Saw this song posted on Glen Scrivener’s blog today. This is his version, which he says is “ropey.” I have no idea what that means…need to work on my British slang. In any case, I think it’s great. The words are by Christopher Idle, and the tune is Kelvingrove (traditional Scottish).
Mission and Unity
I’ve recently published an article in Missio Dei: Tyndale Seminary’s Journal of Missional Christianity, entitled “That the World May Believe: Mission and Unity.” It’s not a long read, and not overly specialized, since Missio Dei is a journal aimed at all Christian leaders, not just academics. The journal aims to utilize the expertise of faculty and friends of the Tyndale community in such a way as to help equip Christian leaders in their day to day participation in God’s mission.
The article begins with John 17, in which Jesus prays for the church to be one, “so that the world may believe that you have sent me.” This text suggests that there is a strong connection between Christian unity and Christian witness. However, Christians have never really been able to agree as to what Jesus was really saying when he prayed “that they may be one.”
The article proceeds with a discussion of seven different approaches to Christian unity: spiritual, visible, structural, doctrinal, service, mutual recognition, koinonia. Some of these approaches are usually identified with one particular Christian tradition, but they are not mutually exclusive, and can be combined in various ways.
The second half of the article suggests that evangelicals in particular could re-examine their aversion to one of these approaches: visible unity.
I would also suggest that, in a post-Christendom context, it is time to re-examine evangelicalism’s characteristic aversion to conceptions of “visible unity.” In a previous era, when established state churches could institute a kind of false unity by coercion, it made sense for evangelicals to resist such conceptions of “visible” unity and stand up for our freedom to assemble and worship according to conscience. However, we no longer live in a time when state power is aligned with one particular denomination, and so the idea of a “visible unity” need not carry those connotations. We have also rightly resisted approaches to unity which pushed towards the building of a “superchurch” with a centralized bureaucracy. But “visible unity” need not be taken in this direction, either.
To say that our unity ought to be “visible” is simply to say that the church’s unity must take shape in the world, as the church lives out its life in space and time. We can’t just pay lip-service to the unity we have been promised in Christ. In order for our unity to serve the purpose of witnessing to the world about Jesus, it must be a unity that is on display for the world to see.
Head on over to Missio Dei to read the whole article, and while you’re there, check out the archives.
Catherine Booth at Chatsworth
I was surprised to discover during some reading yesterday that William and Catherine Booth had a bit of a holiday in Chatsworth Park when they were young marrieds. Maybe I shouldn’t find it surprising, but it’s not the kind of place that I normally imagine the “Army mother” spending time.
Chatsworth has been home to the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire since Tudor times, and Chatsworth House is one of the most well known and oft-visited English country houses. The main part of the current house was built in the late seventeenth century, and has been used as a set for many films, including the 2005 adaptation of Pride and Prejudice. Apparently, Jane Austen’s fictional Pemberley was inspired by the real-life Chatsworth.
We visited Chatsworth in September 2010, and it was well worth the trip. I didn’t care too much for the inside of the house, but the grounds, and the physical setting of the house itself are truly amazing. These pictures give you a bit of a sense of what it is like, but of course they cannot do it justice.
Catherine seems to have been quite taken by it all when she and William stayed in Chatsworth Park in late October and early November of 1855. Frederick Booth-Tucker’s biography, The Life of Catherine Booth, Mother of The Salvation Army (2 volumes, 1892), includes extracts from some letters she wrote to her mother during their stay in the Park, in which she praises the scenery and the magnificence of the house itself.
This afternoon we walked through the park right up to the Duke of Devonshire’s residence. It is one of the most splendid spots I was ever in. It is all hill and dale, beautifully wooded and bestudded with deer in all directions. The residence itself is superior to many of the royal palaces, and the scenery around is most picturesque and sublime. This splendid spot is ours for a week in every sense necessary to its full enjoyment, without any of the anxiety of being its real owner (p. 150).
I suppose I am so used to thinking of Catherine Booth as an austere, self-denying warrior and advocate for the poor, that I find it refreshing to see another side of her – one that is taken aback by the physical beauty and magnificence of a fine English estate. In another letter she again offers high praise for the beauty of Chatsworth.
