Luther Kissing the Pope's Feet

On October 31st, 1999 the Lutheran World Council of Churches and the Catholic Church signed a document called The Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification, after many years of ecumenical dialogue on a doctrine essential to the distinction between these two major traditions. For some, this was a time of ecumenical and ecclesiastical success. For others, it was a time of compromise, or even a threat to the essence of the gospel. In either case, it was a step towards differing traditions understanding one another, and finding commonality after centuries of dispute.

Rereading Paul Together: Protestant and Catholic Dialogues on Justification, ed. David Aune, is a compilation of articles from both Lutheran and Catholic scholars. Some of the articles are responses to one another, and others are dealing with some of the major issues in Pauline studies, especially over the last 30 years of research. The various articles are some of the most balanced, honest, charitable and irenic of any scholarly articles I've ever read. The ecumenical intention is refreshing, not because the writers are seeking compromise but because there is a concerted effort to go back to the biblical text for the basis of Christian theology.

One of the most interesting quotes was Lutheran theologian Michael Root's reference to Luther's quote in his commentary on Galatians: "All we aim for is that the glory of God be preserved and that the righteousness of faith remain pure and sound. Once this has been established, namely that God alone justifies us solely by His grace through Christ, we are willing not only to bear the pope aloft on our hands but also to kiss his feet." Although Luther is likely speaking in hyperbole, we also know what he thought of the pope. These are strong words.

Root's point (and what much of book reiterates) is that distinctives within Lutheran theology, especially over and against Rome, may be eventually unnecessary if dialogue such as the Joint Declaration continues to bring together various traditions. The challenge is seeking common ground, while clinging to the true, biblical gospel - and of course agreeing on the nature of the gospel itself. It's a challenging endeavor, but one worth the fight if ecumencity among Christians across denominations is something to be actually realized.

John Owen Pt 2: One Act of God

John Owen's classic The Death of Death in the Death of Christ is laborious, arduous, and daunting. His style of writing (I am told by my friend Jon Lamb) belongs to an older age of English prose that began to change significantly not long after the book was published in 1684. Nevertheless it is a fascinating and compelling work on the significance of the Christ's atonement.

What I find to be particularly compelling is Owen's ability to tie all the facets of Christ's atonement into one singular, focused and purposeful work - a work that begins with God's intention for the elect and ends with his finished work for his people. Christ's oblation, intercession, justification, sanctification, calling, glorification and future hope are all facets of the same intention in God to save those for whom he has died. This unifying picture of God's work in Christ raises stirring questions for those who hold to some form of Arminianism and hypothetical Universalism. One question in particular is: Why would Christ suffer on the cross on behalf of sinners, paying for their sins, only to have them suffer again for those same sins in hell? This question implies that Christ's work is efficacious, or it does what it was intended to do. This implication of course is predicated on a view of election in which God specifically chooses, by the mystery of his will and for his glory, those who will inherit eternal life.

I've always had a bent towards Calvinism. I cut my teeth on the John Piper school of theology, embracing an Anabaptist/Radical Reformation view of the sacraments, and a staunch Calvinist view of Soteriology. However, I've always danced the line on whether I was a 4 or 5 point Calvinist. Of course a true Calvinist would say there is no such thing as a 4 point Calvinist, that's an Arminian. And I would see their point. I guess having attended DTS and having been involved in a tradition/movement that expressed a belief in unlimited atonement (drop the L in TULIP), I've always struggled to take a stand on the issue concerning the great question, "For whom did Christ die?"

But Owen's book makes me much less comfortable with the idea of unlimited atonement, specifically because I believe in unconditional election. If God, before the creation of the universe, chose us, sent his Son as the perfect God/Man to suffer and die for our sins, justified us in Christ, adopted us, sanctified, glorified and gave everlasting hope and life to us, then why would he only do part of that for others? In other words, why would God send his Son as the perfect God/Man to suffer and die for the non-elects' sins but do nothing else for them in the aforementioned sentence? Would he not die for those who he elected? Would he not adopt those whom he justified? Why would he die for those he never intended to elect, justify, call, adopt, sanctify and glorify?

The point is this: Embracing unconditional election and understanding God's work in Christ for the sake of lost sinners as one singular, interconnected, intentional work from beginning to end changes the way we think of the atonement. I believe that passages such as 1John 2.2, John 3.16, and 2Pet 3.9 make it difficult to not see God's love for all humankind. But although I don't have time to expound on it, I will say that Owen's arguments for not understanding 'world' 'all' and other seemingly universal words as meaning "every man, woman and child who ever lived, is living now, and ever will live" are compelling, and the opposing view seemingly indefensible.

