statements as a teaser and as Cliffs notes.

On eschatology:

“Creation is not eschatological. But it does provide the pattern for eschatology.”
“Eschatology antedates redemption.”
Eschatological delay and common grace are coterminous.
Eschatological consummation and common grace are mutually exclusive.
There is an eschatological intrusion of the power, principles, and reality of the Consummation into the covenant of grace, both in the OT and the NT.
The Consummation is the permanent core, manifested but veiled through earthly, temporary patterns.
“Christ and his kingdom is still in the category of Intrusion rather than perfect Consummation, as is signalized by the fact that the New Testament age is still characterized by Common Grace, the epitome of the [eschatological] delay.”
Some OT types find their antitype in the NT, others find their antitype in the not-yet world to come.

On typology:

Typology is primarily eschatological and secondarily pedagogical.
“There is a marked difference between the relevance of the Intrusion concept in the application of the first and second tables of the decalogue.”
Under the theocratic intrusion in the OT and looking ahead to the Consummation, death is prescribed for violations of some moral laws, unlike in the non-theocratic NT.
“The ordinary state had no more authority in the OT than in the NT period to enforce the first table.”
“The laws of the second table are subject to change in their application because the relations they govern are subject to change.”
“The unbeliever is the believer’s neighbor today; but the reprobate is not the neighbor of the redeemed hereafter for the reason that God will set a great gulf between them.”

On Imprecatory Psalms:

Regarding imprecatory Psalms, the welfare of man is not the chief end of man; the prayer itself is altogether proper since it is divinely inspired.
“During the historical process of differentiation which Common Grace makes possible, before the secret election of God is unmistakably manifested at the great white throne, the servants of Christ are bound by His charge to pray for the good of those who despitefully use and persecute them.”
“What is required is that we cease stumbling over this as though it were a problem and recognize it as a feature of the divine administration of the Covenant of Grace in the Old Testament which displays the sovereign authority of the Covenant God.”

On the conquest of Canaan:

“It will only be with the frank acknowledgment that the ordinary standards were suspended and the ethical principles of the last Judgment intruded that the divine promises and commands to Israel concerning Canaan and the Canaanites come into their own and the Conquest can be justified and seen as it was in truth — not murder, but the hosts of the Almighty visiting upon the rebels against His righteous throne their just deserts — not robbery, but the meek inheriting the earth.”

On the command to sacrifice Isaac:

“As God gave a special meaning to one of the trees of the garden, which it did not possess according to the ordinary constitution of things, making it the tree of forbidden fruit; as God gave a peculiar significance to certain meats in the ceremonial of the Old Testament, making them unclean; so now God effectively redefined the life of Isaac, making it the life to be sacrificed.
God had not intended to interpret Isaac’s life as the life which must actually be sacrificed, but only to try Abraham, whether he would by faith recognize God’s right to do so.

On the command for Hosea to marry a prostitute:

In this case there is intruded the principle operative when a Bride formed from a multitude of defiled sinners is received by Christ as His own.

In each of these cases, the abstract ethical principle revealed to us by God himself must not trump his revelatory, express command.

Finally, these issues should spur us to evangelize our present neighbor:

“The recognition that the hour cometh when it will be our duty to hate the unbeliever must not diminish and ought to intensify our efforts to show him the love of Christ in the hour that now is.”

Gestapo Geneva: Caricatures of Calvin and his Company of Pastors

Camden Bucey — Sat, 16 Feb 2013 16:31:02 +0000

Just a few weeks ago, Carl Trueman introduced me to Scott Manetsch’s new book Calvin’s Company of Pastors: Pastoral Care and the Emerging Reformed Church, 1536-1609. While initially interested, I was not expecting to be drawn into this type of historical study. It’s a fascinating book that rests upon careful scholarship.

At Reformation21, Trueman writes that Manetsch’s research into the consistory records demonstrates, “that discipline in Geneva was not the Gestapo-style brutality of popular myth; rather it was nuanced and frequently took much account of the humanity and the individual circumstances of the individuals concerned.” The book reveals just how ridiculous are many of the caricatures of Calvin and his venerable company. The domine of Wheaton directed me to a particularly egregious example in The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church.

[Calvin] was appointed preacher and professor of theology and in 1536 published his Articuli de Regimine Ecclesiae. They contained severe regulations concerning admission to the Lord’s Supper and required from all Genevan citizens a profession of faith approved by the town council, the refusal of which was to be punished by exile. Despite strong resistance all citizens had accepted the oath by 1538; but his next step, the discipline of excommunication, together with his refusal to conform the usages of the Church at Geneva to those of the more powerful city of Berne, led to the expulsion of both Farel and Calvin later in that year. (p. 222)

So far, the entry is relatively tame. Though in light of the following material, we catch a whiff of the agenda.

In 1541 Calvin returned to Geneva, where his party had gained the upper hand, and during the next 14 years he devoted himself to establishing a theocratic régime on OT lines. This was effected by a series of ‘Ordinances’ which placed the government of the new Church in the hands of four classes of men, called pastors, doctors, elders, and deacons. They were assisted by a ‘consistory’ of ministers and laymen which, under Calvin, was chiefly a tribunal of morals. It wielded the power of excommunication and had far-reaching powers over the private lives of citizens. (p. 223)

Interesting—I didn’t know Calvin was a militant Old Testament theocrat. How then did Calvin execute this plan?

These were enforced by new legislation, which inflicted severe punishments even for purely religious offences and prohibited all pleasures such as dancing and games. This régime was resisted by a party incorrectly described as ‘Libertines,’ which Calvin succeeded in overcoming by force. Among the opponents executed after torture were Jacques Gruet (1547), Raoul Monnet (1549), and, best known, Michael Servetus (1553). By 1555, however, all resistance had ceased and Calvin was the uncontested master of the city. (Ibid.)

This brings new meaning to “militant church.” It gets even better:

From 1555 to his death he was the unopposed dictator of Geneva, which, through him, had become a city of the strictest morality. (Ibid.)

Manetsch’s book paints a different picture of Calvin and the pastors of Geneva—one backed up by years of painstaking research in Geneva. Calvin’s Company of Pastors lacks neither empirical detail nor readability. It’s a delightful read, and I encourage pastors to consider obtaining a copy. If you require additional persuasion, look for the forthcoming episode of Christ the Center on the subject. Trueman was kind enough to participate in an interview with Dr. Manetsch on the book. The conversation was insightful, and I only regret that we weren’t able to cover more of the material at hand. Even within the constraints of a one hour interview, Manetsch shines, and I trust listeners will see the usefulness of his study for contemporary pastoral practice.

Apologetics: The Fruit of Faith

Daniel Schrock — Wed, 06 Feb 2013 17:27:21 +0000

In his little booklet, The Certainty of Faith, Herman Bavinck penned a short sentence which is laden with profundity. “Apologetics is the fruit, never the root, of faith.”^[1] Bavinck’s insight highlights something crucial. When it comes to our attitude towards the gospel there is a fundamental difference between faith seeking understanding and doubt demanding proof. The two are actually antithetical spiritual postures.

I have often had apologetic conversations in which the person I am dialoguing with issues the demand, “Prove it!” Most always that demand is a verbal power play. The person is not interested in exploring the complexities of theological inquiry but is calling for a short refutation which can confound their unbelief in a few sentences. I have thus felt the anxiety that I’m sure many Christians feel when faced with that challenge. “How do I pull a silver bullet out of my pocket right now to defend my faith?”

But the best way I have found to defuse the conversational stalemate produced by the commandment to “prove it” is the often overlooked but necessary question, “What do you mean by proof?” Asking that question moves the conversation into crucial examination of our fundamental posture towards God. Answering that question illuminates what is at play in the apologetic conversation and that is what Van Til labels “two opposing principles of interpretation.” He explains, “The Christian principle of interpretation is based upon the assumption of God as the final and self-contained reference point. The non-Christian principle of interpretation is that man as self-contained is the final and self contained reference point.”^[2]

Doubt which demands proof assumes that certainty can only be the product of absolute comprehension. It assumes that in order for man to be rationally certain about the claims of the Gospel, (and really certain about anything in the world since the Gospel touches everything in the world), that man must be able to know and explain something so thoroughly that there is no corner of that thing his mind cannot penetrate and apprehend. It assumes at the very least that if man does not presently comprehend absolutely that at least he can do so with enough intellectual grunt work. It assumes that the complexities of God and his relation to the world both as Creator and Redeemer are capable of being fully mastered and dissected by human inquiry.

