Why You Should Listen to Your Father-in-Law

There’s this really great story in Exodus 18. Moses is leading the Israelites through the wilderness and his father-in-law, Jethro, comes to visit. Now, Moses to this point has acted in the formal definition of a judge – the same way you find Deborah or Gideon responding later in Israel’s development. Judge meant rescuer or deliverer – one who fights on the behalf of another. That’s why God chose Moses to act as his judge in Egypt.

Somewhere along the way, Moses reinvented what a judge should be. Starting in verse 13, we see Moses sit down in a chair and begin to settle grievances among the people essentially acting in a legal capacity. A “judge” becomes someone who renders decisions in a legal fashion rather than someone who rescues others. Look at Moses’ answer to Jethro in verses 14-15:

Moses answered him, “Because the people come to me to seek God’s will. Whenever they have a dispute, it is brought to me, and I decide between the parties and inform them of God’s decrees and instructions.”

Jethro, in his own father-in-law way, tells Moses this is a horrible idea. But Jethro doesn’t put his finger on the real issue either. He says that Moses will be overwhelmed by the administrative task of rendering legal decisions for everyone. He advised him to spread out the responsibility. Good administrative decision. But one that misses the bigger picture. The reason Moses was sitting there in the first place is because he had exchanged the God’s original idea of judge as rescuer and deliver for the human concept that a judge uses delegated authority to tell everybody else what to do.

I’m not big on symbolic interpretation or anything, but this story strikes me as relevant to Jesus’ death on the cross. The crucifixion is not really the issue. It’s our inability to interpret the cross outside of what we know and understand. Just as Moses traded in the original understanding of  a judge as deliverer for the belief that a judge renders a legal decision, we too throughout history have done the same thing. We’re the ones that based it on feudal honor (Anselm) and breaking the law (Calvin). We treat the death of Jesus as a “transactional” event. God was angry. Someone had to pay. Jesus took God’s punishment. Justice has been served. We came up with the legal model. Of course, now we are so used to talking about it that we can’t see the cross without it. The cross was necessary, though I’m not sure the reasons we have constructed are the reasons God initially intended. It takes only a cursory look at the verses preceding John 3:16 the know that the cross was about more than “breaking the law” in some cosmic courtroom - it was about reconciliation and healing. A point Moses makes clear a few pages over in Numbers 21 (I talk about that in-depth here).

I think Jethro had a point. Most fathers-in-law do. He knew Moses had created a way of understanding  judgment far removed from God’s original calling. We do the same. How freeing would it be to embrace the cross as an avenue for rescue, redemption, and reconciliation?

Don’t Like Unlimited Atonement? Take It Up With Jesus.

I’ve always struggled with the end of Matthew 22:1-14: the Parable of the Marriage Feast. I think it’s great that when the master’s acquaintances dishonor him by refusing the invitation to the feast, the master invites anyone else who might be willing to attend so that the wedding hall could be filled with guests. To me, that’s very much a view of unlimited atonement. However, at the end of the parable, the master throws some guy out for not having on the proper wedding garment - something I had always been taught that each guest personally brings with them. I’ve heard some preachers imply that the garment represents faith or good works or divine election, depending which one of those “vices” appeals most to your theological leanings. But I came across something a while back that changed how I read the last part of this parable.

This ”wedding garment” (sometimes called a Kuftan) is an outer robe that was worn at formal functions. Everyone wore this garment, whether they owned one or not. It was a symbol of equality: once everyone had theirs on, status and prestige disappeared and all respect was paid to the bridegroom alone. But the most important thing about this wedding garment was that it was provided by the host family to everyone who attended. Wealthy families (the kind that would’ve staged this feast) had a closet of them solely for the purpose of giving them out to their guests.

Now, that should change things for you. The master in the story sees a man in the main room (not in the foyer where the garments were given out) without his wedding garment on. He says, “Friend, how did you come in here (the main hall) without your wedding garment (Kuftan)?” In other words, you were offered a Kuftan when you entered…and the only reason you wouldn’t have it on now is if you purposefully chose to reject it. And that obstinate behavior is what caused the master to throw the guest out of the party.

You see, according to the context of first century Judaism, everyone would have received a wedding garment. There was no need to earn it, nor was it given to only a select or arbitrary few. Anyone and everyone received the garment regardless of socio-economic background or cultural status. And once everyone was together wearing their robes, egalitarianism reigned in the house of the master. And that’s exactly what Jesus was trying to say. Everyone gets a robe…unless they refuse to wear it. And even then, the master in this story offered the guest a second chance to reconsider before he threw him out – but the guest did not respond.

God’s not looking to throw anyone out of the party. In fact, you really have to want to get thrown out. And in this way, the marriage feast parable is fairly explicit in teaching unlimited atonement. To read beyond or dismiss this contextual clue is irresponsible. Personally, I’m thankful it’s in there. I’ve been stubborn enough at times to resist the wedding garment only to be drawn back to the king when he entreats me to return to the Kuftan closet and put it on. In this parable, the wedding garment is not a sign of judgment. It’s availability to all guests is a sign of God’s mercy and grace to anyone and everyone who wants to attend the feast.

