The Heretic Next Door

Back in the first centuries of the Christian movement, a priest from Africa named Arius stirred up some trouble. Though Arius spent the majority of his days as a religious upstart at Alexandria, he was trained at Antioch. That’s an important bit of info. There were two main “schools” of thought in Christianity then: Antioch and Alexandria. Alexandria was known for interpreting the Bible in an allegorical fashion. Much of the Alexandrian writings are first year church history for seminary students. Antiochan giants like Theodoret of Cyrus, Theodore of Mopsuestia, and Diodore of Tarsus held to a strict literal interpretation of biblical passages. These are really important theologians who receive very little attention nowadays.

Arius began devoting his sermons to investigating the question: “Was Jesus really God or was he just a human?”Arius had trouble believing God and Jesus existed together prior to the incarnation. This really isn’t that surprising. Antiochian theology focused on the “humanness” of Jesus – it was only a slight misstep that would lead Arius toward a form of adoptionism. So, for roughly the next three centuries, Alexandrian-heavy councils dragged Arius and company through the mud in their writings using nasty words like “heretic.” And for most Christians, that’s all we know about him. Was Arius wrong? Sure. Jesus is God. But there’s more to the story.

People rarely ask why Arius struggled with the divinity of Jesus. His reasoning is not much different from many struggling Christians today. Most of us were taught growing up that God the Father was a sovereign despot concerned with protecting his image of magisterial omnipotence. Liberal Protestant preacher Lyman Abbot put it this way: God is a “kind of awful omnipotent police justice” and each of us is a “scared culprit who knows he is liable to punishment but does not clearly know why.”  And that keeps many Christians in line. Afraid of God…but in line.

There’s only one problem. Jesus looks very different than that…and in John 14, Jesus had the gall to say he was just like the Father. And that’s what bugged Arius so long ago. He had been taught that God was unfeeling (impassible) and Jesus seemed so different. And because God did not seem to possess the qualities associated with Jesus, Arius assumed they weren’t the same at all. He was protecting the Father’s impassibility over against the “human” suffering in Jesus. If God did not feel our pain, how could he become one of us? Arius’ answer was simple: he didn’t. Arius’ responded when asked if Jesus and God are the same: “No! I would never insult the majesty of God that way!” This thought pattern also affects how many view the cross today: good Jesus protecting us from bad God.

There’s a good lesson here. People’s actions make it in the textbook. But their intentions rarely do. And what’s important to note here is that a struggling priest was attempting to think outside the box when reconciling his ministerial training with what he actually read in the Bible. He’d been taught that God was a “police justice” and wasn’t sure what to do with the compassionate Jesus he read about in the gospels. No one else had a good answer either so he courageously took a stab at it and was branded a heretic for the ages. But really, he was just a man attempting to understand God a little better. Maybe we shouldn’t call him the heretic for the ages. How about the heretic next door?

We should be careful when reading our history books. While it’s important to oppose false doctrine, we need to be careful not to disdain the struggles, fears, and mistakes of people in the process. Arius was doing the best he could. May we have grace to do the same.

Heretics, Cults, and Crazy People: What’s All the Fuss?

As a follow up to the Interview with a Wiccan post, I thought I’d explain a little about cults, the occult, and alternative religions. I find these to be some of the most confusing topics about religion. Hopefully, I can clear up some misconceptions with this post.

Sects/cults become credible over time as new members are added and others begin to accept their existence. As sects turn into more accepted denominations, they often breed spiritual complacency among their members who begin to desire to return to the “good old days” when the movement was smaller and more radical.  In turn, this produces more sect formation by dissatisfied members. These “renewal movements” only  become independent sects when the existing church rejects their overtures for spiritual renewal. They merely want to renew the spiritual life of the church. If they are accepted, we call them “revivals” and talk about how great they are. Pejorative labels such as “cult” are given by the mainstream body after rejecting the movement’s overtures for change. Often times, sects require strict adherence to beliefs and high levels of commitment – essentially an  ”all or nothing” approach. Conversely, sectarians believe that the stress of asceticism is rewarded with spiritual power – something the group that rejected them did not possess.

And that’s when all the heresy talk starts. Our understanding of heresy now (which is applied to all types of religious “infractions”) is not the same as the early church. Initially, it only dealt with foundational truths of the Christian faith – namely the divinity of Jesus. In the fifth and sixth centuries, it became associated with other aspects of Christianity - for example Origen’s musings about universalism. But honestly the modern term most commonly derives its nastiness from the writers of church history. Hopefully everyone knows by now that only the “winners” in history write the books. And the same is true of church history. Cult critics initially only disapproved of a group’s method of worship, not the doctrines themselves. But over time, as accusations are repeated in church histories, the doctrine was often deemed heretical as well. For example, the Montanists (initially part of the church) were a rigorous and devout group of Christians – orthodox in their foundational beliefs. However, by choosing to self-appoint church leaders and hold a place for women in leadership, they came under ecclesiastical fire. Along with that came the critic’s rejection of the Montanist’s use of spiritual gifts. It’s not that the gifts were wrong – but that women were practicing them. Eusebius quotes Apollonius: “Does a prophet paint his eyelids?” The issue was not with prophecy but rather who was prophesying: someone the church had not sanctioned. Throughout church history, heresy had little to do with doctrine and much to do with issues of recognized authority.