That is the proof which autonomous man requires as he attempts to interpret his world with himself as the final and self-contained reference point.

Such proof the Christian can never give to the unbeliever because such proof requires that God get off his throne so that man can take his place upon it. It is not merely an intellectual attitude. It is a moral and spiritual attitude. It is an expression of human pride which assumes that the human mind can only count as proof what it understands exhaustively and that without submission to divine authority.

The call to “prove it,” begins with the Cartesian assumption that doubt toward the God of the Bible is the only virtuous and rightful place to begin.

I have to admit with honesty that as I have thought about apologetics I have often fallen into sin and adopted this attitude. And it always leads to agitation and dark unsettlement. As I have grappled with theological mysteries and the question of whether or not my faith is rational, I have all too often assumed, whether conscious or not, that true proof leaves no residue of mystery. And when I have done so, my soul has been assaulted by the malignant restlessness of doubt.

Faith seeking understanding, on the other hand, is at home with the assumption of mystery as a necessary component of human knowledge. It starts with the interpretive base that man will never know anything in the mode that God knows things. God’s mode of knowing things is original, archetypal, in sum as the Creator.

His knowledge of the apple on my desk is knowledge which actually does grasp all the vast relationships that that apple has to other things in the world. What’s more his knowledge of that apple is wholly unique in that He is the one who has ordered and defined all those relationships by his decree. His knowledge of the apple on my desk actually causes that apple to be, and to be on my desk.

Christian faith seeking understanding starts with the assumption that my knowledge of things will never equal that sort of knowledge. It is never original and definitive. It is always derivative and receptive. It starts with the humility of faith which is not restlessly agitated by the fact of mystery, but instead sees mystery as cause for doxology. It investigates and seeks understanding, but it does so out of the posture of faith and never the demands of doubt. And of course this disposition can only be the result of the effectual calling of the Holy Spirit applying the work of Christ.

But it is important to note, especially in our present post-modern context, that a truly humble epistemology is not one that denies the possibility of certainty. Rather a truly humble epistemology is one that insists that certainty can only be the product of faith in the triune God of the Bible. It rests in faith in the authority of the Word of the God who created, sustains, and is redeeming the relationships between every object of my knowledge. And that posture of faithful and humble rest is the wellspring of Christian certainty. Such certainty can never be arrogant certainty for it is certainty which always bows the knee before God as the archetypal Knower. And no one is prideful when prostrate thus.

Bavinck’s insight is rich food for the soul. It is only when we begin with the posture of faith and then stubbornly maintain that posture of faith that we can authentically defend our faith. To move away from apologetics as the fruit of faith instead into the posture of doubt which demands proof is to have already surrendered what is essential to Christian faith.

[1] Herman Bavinck, The Certainty of Faith, (St. Catharines, ON: Paideia Press, 1980), 22.

[2] Cornelius Van Til, A Christian Theory of Knowledge, (Philadelphia: Presbyterian & Reformed, 1969), 44.

Christianity and the Rules of Reason

Nathan Shannon — Tue, 29 Jan 2013 15:18:56 +0000

Download the e-book (.epub) version of this essay.

PART I. God and Logic: Two Popular Proposals

“God and logic” is a popular topic these days, and it certainly deserves the attention. From what I’ve seen, approaches to this topic fall into one of two complementary errors.

Many writers argue that logic as we know it (Aristotelian logic, for the most part) is the logic of God. These proposals fail to maintain distinctive Protestant commitments such as the doctrines of revelation and Scripture, and even classic, ecumenical doctrines such as the Creator/creature distinction and the aseity and triunity of God. This approach proves itself misguided when we consider its implications for theology proper. In short, if we take Aristotle’s logic to be identical to God’s logic, we end up with Aristotle’s God.

Other writers go too far in the other direction when they argue that logic is a created thing, or that logic is man-made, or something along those lines. I can sympathize with the impulse here: at many points in our theologizing we run up against what appear to be simple and intractable contradictions; if God is exempt, those contradictions become much less daunting, or they disappear entirely. Unfortunately this view disappoints as well, for at least one reason: if we accept it, we’re invited to think of God as not only incomprehensible to us, but ultimately incomprehensible (illogical, disordered), even to himself. We’re also left in the unenviable position of having to defend our devaluation of logic, while that very defense will take the form of logical argumentation. Oops.

So there are the two approaches that I see in the literature: (1) logic as we know it (Aristotelian) exists eternally with God, and is even the logic of God himself; (2) logic is a created thing and only created things can be held accountable to it in only relatively limited ways. I would like to propose a third approach.

God and Logic: A Third Approach

(3) There is an original, uncreated logic, which is the logic of the triune God. This logic is eternal, infinite, simple, triune, and personal. It is the self-coherence of God; it is the divine, triune, self-consistency. The relationship between the logic of God and logic as we know it, such as Aristotelian logic, is complex. I’ll make two suggestions:

(3.1) First, logic as we know it depends upon the original logic of God. For example, God is. Therefore, it is false that God is is false. The law of the excluded middle works in the created order because God, as uncreated, eternally is. I would go so far as to say that the act of creation and the continuing providence of the triune God are the sine qua non of logic as we know it.

(3.2) Second, logic as we know it is often falsely credited with its own self-sufficiency—it is taken to be ultimate; in other words, (3.1) is often denied, implicitly or explicitly. It is denied by non-theistic or anti-theistic writers who claim that logic is, that Christian theism violates the laws of logic, and that, therefore, Christian theism is false, or irrational. This line of thought takes logic as we know it to be ultimate in and of itself, as self-existent.

I described above those theistic philosophers who take logic as we know it to be the eternal logic of God. This is also a denial of the dependence of logic as we know it upon the original logic of God, since it describes God in terms of logic, rather than describing logic in terms of God: its methodology is creatio-centric.

The second alternative I described above had to do with those perhaps overzealous defenders of the Creator/creature distinction who claim that logic is a created thing; they also deny the organic dependence of logic as we know it upon the eternal logic of God. They claim that the two are utterly unrelated and unrelatable.

Logic as We Know It, According to the Third Approach: Facing Christ as Lord

If it is true that the original logic is the (logic of the) triune God, it would seem that one must believe in the triune God to understand logic rightly, or ultimately, or truly, or something like that—to account for it, we might say. If that is the case, the simple truths of logic like the laws of identity, the excluded middle, and non-contradiction, set before us the question of the very foundation of our thinking and our understanding of the world. There appear to be two basic alternatives: recognition of the triune Creator God as Lord and judge of all, or affirmation of the self-sufficiency and ultimacy of the laws of logic. Either God is our logic, or logic is our God.

PART II. Logic and Christianity and Alleged Difficulty

Suppose I show up at work Monday morning and begin telling my co-workers about my weekend. Suppose part of my story goes like this: “At church yesterday, we heard a great sermon from our pastor. Also, on the way to church, we got a flat tire and ended up missing the entire worship service.” My colleague might say, “Well, wait a second; which is it? Did you go to church and hear a great sermon, or did you get a flat and miss the whole thing?” If I continue to affirm both that we went to church and heard a great sermon and that we got a flat and missed the whole thing, then my colleague has good reason to doubt my story—it’s either completely false or partially false or just mixed up. Some how, he thinks, something is fundamentally wrong with the whole narrative. And he’s probably right.

The principle at work here is something like this: nothing that is (logically) self-contradictory is believable, or even possible. And here’s the issue: it is frequently said that Christian theism suffers from precisely this problem. Critics often attempt to demonstrate logical incoherence within Christianity, and the implication is that if they succeed, Christianity will not be (rationally) believable, or even possibly true. And, in fact, it does not appear too difficult to find examples of such difficulties internal to the faith.

