R. C. Sproul, Arminianism, and Semi-Pelagianism

R. C. Sproul, Arminianism, and Semi-Pelagianism

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/rogereolson/2013/02/r-c-sproul-arminianism-and-semi-pelagianism/

by Roger Olson

February 22, 2013

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Many years ago, as I was emerging out of my fundamentalist-Pentecostal cocoon into the larger world of evangelicalism (during seminary studies at an evangelical Baptist seminary) I was helped by the writings and teaching of several leading Reformed evangelical theologians. James Montgomery Boice, pastor of Tenth Presbyterian Church in Philadelphia and publisher of Eternity magazine, was one of them. Not only did I read his books and articles in Eternity; I also studied under him at seminary. He took a sabbatical from his pulpit to teach homiletics at my seminary—something nobody at that seminary seems to remember! But I still have the sermons I wrote for his class and his handwritten notes on them. (He gave them good marks.)

 

Another Reformed evangelical theologian who helped me was R. C. Sproul who wrote many articles for Eternity (a now defunct magazine I have discussed here before as especially helpful to me during my student years and the first publisher of my own writings—two book reviews written when I was still in seminary). Of course I knew Sproul was a Calvinist, but so were some of my close relatives. Back then there was no hostility between evangelical Arminians and evangelical Calvinists. While in seminary I served on staff of an independent Pentecostal-charismatic church that was thoroughly Arminian. We worked in close cooperation with Reformed churches on evangelistic and other endeavors. We sometimes joked with each other about our theological differences, but there was no sense from either side that one was “more Christian” or even “more evangelical” than the other.

 

While in seminary I found my interests focusing on Christian history and especially historical theology and I learned, among other things, that something called “semi-Pelagianism” is a heresy. The Second Council of Orange condemned it as such in 529. Even then, of course, I wondered why a Catholic synod of bishops held so much weight for Protestants, but I agreed that semi-Pelagianism is biblically in error as well as seriously out of step with both Catholic and Protestant traditions (even if many in both folds fall into it out of ignorance).

 

I think it was while reading Louis Berkhof’s systematic theology that I first encountered the idea that semi-Pelagianism and Arminianism might be lumped together. That was during seminary. But it wasn’t until I was in my doctoral studies that I first encountered a blatant identification of Arminianism as semi-Pelagianism. I was serving as youth minister and director of Christian education at a Presbyterian church and teaching an adult Sunday School class. Most of the people in the class had grown up Presbyterian. I chose to have them read and discuss Presbyterian theologian Shirley Guthrie Jr.’s (that’s a man) Christian Doctrine—a fine one volume presentation of basic Christian doctrine from a Reformed perspective. There I ran into it—James Arminius used as the example of a semi-Pelagian view of election. I knew he was wrong about that and told the class, but they were hardly interested as none of them believed in election anyway! (This was a “northern Presbyterian church” in the deep South and most of the good folks were not Calvinists in spite of the Westminster Confession of Faith.)

 

When I began teaching theology at an evangelical Baptist college I used Guthrie’s book as a primary text in an introduction to doctrine course. It was so readable and full of good illustrations that I thought students would like it and I could correct his errors in my lectures—which I did. But every semester I became more annoyed at his use of Arminius as the example of semi-Pelagianism that I considered using some other textbook. Eventually someone edited Millard Erickson’s Christian Theology (three volumes to one) and I began using that. When I ran into Guthrie at a professional society meeting, I very respectfully confronted him about his error. He said I should write to him about it and he would consider changing it as he worked on a revision that was already in progress. I did that and the revision treated the subject somewhat better although not entirely to my satisfaction.

 

Throughout the 1990s I kept hearing rumblings about a new stirring of Calvinism among young evangelicals and I began to experience it among my students, many of whom were attending Bethlehem Baptist Church pastored by John Piper. I received the first issue of Modern Reformation magazine in 1992. It was dedicated to criticizing Arminian theology and many of the authors identified it as semi-Pelagian. I wrote a letter to the editor (Michael Horton) arguing that true Arminianism is not semi-Pelagianism and he published it with a lengthy response. That began our now twenty-plus year conversation about this.

 

Sometime late in the 1990s I heard a taped talk by R. C. Sproul where he simply used “semi-Pelagianism” as a synonym for “Arminianism.” In that talk (I don’t know where it was given) he divided evangelicals into two camps—“Augustinians” and “semi-Pelagians.” He treated semi-Pelagianism as a legitimate evangelical option (in contrast to Pelagianism) while criticizing it for minimizing the sovereignty of God. I could tell that by “semi-Pelagianism” he meant Arminianism.

 

I began to formulate a plan to write a book about true, classical Arminian theology. Several publishers expressed interest in it and I went with my friends at InterVarsity Press. Arminian Theology: Myths and Realities has been well-received both here in the U.S. and in other countries. It is being translated into Portugese for the Brazilian evangelical audience this year. I continue to receive e-mails from around the world thanking me for writing it—some of them from Calvinists who admit that reading it convinced them that Arminianism is not what they had thought.

In 2009 I wrote to Sproul and gently corrected his identification of Arminianism with semi-Pelagianism. I offered to send him the book if he would read it. I received his reply dated July 17, 2009. He addressed me as “Dear Roger.” He wrote that “I do not identify semi-Pelagianism with Arminianism, but as you indicate in your letter, that I see it as a variety of semi-Pelagianism. … All Arminians are semi-Pelagians in the sense that we have a relationship of genus and species.” He went on to explain that what “differentiates all forms of Augustinianism from all forms of semi-Pelagianism at bottom is the question of the efficacy of prevenient grace.” According to him, Arminianism is semi-Pelagian because it denies that grace is effectual.

I sent Sproul a signed copy of my book and asked for his response. In it I argue that “semi-Pelagianism” is more than denial of the efficacy of grace for salvation; it is the affirmation of the human initiative in salvation—which Arminians deny. I did not receive a response, so I don’t even know if he read the book. (I have given it to several Calvinist acquaintances and asked them to respond. Most did not.)

I am convinced that the identification of Arminianism with semi-Pelagianism has become a major polemical tool in the current resurgence of Calvinism among especially American (now spreading to other counties) young Christians. In other words, Sproul and other influential Calvinists present only two options: Calvinism and semi-Pelagianism and label the latter a denial of salvation by grace alone.