As such, cults aren’t usually heretics in the authentic sense of the word. What cults oftentimes are is heterodox. Now that doesn’t mean “wrong.” It means outside of mainstream acceptance. Any evangelical historian worth their salt will tell you that “orthodox” simply means the “majority opinion” – it doesn’t necessarily mean that the majority opinion is “correct,” though many times it does. So, many of the “orthodox” opinions we hold today were at one time heterodox, until enough people accepted them. To step away from religion for a minute, we all hold gravity to be an “orthodox” part of science. But Newton developed the “heterodox” idea of gravity from his occult beliefs in Neoplatonism, and alchemy. That may surprise you. But that’s a perfect example of something “heterodox” evolving into an accepted mainstream and orthodox belief. If the origins of gravity embarrass you, then you’re missing the point. All things are heterodox at their inception - including religious belief systems.

So, what should you glean from all of this? First, stop throwing around the term “heresy” for every little religious belief that doesn’t match your preconceived ideas. Secondly, no matter what mainstream religious group you belong to, you can thank your original “cult” leaders for being persistent in the face of opposition from the mainstrean religion of the time. What people called “crazy” then, we call “normal” now. And, third, be kind to the people “beneath” you on the religious food chain – they will be where you are within a couple of centuries…

Sometimes I Feel Bad for Arius…

Back in the first centuries of the Christian movement, a priest from Africa named Arius stirred up some trouble. Though Arius spent the majority of his days as a religious upstart at Alexandria, he was trained at Antioch. That’s an important bit of info. There were two main “schools” of thought in Christianity then: Antioch and Alexandria. Alexandria was known for interpreting the Bible in an allegorical fashion. Much of the Alexandrian writings are first year church history for seminary students. Antiochan giants like Theodoret of Cyrus, Theodore of Mopsuestia, and Diodore of Tarsus held to a strict literal interpretation of biblical passages. These are really important theologians who receive very little attention nowadays. Yet, if you haven’t spent some time with these fellas, you’re gonna have a pretty simplistic view of early church history. Then again, you could just read Bruce Shelley.

Arius began devoting his sermons to investigating the question: “Was Jesus really God or was he just a human?”Arius had trouble believing God and Jesus existed together prior to the incarnation. This really isn’t that surprising. Antiochian theology focused on the “humanness” of Jesus – it was only a slight misstep that would lead Arius toward a form of adoptionism. So, for roughly the next three centuries, Alexandrian-heavy councils dragged Arius and company through the mud in their writings using nasty words like “heretic.” And for most Christians, that’s all we know about him. Was Arius wrong? Sure. Jesus is God. But there’s more to the story.

People rarely ask why Arius struggled with the divinity of Jesus. His reasoning is not much different from many struggling Christians today. Most of us were taught growing up that God the Father was a sovereign despot concerned with protecting his image of magisterial omnipotence. Liberal Protestant preacher Lyman Abbot put it this way: God is a “kind of awful omnipotent police justice” and each of us is a “scared culprit who knows he is liable to punishment but does not clearly know why.”  And that keeps many Christians in line. Afraid of God…but in line.

There’s only one problem. Jesus looks very different than that…and in John 14, Jesus had the gall to say he was just like the Father. And that’s what bugged Arius so long ago. He had been taught that God was unfeeling (impassible) and Jesus seemed so different. And because God did not seem to possess the qualities associated with Jesus, Arius assumed they weren’t the same at all. He was protecting the Father’s impassibility over against the “human” suffering in Jesus. If God did not feel our pain, how could he become one of us? Arius’ answer was simple: he didn’t. Arius’ responded when asked if Jesus and God are the same: “No! I would never insult the majesty of God that way!” This thought pattern also affects how many view the cross today: good Jesus protecting us from bad God.

There’s a good lesson here. People’s actions make it in the textbook. But their intentions rarely do. And what’s important to note here is that a struggling priest was attempting to think outside the box when reconciling his ministerial training with what he actually read in the Bible. He’d been taught that God was a “police justice” and wasn’t sure what to do with the compassionate Jesus he read about in the gospels. No one else had a good answer either so he courageously took a stab at it and was branded a heretic for the ages. But really, he was just a man attempting to understand God a little better. We should be careful when reading our history books. While it’s important to oppose false doctrine, we need to be careful not to disdain the struggles, fears, and mistakes of people in the process. Arius was doing the best he could. May we have grace to do the same.

