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Cross theology (vs everything else)

Martin Luther wrote about what he saw were the two predominant theologies that existed, the theology of glory and the theology of the cross. At the risk of over-simplification, the theology of glory includes the belief that our own works contribute to either our salvation (as in our determination to repent) or our sanctification; that we can work our way “from glory to glory.”

The theology of the Cross keeps people coming back to the finished work of Christ for everything.

There’s an interesting group of folks who call themselves “Resurgence,” who are dedicating to bringing the gospel back into evangelicalism. Most of them seem to be Calvinists, but they are really into Martin Luther. (I think some of them like to think Luther was really a Calvinist, but he wasn’t.)  They have an interesting website, if you can get past the extra-large print and graphics they use. I don’t really know what they are thinking… but that’s beside the point.

In looking at Luther’s 1518 Disputation, Matt Johnson writes a nice little post entitled Why your failures are a blessing.  It’s worth reading. Of note is the following quote from another interesting blog called Mockingbird:

“Theologians of the Cross take great comfort in the thought that, when they are suffering, encountering difficulties of every kind, it is not a sign of God’s abandonment or displeasure, but is, in fact, a mark of His presence and work in our lives…Of course, the problem is, none of us actually believes this…” – via R-J HEIJMEN at Mockingbird

In case you don’t go read the whole post, here’s Matt’s conclusion:

The cross shows us that we are powerless in our ideas of self-salvation. The cross also reminds us that God’s purposes are accomplished even amidst suffering. And sometimes, especially in suffering. Knowing this may not help us feel better when things are going poorly or always give us clarity when bad things happen. But what we do know is this: God deals with sin once and for all at the cross.

 

Written on 04 June 2011 by me under Good News with 1 Comment

Abba does not mean “daddy,” okay?

Justified cringing

Being raised in a formal, liturgical church, I’ve always been uncomfortable with the current fad of calling God “Daddy.” In fact, I cringe every time I hear it.

I used to think this was my own issue, but as it turns out, I have been right to cringe because “abba” does not mean “daddy!” I cringed because I always cringe when adults talk baby-talk.

The abba-daddy myth

As Steve Caruso explains, the abba-daddy myth began in the early 1900′s when one guy you’ve never heard of suggested the “daddy” meaning. He didn’t base his thinking on real scholarship, but based on a hunch about how children learn language (which was wrong, incidentally). He (Joachim Jeremias) also admitted that “abba” was an Aramaic term of respect for older, wise men.

Somehow, someone who thought this analysis fit their own privatized, experiential version of Christianity started spreading the myth around, and now it’s believed by millions of people who are led to believe they must share this gushy kind of sentimentality or be emotionally challenged.

It’s okay to refer to God as “Our Father.” As Paul wrote, “When I was a child, I spoke like a child…” (1 Cor 13:11).

I don’t know how long I can go on cringing—the next time I hear someone refer to God as “daddy,” I may scream.  Just so you know.

 


Written on 03 June 2011 by me under My Own Personal Religion, Random Thoughts with 7 Comments

Tullian Tchividjian rethinks spiritual growth

Rethinking spiritual growth

Tullian Tchividjian is Billy Graham’s grandson, and pastor of Coral Ridge Presbyterian Church (founded by the late James Kennedy). A couple of years ago, he discovered that the Gospel is not just for justification. In his article (reprinted from his own blog) Rethinking Spiritual Growth, he discusses “what it means to ‘work out our salvation with fear and trembling.’” He writes,

In his 2008 movie The Happening, writer, producer, and director M. Night Shyamalan unfolds a freaky plot about a mysterious, invisible toxin that causes anyone exposed to it to commit suicide. One of the first signs that the unaware victim has breathed in this self-destructing toxin is that they begin walking backwards—signaling that every natural instinct to go on living and to fight for survival has been reversed. The victim’s default survival mechanism is turned upside down.

This, in a sense, is what needs to happen to us when it comes to the way we think about progress in the Christian life. When breathed in, the radical, unconditional, free grace of God reverses every natural instinct regarding what it means to spiritually “survive and thrive.” Only the “toxin” of God’s grace can reverse the way we typically think about Christian growth.

The counter-intuitive, external Gospel

As I’ve said before, we need to be constantly evangelizing each other, to counter our natural inclinations to be performance-driven. The Gospel is counter-intuitive, which is one reason why we can rely on it. It is so counter-intuitive that men were not likely to have invented it. It does not arise naturally from within us; it needs to come at us externally.