Here’s one example: The witty adage, “can God create a stone that is too heavy for him to lift?” is meant to point out logical incoherence at the heart of the idea of omnipotence. If we affirm that God is omnipotent (that there is no limit to what God can do, as in Matt 19:26), then we will want to deny that there is anything too heavy for God to lift, and we will want to deny that there is any kind of rock that God cannot create. Omnipotence appears to force us to affirm contradictory propositions.

If we define believability and possibility in terms of logic, if we treat logic as we know it as ultimate—even more ultimate than God—then Christianity faces tough challenges. And it should face problems if we take logic as we know it to be ultimate and self-sufficient. Taking logic as we know it as ultimate is to mistake the analogue for the original, and thus, in effect, to take the (created) world itself as ultimate and self-sufficient.

The Insufficiency of Logic as We Know It

Consider this syllogism:

All men are mortal.
Socrates is a man.
Therefore, Socrates is mortal.

Is this argument is sound? Sure it is—unless my cat is also named Socrates. Since I might have a cat named Socrates (or a dog or a gecko or an uncle), we have to clarify what we mean when we say “Socrates,” and we also have to stipulate that every time we say it, we mean the same thing: every time “Socrates” is uttered or appears on the page, it refers to the same entity, whether man or cat or gecko or uncle. (We also have to hope that the referent is the same in the speaker’s mind as it is in the hearer’s, which is not always easy to establish.) Not only that, but we also have to repeat all this to every person who reads this argument, every time it is read. Or we could simply assume that all this is the case, as we often do: that “Socrates” refers to the ancient Greek philosopher, the teacher of Plato, and that each time “Socrates” appears in the argument, it still refers to Plato’s teacher. (And that “Plato” doesn’t refer to someone else’s cat who studied philosophy under my cat or my dog or my uncle.)

Another problem arises, one that has to do not with the terms but with the things the terms refer to: What happens if, while we’re reading this argument, Socrates (the man) ceases to exist, without explanation, or if Socrates (the man) turns into a frog or a six digit number, or if Socrates (the man) turns out to be just part of a dream I’m having right now? The argument would, of course, fall apart. So we have to assume that the referent of the term “Socrates,” not the mental object but Socrates himself, also remains the same, that Socrates is self-identical through time.

One of the enduring problems in philosophy is the nature of the self: how is it the case, or what does it mean, that I am the same person that I was twenty years ago? If my, say, three-year-old self were sitting right here next to me, would we look or act or think like identical beings? Nowadays we know that each individual has his own, unique genetic code; and that helps. But when we say, “Socrates,” are we referring to an ancient Greek’s genetic code? Is Socrates, or any person for that matter, nothing more than his genetic code? “Teacher of Plato” is not in Socrates’ genetic code. And I, for one, am much more than my genetic code. There is no mention in my genetic code of my wife or my child, of my education and experiences, of my tastes, preferences, hobbies, or habits. My closest friends do not know my genetic code. Do they not know me? Logic cannot enter this morass; it must simply assume that Socrates is knowable and self-identical through time.

We now see that at least two assumptions must be maintained in order for this syllogism to work—that the terms, always and by everyone, refer to the same entity, and that referents of the terms remain perfectly self-identical. We’re beginning to see that logic operates with a kind of artificial snap shot of the world, a kind of ontological freeze-frame; it operates on the assumption that the world is ontologically flat or monotone, or mono-ontological, to coin an unfortunate term. But it’s rather obvious that reality isn’t like this. The world isn’t, ever, ontologically flat or linear or unitary or whatever. It isn’t mono-ontological.

Mono-ontological vs. Triune-o-logical

Vern Poythress has discussed this in more detail in his article “Reforming Logic and Ontology in Light of the Trinity” (Westminster Theological Journal 57, no. 1 [1995]), and in much greater detail in his forthcoming Logic: A God-Centered Approach to the Foundation of Western Thought (Crossway 2013). In the article, he observes that, “syllogisms can operate only with unitarian ontology. Hence syllogistic reasoning is itself tacitly unitarian.” With this spurious ontology in mind, Poythress concludes that, “there is no such thing as a valid syllogism in the Aristotelian sense” (204-5). He means, I think, that logic doesn’t actually describe any actual things, because the unitarian ontology it assumes is nowhere to be found—it too, is an abstraction.

Take the law of identity for example, which says that A=A. It is true in an obvious sense that God is self-identical, or that if you have God, then you have God. But how exactly is this the case? Consider the persons of the Trinity. If you have one person of the Trinity, you have God. But if you have God, it is not so obvious that you have one person of the Trinity.

In God, self-identity is fundamental, basic, rock-bottom. If not, we are tri-theists. But in God, non-identity is also fundamental, basic, and rock-bottom. If it isn’t, we are modalists. The law of identity in God, that God eternally and unchangeably is who he is, is so sure that we say it is a se, of itself or to itself. But God’s identity is a rich and incomprehensible, Triune, personal identity. Logic as we know it should be used with an understanding that behind it lies the irreducibly triune personality of God. But often, as we’ve seen, it is not.

Cornelius Van Til wrote, “God has determined whatsoever comes to pass. Man’s moral acts are things that comes to pass. Therefore man’s moral acts are determined and man is not responsible for them.” And so, he says, “From the point of view of a non-Christian logic the Reformed Faith can be bowled over by means of a single syllogism” (Common Grace and the Gospel, 73). If we are treating logic as the self-sufficient determiner of possibility, we’d have to surrender either moral responsibility or the full sovereignty of God. (See Rom 9:19ff.) The simple fact that Scripture won’t allow us to surrender either of these to the demands of logic is an indication that logic as we know it must be leading us astray somehow.

The way through such apparent difficulties, I think, is to understand logic as (3.1) derivative and reflective of the original uncreated logic of the eternal triune God, and to remember that [~(3.2)] we should not, therefore, take logic to be the independent determiner of possibility and believability, particularly when Scripture invites us not to.

Triune Theism and the One-and-Many Fabric of Reality

According to the Christian Scriptures, the triune God is the creator of this one-and-many universe. It is because the one-and-many God is self-consistent and self-existent that logic works. At the same time, it is because God the creator and sustainer is himself essentially one-and-many that reality is too rich to be captured, or much less governed, by syllogisms and propositions and laws of logic.

After the flood, the Lord renews his covenant with Noah. Part of the re-creation language in that renewal goes like this: “While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall not cease” (Gen 8:22). This is an extraordinary utterance. It appears to be a divine utterance that is essentially and irreducibly one-and-many: In a single word and with a unified declaration God has determined that history should be a certain way, and that way, notice, is change and variation—plurality. As far as I know, there is nothing intrinsic to winter that produces the spring, nor is there anything intrinsic to summer that invites the fall. These changes are neither naturally nor logically necessary. Although, I think, seasonal changes are attributable to the motion of planetary bodies—the earth, the moon, and the sun—and to gravitational force, gravitational force is not logically or naturally necessary either, nor is the existence of any of these bodies. (I’m sneaking in a bit of the cosmological argument here!) And if this is the case, in Gen 8:22 God sovereignly and singly ordains variation and genuine historical change. We may, I think, marvel as the seasons change throughout the year at this stable flux and unified variation, this basic one-and-manyness of the natural world; it is a deeply Christian reality.

The richness of the one-and-many fabric of the created order is beyond the explanatory power of logic, but logic is a tremendously powerful tool; indeed, it is sublime, and, if understood rightly, reflective of the nature and the majesty of God. Van Til says somewhere that “the unbeliever takes for granted the ultimacy of the universe.” This is a helpful insight. Problems emerge when logic as we know it is treated as ultimate, as self-sufficient and self-existent, particularly when we’re dealing with Scripture. Logic itself is sometimes thought to be the first and the last, that through which all things were made and in which all things hold together; but that honor belongs to Christ alone.

