Something that dismays me is the common confusion between “Christian orthodoxy” and “fundamentalism.” There are probably many reasons for it, but I think the common one (among Christians, anyway) is that people “burned” by fundamentalism run from orthodoxy due to an over reaction. Some people I know almost break out in hives when they hear “orthodoxy” used in a positive, prescriptive way–as in “There are certain beliefs that are normative for all Christians.” They can only hear that as fundamentalism. The result is a kind of Christian cognitive relativism that reduces “Christianity” to warm fuzzy feelings or ethical behavior divorced from doctrine. But from its very beginnings Christianity included (not reduced itself to) certain basic beliefs. These are spelled out in the early Christian fathers’ “rules of faith” (Irenaeus and Tertullian most notably among them).
What are the differences?
Fuller Seminary president E. J. Carnell (1950s) famously quipped that “Fundamentalism is orthodoxy gone cultic.” (The Case for Orthodox Theology) Of course, that by itself doesn’t go very far toward delineating the differences. So I’ll try to do that here.
Orthodoxy is belief in the universal doctrines (dogmas) of Christianity rooted in Scripture and commonly held and taught by all the church fathers and Reformers. They are what author Gary Tyra (in Toward a Missional Orthodoxy) calls the “Christological verities.” They include the deity and humanity of Jesus Christ (incarnation of God), Trinity, salvation through Christ and his cross, and salvation by grace alone.
Fundamentalism is (among other things): adding secondary and even tertiary beliefs to basic Christian orthodoxy as NECESSARY for authentic Christian identity (e.g., premillennialism, biblical inerrancy, young earth creationism), insisting that salvation depends on belief in a long list of doctrines including ones NOT PART OF basic Christian orthodoxy, and refusing Christian fellowship with other Christians who are “doctrinally polluted” or “doctrinally impure” because they do not believe everything on the fundamentalists’ long list of essential doctrines.
So Where's the Confusion?
Anyone should be able to see the difference between Christian orthodoxy and fundamentalism. But confusion arises BECAUSE so many fundamentalists are influential in conservative Christian circles and cause confusion by claiming their long list of doctrines as identical with Christian orthodoxy. And even some moderately conservative evangelical theologians contribute to the problem by labeling any belief espoused by fellow Christians that they happen to disagree with as “heterodox” which means “not quite heresy but for all practical purposes heresy anyway.”
This habit of fundamentalists and conservative evangelicals to expand the list of orthodox doctrines to include secondary beliefs and exclude anything they strongly disagree with contributes to many moderate evangelicals confusing “orthodoxy” with “fundamentalism” and running from the former out of (right) fear of the latter.
We moderate to progressive evangelicals need to embrace classical Christian orthodoxy BECAUSE it is biblical (not for its own sake as if it were true independently of Scripture). We need to call out fellow evangelicals who either:
1) expand “orthodoxy” beyond its proper scope to include their pet doctrines, or 2) reject orthodoxy because they confuse it with fundamentalism.
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As long as we're on the subject of dogmatic differences let's throw in emergent Christianity as well which is a recent development amongst evangelical churches wishing to reverse the stress on "right beliefs" (orthodoxy) to a stress on "right behavior" (orthopraxy). This isn't necessarily bad because it leads out with a soulful heart convicted by the Holy Spirit into the Christian practices of love and grace, forgiveness and healing, hope and strength, ministry and outreach. However, as Dr. Olson will note below, Christian doctrine must lead all while also acknowledging that mere head knowledge without WORKS of faith is empty head knowledge leading to (or revealing) an unsanctified (if not lost) heart. Hence, having participated in an emergent mega-church and witnessing the vast multitudes of people coming through its doors to there find spiritual healing was a blessing too manifest to behold. Here were broken, lost souls desperate for God and fellowship, love and grace, inner peace, and personal fortitude, against a life full of pain and suffering, remits and regrets, torn fellowships, toxic addictions, harmful dependencies, and broken relationships. And there finding all the Christian graces in spades through an emergent church which had lowered its dogmatic barriers so all may enter who wished. Without reprisal, gossip, or graceless convention. A place that offered spiritual healing and safety. A place that protected its congregants against the harsh speech of surrounding churches. A place where God's love could be sought and found. A place that held ONE communion table (or Eucharist). ONE fellowship with full equality. And ONE spirit of grace toward all (although voting did require membership by the swipe of a pen to paper and nothing more.... Even so, active participation in a small group fellowship or church outreach ministry is continually encouraged). But there was also found a fellowship that taught the doctrines of the bible - or, in this case, giving to those well-known orthodox doctrines an emergent perspective. Such as allowing women into active leadership. An open communion table without a membership requirement. An appreciation for Christianity's Jewishness. An open Bible and open faith. Preaching God's love to all, as they are, whomever they are. And, a Jesus-centric faith. Through all, in all, and over all, the Spirit of the Lord reigned and wrought great miracles. It was revival at its finest. Intoxicating and life changing. And it unnerved the conservative evangelical churches in the area. Now whether "belonging" was a high priority on the list of fellowship requirements I cannot say. But as a progressive evangelical become an emergent Christian (and now a post-evangelical as emergent Christianity begins to fade away), I had there observed this emergent (or progressive evangelical) church spending each Sunday morning in 25/30 minutes in worship and another 50 minutes teaching the Bible even as it continues to do so today. It was exhibiting all the consequential behaviors and elements of belongingness (if that's a word). The front doors were wide open to all who would enter. The barriers lowered or removed as much as could be possible. And a place of spiritual ministry and healing could be found abundantly. It was a Holy Spirit place of sanctuary. Of worship. Of gathering. Of fellowship. And of ministry. And it was of God and God ordained, blessed, and Spirit-breathed. It was where you would want to be to find healing and re-energizing back into the folds of the world to serve and to witness through a sacrificial life and loving heart and mind. Hence, the task here at Relevancy22 is one of continuing the traditions of Christian orthodoxy both in doctrine and in practice, but in a post-evangelical sense of renewal and revival. We here believe that it is important to divide God's Word aright while importantly distinguishing where a dogma or religious belief departs from that understanding. Especially so because too many Christians today come in with so very little Christian background requiring teaching and training. Hopefully Relevancy22 provides a starting point to those lives ungrounded in biblical thought and spiritual reflection. And it is left to you the reader to think through any salient points which may be helpful to your life, witness, ministry, and outreach. Now may the Lord bless you and keep you as He leads you forward by His love and grace into a holy service unto a broken world needing His Son and divine love. R.E. Slater April 4, 2014
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“Belong, Believe, Behave?” Or “Believe, Behave, Belong?”
