Setting up the Sheep for Heresy

For reasons too complex to detail here, I have lately been thinking about the twin phenomena of evangelical homosexuality and egalitarianism. For the uninitiated, these doctrines wish to maintain the essentials of the Christian faith, such as salvation through Christ alone and Biblical authority, while at the same time denying historic teachings of the Church. The former says homosexuality is not a sin, and the latter calls male headship in the home and Church a sin.
I call these movements “twins” because they tend to use Scripture in similar ways. Again and again in the literature advocating one or the other position, I read something like the following: “Yes, this passage appears to teach male headship/the sinfulness of homosexuality. But if you look at the Hebrew/Greek, you will see that this word ‘x’ really means ‘y.’ Also, in Ephesian/Canaanite society, cultic male prostitution/male chauvinism was common. This passage deals with that specific situation and must not be applied arbitrarily to our modern culture, which is quite different. The real application of this passage is that Christians should be nice to each other/not sleep around.” In other words, the text in the original language, interpreted in its cultural/historical context, teaches something quite different from what one might conclude when reading one’s English translation. The layman must depend upon the expert and cannot interact critically with his/her conclusions.
To my ears, this type of teaching sounds eerily familiar. In fact, I imagine anyone who has sat under evangelical preaching recognizes it. We regularly hear seminary-trained pastors say from the pulpit, “The Greek word for ‘love’ Paul uses here is ‘agape,’ which means more than just ‘love.’ It means a completely selfless, totally committed covenantal love! That really spoke to the people in Corinth, a center of commerce where the culture was greedy and selfish.” Over the years, believers learn much more is going on in a text than they could ever get from studying their English Bibles. For many Christians, it’s not a good sermon unless the preacher tells them something they never would have gotten on their own.
Now, I happen to be a seminary-trained pastor. Not only that, I translate from the original language every text I preach, and wrestle as much as any with the difficulty of making complex texts understandable to my congregation. With the rest of my presbyterian tradition, I value the necessity of an educated clergy. But as a Presbyterian elder, I am sworn to uphold the Westminster Confession of Faith, which teaches in chapter 1, “All things in Scripture are not alike plain in themselves, nor alike clear unto all: yet those things which are necessary to be known, believed, and observed for salvation are so clearly propounded, and opened in some place of Scripture or other, that not only the learned, but the unlearned, in a due use of the ordinary means, may obtain unto a sufficient understanding of them.”
Preaching does more than proclaim the truths of Scripture; it models how those truths are discovered. When pastors throw around Greek and Hebrew week after week, their congregations learn they cannot “obtain to a sufficient understanding” of even the most basic things of Scripture unless they’ve studied dead languages and ancient history. “Lovingkindness” makes perfect sense to even the smallest child, but we’ve got to say “chesed.” This tendency to speak in dead tongues, found all too frequently in Presbyterian and Reformed pulpits, tells “the unlearned” the Word of God is not clear to them, and so undermines their trust in the Bibles in their hands.
If this happens with such a simple and essential Biblical concept as love, we can hardly have good hopes for other teachings of the faith. Male headship and the sinfulness of homosexuality are hardly obscure points of doctrine; they’re both right in Genesis 1! But when scholars explain 1 Corinthians 11 doesn’t mean what it says, the average Christian is unequipped to provide a response. He may scratch his head and say, “I can’t see that in the passage,” but he’s learned that must mean it’s true! By telling listeners to believe the text teaches a doctrine without equipping them to find it there for themselves, standard evangelical preaching sets up the sheep to embrace heresy. We should not be surprised many evangelical Christians accept egalitarianism as a matter of course. Will homosexuality soon follow?
We Presbyterians properly ground ourselves in the Protestant Reformation and have for a slogan, “Reformed and always reforming.” Biblical reformation begins with the heart, and even pastors must search theirs. Speaking now to fellow ministers, we must remember that, like all other believers, we are a prideful lot. We easily fall prey to the temptation to show off, to impress those under our care, to be served by their admiration instead of serving by bringing them into the riches of God’s Word. Brothers, I own a couple lexicons myself, and “love” means… well, it means “love.” As with every other word in any language, its use in a particular phrase is conditioned as much by context as etymology. Teach your people how to read that context, and they’ll be able to understand the words of Scripture even when you’re not around.
Of course, most Church members have a pride which mirrors their pastor’s. Many come to services each Sunday not to worship, but to hear “the real deal,” the latest doctrine which is different from what all those second-class Christians in their not-as-reformed-as-us congregations believe. They want to hear those meaningless Greek and Hebrew syllables which give them imaginary insight into the text. Accordingly, they are puffed up instead of being driven down to their knees in adoration of the God who speaks to them so plainly and convictingly in the Bible.
The original languages have a place in the regular life of the congregation, as do theological and confessional jargon. It’s during Bible studies, where there’s opportunity to use exegetical tools thoughtfully and carefully, where people have a chance to respond, ask questions, and make sure they themselves can explain what the study leader is teaching. From the pulpit we must plainly declare God’s Word, and we should do so in a way which honors our spiritual fathers of the Protestant Reformation who died to bring the people Bibles in their own languages.
We will do just about anything to hold onto our idols. I’ve known more than one Christian ensnared by egalitarianism or “evangelical” homosexuality. It’s easy to buy into these movements because they remove the necessity of repentance, submitting oneself entirely to God’s will, and changing one’s heart. Pastors and Bible teachers often fail in precisely this regard by describing their boasting as a “teaching ministry.” We all must turn anew to God’s Word. We all must submit ourselves to the Bible and find ourselves renewed, in heart and life, by the Spirit of Christ who speaks through it.

