Reclaiming the gospel?

I applaud the Evangelism and Church Growth arm of the Presbyterian Church (USA)’s General Assembly Council for taking evangelism and church growth seriously. All Christians should, after all, and particularly those called to lead a declining denomination like ours, which is declining in considerable part due to a failure to take them seriously. I applaud them for seeking to reach out to and inspire those “who have a passion for evangelism, for church growth, and a desire to share the gospel message with all God’s people.” I applaud them for holding a contest for middle-school and high-school students to produce a T-shirt design to help them do that; contests have a way of getting people excited, and unveiling the winner at the Evangelism Breakfast at General Assembly should stir up interest.

Where I have a problem is with the theme of that breakfast: “Reclaiming the Gospel.” There are a lot of things we might say we need to do with the gospel, but reclaiming it? In the first place, we don’t need to re-anything the gospel. It is already “the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes,” as Paul teaches us; it doesn’t need anything done to it, and certainly not by us. We just need to stand up with Paul, declare that we aren’t ashamed of it, and preach it.

In the second place, if we did need to re-something the gospel, it wouldn’t be reclaiming it. We never claimed it in the first place—it claimed us, or rather Jesus did, by the power of the Holy Spirit. Theoretically, we as heirs of the Reformation understand that the gospel isn’t about us—it’s something God did for us by his grace, not any of our own doing—and that the power of its proclamation isn’t about us either, it’s about the Spirit of God. To talk of reclaiming the gospel, it seems to me, gets that seriously out of whack, as if we somehow appropriate it and put it to work to accomplish our purposes. No. God appropriates us and puts us to work to accomplish his purposes through us. It’s Christ’s ministry, not ours; it’s the Spirit’s power, not ours; our job is not to reclaim the gospel but rather to submit ourselves to the gospel, to place ourselves at Jesus’ disposal, so that by the leading and power of the Spirit we may be used to carry out his ministry in this world.

I appreciate the heart being shown here for evangelism, but I’m seriously concerned by the fuzzy and human-centered way in which that heart is expressed. This is of a piece, it seems to me, with the very un-Reformed understanding of grace expressed in the Covenant Network’s mission statement, which I think also shows a laudable heart skewed by a serious failure of understanding; it suggests to me that our theological foundations have eroded to a significant extent, such that our guiding assumptions come less from our Reformed heritage than from the world around us. In the end, that’s no way to build up the body of Christ; it’s no way to grow the church.

Rebuild the parties?

That’s what RealClearPolitics’ Jay Cost argues we should do, at the end of a long analysis of the perversities of the Clinton-Obama race. The analysis is quite interesting in its own right, especially in his demonstration that the Democratic nomination process gives more weight to states that vote Republican, but I’m most interested in his concluding remarks:

We ask, why is Congress broken? Perhaps it is because the parties—the greatest mechanisms ever invented for managing governmental agents—have been stripped of their power. They have been given over to what scholars call “candidate control.” Candidates are not responsible to the parties and the voters they represent. Instead, the parties are in service to the candidates. There is no doubt that the parties of the 19th and early 20th centuries were malfunctioning, corrupt, and irresponsible. But rather than reform them, we decimated them. I think this nomination debacle is, in part, the fault of our disregard for the political parties. They are these hollowed-out husks that cannot handle the simple task of resolving a two-way dispute.

Here’s a question for you. Take the presidents of the last 40 years: Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan, Bush 41, Clinton, Bush 43. Granted, Ford was never elected, but neither were folks like Chester Alan Arthur. On my read, ranking the presidents, that’s one second-tier great president (Reagan) and a bunch of folks who are mediocre or worse. Now compare them to the presidents of the previous 170 years—a list which, yes, includes failures like James Buchanan, U. S. Grant, and Herbert Hoover, just as much as it does the likes of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln. But still, taken all in all, compare the lists. Are we really better off for the primary/caucus system we have now for choosing presidential nominees than we were under the more party-dominated system of the past? And if you think we are, are we enough better off to justify the massive amounts of money spent on advertising for primaries and caucuses? (To say nothing of having to endure all that advertising, and all the rhetoric, and all the rest of it.) Our current setup is clearly more democratic than the way parties used to choose their nominees . . . but I’m starting to think we might actually be better off here with a little less democracy.