This morning we were just preparing to visit Chatsworth House and to explore a part of the park we had not seen, when to our surprise Mr. and Mrs. Fenton and Mr. Mark Firth, brother to the gentleman named in my former letter, came to the door…So we set off to climb some tremendous hills, in order to reach a tower built in the highest part of the Park grounds. I got about half-way up and then my strength failed me, and I begged to be allowed to sit down and wait, while the rest of the party completed the ascent. After much persuasion I carried my point and was left alone, sitting on a stone, my eyes resting on one of the loveliest scenes I ever expect to witness in this world. I enjoyed my meditations exceedingly. I was on an elevation about as high as St. Paul’s, with a waterfall on one side of me and the most romantic scenery you can imagine all round, above and below (p. 152).
Even in the midst of her revelry, however, she did not lose herself completely. So she continues:
The old Duke ought to be a happy man, if worldly possessions can give felicity. But alas! we know they cannot. And, according to all accounts, he is one of those whom they have failed to impart it (p. 152).
Sermon: the Kingdom for Beginners
THE KINGDOM FOR BEGINNERS
Matthew 18:1-14
Preached at Wesley Chapel Free Methodist Church, Scarborough, ON
March 11, 2012
Henri Nouwen was a Roman Catholic priest, psychologist, and author, who is considered to be one of the finest spiritual writers of recent memory; his books have impacted millions of Christians around the world. He was originally from Holland, but came to United States for graduate school and ended up teaching at some of the finest universities in the world: Notre Dame, Yale, and Harvard. But in his early fifties, after 20 years of living a very privileged life as an academic and famous author, Nouwen decided to give it all up and move to Richmond Hill, believe it or not. Why Richmond Hill? He came to join the l’Arche community there, called l’Arche Daybreak.
Some of you have probably heard of l’Arche. It was founded by Canadian Jean Vanier in 1964 as a community for people with intellectual disabilities, or mental handicaps, and has spread around the world to 40 countries. L’Arche is French for “the ark,” as in Noah’s Ark. L’Arche takes a unique, faith-based approach to providing homes for people with disabilities. It is not at all like a nursing home. There are no “clients,” there are no “patients,” and there are no “staff.” At l’Arche, the “able” the “disabled” live together in community, in fact they live together in regular houses, and they relate to one another like families more than anything else. Everyone is treated as a person of equal respect and dignity; they all take responsibility for their household, and they have relationships of mutual support and accountability. Their households have close to a one-on-one ratio of non-disabled and disabled people. You might think, that doesn’t sound very efficient! Do they really need one non-disabled person for each disabled person? But the point of l’Arche is not to be efficient, but to be a place where everyone is valued as a child of God.
So in 1985 Henri Nouwen left Harvard to move to l’Arche Daybreak in Richmond Hill. He abandoned the most exclusive circles of intellectual life in order to live amongst people who were intellectually disabled. And, for the rest fo his life, much of his writing focused on how much he learned from these supposedly disabled people. In his wonderful book, In the Name of Jesus, he says,
“The first thing that struck me when I came to live in a house with mentally handicapped people was that their liking or disliking of me had absolutely nothing to do with any of the many useful things I had done until then. Since nobody could read my books, the books could not impress anyone, and since most of them never went to school, my twenty years at Notre Dame, Yale, and Harvard did not provide a significant introduction.”(27)
The fact that he was a Harvard professor meant nothing to these people. He was used to relying on his credentials and his accomplishments to impress everyone, but suddenly he was put into a place where people didn’t care about how many letters he had after his name. He continues,
“I was suddenly faced with my naked self, open for affirmations and rejections, hugs and punches, smiles and tears, all dependent simply on how I was perceived at the moment. In a way, it seemed as though I was starting my life all over again.” (28)
In spite of all that he had accomplished, this very accomplished man was learning to become a beginner again. And he found that, when he humbled himself and became a beginner, he learned a lot about following Jesus.