December 30, 2007 sermons

This Lord's Day, I'll be preaching on Matthew 2:13-23 ("Out of Egypt") at 11 a.m., and Isaiah 27 ("Let Him Make Peace with Me") at 5 p.m.

On Christmastide & Epiphany

The twelve days of Christmas do not exist only in a song designed to become increasingly (and inevitably) annoying, but are in fact a season in the Church calendar. Christmas Day, December 25, marks the season’s beginning; it lasts twelve days, through January 5. As everyone knows, Christmas celebrates the birth of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. Christmastide, and the one or two Lord’s Days it includes, focuses on the significance of the Incarnation. It gives us an opportunity to reflect on the awesome fact that the Son of God Himself, Lord of Heaven and earth, became a man and lived the same sort of life we all do. Twelve days is a passingly short time to meditate on one of the most wondrous events in history.
January 6 marks Epiphany (meaning “manifestation”). It takes the visit of the magi to Jesus (Matthew 2) as the beginning of Christ being revealed to the world. The Sundays after Epiphany thus focus on the beginnings of Jesus’ earthly ministry, the period during which he became known throughout Galilee and Judea.
Christmastide and Epiphany are linked because the former celebrates the arrival of God as a man in the world he created, and the latter explores the meaning of that event. They give us the opportunity, as Christians, to consider the supernatural and awesome reality of our Gospel: not only did the infinite God become a finite man, and one in the most humble of circumstances, he did so in order to save us from our sins and lift us up into the heavenly glory which is rightfully only his, but ours by his grace and mercy.

On Advent

As we begin observing the Church calendar, session has asked me to prepare a series of pastoral letters explaining the significance of each season. We begin with Advent; while the word itself means “arrival,” the season itself focuses on preparing for the arrival of the Son of God in Jesus, celebrated at Christmastide. Advent thus includes the four Sundays leading up to Christmas, beginning this year on December 2, 2007.
It takes but a moment of reflection to realize that in the Bible, Jesus does not come only once. We think of his birth as his First Coming, but he arrived on the public scene (as it were) for the first time when he was baptized by John; this event marked the beginning of his public ministry. Moreover, we live in hope of his Second Coming, when he will come to judge the living and the dead. Thus, Advent does not merely focus on Christ’s birth, but on all the Bible has to teach us about what his coming to the world and to his people means. This fact is reflected in this year’s Gospel texts for Advent.
Matthew 26:36-44 Christ’s Second Coming
Matthew 3:1-12 John the Baptist preparing the way for Jesus Christ
Matthew 11:2-11 The natures of Jesus as Messiah, and of his Kingdom
Matthew 1:18-25 The birth of Jesus, Emmanuel
The Spiritual themes of Advent are thus complex and multifaceted. Sober reflection and repentance are the natural response to the arrival of the Lord and Judge of all. One must earnestly strive to live according to the demands of Christ’s Kingdom, made all the more difficult when the world has made this time of year a frenzied celebration of those things which are passing away. Joy fills the believer’s heart at the realization that all the promises of God contained in the Old Testament have come and are coming to pass in the person of Jesus Christ. These themes are not at odds or in competition with one another, but all come together as aspects of the Christian’s hope in this world. In my opinion, the hymn which best represents the full scope of Advent is O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.
Perhaps you could sing that hymn, along with others found in the Trinity Hymnal’s “Advent” section, in your times of family worship. Use this season of the Church calendar to search the Scriptures and meditate on the glorious fact that the long-promised Christ and Savior has come and is coming.