Henry Hyde, RIP

I’ve been meaning to post on this for several months now, and have kept getting sidetracked; which is unfortunate, because when Illinois Rep. Henry Hyde passed away on November 29 of last year, American politics lost both one of its most colorful and interesting characters, and one of its most profound conservative thinkers. Rep. Hyde was probably best known, and of greatest significance, for his long-running legislative advocacy of the pro-life movement, but his influence was felt across a great many subjects, perhaps most notably in his work as chairman of the House Judiciary Committee, and in his deep interest in foreign policy. He was a man of great gifts and great character, but what really made him a great American was his understanding of what his job required of him; as he once told a group of newly-elected members of Congress, “Permit me to suggest, on the basis of long experience, that if you don’t know what you’re prepared to lose your seat for, you’re going to do a lot of damage up here. You have to know what you’re willing to lose everything for if you’re going to be the kind of member of Congress this country needs.” Henry Hyde knew exactly what he was willing to lose everything for; and our country is by far the better for it. Requiescat in pace.

In defense of the church, part II: The institution

I had been intending to go a different direction with the second post in this series, but then Jared posted on “The Institution-less Church,” and posted a chunk I’d forgotten about from the interview Eugene Peterson did a while back with Mark Galli in CT, “Spirituality for All the Wrong Reasons.” Consider this, from Eugene:

What other church is there besides institutional? There’s nobody who doesn’t have problems with the church, because there’s sin in the church. But there’s no other place to be a Christian except the church. There’s sin in the local bank. There’s sin in the grocery stores. I really don’t understand this naive criticism of the institution. I really don’t get it.

Frederick von Hugel said the institution of the church is like the bark on the tree. There’s no life in the bark. It’s dead wood. But it protects the life of the tree within. And the tree grows and grows and grows and grows. If you take the bark off, it’s prone to disease, dehydration, death.

So, yes, the church is dead but it protects something alive. And when you try to have a church without bark, it doesn’t last long. It disappears, gets sick, and it’s prone to all kinds of disease, heresy, and narcissism.

Then put that together with this comment from the Rev. Dr. Paul Detterman’s sermon to our presbytery, on which I posted a couple days ago:

God’s Word is also oblivious to cherished structures and institutions we have created in our own image and then attributed to God—like denominations, and presbyteries, and congregations, and sessions . . . These institutions seem very real to us. We even mistakenly call them “church.” But not one of them exists with their own set of adjectives and attributes. There is no such thing as a “faithful” congregation or a “faithless” denomination. The structures that “organize” organized faith are simply that—organizing systems devoid of characteristics except what individual people bring in to them. This presbytery is only a gathering of individuals who are more or less committed to living as God’s faithful children—working for God’s shalom in God’s world.

Then let me add one other reference, this more of a personal one. My father grew up in the Church of God (Anderson, IN), which arose under the leadership of D. S. Warner out of the Holiness movement. Convinced that denominationalism was a source of bad things, he intentionally founded a “movement” rather than a denomination. Now, they have a college and a seminary, they have a headquarters, they have a structure—by any definition, they’re a denomination. By any definition except their own, that is; they’re still firmly “anti-denominational.”

I think one problem in all this, and one reason for the criticism Eugene doesn’t get, is that we expect too much of the institution, whether it be the local congregation, the denomination, or anything in between. We expect the institution to reflect God, to carry out the ministry of Jesus, to attract people, and so on and so forth, which is a set of expectations it just can’t carry. Dr. Detterman has the right of it—the institution is just a structure to organize our activities to help us function. Eugene has the right of it—the institution is a dead thing that protects and gives form to the live thing underneath. But that points us to the reality that the structure isn’t going to do the work of the church, because the structure isn’t the church; we together are the church, and the structure is there to enable us as we do the work of the church. To avoid facing that, though, we tend to pile those expectations on the institution instead, and then when it fails, we blame it, and denounce it, and set off to find a better way.