Humans are created to work; it’s one way we gain our self-esteem. However, it is not how we get saved, healed, better, free, or more holy. At least, not by work in the sense we usually think of it.

Tchividjian continues,

Christian growth does not happen by working hard to get something you don’t have. Rather, Christian growth happens by working hard to daily swim in the reality of what you do have. Believing again and again the gospel of God’s free, justifying grace everyday is the hard work we’re called to.

In John chapter 6, the disciples asked Jesus about the work that he talked about. Here’s the exchange:

28 Then they asked him, “What must we do to do the works God requires?”

29 Jesus answered, “The work of God is this: to believe in the one he has sent.” (NIV)

The hard work of Christianity is to contend for the Gospel—to continuously preach to ourselves and to each other the counter-intuitive truth that, to quote myself, “only grace leads to freedom.” Any other work leads to bondage.

Shameless plug

This is a great place to tell you about my book, co-authored with Dr. Ken Blue (Healing Spiritual Abuse). The Gospel Uncensored: How Only Grace Leads to Freedom, which has been described as “a primer on grace.” We examine grace not only as it applies to salvation/justification, but how it is also the key to living the Christian life. Buy it today—you’ll be glad you did. Seriously.

Written on 02 June 2011 by me under Good News, The Gospel Uncensored with No Comments

The Importance of the External Word

Steve Martin (not the banjo-playing comedian) published a thought-provoking blog post today, discussing how important the external Word of God is to faith, as opposed to placing our faith in our own emotions and thoughts. An excerpt:

Lot’s of Christians speak of the grace of God. “He is our all in all.” He has done it all.” “There is nothing we can add.” That is a good thing.  But there is nothing for many of these Christians to grab hold of. Their beliefs inhabit the nebulous territories of heart and mind. Yes, we believe them. But now what? How can we be SURE that they are true, and real, IN OUR LIVES, at this moment?

It seems that because of the kind of creature that we are, a tactile, tangible, experiential being, our faith must land somewhere. The rubber must meet the road,  somewhere, somehow.

If there’s nothing to grab a hold of that is tangible, that comes to us from outside of ourselves, then we will internalize this desire for solid proof. We will rely on our emotions, our deeds, our thoughts, our knowledge, even our own faith. Welcome to ‘religion’ in the 21st century. Look familiar? It ought to. It’s no different than the religion that humans have practiced for as long as they have been around. It hides behind the pious words and works of those who have no assurance of their salvation, other than what they are able to muster up of their own volition. Then you end up with holiness churches where people are movin’ on up.

But the external Word, which includes the Sacraments of Holy Baptism and Holy Communion, are different. They do not eminate from inside of ourselves and are not dependent on anything that comes from our side of the equation. They are real events that happen in real places with real earthly elements in real time. And the action in these events is not our action, but God’s. His Word is attached to them. Otherwise they just remain earthly elements. And these actions of God are apprehended by the very gift of faith that God also gives to us, in these Sacraments and in the hearing of His Word.

Now we have something that we can HOLD onto. Something that has been given to us with NO strings attached. Something that is REAL…and NOT subject to the winds that blow in and out of our often weak frames, hearts and minds.

We often forget that Christianity is an incarnational faith; that is, it relies on the belief that the “word became flesh” and that Jesus turned real water into real wine and used real mud to heal real eyes. He was baptized with real water, told the disciples to remember him through drinking real wine and eating real bread, and had his real body executed and resurrected.

With regard to his teaching, he said, “He who has ears to hear, let him hear,” not “look into your heart to find the truth.” And, yet we want to spiritualize our faith today, making it dependent upon our own understanding and feelings. No wonder so many fall into doubt and despair.

As Proverbs 3:5 says, “Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.”

How positively archaic.

Written on 01 June 2011 by me under Faith, Science & Doubt with 1 Comment

The Heresy of Charles Finney

Among American evangelicals, Finney stands as something of an icon—a paragon of modern evangelism, a hero to folks like Jerry Falwell and Billy Graham. While I am by no means an expert on Finney or early American revivals (I was raised Lutheran, after all), it has been my impression that Finney actually contributed to the loss of the real gospel (Gal 1:6,7) among many protestant groups.

And yes, I’ve never been one to avoid controversy.

Finney is probably the best-known figure of the 2nd “Great Awakening” (the 1st GA featured folks like Jonathan Edwards, who I’ll save for a future post).  Finney was a Presbyterian, though very much a non-Calvinist (this is probably due in part to the influence of the 1st Great Awakening, with its emphasis on free will).