But what about Sproul’s definition of semi-Pelagianism? I can say quite confidently that he is wrong. “Semi-Pelagianism” is not any denial of effectual grace (i.e., what is commonly called “irresistible grace”). Every scholar of historical theology knows that “semi-Pelagianism” is a term for a particular view of grace and free will that emerged primarily in Gallic monasticism in the fifth century in response to Augustine’s strong emphasis on grace as irresistible for the elect.

 

According to historical theologian Rebecca Harden Weaver of Union Presbyterian Seminary (Virginia), whose book Divine Grace and Human Agency: A Study of the Semi-Pelagian Controversy (Mercer University Press, 1996) is the only English language monograph dedicated solely to semi-Pelagianism that I am aware of, “semi-Pelagianism” is tied inextricably to the teachings of Gallic monastic critics of Augustine and most importantly (prototypically) John Cassian. Cassian and certain other Gallic monks (“Masillians”) argued that although God may initiate salvation with grace, for many people the initiative is theirs toward God. That is, God waits to see the “exercise of a good will” before responding with grace. This is what was condemned (along with predestination to evil) at Orange in 529.

 

“Semi-Pelagianism,” then, is the view that “The beginning of faith may have its source in the human agent, although it will not always have its source there.” Furthermore, to compound Cassian’s non-Augustinian view of free will and human initiative in salvation, he taught that “The free will, even in its fallen condition, is not totally unable to will the good” and “the emphasis [of Cassian’s doctrine] falls on vigilance, unceasing struggle, in the attainment of salvation.”

 

This is the standard definition/description of semi-Pelagianism. But in some Reformed circles it has been broadened out to include any and every denial of the irresistible efficacy of grace (for the elect). That’s too broad and it departs from historical tradition in identifying what semi-Pelagianism is. That would be like me using “supralapsarian” to describe all denials of free will. I would be quickly challenged and corrected by especially infralapsarians like Sproul.

 

I was disappointed that Sproul did not respond to my book. He asked for a copy of it and I sent it with the intention that he would read it and respond. It’s been almost five years now. Perhaps life circumstances have prevented it, but I would like very much to know what other Calvinists who have misrepresented Arminianism in the same manner have to say about my book and its central argument that Arminianism is not semi-Pelagianism.

 

In the book I quote numerous Arminian theologians, from Arminius himself to Thomas Oden, to show that all classical Arminians believe that the initiative in salvation is God’s grace (prevenient grace) and that any good humans do, including the first exercise of a good will toward God, is so enabled by grace that there is no room for boasting.

 

Of course, even Calvinists who come to admit that Arminianism is not semi-Pelagianism will reject it. But my personal project in all this has not been to convert Calvinists to Arminianism; it has been to get them and Arminians to recognize what Arminianism really is in contrast to the widespread misinterpretations and misrepresentations of it.

 

 

 

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Problems with Calvinist Polemics against Arminianism

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/rogereolson/2013/02/problems-with-calvinist-polemics-against-arminianism/

 

by Roger Olson

February 10, 2013

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Of all the “five points of Calvinism” the one that bothers me most is Limited Atonement (or what many Calvinists prefer to call “Particular Atonement”). While I find unconditional election and irresistible grace troublesome and problematic, they rise nowhere near limited atonement in terms of departing from Scripture, tradition, reason and experience. I’ve explained why in Against Calvinism and other writings (e.g., my article about limited atonement in the Assemblies of God ministers’ journal Enrichment:

 

http://enrichmentjournal.ag.org/201203/201203_044_limited_atonement.cfm).

 

While writing another talk about Calvinism for a church, problems with much Calvinist polemics against belief in universal atonement occurred to me. Before stating it and pointing out problems with the polemics, however, I need to back up and explain (for those who don’t already know) what these terms mean.

 

“Limited atonement” or “particular atonement” is the belief held by many Calvinists, nearly all of those who currently belong in the “young, restless, Reformed movement” and their mentors, that Christ died only for the elect in the sense of suffering their deserved punishment. Advocates of limited atonement insist they are not actually “limiting” the atonement. They say that’s what Arminians and other non-Calvinists do by making the atonement less than “securing” our salvation. They believe, they say, that the death of Christ was of infinite value, more than sufficient to save everyone. But it was intended by God only for the elect. Presumably, they also mean that God applies the benefits of Christ’s substitutionary suffering only to the elect.

 

I have never quite understood this qualification offered by Calvinist advocates of limited or particular atonement. My question to them is: Was Christ’s suffering sufficient to substitute for the deserved suffering of all people? If so, which seems implied by the claim that it was of infinite value, not limited in any way as to value, then how does that differ from universal atonement in Arminianism (as opposed to universalism)? Both Calvinists and evangelical Arminians believe the benefits of Christ’s death were and are intended by God only for the elect. We disagree about who the “elect” are or why they are elect, what makes them elect, but we agree that Christ’s death was intended by God to save (in the full and final sense) only certain people and not everyone. Arminians believe the “elect” are all those who believe the gospel and receive Christ by faith. Calvinists believe that, too, but they believe those are chosen by God individually and specifically.

 

Just in case someone got lost in that last paragraph, let me recapitulate my question: If Christ’s death was of infinite value, such that it was sufficient to save everyone but intended by God only for the elect, how does that really differ from what classical Arminians believe about the scope of the atonement?

 

Where is this leading? Simply put—Many, perhaps most, Calvinists argue that Arminian belief in the atonement falls into incoherence, inconsistency. Here’s how: allegedly, by believing that Christ suffered the punishment deserved by all people, even those who will be lost eternally, Calvinists argue, Arminians imply that God will punish some sins twice which would be unjust. This is the argument set forth in great detail in Puritan theologian John Owens’ The Death of Death in the Death of Christ—a Calvinist classic. The argument is repeated in many contemporary Calvinist polemics against Arminianism. But how does typical Calvinist belief in the atonement escape the same problem (assuming it is a problem)? How does saying that Christ’s death was “sufficient” to save all and of “infinite value” not turn back on Calvinists themselves, making their own view of the atonement as inconsistent as Arminianism allegedly is?