I’m not sure who first suggested the idea, but some years ago someone associated with the “emerging church” movement said that churches need to move from a policy of requiring right belief and right living for belonging to offering belonging followed by believing and behaving. For some postevangelical Christians this has become a hallmark of the difference between emerging (or emergent) churches and traditional evangelical churches.
While I sympathize with the impulse behind “belong, believe, behave,” which is, I assume [means], inclusion over exclusion, I also have some qualms about the policy. I fear it can, and often does, lead to one of two problems. First, the church may drop belief altogether and permit doctrinal pluralism so that everyone believes differently and there is no real cognitive content to the church’s Christianity. In that case, the church would seem to be little more than a cozy club of people who like each other or, at the most, together look fondly upon a cross without any agreement about what it stands for. Second, insofar as the church holds onto some semblance of orthodox doctrine (however defined), it may relegate full belonging to a small coterie of leaders who must believe and behave first and then belong.
Important to deciding about this is defining “belong,” “believe,” and “behave.” What does it mean to belong? What does believe include? What does it mean to behave?
In most “traditional” evangelical churches (setting aside fundamentalist ones), “belonging” means membership. And not everyone who wishes can join in that sense—of possessing the status of full member. Many traditional evangelical churches have some category like “associate membership”—whether called that or not—for people who do not fit the criteria for full membership but are considered to belong to the community anyway. But only full members can vote on church business and serve as officers of the church. Full membership, in such churches, usually requires some belief and some behavior.
Is it possible to “belong” to such a church without conforming fully to the criteria of belief and behavior? Yes, in most cases. I know a man, for example, who honestly expressed some doubts about his new church’s doctrinal and ethical standards for membership. He attended and participated long enough for the church to recognize him as belonging without membership. The church came to see the depth of his Christian faith and commitment and embraced him with the exception that he cannot vote on church business or serve as an officer of the church.
I’m not sure what “belong, believe, behave” means if not that or something like that. And yet it seems to me that is a very common practical policy (as opposed to written down policy) among traditional evangelical churches.
On the other hand, if the man mentioned above openly declared that he did not believe in the church’s core doctrines and would speak against them, the church would be well within its rights to exclude him (in all matters other than allowing him to attend public worship services).
Sometimes I think that “belong, believe, behave” is an overreaction to sectarian fundamentalism—churches that really do exclude people who don’t conform to a long list of criteria for membership. I don’t think that’s typical traditional evangelical church life, though.
Unfortunately, in my experience, some emerging/emergent churches have dropped any doctrinal standards or criteria for membership other than (perhaps) church pastoral staff. And some have dropped them even for pastoral staff.
Now let’s turn to the words “believing” and “behaving.” Does any Christian church really practice belonging in the full sense without any expectations of believing and behaving? I would ask churches that say they do to tell me what they would do if an openly racist person (e.g., a white supremacist) started attending and wanted to belong (in whatever way that church defines “belonging”). Would they embrace the person as truly and fully belonging without conditions—such as changing his or her beliefs and behavior about minorities? Or does “believing” and “behaving” just mean persons who wish to belong do not have to have a full understanding beyond doubt or question about orthodox doctrines and struggle with some temptation into which they occasionally fall? If the latter, then, in my experience, most traditional evangelical churches accept people like that.
Again (as I’ve said about many things here before), it seems to me that the “belong, believe, behave” approach is largely an overreaction to sectarian fundamentalism in which people have to at least pretend to believe in a long list of doctrines without mental reservations and live a perfect life in terms of traditional (especially sexual) morality. If the idea that we are all flawed people is what “belong, believe, behave” means, then I am fully on board the policy. But if it means dropping all expectations and criteria for full membership, then I doubt any church actually does that (even if they claim to), and I would oppose it.
So, to get more specific and practical: What should a Christian church require for “belonging” in the full sense of church membership (including holding office and/or teaching)? At minimum a Christian church should require members to believe in (if not fully understand) the doctrines of the incarnation (deity and humanity of Christ) and Trinity. I would add also belief that all people stand in need of salvation which is by grace alone by faith and cannot be earned. In addition, members should affirm that Jesus is the risen Lord who left the tomb empty, lives forever more and will return in glory.
What should a church require for “behaving?” At minimum, a Christian church should require members to affirm repentance for sin and desire to live a Christ like life with the help of the Holy Spirit and the community of God’s people. The person should be baptized in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit or in the name of Jesus Christ.