Spiritual Gifts and Reformed Theology: Can They Co-exist?, Part 2

3) Confining spiritual gifts to conversion: By the time of the Reformation, Christian mysticism had developed into several different strands. The mystical treatises previous to Luther’s time always emphasized the availability of God’s presence in a post-conversion state, similar to the doctrines of sanctification and the baptism in the Holy Spirit of the Holiness and Pentecostal traditions. But Luther consciously rejected these mystics and chose to draw from the work of John Tauler and the anonymous Theologia Germanica instead. Both of these works (and subsequently Luther) taught that all the gifts you need you receive at conversion alone. There is no post-conversion experience and the gifts these works cite are the Isaiah list passed down through Scholasticism. This is really the first place that the idea of “one baptism, many fillings” shows up in Christian history. Any experience a believer can have originates strictly at the salvation moment. There is no baptism in the Holy Spirit other than what the Holy Spirit does to enforce the saving work of Christ.

Because of all of this, Luther’s commentaries pass over most passages that describe Jesus’ healings in the gospels. Miracles have passed away and “no new and special revelation or miracle is necessary” since an “immeasurably greater and more glorious work and miracle” is found in salvation. Tongues is no longer given since the church speaks all languages and only “fanatical spirits and sectarians” would seek such a gift. Luther, like Gregory before him,  attaches merit to not seeking spiritual gifts since “nobody should presume to exercise it if it is not necessary or required.” The inference here is that since God determines all detailed events in life by his sovereignty, the need for signs and wonders should never arise. A miracle would contradict the natural order and ultimately contradict God’s predetermined will.

Calvin towed the line, stating that healing “had its beginning from the Apostles, which afterwards, however, was turned into superstition, as the world almost always degenerates into corruptions.” His cessation sentiments are similar to those before him: “[The possibility of spiritual gifts] either does not exist today or is less commonly seen.” Counterfeit miracles are determined by their association with wrong doctrine rather than their supernatural nature. For Calvin, the more charismatic gifts of 1 Corinthians have mutated into more permanent gifts of the intellect – tongues is seen as the ability to preach in a foreign language and the gift of discernment is the ability to rationally determine false doctrine. That sounds alot like the Reformed tendencies of today to me.

4) Modern expressions of these issues: Charismatics maintained a distinct post-conversion experience until the rise of the the Third Wave movement in Pentecostalism. Beginning in the 1980s with its influence continuing well into the 1990s, the basic premise of Third Wave groups is to embrace the move of the Holy Spirit, particularly the aspects of healing, deliverance, intimacy of worship, and spiritual warfare without disrupting the general church structures or denominations of which they are apart. The phrase was coined by C. Peter Wagner, who spearheaded the doctrinal emphasis of the movement. On a practical level, however, John Wimber and the Vineyard Movement were the driving force behind the Third Wave phenomenon. Wimber, once an associate of Chuck Smith, would eventually separate from Calvary Chapel due to his emphasis on spiritual gifts while choosing to retain a Reformed approach to doctrinal issues. Similarly, Wagner cites a Reformed-based approach to spiritual gifts in describing Third Wave doctrine. This is particularly evident in the Third Wave belief that the baptism in the Holy Spirit only occurs at conversion with multiple fillings that may resemble what Pentecostals would normally consider a second experience. Once again, “one baptism, many fillings” is directly imported from the Reformed tradition. Also, common the Third Wavers is the absence of the gift of tongues. Though the Third Wave movement made some charismatic manifestations acceptable in mainline denominations, it aggressively minimized the distinctive phenomena that had characterized the Pentecostal movement since its inception. Following its Reformed roots, the Third Wave essentially made Pentecostalism non-Pentecostal.

Many theologians, although accepting limited roles of experience, reject a secondary post conversion event. James Dunn, Max Turner, and Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen restrict forms of Spirit baptism to the conversion experience. Unfortunately, even some Pentecostal theologians have gone along with the crowd. Assemblies of God theologian Gordon Fee followed the Reformed tendency to see sanctification as merely a “metaphor for conversion.” So even though charismatic manifestations are now acceptable, all historical attempts to integrate spiritual gifts into Reformed theology have consistently resulted in the diluting of spiritual gifts. Reformed attempts to integrate spiritual gifts have generally left charismatic Christianity a mile wide and an inch deep. History proves this to be true. And though it’s not the popular opinion, I just can’t accept that. I can’t help but feel that Christian spirituality is meant to be deep and event-laden. To minimize the charismata is remove one of the main points of intimacy between us and God. Though others see the gifts as expendable, I’ll take them every time. Can spiritual gifts and Reformed theology co-exist? If historical precedent is any indication, the answer is no.

