Conversation on Calvinism

The question has come in, what does it mean to be Reformed? . . . OK, so it means to be Calvinist, but then, what’s that? So, to kick things off and provide a logical place for discussion, here’s a brief summary, cribbed straight from our membership class at church.

Central themes of Reformed doctrine

Total depravity (Romans 3:9-11, 8:7-8)

  • not “total corruption”—not that we’re as bad as we could possibly be, incapable of any good at all
  • but that there is nothing we do which is untainted by sin—our motives and desires are never pure, always mixed
  • also called “total inability”—in and of ourselves, we are not able to turn away from sin and toward God, because we are born in slavery to sin; left to our own devices, we would be without hope

Irresistible grace (John 6:43-44, Romans 9:14-18, Ephesians 2:1-10)

  • therefore it is only by God’s grace that we are saved, through his gift of faith to us
  • his grace breaks the shackles of sin on our lives
  • the Spirit can make himself irresistible—if he so chooses, we cannot resist his work any more than the prisoner can resist the key that unlocks his chains
Unconditional election (Romans 9:14-18, Ephesians 1:3-6, 2:1-10)
  • therefore our salvation cannot depend on our own effort and initiative, because those are not and cannot be sufficient
  • God chooses whom he will save
  • we do not know and will never know on what basis; all we know is that it is his free gift
    ––his choice and his love have no conditions and no strings attached

Limited atonement (Mark 10:45, John 10:14-15, Romans 8:31-32, Ephesians 5:25-27)

  • the death of Christ on the cross was immediately effective to save all those whom God chose (the elect)
  • it was sufficient to save all, but only efficient to save the elect
  • not made available for people to choose or not, but powerful in and of itself

Perseverance of the saints (Romans 8, Philippians 1:6, 1 John 2:1-6, Jude 24-25)

  • therefore, since our salvation is God’s work in our lives, and since it is a work of transformation, it is not something we can undo
  • we have been justified (our relationship with God has been restored—the penalty for our sin has been paid and his wrath at our sin has been satisfied), and we are being sanctified (made holy—we are being changed into the people God wants us to be, so that we live lives that are in accordance with his will)
  • this means we are in process; we are saints, because we are in right relationship with God, but we are also sinners, because we’re still being changed
    ––Lutheran language: simul iustus et peccator, “at once justified and a sinner”
  • the fact that we still sin doesn’t mean that we have fallen away from God, nor does it mean that we risk losing our salvation–it just means we aren’t perfected yet; our sin cannot be so big or awful that it undoes what God did

Note: the standard acronym for these five points (in slightly different order) is TULIP. It’s an effective mnemonic, especially since this particular summary of Calvinist doctrine was first developed in the Netherlands.Overarching theme: the sovereignty (lordship) of God

  • it’s all about what God does
  • this doesn’t mean it’s not about what we do; but it does mean that what we do is a response to what he has done, is doing and will do
  • we don’t carry the responsibility on our shoulders, whether for our own salvation or anything else—he does

Simply Wright

One of my frustrations as a pastor is that with everything else I need to do, I can’t do the reading I wish I could do. As Ecclesiastes says, “Of the making of many books there is no end,” and while many that come out each year are of great value, I have neither the time nor the energy to read as many as I’d like to read–or indeed, arguably, as many as I need to read.

It’s not a problem unique to me, of course; which is why, I think, God invented journals and review essays. There are a number of periodicals to which I subscribe, and a handful in particular which I find critically important in keeping up with things and highlighting the books I need to make time to read. The most important are First Things and Books & Culture, which you’ll find linked over on the left side of the page; not far below them is Touchstone, which describes itself as “a Christian journal, conservative in doctrine and eclectic in content, with editors and readers from each of the three great divisions of Christendom — Protestant, Catholic, and Orthodox . . . [designed to] provide a place where Christians of various backgrounds can speak with one another on the basis of shared belief in the fundamental doctrines of the faith as revealed in Holy Scripture and summarized in the ancient creeds of the Church.”