Anyone who cannot affirm those beliefs (even with mental reservations) and desire to live that kind of life should not be given full membership in any Christian church. However, that is not to say they cannot belong in some sense of the word, depending on whether they are perceived to be moving in the right direction. A person who flagrantly denies those beliefs and rejects repentance and living a Christ like life should not even be allowed to think he or she “belongs” (even as they are allowed to attend).
That is probably the question I’m asked most often when I talk about the “new Calvinism” that has swept up thousands of Christian young people in the last twenty to thirty years. There’s no doubt this has been and is a religious phenomenon. Most recently even the New York Times has taken notice; a few years ago Time magazine mentioned it as one of ten great ideas changing the world. Everyone seems to be talking about it even though it’s not exactly new.
I first became aware of the Young, Restless, Reformed Movement (YRRM) before anyone thought to give it that moniker. I was teaching theology at Baptist-related Bethel College and Seminary (now Bethel University) in Minnesota. John Piper had left the faculty to take the pulpit at nearby Bethlehem Baptist Church about a year before I arrived. He was still much discussed by students and faculty alike and seemed to have been a polarizing figure on campus. People tended either to love him or despise him. I had read his article about “Christian Hedonism” in HIS magazine (the now defunct publication of the InterVarsity Christian Fellowship) before then and had met Piper when I first visited Bethel a few years before joining its faculty. (I still have that article in my files! I tore it out of the issue thinking maybe someday it would be important to have. Little did I know….)
Not long after taking my teaching position at Bethel I began to hear colleagues calling certain students (mostly males) “Piper Cubs.” It wasn’t long before I could identify them myself. They tended to quote Piper a lot and be passionate about Calvinism. One told me I wasn’t a Christian because I wasn’t a Calvinist!
Over the following years (approximately 1984 to 1999) I witnessed the beginnings of the YRRM. It was born and then grew and coalesced around Piper’s pastoral conferences at Bethlehem Baptist Church. Sure, there were other champions of “Reformed theology” among conservative evangelicals. Among them were one of my own seminary professors—James Montgomery Boice, pastor of Tenth Presbyterian Church in Philadelphia. But none seemed to capture the attention and devotion of Piper—especially among the youthful crowd.
Sometime during the 1990s I recognized a parallel, sociologically speaking, between the budding YRRM and an earlier evangelical phenomenon—one I had also witnessed without joining during my seminary and graduate school days. That was the Bill Gothard “Basic Youth Conflicts” seminar movement. Those old enough will remember with me the popularity and passion of that movement. When I was in seminary some students were noted for quoting Gothard and talking enthusiastically about his teachings. It seemed Gothard (and his surrogates and followers) had all the answers to life’s problems and the main one was “God’s chain of command.” Anyone who resisted the message was treated as ignorant or unspiritual (or both).
The Gothard movement grew and spread and was “all the talk” among evangelicals throughout the 1970s and into the 1980s. It finally somewhat fizzled out in the 1990s while leaving a lasting impression and legacy.
One thing I noticed about fellow seminarians and others who followed Gothard and promoted his message as “the solution” for every behavioral problem was their lack of critical thinking. They did not seem open to any criticism, however gentle, of the man or his message. As I watched and listened to them carefully, and often attempted to engage them in dialogue about the Gothard message (which I regarded as overly simplistic if not downright dangerous), I noticed a common tendency to equate Gothard’s message with God’s truth and reject any opportunity to sit back, consider it critically, and question its ultimacy.
It seems to me that many “Gothardites” (all that I met) were reluctant to think for themselves; they seemed to need someone like Gothard, an evangelical guru or pope, to think for them. In their eyes and to their ears he had all the answers. His message became their ideology and crutch, a substitute for the risk of critical thinking for themselves. They struck me as immature (even those in their middle years). They were uncomfortable with any ambiguity or uncertainty; they craved someone like Gothard to put the mess of life into some order for them so they wouldn’t have to deal with it themselves.
In my opinion, for what it’s worth (and this is admittedly mere opinion based on my own observation and reflection), there is a certain kind of personality that craves the comfort of absolute certainty as escape from ambiguity and risk and they find it in religion or politics of a certain kind. The religion and/or politics that attracts them is ideological in nature—absolutistic, logical (or seemingly so), simple and practical.
It ties up all loose ends and leaves nothing important out. It explains everything around a central unifying theme whether that be “God’s chain of command” or “the glory of God” or “American exceptionalism” or “reverence for life” or “feminism” or “self-esteem” or “prosperity.” Of course none of these actually do explain everything; they only seem to because the person following the ideology puts blinders on to shut out everything the shiny ideology doesn’t explain.
The common feature of this personality is passionate commitment to a finite person or movement and its central idea to the exclusion of objectivity and critical thought. Such persons flee from reading anything critical of the ideology. They cast aspersions at those who disagree or dare to criticize. The ideology is the key to unlock life’s mysteries—for everyone. They never say “This appeals to me and I find it helpful.” They must say instead “This is the one necessary truth for everyone for solving life’s problems.”
Years ago Eric Hoffer identified this as the “true believer” syndrome.
Does this exhaustively explain the YRRM? No. But I think it goes far toward shedding light on why so many people are so passionately attracted to it and then tend to grow out of it over time—as they encounter more of life’s complexity and find that it cannot be fitted into a simple formula.
Another explanation for its popularity, however, is simply its faddish nature. There’s another personality type that is simply the follower of the crowd. Calvinism is popular on college and university campuses and in evangelical youth culture generally so many get caught up in it just because it gives them a “place” to belong. There’s a lot of energy and enthusiasm there and many passionate leaders of the movement are attractive, articulate and, to all appearances, spiritually alive (without necessarily being ecclesiastically committed, by the way). The crowd follows such people.