Spiritual Gifts and Reformed Theology: Can They Co-exist?, Part 1

A little while back, I told some fellow bloggers here that I didn’ t think charismatic gifts (the traditional 1 Corinthians list) and traditional Reformed theology were compatible. Though you could write a book on this topic, I do want to address some the issues I believe make them difficult to reconcile. As always, you’re free to disagree and comment. Please know that I am writing this assuming a basic understanding of both topics at hand. I won’t be stopping for definitions and the like. I’ll handle the issues in this order: 1) allegorization of miracles, 2) the Isaiah gift list, 3) confining spiritual gifts to conversion, and 4) modern expressions of these issues.

1) Allegorization of miracles: Even though the gifts of the Spirit were still common during the postbiblical period (even by “scaffolding model” timelines), clergy began to substitute allegorical interpretations for actual miraculous events and charismata. The need for miracles and spiritual gifts began to be seen as an elementary approach to Christianity, similar to the way the Alexandrian school taught that literal interpretation of scripture was beneath a mature believer. Rather, God’s acts of creation and the ”healing” of the soul (conversion) became the true miracles of the church. Augustine, in his Homilies on the Gospel of John, stated, “The Samaritans had waited for no sign, they believed simply His word.” Emphasizing faith that does not require miracles, he stated that mature Christians have “believed on Christ through the gospel; we have seen no signs, none do we demand.” Earlier, disgusted with commoners’ use of amulets to cure disease, Augustine stated that we should “rejoice” when someone is sick “tossed about with fever and pains” in hopes that the gospel “placed at the heart” will “heal it from sin.” Sin was the most urgent “disease” facing humanity. The Reformers picked this line of reasoning up.

2) Substitution of the Christological gifts of Isaiah 11 for the 1 Corinthians 12 list: Around the same time, clergy began to teach regularly on the gifts in Isaiah 11:2-3. The Isaiah list (wisdom, understanding, counsel, might, knowledge, piety, and the fear of the Lord) became the standard gift “list” associated with the Christian walk. Though it is difficult to speculate exactly why these gifts were chosen over the 1 Corinthians list, some reasons do come to mind. For one, the Isaiah list prophetically describes the giftings of Christ. The church at this time was highly involved in defining Christology against heretical movements and the Isaiah gifts reflected that concern. Secondly, the gifts in Isaiah had less of a supernatural element to them. Wisdom, for example, has a more natural element to it than say, tongues. Counsel could be gained through interaction with creation – the Augustinian vehicle for God’s self-revelation – as opposed to prophecy which required direct revelation and inner experience. Third, the 1 Corinthians gifts appealed to the direct experience of the individual believer – something most ecclesiastical authorities believed was dangerous, particularly after the Montanism “scare.”

The Isaiah list didn’t replace the 1 Corinthians list overnight. Beginning with the Alexandrian school, spiritual gifts were adapted to accommodate theological beliefs. Origen cited language, wisdom, and knowledge as gifts only available to “worthy receivers.” Ambrose, describing the sacrament of confirmation, emphasized the reception of the “sevenfold gift” – listing the traits of Christ in Isaiah 11. Augustine followed suit. Gregory the Great made this substitution permanent. In his famous Pastoral Rule, Gregory wrote a tremendous amount about love and self-control but steered away from any recognition of the power gifts listed in 1 Corinthians. In his commentary on Job, Gregory explained that the seven gifts act as armor against spiritual attack and other evils. In a homily on Pentecost, Gregory specifically addressed the gifts in 1 Corinthians, but in the postbiblical age, he stated they are considered the gift of the clergy alone. Parishioners would do better to focus on the seven gifts that promote fruitful Christian living rather than power gifts that could possibly lead to pride.

We find the consummation of the allegorical and sevenfold gift traditions in the Reformed tradition. Luther’s German translation of the hymn, Veni Creator Spiritus, while referencing the seven gifts, allegorically interprets the gift of tongues as preaching: “You are with sevenfold gifts/The finger of God’s right hand/You deliver the Father’s Word speedily/With tongues into all the lands.”  These ideas are still reflected in Reformed theology today.

I’ll discuss issues 3 and 4 tomorrow…

Come On, Just How Bad Is Calvinism?, Part 3

Let’s turn to the pastoral implications of Reformed theology. At the beginning, even Calvin underestimated just how many people would react strongly against his theology. His first draft of the Institutes barely developed a full understanding of predestination. The practical implications of his views came under such severe attack that by his third revision, his defense of those topics comprised the majority of the Insititutes. And as we’ve seen, plenty of people in history have rejected that view of God. Interestingly, some of the most important Reformed theologians have found that the only way to adopt predestination is to believe that God predestines everyone for salvation except a few reprobates – basically, what amounts to universalism. So what makes Reformed theologians so uneasy? The practical/pastoral implications of their theological system.