I have to bring up my friend Jon Lamb again, who always asks, "So what's at stake?" Why does this matter? That part, I'm still figuring out. Often times practical issues as they relate to evangelism are discussed when limited vs unlimited atonement is in question. But hopefully one would not think that embracing limited atonement somehow devalues evangelism. I suppose it could, but it doesn't have to. The truth is that, unless you're a complete Universalist, the atonement in Christian orthodoxy will always be limited to some degree or another. Even an Arminian would admit that some people do not place their personal trust in Christ and thus pay for this sins. What good is Christ's death on their behalf in that case? Unlimited atonement brings me no additional comfort, in fact it's that much more heartbreaking considering that one's sins were paid for, and yet they rejected  the free gift in Christ. Limited atonement (or particular atonement) in fact is comforting, because it says that the work God intended in Christ for his children is one complete work with many facets, initiated before time began, and comes with a promise to be completed, to the glory of God. 

Synchronicity

All day Wednesday I struggled at work with boredom. It's not that I didn't have anything to do, it was that I didn't feel like doing anything. I was working from home, which is sometimes counterproductive. The house is too quiet and the climate control too comfortable for serious work. So my mind wandered and my body relaxed the more I slumped in my chair and stretched out my legs.

As soon as I went into work the next day I received an email titled: "Boredom at Work is Self Inflicted". It was from a daily devotional of a ministry called Work Life: http://www.worklife.org/

I felt like a complainer...and I was. It's absurd when you think about all the blessings and gifts and resources I've been given to provide for my family and live a comfortable life (comfortable in light of the world population, not necessarily middle or under middle class Americans). My current vocation does not line up with what I perceive to be my long-term vocational calling...so I often enjoy whining about it, which leads to boredom, self-loathing and apathy, instead of being thankful, which leads to praise, contentment and a gracious spirit.

What I was especially reminded of in all this was the power of the gospel, to redeem, transcend and inspire any given situation. Isn't that what makes the power of the gospel so great? The gospel is not controlled or produced by its context, but changes the lives of people within a given context in order for God's work to be made manifest in the world. It's a quiet power that moves in the hearts of men with indelible grace and strength.

Opening that email the other day was also a reminder of God's sense of humor in synchronicity, or 'an apparently meaningful coincidence.' I can't remember if I laughed or cussed, but the irony was wonderful. To receive that email, blasted out to thousands, the day after I struggled mightily with boredom, was, what I interpret as, God's providence. I don't look for 'synchronic signs' under every rock...but I know them when I see them.

May we all 'work as though working unto the Lord' (Col 3.22-24) and allow the peace of Christ to do the rest (Phil 4.4-7).

Revelation, not Explanation

My pastor, Keith Ferguson, is taking a break from his current Galatians series to preach on tragedy (Tragedy and Trinity is the sermon title), due to all the questions he's been getting about the relationship between God's goodness and omnipotence (Keith's blog: http://www.gospelrenewal.com/blog/). If God is in fact good, as well as sovereign and all-powerful, then why does he allow (or worse yet be the first cause of) tragedy in our world? This is often referred to as the theodicy, or the problem with evil. It's a legitimate problem, and one that all religions who believe in a personal God are forced to face.

One of the quotes Keith is using, which I think is great, is from a David Platt sermon:  

The greatest need that God says we have in the book of Job in the face of personal tragedy and immense suffering is not explanation, but revelation. David Platt, The Church At Brook Hills

In the face of tragedy trite explanations and tired cliches don't cut it. Unfortunately even Scripture sometimes doesn't cut it (yeah, I said it). If one of my children died in a car crash and someone said, "Well you know God works for the good of those..." I know that's true, but sadly that reminder probably wouldn't help. Instead I need a person to just be there, not an explanation for why something happened.

In the face of tragedy there's a balance that needs to be struck. On the one hand there is hope, a hope that we must cling to and remind ourselves of all the time. On the other hand there is an acceptance of the reality of the tragedy in which we find ourselves. A good friend from seminary was flying home a few years back for his father's funeral. His father died of a heart attack in his 50's. My friend, while at the airport, happened to run into one of the seminary's teaching assistants, who gave his condolences. My friend responded, "Well yeah, but he's in a better place." The teaching assistant paused for a moment and said, "Well yeah, but it still sucks." That was a powerful reminder that we shouldn't sugar coat tragedy. We don't sweep it under the rug so that we can feel better about it. It is what it is. Death is horrible - always. Even when a person is relieved of their current sufferings in this life. Death is an abomination. Suffering and sin and sadness are things that are not right with the world - and were not part of God's original intention for human beings. But the great hope we have is that all those things will pass away, when Christ returns in glory.