The Judgments of the Lord

If National Public Radio is a reliable barometer of culture, the question of reparations to descendants of slaves continues to be a hot debate amongst our nation’s intelligentsia. The argument for reparations goes something like this: African-Americans, as a class of persons, were set back economically and socially by chattel slavery. The descendants of slaves, therefore, should receive a financial settlement which would enable them to attain the status they might otherwise have had. The argument against points out the near-impossibility of determining who ought to pay whom, and questions the obligation of the current generation to pay for crimes in which they had no part.

In formulating a response, let us make several stipulations.
 1) Chattel slavery, as practiced in the United States of old and around the world today, is the Biblical sin of man-stealing (Deuteronomy 24:7), and therefore a crime worthy of criminal and civil punishment.
 2) Reparation is a Biblically appropriate punishment for theft (Exodus 22:1).
 3) Paying financial reparations to descendants of slaves today would almost certainly create new injustices, not least that of visiting the sins of the father on the son (Ezekiel 18). What, then, ought we as a nation do? Abraham Lincoln addressed the issue in his Second Inaugural Address:

…The Almighty has His own purposes. “Woe unto the world because of offences! For it must needs be that offences come; but woe to that man by whom the offence cometh!” If we shall suppose that American Slavery is one of those offences which, in the providence of God, must needs come, but which, having continued through His appointed time, He now wills to remove, and that He gives to both North and South, this terrible war, as the woe due to those by whom the offence came, shall we discern therein any departure from those divine attributes which the believers in a Living God always ascribe to Him? Fondly do we hope- fervently do we pray- that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God will that it continue, until all the wealth piled by the bond-man’s two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash, shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said, “the judgments of the Lord, are true and righteous altogether.”

According to President Lincoln, reparations have already been exacted by the Lord through the terrible war he visited on these United States. Why have his words been ignored in the current debate? Because those who argue for reparations, indeed, because even we Presbyterians who confess God’s sovereignty over history, have forgotten that the God who poured out His wrath on his Son in space and time in order to redeem His beloved people also visits His righteous judgments upon sinners in space and time. He has done so since He laid the foundations of the world, and will do so until and on the Last Day. When we forget this, we begin worrying, fretting justice will not be done, sin never be redressed. We act as though God does not exist, and we must do His work ourselves.

Abraham Lincoln understood history is theocentric. The Lord of the heavens is Lord of history, working all events to his good purposes. He calls us to see His hand at work in the world, and not only to be content, but to rejoice in all He has done. “The judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.” (Psalm 19:9)

On Charity

While preaching through 1 Corinthians, I was struck by chapters eight through ten. There, the Apostle Paul addresses idolatry. Apparently, some in the Corinthian Church had taken to attending feasts to the idols in their temples; that is, they were participating in pagan worship services. They had somehow convinced themselves that since idols were not really gods, their worship services were meaningless; thus; a Christian could attend without compromising his confession (1 Corinthians 8:4-8). Indeed, such attendance was proof of Christian maturity, since it showed one fully grasped the doctrine of monotheism and accordingly had no fear of false gods. Those who went to the idol feasts were, in their own estimation, the strong, and those who stayed away the weak.
Unsurprisingly, Paul condemns this thinking most vigorously. After all, the Second Commandment says “You shall not make for yourself a carved image- any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth; you shall not bow down to them nor serve them.” (Exodus 20:4-5) There’s no exception clause in the Second Commandment. It doesn’t go on to say “But feel free to bow down to carved images as long as you maintain a mental reservation noting idols aren’t really gods at all, but only pieces of carved rock.” Worse still, Paul adds, idol feasts are in fact demon sacraments (1 Corinthians 10:14-21). As the Lord Supper Spiritually (that is, by the work of the Holy Spirit) joins us to Christ, so idol feasts spiritually unite one with demons. Participation in idol feasts is essentially a denial of one’s Christian confession: “You cannot drink the cup of the Lord and the cup of demons: you cannot partake of the Lord’s table and of the table of demons.” (1 Corinthians 10:21)
But what fascinates me is how Paul waits until chapter ten to make this point. He begins his condemnation of the Corinthian practice in chapter eight by showing how the “strong,” who can make the mental reservations which permit them to attend the idol feasts, lead the “weak,” who can’t, into sincerely worshipping a false god. In fact, if all we had to go on was 1 Corinthians 8, we might well conclude participation in idol feasts contains no inherent sin, and is to be avoided only when it might compromise a brother’s conscience.
Our doctrine is clear: idol worship is a terrible sin. But Paul doesn’t begin with doctrine. He begins with charity. He exhorts the Corinthians to love their brothers by refraining from idol feasts in chapter eight. In chapter nine he defends his apostolic authority, not to instruct them on the Second Commandment, but to command them to forsake their sin of pride. The “strong” Corinthians are proud of their conduct only because they do not love their brethren more than themselves. Paul’s logic: What’s the point of teaching the Corinthians right doctrine if they’re not seeking to apply what they already know with love? Knowledge without love is worse than useless; it can kill the weaker brother, for whom Christ died (1 Corinthians 8:11). “We know that we all have knowledge. Knowledge puffs up, but love edifies.” (1 Corinthians 8:1)
We Orthodox Presbyterians are very careful about our doctrine, and are rightfully wary of those who pit love against doctrine. Indeed, the liberals in the old Presbyterian Church U.S.A. rallied under the banner of “love” so they could uncharitably persecute the orthodox in their midst. Paul himself insisted on correcting the doctrinal error of the “strong” Corinthians who thought idol feasts proof of their great knowledge. Still, we err whenever we think right doctrine sufficient in itself. Our doctrine, however right it may be, is worse than useless if not clothed in love. Love, not doctrine, is the chief Christian virtue, and love is always an identifying characteristic of the true Church. When we begin with love for our brethren, our knowledge will not puff up, but edify. Love enables us to use our right doctrine for the good of our brethren, in imitation of our Lord Jesus Christ, the incarnation of truth, who first loved us, and who will always love us.
“Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known. And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.” (1 Corinthians 13:12-13)