Personally, I find Touchstone a bit more erratic than First Things (and also shorter), but the editors find (or write) and publish some wonderful pieces. In the latest issue, perhaps the best is a review essay on C. S. Lewis’ Mere Christianity by the Anglican Bishop of Durham, England, the incomparable N. T. Wright. Bishop Wright might just be the perfect person to do this, since like Lewis he’s an Englishman, an Anglican, a scholar (though his field is New Testament rather than Renaissance literature) and a writer who recently wrote a small work of popular apologetics, Simply Christian, which can be profitably compared with Lewis’ book. (I know this because it’s been done.) What’s more, Bishop Wright also happens to be extremely good at what he does, and a man of real grace and humility. (I know that from people I know who are friends of his.)

As one would expect, then, he offers an excellent and quite thorough appraisal of Lewis’ work, pointing out its great strengths and not sparing its weaknesses. There’s no need to recapitulate his points here–go read the article (and give Touchstone some page hits); but I do want to call attention to Bishop Wright’s closing paragraphs:

[Despite the book’s flaws,] the bee flies, and gets the honey. Credit where credit is due. Lewis himself would have been the first to say that of course his book was neither perfect nor complete, and that what mattered was that, if it brought people into the company, and under the influence (or “infection”) of Jesus Christ, Jesus himself would happily take over—indeed, that Jesus had been operating through the process all along, albeit through the imperfect medium of the apologist.And, as another imperfect apologist, I salute a great master, and can only hope that in sixty years’ time children yet unborn will say of me that, despite all my obvious and embarrassing failings, I too was used, in however small a way, to bring people under the influence and power, and to the love and kingdom, of the same Jesus Christ.

Atheism and its discontents

Interesting meditation over on the First Things website by one of their junior fellows, Ryan Anderson, on the question, “Are Atheists Victims of Discrimination?” He concludes that in some ways, yes, they are, but that much of it is self-inflicted (and much of the rest is in reaction to the public bloviations of folks like Sam Harris, Richard Dawkins, and Peter Singer); and he ends with this:

Atheist discontent still bears a seed of redemption, though, as it points to the fundamental human longing for community, shared values, and shared lives. That they feel this need goes unfulfilled isn’t surprising, since it’s a large element of what religion is all about. Far from unjustly discriminating, then, believers ought to water that seed by charity and prayers so that its seedling might one day be grafted onto the one true Vine.

Amen.

Not a bad appetizer

One of our elders here at Trinity has asked me several times over the last number of months if I’d read David Gregory’s book Dinner with a Perfect Stranger. I hadn’t, nor did I want to (though I didn’t say that–no need to be rude, after all); it struck me as something of a Christian parallel to Mitch Albom’s The Five People You Meet in Heaven, just a piece of well-intentioned schlock.

Well, it seems Steve finally decided I’d had long enough, or something, and loaned me his copy. At least, he gave me his copy with the expectation that I would read and return it; can you really call it a loan when the other person doesn’t want to borrow it? Whatever you want to call it, though, the book was on my desk, and it’s short enough (100 small pages) that I didn’t have any real excuse not to read it; so I did. I was pleasantly surprised–quite surprised, in fact. It’s not great literature by any means, nor is it likely to be mistaken over the long haul for one of
C. S. Lewis’ works (though Gregory clearly admires Lewis–I caught a couple nods to Mere Christianity over the course of the book); for that matter, I wouldn’t even put it with Peter Kreeft‘s work. Still, it’s clearly and cleanly written, and far shorter than I feared on the preciousness one so often finds in Christian fiction. More importantly, the book goes far beyond the sophomoric popular theology I expected to find; Gregory manages consistently to be simple without being simplistic, which is an important and difficult line to walk, and his apologetic is wide-ranging and thoughtful–and deeper than most contemporary Christian nonfiction. On several points (such as the discussion of heaven), his book can even serve (and will, I hope) as a useful corrective to the poor theology served up in many places around the American church.