But what better way is there? Jared got it right when he noted, “the dudes most passionate about killing ‘church institution’ aren’t exactly institution-less . . . their institution is just sexier.” The example of the Church of God (Anderson) shows, I think, that the best we can do is replace one institution with another, because true institution-less-ness would be anarchy, and anarchy doesn’t work; as Eugene says, a church without an institution is like a tree without bark, soon to stop functioning properly due to disease.

I also suspect that we object to the “institutional church” because it gets in the way of us doing what we want; but in reality, that’s part of its purpose. Yes, there is a tendency for institutions to become self-justifying and self-serving, and that’s a bad thing; but is that the fault of institutions, or of the people in them? That’s a human sin, and attacking institutions won’t change it. If anything, doing that makes it worse, because the existence of the institution, for all its faults, reminds us that it has a purpose. We can still do all the touchy-feely “spirituality” stuff that’s all about us without any kind of formal structure, but a congregation that never really goes beyond that is about as self-justifying and self-serving as anything can be; what we need the institution for is to do the things that take us beyond ourselves, the things that actually require work and effort and need organization and structure to support them and keep them going. You know, all the “go into the world and make disciples of all nations, teaching and baptizing” stuff that Jesus commands us to do that we don’t always find wonderfully comfortable and congenial. The institutional church cannot be just about us. Maybe that’s part of our objection to it, too.

Is Richard Dawkins really an atheist?

Or has he simply rejected a watered-down version of God that isn’t the God of the Bible and Jewish/Christian tradition? After running across this joint interview Time conducted with him and Dr. Francis Collins in November 2006, I’m not so sure. Check out this exchange:

TIME: Could the answer be God?

DAWKINS: There could be something incredibly grand and incomprehensible and beyond our present understanding.

COLLINS: That’s God.

DAWKINS: Yes. But it could be any of a billion Gods. It could be God of the Martians or of the inhabitants of Alpha Centauri. The chance of its being a particular God, Yahweh, the God of Jesus, is vanishingly small—at the least, the onus is on you to demonstrate why you think that’s the case.

How about, for starters, that if one goes to Scripture and to the history of Christian thought—perhaps especially to the Augustinian stream out of which the Reformers arose, but not only—what one finds satisfies Dr. Dawkins’ conditions? This makes me wonder if he is in fact rebelling, not against true Christianity, but against one of the debased, culturally comfortable forms of the sort that moved J. B. Phillips to declare, Your God Is Too Small. (Interesting that he addressed the subtitle “to believers and skeptics alike.”) Certainly in a lot of ways, Dr. Dawkins sounds a lot more like St. Augustine and John Calvin there than he does an atheist.

Then there’s this, the final word of the interview as printed:

DAWKINS: My mind is not closed, as you have occasionally suggested, Francis. My mind is open to the most wonderful range of future possibilities, which I cannot even dream about, nor can you, nor can anybody else. What I am skeptical about is the idea that whatever wonderful revelation does come in the science of the future, it will turn out to be one of the particular historical religions that people happen to have dreamed up. When we started out and we were talking about the origins of the universe and the physical constants, I provided what I thought were cogent arguments against a supernatural intelligent designer. But it does seem to me to be a worthy idea. Refutable—but nevertheless grand and big enough to be worthy of respect. I don’t see the Olympian gods or Jesus coming down and dying on the Cross as worthy of that grandeur. They strike me as parochial. If there is a God, it’s going to be a whole lot bigger and a whole lot more incomprehensible than anything that any theologian of any religion has ever proposed.

Three thoughts on this. First, Dr. Dawkins sounds here a lot more respectful of religion in potential than he ever has of any particular religion; which suggests that his mind is rather more open on the point than I ever would have guessed, and also seems to me to further support the thought I voiced above. I strongly suspect that if anyone asked the right questions, we’d find that the god Richard Dawkins doesn’t believe in is a god the church doesn’t believe in either, and that his view of what Christianity actually is would prove to be more than a little out of whack.

Second, his lumping Jesus together with the Greek gods fits in with that; it shows real ignorance and failure to understand. If he sees the Incarnation as of a piece with Greek mythology, I hardly blame him for rejecting it.