The pastoral obstacles in Calvinism are staggering. Though the Reformed belief system in a theological setting seems somewhat reasonable, in a popular/church setting, it quickly gets misconstrued and misinterpreted. Calvinists usually roll their eyes at those who misinterpret Reformed doctrine, but who’s to blame for this? The average Christian attempting to make sense of life’s tragedies or Reformists who assume that most people are simply unable to understand the mysteries of God? As a pastor, I have serious problems with that. To dismiss the average Christians’ concern over God’s nature is to dimiss someone made in the image of God. Any system that refuses to address life’s questions in a way that most accurately meets the needs of average Christians is not practical. It’s theoretical – useless to a caring pastor. Calvinism’s inability to translate into a feasable model for practical Christianity is its main drawback.

In a popular setting, Reformed answers to tragedy and misfortune sound terribly inhumane. Secularists constantly bring this up with good reason. Why would anyone choose to believe that God would ordain miscarriages to allow a time of spiritual reflection for a mother?  The implications are there. Though I personally don’t know why miscarraiges happen, my lack of an answer would never compel me to blindly adopt an explanation that assaults the character of God or crushes the spirit of another human, no matter how neat and tidy it may seem.  Christians lose the respect of others when we say things like the accidental death of a two year old can do more for Jesus than that child’s life could have. We see more popularized versions of this idea in congregational prayers that end all requests with “if it be thy will” or in church marqee signs that say: “Drive Carefully. Cars aren’t the only things recalled by their Maker.”

More importantly, Reformed solutions to tragedy rarely help relieve and emotional suffering. Make no mistake – people who receive answers like, “God is in control of everything” and “This is all part of God’s plan” continue to have questions. They just put those questions on hold until one day “all things” will be revealed. Sorry people, though this sounds spiritually valid, it makes absolutely no sense. Similarly, popular notions of Calvinistic thinking affect the efficacy of prayer. Prayer becomes merely a spiritual discipline with little bearing on life circumstances.

If we take Calvinistic theology to its logical consequences on a practical level, we end up with questions like: why do you protect your children from harm? Or, why do you lock your doors at night? If all events are ordained, you would think people would do better to assist the hand of God in such matters. I actually had someone tell me that exposing children to hazzardous consequences actually helps them learn proper boundaries. That’s fine to believe that but if you start on that slippery slope, which hazzards are appropriate: a fall down the stairs, a hot stove, or drowning in a swimming pool? Are pain and heartache God’s choice means of correction for adults as well? Once again, Calvinists are rolling their eyes at me. They would claim such objections to Reformed theology take the theological system beyond its intent. Exactly. If that’s the case, then theology has no practical value and Calvinism is something trivial to tinker with – like a model airplane or a doll collection.

All that to say this. The popular lesson derived by common Christians from Reformed theology is this: God doesn’t care and I am powerless to affect my circumstances for the better in any way. Calvinism breeds passive resignation in life. Most people walk away thinking “why try?”

Also, as a “charismatic” Christian, Reformed theology has always carried cessationist tendencies. The primacy of the Word is protected against prophetic inspiration. I simply cannot under any circumstances agree to that. People desperately need power to confront the obstacles they face in life. I’m not sure how Reformed “charismatics” can justify their adherence to a doctrine that flatly disputes their own spiritual experiences.

Presently, there is a movement back to Reformed doctrine (mostly riding on the wings of John Piper). Choosing to reject ”seeker-friendly,” superficial models of Christianity, mosaic and emergent traditions are looking for spiritual depth. Many are returning back to Reformed theology. But for a generation that has questioned and created new roles for itself in the Christian world, I find their willingness to settle for Calvinistic views of God to be unsettling. Piper isn’t even apart of your generation. For a generation marked by creativity, that’s not very creative, is it? There are other choices.

Those Christians and secularists who reject Reformed doctrine are not rejecting a system. They are rejecting the view of God that system requires. Pastoral objections abound to Reformed theology because it’s not what theologians assert that is important. It’s what people take from it to interpret their world that determines the validity of any theological system. Pastors understand this and see the merit of it.

I’d rather not have an answer to some questions than find encouragement in a wrong one.

Come On, Just How Bad Is Calvinism?, Part 2

So, from my first post, it’s easy to see that Reformed theology doesn’t have everything wrapped up any more than other doctrinal systems. Yet as Chris said in his comment, there seems to be a feeling that Reformists base their conclusions on “scripture alone” and they have more scriptural support than any other group. After all, they are the majority tradition, right?

Could this be because they keep telling you that’s the case? Let’s cover some philosophical and historical ground here…

Actually, Reformed theology leans very heavily on classical (Greek) philosophical foundations that have little to do with the Bible. These philosophical foundations describe the character of God in a particular way. Philosophers and theologians have always struggled to define appropriate attributes for God to possess. Xenophanes despised the Greek gods’ inappropriate behavior and proposed a criterion of “decency”: traits that he believed deity should possess.  God should never behave as human do.