 

It seems to me the only way for Calvinist believers in limited, particular atonement to escape the same problem is to admit that, in their view, Christ’s death was not of infinite value, sufficient to save all people. But most Calvinists I read do not want to say that.

 

It seems to me quite unfair and illogical for Calvinists to accuse Arminians of inconsistency or of making God unjust when the structure of their belief about the matter in question (the atonement) would be equally inconsistent and equally make God unjust insofar as the Arminian view is and does. (Notice the “insofar,” which indicates I’m not agreeing that the Arminian view is or does.)

 

(Now, one way in which some Arminians have responded to Owens’ and Calvinists’ argument about their view of the atonement [“universal atonement”] is to embrace the “governmental theory” which supposedly solves the problem by saying that Christ did not suffer sinners’ deserved punishment but an equivalent one. I’m setting that aside for purposes of this post because the Calvinist polemic is not aimed there. The Calvinist polemic against the governmental theory is different—that it makes the atonement merely “educative” and is therefore not to be taken seriously except as further evidence of Arminian deviation from orthodoxy. My point here is simply to raise questions about the classical Calvinist polemic against “universal atonement.)

 

Now, I have one further point to make about the Calvinist polemic against Arminianism and the atonement. Owens and those who follow his line of thought argue that God would be unjust to punish the same sins twice and therefore Arminianism impugns the character of God. (I happen to disagree that God would be unjust to punish the same sins twice if the sinner refuses to accept Christ’s substitutionary punishment. But that’s a different subject.) Here’s my point: Why can’t the Arminian simply say, as Calvinists frequently say, that God’s justice is different than human justice? And why don’t Calvinists who use this argument against Arminianism and all belief in universal atonement see how inconsistent they are being? If God’s “love” and “justice” are so different from our most basic and highest intuitions about them that when applied to God they mean only what they mean in that context and have no real connection with other meanings of love and justice, then why can’t Arminians and others believe that God is “just” in punishing the same sins twice even if that means God is unjust in every other meaning of the word “just?”

 

That was a long paragraph and sentence, but working through it diligently is crucial to understanding my question to Calvinists. (Of course, I know that not all Calvinists believe in limited atonement or use Owens’ argument; I’m talking here about those who do which are many especially in the “young, restless, Reformed” movement and their theological mentors.)

 

It seems to me that it is grossly inconsistent for Calvinists to accuse Arminians of impugning the character of God by implicitly making God unjust when 1) their own view of God’s double predestination much more makes God unjust, and 2) they have no right to accuse anyone of making God “unjust” if God’s “justice” (like his “love”) is so radically different from other justice that it means only what it means in their theology (or they would say “in the Bible”).

 

 

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Index to past articles on "Calvinism v. Arminianism"

 

 




 

Review: "Half the Church," by Carolyn Custis James

Half the Church: A Brief Interview with Carolyn Custis James

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/peterenns/2013/02/half-the-church-a-brief-interview-with-carolyn-custis-james/

by Pete Enns

February 22, 2013

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Today’s post is a brief interview with Carolyn Custis James about her most recent book Half the Church: Recapturing God’s Global Vision for Women. For those 7 or 8 of you out there who don’t know who Carolyn is, her online bio will tell you that she is a busy writer and a popular speaker at women’s conferences, churches, colleges, and seminaries. Her ministry organization, WhitbyForum, promotes thoughtful biblical discussion to help men and woman serve God together.

Carolyn is also founder and president of Synergy Women’s Network, which facilitates collaborative learning communities that support and empower women and men leading together for God’s Kingdom purposes. In her spare time, she writes books including The Gospel of Ruth: Loving God Enough to Break the Rules and Lost Women of the Bible: The Women We Thought We Knew.

 

I admire Carolyn because she says what needs to be said respectfully and with power. She is not shy about ruffling some feathers, if that’s what it takes. And it usually does.

What’s the back-story that led you to write Half the Church?

 

Half the Church opens with, “Sometimes when you’re searching for answers, you get more than you bargained for.” When I started searching for answers to personal questions I was asking for myself—about God and about his calling on me as a woman—I had no idea I was wading into one of the most important (certainly one of the most controversial) issues facing the 21st century church. I didn’t imagine where that search would take me either.

 

I started asking questions when my life veered off course and I became the first women in my family who didn’t marry during or immediately after college. Instead of following the traditional roadmap for women, I joined a sizable and largely forgotten demographic of women who live outside the parameters drawn for women by the church. Messages for women coming from the church say a lot about women as wives and mothers, but rarely acknowledge or champion other paths we follow.

 

Furthermore, Christian discussions about women tend to focus largely on women in American pews, excluding women in other cultural settings, ethnic groups, socio-economic classes, and circumstances.

 

I came to the realization that we weren’t asking big enough questions of Scripture or challenging our conclusions by the real experiences of real women and girls in a fallen world.

 

I wanted to know how big God’s vision is for women? Will it hold up under the 21st century pressures bearing down on women’s lives? Does it equip us to advance boldly into the future or does it summon us to retreat into the past? Can the Bible still speak with relevance into the diverse lives of every 21st century woman and girl or should we, as many women are doing, simply move on without it?

 

So by asking those questions, what have you found?

 

This is much bigger than questions about me. And the stakes are a whole lot higher than just my personal concerns. Living with a small vision of God’s calling on your life has serious consequences. God’s mission in the world suffers setbacks when women settle for letting others take care of things or believe they’re out of line if they step up and lead.

 

The Bible contains too many examples of God calling his daughters to violate cultural conditioning and religious expectations by stepping up and leading for us to think it’s okay to take a backseat to what God is doing in the world. When God created the woman, he wasn’t making more work for the man. He was providing real help for a staggering mission—advancing God’s kingdom on earth. We’ve lost sight of that.

 

I found a vision for women that is bigger than I ever imagined and raises the bar for all of us no matter who we are, where or when we live, our marital status or circumstances, or what we see when we look in the rearview mirror. These callings apply to every woman and every girl from first to final breath.

 

We are God’s image bearers—which isn’t simply descriptive. It is a mission that necessitates knowing and representing God and joining his mission in the world. We are ezer-warriors alongside our brothers in the battle against the Enemy that commenced in Eden. God created the woman after making the emphatic blanket statement that “It is not good for the man to be alone.” God is the Ezer of his people, so this is a major way women uniquely image God. We belong to the Blessed Alliance of male and female image bearers mandated by God to be his vice-regents—ruling and looking after things in this world on his behalf.