Finney’s theology appears to have been all over the place, but he was definitely in the Arminian camp, and possibly even Pelagian, holding that man had total control to choose good or evil. Furthermore, sin caused man to lose his justification, resulting in what I call “eternal insecurity”:

“Whenever he sins, he must, for the time being, cease to be holy. This is self-evident. Whenever he sins, he must be condemned; he must incur the penalty of the law of God … The Christian, therefore, is justified no longer than he obeys, and must be condemned when he disobeys or Antinomianism is true … In these respects, then, the sinning Christian and the unconverted sinner are upon precisely the same ground (p. 46, Systematic Theology).”

While Finney claimed to believe in justification by faith, faith for Finney seemed to be a human work. So according to Finney, whether or not you were “saved” appears to depend upon whether you had just sinned or not, or if you repented, whether you had repented sincerely enough.

Dr. Michael Horton, a Presbyterian (and, I believe, a Calvinist), has written a critical analysis of Finney in The Disturbing Legacy of Charles Finney. He points out that Finney didn’t believe in original sin (and therefore Total Depravity was out of the question), and then discusses Finney’s unorthodox views of the atonement:

The first thing we must note about the atonement, Finney says, is that Christ could not have died for anyone else’s sins than his own. His obedience to the law and his perfect righteousness were sufficient to save him, but could not legally be accepted on behalf of others. That Finney’s whole theology is driven by a passion for moral improvement is seen on this very point: “If he [Christ] had obeyed the Law as our substitute, then why should our own return to personal obedience be insisted upon as a sine qua non of our salvation” (p.206)? In other words, why would God insist that we save ourselves by our own obedience if Christ’s work was sufficient? The reader should recall the words of St. Paul in this regard, “I do not nullify the grace of God’, for if justification comes through the law, then Christ died for nothing.” It would seem that Finney’s reply is one of agreement. The difference is, he has no difficulty believing both of those premises.

That is not entirely fair, of course, because Finney did believe that Christ died for something—not for someone, but for something. In other words, he died for a purpose, but not for people. The purpose of that death was to reassert God’s moral government and to lead us to eternal life by example, as Adam’s example excited us to sin. Why did Christ die? God knew that “The atonement would present to creatures the highest possible motives to virtue. Example is the highest moral influence that can be exerted … If the benevolence manifested in the atonement does not subdue the selfishness of sinners, their case is hopeless” (p.209). Therefore, we are not helpless sinners who need to be redeemed, but wayward sinners who need a demonstration of selflessness so moving that we will be excited to leave off selfishness.

Not only did Finney believe that the “moral influence” theory of the atonement was the chief way of understanding the cross; he explicitly denied the substitutionary atonement, which

“assumes that the atonement was a literal payment of a debt, which we have seen does not consist with the nature of the atonement … It is true, that the atonement, of itself, does not secure the salvation of any one” (p.217).

Then there is the matter of applying redemption. Throwing off Reformation orthodoxy, Finney argued strenuously against the belief that the new birth is a divine gift, insisting that “regeneration consists in the sinner changing his ultimate choice, intention, preference; or in changing from selfishness to love or benevolence,” as moved by the moral influence of Christ’s moving example (p.224). “Original sin, physical regeneration, and all their kindred and resulting dogmas, are alike subversive of the gospel, and repulsive to the human intelligence” (p.236).
[bold type mine]

While I disagree on points with Horton (as I am not a Calvinist), I do respect him as a theologian and have benefited from his thinking. Finney raises a few points which may have some merit, such as questioning the penal substitution theory or the Calvinist doctrine of perseverance. However, Finney’s theology—such as placing our salvation in our own hands rather than in God’s—is clearly heretical.

Then, there is Finney’s emphasis on personal experience rather than on objective truth (the Word of God), etc. Someday it may prove to be an interesting analysis. But, not today. However, if someone has a contrary point of view, I’d be happy to consider it.

 

Written on 14 May 2011 by me under Good News, The Gospel Uncensored, Theological Musings with 7 Comments

On de-stressing my life

I’ve dealt with stress for many years. I tried to avoid it for many years, but ended up in a high stress job, which became more and more stressful as the company got more and more screwed up. But, let’s not get into that.

Now, life is also very stressful. I need to find another job or career, and suddenly there are other worries and demands. But, let’s not go there, either.

Three months ago I went to the ER as I was experiencing what I thought was stress-related symptoms, and stayed for triple bypass surgery. Not directly stress-related, but still probably a big factor; it turns out that while I need to stick to a low-cholesterol, low-sodium, low-sugar diet, they told me that managing stress is probably the most important factor in keeping my heart going as long as possible.