Confessions of an Open Theist, Part 4: Challies’ Challenge

For this final post, I want to interact with Tim Challies’ comments on open theism here. As I said back in the introductory post, my goal is not to “prove” Tim wrong. But I do want to point out some common assumptions and conclusions about open theism that cause much misunderstanding. Tim states that freedom “trumps” omniscience and uses a definition that describes open theism as “sub-Christian.” I think terms like these are overly-aggressive and I get the feeling that this article has no intention of displaying “both sides” of the debate. Yet, those of the Reformed persuasion like Tim are quick to point out how their own theology is rarely given fair representation or explained fully. Let me try to bring some balance to the descriptions of open theism in Tim’s article.

1. In open theism, God’s greatest attribute is love and it overshadows his other attributes. 

Open theists don’t believe God’s greatest attribute is love. They believe God is love. All other attributes flow from his love and seek to sustain and support the nature of God as a relational being. Humans make this mistake often in describing love as an attribute - to us, attributes sound like an object we can hold in our hand…apples, for example. We can hold several attributes at a time but when “forced” to choose one, we must let another one go. Our arms are not big enough to hold them all. If love is merely an attribute (as Tim suggests), we conclude that God chooses love over/against other attributes. And that causes us to assume that God has to let, say, “judgment” fall to the side…or in this case “omniscience” or “sovereignty” to embrace love. We do the same with the cross – we act like God “shelved” mercy for a little while so he could pour out wrath. But God’s arms can hold them all. They are not mutually exclusive and therefore, to champion God’s nature of love is not calling for sovereignty’s defeat. If this distinction is not made, then we feel we must defend one aspect of God’s character over another. Comments about a loving God being a “pansy” come from this shallow understanding of God’s attributes. And that is truly the definition of anthropomorphic.

3. In open theism, God is unable to see what depends on the choices of free will agents…

I don’t think this is accurate for open theism either. God could see or could deduce from probability what outcomes exist in the future.  He chooses not to do so. Why? Because he voluntarily leverages that ability for the sake of love and freedom. Are there other scenarios that might allow for full disclosure of the future? I imagine so. But in open theism, power is leveraged to express love. God is not “bound” by cosmic laws that forbid him to see. That would make him dependent on creation – something no open theist would ever say. Rather, it’s a voluntary gesture of his goodness and co-habitation with his creation that makes free will fully authentic.

5. In open theism, God learns.

This is a stretch. It conjures up images in my mind of some sort of Hegelian Weltgiest, bobbing from side to side in dialectical fashion, bumbling through time. Silliness. God is fully aware of the range of decisions that are available in each scenario. His choice to allow free will to exist and allow our decisions to impact his relational goals for creation is not weakness. It’s a sign of strength. No one but God could allow the complexity of life to remain intact and still bring about his intentions within it. Just because we can’t doesn’t mean that God can’t.

6. In open theism, God is reacting.

Once again, the inference is that this is some sign of divine weakness. Reactive is not the right word. Responding is. God responds to our decisions after he initiates relationship. In fact, there would be no chance for relational involvement with him unless he first moved in a proactive fashion. From there, in the midst of established relationship, God invites our involvement in the world. That’s not weakness. It’s grace. As his beloved, our involvement affirms our importance to the God of the universe. Don’t think this is a good idea? Ask any married person what they think of a spouse who refuses to involve them in shared life. To expect the relationship, but provide nothing with which to nurture that relationship, is to sabotage the whole affair.

7. and 8. In open theism, God makes mistakes…God can and does make errors in judgment which later require re-evaluation…When God realizes He has made an error in judgment or that things did not unfold as He supposed, He can change His mind. 

I take issue with anyone who speaks of God so irreverently for the sake of vilifying a theological position. Tim does this to create outrage in the reader anticipating that they well reject open theism. God does not make mistakes or errors, get caught in his stupidity, and “re-evaluate” where he went wrong. What’s the missing ingredient in Tim’s recipe? Hope. God has hope that even in the most dire of circumstances, humanity will choose “life” over “death.” God bets against the odds in every scenario where the least sliver of optimism still remains. With God having full knowledge of one’s heart, he is not the least bit “surprised” or duped by the decisions of humans to serve their own interests. But part of love is to “keep no record of wrong.” Therefore, God will forever choose to believe the best of those he loves. Openness to the failures of others, does not require the ignorance of the posibility that good will still be done in the end. Bible passages that explain God’s grief are not describing a grief of ignorance, but the grief of a broken heart that sees us make wrong choices. That’s like saying a father who expresses grief over a child who becomes a drug addict had no idea that drugs existed. The grief is for the child, not over shock at the existence of drugs. Tim makes this same mistake when he quotes Boyd and describes God as a ”God who sorrows over decisions He has made as He is genuinely saddened by the results of His poor decision.” God is not grieving over his own stupidity. He’s grieving over “the destruction of his own creation” – exactly as Boyd says.