 

This vision frames every woman’s story and calls her to strive to be more, never less. And despite apprehensions to the contrary, this is not a win for women and a loss for men. God doesn’t do that kind of math. When women step up to answer God’s call, the men in their orbit will benefit.

 

 

How did learning these things impact you?

 

It was a wake-up call for me.

 

I grieved my own complacency and wasted years. I knew I needed to change—to let go of old ways of thinking and to embrace responsibility for my part in God’s work even when it means moving out of my comfort zone.

 

What was the biggest aha moment in writing this book?

 

Actually there were several. But this one reshaped the entire book, including the title.

 

In 2009 I was stunned to see the connection between my work and what Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn call the “paramount moral challenge” of the twenty-first century.” Their book, Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide, exposes how low values of women and girls result in sex-trafficking, honor killings, child marriages, female genital mutilation, gang rape, etc. Their statement, “Americans of faith should try as hard to save the lives of African women as the lives of unborn fetuses,” hit me squarely between the eyes. I knew first, that we have a message that completely undermines the devaluing of women and girls and second, that we have responsibility to do something about this crisis.

 

Half the Church needed to be more than a reassuring and empowering message for women. God’s vision for his daughters is a call to action for God’s justice that demands a response. As God’s image bearers, this crisis is our responsibility. I was deeply encouraged that Sheryl WuDunn endorsed my book. Now many are reading both books together.

 

What surprised you most after publishing Half the Church?

 

Well, I wasn’t surprised that my book drew criticism. What did surprise me, however, was the fact that any thoughtful Christian could read a book that sounded the alarm about unspeakable suffering in the world and come away irked and obsessing over the fact that I didn’t address women’s ordination or male headship over women. Really? Women are being raped 24/7, little girls are being killed for being girls, and you’re miffed because your party line wasn’t endorsed? I still don’t get it—how American evangelicals can be so short-sighted and self-absorbed?

 

The best surprises are seeing how this message continues to change women’s lives and how God is using his daughters to change the lives of others. One of the biggest surprises was learning my book had inspired a woman to lead a group of women to climb Mount Kilimanjaro to raise awareness and funds to combat sex trafficking. Forty-eight Freedom Climbers (ages 18-73) tackled that climb. They raised $300,000, made two Guinness World Records for the most climbers attempting and the highest percentage summiting, and are gearing up to climb to the Mount Everest base camp this year. These are the kinds of stories that motivate me to continue to write.

 

Like I said, “Sometimes when you’re searching for answers, you get more than you bargained for.”

 

 

 

 

 

Synergy - the whole church

 

 

http://synergytoday.org/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When God Doesn't Answer Prayer

http://www.relevantmagazine.com/god/practical-faith/when-god-doesn%E2%80%99t-answer-prayer

 

By Dorothy Greco
February 18, 2013

Dorothy Littell Greco divides her time not-so-neatly between writing, making photographs, pastoring, and keeping three teenage sons adequately fed. She lives and works in the Boston area and is a reluctant Patriots/Celtics/Bruins/RedSox fan. You can check out more of her words and images at www.dorothygreco.com 

 

When God Doesn't Answer Prayer...

At least, how we want Him to answer it.

 

Our all-powerful, all-loving God encourages us to ask Him for what we want. But sometimes, after we’ve put it out there, He seems to turn and walk in the opposite direction. We are left with questions. Why did He want us to pray if He was just going to say no, anyway? We were praying “wrong” in the first place? What are we supposed to do now?

 

I have repeated this cycle multiple times. More than a decade ago, I began experiencing unrelenting fatigue, muscle soreness and waning strength. Countless tests and doctor visits later, I received the diagnosis of chronic fatigue and fibromyalgia. For the next five years, I politely asked God for healing, then demanded healing, then finally gave up hope for healing.

 

As a result, I have been accused of lacking faith by earnest friends and prayer ministers. I’ve confessed and repented of every sin I can think of, wept, protested and spent more than a few days crippled by despair.

 

We tend to have one of two responses when what we asked for is not given in a timely fashion: trying harder or angry blaming.

 

Apparently, I am not the only one who struggled because of unanswered prayer. Last week, I invited friends to fill in the blank on my Facebook wall: “Unanswered prayer ... ” I received more than 40 responses, including the following: is deeply disappointing, makes me feel unloved, feels like a betrayal, is confusing, can be overwhelming, or is business as usual.

 

Some of our bewilderment emerges because we actually believe that God is all powerful and that He not only wants us to come to him like little children, but also encourages us to ask Him for everything from babies, to spouses, to jobs, to housing to help losing weight. Hence—the disconnect when He doesn’t always give us what we want.

 

This paradox reminds me of our youngest son’s attitude at Christmas. He starts composing his gift list in September, and for the next four months, he will revise, add to and shamelessly share it. Yet when Christmas day rolls around, he is filled with dread—because experience has shown him that though we are good parents, we don’t always give him precisely what he requested. He has told us, “Why bother asking me if you aren’t going to buy me exactly what I want?”

 

Isn’t this how we feel about our heavenly Father? We tend to have one of two responses when what we asked for is not given in a timely fashion: trying harder or angry blaming.

 

My five years of spiritual activism post-diagnosis offer you a snapshot of trying harder. I succeeded only in wearing myself out and spiraling deeper into doubt. None of us can make ourselves worthy—that only comes as a gift from Jesus.

 

Angry blaming similarly leads us into a dead-end. In night four of an insomnia jag, I remember spewing at God, “Why don’t you help me get to sleep? The Bible tells me that you give sleep to those you love! Don’t you love me?” Powerlessness is its own form of suffering. When we’ve run out of other options, anger and blame give us the illusion of control. But it really is only an illusion. It didn’t help my faith and it certainly didn’t help me to sleep.

 

For us to avoid these and other unhelpful responses when our prayers aren’t answered the way we’d hoped, we need to zoom out and glimpse the larger story.

 

What if, rather than interpreting God’s “no” or “not yet” as punishment or indifference, we view it as an invitation to be transformed?

