What Attracts People into the Young, Restless, Reformed Movement?

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/rogereolson/2014/03/what-attracts-people-into-the-young-restless-reformed-movement/

by Roger Olson

March 14, 2014

Comments

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.

continue to -

Index to past articles on "Calvinism v. Arminianism"

      

The Broader History of Evangelicalism and Christian Orthodoxy

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):

    

Amazon link here

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.

R.E. Slater

April 4, 2014

updated April 6, 2014

David Crowder - O Praise Him

Passion 2013) [HD & Lyrics]

Psalm of Thanksgiving

Turn your ear

To heaven and hear

The noise inside

The sound of angels’ awe

The sound of angels’ songs

And all this for a King

We could join and sing

All to Christ the King!

How constant, how divine

This song of ours will rise

O, how constant, how divine

This love of ours will rise

Will rise!

O praise Him!

O praise Him!

He is Holy!

He is Holy!

Turn your gaze

To heaven and raise

A joyous noise

The sound of salvation come

The sound of rescued ones

And all this for a King

Angels join to sing

All for Christ our King!

How infinite and sweet

This love so rescuing

O, how infinitely sweet

This great love that has redeemed

As one we sing!

Alleluia!

Alleluia!

He is Holy!

He is Holy!

For a larger picture click here

Is Arminianism “Reformed?”

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/rogereolson/2014/02/is-arminianism-reformed/

by Roger Olson

February 27, 2014

Comments

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)

* * * * * * * * * * *

Is the Problem Calvinism or Fundamentalism

(or the Combination)?

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/rogereolson/2014/02/is-the-problem-calvinism-or-fundamentalism-or-the-combination/

by Roger Olson

February 4, 2014

Comments

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:

1. a tendency to elevate most secondary doctrines, non-essential to being an orthodox Christian, to essential status,
2. a tendency to avoid Christian fellowship and cooperation with people who claim to be Christian but are not “like minded,”
3. 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,
4. 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,
5. 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.),
6. 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 Calvinism who 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.

---

(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.)

---

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).

---

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.

continue to -

Index to past articles on "Calvinism v. Arminianism"

      

Excerpt from Austin Fischer’s Book, "Young, Restless, No Longer Reformed"

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/rogereolson/2014/02/excerpt-from-austin-fischers-excellent-book-young-restless-no-longer-reformed-wipf-stock/

by Roger Olson

February 9, 2014

Comments

With the publisher’s permission I am posting an excerpt from Austin Fischer’s new book Young, Restless, No Longer Reformed here. Please buy the book. In fact, buy two copies–one for yourself and one to give to a friend who isn’t sure if being a Calvinist is right for him or her.

Young, Restless, No Longer Reformed, by Austin Fischer

Introduction: Black Holes

Gravity

When a big star dies, a remarkable thing happens.^[i] Its own gravity crunches it until it becomes a small core of infinite density—matter squeezed together so tightly the known laws of physics cease to exist. The dead star now has a gravitational pull so strong that nothing, not even light, can escape. And at this point, the dead star has become a black hole, and everything within its reach is dragged towards its center. It can swallow planets, stars, and even other black holes. Get too close and you’ve bought a one-way ticket on a journey to the center of a black hole. Its gravity is irresistible.

Gravity is an integral part of human life. It doesn’t take us long to learn that what comes up must come down. And it’s not as if anyone enforces gravity—it just is; a physical force to be accepted and not conquered. Gravity is also a spiritual force in the sense that we humans find ourselves drawn to things beyond our control. We are constantly sucked in to things—a job, a person, a hobby, an addiction. But of course if you really put spiritual gravity under the microscope, you see that the thing we are being sucked in to is ourselves.

We are black holes—walking, talking pits of narcissism, self-pity, and loneliness, pillaging the world around us in a desperate attempt to fill the void inside us. Unless something is done, you will spend the rest of your existence as a human black hole, eternally collapsing in on self in a tragic effort to preserve self. It’s bad news.

But Christians believe there is good news that is better than the bad. We believe something has been done—that through the incarnation, crucifixion, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, God has done what we could not do ourselves. We no longer have to live under the crushing gravity of self because where sin and selfishness abounded, grace now abounds all the more. It certainly is good news, but…

Options for the Restless

Leave it to us to take something so beautiful and other-centered and turn it into something (you guessed it) about us.