I think of Henri Nouwen’s experience of “starting life all over again” when I read this story in Matthew 18, where Jesus calls the disciples to humble themselves and become like little children…
Read the rest here: Sermon 120311 MATTHEW 18 1 to 14
How the Wesleys Describe the Goodness of God
If you had to choose a set of hymns or worship songs to describe the goodness of God, what would be at the top of your list?
I would initially think of something to do with creation, maybe dealing with how God provides good things for his creatures. Maybe “Great is thy faithfulness.” Possibly a setting of Psalm 23. Or something about God’s love.
A few years ago I ordered a copy of A Collection of Hymns for the Use of the People Called Methodists, from the Bicentennial Edition of Wesley’s Works. It is an amazing piece of literature, and everyone who is interested in Wesleyan history and theology should spring for it. The Wesleys put out numerous hymn collections throughout their lifetime, but this is the one that really stuck and became the standard of Wesleyan hymnody.
Near the start of the hymnal, there is a section of introductory hymns categorized as “Describing the Goodness of God”. The first hymn in this section, no. 22, written by Samuel Wesley (father of Charles and John), reads as follows:
Behold the Savior of mankind
Nailed to the shameful tree!
How vast the love that Him inclined
To bleed and die for thee!Hark, how He groans, while nature shakes,
And earth’s strong pillars bend;
The temple’s veil in sunder breaks,
The solid marbles rend.“’Tis done!” The precious ransom’s paid,
“Receive My soul,” He cries!
See where He bows His sacred head!
He bows His head, and dies!But soon He’ll break death’s envious chain,
And in full glory shine:
O Lamb of God! was ever pain,
Was ever love, like Thine?
It seems strange at first, because our inclination is to think that “describing the goodness of God” should mean dwelling on his eternal attributes, his care of creation, or his care of us amidst the trials of life. But Wesley launches right into a description of the cross.
Hymn 23 begins with an even more concrete description of Calvary:
Extended on a cursed tree, Besmeared with dust, and sweat, and blood, See there, the King of glory see! Sinks and expires the Son of God
In hymn 24 we find the opening lines, “Ye that pass by, behold the Man / The Man of griefs, condemned for you!” and in verse two: “See how his back the scourges tear / While to the bloody pillar bound!”
I was moved when I read through this section and realized what John Wesley had done in organizing the collection in this way. All seventeen hymns in this section are focused on the cross and the atonement. There’s not one that speaks in general terms of God’s goodness. Wesley’s christocentrism is on full display in his ordering of these hymns.
How do we describe God’s goodness? Rather than beginning with an abstract conception of a good God, and then theorizing about what that might mean, we begin at the cross, the climax and centre of God’s self-revelation. We begin, strangely, with Jesus at his most human – suffering, bleeding, and dying for us and for our salvation – even though this is the point in the gospel narrative that most clearly underlines the inadequacies of our preconceived understandings of God and his goodness.
It is sad that many churches today shy away from a focus on the cross, even on Good Friday! People seem concerned that it the crucifixion story is too gruesome, or too depressing. One time I remember someone saying to me that we needed to end the Good Friday service on an “upbeat” note – as if we somehow need to “spin” the Good Friday story into a “positive” message. The cross doesn’t need spin doctors. It doesn’t need to be turned into something “positive,” and it doesn’t need to somehow be reconciled with a preconceived notion of “goodness.” The cross is God’s demonstration of his goodness. To describe the cross is to describe the goodness of God. The story just needs to be told.
As we move through the remaining weeks of Lent, looking towards Good Friday, let’s not rush through our contemplation of the cross.
I give the last word to Charles. This is hymn 27 in the Collection.
O Love divine, what hast thou done!
The immortal God hath died for me!
The Father’s co-eternal Son
Bore all my sins upon the tree.
Th’immortal God for me hath died:
My Lord, my Love, is crucified!Is crucified for me and you,
To bring us rebels back to God.
Believe, believe the record true,
Ye all are bought with Jesus’ blood.
Pardon for all flows from His side:
My Lord, my Love, is crucified!Behold and love, ye that pass by,
The bleeding Prince of life and peace!
Come, sinners, see your Savior die,
And say, “Was ever grief like His?”