And third, I think the root of that failure is to be found in the one thing that doesn’t occur to him: that that God he has powerfully described might have acted to reveal himself, rather than waiting for us to get smart enough to reveal him for ourselves. I almost think the only thing that divides Dr. Dawkins and orthodox Christian faith—and of course it’s a very large thing—is the absence of a doctrine of revelation.

In case anyone suspects this interview might not be representative of Dr. Dawkins’ views in this regard, he sounded very similar in a fascinating interview with Ruth Gledhill of the Times; he even told Ms. Gledhill, a Christian, “I don’t think you and I disagree on anything very much but as a colleague of mine said, it’s just that you say it wrong.” (Check out her blog for more thoughts and material.)

Lenten Song of the Week

The longer I go on and the more I learn, the more convinced I become that one of the great holes in contemporary Western Protestant theology, of all stripes, is the absence of any real understanding, let alone doctrine, of the priesthood of Christ. It’s one of the reasons Ascension is pretty much forgotten even in most churches that otherwise observe the liturgical year. This is not good for our spiritual health.

He Was Heard
(Hebrews 5:7)In the days of old, the priest would come
With a lifeless sacrifice,
While the crowd in anxious silence would wait outside.
As he entered in the Temple,
They only hoped he would be heard,
God would give them a tomorrow,
And the priest would stay alive.Their only chance, their only hope:
Would he be heard?
The only way they might be saved—
Would he be heard?
In the fullness of the promised time,
The final priest did come,
And he offered up a living sacrifice.
Now we his children wait for him
With hope and joyful praise,
For we know that God has heard him,
For we know that he was raised!He offered tearful prayers
And he was heard;
He offered up his life
And he was heard.
So let us fix our eyes upon
The priest whom God did hear;
For the joy that was before him,
He overcame the fear.
For once and all he paid the cost,
Enduring all the shame,
Taking up the cruel cross,
Ignoring all the pain.Words: Michael Card
Music: Michael Card and Randy Scruggs

© 1984 Whole Armour Publishing
From the album
Known By the Scars, by Michael Card

Blinded by the darkness

As I posted a few weeks ago, the Rev. Dr. Paul E. Detterman, past PC(USA) associate for worship and current executive director of Presbyterians for Renewal, preached an excellent sermon on 1 John 2:1-11 and Matthew 28:18-20 at our February presbytery meeting. His sermon has now been posted on PFR’s website (note: it’s a PDF), and I encourage you to read it. He’s speaking in this message as a Presbyterian to Presbyterians, so it’s addressed specifically to intra-Presbyterian issues, but it is by no means limited to them. There’s a lot in this sermon, but I want to highlight a few things in particular.

You have invited me to preach the Word of God, and preaching God’s Word can be a very dangerous thing. God’s Word is liberal enough to make conservative people very nervous—but it is also conservative enough to make liberals squirm. And because most of us have our emotional/ideological feet far out in the aisle at any gathering like this, when God’s Word rolls through, toes will be smashed. It happens.

This was part of Dr. Detterman’s opening paragraph; I appreciated the reminder as he began speaking that we should never open the Scriptures assuming they’re only going to tell us what we’re comfortable hearing. God isn’t limited to what we like.

We forget basic theology so easily—like who God is and who we are and why we should care. Theological amnesia is not a liberal problem or a conservative problem—it is a human problem. It is the human problem, to be exact, and it is exactly where our passage from John’s letter begins.

Indeed, it’s all too easy to go about our normal lives in a very ungodly forgetfulness, rather than living out the reality of who we are in God in the cold, hard facts of our daily circumstances and situations and choices. Specifically, Dr. Detterman identifies the three great inhibitors of our call to carry out the Great Commission as the inverse of 1 Corinthians 13:13: we have forgotten biblical faith, hope, and love. That doesn’t mean we’ve forgotten those words—but we’ve forgotten what they really mean, and replaced their biblical content with our own.

We really don’t know how dark our present darkness really is until we see flashes of God’s penetrating light—then we see how much of God’s reality we are missing.