After dealing with his main concerns, Tim gives us his summary thoughts. My responses follow each point:

“Needless to say, I find this doctrine wholly incompatible with our knowledge of God as presented in His Word.”

See part 1. I think this one is still up for debate.

 “While open theism contradicts the understanding of God in every Judeo-Christian tradition, it is most completely at-odds with the Reformed understanding, which teaches the highest view of God’s foreknowledge and sovereignty.” 

Trust me - from a church history guy, this isn’t the case. Every century of church history has included well-known ministers, philosophers, and theologians that have held an “open view.” Open theists have compiled lists of adherents for you to review in their books and on their websites. At-odds with the Reformed understanding? Absolutely. But the belief that Reformed theology takes the “highest” view of foreknowledge and sovereignty is also open to debate. Many would say that open theism’s view of sovereignty is stronger and more informed (see posts 2 and 3).

“ This doctrine undermines our confidence in God and erodes our trust in His promises that He always has our best interests in mind. It is a dangerous, pernicious doctrine.”

Ahhh, Tim. Such hostility. Others feel differently. Though Tim encourages you to read Bruce Ware, an opponent of the open view, my studies have taught me that to understand a particular view of any sort, it’s best to go to the sources themselves. Within open theists’ own words, you can hear their struggle to overcome the persecution of peers and see their belief that they are doing something good for Christianity. I’ve seen similar resolve in the writings of Luther, Tertullian, Bernard of Clairvaux, Calvin, Wesley, Bonhoeffer, Schaeffer, and others. Maybe we’ll be saying the same thing about open theists one say.

Confessions of an Open Theist, Part 2: Pastoral and Practical Implications

To me, the pastoral/practical aspects of open theism are some of its strongest. There is something liberating about the idea that God is affected and responds to his children. I see three main areas where open theism is beneficial for practical Christianity: 1) theodicy, 2) practical living, and 3) prayer.

Open theism deals well with the issue of theodicy: God and the reality of evil in the world. Part of open theism’s strength is in its willingness to refrain from posturing and doing theological “publicity.” Let me explain. Most people when confronted with tragic loss are quickly trapped by a particular style of reasoning that places God off limits to criticism. Traditional Reformed theology not only says that God knew about the tragedy in your life, but that he foreordained it for some purpose relatively indiscernible to the average Christian. Then, they are told that going through hardship and suffering often serves a greater good. Our role is to understand that “God gives and God takes away.” This shields God from direct or indirect accusations of malevolence. The truth is that counsel like that is some of the most degrading and insensitive rhetoric to ever be spoken to Christians desperately trying to make sense of life. It trivializes their pain and merely makes them push their anger at God into the distance to be dealt with some other time (and often in an unhealthy way). Classical Arminians who accept libertarian free will but still believe God has full disclosure of all future events  have a different question to answer: how could a loving God know about tragedy, have the ability to stop it, and still let it occur? Great question. Most will tell you that the answer has to do with infringing upon free will or the whole “greater good” thing again. But that really doesn’t help anyone that much either. And it certainly doesn’t deal with the duplicity such a view creates in the character of a God who sees evil but abstains from responding.

Open theism takes a different route. If the future is partially undetermined, then the tragedies of life are certainly not God’s will. They occur due to the complexities of nature and the intricacies of balancing millions of temporal scenarios with spiritual ones. And sometimes, things still happen that fall far outside of God’s design and will for humanity. Because if this, open theism allows Christians to say, “Sometimes, things happen in the complexity of creation that no one – including God – would ever desire for his children.”  In that scenario, no one has to hear about how their disease, misfortune, suffering, family calamity, or natural disaster has some silver lining. As for the question,  ”Why didn’t God get there in time?” the answer is “I don’t know.” But open theism, wisely not answering questions no one has answers for, quickly affirms that God is affected and deeply feels the pain of those who suffer. And if the slightest possibility within the complexities of life had created a way for God to intercede, he would have. So, though natural loss may happen, the closeness of the Comforter remains.  Why do we feel we need to assign greater good to personal suffering and tragedy? It’s merely a practical diversion to help us cope with loss. In essence, we need God to be in control of everything in order to add value to otherwise senseless and meaningless events in life. We gravitate towards understanding God’s sovereignty in a anthropomorphic way - a way to which we can relate. But that approach is more for us than it is for God. Open theism is more mature than that – it embraces the arbitrariness and complexity of life while withholding the blame from God. No other theological system deals with theodicy in this way. Those I’ve counselled are quick to release God of blame once the origin for that inclination – a view of God as prescient and omnicausal - is removed.