Come, feel with me His blood applied:
My Lord, my Love, is crucified!Then let us sit beneath His cross,
And gladly catch the healing stream:
All things for Him account but loss,
And give up all our hearts to Him:
Of nothing think or speak beside,
My Lord, my Love, is crucified!
[revised and re-blogged from a post on March 31, 2010]
Israel and the Church: reclaiming the continuities
Generally speaking, most ecclesiological thinking has tended to overemphasize the discontinuity between ancient Israel and the church. There are many reasons for this, some of which explicitly and intentionally emphasize the discontinuities, and some of which do so in an implicit way. This overstress on the differences between Israel and church can lead to a static understanding of the church, which misses out on the dynamic, historical nature of the people of God, and thereby leaves us less sensitive to questions of renewal and reform. I would suggest that thinking more intentionally about the continuities between the church and Israel can help to recover a more biblical understanding of the people of God.
My perspective on this question has been greatly influenced by George Lindbeck’s argument for an “Israel-like” view of the church. I’m not going to summarize his work here (though maybe I should do that another time), but if you are interested in what he has to say, I would recommend reading the following two essays: “The Story-Shaped Church: Critical Exegesis and Theological Interpretation,” in Scriptural Authority and Narrative Interpretation (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1987), 161–78; and “The Church,” in The Church in a Postliberal Age (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003), 145-165.
First of all, why is it that Christian thinking about the church has overemphasized the discontinuities between Israel and church? I would suggest four significant reasons, though their are probably more.
- An idealized, platonic understanding of the church. This is particularly true of ecclesiologies which place great stress on the “invisible church” (that is, the elect, known only to God) as the “real” church. If the “real” church is invisible, then the historical, visible church can be undermined as “unreal” or unimportant.
- A triumphalistic view of the church as holder of the keys to salvation. If the church’s role in mediating salvation is stressed too much, such that the church itself is seen as possessing the fullness of the means of salvation (rather than serving as God’s instrument), then it becomes easy to play off the “triumphant” church against the unfaithfulness of Israel in the Old Testament.
- Divisions among Christians leading to different groups claiming to be the “true” church. The triumphalist tendency in the Christian church has only be exacerbated by divisions. In a situation of division, ecclesiology has often become about proving that your church is complete and lacking in nothing, in comparison with other churches. Again, this can easily lead to a presumption that we are above the failures of Israel.
- Some forms of supersessionism and dispensationalism. Obviously, supersessionism in all forms is going to stress the discontinuities between Israel and church, since supersessionists argue that the church as replaced Israel as God’s people. The most extreme form would be dispensationalism, which, in arguing that Christians and Jews live under different “dispensations” of God, are able to justify strong discontinuities between the Israel and church.
So, what then, am I proposing regarding the continuities and discontinuities between Israel and church, scripturally speaking? Clearly, from a Christian perspective, things have changed for the people of God post-resurrection. But how much has changed, and what hasn’t changed?
First, what are the discontinuities between Israel and church?
- Pentecost marks the beginning of a greater fullness of the Spirit, poured out upon all (Joel 2:28-32 / Acts 2).
- Jesus Christ offers a more complete revelation of God than was available to the OT people of God (Jeremiah 31:31-34; Hebrews 1:1-4)
- The church is given a universal mandate to evangelize the world (Matthew 28:16-20)
- The sacrificial worship and priesthood of OT Israel are replaced by Jesus’ work on the cross (Hebrews 10)
- The church is not intended to be a nation with a theocratic civil government, but a dispersed community of exiles, spread among every nation (1 Peter 1:1-2)
What are the continuities that I believe should be re-emphasized?
- The church is still a historical and visible community of persons.
- It is not an “idea”; the church is a real, living human community, with a history of ups and downs, successes and failures, faithfulness and apostasy (Acts 5; Revelation 2-3)
- The church is still a communal entity. Though salvation is personal it is not individualistic.
- The people of God can still be seen as a people on a journey – a pilgrim people headed towards the new creation (1 Peter 2:11)
- The church is still subject to judgment under the lordship of Christ. This judgment is not only a future event, but is reflected in the church’s historical life, here and now. Judgment begins with the house of God (1 Peter 4:17). NT Christians viewed OT history as their history, and took warning against unfaithfulness (1 Cor. 10).