It's interesting in Job that the vast majority of the book is made up of attempts at explanation in the face of tremendous suffering. And then the voice of God drives home the fact that what Job needed was a Person, not an commentary. He needed a revelation, not an explanation. Our world needs Jesus, to come face to face with the Person, who is the only one who can deliver on hopeful promises.

Closed Handed / Open Handed

One of the greatest challenges in theology and ministry is differentiating between closed-handed and open-handed beliefs.

Closed-handed beliefs are those beliefs that we must hold to with relentless conviction. To not do so would be to compromise the core of Christian faith. These essential beliefs make Christianity what it is, giving it consistency and coherency. These basic beliefs are generally agreed upon among Christian denominations, although there are, of course, exceptions. Basic beliefs about the Trinity, the Fallenness of Humankind, the Hypo Static Union, the Incarnation, Salvation through Christ Alone by Grace, The Death, Resurrection, Ascension and Future Return of Christ, are all examples of those core Christian beliefs. To take any of these away would be to alter historical Christianity to the point of making it deficient, if not unrecognizable. These are closed-handed issues, because they are basically not up for debate.

Open handed beliefs on the other hand are those beliefs which may be important, but about which Christians of various traditions and backgrounds can comfortably embrace disagreement. These beliefs can be debated without threatening the cogency and coherency of Christianity. Differing views on Baptism and the Eucharist for instance are examples of these (although Baptism and the Eucharist cannot be abandoned altogether to maintain orthodoxy). And even beyond these examples there are issues even more open-handed, such as style of worship music and forms of discipleship and local church programming. These are sometimes referred to by the Greek word adiaphora, or 'non-essentials'.

But unfortunately life is not as clean cut as simply drawing a line between what's most important and what's less important. For instance, how do we even decide what is closed-handed and open-handed? Even if Christendom on the whole agrees on the six or seven closed-handed issues listed above, aren't there a myriad of other issues that various traditions can find reason to argue over? Quite frankly, there are.

I've encountered an example of this struggle with differentiating closed-handed and open-handed issues just this week. I had a good friend who applied for a pastor position at a church in Austin. Right before the final handshake and acceptance of the formal offer, the hiring pastor decided to ask my friend what he 'thought about drinking' (alcohol that is). My friend gave a balanced, and biblical view of drinking: Alcohol is not innately evil, and Jesus drank wine. There is no Scriptural prohibition of alcohol except for the command to not get drunk on wine. Therefore there is liberty in this area. Of course, the pastor would not have asked this unless he had a bone to pick. As soon as my friend answered the question it was if a bomb had gone off in the pastor's office. The pastor began to present his own legalistic and tradition-driven view of alcohol. My friend obviously dodged a bullet with this one. 

So what gives us an anchor for establishing and maintaining consistency in differentiating closed-handed and open-handed issues? It's one thing to debate issues which are adiaphora, but it's another to debate on more central topics such as Who is God? I would suggest that the ancient Christian creeds offer the anchor we need, and the Niceno-Constantinopolitan Creed in particular (381). This creed forms the basis for articulating historic Christian faith. The great church historian and theologian J.N.D. Kelly has an wonderful quote on the way in which this creed creates unity in the universal and global Body of Christ:

Of all existing creed it is the only one of which ecumenicity, or universal acceptance, can be plausibly claimed. Unlike the purely Western Apostles' Creed, it was admitted as authoritative in East and West alike from 451 onwards, and it has retained that position, with one significant variation in its text, right down to the present day. So far from displacing it, the Reformation reaffirmed its binding character and gave it a new lease of life and an extended currency by translating it into the vernacular tongues. It is thus one of the few threads by which the tattered fragments of the divided robe of Christendom are held together. (Kelly, Early Christian Creeds, 296, Italics mine)

This quote obviously speaks to the known disunity in Christianity, but also to its unity, specifically in the creed of 381. The creeds offer a glimmer of hope for the 'divided robe of Christendom'.

In reflecting upon closed and open handed issue, St Augustine's famous quote is always applicable: "In essentials unity, in non-essentials liberty, in all things, charity."

John Owen Pt. 1: Oblation and Intercession

I'm in a theology group/book club that reads and discusses one book a quarter. It's pretty unofficial and casual. We meet at Austin's classic restaurant Kerbey Ln and discuss what we've read until we stop making sense. We may drink a beer or take down some caffeine, but my personal goal is to eat at least a thousand chips with salsa. I love Kerbey's chips and salsa.