Plato’s version of God is perfect, needing nothing, and is sufficient in every way unto itself.  God maintains his state of perfection by experiencing no “joy or sorrow” – nor does he love since he needs no relationships.  Because of God’s perfection, he “mingles not with man.”  Plato also takes a deterministic slant to the cosmic order stating that all human affairs are predetermined, yet how this happens is a divine mystery (I heard that before).  Even God is subject to fate – “Not even God can fight against necessity.” Aristotle believed there must be an “unmoved mover” who is the first cause of all motion in the universe.  In order to remain unmoved and independent of all forces, God must also remain completely separate from the world. 

Augustine, the father of Latin theology, emphasized Hellenistic traits of God as well.  He maintained the traditional divine attributes the Greek philosophers did: “Whatever is changeable is not the most high God…that is truly real which remains immutable.”  Therefore, neither God’s knowledge nor his will ever changes.  Along with these beliefs, Augustine adopted the concept of foreordination or predestination – humans cannot thwart God’s will for “the will of the omnipotent is always undefeated.”  Scriptures showing God changing his mind were written for “babes” and do not reflect God’s true nature.  Augustine also believed that natural events on earth were designed by God at the beginning of time and hidden within the natural order of life (sound familiar?).  With Augustine’s endorsement of these philosophical attributes, the transcendent, unknowable and inaccessible nature of God became permanently etched into Western theology. 

Now, stick with me here – I’m going somewhere. When the Reformers attempted to develop a new system of theology apart from Catholicism, they merely fell back on the same familiar philosophical assumptions Augustine had found so useful.  This also included philosophical attributes of God like immutability and simplicity.  So, while making slight changes, the Reformers only reinforced the inherited view of God’s unavailability.

Calvin was even more structured in his understanding of God’s nature and interaction with creation.  He also characterizes God as immutable, simple, impassible and self-existent.  Echoing Luther’s view of sovereignty, Calvin stated that God does not will something because it is good; rather, an event in life is good simply because God willed its occurrence.  The mysteries of God’s will should remain a mystery: “Let us then willingly leave to God the knowledge of himself.”

Understandably, Calvin’s opponents had trouble reconciling his belief that “nothing takes place by chance” with the idea of God as a loving father.  But Calvin helps us understand his line of reasoning: the perils and tragedies of life’s existence at that time would have been intolerable if all events in life happened as a result of arbitrary chance.  Submitting to God, the Christian could at least believe that the miseries of life were intended for his own good. So, Calvin’s view of God was a product of his environment, not ours.

Okay, what does all that mean? It means that though Reformed theology is well developed (and that promotes security), it sacrifices the practical elements of God’s goodness. Rather than accepting God because he is good, we are told to accept God’s goodness simply because He wills it. Though Reformists say that they are the majority tradition, historically the majority of people have rejected at least part of their concept of God.

Here are a few quotes from across the spectrum to illustrate. Commoners during the Reformation turned to folk magic to bridge the gap between themselves and a remote view of God. In 1594, Lutheran inspectors in Germany reported that “the use of spells is so widespread among the people here that not a man or woman begins…or refrains from doing anything…without employing some particular blessing, incantation, spell, or other such heathenish means…” They weren’t exactly “leaning on the everlasting arms,” were they? Enlightenment philosophers wholly rejected the same view of God as well. Since God had already distanced himself from humanity, the rationalists merely pushed him further out of the frame into a state of inactivity. They finished the job classical theism had started centuries before. Voltaire questioned the character of a deterministic God and his foreordination of a disastrous earthquake in Lisbon in 1775. The philosophes’ underlying motivation became liberating the Western mindset from what Voltaire called a “religion that believes in a cruel God.”  

In the 1840s, Andrew Jackson Davis, prior to his conversion to Spiritualism, struggled with his Christian upbringing.  A member of the Presbyterian church, he rejected the “God clothed in Calvinist attributes, also in His eternal decrees of election and reprobation and also in many other points of faith ascribing unamiable qualities to the Deity.”  Protestant Liberalism was also a reaction to this view of God. Lyman Abbot, looking back upon his Puritan upbringing, loathed the view of God as a “kind of awful omnipotent police justice” and himself as “a scared culprit who knows he is liable to punishment but does not clearly know why.”  In the twentieth century, Carl Jung, the son of a Reformed pastor, had experienced the demoralizing aspects of Western Christianity.  He wrote, “I am aware of my unconventional way of thinking and understand that it gives the impression that I am not a Christian.  But I regard myself as a Christian…but I am at the same time convinced that…the present situation seems to me to be intolerable; therefore I think that a fundamental further development of Christianity is absolutely necessary.”

Now, we can pretend all these people are stupid and delusional and rebellious…or we can really look at what they are saying. People from Christian, occult, and secular traditions are all hinting at the same thing: the Reformed view of God is unacceptable. Though they disagreed on basically everything else, they certainly agreed on that! Maybe a theological system that implicitly undermines the character of God isn’t the best way to go.