All in all, I was pleased and impressed: Dinner with a Perfect Stranger is indeed an “invitation worth considering,” for non-Christians and immature Christians alike. It’s not great fiction, but it’s probably good enough writing and storytelling to please most non-academics these days, and it’s not just milk (or chicken soup), either–there’s a lot of good, solid food for the soul here. Recommended.

Note: fans of Dinner with a Perfect Stranger might be interested to know that there’s a sequel, focused on Nick’s wife Mattie, called A Day with a Perfect Stranger.

Knocking on Heaven’s Door

For the last few weeks, I’ve been working my way through David Crump’s book Knocking on Heaven’s Door: A New Testament Theology of Petitionary Prayer. Dr. Crump’s a religion professor at Calvin College in Grand Rapids, MI, and he’s written a truly superb book; there’s more meat in the introduction alone than you’ll find in many books on prayer. I picked it up after reading Lauren Winner’s review, thinking it could give me a useful frame for a sermon series, and that’s been one of the better decisions I’ve made lately. I will indeed be leaning on this book in my preaching this summer, but it’s done me a lot more good than just that; I can honestly say my prayer life is stronger and deeper as a result of the reading I’ve done so far, and I look forward to seeing what Dr. Crump draws out of the rest of the New Testament. Highly recommended.

Musings on the missional church

The latest issue, Winter 2007, of Leadership magazine showed up last week bearing a big close-up of a green cinder-block wall with a hole sledgehammered through it into the outside world–lots of open space with a city skyline in the distance; superimposed on the picture was the headline, “Going Missional: Break free of the box and touch your world.” In one way, this was confirmation of a wry remark I ran across recently about all the trendy adjectives floating around the church these days, including “emerging/emergent” and “missional”; yes indeed, Leadership is on it, and “missional” is a hip thing to be. In another way, though, this was very encouraging, because it’s an excellent issue with some truly valuable articles. Tim Conder’s piece, “Missional Buzz,” and the article by Wade Hodges and Greg Taylor, “We Can’t Do Megachurch Anymore,” are the only ones up on the Web so far, leaving several excellent pieces still only available in print; I’d encourage you to keep an eye out for them (or just go buy the magazine).

The reason this is so encouraging is precisely because “missional” is a hip thing to be, fashionable but ill-understood. The fact of the matter is, as Alan Roxburgh observed in the September/October 2004 issue of Theology Matters, while “almost everywhere one goes today the word missional or the phrase missional church is used to describe everything from evangelism to reorganization plans for denominations, to how we make coffee in church basements and denominational meeting rooms . . . [this language] is still not understood by the vast majority of people in either leadership or the pew. This is a stunning accomplishment: from obscurity to banality in eight short years and people still don’t know what it means.”

Dr. Roxburgh should know, since he was one of the people, along with Darrell Guder, Craig Van Gelder, and George Hunsberger, who collectively wrote the book Missional Church: A Vision for the Sending of the Church in North America, which kicked off the whole discussion back in 1998. The book was the product of a network of missiologists and theologians called the Gospel and Our Culture Network, or GOCN, who sought to build on the seminal work of Bishop Lesslie Newbigin. Their aim was to address “issues of Gospel faithfulness in North American culture,” and it was in this process that the term “missional church” was born, to define the way the church needs to operate if it is indeed to be faithful to the gospel message in the context of Western (not merely North American) culture.

The problem, as Dr. Roxburgh notes in his article, is that until recently, this work has largely “remained a relatively theoretic and abstract academic conversation about the church. Its books and ideas have been shaped more by internal conversations within the missiological academy than attentiveness to the needs of the churches.” Missional Church, for instance, is easily among the small number of truly essential Christian books of the last decade–but it’s also very dense, not easily absorbed or understood, and primarily theoretical in its orientation, short on practical application. It’s to this problem that the September/October 2004 issue of Theology Matters is addressed, as it features Dr. Roxburgh’s article–a concise explanation of what it means for the church to be missional–followed by two pieces arising out of the efforts of College Hill Presbyterian Church in Cincinnati to remake itself into a truly missional congregation. The unfortunate thing is that Theology Matters, while an excellent publication, is little known outside the PC(USA)–or within it, for that matter. That’s why it’s so encouraging to see Leadership step up to address the same problem, and particularly to see it do the job so well. As College Hill’s associate pastor, the Rev. Stephen Eyre, put it, “The missional process is the shift from the church as an institution in a Christian culture, to a community in mission in a non-Christian culture”–and that’s a shift the American church badly needs to make.