Fear Not

My essay Fear Not is the cover story of the December 2007 issue of New Horizons in the Orthodox Presbyterian Church.  You can read it online at http://www.opc.org/nh.html?article_id=529.

The Anxious Bench Triumphant

To oversimplify tremendously, Christianity in this country can be divided into three distinct groups:  Roman Catholicism, high-church protestantism (such as the Lutherans and Episcopalians), and American Christianity.  American Christians are easily identified as those who take it as a matter of course that the U.S. flag will be at the front of the sanctuary.  They tend to view high-church protestantism as dangerously  close to Roman Catholicism.  This is not just because their pastors wear collars;  high-church Protestantism is marked by formalism, by which I mean a reliance on forms in worship and Church life.  That is, they keep the Church calendar, have set liturgies, baptize babies, and generally expect Church life to follow set patterns.  American Christians, by way of contrast, emphasize inner spiritual experience and disdain formalism as mere outward religion.  They tend to doubt high-church protestants are really Christian, although usually they will charitably allow the possibility.

Given those classifications, most conservative presbyterians today would identify themselves as American Christians.  They are evangelicals who believe in a Calvinistic soteriology which they expect to be manifested in their own and others’ lives through moving personal experiences.  As such, they are something other than presbyterian.

In 1843, J.W. Nevin, a German Reformed (in other words, a presbyterian for all practical purposes) Church historian, published The Anxious Bench, a polemic tract against the “New Measures” being advocated in his day.  The New Measures were methods for conducting revival meetings so as to produce conversions;  many would be familiar to us today.  He took the anxious bench as representative of the whole system of the New Measures.  It functioned much like the altar call:  those who felt a stirring were encouraged to come forward in order to have a conversion experience.

Nevin argued “that the measure is adapted to obstruct rather than to promote the progress of true godliness, and that it deserves to be discouraged on this account.”  Indeed, he believed revivalism’s emphasis on a momentary experience (the instant of conversion) would at best produce immature believers, easily buffeted by life’s travails.  In opposition to the Anxious Bench, he commended “the Catechism.”  By this term, he did not mean simply or even primarily catechetical memorization, but more generally a life of piety grounded in the ordinary means of grace mediated through corporate worship and the regular discipline of the Church, as regulated by Scripture.  “Catechism” is a fit antonym to “Anxious Bench” because the latter expects lives to change instantaneously, while the former expects the Spirit to sanctify slowly and steadily.  Thus, both are not simply systems of doctrine, but ways of being Christian which produce distinct Church cultures.

Nevin was of course not recommending an innovation, but adherence to the practices common to the reformed and presbyterian Churches for centuries.  The Anxious Bench  conveys a tone of great urgency because Nevin feared the Catechism would be usurped by the New Measures, resulting in a spiritual shipwreck for his German Churches in particular and protestantism in general.  Thus, he ended his tract by warning “It must be ever a wretched choice, when the Bench is preferred to the Catechism.”