As for practical living, open theism affirms the way people actually live. Christianity is known for subjecting its adherents to heavy doses of fatalism. Those who are bold enough to recognize this throw up their hands and say, “Why even try? If God knows everything a sees fit to make life so difficult, why continue on?” Open theism allows the Christian to take initiative. With the ability to change a situation and affect God with our response, we are given the liberty to appropriately respond to God’s initial response to us in Jesus. There’s also the practical willingness to serve/prefer others in seeing God do the same thing in his Word (see part 1). With this, a fuller revelation of kenotic theology comes into view. Previously only assigned to Jesus’s ultimate revelation of kenosis, God limits himself to the temporality of creation of his own volition. What’s more, open theism helps tremendously with the whole “finding God’s will” circus show (which is notoriously self-confirming and arbitrary). If life is not already “mapped out” for us to figure out, then we have ”breathing room” where decision making is concerned. That creates a deeper level of grace to the Christian walk: we don’t have to be afraid of making “mistakes” when trying to follow the Lord. If we make the wrong decision, God understands and moves us toward his desire for us while taking those “mistakes” into account. To me, this represents a God who is not “freaked out” by our inability to hear his voice. His goals reach their fruition while also including our involvement. Other versions of classical theism seem to be less sovereign (in the true sense that word was intended) by restricting God’s ability, intelligence, and resourcefulness.

Probably the biggest area of importance for open theism is prayer. It affirms the efficacy of prayer more than any other Christian view. If God voluntarily operates within a temporal time frame and responds to our needs, prayer becomes significant and “real-time.” Prayer becomes essential to the Christian walk because it helps determine the future. It becomes something that can make a real difference rather than merely a spiritual exercise. Prayer also becomes outward focused since our prayers dramatically affect the future. Once again, if God has everything “mapped out,” then prayer is self-indulgent and inward focused. I find it hard to believe that God would create hope through prayer and then remove it’s efficacy by already knowing where those prayers will lead. The thought is mortifying and leaves those praying for healing, provision, salvation of loved ones, and the peace of our world lacking the confidence to come to God with their needs. An open future reinvigorates the possibility that God takes prayer seriously as something more than a “quiet time” devotional.  

People who are unnerved by the implications of open theism (I think) have yet to think this one point through: fiercely defending an understanding of God as “outside of time” does nothing to engender practical relationship God. Open theism does that.  The view of God responding to humanity gives an overall foundation of grace and reciprocity to practical Christian living. In a way very different than the stern, deterministic God most people see, open theism lets God be what he has always intended: a God willing to listen and meet your needs. The Jesus that was “moved with compassion” becomes seen in the workings of the Father as well. That willingness to respond opens up the reality of a God who has not already lived life for us (by knowing and determining the future), but one who enjoys living life in us by walking with us each step of the way.

Confessions of an Open Theist, Introduction

I am an open theist. I never meant for this to happen. It just did.

What is open theism, you say? Well, most opponents will tell you that it has to do with denying God’s omniscience where future events are concerned. But to me, that’s just a byproduct of the real issue: stripping Christianity of static attributes of God that would hinder a relational approach to him. God created humans to interact in a give and take relationship. It’s God’s constant love that allows his will to be accomplished in a cooperative style. For many classical theists, God’s power/control is definitive. For open theists, that power is leveraged for the sake of love: God’s central defining attribute.

My first encounter with open theism came in Robert Picirilli’s Grace, Faith and Free Will – an otherwise excellent book. He used vitriolic language like: “deformed, shallow, and careless ” to describe this newfangled heresy lingering in theological shadows converting the beguiled to “neo-Arminian” beliefs. I have since read words like those of Steve Farrar: “Open Theists are people who edit the Bible like it’s a Microsoft Word document.” Any supporting evidence to this claim in Farrar’s popular parenting book? Nope. Just his opinion, dangling out there in self-appointed authority.

Over the next four posts, I’d like to share how I came to embrace open theism. The first post will deal with the biblical text. The second with pastoral/practical reasons for adopting open theism. Thirdly, I’ll deal with changes in the landscape of science and how that affirms the open view. Finally, I’ll interact with Tim Challies’ article on open theism. I chose his for several reasons: 1) he is a noted blogger, 2) his criticisms of the open view are fairly common ones, 3) he assigns particular motives to the writings of open theists, and 4) Tim, though I’m sure he is a nice person, has built his internet presence on providing “discernment” for the curious. This means, of course, if a belief/worldview doesn’t conform to particular set of doctrinal guidelines, Tim’s gonna do you a favor and tell you it’s not good for you. To be sure, I’m not going to attack or debate Tim’s views – he’s welcome to believe whatever draws him closer to Jesus. I will merely use it as a reference when discussing my journey towards open theism.