Next, practical implications for everyday Christians.

Come On, Just How Bad Is Calvinism?, Part 1

Reformed systematic theology is a beautiful thing: clear, congruent, and tidy. It makes theologians drool all over themselves. Yet, systematization rarely reflects the full intentions of God or his creation. I want to point out a few inconsistencies in scriptural application among Reformed doctrine. The basics of Reformed doctrine are found in five points (TULIP): Total depravity, Unconditional election, Limited atonement, Irresistible grace, and Perseverance of the saints. Summarized, it looks this way: humanity, because of the fall, is utterly incapable of saving itself. God in his sovereign will elects certain individuals and God gives faith to these individuals for repentance. Christ’s atonement redeems only the elect and secures them for salvation. The grace that God extends to the elect is irresistible. Those saints who are elected by God for salvation are kept by this grace and endure until the end. If you missed it, read the background for these posts here.

Does scripture support this approach to God and humanity? I don’t really think it does, at least not any more than any other doctrinal approach. Rarely does it tie up all loose ends in the Bible, contrary to Reformed opinions. The loose ends are found in what scriptures implicitly assume rather than in some black and white approach to scripture. Take the creation account for example: the origins of Calvinistic depravity. If total depravity is one of the consequences of Original Sin, we would surely expect to find some mention of it in the Genesis account. Yet, we find none. There are other curses listed: physical death (Gen. 3:19), “thorns and thistles” to make farming difficult (v.18), and pain in childbearing (v.16). These curses are trivial (sorry ladies) compared to what would be the most destructive curse of all: loss of ability to respond to God. Also, though there was initial innocence in Adam and Eve, that does not denote moral perfection – something to be lost in the fall. Similarly, God said the all he created was “good”, not perfect.

Also, passages describing sin “from the womb” are found in prophetic passages and the Psalms. As I’ve discussed elsewhere, passages like Psalm 58:3 and Isaiah 48:8 use exaggeration as a literary tool to promote repentance and reflection, not for systematically exploring the Western theological notions of human depravity. Sorry Augustine, God was not writing for your benefit when he inspired the book of Isaiah. He inspired the words of Isaiah for the Israelites who heard them. The understanding of biblical literary techniques like those employed in the prophets didn’t arrive on the Western theological scene until the early 1800s, so it’s rather difficult to assume that Calvin and company had that interpretive method available to them. And doctrinal bias keeps hyper-Reformists from acknowledging this today. In the NT, Ephesians 2:1 can be understood only in light of the OT understanding that those who are “dead in their sins” simple means people who will certainly die. Check out Exodus 12:33 and 2 Samuel 19:28. The meaning is that they were as good as dead. If the original context makes sense, why divorce it for doctrinal purposes?

So, what about that whole “election” thing? Confusing huh? Yep. God certainly “elected” Israel in Deuteronomy 7 and He did choose Jacob over Esau (Romans 9:11-13). Yet, to apply particular historical moments of election in these texts to a universal plan for individual salvation is to read into it. God showed us how he dealt with Israel in order to reveal the extent to which he would go to offer salvation to everyone. This is called corporate election. God “elects” – desires, chooses and hopes for – all humanity’s salvation. Everyone that wants to can get in. But like the parable of the feast, just because you invite someone doesn’t mean they will accept the invitation.

Reformists often butcher other passages like Jesus’s prayer not for the world, “but for those you [the Father] have given me, for they are yours” (John 17:9). The context of that prayer was for the strengthening of the disciples for the days ahead, not for cosmic salvific purpose. Some disciples passed the test while others, like Peter, failed. Yet Jesus took the time to restore Peter around a camp fire – just like the one around which Peter had denied him days before. Paul’s verses about God “choosing us in him before the creation of the world” and “predestining us to be adopted as his sons” (Eph. 1:4,5) certainly can apply to corporate election. Plus other verses like John 3:16, 2 Peter 3:9, and even OT scriptures like Ezekiel 18:23 speak of God’s desire for universal election. That doesn’t mean everyone will choose God, but he did make it a possibility.

Secret counsel verses like the famous Deuteronomy 29:29 certainly warn that the mystery of election is not fully available to humans and that speculation should be kept to a minimum. So, who’s speculating the most about election? I think it’s the Calvinists. This scripture, used for their own purposes sharply rebukes the speculation for which they use it. It’s kind of like an obsessed end times date setter quoting Jesus’s passage that “no one knows the day but the Father…” Most Calvinists take their doctrinal positions too seriously to see the irony of their misuse. More importantly, that scripture was given in a historical setting to a specific group of people. To yank it out and use it as proof of divine mysteries is to deny its original context.

Finally, can people fall away from God? Jacob Arminius (for who Arminian theology is named) didn’t elaborate on it too much. He said it was out for debate. Unfortunately, he died before exploring the topic more fully. Obviously free-will doesn’t end after you accept Christ. So I suppose you can fall away…but I suspect you have to really, really work at it. Love is only love when it’s freely given, not coerced or “tricked” by some cosmic form of compatibilism.