 

Every day, there is an epic battle being waged for our hearts. The enemy of our soul has an entire arsenal at his disposal but his go-to weapon is doubt. Adam and Eve didn’t disobey because they craved the apple, but because they fell for the serpent’s ruse that God was withholding good things from them. If you ever find yourself doubting God’s love or questioning His character, push back—hold to what you know to be true.

 

Expressing gratitude also helps to defuse our despair and suffering. Due to fibromyalgia, I can no longer book all-day photo shoots—but I can still see. I can no longer play basketball with my sons—but I can walk and I constantly thank God for these gifts. Turning our hearts to God in gratitude has the capacity to flip our disappointment upside down.

 

Finally, we must be willing to explore any attachment to entitlement that might contribute to our resentment of how God has answered our prayer. We live in a consumer society and have become accustomed to getting what we want, when we want it. Jesus does not promise to give us everything that we want but rather asks us to sacrifice everything—including our own desires for a specific outcome or result. This changes everything when it comes to how we pray.

 

What if, rather than interpreting God’s “no” or “not yet” as punishment or indifference, we view it as an invitation to be transformed? C.S. Lewis writes in The Problem of Pain, “We are a Divine work of art, something that God is making and therefore something with which He will not be satisfied until it has a certain character.”

 

The possibility that waiting and suffering have the capacity to transform us offers us profound comfort while crushing our fear of God being fickle. Rather than needing God to answer my accusatory questions of “why,” I am free to ask, “How can I find You in the midst of this?” This inquiry provides us with the traction we need to move beyond our pain and into the transformation that God has for us.

 

 

 

Understanding Christianity's Jewishness

 

Christian Judaism

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/jesuscreed/2012/03/20/christian-judaism/

 

by Scot McKnight

Mar 20, 2012

Comments

 

E.P. Sanders famously said the problem with Judaism for contemporaries of Paul was that it was not Christian.

 

Sanders was a lightning rod, and at the same time, a lighthouse, for scholars in the late 1970s and 80s, and his legacy — usually called the “new perspective” (language used by Tom Wright and Jimmy Dunn) — has been that while there is a clear difference between “Judaism” and “Christianity,” that relationship in the 1st Century — and perhaps a lot longer — was not so much two kinds of religion but varieties within one religion, namely Judaism.

 

So the debate is often, Do we call “it” Christian Judaism (a Christian form of Judaism) or Jewish Christianity?

 

[My own opinion is to call it "Messianic Christianity," even as our faith is the same, making both one and the same, and placing the onus on us to understand the Jewishness of Christianity; and on the Jewish Christian on understanding its transnational, transcultural, transtemporal implications. - res]

 

And what are the consequences of seeing Christianity — the 1st Century kind — as a kind of Judaism?

 

Daniel Boyarin, in his new and (for the first time for Boyarin) accessible book, The Jewish Gospels, proposes his way of understanding the relationship of Jesus-following Jews in the context of non-Jesus-following (or is that Jesus-non-following?) Jews. His book deserves a wide reading, even if I think there a chunks of chunks of issues not covered and crying out for some explanation. Boyarin is one of my favorite Jewish scholars who interprets earliest Christianity, though I have to admit that his writing is often very difficult to comprehend. His first work, The Radical Jew (about Paul) and then his Border Lines are important contributions to understanding the original relation of the two groups — Jesus followers and those Jews who did not follow Jesus.

 

I make the following observations from his book:

 

First, for Boyarin the key or secret to comprehending earliest Christology — how Jesus became a “part” of God (his word, an odd one to be sure) — is Daniel 7. Over and over he takes the reader back to Daniel 7 to explain how Jesus understood himself and his mission in his Jewish world.

 

Second, Boyarin belongs in a history of religions school that contends ancient Israel combined El with YHWH, and at least one main version was that El was the older god and YHWH the younger one, though eventually YHWH takes over El. This version of how God developed among Israelites finds a similar version in the relation of the Ancient of Days with the “one like a Son of Man” in Daniel 7, and he makes the thoroughly acceptable suggestion that the Son of Man is “part” of God — sometimes he says a “second God” — because the only one who rides on the clouds of heaven in the Old Testament is God. That makes Son of Man divine.

 

So, when Jesus uses Son of Man, he is referring to Daniel 7 (this is a major issue for many NT scholars), and if he is then “Son of Man” is a divine title while “Son of God” is a kingly, more human, Davidic title. So Boyarin is turning simplistic but quite traditional theology on its head.

[e.g., The traditional understanding is that "Son of Man" refers to Jesus' affinity with humanity - His human-ness; whereas "Son of God" referes to Jesus' affinity to divinity - His God-ness. However, this is simply read by our English eyes and ears ("man," "God") whereas by Boyarin's account, we are to read those titles biblically - in their context with Scripture. One that I much prefer, even though I understanding the practical symantic purpose of relating our English preference for Jesus' hypostatic union - that He is fully, and equally, both God and man, in His spirit and flesh. - res]

 

Third, there is good Jewish evidence supporting this kind of Christology at work in Judaism well before Jesus, so when Jesus called himself Son of Man, and with that meant divinity and messianic vocation, there was nothing offensive or non-Jewish about his claim. Boyarin points to 1 Enoch and 4 Ezra, and he’s right here — if it can be proven that these texts are pre-Jesus [and hence, apolcalytic - res].

 

Fourth, Jesus lived an entirely kosher life. Mark 7: 19′s famous statement is not about making all foods clean — so that he was saying you can eat bacon and eggs with milk and still be kosher — but about saying that foods are not sources of purity but instead morals are. Bodily fluids make one unclean; food doesn’t. Food is kosher but this is not the same as purity. Jesus was contesting the addition to the Torah — making foods purity/impurity — by the Pharisees. (Foods are either permitted or not permitted; foods are not clean/unclean or pure/impure.)

[In my church experiences, many times I have found well-meaning Christians making this same mistake; esp. my Christian Torah brethren, who emphasize the importance of observing diets, dress, calendar dates, and other such Jewish decorums for Christian rigor. Under Jesus and Paul, each say this is not necessary. For myself, I have decided my Christianity is Jewish, but that I am not a Jewish Christian, but a Messianic Christian, freed from all laws except God's law to love. - res]

 

Fifth, suffering was an element of the messianic vision in the Jewish world — and here he sketches stuff in Isaiah 53, how Jews read Isaiah 53, how messianic Jews today are keen on this connection (he says this is a bit embarrassing to some orthodox Jews), how Isaiah 43 was messianic for Jews … etc..