None of what I have said here discounts the possibility that the YRRM is also a work of the Holy Spirit. I believe the charismatic movement of the 1960s was that, but I also know from personal experience that many people who “joined” it did so to find comfort and community and refused to think critically for themselves about it. When certain features of the movement were challenged many of its followers resisted angrily and labeled the critics unspiritual. The same is true of the “Jesus People Movement” of the 1970s. It, too, was a work of God, a genuine renewal of spiritual vitality, but many people got caught up in it because it was popular without ever considering its darker sides or thinking critically about the nonsense that often appeared within it.
My point is that, in my opinion, there are ideological and faddish dimensions to the YRRM that help explain its popularity. By no means does that detract from the good that it does. The passion for missions, for example, is certainly a benefit. But the lack of self-criticism and tendency to take itself so seriously and passionate commitment to it as a movement (and especially to its leaders) all point to ideology. And the shallow avoidance of ecclesial commitment on the parts of many of its followers points to faddishness.
Will the YRRM die away as did the Gothard phenomenon? (Not that it is gone entirely, but it is certainly not the phenomenon it was.) I am not sure, but I suspect so. Something else will replace it—in a few years.
The church ought to encourage absolute devotion and loyalty to Jesus Christ alone and critical thinking toward all his appointed and self-appointed representatives and spokespersons and their messages—especially insofar as they tend to be totalizing.
Russian Orthodox Dispute on the Confession of Faith, by Nikita Pustosviat
Too often I have felt the personal conflict of having to "chose sides" between the various branches of faith within my older days of denominational Christianity. As the chart below will show - and Dr. Olson, goes on to describe - these choices become further limited by our personal flexibility within the ecclesiastical arrangement of our doctrinal preferences, and by our participation or membership within a church, association, synod or denomination. For myself, I grew up Baptist. However, my Baptist heritage was planted strongly within the Reformed tradition making me preference that arrangement. But within that Reformed tradition my church did appreciate the strengths of Arminianism while also attempting to reconcile the TULIP doctrines of Calvinism (which for me was always schizophrenic at best). Hence my baptist church balanced between both strong views even as each were very separate in theological perspective from the other. One sees God as a God of love. The other as a God of judgment. One sees God's grace as elect for all to receive. While the other sees it effectually limited by divine election. One favors a free will creation as predestined by God. The other sees that free will as a fundamental divide that is plague-and-curse rather than divine blessing-and-gift.
One Baptist pastor once described this arrangement between the two doctrinal divides simplistically as "A Calvinist on our knees and Arminian by our witness." It was a statement based upon a hybrid of doctrinal ideas from two different church traditions that once were one before the Canons of Dort split them apart long eons ago. But this was also a statement that was conflicted in its observations and not at all as helpful as I once had thought when looking back on it. But because my dad was raised Baptist, our family was subsequently raised Baptist (and more specifically, a GARB Baptist, as a member constituent within the General Association of Regular Baptist churches). Consequently, we identified with the more conservative elements of Fundamental Baptists within the larger Evangelical tradition - a tradition that had begun several hundred years earlier though I little realized this historical fact until much later in life. What I did know was that Christian Fundamentalism was a religious reaction to early 20th Century scientism and secular modernism. And yes, I was a fundamentalist through my early adult years before becoming an evangelical one once leaving my Baptist church for a nondenominational bible church at university. And then later attending a formerly fundamental bible college that was transitioning, like myself, back towards the broader embraces of evangelicalism.
But it was a personal move that began in my university years and did not complete itself until I was married ten or twelve years later. Those were also years of great personal change and upheaval. And yet, even then, within those newer assemblies of faith, I still had the burden of processing my fundamentalist background against the evangelical predilections of my newer brothers and sisters who I thought too liberal in life and doctrine. Even so, I would later learn that fundamentalism was birthed out of the evangelical movement - and not the other way around - across the many branches of denominational churches during the Billy Sunday era of the early 1900s. While under the Billy Graham crusades of the 1960s-70s evangelicalism began to arise again. (A perceptive historian will note that each movement was birthed out of social disorder - the industrial age and depression for one; the civil unrest birthed by inequality of civil liberties and the Vietnam War for the other. Not unlike my own disorders that I was experiencing.) How curious, I thought, to have to re-learn things I thought I knew, and was so familiar with, and yet, I had the history of the event backwards!
Generally, evangelicalism tries to center itself around Jesus whereas fundamentalism will add some further do's and don'ts into the Christian life to help "sanctify" it a bit more (skirt lengths below the knees, no drinking, dancing, swearing, or going to movies with girls that do, etc). But even more curiously, the more conservative elements within today's evangelical churches are themselves moving back towards a hybridized mix of evangelicalism and fundamentalism. We would call this resulting movement a neo-evangelical movement into fundamentalism (neo = new). A movement that would reduce the breadth of evangelicalism to a stricter set of dogmatic particulars. Whereas historical evangelicalism once had spanned all Reformed denominations to even include non-Reformed church groups like Roman Catholics, Anglicans, Anabaptists, and Pentecostals. But always with Jesus at the center and church dogmas on the peripheries.
Even so, evangelicalism began to preference Reformed dogma, and more especially, Calvinistic dogma, as its congregants have been taught to fight scientism with skepticism. To refuse any adjustments to its closed hermeneutics of inerrancy. To pretext every context, and context every pretext. To lift up, and re-define, Calvinistic ideas of predestination and election into more excluding dogmas. And to generally exclude a lot of people different from itself (the cynic in me would also add the church's cultural alignment with "white, middle class values"). Thus the importance of Austin Fischer's book on neo-evangelicalism from a provocative Arminian perspective.... He calls this movement "the young, restless, and reformed" as lead by popular pulpiteers such as John Piper, Mark Driscoll, John MacArthur, and popular religious mediums like Christianity Today, the 700 Club, and so forth.