See also:

“Thought Thinking Itself? Christianity and Logic,” by Scott Oliphint
“Believing Contradictions,” by Nathan Sasser
“Does A=A?” by Nathan Shannon
“Reforming Ontology and Logic in Light of the Trinity,” by Vern Poythress WTJ 57 (1995)

Kevin Giles’ “The Eternal Generation of the Son”

James J. Cassidy — Tue, 15 Jan 2013 15:55:16 +0000

* This review is an abbreviated version of a review of the same book I wrote for the 2012 Confessional Presbyterian Journal

Introduction

Not long ago, we did a show at Christ the Center on the Doctrine of the Eternal Generation of the Son (DEGS, hereafter). There we all expressed an appreciation for the book. Not all, however, have been as appreciative. Nick Norelli, for one, has registered a mostly negative review of the book.¹ For the most part, Norelli does not care for Giles’ connecting his doctrine of the Trinity to the gender debate (Giles is himself an egalitarian). With this sentiment, I am quite sympathetic. I am quite unsure how or way the issue of the eternal relation of the Son to the Father in the Godhead has to be used to advance one’s own position in the debate over the role of women in the church. In fact, in all my years of being a complementarian, I never once thought to defend the position on the basis of the doctrine of the Trinity.² So, with Norelli I agree that the debate over the doctrine of the eternal generation of the Son and gender roles/authority in the church should remain distinct issues. Yet, I remain somewhat disappointed in Norelli’s review in that he seems to think that the whole book is a cover for Giles egalitarian agenda.³ And so I want to propose a fresh reading of the book without undue weight given to the small section Giles dedicates to making the (unfortunate, in my opinion) connection to the gender debate.

About the Book

The introduction to the book details the current rejection of DEGS in evangelical theology. It is in part interesting to note that he lays at least part of the blame at the feet the Old Princeton theologians (Giles, 31, fn. 46). While it is true that the old Princetonians were weak on the doctrine, they did hold to it and taught it as the received tradition. It is unfortunate that the cherry picking of the Princeton theologians continues without reading them more broadly. While the Old Princeton theologians cannot be blamed for the rejection of the doctrine, there is no doubt that their irresolute disposition toward the doctrine has been exploited by some to justify DEGS rejection.

But this rejection is no small matter, according to Giles. In fact, he goes so far as to claim, “we can see why [the doctrines of the eternal generation of the Son and the eternal procession of the Spirit] are foundational elements … why they are ‘the linchpin’ that holds together divine unity and eternal threeness…Remove these two doctrines and the historic doctrine of the Trinity collapses.” (Giles, 21). But Giles raises the stakes of this rejection as he claims that “the doctrine of the eternal generation of the Son takes us to the heart of the gospel, the good news, that in Jesus Christ we meet with the God who saves.” (Giles, 16).

In chapter 2 Giles tackles the issue of theological methodology. How do evangelicals do theology? And here he sets two different approaches over against one another. First, there is the method of “the Bible alone.” He describes this method in this way:

This definition indicates that systematic theology involves collecting and understanding all the relevant passages in the Bible on various topics and then summarizes their teachings clearly so that we know what to believe about each topic. (Giles, 40)

The second method holds the Bible as the ultimate authority, but also involves more than direct appeals to Scripture. This is the view exemplified by Robert Letham’s work, especially in his award winning book, The Holy Trinity in Scripture, History, Theology, and Worship.⁴ There, Letham concedes that “other Christians provide insights that do not immediately spring from the text of Scripture” and that “we should listen seriously and attentively to the Fathers.” (Giles, 41). Furthermore, this approach does not “downplay the ecumenical creeds in favour of the latest insights from biblical studies.” (ibid).

I did have some concerns about this chapter on methodology. I am not sure that the two he highlights are the only two available to evangelicals, nor that his categorization is accurate. I will at this point simply direct you, the reader, to my full length article in the Confessional Presbyterian Journal for why I believe there is an inaccuracy here.

Chapter 3 is a survey of the biblical warrant for DEGS. He helpfully traces back the denial of the doctrine to the 1952 article by Dale Moody who argued that the John 3:16′s monogenes is more accurately translated “only” or “unique” son, rather than “only begotten” son. Chapters 4 to 7 survey the history of the development of the idea of DEGS from the apologists right up to Karl Barth.⁵ The survey he offers is concise and helpful for gaining a snap shot picture of the particular theologians’ formulations. What is also helpful is that there is included a survey of Arius’ articulation of the Trinity and the orthodox response. I myself am no ancient church historian, so I will leave it to others to evaluate the accuracy of the survey of patristic thought. But it is worthy to note one thing Giles says with regard to Athanasius:

To reject the doctrine of the eternal begetting of the Son, Athanasius concluded, opened the door to either “Sabellianism” (what is today called “modalism”) or to “polytheism” (three separated and divided divine person, in the case of Arius, hierarchically ranked), which in both cases denies the eternal triunity of God (Giles, 118).

A brilliant observation on the part of Athanasius! In particular, what is most helpful here is to observe the potential dangers – or else, the logical conclusions – of the rejection of DEGS. While it is true there are plenty of theologians, both ancient and modern, who reject DEGS and yet also reject Sabellianism and polytheism, one must wonder about the issue of consistency. Without DEGS, what is the conceptional mechanism in place to prevent collapsing the Trinity into a monad on the one hand, or dividing it into three gods on the other? More on this, in the conclusion.

Now, it is true, in these chapters Giles hits home the point consistently that the great doctors of the faith reject any subordination within the Trinity. He rejects the idea of subordinationism among the persons in either power, being, authority, or obedience (see, for instance, 141 and 143). And with this, we are generally agreed. Giles could have nuanced things, a wee bit, however. For instance, orthodox protestant theology will speak about the pactum salutis, a subject – as far as I know – completely ignored by Giles. The Son in the eternal covenant of redemption agrees to do the Father’s will in laying down his life on the cross (a la, Philippians 2:6-8). And this covenant is properly said to be eternal in so much as it takes place between the persons, primally. However, it is not eternal if by that we mean it constitutes the personal properties or the relations between the persons of the Trinity. No, the relations are there necessarily by virtue of who God is as Trinity. But the pactum salutis, while eternal in the way just described, is a conditional relation between the Father and the Son. Here, and only here, can we say that the Son is obedient to the Father. But his obedience is not inherent to his personhood as Son. But it is a voluntary act of the Son in agreement with the Father for the sake of the Trinity’s acts of redemption ad extra and pro nobis. Contrary to Norelli’s argument, then, there is – in fact – no subordination among the persons of the Trinity as persons. Here Giles is absolutely correct, as far as I can tell theologically (if not historically – again, I leave that to better minds than myself).

Chapter 8 is another extremely helpful section of the book where Giles outlines four views on the relation between DEGS and subordinationism. For one, the way he outlines and surveys the various perspectives out there with regard to the relation between DEGS and subordinationism is as lucid as it is useful. In chapter 9 Giles speaks to the matter of other alternatives to understanding the differentiation of the persons in the Trinity. This is also the chapter Norelli is most concerned about because in it Giles argues against subordinationism and applies his position to the debate on gender roles. I do agree with Norelli that this is a weakness in this chapter, though perhaps for different reasons. But what is useful in this chapter is the way Giles exposes the weaknesses of other contending views as they try to figure out a way to speak of some kind of subordination without falling into heresy.

Chapters 10 and 11 are wrap up chapters with a survey of where modern theology is on DEGS. He divides the chapter up into good news and bad news. This chapter alone is worth the book if for no other reason than to gain a sense of where modern trinitarian theology is today. And chapter 11 is simply a wrap up and summary of his argument for DEGS.

Conclusion

It may seem that DEGS is a relatively minor doctrine given the heavy emphasis on other matters currently being hotly contended. But we do not want to underestimate the dangers lurking for those who dismiss centuries of theological articulation. The theological greats of the past knew what they were doing and what was at stake when it came to how they said what they did. But what is at stake?

First, if the Son is not begotten of the Father eternally, then how is the Son differentiated from the Father? If the Son is not eternally begotten of the Father, then in what sense can we say that the Son is truly, ontologically, the Son? Is “Son” simply a title which has no ontological reality standing back of it? In other words, to be properly called a “son” requires some kind of begetting. It requires having some kind of property proper to one’s personal relation to the begetter. To deny this property seems to amount to nominalism. And nominalism, at its heart, is nothing but Sabellianism in disguise.