Things I learned while replacing a garbage disposal

So, in trying to “manage” stress, here’s what I have discovered: Stress is a response. More accurately, a lot of what we experience as stress is our own programmed response to our circumstances. I’m not saying that stress isn’t out there—there’s a lot of it, and it’s out to get you. But, external stress doesn’t have to become internal stress.

Some of you may be going, “duh…,” but it’s new info for me. At least it’s new info that I have acknowledged. I am not always quick on the uptake.

I have discovered that I have choices as to how I respond, and that this affects my internal stress. At times, I have to choose to walk away from something. Or, instead of getting frustrated over things, I can look at them humorously, like how the “Cosby” characters always responded to each other. I never could relate to that kind of light-hearted approach (my humor tended to be more of the Hawkeye Pierce variety), but am finding that it works.

I’m not successful all of the time.  Okay, much of the time. But, I am looking for the humor in circumstances whenever possible.  If that doesn’t work, I can always go play my banjo.

 

Written on 27 April 2011 by me under Random Thoughts with 5 Comments

Evidence that the Gospels are Eyewitness Accounts

The video posted below caught my attention last night. I clicked on it just to see what it was about, and completely hooked me—I ended up watching the whole hour.

There have been a number of voices recently, such as my favorite target Bart Ehrman, who have claimed that the Gospels are essentially forgeries, written in order to mislead people into believing in Christianity. On the other hand, there is a growing body of evidence to support the position that the Gospels are actually quite reliable, based on eyewitness accounts.

Dr. Peter Willliams is a member of the Faculty of Divinity at Cambridge, among other things. And, he’s quite an engaging speaker, with a Ricky Gervais-like sense of humor (without the nastiness).  More importantly, he presents some pretty compelling information based on recent scholarship that significantly bolsters the “eyewitness” position. The lecture was presented March 5, 2011:

And here is the Q & A session that followed:

I like his approach. This is not “proof,” but is significant evidence in the case for authenticity.

Written on 26 April 2011 by me under Theological Musings with 1 Comment

Ross Douthat’s Case for Hell

From Ross Douthat in the NY Times Opinion Pages:

But the more important factor in hell’s eclipse, perhaps, is a peculiar paradox of modernity. As our lives have grown longer and more comfortable, our sense of outrage at human suffering — its scope, and its apparent randomness — has grown sharper as well. The argument that a good deity couldn’t have made a world so rife with cruelty is a staple of atheist polemic, and every natural disaster inspires a round of soul-searching over how to reconcile with God’s omnipotence with human anguish.

…

Doing away with hell, then, is a natural way for pastors and theologians to make their God seem more humane. The problem is that this move also threatens to make human life less fully human.

Douthat makes some points that are worthy of consideration, whether or not you agree with him.

 

Written on 25 April 2011 by me under Theological Musings with 4 Comments

Turns out I might agree with Karl Barth, kind of

I just found out that in that that great theological fondue pot that is my mind, I have come to a conclusion that is shared with Karl Barth, kind of. (I guess that means that if I’m a heretic, at least I’m a semi-respectable heretic.)  For those who don’t know of Barth, he was a Swiss Reformed theologian that I have many disagreements with (being he was Reformed, for one thing). But, he may have come up with an analysis of election (the belief that God chooses who he will save) that fits in with some of my own thoughts.

Election, free will, and all that jazz

Part of the whole free will / predestination issue, as Philip Cary explains in the audio series I’m listening to, is that popular views on the issue eventually have to conclude that if God did indeed predestine people, then God has also chosen not to save some people. This is a doctrine known as double predestination. In other words, in the event you’re not a Christian, there’s a good chance that God didn’t choose you anyway (so apparently you are in a kind of agreement with God on this point).

The Gospel then is only “good news” (what the word gospel means) for some. It’s obviously very bad news for those who aren’t chosen (at least from the point of view of those predestined for salvation). And, since free will seems kind of a bust (as I discussed in my prior post), then we’re stuck with this Good News/bad news situation.

Who was elected?

Karl Barth proposed that both Luther and Calvin (and Augustine) were wrong in their interpretation of the Jacob and Esau story as discussed in Romans 9:6-14, which is a key part to any discussion on being chosen. The prophecy about the twins (Gen. 25:23), Barth said, was never meant to be about Jacob and Esau personally, but about their descendants the Jews and the not-Jews. Consider the prophecy:

“Two nations are in your womb,
and two peoples from within you will be separated;
one people will be stronger than the other,
and the older will serve the younger.”