On the other side of the ledge was my mother's faith. She was raised in Lutheranism. Her mom and dad were from the old country of Sweden and they too were deeply aligned with Old School Lutheranism (with a flair of the Swedish culture added in for good measure). During my summers as a child, mom would take us to Trinity Lutheran Church were we would be catechised for several summers into the Lutheran doctrines of Christ. However, I was young and could not appreciate the differences between the Lutheran and Reformed doctrines and fellowships except to hear mom say from time-to-time that she could actually understand the words we sung out of the hymnal at our Baptist church. And having attended a Baptist church on a regular basis I could only see the larger cultural differences between "us" and our Dutch Christian Reformer neighbors down the street - for we had no nearby Lutheran neighbors unless my mom's relatives were included. Little did I know that both the Reformed tradition and Christian Reformed tradition were so large and well represented in our "religious" city. Both had schools, colleges, seminaries, publishing houses, media centers, and national synods in Grand Rapids, Michigan.
My only knowledge was that on Sundays, being the Lord's day, we were not allowed to hunt, shoot guns (skeet and target practice), play basketball up at the tractor barns, use the snowmobile much, or go out to eat at area restaurants. Why? Because our Christian Reformed neighbors who lived a country mile away wouldn't like that. Whereas our Christian Reformed brethren did go out to eat on Sundays so that eventually we would do the same somewhere in my early high school years. More generally, we would come home from church and dad would go kill a chicken, boil and pluck it - as a small child this was traumatic to watch as dad lop off the head with a hatchet and set the chicken running around the yard blood-and-all until its body collapsed. Then go about the business of boiling its body and plucking off the feathers before turning it over to mom who would make a great, home-made, chicken dinner complete with dumplings and gravy. Or, sometimes we would have squirrel or rabbit. But my favorite were the pheasant meals we had shot from the day before.
Now if your head is spinning like mine about all this religious doctrine stuff - and still is - well, no matter, you're in good company. A simple reading of church history from Dr. Olson's thick church history tomes will rectify all (there may be other volumes but here's several that come to mind):
But today's article is not meant to clear these religious matters up. More actually I thought it would give to us a closer inspection of the fine differences between the Christian branches of the church from the perspective of a well-versed historical theologian. Afterwards a brief outline of Dr. Olson's descriptions should visualize the distinctions he's observing. And then we'll add one more article about neo-Calvinism's religious penchant for the fundamental ethos.
More generally, you will notice here at Relevancy22 that I have mostly reacted to Calvinism's TULIP doctrine by repeatedly describing how an Arminian (not, Armenian! which is an ethnic branch of the Eastern Orthodox Church) reading of the Bible (re free will and divine Sovereignty) quite nicely dovetails into the broader theological categories of open theism, relational theism, and process theism. I like the concept of divine free will as it struggles with our own human free will and what that means for our relationship with God, each other, and creation. Even as it brings divine hope and grace into all areas of life (and death) as it was meant to be in a proper view of predestination and election (and not the excluding view of Calvinism). I also like its emphasis upon living life rather than waiting for death to come. To appreciate this life than to deprecate it as some unholy thing. To live and use it fully and not casually or inconsiderately. To see this life as meaningful, and meaningfully wrought at the hand of God.
I am also struggling to find an acceptably broad hermeneutic (or anthropologic) to release me from my past conforming Reformed background. Hence, we have been looking into various philosophical strategies that may help from our European brethren of Lutheran and Catholic faith in France and Europe. This generally would be a form of German idealism as espoused by Kant, Kierkegaard, Hegel, and so forth, that have grown into the schools of Continental Philosophy to be recaptured by the theologian Karl Barth in his systematic tomes - which is why Barth seems to read and reflect on theology so differently than we do here in America. Opposite to Continental Philosophy is its opposing twin of Analytic Philosophy that subtends more to the Western mindset of logic and the scientific method. The first thinks about the existential and phenomenological relationships between God and man, and man to man, and all to creation, while the second attempts to align human language and categorical thought with a mathematical precision irrespective of syllogistic import or linguistic ambiguity. Thus, Analytic Philosophy would appeal more to my Reformed background steeped in its own systematic forms of exegetical statements about God and interpretive eisegesis of those statements into church life and practice. Whereas Continental Philosophy works better within the the newer biblical hermeneutics exploring an anthropologic-narrative theology of the bible which seemingly bridges the orthodox gaps with our sisters and brothers in the Lutheran, Anglican, and Roman Catholic faiths. Hence, one of the separators of the church is our regional philosophical differences. How we see and understand life (and perhaps try to force it upon others) to then describe it theologically into our church's life and creeds.
Recovering the Reformed Confession
The other thing we have concentrated on at this website is to describe a postmodern Christianity that is fast becoming post-evangelical and no longer either fundamental or evangelical. My more recent older term for this movement was Emergent (or Emerging) Christianity. But whether it is I who has moved more recently, or my sense of the movement's diminishment (some six months to a year ago by my count), I have taken all the good things from Emergent Christianity and am now purposely re-applying them towards a broader definition of progressive evangelicalism. Or, in my case, a post-evangelical Christian orthodoxy, with all the richness of its variegated Christian past. A past that we each must understand in order to appreciate its differences, while moving forward into a postmodern definition of Christian orthodoxy. One that might result irrespective of the many doctrinal-creedal confessions, councils, and synods across Eastern Orthodoxy, Russian Orthodoxy, Roman Catholicism, Lutheranism, denominational Protestantism, the Anabaptist or Pentecostal faiths, so that we might arrive at an orthodoxy that is broadly evangelical and allowing for a unification of the church together with itself at its spiritual roots.