- The church is still a holy and priestly people, witnessing in word and deed to the world about the faithfulness of God (1 Peter 2:9-10).
- The people of God still need a Saviour. The church is not, in itself, the fulfilment of Israel; Jesus Christ is the fulfillment of Israel; he is also the fulfillment of the church; we find fullness in him, not in ourselves (Eph. 1:3-10)
If we take these continuities to heart, several implications will follow. These are thoughts which I try to keep in mind as I think theologically about the church.
- Though the church enjoys a greater fullness of the Holy Spirit, we are still fallible and capable of unfaithfulness, as was ancient Israel (1 Corinthians).
- Because the church is historical, it always exists in a particular time and place, as a particular community embedded as a bodily presence in a particular culture. Being rooted in a specific time and place, then, is an essential aspect of the church’s identity.
- Though Christ has taken our judgment upon himself, he still disciplines his people as their Lord, just as the people of Israel were disciplined. That is to say, all forms of “triumphalism” should be rejected. Being “in Christ” and having the Spirit’s presence does not imply automatic blessing – it may also mean judgment, rebuke, and discipline (1 Cor. 11:32).
- Finally, we should expect to see periods of decline and renewal in church history, and we should attune ourselves to these dynamics. This is part of our journey as the living, breathing, embodied, historical and visible people of God.
John Wesley on the Character of God
As a follow up to last week, I was asked to expand upon the rationale behind Wesley’s choice of the “loving Parent” model of God, as opposed to the “ruling monarch” model. I suggested, following Randy Maddox, that the fundamental difference between Calvin and Wesley on predestination is not found in their respective views of the human condition, as is often thought, but in their understandings of the character of God.
Maddox writes,
…the Wesleys sensed their most basic disagreement with their opponents to lie in their respective defining models of God. For the Calvinists, the defining model was a sovereign monarch…By contrast, Wesley more commonly employed the model of a loving parent (Responsible Grace, 56).
Why is it that Wesley favours the “loving Parent” model over the “ruling monarch” model?
First of all, Wesley favours the “loving Parent” model because wants to avoid abstracting God’s sovereignty from God’s loving and just character. This is seen in his rejection of the voluntarist understanding of God’s goodness, which was favoured by the Reformers, and is part of a fundamental and longstanding theological debate concerning the character of God, and how we understand God’s goodness. To put it in a nutshell, this debate can be summed up in a question: are God’s acts good simply because whatever God wills is good by definition, or are God’s acts good because they conform to “the good”? In other words, is there a standard of “goodness” to which we can meaningfully expect God to conform, or must we insist on the radical freedom of God, such that he is not bound by any external criteria?
Wesley himself puts the question this way in Sermon 34, “The Original, Nature, Properties and Use of the Law.”
Is his will the original [that is, the origin] of right and wrong? Is a thing therefore right, because God wills it? Or does he will it because it is right? (§III.6)
The voluntarist position argues that things are good because God wills them, and that whatever God does is good by definition. We are in no place to make judgments about whether or not God’s actions are good. Roger Olson sums up the crassest version of this position in the phrase “God can do whatever he jolly well pleases.”
The non-voluntarist, or realist (recognizing that these terms can be used in different senses in the context of other debates), says that things are good because they are good, and that God’s actions are good because God’s eternal nature conforms to a real standard of goodness. For a non-voluntarist, God cannot do that which is evil. God’s eternal nature is good, and even God cannot violate his own nature.
If you want to read more about this debate, check out these two posts by Roger Olson: “A much neglected basic choice in theology” and “More about the basic choice in theology”
Wesley’s doesn’t wade into this debate in great depth in his writing, but when he does address it he is clear that he rejects the voluntarist position, because he believes it takes the question of God’s will in abstraction from the question of God’s character. Continuing in Sermon 34, his comment is,
It seems, then, that the whole difficulty arises from considering God’s will as distinct from God: otherwise it vanishes away (§III.7).