 

The result for Boyarin: it was the 4th Century and 5th Century that split Judaism into two religions, Christianity and Judaism. The heresiologists of those days said one had to believe one version of the Jewish vision of Jesus (Trinitarian version) or they were not Christian; and Jewish scholars then pronounced such views heresy. Thus we have two religions.

 

There are problems in his theory, not the least of which is the relationship of Jews and (non-Jewish) Christians already in the 2d Century — Justin Martyr et al — but the big vision is right: Christianity was part of Judaism and everything about Jesus was within the Jewish story.

 

 

 

The New Perspective Revised - "Paul and Messianic Judaism," Parts 4-1

Messianic Judaism: An Introduction

PART FOUR
http://www.patheos.com/blogs/jesuscreed/2013/02/19/messianic-judaism-an-introduction/

 

by Scot McKnight

Feb 19, 2013 @ 0:13

Comment

 

If you want to know what Messianic Judaism was (in the New Testament era) and what it is today, here’s the book: David Rudolph and Joel Willitts, Introduction to Messianic Judaism: Its Ecclesial Context and Biblical Foundations. The book is afloat with excellent studies about all the crucial topics — both today and in the 1st Century.

 

Over the years I’ve read a number of books on Messianic Judaism, including the important study of Daniel Cohn-Sherbok, but this book both “supersedes” (excuse me) that one and introduces us to a critical juncture in Messianic Judaism studies. In five or ten years this book may well need some new legs because MJ has become a serious field in itself and developments are happing rapidly. Decisive in all of this is the “Jewish Turn” in biblical and theological studies — that discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls in the aftermath of the Holocaust led to renewed scholarship bent on relearning how to examine the Bible in Jewish context, and then from EP Sanders (1977) on New Testament studies experienced a revival of interest in re-framing NT history and theology in light of the Jewish Turn. This book floats well in these waters.

 

A sampling of studies in the book: MJ synagogues, worship and prayer, Scripture, Jewish tradition, ethics, outreach, women, MJ in the Land of Israel, national organizations, MJ and the Jewish World, MJ and the Gentile World, Jewish-Christian dialogue. For the NT stuff: Matthew, Luke-Acts, James, interdependence and mutual blessing, Israel and the church, equality, mission-commitment, and the issue of supersessionism.

 

What then is Messianic Judaism? This statement, from the Union of Messianic Jewish Congregations, and found on p. 136 in Rudolph and Willitts, states the issues well in that it defines the Messianic Jewish community as “a distinct part of the Body of Messiah”:

Jewish life is life in a concrete, historical community. Thus, Messianic Jewish groups must be fully part of the Jewish people, sharing its history and its covenantal responsibility as a people chosen by God.

At the same time, faith in Yeshua also has a crucial communal dimension. This faith unites the Messianic Jewish community and the [Gentile] Christian Church, which is the assembly of the faithful from the nations who are joined to Israel through the Messiah.

Together the Messianic Jewish community and the Christian Church constitute the ekklesia, the one Body of Messiah, a community of Jews and Gentiles who in their ongoing distinction and mutual blessing anticipate the shalom of the world to come.

Do you think separable bodies — the Gentile Christian Church and the Messianic Jewish community — fractures the One Body? Do you think it is what Paul had in mind in his mission?

 

 

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Where Christians Got it Wrong with Paul

PART THREE
http://www.patheos.com/blogs/jesuscreed/2012/08/20/where-christians-got-it-wrong-with-paul/

 

by Scot McKnight

Aug 20, 2012 @ 5:08

Comments

 

 

Mark Nanos is on a mission to expound for readers of Paul a Paul who never broke from Judaism. His project, and here we are sketching some of what he says in the book edited by Mike Bird called The Apostle Paul, is both about rhetoric and theology. Nanos, who plays golf well and is a Jewish scholar of Paul, has been stumping for his themes for more than a decade.

 

The rhetoric is clear: Christians have explained their faith, in particular the theology of Paul, at the expense of Judaism. They have made Paul a champion of freedom by arguing Judaism was slavery, Paul a champion of universalism by arguing Judaism was exclusive and ethnic, and Paul a champion of a religion of grace, faith and love while Judaism comes off looking like a religion of merit, works and legalism. In a strange irony, Nanos then says “those values that Christians champion… are instead inferior to the values Jews actually uphold” (163). I get his point, but he’s done the same thing he’s accused Christian scholars of doing: comparative descriptions come off as comparative denunciations. But Nanos has the larger end of the stick on this one; he’s right; Christians have failed to comprehend Judaism because they’ve settled for caricatures that they can use to champion their own faith. Though Luke Timothy Johnson, in his response, thinks Nanos has kept a binary opposition by talking about Judaism as if it were “normative Judaism.” Johnson’s contention is that Judaism was more diverse than Nanos suggests. And Campbell thinks this perception of Judaism derives from Melanchthon.

 

Can you point to a text or texts where you think the Jewish apostle, Paul (or Peter), did not observe Torah? Do you think Paul observed Torah completely? Would you say Paul’s gospel is a kind of Judaism, but still Judaism? Or did he crack the door?

 

The theology of Paul, then, needs another explanation. If the traditional view made Jews legalists, the new perspective (Nanos argues) makes Jews ethnocentric. He wants to argue neither of these categories belong on the table.

 

Paul never left Judaism and the only difference between Paul and other forms of Judaism is that Paul’s Judaism had Jesus as the Messiah. Paul was Torah-observant, never left being Torah-observant [I'd quote Acts 23:6 here, but he doesn't; there Paul says "I am a Pharisee"], and Paul’s mission was to expand the Shema faith of Judaism — One God — to include Gentiles. So, Paul’s mission was including Gentiles into one Judaism. Freedom from the Torah is only for non-Jewish Christians; Jewish Christians remained under the Torah. Schreiner’s response focuses on Paul no longer being Torah observant, and he points to Peter in Galatians 2:11-14 (eating with Gentiles) and Paul saying in Romans 14:20 that all foods were clean.