The aim and goal of a postmodern, post-evangelic orthodoxy then is to center all doctrines and dogmas, practices and traditions, in-and-around Jesus, as the Lord of our faith, and Saviour of man. Which means that restrictive doctrinal barriers and boundaries that would reduce the centeredness of that Christian faith to some other area must be recognized so that it can be re-circumscribed around Jesus, rather than the other way around. We don't wish to fit God around us, but ourselves around God. Which means a lot of stuff has to be unlearned before we can begin to re-learn a Jesus-centrism. Now an instance of this deconstructive-reconstructive effort for the evangelical Reformed faith was to reassert the Gospels of Jesus over the more popular doctrines of Paul. But, from the pen of N.T. Wright and the rise of the New Perspective of Paul movement (NPP), even that is being readily remedied so that doctrinal centrism around Paul is being properly replaced by doctrinal centrism around Jesus. This effort does also delight those Christians predisposed towards a Jewish informed Christian faith (even as it does myself), but should also temper their enthusiasms to not elicit a kind of Christian proselytism. Meaning that we are not Jewish Christians (unless by ethnicity and heritage) but Messianic Christians first and primarily. That one little distinction - Messianic - makes all the difference does it not? It sets the tone and tempo around Jesus.
Now what this means is that local church doctrines which have innocently excluded people from equality within their congregations (such as women in leadership, or inclusion of gays, or non-whites, or divorcees, into active membership, etc and etc) must expand restrictive polities and ministerial practices to be more inclusive - and less exclusive - to people. Which is a good thing. But a thing that takes lots and lots of time as congregants learn to accept the changes to their previously traditional church without thinking that its headed towards liberalism but a liberality within the body of Christ. Liberality carries a far different meaning than the word liberalism and must be the kind of distinction that can be appreciated for its distinctiveness and not feared for its wont-and-will in order for the church to move past sedentary religious folklores and undoctrinal church traditions.
But for a deeply ingrained former Calvinist like myself these doctrinal distinctions will take some time to re-envisage and apply (thus this blogsite here as we work it out together). But at its heart is the older Reformed (and orthodox) idea that Jesus is the midpoint of both salfivic history even as He is the midpoint of our lives. A place where all changes because Jesus is now there - from a life lived without Jesus as Lord and Savior to a life lived with Jesus as Lord and Savior. In all things. In all doctrines. In all practices. And so, this task may not be as hard as supposed if done with a willfulness of purpose that is willing to reconstruct Calvinism (or neo-evangelicalism) to its proper subservience to its Lord. For myself, reclaiming my Baptist Arminian heritage was the answer. It was also important for me to re-work learned dogmas and doctrines towards a fuller embrace of God's grace and love. To allow that simple concept to change all my past views of Reformed church doctrine. For others it may be something else. But let it begin, and begin now, towards Christ in all things.
Peace, my sisters and brothers, in Christ Jesus, our Lord and Saviour.
A minor controversy exists among Arminian scholars (and some non-Arminian Reformed scholars have chimed in) about whether classical Arminianism can legitimately lay claim to being part of the Reformed theological tradition. The question is this: Was and is Arminianism such a deviation from classical Reformed theology that it ought to be considered something entirely other than Reformed (historically-theologically) or was and is it simply one branch of the larger Reformed tradition?
Well, as with so many similar discussions, in this one everything depends on how “Reformed” is defined. Here I will assume a general definition of classical Arminian theology (as I describe it in Arminian Theology: Myths and Realities): “mere Arminianism” (not necessarily Wesleyan which raises other questions in relation to being Reformed).
Today, anyway, “Reformed” is an essentially contested concept. On one end of the spectrum of defining it, “Reformed” requires affirmation of and adherence to the “three symbols of unity”—The Heidelberg Catechism, the Belgic Confession, and the Canons of the Synod of Dort. By that definition, Presbyterians are not Reformed. (Which is why, for example, the publisher Presbyterian and Reformed is so named.) Everyone agrees that they have much in common, but some Reformed scholars define “Reformed” in such a way as to exclude even Presbyterians.
At the other end of the spectrum of defining “Reformed” is the traditional Lutheran approach. For many “old school” Lutherans (e.g., Casper Nervig in Christian Truth and Religious Delusions) all Protestants are either Lutheran or Reformed with Anglicans being sort of a hybrid. Anabaptists aren’t Protestant. But Methodists are Reformed (in this taxonomy)!
Near the Lutheran end of the spectrum of defining “Reformed” lies the World Communion of Reformed Churches that includes about 116 denominations including (!) the Remonstrant Brotherhood of the Netherlands—the original Arminian denomination with roots going back to Simon Episcopius. “Reformed Baptists” are excluded even if they are five point Calvinists!
Many modern, “moderate” Reformed theologians (i.e., theologians who self-identify as Reformed and are recognized theologians of Reformed churches) sound more Arminian than Calvinist: Lesslie Newbigin, Jürgen Moltmann, Adrio König, Alisdair Heron, Alan P. F. Sell, et al. (My apologies for “outing them” as closet Arminians! I realize they would not want to be so identified but I find their soteriologies much closer to classical Arminianism than to, say, TULIP Calvinism.)