Note: Theology Matters is a publication of Presbyterians for Faith, Family and Ministry; its website is http://www.theologymatters.com. I mentioned, a few posts back, the Covenant Network and their newsletter; PFFM is another affinity group within the PC(USA), in this case working the orthodox side of the aisle, and Theology Matters is another of those publications which is sent to every pastor in the denomination (and probably only appreciated by those who agree with it). In this case, it’s a publication which I consider one of the real benefits of ministering in the PC(USA). I would note that a free subscription is available to anyone who’s interested; just go here to sign up.

The butterfly effect and the providence of God

You’ve probably heard of the butterfly effect—the idea that a butterfly flapping its wings in Asia can cause a hurricane in the Caribbean—which is an illustration of one of the key elements in chaos theory, that of sensitive dependence on initial conditions. The idea is that a small change, such as a butterfly’s wingbeat, can produce large results. This sort of sensitivity to initial conditions is one of the things which makes a chaotic system chaotic. (Chaos is not in fact disordered or random, merely highly complex and unpredictable.)

Now, I don’t know much about chaos theory, not being the mathematical type—I leave that to my brother-in-law the chemical engineer. Theology is more my line; and in that line, what I do know is that God works his will through chaotic systems as well as through obvious order, using small events at one point to bring about significant results at another point.

I was reminded of this, in a small way, over the course of the last several days. Last week, as I was sitting in my office planning the Sunday service, I wanted to doublecheck the lyrics to Charlie Peacock’s song “The Harvest Is the End of the World” (from which I had pulled the title for that week’s sermon). I didn’t feel like going home to grab the album (strangelanguage), so I figured I’d look it up on the Internet. I found it, in the archives of two blogs I’d never heard of before, one called Mysterium Tremendum (scroll down to November 12, 2003), and its parent blog (for lack of a better word), The Thinklings. You’ll notice the latter blog heading the links list over on the left; it’s a great blog, and was a completely unexpected and equally welcome discovery.

In the course of exploring The Thinklings, I noticed a post headed “Pachelbel Is Haunting Me,” with the YouTube video of an incredibly funny rant on Pachelbel’s Canon in D, courtesy of a comedian/musician named Rob Paravonian. (If you check the January 2007 archives, it was posted on January 5.) I finally got around to watching it today, laughed hysterically, and played it for my wife, who did the same. She also suggested sending the link to a friend of ours. Said friend called us maybe 20 minutes later, declaring that it was the funniest thing she’d ever seen, that she’d had a terrible day which was now “a zillion times better.” She’s been having a rough couple of weeks, of which today was worse than average, and needed a boost; clearly, this was God’s provision for her to lift her spirits. And it all began last week when I didn’t feel like walking back to the house to grab a tape.

OK, so maybe this doesn’t seem like a big deal—but it was to my friend, and it was to me; and it’s an illustration of how God weaves everything together to bring about the good of those who love him and are called according to his purposes, even in the little things. To Him be the glory.

Umm, what was that about grace?

I just got the latest Covenant Network newsletter yesterday, which included the note that they will no longer be sending their publication to every pastor in the PC(USA), but only to those who pay for it. (For those not familiar with the Presbyterian Church (USA) and its internecine strife, the Covenant Network is one of the affinity groups working for the ordination of self-affirmed practicing homosexuals.) I can’t say as I’ll miss it all that much; maybe I should, for a number of reasons, but I won’t. The smug “we’re on the right side of history” tone annoys me no end, especially when married to the low-quality theology and exegesis I so often find in their work.