Second, when the eternal personal properties are denied, another (ironically, opposite) error becomes a danger: tritheism. The personal properties not only provide for differentiation within the Godhead, but they also serve to keep the three persons in an eternal perichoretic unity. If each person of the Trinity is autotheos, but no eternal relations of generation and procession bind them together, then we are left with three separate essences; i.e., three gods.⁶

Third, it seems fundamentally wrong to pit economic references against ontological categories. In the history of doctrine, it is held that economic statements have ontological referents. So, when in John 15:26 Jesus says, “But when the Helper comes, whom I will send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth, who proceeds from the Father, he will bear witness about me,” Jesus is referring to an economic procession of the Spirit. However, this is the case in time only because it is first the case in eternity. As Francis Turretin has helpfully explained, “the order of operating follows the order of subsisting.”^⁷ In other words, what the triune God does in redemptive-history really relates to his personal relations. What happens in history is true only on the basis of what is first true in the Godhead. And yet, while there is a relation – an all-important relation! – between God’s acts in history and his divine subsisting, not all things predicated of the economic Trinity can be predicated of the imminent Trinity. For instance, while the Son is subordinate to the Father in time in terms of his obedience, that is not something which can be pushed back into the divine, eternal subsistence. Remember, the relation between the economic and imminent Trinity is analogical, not univocal (which would result in tritheism) or equivocal (which would result in nominalism/Sabellianism)

Fourth, however one translates John 3:16 – unique son or only begotten son – the reference is clearly to the Son who is “in the Father’s bosom”⁸ before the creation of the World. He is the Son who transcends the world which is the object of the Father’s sending. Hebrews 1:5 and 5:5 may indeed be understood as a reference to economic events (i.e., the coronation of the exalted Son). However, that economic event may never be pitted against the ontological reality which stands back of it. As Herman Bavinck as succinctly stated it: “the economic Trinity reflects the ontological.”^⁹ Therefore, the Son is “begotten” in the economy of salvation only because he is first eternally begotten of the Father.

In closing, no longer can today’s theologians simply and easily dismiss the doctrine of the eternal generation of Son. Given Giles’ work, the case must be made again, this time while engaging Giles’ objections to the denial. This will, lets hope, once again get us back on the track of reading, loving, and appreciating all that the early fathers did for us in fighting for the truth of who our God is. Giles has laid down the gauntlet against myoptic, biblicistic, and a-historical approaches to doing Protestant theology today. We would do well to do the same.

¹http://rdtwot.wordpress.com/2012/06/20/the-eternal-generation-of-the-son-maintaining-orthodoxy-in-trinitarian-theology/, accessed October 9, 2012.

²I am aware that Augustine used the family as a picture of the Trinity, but whether or not such an analogy is legit is for another debate. Nevertheless, it is interesting to note that while Augustine rejected ontological or personal (as opposed to economical) subordination, he also fully agreed with the church’s and the Bible’s teaching that women are not to hold positions of authority in the church.

³For instance, Norelli says, “If there’s one thing that my reading of Giles’ work has taught me, it’s that somewhere in the background (or foreground!) is always going to be his obsession with connecting the Trinity to the gender debate. Now to be fair, he denies that he’s the one who does this, preferring rather to attribute this phenomenon to his complementarian counterparts. I’ll let the individual reader make his or her own assessment. All one has to do in EGS is look at the table of contents in order to realize that he’ll address this in chapter 8 [sic, he actually addresses it in chapter 9] but in truth Giles prepares the way for this discussion in all the chapters that precede it and he continues it in the chapters that follow.”

⁴Robert Letham, The Holy Trinity in Scripture, History, Theology, and Worship (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R, 2004).

⁵As an aside, I strongly disagree with Giles for bringing Barth in to defend DEGS. Barth’s whole theological system, being radically actualistic and thoroughly anti-metaphysical, militates against an orthodox version of DEGS. For a full treatment of Barth’s unorthodox doctrine of the Trinity, see my “Election and Trinity,” Westminster Theological Journal 71 (2009): 53-81.

⁶Of course, these two points are Athanasius’ insights highlighted so well by Giles on page 112 of his book.

⁷Institute of Elenctic Theology (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R, 1997), 1:281.

⁸John 1:18

⁹Doctrine of God (Grand Rapids: Erdmans, 1951), 296.

Baker Academic Launches New Blog

Camden Bucey — Tue, 15 Jan 2013 14:54:52 +0000

Baker Academic has just launched a new blog “in an effort to encourage conversation within the academy and Church as an extension of [its] publishing program.” I anticipate that many of our listeners and readers will want to subscribe to the feed or visit the site regularly, since they plan to feature author interviews and original posts, book announcements, and some giveaways. Visit the new site at blog.bakeracademic.com.

20 Years of the Mars Hill Audio Journal

Camden Bucey — Sat, 12 Jan 2013 16:25:18 +0000

The Weekly Standard recently featured a story by Andrew Ferguson on the extraordinary work of Ken Myers, the writer, editor, and voice of the Mars Hill Audio Journal. For decades, Myers has been an exemplar of balanced and insightful cultural criticism—all the while expressing a conservative Christianity. On its way to describing the cultural plight that has fallen upon contemporary conservatism, The Weekly Standard succinctly introduces and fairly represents Myers’ work:

The Journal demonstrates how closely the interests and worries of a conservative Christian intellectual overlap those of any curious traditionalist or cultural conservative, believing or non. Myers’s own curiosity is inexhaustible. On the website’s topic index — choosing a letter at random — you’ll find under “M” segments on Mondrian (Piet) and Moore (Michael), memory and money, Mendelssohn and Marsalis, masculinity and materialism. I popped in Issue 102 the other day and heard Myers’s pleasant tenor saying, by way of preface: “Is creation meaningful, and if it is, is its meaning perceptible?” This rousing intro opened a series of ruminations and interviews with a variety of scholars and writers. A brief explanation of the split between nominalism and realism in the Middle Ages led to a discussion of Jacques Maritain’s relationship with avant garde painters and musicians in 1920s Paris, then moved through the Fibonacci sequence and the mathematical value of Bach fugues as examples of inherent order, topped off with a tribute to the paintings of Makoto Fujimura by the philosopher Thomas Hibbs. The pace is unhurried, the discussions pretty easily comprehensible. Imagine NPR if NPR were as intelligent as NPR programmers think it is.

The journal has been one of my own influences in developing our programs at Reformed Forum, and I encourage you to listen to several issues. You will be better for it.

Mobility through a Marketed Ministry

Camden Bucey — Thu, 20 Dec 2012 17:17:37 +0000

In his classic essay, “The D-Min-ization of the Ministry,” David Wells describes the ministerial professionalization that occurred over the last several decades. Because of the lack of respect and influence in the wider culture, ministers sought ways of regaining their former standing. This was due in part to a conceptualization of the ministry as a career and a desire for increased upward mobility. Wells writes,

Many ministers now wander from church to church, seldom finding secure or lasting lodging. As a result, they have had to define their ministry in terms of its marketability (p. 178).

One major way to make a ministry marketable, Wells contends, is through the Doctor of Ministry (D.Min.) degree.

In the seventies many seminaries were hard pressed financially but now had, in the D.Min., a lucrative product to sell. At the same time, many ministers were hard pressed psychologically as they sensed their growing marginalization in society, the decline of their status, and the corresponding loss of power and influence. The shotgun marriage was consummated (p. 180).

Wells wrote this piece 20 years ago, but his insights are still fresh and serve as a reminder for ministers and their flocks to re-examine their understanding of pastoral ministry. Even so, now that 2012 is coming to an end, I wonder if you can get a D.Min. in “vision casting.”

David Wells, “The D-Min-ization of the Ministry” in No God But God: Breaking with the Idols of Our Age, edited by Os Guinness & John Seel (Chicago: Moody Press, 1992).

Help Spread Reformed Theology

Camden Bucey — Thu, 20 Dec 2012 11:00:02 +0000

I believe strongly in making theological discussion and content freely available, and I want as many people as possible to learn about the great truths of the Christian faith.