The universe-altering message of the gospel becomes a message about me: Jesus died so I could be happy and comfortable forever and ever. While this may pass for gospel in many circles, there is a growing swell of opposition to it in many others—a recognition that such thin, therapeutic, self-centered expressions of Christianity lack the gravitas to hold a human life together, much less make it thrive. A crowd of voices calls us out of consumerism, moralism, and skepticism and into sacrifice, risk, and commitment.

And for those who are restless for more, Neo-Calvinism^[ii] often appears as the strongest—and perhaps only—alternative for thinking biblical people. It offers the new center of gravity that can finally draw us away from self. Such was my conviction, and I still believe Neo-Calvinism is a strong alternative to cultural Christianity.

But I believe we best say yes to God’s glory and sovereignty by saying no to Calvinism. I believe that I—along with many others, past and present—have found an even better option. It’s not new, and it’s not novel; indeed I would argue it is simply the historic consensus of the church. But correctly understood, it offers the greatest hope for a restless church. Unlike Calvinism, it doesn’t replace the black hole of self with the black hole of deity, making both God and the Bible impossible (more on that later); however, it does offer an infinitely glorious God, a crucified Messiah, and a cross-shaped call to follow Jesus.

Egotistical Sincerity

These are my convictions, and anyone with convictions faces a dilemma: would you rather be convincing or honest? Is it more important to get people to agree with you or to honestly present the best of worthy options? While I have certainly tried to be convincing, I think the truth is best served when we are honest, and so I have also tried to be honest. And the best way I have found to be honest is to tell you my story: a journey in, and out of, Calvinism. As Chesterton once confessed, sometimes you have to be egotistical if you want to be sincere.^[iii]

In this reminiscing, something became clear: theology and biography belong together.^[iv] We try to make sense of God as we try to make sense of our own stories, our own lives. As such, theology is meant for participants, not spectators. I write as a participant and not a spectator in the hopes it will help you become a better participant in your own theological journey, wherever it takes you. These things said, let the journey begin. Only it can’t quite begin without two quick detours.

Detour #1: The Wrong Girl

I once had a friend who was convinced the wrong girl was the right girl. He thought she hung the moon while walking on water and while I thought she was nice and all, I was convinced there was someone out there better for him. Whether I was right or wrong isn’t the point—the point is that when I talked with him about it, I wasn’t trying to sabotage his current relationship so much as I was trying to encourage the prospects of a new one. I feel much the same when I talk to people about Calvinism because while I think you could put a ring on her and live happily ever after, I also think there’s someone better out there. On top of that, it’s a shame to be known for what you’re against, so for clarity’s sake I’m not trying to get anyone to not be something (a Calvinist), but to be something.

Or to make the point with different strokes, the silhouette of the crucified God of Golgotha is an image chiseled into my heart. When sin within rises, chaos without descends, confusion all around lays waste to any semblance of comprehension—when I don’t feel like I understand a damn thing—I look up there and I understand enough to say thank you. I understand enough to call it love.

So when someone messes with this picture, adding a cryptic backdrop that threatens to stain the whole thing, I’m against the backdrop only because I’m for the picture I think the backdrop ruins. I’m not against the Calvinist picture of God so much as I am grieved by what that picture does to the picture I love, turning the full-truth of Golgotha into a duplicitous half-truth. The rest of the book is a description of what happened when my Calvinism was subjected to the searing scrutiny of that image, in the hopes you might glimpse the terrifyingly beautiful God of Jesus Christ.

Detour #2: Everything

The most devastating combination of words in the English language form a statement masquerading as a question: who cares? When this “question” is asked, a statement is made. The asker is expressing his apathy and disregard for the issue under discussion. It does not appear to matter, so why waste our breath? Why kick a hornet’s nest just so we can count the hornets? And it’s a good “question” to ask because many of the issues that hoard our energies and efforts are dead ends. It’s also a “question” I’ve been asked many times when debates about Calvinism and its alternatives arise.

Does it really matter if Calvinism is true or false? Does it really matter if we have free will? Does it really matter? Not at all, and yet, more than you could imagine.

No, it doesn’t matter because God is who he is and does what he does regardless of what we think of him, in much the same sense that the solar system keeping spinning around the sun even if we’re convinced it spins around the earth. Our opinions about God will not change God; however, they can most certainly change us. And so yes, it does matter because the conversations about Calvinism and free will plunge into the heart of the question the universe asks us at every turn:

Who is God?