So the book we're reading currently is the most difficult thus far: The great Puritan theologian, John Owen's The Death of Death in the Death of Christ. It is the pinnacle work against the theology of universal redemption, or hypothetical universal redemption (i.e. all are saved, and/or Christ died for all, respectively). They say ('they' being random people I've talked to plus J.I. Packer in the book's introduction) that no one has adequately responded to Owen's argument since it was published in 1684. That's pretty impressive, because that was published 327 years ago.

I have to admit that it's taken awhile to get used to Owen's writing. It's bizarrely awkward. You would think that one could chalk it up to the time period in which is was written, however, even Packer admits that Owen is not a typical writer, even for his time. He seems to write in long-winded streams of consciousness that are hard to follow.

But despite the difficulty, it's obvious that Owen has something to say, and that there is a tenacious logic driving his argument. In the section I'm reading currently he is dealing with the concepts of oblation and intercession. Oblation meaning the suffering of Christ on our behalf. Intercession being the substitutionary atonement for our sins. Owen's arugment is that these two distinct facets of the cross are necessarily and inextricably bound to one another, so that they cannot be fully understood and appreciated apart from one another within the framework of salvation theology. This is because God purposed in Christ to save those for whom he died. For Owen, Christ died for the elect and his paying for their sins was an efficacious work which would be fulfilled unconditionally. In other words, Why would Christ pay for the sins of someone who would then be damned to hell in order to pay for the sins already paid for by Christ? Owen would say that that hypothetical situation would make the cross worthless. Strong words. But also a strong argument.

There is much more to this concept, and much more to come in the book (I'm only 70 pages in), but I have to admit that one thing I am wondering about is whether or not it will be difficult to determine when Owen is simply being logical and when he is being biblical. By no means are those things mutually exclusive, however, because something is logical doesn't require it to be biblical, and vice versa. Interestingly, Calvinists tend to be relentlessly logical, and Owen is no exception. In fact Cavlinist arguments are normally sophisticated, intricate, and logically consistent. Moreover, the traditions stemming from Calvinism no doubt deminstrate a cerebral bent. This makes reading Owen's work critically, intimidating. We'll have to see how the book continues, and if there is anyone out there to respond to Owen's argument. 

The Terrible Inefficiency of a Devotional Life

Recently I sat down in front of my computer to 'revamp' my personal work and life schedule. My work-life balance was horribly off - I was working from home every night, skipping lunch and it seemed that there was a ministry event at church every other night. I was remembering Gordon MacDonald's nervous breakdown in the face of a hectic work schedule (Ordering Your Private World, MacDonald). So with my Excel spreadsheet glowing on my computer screen I filled in the little boxes that represented the various elements of my life.

Two weeks into my plan things seemed to be working well. I was going into work earlier, not bringing work home, and prioritizing my days. All was well, or so it seemed.

All was well until I realized that my devotional life was suffering. I still had a tiny box on the bottom of my Excel sheet, for 6:30am, relegated to 'Quiet Time'. But that 'slot' in my schedule was suffering.

I mentioned this to my good friend Jon and his remark was interesting. He pointed out that devotional time was one of the most inefficient things a person can do. In an effort to improve efficiency I pushed out, unknowingly, one of the most inefficient things I did - morning reading of Scripture and prayer.

Devotional time doesn't make me any more money. It doesn't make my boss happy, it doesn't help me leave work right at 5pm. It doesn't help my morning routine to prepare for work, or my evening routine with the family. It's simply me being still and listening...and reading and praying. And sometimes writing. It doesn't advance my agenda.

At the same time, paradoxically, it's extremely critical to everything I do - as it relates family, work, ministry and every other aspect of life. It influences all of life because it re-orients my heart and mind to God's priorities, whether those things are efficient or not. (Not to say that all of life shouldn't be 'devoted' to God and that continuous prayer shouldn't be indicative of our lives. However, I believe setting aside specific time is critical).

And when you think about, just about all of ministry is that way. It's not only inefficient but also a hassle. It's a hassle sometimes to initiate with my neighbors, take a co-worker out to lunch that needs to hear the gospel, spend extra time praying with my children, or serve weekly in the local church. But what in the world would I be doing if I wasn't doing those things?

Martin Luther said it best when asked how he could fulfill all his personal ministerial responsibilities and still have time to spend several hours a day in prayer and devotional time. He said, (paraphrase) "I'm too busy not to spend that time in prayer before the Lord." The pressure of a busy schedule should drive us to prayer and study and its inefficiencies will ultimately bear fruit that far surpasses the fruit of an 'efficient' life.