I’m writing today because I need your help to continue providing free podcasts, videos and web content through Reformed Forum.

Would you please donate today? Your gift is tax deductible and helps Reformed Forum to produce high quality audio and video conversations.

Since moving back to Illinois in August, I have been reminded of the reason I recorded the first “Christ the Center” episode five years ago. Reformed Forum began as a way for people to join in theological conversations, even though they might not have the opportunity where they currently live.

When I packed up the Reformed Forum studio this summer and moved away from Westminster Theological Seminary, I left behind the opportunity to have regular rigorous conversations with professors and fellow students. However, Reformed Forum has allowed me to continue these conversations—and share them with you—from a distance.

You can help Reformed Forum continue to share rich theological conversations by donating online before the end of the year.

Because we operate solely with volunteer efforts, your donation goes directly toward producing rich, theological content. A gift of any amount will make a difference.

I hope that you have been blessed by Reformed Forum’s efforts this year, and I look forward to sharing even more great conversations with you in 2013.

Camden Bucey

President, Reformed Forum

P.S. Your online donation must be submitted before midnight on Monday, December 31st to qualify for your personal tax purposes. Checks must be postmarked on or before December 31, 2012.

Reformed Forum is a registered 501 (c)(3) non-profit organization. Donations to Reformed Forum are tax deductible to the fullest extent allowed by law.

A Review of The Innkeeper

Jason Pickard — Mon, 17 Dec 2012 20:44:51 +0000

Each Advent season, John Piper writes an Advent poem as a gift to his congregation in Minneapolis. One such Advent poem is The Innkeeper. In this short narrative poem, Piper paints the scene of Jesus returning to the Inn where he was born in Bethlehem. As he does, he meets Jake, the innkeeper, who suffered quite a cost for allowing Mary and Joseph to spend the first Christmas night in his stable.

Upon receiving this book to review I was very excited. I like the idea of a Reformed theologian writing a theological poem as a creative way to communicate gospel truth. To this end, Piper does a fantastic job. Jake, the innkeeper, we learn, lost his wife and two sons as a result of Herod’s decree in Matthew 2:16—that all children two years and under were to be killed. Herod did this, of course, in response to the birth of Christ, because he feared the true King of Jews threatened his claim to the throne.

The poem begins with Jesus at the end of his journey back to the inn, walking through streets full of children. Very quickly, Jesus meets Jake, and the two sit down and talk. While talking, Jesus learns of Jake’s loss and Jake’s grief as he recalls watching his two sons die as well as his wife as she attempted to save her little boys. Anyone wrestling with the problem of evil and suffering in our world will appreciate how Piper brings in the gospel as an answer to the suffering of Jake, the innkeeper in the story.

Piper dedicates this book to anyone who has ever lost a child. If you have lost a child, this book offers hope but the perspective reader should be warned that Piper does raise this difficult issue. I know some that have lost a child are more harmed than helped by books like this. I say this so the reader can make an informed decision that is right for them.

Overall the poem is very good and thought provoking. However, after reading the short work, I was a little disappointed. First of all, while I am a big fan of pastors reading, and even writing poetry, those committed to sola scriptura (as I know Piper himself is) might wonder if such a speculative “filling in of the gaps” is true to a Reformed hermeneutic. Piper’s work is much different than a work like Pilgrim’s Progress, where Bunyan writes fiction to express theological truth. Piper does not write fiction as much as midrash.

Theologically, there are a few things of which interested readers should be aware. Piper seems to conflate Luke’s manger account and Matthew’s account of the visit of the Magi to Bethlehem (Matthew 2:1-12). Scholars debate whether or not the house in Matthew is the same as the manger in Luke. It is very possible, as ancient Palestinian homes often had a lower level stable where the animals spent the night. Yet it is also probable that Jesus and his family remained in Bethlehem for a time after his birth but moved from the manger to a more permanent dwelling, such as a house. This is why Herod’s decree not to murder all newborn baby boys, but all under two years of age.

Also, at times Piper is close to a hyper-Calvinist position. For instance, when talking about the year when Caesar issued his tax that made all enroll, Jake says, “A grim and awful year it was for me when God ordained that strange decree.” Theologically, this is true, but read wrongly it could place the blame of Caesar’s awful evil on God. In addition, Jake knew this one born at his inn was the Lord, and he wonders for thirty years why the Lord never came back to help. Piper’s speculative exploration leaves me wondering if he, perhaps unintentionally, places the blame of Herod’s evil act on God. Indeed God is sovereign, even over evil, but he is not the author of evil. Piper could have made this a little clearer in my opinion.

Also, Piper assumes that the innkeeper knew he was housing the Savior when he offered the stable out back. In Luke’s birth narrative, the innkeeper is not named or even mentioned. It is Matthew’s account of the Magi visiting the Christ child where the true “King of the Jews,” and Savior of all nations is made manifest for all to see. Piper reads a lot into the “innkeeper.”

The major strength of this poem is its ending. Piper’s curious statement that the innkeeper wondered for thirty years why Jesus never came back to help is a bridge to the hope of the gospel. Piper presents a wonderful biblical theology reminding those who suffer that this One born in the manger is the One who has defeated, and will fully and finally defeat, all evil. Jesus tells Jake that he will soon be crucified, but that he would rise in three days and crush the head of the one who has the power of death. From here, Piper reminds us all of our resurrection and our life of reigning with Christ in the New Heavens and the New Earth.

What I appreciate about Piper’s short work is his attempt to present creatively an apologetic for evil while highlighting the sovereignty and glory of God. Yet I wonder if it is not better to write true fiction more in the vein of C.S. Lewis or J.R.R. Tolkien instead of leading the reader down a trail of biblical speculation. The poetic genre is beauty and the church need to consider seriously the aesthetic value of beautiful prose in our theological writing, especially in our apologetic writing, as the church seeks to comfort her own and reach out to those outside as well. However, The Innkeeper, is a little too theologically speculative for this reviewer.

Jesus, My Soul’s Deepest Desire?

James J. Cassidy — Wed, 05 Dec 2012 19:14:48 +0000

Laura Story’s newish song-hymn, “What a Savior,” presents us with an interesting theological conundrum. It’s a kind of brain-teaser not unlike the one introduced to many confused Christians when they are asked to sing “I Surrender All” in church on Sunday morning. The riddle is all the more interesting in light of the recent exchange between Tullian Tchividjian and Rick Phillips about whether or not the believer is still totally depraved. The former’s original post can be found here, and the latter’s two posts here and here. Tchividjian’s most recent reply is here.

So, with regard to the older hymn, the question we might ask is “do I surrender all?” Can I sing these words in good conscience? Do I really, at every moment of every day, surrender all to Jesus? Or, with regard to the newer song, is Laura Story simply singing with an over-realized eschatology when she vocalizes these words:

Jesus, You are higher
My soul’s deepest desire
Hallelujah, You are Savior

Can the Christian really sing that Jesus is his “deepest desire?”

It seems at this point some Christians really, to put it technically, freak-out. They tend to think that if they do these things imperfectly, then they can’t do them at all. They see times in their lives when they don’t surrender themselves to Jesus, or when they desire something more, or deeper, then Jesus. And so, they throw their hands up in the air, and they surrender Jesus to all. They run back to their justification, and take refuge there and forget about desiring Jesus and surrendering their lives over to him.

But is this biblical, or just another form pietism? I know pietism as a formal, technical theological and historical term is complicated. But the way I intend its use here is to denote a false, reductionistic view of piety and the Christian life.

And I do believe it is false piety to conclude that because you cannot do something perfectly means that you can’t (or shouldn’t try to) do it at all. When I was converted, Jesus really did become my deepest desire. Does that mean I’m perfect? No. Does that mean that I always act like he’s my deepest desire? No. That won’t happen until glory. But what it does mean is that when the Holy Spirit regenerated me, I changed. My fundamental dispositions (or, what the older theologians called the habitus) has changed. By grace, Jesus IS my deepest desire – even when I don’t act accordingly or feel that desire. And while it is my duty as a Christian to nurture and nourish that desire, I will often find myself falling short of the glory of God. But that does not mean that I do not have that fundamental disposition already ruling and reign my life. Christ is my King. He is at the center of my life. God has made me sell out my life for his sake. In body and soul, I am not my own, but I belong to my faithful Savior who has purchased me with his precious blood. And that is the case even when I don’t actual feel desire for his Glory or when I don’t live for his Glory.