Now, just a word about “heresy.” Open theism is not “heresy.” I’ve spent the better part of this decade studying the history of mentalities and anyone who uses the term “heresy” to describe open theism has not done their research. That’s also a quick way to get your comments “unapproved.” Open theism is, however, heterodox. Now, that doesn’t mean “wrong.” It means presently outside of full mainstream acceptance. Any evangelical historian worth their salt will tell you that “orthodox” simply means the “majority opinion” – it doesn’t necessarily mean that the majority opinion is “correct,” though it certainly can. So, many of the “orthodox” opinions we hold today were at one time heterodox, until enough people accepted them. No matter what mainstream religious group you belong to, you can thank your original leaders for being persistent in the face of opposition and charges of heresy from the mainstrean religion of the time. Otherwise, your denomination (or Christianity for that matter) would have been stamped out long ago in the name of “sound doctrine.” What people called “deformed, shallow, and careless ” then, we call “normal” now. The same is true with open theism. Questions of omniscience do not send anyone to hell. We are talking about the religion that took several hundred years to hash out Christ’s divine nature, for Pete’s sake!

This series of posts will not be a polemical treatise - they are autobiographical. You are certainly welcome to interact with them (in fact, I encourage discussion), but please understand that the spiritual journey of a brother in Christ resides within them. Heck, I may even change my mind one day. For the record, that’s okay. I also won’t be spending much time discussing philosophical issues (i.e. panentheism, compatibilism, etc.) though I am willing to address those issues in the comment section as necessary. I hope that this series will answer some questions for those who are curious. My goal is to share my journey and encourage you to take your own. Don’t take my word for it, read authors on both sides with an open (no pun intended) spirit…and then, you and the Holy Spirit can make a decision together.

Todd Bentley: A Case in Fundamental Attribution Error

For a while now, social psychology has been concerned with something called the attribution theory. It’s main emphasis is on the role of personal character over against environment. At the core of this theory is something called the fundamental attribution error (FAE). The FAE describes the tendency of people to attribute another’s mistakes or moral failures to a lack of personal character and integrity. In other words, FAE occurs when we overestimate the internal traits of a person and underestimate the environmental factors that lead someone to behave in a certain way. A more popular form of this theory is found in the idea that we judge others by their actions and ourselves by our intentions. The reason we do this is because we are aware of our own circumstances that make us behave in a way that is inappropriate. But rarely do we see the same external circumstance in judging the actions of others unless we really attempt to “walk in their shoes.” Unfortunately, that takes more effort than many people want to exert.

Why am I talking about this where fallen revivalist Todd Bentley is concerned? Because it’s a perfect case study. Granted, psychology is not known for its religious outlook on life. But, here, I think psychology can teach Christians something. The FAE occurs in practically every criticism of Bentley I see. He is lambasted for his lack of moral character and unwillingness to stand firm when temptation presents itself. All of these criticisms are overestimations  of Todd’s internal makeup. When we criticize him, we assume that these internal traits alone will keep him above moral failure. But the same critics underestimate external circumstances in Bentley’s demise. That’s not being very fair, is it?

The truth is somewhere in the middle. When criticizing Bentley, we commit the FAE the moment we refuse to acknowledge that other factors outside of Bentley himself contributed to his present predicament. This idea drives conservatives of every sort. William Bennett’s Book of Virtues should be all we need to live a moral life – or so we are taught. But that’s for people who don’t live in the real world. Other factors contribute to our well-being and our demise – including our spiritual life. That doesn’t negate the importance of strong moral resolve and personal integrity. It’s simply a recognition of the fact that oftentimes in life, when the rules of the game change, our behavior follows.

Though it’s a psychologcal term, the fundamental attribution error (at least for Christians) is an error of pride. Those who engage in it forget the basics of life. When Todd Bentley confessed his mistakes, those who dealt with the situation through the FAE only saw doctrinal error, moral depravity, or some type of “sin sickness” in Bentley’s soul. Bentley’s failure is a moral one – something internal. But a balanced and humble approach would realize that external factors like extreme public exposure, time away from family, lack of Christian support, and very small doses of “down time” also contributed to his woes. Those who commit the FAE will always villanize the person by saying, “I knew something was wrong with that guy.” Those who can step outside the trappings of the fundamental attribution error recognize that there’s more to people’s mistakes than original sin. They are more than happy to say, ”That could’ve been me if I was placed in a similar situation.”

I Guess Todd Bentley Proved Everyone Right…

Hold up there, champ.  Read this excellent take on Todd Bentley’s marital separation. Heck, I’ll just copy it over for you to save time: 

“For those of you who have been following the healing revival going on in Lakeland, you have, no doubt, heard that Todd Bentley and his wife are separating. If not, read this.

It was only a few hours after this announcement that I began to see several “I told you so” articles. Some who had been outspoken against the revival all along relished in the news as further proof of its illegitimacy are openly hoping this news puts the final nail in the coffin of the revival. Others who have stayed silent on the issue are now, with new (convenient) confidence, saying that we should’ve known all along. An example can be found here.