In a later piece entitled “Thoughts upon God’s Sovereignty” he stresses that God’s sovereign work as Creator must not be played off against his work as a just Governor. While, as a Creator, “he has acted, in all things, according to his own sovereign will,” in his role as Governor, he always acts in accordance with the rules of justice and mercy. Remarking on the differences of circumstances that are found among people born into different nations around the world and at various points in history, Wesley states,
It is hard to say how far this difference extends; what an amazing difference there is, as to the means of improvement, between one born and brought up in a pious English family, and one born and bred among the Hottentots. Only we are sure the difference cannot be so great, as to necessitate one to be good, or the other to e evil; to force one into everlasting glory, or the other into everlasting burnings. This cannot be, because it would suppose to the character of God as a Creator, to interfere with God as a Governor; wherein he does not, cannot possibly, act according to his own mere sovereign will; but, as he has expressly told us, according to the invariable rules both of justice and mercy (in The Works of John Wesley, 3rd Edition, ed. Thomas Jackson, vol. 10, p. 362).
God’s character, in other words, is bound to real universal standards of justice and mercy. Wesley rejects the Calvinist approach to predestination because he believes that their position violates God’s love and justice.
The “loving Parent” model of God offers a better way to understand God as one who “rules” but can, at the same time, always be trusted to act in a way that is just and loving towards his children.
Secondly, Wesley favours the “loving Parent” model of God because it supports a more robust understanding of grace-enabled human freedom. The “ruling monarch” model suggests a sovereignty that is defined by the will of the monarch, who is not to be defied by his citizens. On the other hand, a loving Parent’s authority over their child is not threatened by some degree of freedom in the child.
The Calvinist tradition often stresses that their understanding of predestination furthers the “glory of God,” by affirming a salvation which is unconditionally caused by God’s eternal predestination the elect. Wesley would argue that leaving room for uncoerced human response does not detract from God’s glory, if the response is grace-enabled. God’s “glory” is not the pure power of his will, but the glorious way in which he wills that which is just and loving.
In connection with this point, Maddox helpfully suggests that Wesley views God’s sovereignty “fundamentally in terms of empowerment, rather than control or overpowerment” (p. 55). He continues,
“While a sovereign monarch might technically be free to dispose of subjects as he or she sees fit, a loving parent would not even consider withholding potential saving aid from any child (i.e., unconditional reprobation or limited atonement). On the other hand, truly loving parents also respect the integrity of their children. Ulitmately, they would not impose their assistance against the (mature) child’s will (Resonpsible Grace, 56)
In short, Wesley favours the “loving Parent” model because he views God’s sovereignty primarily through the lens of love, rather than through the lens of the divine will. The following passage from Sermon 94, “On Family Religion,” highlighted by Maddox, offers a good conclusion to this discussion. In this context, Wesley us offering parents an example regarding how they should teach their own children about God’s love, using the analogy of their own parental love and care:
But God (though you cannot see him) is above the sky, and is a deal brighter than the sun! It is he that makes the grass green and the flowers grow; that makes the trees green, and the fruit to come upon them! Think what he can do! He can do whatever He pleases. He can strike me or you dead in a moment. But he loves you; he loves to do you good. He loves to make you happy. Should you not then love him! you love me, because I love you and do you good. But it is God that makes me love you. Therefore you should love him (§III.6, emphasis mine).
John Wesley on Predestination
All his life, John Wesley stood within the tradition of English Arminianism, but from the early days of the Methodist revival, his position on predestination became a particularly important and divisive issue. Of course, his relationship with George Whitefield was the background of the controversy, since Whitefield was a staunch Calvinist. While they began their conversations about predestination in private, it wasn’t long before “pamphlet warfare” flared up as each side began to publish sermons and open letters advocating for their positions. Wesley and Whitefield were able to reconcile to a certain extent, but the passionate and fiery debates made their mark on their relationship, and the Methodist movement as a whole.
The history of the controversy, which flared up three times during Wesley’s lifetime, is interesting in and of itself, but in this post I’m not going to go into those details. Rather, I’m going to talk about two key areas of concern that motivated Wesley in his strident defense of the Arminian position, and then offer a basic summary of Wesley’s position.