Therefore, sing these fine hymns, Christian! And do so in good conscience! You are a recipient of God’s grace. You are in Christ. And in him you are righteous because of his merits, and you are a new creature in him having your old heart of stone removed and it has been replaced with a heart of flesh that is beating and alive. You are no longer dead in your sins and your trespasses, but you have been made alive!

Atoning sacrifice
Keeper of this life
Hallelujah, You are Savior
Beginning and the end
Forgiver of my sin
By Your mercy You have saved us

Jesus, You are stronger
More than any other
Hallelujah, what a Savior
Jesus, You are higher
My soul’s deepest desire
Hallelujah, You are Savior

Christ’s Resurrection as Firstfruits

Camden Bucey — Thu, 08 Nov 2012 19:15:41 +0000

As Christians, we have a distinctly living hope (1 Pet 1:3). We look to the resurrected Christ as our salvation, and his resurrection from the dead is the climactic accomplishment of that redemption. Even so, we look to his return when death, the last enemy, will be conquered and we will be raised to glorified bodies (1 Cor 15:26, 50ff). We often look to Christ’s resurrection as the guarantee of this future event, but we don’t always give full credit to the connection between Christ’s resurrection and our resurrection. In his book By Faith, Not By Sight, Dr. Richard B. Gaffin, Jr. explores Paul’s use of ἀπαρχὴ (firstfuits) in 1 Cor. 15 and its significance for this connection. He writes,

We must not miss the full impact of what Paul is saying here. For him it does not go far enough to say, as it is often put, that Christ’s resurrection is the guarantee of our resurrection, in the sense of being certain because of God’s eternal purpose or his word of promise to the church, alhtough both are certainly true for Paul. Rather, Christ’s resurrection is a guarantee in the sense that it is nothing less than the actual and, as such, representative beginning of the “general epochal event.” In Paul’s view, the general resurrection, as it includes believers, begins with Christ’s resurrection. (By Faith, Not By Sight, p. 60)

In summary, we should not see Christ’s resurrection as an event separate from our own future resurrection. Paul is using an agricultural metaphor. Christ is the ἀπαρχὴ, the firstfuits of the same harvest. Even though the first row of corn is harvested before the last, they are nevertheless part of the same crop. Likewise, though we wait for our bodily resurrection, we may rest in the fact that the Lord of the harvest has already begun.

Canine Piety

Camden Bucey — Thu, 18 Oct 2012 21:01:32 +0000

William Laud was the Archbishop of Canterbury from 1633-1645. He became obsessed with the liturgy, and his heavy-handed high church policies were seen as persecution by many Protestants. In his excellent book, The Reformation: A History, Diarmaid MacCulloch illustrates a peculiar conflict between Laud, his followers, and the English people.

In the Laudians’ zeal to make worship and church interiors more holy, they offended against long-standing silent understandings of religious behaviour; they even tried to stop people bringing their dogs to church. The English were already a nation of dog-enthusiasts if not dog-lovers, and they tolerated dogs in church on the same basis as children, as long as both groups behaved themselves: there was much fury among churchgoers at the cat-loving Archbishop’s intolerance. (p. 520)

Only a cat lover…

Election, Eternity, and Time in Karl Barth

James J. Cassidy — Wed, 10 Oct 2012 20:31:30 +0000

For Reformed Christians we often struggle with the relation between the eternal decree of God and the historical manifestation of that decree in time. It is ingrained within our theological DNA to think of the distinction between the eternal decree of God and its temporal manifestation. It is against this backdrop that Barth came on the scene and challenged the traditional take on election – and with it, the traditional notions of how eternity relates to time. Some more explication is in order.

For Barth, Jesus Christ is himself the eternal decree of God who precedes all being and all time (CD II.2, 94). There is no being – not even of God! – apart from Jesus Christ. Nor is there any time prior to or apart from him. “And for this reason, too, we have no need to project anything into eternity, for at this point eternity is time, i.e., the eternal name has become a temporal name…the Son of God – the Son in concreto and not in abstracto, Jesus Christ, who is the Head of His body, the Church – this Son is “before all things.” (CD II.2, 98). Jesus Christ then is God in a primal movement toward man (CD II.2, 99). In other words, Jesus Christ does not have to wait for time in other to be temporal for us. In election he is already eternal time, he is already the temporally elected man who is “before all things,” the “eternal beginning of God” (ibid). In this way, Barth purposefully and skillfully employs the language and concept of eternity in an equivocal fashion. There is a reason why he uses the name Jesus Christ to describe this “before all things,” primal existence. He is not speaking of Jesus Christ before the flesh, but Jesus – precisely as the God man – primally. So, in one sense Jesus Christ is eternal (because he is “before all things”), and in another sense he is not eternal (because he is in concreto). In the former sense he is eternal because of his superior and sovereign actuality, but in the latter sense he is not eternal because he is not without time.

Now that that is clear (!), any thoughts from the listening audience?

Good Writing, at Last!

James J. Cassidy — Tue, 09 Oct 2012 20:15:35 +0000

By the time they stopped that night, the rain had abated somewhat. But it did not cease. Likewise, the sun never properly set. Robbed of its glory by the day’s grimness, it could manage no grand descent. Instead it simply sulked to its rest that evening.

And:

About a half hour later, the men and their cloaks huddled around a meager fire. The wood that Morumus had collected hissed defiantly at first, but in the end it burned. The overhead branch upon which the abbot had hung his cloak had finally snapped, so they had constructed makeshift drying racks from long sticks found among the trees.

These two quotes come from Jeremiah W. Montgomery’s new book, The Dark Faith, which is the first of three. Jeremiah was recently interviewed at Christ the Center and provides us with some thoughtful insights into Christian novel writing. And as you can see here in these examples, he practices what he preaches. He has a great gift for painting pictures with words, such that you feel as if you are there in the scene. You can feel the cold of the weather, experience the dampness of the rain, smell the burning green wood, and hear the snap of the branch. It seems as if such fine writing is becoming increasingly rare in a literary world of cheap thrills and sensual titillation. This novel, by contrast, has gravitas – it challenges the imagination even as it expands your vocabulary. And along the way, you are gripped by the story and very much entertained. A spectacular book for any time of the year, but especially now with the fall weather setting in. Take up and curl up on the couch and enter into the world of the Dark Harvest.

The Glory of Grace

Camden Bucey — Thu, 04 Oct 2012 19:18:40 +0000

William Boekestein’s latest, The Glory of Grace: The Story of the Canons of Dort, is now available from Reformation Heritage Books. Like Faithfulness Under Fire and The Quest for Comfort, this volume is illustrated by Ryan Hughes—bringing to life this rich history. I’ve read The Quest for Comfort to my infant son numerous times. Even though he can’t understand much of anything I’ve read, I’ve benefited greatly myself. Here is an excellent way for children and adults alike to be encouraged by the history of an important Reformed confession and its resolve to teach salvation by grace alone through faith alone in Jesus Christ alone.

A Mighty Fortress Like You’ve Never Heard It

Camden Bucey — Wed, 03 Oct 2012 22:04:32 +0000

Today, I was delighted to receive a copy of Pamela York’s new album, Lay Down This World: Hymns and Spirituals. Pamela is an accomplished jazz pianist, who brings a fresh voice to several classic hymns and spirituals. Here’s a preview of what you’ll find on the album, which is set to release on November 13:

You may also like to listen to our interview with Pamela on jazz and Christian thought.