Didn’t take us Christians long to kick our wounded did it?

Ok, lets see if we can sort this out. Here are the facts as we know them: Todd Bentley and his wife are separating. And here is what this means to the body of Christ: Todd Bentley and his wife are separating.

Here is what this news doesn’t mean: 1) The revival was a fraud 2) Todd is a bad guy 3) Those guys that spoke out against Todd should be lifted up and praised (isn’t that what they thought was happening with Todd?) 4) Tattoos and black shirts are scary 5) Jesus slipped and fell of His throne.

Bottom line: Todd and his wife are separating. Thats it. No other information. It doesn’t effect you. We don’t even know why at this point. Why assume the worst? Why consider some grandiose conspiracy theory? Why seek this out as a way to prove yourself right? A man’s marriage is quite possibly falling apart and all we can think about is ourselves!

Why do Christians do this to each other? Simple – we don’t believe the Bible. Oh sure, we know the verses that prove our belief system. We know how to disprove someone else’s theology. We have those memorized. We can talk down the Mormons or Jehovah’s Witnesses when they ring our bell. We can tell you all the stuff that’s supposedly going to happen before Jesus comes back. But what about love (1 Cor 13)? What about preferring others better than ourselves (Phil 2:3)? What about not believing accusations against those who have given their lives in ministry (1 Tim 5:19)? We don’t really believe those. If we did, we’d practice them. We’d hold them in as high esteem as the verses that say Jesus is the only way to the Father. Same book, same author. Yet, we treat those commands regarding how to treat others as secondary.

Yes, I personally have had some concerns about the revival. Yes, if there is infidelity or other agregious sin that lead to the seperation, Todd should step down and get restored. But let’s not hope for the worst in an effort to prop oursleves up as being right.

“I told you so” cannot be said in love.“

 

Christians, we need to treat people better. I think I said something about that here…

Heresy, Cults, And Crazy People: What’s all the Fuss?

I was watching a documentary on the History International Channel, which after watching it, should be renamed the Stylized Historiography Channel. The documentary was on cults and their destructive influence on society. Popular examples of religious freaks took up most of the documentary’s time – like Jim Jones and David Koresh. One phrase captured my attention though, simply due to its overt bias. In the conclusion, the narrator said, “In a world littered with cultic tragedy, others loom upon the horizon.” Wow. Now that’s some nice fear-tinged rhetoric there. As the narrator spoke these words, an image of a large group of Christian charismatics lifting their hands during worship appeared. Of course, that made me angry simply due to the implication. It’s hard to call a global movement of 500 million believers a cult. But what really irritated me in those words and images is the narrow understanding of the sociology of cults and heresy.

Contrary to popular views of religious history, “cults” or sectarianism has been the norm for religious belief, including Christianity. ”Cult” simply means a fringe alternative movement standing for something outside mainstream values. Globally speaking, that means that in Hindu or Buddhist nations, Christianity is the “cult” there. The values may even be the same – just a more intense desire for, say, holiness. Paul Tillich said that sectarianism is “the criticism of the church for the gap between its claim and its reality.” Usually the horror stories (like Jones or Koresh) come from sectarian groups that don’t develop a large following (a few hundred people). They normally pass into history unnoticed. However, all Western and Eastern religions that exist today started as fringe religious movements. Everyone has been a “cult” at sometime or another. That includes all major Christian denominations. Even Christianity began as a radical, marginalized sect of Judaism.

Sects/cults become credible over time as new members are added and others begin to accept their existence. As sects turn into more accepted denominations, they often breed spiritual complacency among their members who begin to desire to return to the “good old days” when the movement was smaller and more radical.  In turn, this produces more sect formation by dissatisfied members. These “renewal movements” only  become independent sects when the existing church rejects their overtures for spiritual renewal. They merely want to renew the spiritual life of the church. If they are accepted, we call them “revivals” and talk about how great they are. Pejorative labels such as “cult” are given by the mainstream body after rejecting the movement’s overtures for change. Often times, sects require strict adherence to beliefs and high levels of commitment – essentially an  ”all or nothing” approach. Conversely, sectarians believe that the stress of asceticism is rewarded with spiritual power – something the group that rejected them did not possess.