The first key concern had to do with the character of God. It is a mistake to think that Wesley’s rejection of unconditional election was rooted in an optimistic view of human nature, as opposed to a more robust Calvinist understanding of depravity. Wesley agreed with the historic Calvinist position on total depravity. As Randy Maddox writes,
“the fundamental difference between Wesley and his Calvinist opponents really lies more in their respective understandings of the nature of God than in their evaluation of the human situation.” (Responsible Grace, p. 55-56).
Wesley felt that the idea of absolute unconditional predestination by divine decree was inconsistent with God’s justice, as well as his love and goodness.
This fundamental difference can also be seen in the respective ways in which the Calvinist and Wesleyan traditions have approached the question of divine sovereignty.
Generally speaking, the Calvinist tradition has seen sovereignty through the model of a ruling monarch, whereas Wesley conceived of sovereignty primarily through the model of a loving parent.
The monarch’s power over his subjects is conceived primarily as an exercise of “will,” and hence the fact that some are saved while others are not is explained by recourse to a decision of the divine will for Calvinists. On the other hand, the parent’s power over their children is conceived primarily as an exercise of love, and from this Wesleyan perspective it is inconceivable that a loving parent would eternally decree some of his children to life and others to death.
Wesley’s second key concern related to the character of the Christian life. Wesley worried about the pastoral effect of preaching a Calvinist approach to predestination, feeling that it would lead to antinomianism. If salvation is unconditionally established by an eternal decree, why would any of us concern ourselves with obedience and discipleship?
Wesley felt the Calvinist approach undercut the pursuit of holiness, because the connection between God’s gift and our response is marginalized. In his 1739 sermon, “Free Grace,” which ignited the first round of public controversy with Whitefield, Wesley wrote,
“So directly does this doctrine tend to shut the very gate of holiness in general, to hinder unholy men from ever approaching thereto, or striving to enter thereat.” Sermon 110 [number 128 in the older Jackson numbering], “Free Grace,” §11.
It was on the basis of these two areas of concern that Wesley advocated for his evangelical Arminian position on predestination, which can be outlined in the following six points:
- Total depravity is affirmed by Wesley, meaning that the fallen human being is completely helpless and in bondage to sin. This means, contrary to popular misconception, Wesley does not believe that fallen human beings have an inherent freedom of the will.
- The atonement is universal in scope. Christ’s death was sufficient to atone for the sins of the whole world, not only an elect few, as proposed by five-point Calvinism.
Prevenient grace is universally available to all, restoring a measure of freedom so that the human being can respond to God’s grace. This is how Wesley could affirm that all human persons were free to respond to God’s grace – but note that the freedom which humans possess is a measure of freedom (not libertarian freedom) and is by grace, not an inherent endowment that is retained in fallen humanity.- Grace is resistible and can be rejected, to our own destruction. God is actively drawing all people to himself, but his grace is not coercive.
- Predestination is therefore based on God’s foreknowledge, not his will. That is, God corporately predestines all those who respond in faith to salvation, and by foreknowledge he knows who will respond. His foreknowledge does not cause their response.
- Assurance of salvation is given by the Holy Spirit, who witnesses directly to our adoption as children of God through Christ, and is also confirmed indirectly by the fruit of the Spirit.
Why heresy matters
Salvationist.ca is running a series of articles I wrote for them on heresies in the early church. The print version of the series is already completed (it ran from August to January), but they are rolling out the articles online now.
The point of the series was to describe why these heresies were rejected by the early church, but also to show how the process of struggling with each heresy helped to shape the development of orthodox Christian belief. So I opened the first article by saying,
Believe it or not, Christians owe a lot to heretics. The word “heresy” comes from a Greek word meaning “choice.” A heretic is someone who chooses to believe something that is in contradiction to official church doctrine. But church doctrine has developed gradually over time, and some of the most important doctrinal developments were made precisely in order to exclude particular heresies.
My other agenda in the series was to show the ongoing relevance of ancient heresies, by suggesting ways in which “shadow versions” of each heresy show up repeatedly in the church’s life.