We live in the aftermath of that wretched choice.  Some 160 years after Nevin wrote, conservative presbyterians look more to youth programs than the sacraments to build up their faith.  The Shorter Catechism, after the first question, is largely unknown.  When baptized children make profession of faith, we speak of them “joining the Church” as though they previously had been outside the Church, as though their baptisms availed them nothing.  We expect the Spirit might do great things in revivals, but little (if anything) through Sunday morning services.  In sum, the Anxious Bench has triumphed.

Curiously, the Catechism has not entirely disappeared from American presbyterianism.  It is still maintained to a large extent in the liberal Presbyterian Church U.S.A.  While they tend not to make use of the Westminster Shorter Catechism itself, their Church life is marked by use of the ordinary means of grace and very, very little on anything like revivals.  

As time progresses, the Catechism in their circles is being turned into a liberal catechism;  there is no good thing immune to decay and corruption when put in the charge of decadent and corrupt persons.  However, I grew up in the 1970s and 80s, when the liberals had long ago seized power but had not yet completely worked their heresies into the fabric of Church life.  There was little if any clear proclamation of the Gospel itself, but by osmosis I learned the major themes and events of the Bible and life of Christ.  Long before I entered seminary, I knew, on what is for all practical purposes an instinctive level, that Pentecost is as important for the life of the Church as the Incarnation and the Resurrection.

In other words, the ordinary means of grace are remarkably efficacious.  I did not believe the Gospel until I was seventeen.  But thereafter, I slowly discovered that the Holy Spirit had over those long years taught me how to be a Christian.  By God’s grace and the tattered remnants of the Catechism, I was inoculated against the excesses and just-plain-weirdness which caught up so many of my friends in the evangelical circles in which I lived immediately after my conversion.

Here I would like to say I found my way home to conservative presbyterianism and the faithful Catechism.  In a sense I did, but they exist almost entirely in books, not the life of the Church.  In the twentieth century wars against liberalism, the fundamental truths of Scripture and the Gospel were saved.  However, the Catechism suffered serious collateral damage, and so I question how distinct we really are from our allies in that war, the fundamentalists.  Too often, it seems to me we are fundamentalists who practice Christian liberty, not presbyterians who are unflinchingly committed to the ordinary means of grace.  

Ironically, the Westminster Shorter Catechism itself (or rather, the way it is commonly used) may be undermining the Catechism, the way of Church life for which Nevin fought.  In many conservative presbyterian circles, right doctrine has become the be-all and end-all of Christian life;  the better one’s theology, the more spiritually mature one must be.  In this environment, the Shorter Catechism does not inculcate one into Nevin’s Catechism;  it encourages one to rely upon something other than the ordinary means of grace.

Thus, even some of the most adamant advocates of the reformed confessions have drifted away from the Church life those marvelous documents commend.  Having lost the Catechism and the distinctive and separate culture it produces, many presbyterian Churches have American flags in their sanctuaries.

Having said all that, I cannot forget the profound sense of alienation which grips me whenever I attend a conference geared toward an evangelical non-denominational audience.  For all their hostility toward formalism, they fluidly rattle off set phrases (such as “stand in the gap,” whatever that means) and make theological assumptions (such as equating “worship” with singing a few songs) which raise nary an eyebrow.  In conversation, I am careful not to employ the language of the Catechism lest I receive blank stares and get the clear impression the credibility of my profession is in doubt.  

My discomfort in these environments is not uncommon amongst conservative presbyterians, I’m sure.  The Catechism may be weak and dying in our Churches, but it has not lost its grip on us yet.  Whatever we are, we are not (entirely) American Christians.

This is a good thing, I think.  Some are concerned the Catechism makes it difficult for us to communicate with the evangelical world.  On the other hand, it facilitates dialogue with conservative Lutherans and Episcopalians, traditions which have largely kept in better touch with their own practice of the Catechism.  In our present-day ecclesiastical tower of Babel, we ought always remember that in choosing one language, we exclude the speakers of another.  I, for one, am not confident it is good to turn away from those who speak the Catechism in order to sound like those who never learned it.

Rather, I hope we can relearn the Catechism for ourselves and our children.  As Nevin says, “I mean of course not the Catechism as a mere deed form, …[but] the living Catechism, the Catechism awakened and active….”  I hope we can teach this Catechism to those who yearn for an experiential religion grounded in the mundane faithfulness of Christ mediated by his Holy Spirit through the ordinary means of grace.  I hope and pray the Anxious Bench, by God’s grace, will be overthrown completely and finally not only in our presbyterian Churches, but in all the Churches of Christ.  I pray we might reverse our wretched choice and witness the triumph of the Catechism over American Christianity.

In other words, I pray for presbyterianism.