One of the major irritants (for me and many others) about the “Young, Restless, Reformed” movement is its leaders’ and followers’ tendency to identify “Reformed” extremely narrowly—as focused on “the doctrines of grace” (as they call them) meaning T.U.L.I.P. The movement ought to be called “Young, Restless, Calvinist.” Somehow that just doesn’t have the same “ring” as “Young, Restless, Reformed,” though. The problem is that the leading spokesmen for the movement would exclude many more classically Reformed people as not truly Reformed. And yet most of them are not “truly Reformed” by the standards recognized by the World Communion of Reformed Churches! (All of those denominations practice infant baptism.)
Do I call myself “Reformed?” It all depends. First of all, as a historical theologian, I think Arminius and the early Remonstrants were historically-theologically Reformed. They just disagreed with the narrow definition of “Reformed” being touted by the likes of Franciscus Gomarus and Prince Maurice (the power behind the Synod of Dort). The Reformed Churches of the United Provinces (Netherlands) by all accounts did not then (before Dort) have any authoritative doctrinal standards that excluded the Remonstrants who could gladly affirm the Heidelberg Catechism even though they wanted it revised. It was Dort that made Arminianism “heretical” within the Reformed Churches of the United Provinces. And many Reformed theologians around Europe did not agree with Dort; some from England walked out of the Synod when they saw what a kangaroo court it was and how narrowly “Reformed” was being defined there.
Many Arminians distinguish between “Reformed” and “Wesleyan” Arminianism. The difference has to do with the Wesleyan doctrine of entire sanctification. If that’s the watershed, then I would belong on the Reformed side even though I have great respect for my Wesleyan brothers and sisters who strive for perfection.
Yet, in America, largely because of the Puritan influence and Old School Princeton Orthodoxy and the influx of Dutch Reformed immigrants, “Reformed” is generally understood as synonymous with “Calvinist.” In that case, of course, I can’t identify myself as Reformed.
And yet I am more Reformed (historically-theologically) than Lutheran! So when talking to a Lutheran, using his or her taxonomy for distinguishing between Protestants, I would claim to be Reformed.
Personally, I think it would “unmuddy” the waters a lot if baptistic Calvinists would stop calling themselves Reformed. Those who belong to Reformed churches may and should continue to call themselves Reformed, but insofar as they are baptistic (ecclesiastically and in terms of the ordinances) they should call themselves merely Calvinists and not Reformed.
I admit to having a penchant for clear and distinct ideas. “Reformed” is no longer one. When someone says they are Reformed I have very little idea what they mean. I have to ask “in what sense?” If they say “I’m a Calvinist” I have to ask “But what makes you ‘Reformed’?” Then they stare at me as if I’m ignorant when, in fact, it is usually they who are ignorant (about historical theology).
Summary Outline
Reformed Doctrine
Heidelberg Catechism
Belgic Confession of Faith
Canons of Dort (made Arminianism 'heretical' by its narrow definition)
- by these denominational tenets "Presbyterians are not Reformed"
Old School Lutheranism
all Protestants are either Lutheran or Reformed (which differs from the
chart above which includes Anabaptists, Pentecostals, and Angelicans)
Anabaptists
"Anabaptists aren't Protestant" differs from the chart above which includes them
Arminians
Arminians are Reformed by their predecessor Arminius, who, with other early Remonstrants were historically and theologically Reformed, to then be excluded from the Reformed fellowship by the separating Canons of Dort.
Reformed Differences
Reformed doctrine includes "entire sanctification" into their soteriology (positional imputation of Christ)
v.
Wesleyan doctrine allows for only "partial sanctification" based upon their doctrine of holiness
(practical imputation of Christ - a composite of divine help v. human struggle)
Reformed Similarities
There are moderate reformed theologians who hold to Arminianism and do not hold to TULIP Calvinism (Newbigin, Moltmann)
To be Reformed is not necessarily to be Calvinistic (Baptists are a hybrid)
According to a recent article in the New York Times I am the leading opponent of Calvinism (or the New Calvinism, [or, neo-Calvinism]) in America today. I don’t know where the writer (Mark Oppenheimer) got that idea. Certainly not from me. Someone else must have said that to him. If it’s true it’s only because there are very few people with a public platform speaking out against it. It was never my intention to be “the” or even “a” leading opponent of Calvinism. In fact, when I sit back and look at my involvement in the evangelical controversy over God’s sovereignty I believe it has been mainly anti-fundamentalist rather than anti-Calvinist. The Calvinism I oppose is fundamentalist Calvinism. I would never have spoken out publicly against Calvinism if that combination were not such a visible and vocal phenomenon in American evangelical life.
So why did I write [my book] Against Calvinism? That’s easy. Because of the rise and influence of aggressive, fundamentalist Calvinism in contemporary evangelicalism. Otherwise, I would not have written it.
Recently I posted here a link (which didn’t work as a hyper-link so people had to figure out their own ways to get to the article) to an article on Peter Lumpkin’s blog by a non-fundamentalist, evangelical Calvinist blasting the new Calvinism (at least part of the Young, Restless, Reformed movement) for over emphasizing TULIP and taking a certain attitude toward it—as the whole of what it means to be Reformed and as equivalent to the gospel itself such that anyone who does not accept TULIP is somehow denying the gospel. If all Calvinists were like him, I would never have written Against Calvinism.
So what is the “fundamentalism” in contemporary American Calvinism that makes it so objectionable?