And this is a question that has everything to do with everything.

---

Footnotes

[i] Or to be more precise, a remarkable thing can happen. For a good explanation of how black holes are formed, see Stephen Hawking, Black Holes and Baby Universes and Other Essays (New York: Bantam, 1993), 103-104.

[ii] Neo-Calvinism proper is a Dutch strand of Calvinism associated with Abraham Kuyper. I am using it to refer to the high federal Calvinism of Jonathan Edwards, as popularized by people like John Piper, Mark Driscoll, Al Mohler, etc. The term was used in this fashion in a Time magazine article (March 12, 2009) and seems to have stuck. As such, I am using it to delineate the New Calvinism movement chronicled in Collin Hansen’s Young, Restless, and Reformed, although I acknowledge some people prefer to call it other things (for example, Neo-Puritanism).

[iii] G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy (Simon & Brown, 2012), 3.

[iv] This idea is explored in Biography as Theology by James McClendon.

@Used by permission of Wipf and Stock Publishers. www.wipfandstock.com

continue to -

Index to past articles on "Calvinism v. Arminianism"

      

* * * * * * * * * *

John Piper, Jonathan Edwards, Austin Fischer, and God

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/rogereolson/2014/03/john-piper-jonathan-edwards-austin-fischer-and-god/

by Roger Olson

March 10, 2014

Comments

So, John Piper has now responded to Austin Fischer’s book “Young, Restless, No Longer Reformed” (Wipf & Stock, 2013). (For those of you who don’t know, Austin is Teaching Pastor at The Vista Community in Belton/Temple, Texas and his book is a run-away seller about his spiritual and theological journey in and out of Calvinism.)

Of course, you should read Austin’s book before making up your own mind whose right in the current debate about it–John or Austin. But see their very differing views of it at,

https://soundcloud.com/askpastorjohn/is-god-a-needy-vacuum-trying
(audio file response by John Piper)

and at,

purpletheology.com/dear-john-piper/
(or found below here)

Predictably (IMHO), John is arguing that Austin misrepresents his and [Jonathan] Edwards’ view of God. Austin is arguing that he is simply saying what that view looked like to him when he stepped back and considered it biblically, theologically and logically.

In other words, Austin is saying “If I were a Calvinist, this is how I would have to think of God….” In other words, he is using an argument Calvinists themselves have LONG used against Arminianism–namely, the “good and necessary consequences” argument. Here’s how it goes: “IF you believe A and B is a ‘good and necessary consequence’ of A, then it is valid to say you also believe in B.” HOWEVER Austin (and I) go out of our way to say we KNOW Calvinists do not actually believe the “B” we see as a good and necessary consequence of the “A” they acknowledge believing. However, we say that “B” is what WE WOULD HAVE TO BELIEVE if we believed “A” and that Calvinists have not demonstrated how that is not the case–how it is that they can be reasonable and NOT believe “B.”

So, John Piper has said in the past that Arminians “must say” that the cross of Jesus does not actually save anyone but only gives people an opportunity to save themselves. (Don’t ask me where; you can find that yourself. John and I have e-mailed back and forth about it so I know he said it!) That’s the form of argument I outlined above EXCEPT that he collapses “B” into “A” with the “must.” The “must” MEANS “if they are going to be logically consistent…” because NO Arminian has ever said what he says they “must” say.

In other words, John was there (and elsewhere) using the familiar “good and necessary consequences” argument to defeat Arminianism. (I happen to believe there is no logical connection between the “A” and the “B” in his argument, though.)

Austin was (in his book) simply using the same form of argument against Calvinism. Namely: IF you say that God “designed, foreordained, and governs” everything that happens including sin and evil, you are logically saying (as a good and necessary consequence) that God is the author of sin and evil. However, Austin is careful (as I have been careful) to say that almost no Calvinist actually believes God is the author of sin and evil. He’s saying if HE were a Calvinist HE would have to believe God is the author of sin and evil because that is the “B” that is a good and necessary consequence of the “A” that Calvinists DO actually believe.

And, of course, both Austin and I are saying that it’s only reasonable to move from “only A” to “A and B” and that reasonable people will tend to do that.