Knowing the history of heresy is important because heresies have a habit of cropping up again and again, sometimes in less obvious forms. Some psychologists argue that otherwise mentally healthy people struggle with so-called “shadow disorders”—mild forms of serious mental illnesses that show up in subtle ways most of us wouldn’t even recognize. Knowing the history of heresy will help us to identify the “shadow heresies” that may crop up in our own thinking and teaching from time to time.
While I think the study of heresy is very important, addressing heresy in the contemporary church can be a tricky issue, particularly in light of the wide diversity that exists within Christian theology today. On the one hand, as I’ve suggested before, no one wants unlimited diversity of belief in the church, even though it is trendy in our culture to celebrate “diversity” in all its forms. On the other hand, some people are too paranoid about heresy, and end up finding heretics lurking behind every corner.
For my part, I tried in this series to point out that early church heresies were excluded because they were perceived to pose a threat to the preaching of the gospel. These were not merely academic debates, but part of the church’s ongoing struggle to remain faithful to Jesus Christ and to proclaim salvation truthfully.
These are very short articles, and I’ll confess that I often found it difficult to do justice to the issues at stake in such a short space. If you are looking for theological nuance, you won’t find it in this series. However, if you’re looking for a brief overview of early church heresies along with some comment on their ongoing relevance, I think you’ll find the series worth your time.
Head over to Salvationist.ca and you can read the introductory article, “Thank God for Heretics,” along with the articles on Pelagianism and Monophysitism. I’ll add links here to the articles on Gnosticism, Modalism, and Arianism as they are posted.
Why “developing a personal relationship with Jesus” might be a bad idea
One of the most common catchphrases you will hear in evangelical Christian circles is “developing a personal relationship with Jesus.” It’s a phrase that gets used often as a way to underscore the importance of having a living faith, rather than a faith that is merely based on assent to certain ideas, or participation in certain church practices. Often it seems, in my experience, that “buidling a personal relationship with Jesus” is the proposed solution to innumerable problems and challenges facing Christians today.
I’m a little bit skeptical of the phrase, because, for starters, I’m skeptical of anything that is proposed as solution for all my problems. Secondly, I wonder what people mean when they talk about a “personal relationship with Jesus.” The phrase is so over-used that I think people don’t stop to think about what they are saying.
When most people talk about their “personal relationship” with Jesus, it seems to imply something like a relationship between two best friends. Often “developing your personal relationship” means “spending time” with Jesus in prayer and personal Bible study. For most people I think they see this as kind of like having some “getting to know you” time with God.
If this is a true reflection of what evangelicals mean by “developing a personal relationship with Jesus,” I think it can be problematic.
I worry that evangelicals can let a kind of “works righteousness” in through the back door by placing so much emphasis on personal devotion. It seems to cast the relationship in a rather one-sided way; it seems it’s up to us to “develop” a relationship with God. I think the gospel says something quite different: God reaches out and establishes a relationship with us, even while we are rebellious sinners who don’t care at all about him. If our relationship with God is based on whatever we have “developed,” I think we’re in deep trouble. That’s far too shaky a foundation.
I think we need to be clear that we do not put our trust in the relationship we have developed with Jesus – our trust is in Jesus himself. This is another way of saying, we don’t trust our trust, because this comes at the question from the human side, and can end up leaving the impression that our relationship is something we develop and contribute to salvation. Faith is more radically outward-focused than that. We trust in Christ alone. We bring nothing to the table, even if we’ve been a Christian for decades.
So, to have “personal” faith is not so much about being on familiar terms with Jesus, in the way we might conceive of a personal relationship which develops between friends (although trusting in Christ alone will likely lead towards something like that over time); it is personal because we, as persons, trust in the person of Christ.
If our personal relationship with Christ “develops,” it’s not so much that we develop it, but that it develops in us by the Spirit as we put our trust daily in Christ alone – that is, as we continue to trust that Christ will be faithful to us, even as our meagre devotion to him remains tainted by sin.
So, I think, if I was to use this over-used phrase, I would want to be very clear that the personal relationship we have with Jesus is the fruit of our outwardly-focused trust in the person of Christ, rather than the foundation. This is a subtle distinction, but I think it is an important one.
James Pedlar 