 

It is big, then, for Nanos to say a major cutting edge between Paul and other forms of Judaism was that Paul permitted Gentile “conversion” without becoming “proselytes” to Judaism. You could convert to Judaism but did not have to become a Jew by undergoing circumcision. Paul opposes proselyte circumcision for Gentile “converts” to Judaism, because circumcision entails Torah observance, and Gentiles don’t have to obey the whole Torah.

 

Nanos, then, has a narrowed meaning for “works of the law”: it’s about circumcision. Works of the law ultimately leads to changed ethnicity or to ethnic Jewishness.

 

Nanos is not alone in thinking Paul didn’t have a “conversion” but instead a “calling” to the Gentiles. I think Nanos’ point can be sustained in some ways but his perception of “conversion” could benefit from conversion theory studies themselves, in which conversion is measured by identity change and not by swapping religions. So, I would argue was converted to a whole new frame of mind but that doesn’t necessarily mean he changed religions, which is the (anachronistic, a la LT Johnson’s response) categories he presses into service. Nanos thinks the term “conversion” muddies the water, and he’s right. So he uses “calling,” which I think muddies the water. Paul’s change is more than simply vocational. He saw everything anew through and in Christ. So convert is a good word, but I would want to respect Nanos’ concern to make sure this does not necessarily mean Paul swapped religions.

 

The issue, for Nanos then, between Paul’s Judaism and others is “chronometrical”: What is appropriate now that the crucifixion and resurrection have occurred? Are we in a new era or not? Paul says Yes, others say No. In other words, it is eschatological. Or, perhaps even more nuanced, hermeneutical. How do we explain where we are in God’s plan? And it revolves around whether or not Jesus is the Messiah.

 

The big issue of this whole discussion can be expressed as questions: Did the apostle Paul think all Jews had to believe Jesus was the Messiah to be saved, or to enter the kingdom of God, or the Age to Come? Did he think non-messianic Jews were just as saved as messianic Jews? Was historic Judaism sufficient or did one have to embrace messianic Judaism? Johnson thinks Nanos doesn’t give sufficient attention to the newness in Paul’s gospel.

 

 

 

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The New Perspective Revised

PART TWO
http://www.patheos.com/blogs/jesuscreed/2012/08/14/the-new-perspective-revised/

 

by Scot McKnight

Aug 14, 2012 @ 0:20

Comments
 

 

In my life time the most significant book on Paul has been E.P. Sanders, Paul and Palestinian Judaism (1977) because it both shifted interest in Judaism but completely shook up how scholars understood Paul. Since Sanders there have been major articulations of Pauline theology, including those of J.D.G. Dunn and N.T. Wright, but they build on and take further what was said by Sanders.

In Mike Bird’s new book, The Apostle Paul, there are four views of Paul: the Reformed view by Tom Schreiner, the Catholic view by L.T. Johnson, the post New Perspective view by Douglas Campbell, and the Jewish view of Mark Nanos. Today’s post will look at Campbell’s piece.

 

What do you see as the major problems with the traditional reading of Paul? What do you see as the major problems with the New Perspective on Paul? Do you think Campbell’s reading helps us forward?

 

In essence, and Campbell gets this right when many don’t, the core of the New Perspective is a new view of Judaism and a new view of Paul rooted in that new view of Judaism. The “old” perspective on Paul, it is argued, overcooked Judaism into a works-based religion. This led to religion being man’s attempt to justify himself, and the whole gospel of Paul was read as a response to this fundamental anthropological pride. Hence, we read in folks like Tim Keller of two options: performance vs. grace/faith. I see this all over, so Keller’s not alone. The New Perspective calls this into question because it argues that this “performance” stuff emerges from a false view of Judaism and therefore from a Judaism Paul could not have been opposing. Paul’s concerns were elsewhere. Put differently, the old perspective thinks Paul’s concerns were anthropology: the human arrogance of self-justification before God, and that means the essence of gospel preaching is to get humans to perceive their pride. Again, this is not what the New Perspective thinks Paul was on about.

 

Campbell, however, goes beyond anything being said by the New Perspective, though he agrees completely with its view of Judaism. He thinks the New Perspective explanations of Paul — Dunn, Wright, oddly not really dealing with Sanders — are not good enough and so he revises those explanations. I would say he radically revises.

 

1. Campbell thinks Paul’s theology turns on three axes: that it is revealed by God to him, that it is Trinitarian (and here he is thoroughly Nicene and orthodox), and missional (his message arises from his mission).

 

2. Campbells thinks soteriology and gospel are one and the same. [I disagree, but only in emphasis or order.] And he thinks that gospel is found, not in Romans 1:18-3:26, which is classic, but in Romans 5–8. He finds here a God whose work in us cannot be stopped, and he finds an ethic that transforms through the Spirit and transcends the Jewish Torah. [This last point leads to Mark Nanos' strong disagreements.] He is Barthian and Torrancian in his approach.

 

3. Campbell doesn’t really follow the assignment, which was followed by Schreiner and Johnson, which means we get his closer reading of how to read Romans 5–8.

 

4. The three persons of the Trinity are indistinguishable in Romans 5–8. Humans are fundamentally relational beings. Christ determines humans not Adam. Since Christ is the solution, Moses is not. (He calls this “thinking backward,” which is a variant of the “from solution to plight.”) The ecclesial approach of Paul is family and he uses the term “brothers” for the Body of Christ.

Both Johnson and Schreiner criticize Campbell for insufficient attention to the rest of the Pauline corpus.

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Finding the Apostle Paul

PART ONE

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/jesuscreed/2012/08/07/finding-the-apostle-paul/

 

by Scot McKnight

Aug 7, 2012 @ 0:03

Comments

 

 

Paul gets bashed a bit these days as more and more Christians realize the anchor of their faith is Jesus. But all orthodox Christian faith is at the same time rooted in the biblical witness and not just historical methods. Biblical faith deals with Paul because Paul’s letters — thirteen of them in traditional counting — not only take up lots of pages in your New Testament but his mission and message shaped 1st Century Christianity at deep levels.

Which of these readings of Paul do you think is most like Paul, or most accurate? Why do you think Paul has “fallen out of favor” with so many today? Why do you think others make Paul so central, even more central than Jesus/Gospels?