Now, someone (maybe you!) will say “Who cares about being reasonable if the Bible says ‘A’ but not ‘B?’ Simply believe “A” and deny “B” even if “B” is a “good and necessary consequence of “A.” But wait! Listen! Pay attention! John Piper and all other Calvinists have been saying for a long time that ARMINIANS are not allowed to do that! One of their main arguments against Arminianism has always been that it’s logically inconsistent. They can’t play by double standards. If they value logical consistency they must pay attention when someone points it out in their own theology. They can’t just use the “good and necessary consequences” argument against others’ theologies and then turn around and say it doesn’t matter for their own theology! (Which is what I think they often do.)

Read Austin’s response to Piper. It’s irenic without backing down one iota. It’s reasonable and invites conversation. It’s respectful of Piper. Piper needs to admit that he misrepresented Austin’s view rather than the other way around (IMHO).

* * * * * * * * * *

Dear John Piper

http://purpletheology.com/dear-john-piper/

by Austin Fischer

Mar 7, 2014

I woke up this morning to find John Piper has posted a video with some thoughts on my book. [Full disclosure: if you’ve read the book, you know Piper had a huge impact on my life and I still have immense respect for him. So hearing him talk about the book was surreal.]

Even though I was sure the book would convert him :) … go figure, it didn’t, and he had some sharp things to say. He was particularly miffed because he felt I had misrepresented Jonathan Edwards, claiming Edwards thought and taught God was a black hole that needs human worship. [So,] a few thoughts….

This is a tricky subject, but I feel the way Piper handled it misrepresented me more than I may or may not have represented Edwards. The nub of the issue is this: I don’t think Edwards or Piper think God is a black hole that needs human worship (a vacuum cleaner, as Piper says)—period, honest to God, cross my heart, scout’s honor. I worship and serve alongside many Calvinists at my church and I know they don’t think that about God.

What I said is that when I traced out Edwards’ logic and thought the things Edwards thought about God, I felt forced to believe God was a black hole that seemed to need to create in order to display all of his attributes (after all, how do you display wrath and justice without a creation?). There’s a huge difference here and throughout the book I go out of my way to make this concession: this is what I felt compelled to believe as a Calvinist and isn’t what all Calvinists believe.

So while Piper says I should be “ashamed” for misrepresenting Edwards, what I hear is that I should be ashamed for not agreeing with Edwards. And that makes me sad.

To turn the tables, most firm Calvinists I know think Arminianism (or anything that’s not Calvinism) inevitably leads to semi-pelagianism. They feel that if they were Arminians, they would feel forced to be semi-pelagian. Fair enough. I very much disagree, but I understand what they’re saying and can respect that.

I’m not going to wag the Protestant papal finger of shame at them and claim they think I think my works get me into heaven and are ignorant and have egregiously misrepresented me. They’re just saying they would feel compelled to believe that if they believed what I did. Again—fair enough. Reasonable, biblical, orthodox minds can look at the same picture and see different things. We’ve done it since Jesus walked out of the tomb. As someone who’s not a fundamentalist, that’s my conviction.

Did I say some sharp things in the book? Yes. Too sharp? I hope not, but I’m not above that criticism. But did I misrepresent Edwards? I’m under no illusion that I understand Edwards perfectly (who can!?), but I don’t think I misrepresented him. This is what I think happened and what I trace out in the book.

I sat and watched the meticulous picture of God that Edwards and Piper painted. I loved so many of the strokes and colors. They finished painting, stepped back and said, “What a masterpiece! The manifold excellencies of the glory of God, displayed in the doctrines of grace.” I stepped back and said, “I really want to see that!…but I’m afraid I see a black hole instead.”

---

So Dear John,

I appreciate so much of what you do and what you did in my life in a formative time. I think you’re a theological force of nature. I think your ministry brings glory to God. I think you believe in an infinitely glorious and beautiful God who loved you enough to die for you. I don’t think you believe God is a black hole—honest to God, cross my heart, scout’s honor.

But as much as I didn’t want to and as hard as I tried, when I stepped back from the picture of God you and Edwards painted and took it all in, I didn’t see what you saw. I saw a black hole.

I’m truly sorry if you feel I implied you and Edwards believe God is a needy black hole. I know you don’t believe that, so if that’s what you feel I said, I apologize. I’m not sorry that I (along with many others) look at the picture you paint, can’t ignore the reprobate, can’t reconcile it with lots of Scripture, can’t reconcile it with a good God who looks like Jesus crucified for the whole world, and can’t help but see a black hole. I can agree to disagree. Hopefully you can too.

Grace and Peace Brother,

Austin