And that’s when all the heresy talk starts. Our understanding of heresy now (which is applied to all types of religious “infractions”) is not the same as the early church. Initially, it only dealt with foundational truths of the Christian faith – namely the divinity of Jesus. In the fifth and sixth centuries, it became associated with other aspects of Christianity - for example Origen’s musings about universalism. But honestly the modern term most commonly derives its nastiness from the writers of church history. Hopefully everyone knows by now that only the “winners” in history write the books. And the same is true of church history. Cult critics initially only disapproved of a group’s method of worship, not the doctrines themselves. But over time, as accusations are repeated in church histories, the doctrine was often deemed heretical as well. For example, the Montanists (initially apart of the church) were a rigorous and devout group of Christians – orthodox in their foundational beliefs. However, by choosing to recognize their own leaders and holding a place for women in leadership, they came under ecclesiastical fire. Along with that came the critic’s rejection of the Montanist’s use of spiritual gifts. It’s not that the gifts were wrong – but that women were allowed to practice them. Eusebius quotes Apollonius: “Does a prophet paint his eyelids?” The issue was not with prophecy but rather who was prophesying: someone the church had not sanctioned. Throughout church history, heresy had little to do with doctrine and much to do with issues of recognized authority.

As such, cults aren’t usually heretics in the authentic sense of the word. What cults oftentimes are is heterodox. Now that doesn’t mean “wrong.” It means outside of mainstream acceptance. Any evangelical historian worth their salt will tell you that “orthodox” simply means the “majority opinion” – it doesn’t necessarily mean that the majority opinion is “correct,” though many times it does. So, many of the “orthodox” opinions we hold today were at one time heterodox, until enough people accepted them. To step away from religion for a minute, we all hold gravity to be an “orthodox” part of science. But Newton developed the “heterodox” idea of gravity from occult beliefs in Paracelsian correspondences, Neoplatonism, and alchemy. That may surprise you. But that’s a perfect example of something “heterodox” evolving into an accepted mainstream and orthodox belief. If the origins of gravity embarrass you, then you’re missing the point. All things are heterodox at their inception - including religious belief systems.

So, what should you glean from all of this? First, stop throwing around the term “heresy” for every little religious belief that doesn’t match your preconceived ideas. Secondly, no matter what mainstream religious group you belong to, you can thank your original “cult” leaders for being persistent in the face of opposition from the mainstrean religion of the time. What people called “crazy” then, we call “normal” now. And, third, be kind to the people “beneath” you on the religious food chain – they will be were you are within a couple of centuries…

The Theology of “The Shack”

I just finished The Shack by William Young. I laughed. I cried. I finished it in two days. What a beautiful, beautiful book. If you have not read it, please, for the love of all that is decent and holy, pick it up.

Though it’s fiction, Young deals with some amazingly complex theology in the book. And, though most reviews slam the book’s theological perspective, I would like to help set the record straight. Below I point you to some scholarly sources that confirm and elaborate on the ideas found in The Shack. I don’t agree with everything I read (though I certainly agree with a whole lot of it), but it’s important for you to know that Young isn’t expounding some “strange wind of doctrine” to whisk the Christian community into deception. He’s actually more theologically up-to-date than most of his detractors.

But how did I know I was really  going to like this book? In his acknowledgements, Young lists Malcolm Smith as an influence in writing the book. Malcolm is one of the most unrecognized yet most influential Bible teachers of the last 50 years. You want depth in your Christianity? Go to his site and buy every book and CD you can purchase.

I don’t have time to provide academic references for everything in The Shack, but a few should help you know that Young isn’t some crazy dude who’s making up stuff.

Concerned about Young’s use of metaphor and gender in describing God (chapter 5)? For metaphor, go read Sallie McFague’s Metaphorical Theology: Models of God in Religious Language. For gender, see Elizabeth Johnson’s She Who Is, or Paul Smith’s Is It Okay to Call God Mother?: Considering the Feminine Face of God.

Concerned about Young’s equality among the Trinity (chapter 8)? Read Robert Jenson’s The Triune Identity: God According to the Gospel, Karl Rahner’s The Trinity, or Catherine Lacugna’s God for Us: The Trinity and Christian Life.

Don’t like the idea of God having the “scars” of Jesus on his hands (chapter 6)? Read Jurgen Moltmann’s The Crucified God or The Creative Suffering of God by Paul Fiddes.

Don’t like the idea that Jesus proved his humanity in healing others (pp. 99-100)? Read about “Spirit Christology” in James Sheldon’s Mighty in Word and Deed or Gerald Hawthorne’s The Presence and the Power.

Confused by Sarayu’s speech on God as a “verb” rather than a “noun”? Read Miroslav Volf’s Work in the Spirit: Toward a Theology of Work.

Confused about Jesus’s lecture on submission and equality between men and women (chapter 10)? Go read Paul Jewett’s Man as Male and Female: A Study in Sexual Relationships from a Theological Point of View.

Don’t like Sophia’s view of judgment (chapter 11)? Go read Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Creation and Fall/Temptation.

Don’t like the idea of God being limited by his love for us? Read W.H. Vanstone’s The Risk of Love.

So, that should help. Young isn’t saying anything new – just things that have remained within academic circles until recently. Hopefully this encourages you to study out some of the ideas Young put forward in his book…oh, yeah, and go check out Malcolm Smith.