Nations. According to Barth, election is always about Israel (the original nation, not necessarily the current U.N.-created state). This reading of the Jacob-Esau story fits incredibly well with a lot of what Jesus and Paul discuss in the NT.

This removes this passage from any discussion of individual salvation and destiny, and also moves the discussion into one of purpose. As we see in the last line of the verse, it is Israel’s calling to serve non-Israel.

What it means to be chosen

Over the last few years as I have been reading and studying, I had started to wonder if we have misunderstood what it means to be chosen. As Tevye pointed out in Fiddler on the Roof, it’s not necessarily a blessing to be chosen. In fact, to think it is a blessing might be to miss the point completely.

What if the point of being chosen was not to bless those who are chosen, but for them to bless others? Israel would not have been elected to be blessed, but rather as a vehicle to bless everyone else. In other words, Israel was to not only be a custodian of God’s promises but a messenger or tool for God to achieve his global agenda. In this way all nations will be blessed through Israel (Gen. 18:18), and provides a new context for “I will bless those who bless you (Gen. 27:29).” Israel was chosen, so that you and I (assuming you’re a gentile) could be blessed; a Good News/Good News scenario.

Back to Barth

So, according to Barth, Augustine and therefore both Luther and Calvin were wrong about election, both in scope and purpose, and I think he makes a compelling argument (from what little I know—Barth also believed that the only one who was truly “elect” was Christ, which I have a harder time with). I can see why Barth has been accused of leaning in a universalist direction, as his interpretation of election removes any notion that God has predestined some for damnation. The non-elect are not the damned; rather, they are those for whom the blessings given to Israel (and now the church) are intended. This, however, doesn’t seem to rule out the option that both the elect or the non-elect could have the option of rejecting God’s calling and blessing.

This gives a different spin to the statement, “Many are called, but few are chosen.”

My grasp on these issues is tenuous at best, but I will keep struggling through. It’s a good thing I enjoy theology. As the church lady character on SNL might say, “Well isn’t that special.”

 

Written on 17 April 2011 by me under Theological Musings with 7 Comments

The Limitations of Free Will

“Mankind has a free will; but it is free to milk cows and to build houses, nothing more.” ~Martin Luther

Contrary to Luther, I believe in free will. I always have. It’s possible, I guess, that I was designed to believe in free will, but I don’t think so. When Peter says, “His divine power has given us everything we need for a godly life through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness (2 Peter 1:3),” I believe him. I believe this means that God has given us what we need to make good choices, and the free will to make really stupid choices. For the most part, the quality of our lives are dependent upon our choices (and, of course, the choices of others).

Obviously, there are those who God has chosen for specific purposes, like Abraham, Jacob, John the Baptist, Paul, and so on. Oh, and the Jews. And, for that matter, us. But, within that destiny, we have a certain amount of choice (not that it did Jonah any good). While I believe (perhaps in vain) in free will, it is clear that the Bible also teaches that we are predestined. This tension has never bothered me; it merely indicates that either I don’t know enough, or that I actually do know enough [to recognize the tension].

Saved by what?

The question of free will becomes more important as we discuss salvation. Are we predestined to be saved, or does our salvation completely depend upon the rhetorical skills of an evangelist (with the help of the Holy Spirit, of course) and our decision to believe or not to believe?

Our reaction to this question often seems to come down to our inability to acknowledge that God might not have to ask us whether to save us or not—it’s not so much a theological issue so much as an emotional one. The mere concept of not having free will is offensive to our modern Western sensibilities.

Face it—no one asked you.

Last week I started thinking about this and realized something very key: no one ever asked me if I wanted to be born in the first place. This is my birth I’m talking about, and I had no input into it whatsoever. Nada. Not just where I’d be born or into what conditions I’d be born, but just being born. I didn’t even have a say about whether I was a boy or a girl. So, considering how little I had to say about my existence so far, how can I build any sort of argument at all that God should ask for my opinion concerning what happens next? (As Paul said, “what right does the clay have to talk back to the potter?”)

The Bible—Jesus himself, for that matter—says a lot of things about those who believe being saved. But then we also have Jesus statement in John 6:44, “No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws them, and I will raise them up at the last day.” Our belief, it seems, is at best a response to what God is already doing; our free will—when it comes to salvation—may merely be “going along for the ride.”

I guess the logical conclusion is that when all is said and done, it doesn’t really matter whether I believe in free will or not; so far, God hasn’t asked my opinions about too many things.

Written on 14 April 2011 by me under Theological Musings with 9 Comments