Biblical faith, then, deals with Paul. Careful readers of Paul’s letters know that there are some major, major disagreements over how to interpret Paul. So the question is not Jesus have I loved, Paul have I known, but which Paul? Last week we sketched the 1st chp in Michael Bird’s edited volume, The Apostle Paul, another Zondervan Counterpoints book. That chp represents a Reformed, or Calvinist, reading of Paul. Today we look at Luke Timothy Johnson’s study of Paul. Three quick facts: Johnson is Catholic; he is one of the most prolific and significant NT scholars; his sketch of Paul may be Catholic but it shows that when it comes Catholicism, Paul’s letters are not the primary source for creating Catholic distinctives. So, in the end, this is the historian’s Paul, the Paul who emerges from the canonical letters who also thinks — contra many in the academic guild — Paul wrote all thirteen letters.

1. Too many of those who sketch Paul’s theology limit the evidence: he was not a systematic thinker; each letter emerges in context and in contact with issues at hand for his mission; there was a school around Paul; Paul prefers personal relationship and communication.

2. Those who find a “center” in Pauline theology are mistaken, and here he pushes against finding it in Epicureanism, Stoicism, Palestinian Judaism, or apocalyptic — or his struggle with the law or the narrative theology of the new perspective. If we consider all letters, we don’t have a center but themes of a missional apostle.

3. Johnson thinks we have to find the matrix of personal religious experience, the religious experience of his readers, and the compex of traditions and practices already in play at the time of Paul.

4. Christology: an exceptional sketch of Paul’s christology, focusing not so much on Christ as on Lord but it all begins with the resurrection. Holy Spirit is prominent in this sketch. Jesus’ resurrection was an eschatological event. Jesus has representative significance.

5. Cross: a scandal for the Jews; supreme sign that God did not spare his Son, was a sacrifice for sin; an expression as well of Jesus’ faith in God and love for others. It is about his faithful obedience. And the cross is a pattern for human behavior: cruciformity.

6. Salvation: it is accomplished by God and it is not about the accidents of life but basic existential existence; his death was not primarily liberation from systemic powers but from sin and sinfulness. Nanos’ response pokes Johnson for inconsistency here since the remaining portions of this chp seem to move in a more social, if not political, direction. He’s not a proponent of the empire theorists today. Salvation does not just rescue but transforms. The language of salvation explores five different metaphors, none of which is sufficient but each of which is adequate and pointing us to the fuller realities of salvation: diplomatic, economic, forensic, cultic, kinship. He sees an inaugurated salvation: here and not fully complete yet. But salvation is social in that it ushers people into the new community. Schreiner’s response calls out Johnson for a lack of attention to the grace of God and to the importance of faith for justification and to Johnson’s emphasis on corporate (not individual) election.

7. Church: the local assembly; mostly Gentile churches; sketches leadership in elders and superintendents and servants… more than a voluntary association but derives from the call of God. Paul dealt with boundaries over against both Gentile/Roman world and Jewish world. Jewish believers follow Torah; Gentiles believers need not. Paul had egalitarian ideas that crashed at times against social realities, and Douglas Campbell thinks Johnson needs to work more on this element of his chp as Campbell thinks the social tensions arise in the non-Pauline letters.

Surprisingly, hardly a thing on eucharist or baptism.


 

"Beloved, Let us Love One Another" - Are Christians Called to Debate One Another, or to Love One Another?

The Most Frightening Verse in the BIble (at least for me)

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/peterenns/2013/02/the-most-frightening-verse-in-the-bible-at-least-for-me/

 

by Pete Enns

February 18, 2013

Comments

 

I can still recall a conversation I had many years ago while I was still on the faculty at Westminster Theological Seminary. A recent graduate came back to visit the campus and felt strongly that he needed to let me know, in no uncertain terms, how I had failed him in his preparation for gospel ministry.

 

He was a pastor now, for several months, and was called by God to “contend for the gospel,” which is sort of code for pursuing debate with fellow pastors, elders, and congregants to make sure the appropriate level of precise theological orthodoxy was being maintained.

 

My own teaching style and theology were not oriented toward training polemicists. I was more interested in exploring the Bible with my students and encouraging them to let the Lord surprise them through a careful and alert reading of the text–wherever that would lead.

 

You can see where this was going. My style was the very problem for this student, who took the time to seek me out and let me know. He became quite belligerent–even a tad condescending. I asked him to consider whether the Bible might have a thing or two to say about whether contending and debating without ceasing was the best way to spend one’s life in service to God’s people.

• “What about love?” I asked.
 
• “Love!?” he answered, “That’s what the liberals told Machen” [J. Gresham Machen founded Westminster Seminary in 1929 in opposition to liberal influence, and he was quite contentious in doing so, which has served as a model of ministry for many in that tradition.]

That brief exchange has come to mind a lot over the years. To live in a near constant state of theological vigilance, ready to strike down a brother or sister for (perceived) theological failings seemed not only a colossal waste of the one life God has given us, but at odds with what the Bible makes a big deal of.

 

Which brings me to my most frightening verse –actually two–1 John 4:7-8:

 

Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love.

 

This verse frightens me because when I think of that student it does not take long before I realize that I am looking at myself. I am prone to fall into the same patterns of this young, deeply troubled, student I last saw a dozen or so years ago. Hey, I’m a type A, German, analytical, intellectual guy. Bow before me as I conquer the universe.

 

This verse is followed by another in v. 12 that drives the point home even further:

 

No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God lives in us, and his love is perfected in us.

 

I am tempted to insert “but” after the semi-colon, even though there isn’t one in the Greek. Still, I think the same point holds either way: The closest we ever get to seeing God is when we love one another, for that is when God lives in us.

 

I know the Bible sometimes makes absolute-sounding statements when something less threatening would do. I’m just not sure if this is one of those places. This actually sounds pretty foundational, especially since it’s hardly a minor theme in the New Testament.

 

Here’s what’s frightening:

 

What if this is one of those verses we are supposed to take literally?

And what happens if we do not love one another? Then what?

 

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying Christians should never disagree or exchange sharp words when needed. But… 1 John, and that conversation [from] years ago, keep hanging around in the back of my head.

 

What if all that love business is as true and serious as it seems to be?