The problem is, as John notes, there is something in us that prefers darkness and resists the light, and so we let the darkness blind us, congratulating ourselves all the while on how well we see.It’s a great sermon, and there’s a lot more to it than this; again, I encourage you to read it for yourself, especially if you’re a part of the Presbyterian Church (USA)—no matter where you stand on the conflicts that wrack this denomination, Dr. Detterman’s sermon will challenge you toward greater faithfulness.

Is there an echo in here . . . ?

Or is it just me?

Hap tagged me in another meme (or maybe I should call that a Hap zap), of which the rules are as follows:

1. List at least two posts (with links) that have resonated with you. Do not include your own posts!
2. Give a brief explanation why you like the post.
3. Tag four other people.

Resonated. What has echoed in my thoughts?

The Foolishness of Preaching: I especially value this one as a preacher myself. Whether at his own blog (as here) or on the Thinklings, I really appreciate Jared Wilson’s insight; this one was one of those “Why didn’t I think of that?” moments.

Lukewarm: Jake’s a friend of Hap’s, which in my book makes him a friend of mine, at least of sorts, even though I’ve never met the man. Anyway, we’ve all read the letter to the Laodiceans in Revelation 3, but how many of us have ever taken the next step to see lukewarmness as a trial and temptation, and something the Enemy consciously uses against us? I’m still absorbing this one.

Why No One Here Is Laughing at My Jokes: Dr. John Stackhouse is a brilliant theologian, a good and godly man, and in his acerbically witty style, one of the funniest people I’ve ever run across. I enjoyed being around him at Regent, and I think he’s wonderful. I do know, though, that some folks were put off by his sense of humor. This is a powerful piece of self-reflection on that subject; maybe it will inspire you, as it did me, to some of your own.

Doctrine as the “constitution for a community”: Confessing Evangelical is the blog of a British Lutheran lawyer who’s not only pretty deep theologically, but draws in some very interesting cross-currents. When (soon, I hope) I get around to “Defending the church, part II,” I’ll be drawing seriously on this post.

Lent: Dancing in Shadows & Light: This is something of a stand-in (what’s the term I want? Metanoia?) for the Anchoress’ ongoing reflections on Lent; I chose it as the newest up and as one of my favorites. I love the image.

Genesis 12:1-4 Pastoral Prayer: I’ve already noted that Doug Hagler and I don’t agree on all that much; but he has written some beautiful prayers. This one especially moves my soul.

An early New Year’s resolution from my wife which I, in many ways, am still trying to catch up with. “How different would our interactions with each other be if in looking at each other, our first thought was ‘Here is the work of God’s hand’”?

So, tags . . .

Sara
Barry
Erin
Wayne (what the heck, he’s got to do one of them sometime)

The Islamic world is turning on al’Qaeda

So reports the Financial Times—and one big reason is the war in Iraq. Major religious figures, significant theologians of the Islamic world, who previously supported al’Qaeda and its jihadist ideology are now turning against it and denouncing it; what’s more, the “awakening” that began in Anbar province of Iraq, as the people of Anbar turned to side with the US against al’Qaeda, has spread. For all those on the left who have insisted that the invasion of Iraq has done nothing but turn the hearts of people in the Middle East against us, crucially, it is al’Qaeda that is “losing the war of minds”—and if we will stay the course, that could make all the difference.

Lenten Song of the Week

This hymn isn’t one of the best-known cross hymns, but I’ve always been very fond of it.

In the Cross of Christ I GloryIn the cross of Christ I glory,
Towering o’er the wrecks of time.
All the light of sacred story
Gathers ’round its head sublime.

When the woes of life o’ertake me,
Hopes deceive, and fears annoy,
Never shall the cross forsake me.
Lo! it glows with peace and joy.

When the sun of bliss is beaming
Light and love upon my way,
From the cross the radiance streaming
Adds more luster to the day.

Bane and blessing, pain and pleasure
By the cross are sanctified.
Peace is there that knows no measure,
Joys that through all time abide.Words: John Bowring
Music: Ithamar Conkey
RATHBUN, 8.7.8.7