What I’m describing here is a “fundamentalist ethos.” It comes in varieties and degrees. But here are some of its common features and family resemblances:
a tendency to elevate most secondary doctrines, non-essential to being an orthodox Christian, to essential status,
a tendency to avoid Christian fellowship and cooperation with people who claim to be Christian but are not “like minded,”
a tendency to be highly suspicious of the spirituality of anyone who thinks differently about secondary and tertiary doctrines, however slight the disagreement may be,
a tendency to elevate to sacrosanct status a whole system of theology and consider any deviation from it as (at best) on a slippery slope toward apostasy,
a tendency to focus obsessively on one or more beliefs or practices that, in the larger scheme of orthodox Protestantism, is relatively minor (e.g., modern Bible translations that include inclusive language about human beings, pretribulation rapture, young earth creationism, etc.),
a tendency to be harshest (using the “rhetoric of exclusion”) toward those closest theologically but flawed doctrinally at one or a few points.
I have a recording of two well-known leaders of the new Calvinismwho promote themselves as mainstream evangelicals. They are answering questions from an audience. The recording does not include where or when this took place but its seems to be at a Christian college sometime in the 1990s. The two speakers’ names never appear on the recording but their voices are distinct and easily recognizable to anyone who knows them (and I know both of them—one personally and the other through hearing him speak). Both are all over “Youtube,” so anyone who wants to compare their voices on the recording with theirs on their Youtube clips will immediately recognize them. Remember—these are men who are not usually thought of as fundamentalists and they are widely regarded as mainstream evangelical leaders of the new Calvinism movement.
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(Explanatory note: In my taxonomy the “new Calvinism” is larger than the “Young, Restless, Reformed movement.” The latter grew out of the former. The former, the “new Calvinism,” began to appear within evangelicalism in the 1990s as certain leading evangelical Calvinists began to network with each other to promote “five point Calvinism” as the correct evangelical theology to the exclusion of all others. The “Young, Restless, Reformed movement” grew out of this as some of these evangelical Calvinist leaders began to promote five point Calvinism at large youth conferences, at evangelical colleges and seminaries, etc.)
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On the recording one of the two new Calvinists is asked by an audience member about Clark Pinnock and open theism. He, the evangelical theologian, says he considers Clark’s theology non-Christian and even pagan. He claims that Pinnock denied biblical inerrancy and God’s omnipotence (which is not true.) But his main criticism is about open theism. He says he would not have Christian fellowship with Pinnock (although he once did). (Lots of laughter from the audience.) He then turns to the other one and asks what he has to say about Clark Pinnock. The second theologian says “Well, nothing harsher than that.” (Again, much laughter from the audience.)
The first theologian is clearly annoyed and, in a rather harsh tone, demands the second one say something about Pinnock and open theism. The second one is reluctant to declare Pinnock not a Christian. He reminds the first one that Pinnock did claim to believe in God’s omnipotence. The first one replies that he clearly didn’t believe in it.
Then the conversation segues into one about Arminianism. The first theologian says he accepts “Semi-Pelagians” as Christians (he clearly means Arminians) because at least they claim to believe in God’s sovereignty. Then he says that when Arminians explain what they believe “there’s precious little sovereignty left.” The second theologian reminds the first one that Pinnock claimed to believe in God’s omnipotence and omniscience (so why are Arminian's Christians but Pinnock isn’t?). The first one falls silent for a moment but then says they will have to agree to disagree about Pinnock.
Then they discuss open theism and suddenly the second theologian goes ballistic—calling on people to call Christian colleges that harbor open theist professors and protest. This clearly pleases the first theologian and the audience. The recording ends with the two theologians agreeing that open theism is a serious error that should be removed from Christian colleges and agreeing that Arminians, though Christians, are “all headed there” (viz., into open theism).
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This was a very eye-opening conversation to me. For one thing, I seriously doubt these two theologians would have been quite so open about their antipathies if they were not in front of a friendly audience but speaking into an open, diverse space. They are not generally known for being so harsh. In public, when I have seen and heard them, they seem more irenic.
Around the time that I received that recording (sent to me by a friend) I attended a weekend meeting of Calvinists, Arminians, and open theists. The meeting was hosted by a group of very well-known Calvinists. Most of their names would be familiar to nearly all evangelical leaders and to anyone who has read Christianity Today for very long. The Calvinists declined to have table fellowship or pray with the open theists and Arminians.
I have been told by “Young, Restless, Reformed” people that I’m not a Christian because I’m not a Calvinist.
I’ve been told by Calvinist evangelicals that I’m not an evangelical (though I might be a Christian) because I’m not a Calvinist.
I’ve been told by a Calvinist theologian friend that my Arminianism is evidence of “humanism” in my thinking.
I’ve been told that I’m a Pelagian because I’m an Arminian. A well-known and highly regarded Calvinist theologian tried to block an article I wrote on Arminian theology from being published (he was on the periodical’s editorial board).
On and on and on....
None of this was the case during my formative years in evangelicalism—Youth for Christ, Campus Life, Billy Graham evangelistic crusades, evangelical union services, etc. It wasn’t the case in my family. The Christian Reformed branch and the Methodist branch and the Pentecostal branch all got along just fine—no felt need to proselytize the others. No separatism. No hint of exclusivism or superiority. Sure, the various branches thought their theologies were more correct, but that did not lead to spiritual elitism or theological exclusivism.
So what’s happened in the new Calvinism? It’s infected with fundamentalist elitism, exclusivism and even, at times, separatism. It’s often intolerant of differences about secondary doctrinal matters. Is that unique to the new Calvinism? Hardly. But that doesn’t free it from criticism.
My main criticism of the new Calvinism is that it harbors a fundamentalist ethos. I have never had a quarrel with classical Calvinists, Reformed Christians, who value their heritage and their theology but do not imply that those not sharing it are lesser Christians.