Lot of loose ends here for Calvinists. Of course, they have nice, neat answers for all of these questions. But honestly that scares me more than comforts me. All theology is speculative – including Calvinism. Why adopt one inconclusive theological viewpoint when you can adopt another inconclusive one that at least allows God’s loving character to shine through?

So there you are. Next post, philosophical and historical issues.

Come On, Just how Bad is Calvinism?, Introduction

I received a great comment from from a guy named Chris here. I asked him if he would like for me to respond publicly or privately to his questions/doubts about Reformed doctrine. He said he would like to see them in a public format. So, for the next three posts I will convey some problems I have with Calvinism and what impact I feel such an approach to scripture has upon believers. I’ll divide it up into three sections: scriptural, philosophical, and practical, respectively.

I will say up front that I know plenty of Calvinists who are really great Christians that deeply love the Lord. I also admire their hunger for the Word and precision in scriptural debate. I have yet to fully comprehend just how they integrate their beliefs into an understanding of God that appropriately reflects God’s nature. Maybe I am intellectually or spiritually unable to grasp Reformed concepts. I have had some Reformists who have hinted at such. If that’s the case, then please overlook my short-sightedness.

Also, I will approach this mainly as a pastoral endeavor. If something makes perfect theological sense yet fails to meet the basic needs of everyday Christians, then I’m going to question it’s practical validity. As such, I will not cover every scripture that Reformists generally use for proof texting their position. And, as fair warning, if you are reading this post and decide to give me every scripture to back the Calvinist position in the comment section, I’m not going to answer them all…but you can sure bet I’ll make fun of you for ignoring my opening remarks here. Calvinists have that much in common with the Latter Day Saints – they certainly have all their answers together. I, admittedly, do not. If you want me to expound upon a particular point I’ll be happy to oblige.

As a pastor, though I am concerned with correct theological method, I am much more interested in how that theology helps the average Christian connect to God. I will say this up front: I believe Reformed interpretations of scripture and the nature of God have inhibited that spiritual connection throughout much of Western history.

Next post, scriptural issues…

Does Reformed Theology Restrict God More Than Process Theology?

I was talking about this with a friend the other day and am looking for some constructive input into the topic. I know I’ve got some serious thinkers that read this blog so I was hoping for some feedback.

Process theology is a relatively new phenomenon that, for most evangelicals, places God in a place of dependence upon nature – so much so that God is incapable of separating himself from the natural order. Of course, this presents a diminished view of God’s power and authorty – something quite unacceptable to conservative forms of Christianity. On the other hand, Reformed theology adherents usually are rather proud of the fact that in their system God remains sovereign – fully untouched by the human condition – while also providing a solution to the issues of sin and death. But it’s their view of atonement that has raised some new questions for me.

Reformed theologians often chide Process theologians for seeing God as dependent upon creation. But isn’t that what Reformists do with the penal-substitution theory? Hear me out while I explain this…and then let the hate mail pour in.

In the penal-substitution model, the sacrifice of Jesus appeases the wrath God by paying the penalty for sin. God effectively remedies sin for all humanity by releasing the punishment for that sin on Jesus alone. So, Jesus’s death though for humanity is ultimately for God – and this in turn frees humanity from their plight. According the that model, sin is the controlling factor in God’s efforts to rescue mankind. But God is bound by the effects of sin, something outside of himself caused by the actions of man. God chooses to honor that state of affairs and, if penal-substitution is the chosen model, allows sin to dictate his respose to our present world order. Supralapsarians (if they aren’t embarrassed of their belief that God ordained sin) could care less about this point, but for all other Reformists who believe God did not ordain humanity’s fall, this should be addressed. Though Process theology makes God dependent upon the world through panentheism, penal-substitution makes God involuntarily dependent on the death of Jesus in order to save humanity. In other words, sin puts God in a corner. At the cross, sin is sovereign, not God.

In the ransom model, God has an opponent: Satan – a force to strive against. And in the moral theory the cross displays the forgiveness of God outside of any payment for sin. But in the penal-substitution model, God is pitted against himself and bound by the neccessity of sin’s grasp over his own sovereignty. Sin is placed above God. God is sovereign over everything…but that. Looking at the sovereignty issues surrounding the cross, it seems that moral theory actually affirms God’s sovereignty more by allowing God to forgive sin however he chooses. But the penal-substitution theory severely limits God’s response to the human condition as if sin forces God to punish Jesus since God requires someone to pay for the infraction. It’s as if God created the rules, but then the rules forced him to punish Jesus. Put this way, God’s sovereignty is diminished within the universal causality that God himself ordained. It reminds me of the quote by Plato, “Not even God can fight against necessity.”

Okay – all of this is thinking out loud. And I would enjoy some feedback on this idea. But don’t blast me if you don’t know what, for example, Process theology is. Well thought out responses please. I’m sure this idea been discussed somewhere but it’s something I haven’t seen recently. Any thoughts?