Now, some might read that and think I fault them primarily because of their advocacy of homosexuality, but that’s really not the case. There are much deeper issues here, a point signaled by the slogan printed across the front of every CovNet publication: Toward a Church as Generous and Just as God’s Grace. Anyone see a problem with that? For my part, I see two. The first is minor: while we want the church to look as much like God as possible, it is simply beyond human capacity for the church to be as generous as God’s grace. Aim high, sure, but the fact that they so blithely take aim at an impossibility suggests to me that they don’t realize it’s impossible. That in turn suggests that their doctrine of God isn’t high enough by a long shot.

The greater problem is that word “just.” Who in the world ever said, or thought, that God’s grace is just? The very idea is ludicrous. Justice is all about what we earn; God’s grace is all about what he gives us that we have not earned and could never even begin to hope to earn. Confusing the two, as CovNet evidently does, is a major theological error, a fundamental misunderstanding of who God is and who we are (and pretty much everything in between). Attempts to set aside the Scriptural witness on homosexuality are symptoms; this kind of thinking is the true disease. Christianity isn’t about our rights, or what we deserve; it’s about the fact that all we deserve is Hell, and God gives us his kingdom anyway. Maranatha–come, Lord Jesus!

The mystery of redemption

Of the “other important matters” referenced up above there, the most important by far is baseball; and while I have to admit there are bigger stories in America this morning, even someone so unfortunate as to not like baseball has to stop and ponder this a moment: The Boston Red Sox just won the World Series.

But it’s not just that they did it after 86 years of falling short, it’s how. Eleven days ago, Boston was down 0-3 and 8 innings, with the greatest closer in the game, Mariano Rivera, coming on to close out a New York sweep; the Yankees were already preparing for their 412th World Series appearance, or some such ridiculous number. And what happens? Somehow, the Red Sox punched through, launching an eight-game October winning streak that might be the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen happen in baseball (which is saying something). They became the first team in baseball history to come back from an 0-3 deficit to win a playoff series—finishing the sweep in Yankee Stadium! (and leaving millions of Yankee fans wandering around like Esau, wondering where their birthright just went)—then went on to sweep the team with the best record in baseball, the St. Louis Cardinals, on the biggest stage of all, gaining some measure of payback for their WS losses to the Cards in 1946 and 1967. The mind boggles. (Fortunately for one’s sense of sanity, despite the fact that they now have the NFL’s dominant team and baseball’s reigning champion, Boston fans are still Boston fans.)

I don’t just mention this as a baseball fan—that day will come if my beloved Mariners ever manage to climb this mountain (which could easily take 86 years in its own right); I’m also struck by the theology of this moment. If one believes in the sovereignty of God as I do, that Jesus Christ is Lord of everything, then that includes baseball. Which makes sense, because God is the giver of all good gifts and baseball is definitely on that list (yes, even in years when the M’s go 63-99—this postseason made up for a lot of those losses). And if that includes baseball, then the Red Sox’ accomplishment has a lot of things to teach us about the improbable providence of God, and about redemption, because God isn’t only concerned with our “souls,” he’s concerned about all of life. And maybe, just maybe, in the case of the Yankees, this has some things to teach us about humility as well.

“If you think you understand . . .”

I often disagree with Fr. Andrew Greeley—make that usually disagree—on matters of theology, but I respect and enjoy his work all the same; while I think he argues from many incorrect first principles, he’s a man of considerable perception and insight. His latest piece in the Chicago Sun-Times, “There’s No Solving Mystery of Christ,” is a well-written recovery of one of St. Augustine’s greatest insights. As Fr. Greeley puts it in his closing line, “If Jesus makes you feel comfortable with your agenda, then he’s not Jesus.” Amen. Now there’s something that both liberals like Fr. Greeley and conservatives like me really need to bear in mind.(Note:  the original article is no longer online; the link has been repointed to a reposting of the original article.)