John Flavel on Union with Christ: A Response to John Fesko

Rob Edwards — Mon, 24 Sep 2012 16:28:33 +0000

In last week’s episode of the podcast “Office Hours,” Scott Clark interviews John Fesko regarding his recent book, Beyond Calvin: Union with Christ and Justification in Early Modern Reformed Theology (1517-1700). In the last 7 minutes of the interview they briefly discuss my article, “John Flavel on the Priority of Union with Christ: Further Historical Perspective on the Structure of Reformed Soteriology,” published this spring in the Westminster Theological Journal. Humorously, just after Fesko mentions the “frustrating feature” of many 17th century theologians who fail to name those they argue against in their writings, neither Scott Clark nor John Fesko mention my name, the full title of my article, or the journal in which it is published. Briefly, I would like to respond to several of the criticisms Fesko raises.

Broadly, Fesko classifies my approach to Flavel as “Whig historiography,” claiming that my argument is trans-historical, using Calvin and Flavel simply to prove that my position, and those I agree with, is the correct one. He believes I disregard four centuries of doctrinal discussion and development and simply want to draw a straight line to the present day. This, however, misconstrues the thesis of my paper.

My stated aim is to address challenges by Fesko in his previous articles where he claims that Dr. Richard Gaffin has a peculiar way of reading Calvin that he describes as “idiosyncratic,” questioning whether Gaffin, and others with similar views of the role of union with Christ in Reformed soteriology, can justify their claims with reference to further works in the development of Reformed theology.^[1] My argument is that John Flavel, writing in the later half of the 17th century, provides such historical evidence. I am clearly not writing to argue that Calvin and Flavel agree with me, therefore I am right. My aim is to provide historical evidence in the development of Reformed soteriology of a particular way of understanding the role of union with Christ, one that disagrees with Fesko’s own understanding of the period.

I am surprised that after reading my article, Fesko can charge me with failing to discuss the historical context or other works of the time period. I believe any fair reading will demonstrate that I do. Before discussing Flavel’s own works, I address controversy in his own time concerning the doctrine of union with Christ and the response to it. I also mention a number of other works written in the same time period, including individuals such as William Ames, Joseph Hall, John Brinsley, Thomas Lye, Rowland Stedman, Edward Pearse, John Lougher, and Edward Polhill. In my reading, each of these individuals provides a similar understanding of the role of union with Christ in the structure of Reformed soteriology and in relation to justification. Though I attempt to provide a thorough analysis of Flavel, I do not disregard the context in which he’s writing, as Fesko seems to suggest.

I am also disappointed that Fesko characterizes my approach to Flavel as “cherry picking,” claiming that I only give attention to an “isolated portion of Flavel’s works” and provide a “narrow reading of Flavel.” This charge is difficult to fathom. In my article I thoroughly deal with Flavel’s primary work on union with Christ, The Method of Grace, a 474 page volume, as well as numerous other works where he addresses the topic, such as The Fountain of Life, his Exposition of the (Westminster) Assembly’s Shorter Catechism, England’s Duty Under the Present Gospel Liberty, as well as several other shorter pieces found throughout the six volumes of his collected works.

One work that Fesko finds important, and notes that I do not address, is Flavel’s Planēlogia.^[2] One would have a difficult time finding this work under that name, because in The Works of John Flavel it is published in volume 3 under the title The Occasions, Causes, Nature, Rise, Growth and Remedies of Mental Errors together with several appendices, postscripts and a sermon titled Gospel Unity Recommended to the Churches of Christ. All of these together were initially published as Planēlogia. Fesko describes it as a key work of Flavel’s that demonstrates my “narrow reading” is inaccurate.

Fesko claims that in Planēlogia, “Flavel talks about the decree to justify the elect, and in terms of the elect’s union with Christ being based on the imputed righteousness of Christ.” If I understand him correctly, similar to his claims elsewhere, he believes that in the broader structure of Flavel’s soteriology, justification has priority because imputation is always a prior category as found in God’s eternal decree. Thus the mystical union is grounded on imputation.

In turning to this work by Flavel, however, one sees that Fesko’s reading mischaracterizes what Flavel writes.^[3] For those who have The Works of John Flavel at hand, the specific reference I believe Fesko points to is found in volume 3 on page 559. Here Flavel criticizes the Antinomian assertion of eternal justification. He allows that justification may be considered from the vantage point of God’s eternal decree but emphasizes its execution in time. As he discusses its execution in time, Flavel distinguishes between “its impetration by Christ” (or redemption’s accomplishment in Christ’s work) and “its application to us.” Flavel then describes the relationship between effectual calling and justification, and writes, “When an elect sinner is united to Christ by faith, and so passeth from death to life, from a state of condemnation into a state of absolution and favour; this is our actual justification.”^[4] He goes on to say, “As soon as we are received into communion with Christ, and his righteousness is imputed by God . . . immediately we pass from a state of death and condemnation to a state of life and justification.”^[5] It is clear that while allowing for an eternal vantage point, for Flavel actual imputation and justification follow union with Christ, in contrast to Fesko’s claims. If there is any doubt, later in the same work Flavel states, “the righteousness of Christ is by God imputed to believers, by virtue of their union with Christ.”^[6]

In this work, Flavel simply does not characterize union with Christ and imputation in the way that Fesko claims. The elect’s union with Christ is not based on the imputed righteousness of Christ. Flavel clearly states the opposite, that union with Christ is the basis for the imputation of Christ’s righteousness in the application of redemption. In fact, if one reads the entirety of Planēlogia, in several places Flavel characterizes union with Christ, communion with Christ, and the various benefits in the way that I describe in my article.^[7] It’s difficult to conceive how Fesko can charge me with “cherry picking” when he mentions this one work and then, it seems to me, mischaracterizes its content. It’s one thing to be accused of a historiographical fallacy, of which I don’t think I’m guilty. It’s an even more basic matter to correctly read an historical text.

Fesko’s criticism further illustrates a point I make in my article as I assess the value of Flavel for the current debate.^[8] It appears to me that Fesko’s formulation continues to confuse broader soteriological categories, which Flavel maintains distinct. At times, I believe, Fesko confuses the categories of redemption accomplished with redemption applied as he talks about the relationship between justification and sanctification in union with Christ.^[9] Here he appears to confuse the eternal decree, which indeed includes imputation, with its actual application in time, and the relationship it sustains to other elements in the framework of soteriology. In other words, noting that the imputation of Christ’s righteousness is an aspect of the eternal decree within the pactum salutis, as Fesko does, in no way gives it priority in the actual application of redemption. The purview of my article, and I believe the weight of Flavel’s discussion, is the application of redemption which begins with union with Christ, then communion in all of his privileges, justification and sanctification together included.

[1] John V. Fesko, “A Tale of Two Calvins: A Review Article,” Ordained Servant 18 (2009), 103; and J. V. Fesko, “Methodology, Myth, and Misperception: A Response to William B. Evans,” WTJ 72 (2010), 394.

[2] I actually do quote a portion of this work, which is under the title Gospel Unity Recommended to the Churches of Christ in volume 3 of The Works of John Flavel published by Banner of Truth. This sermon was originally appended to Planēlogia. See my article, “John Flavel on the Priority of Union with Christ,” WTJ 74 (2012), 46.

[3] I am fairly certain that the place Fesko refers to is in an appendix to the work under the title, “The Second Appendix: Giving a brief Account of the Rise and Growth of Antinomianism; the Deduction of the principal Errors of that Sect, With modest and seasonable reflections upon them” (vol. 3 of The Works of John Flavel), 551.

[4] Ibid., 560; emphasis added.

[5] Ibid.; emphasis added.

[6] Ibid., 579; emphasis added.

[7] Ibid., 557 where Flavel describes “receiving Christ as the gospel offers him for righteousness and life;” 562 where he states that “as the sin of Adam condemns none but those that are in him; so the righteousness of Christ actually justifies none but those that are in him; and none are actually in him but believers;” 563 where he writes that “it must be absurd also to place justification before vocation,” or effectual calling in which we are united to Christ; 567 where he describes how we can “remain a perfect stranger to all saving union and communion with him.”

[8] See my “John Flavel on the Priority of Union with Christ,” 56.

[9] John V. Fesko, “A More Perfect Union: Justification and Sanctification in Union with Christ,” Modern Reformation 16, no. 3 (2007): 32-35, 38.

Editors Note: Rev. Edwards discussed his article in more detail on episode 246 of Christ the Center.