Come on, Just How Bad Is Calvinism?, Part III

Let’s turn to the pastoral implications of Reformed theology. At the beginning, even Calvin underestimated just how many people would react strongly against his theology. His first draft of the Institutes barely developed a full understanding of predestination. The practical implications of his views came under such severe attack that by his third revision, his defense of those topics comprised the majority of the Insititutes. And as we’ve seen, plenty of people in history have rejected that view of God. Interestingly, some of the most important Reformed theologians have found that the only way to adopt predestination is to believe that God predestines everyone for salvation except a few reprobates – basically, what amounts to universalism. So what makes Reformed theologians so uneasy? The practical/pastoral implications of their theological system.

The pastoral obstacles in Calvinism are staggering. Though the Reformed belief system in a theological setting seems somewhat reasonable, in a popular/church setting, it quickly gets misconstrued and misinterpreted. Calvinists usually roll their eyes at those who misinterpret Reformed doctrine, but who’s to blame for this? The average Christian attempting to make sense of life’s tragedies or Reformists who assume that most people are simply unable to understand the mysteries of God? As a pastor, I have serious problems with that. To dismiss the average Christians concern over God’s nature is to dimiss someone made in the image of God. Any system that refuses to address life’s questions in that way that most accurately meets the needs of average Christians is not practical. It’s theoretical – useless to a caring pastor. Calvinism’s inability to translate into a feasable model for practical Christianity is its main drawback.

In a popular setting, Reformed answers to tragedy and misfortune sound terribly inhumane. Secularists constantly bring this up with good reason. Why would anyone choose to believe that God would ordain miscarriages to allow a time of spiritual reflection for a mother?  The implications are there. Though I personally don’t know why miscarraiges happen, my lack of an answer would never compel me to blindly adopt an explanation that assaults the character of God or crushes the spirit of another human, no matter how neat and tidy it may seem.  Christians lose the respect of others when we say things like the accidental death of a two year old can do more for Jesus than that child’s life could have. We see more popularized versions of this idea in congregational prayers that end all requests with “if it be thy will” or in church marqee signs that say: “Drive Carefully. Cars aren’t the only things recalled by their Maker.”

More importantly, Reformed solutions to tragedy rarely help relieve and emotional suffering. Make no mistake – people who receive answers like, “God is in control of everything” and “This is all part of God’s plan” continue to have questions. They just put those questions on hold until one day “all things” will be revealed. Sorry people, though this sounds spiritually valid, it makes absolutely no sense. Similarly, popular notions of Calvinistic thinking affect the efficacy of prayer. Prayer becomes merely a spiritual discipline with little bearing on life circumstances.

If we take Calvinistic theology to its logical consequences on a practical level, we end up with questions like: why do you protect your children from harm? Or, why do you lock your doors at night? If all events are ordained, you would think people would do better to assist the hand of God in such matters. I actually had someone tell me that exposing children to hazzardous consequences actually helps them learn proper boundaries. That’s fine to believe that but if you start on that slippery slope, which hazzards are appropriate: a fall down the stairs, a hot stove, or drowning in a swimming pool? Are pain and heartache God’s choice means of correction for adults as well? Once again, Calvinists are rolling their eyes at me. They would claim such objections to Reformed theology take the theological system beyond its intent. Exactly. If that’s the case, then theology has no practical value and Calvinism is something trivial to tinker with – like a model airplane or a doll collection.

All that to say this. The popular lesson derived by common Christians from Reformed theology is this: God doesn’t care and I am powerless to affect my circumstances for the better in any way. Calvinism breeds passive resignation in life. Most people walk away thinking “why try?”

Also, as a “charismatic” Christian, Reformed theology has always carried cessationist tendencies. The primacy of the Word is protected against prophetic inspiration. I simply cannot under any circumstances agree to that. People desperately need power to confront the obstacles they face in life. I’m not sure how Reformed “charismatics” can justify their adherence to a doctrine that flatly disputes their own spiritual experiences.

Presently, there is a movement back to Reformed doctrine (mostly riding on the wings of John Piper). Choosing to reject ”seeker-friendly,” superficial models of Christianity, mosaic and emergent traditions are looking for spiritual depth. Many are returning back to Reformed theology. But for a generation that has questioned and created new roles for itself in the Christian world, I find their willingness to settle for Calvinistic views of God to be unsettling. Piper isn’t even apart of your generation. For a generation marked by creativity, that’s not very creative, is it? There are other choices.

Those Christians and secularists who reject Reformed doctrine are not rejecting a system. They are rejecting the view of God that system requires. Pastoral objections abound to Reformed theology because it’s not what theologians assert that is important. It’s what people take from it to interpret their world that determines the validity of any theological system. Pastors understand this and see the merit of it.

I’d rather not have an answer to some questions than find encouragement in a wrong one.