Evaluating "God Wins" by Mark Galli

The real impasse in the debate over Rob Bell

http://fireandrose.blogspot.com/2011/07/real-impasse-in-debate-over-rob-bell.html

Posted by David W. Congdon
on Sunday, July 17, 2011

Mark Galli’s book, God Wins—a response, obviously, to Love Wins—was the topic of discussion last week. The book has been available on Kindle for a few weeks, though it doesn’t appear in print until August 1. In it, Galli explains why he thinks “love wins” is an insufficient understanding of the gospel, because it bypasses the question of God’s judgment and wrath. Hence, “God wins.” One almost wants to ask Galli whether he’s forgotten 1 John 4:8. But that’s a cheap shot. Since I haven’t read the book yet—and since I’ve already written a few thousand words on Galli in my series responding to his deeply misguided and misinformed review in Christianity Today—I defer to the recent blog posts by Roger Olson, a man I highly respect and deeply admire.

Olson, a friend of Galli, wrote about God Wins on July 7. There he made a number of ambiguous remarks that were clearly an attempt to praise the qualities of the man while criticizing the claims of the book. He begins by stating that “Mark is a serious evangelical scholar with an irenic approach to controversial material.” He then goes on to say, “I get the sense that Mark felt things that I did not feel and that I felt things Mark (and others) did not feel.” And later: “I think that may be because Mark is a member of a denomination struggling with rampant liberalism in which conservatives (by which here I mean people who value traditional, orthodox, biblical Christianity) feel embattled. I, on the other hand, have been beset by fundamentalists and aggressive neo-fundamentalist heresy-hunters.” The rest of the review is just filler: Mark is a great guy, but he’s approaching this book from a perspective I do not share. Translation: his criticisms of Love Wins are not really about Bell; they are instead about Galli’s own issues within his ecclesial context.

Olson followed up that review of God Wins with another post on “Why I defend Rob Bell’s Love Wins (and other controversial books).” In this fascinating post, Olson puts forward the claim that what is really driving a book like God Wins is the whole Calvinism-Arminianism debate. He then states:

I think SOME evangelical Calvinists are so allergic to both Arminianism and liberalism that they tend to lump them together and not see their differences. There’s something in American evangelical Calvinisms’ DNA that makes it see a trajectory from Arminianism (or anything like it) to liberalism. I deny that trajectory and, in fact, tend to think it is the other way around (if anything): Calvinism leads to liberalism.

Olson compares Love Wins to the books related to the open theism controversy. He observes that the attacks made against both by Calvinists are the very same arguments used by Calvinists against Arminianism. What happens in these debates is that the particularities of open theism and Bell’s “open eschatology” (if I may put it thus) are lost amidst polemics about divine sovereignty and human free will. In Olson’s words, “the crux of the debate has to do with two different interpretations of 1 Timothy 2:4,” and “the deep, inner logic of the attacks on Love Wins” are rooted in “Reformed assumptions about God rather than out of Arminian assumptions about God.” Olson then makes a very interesting comment that warrants further reflection:

Simply to respond that God Wins is to raise some questions from the Arminian side. In what sense does God win? Does God get everything he wanted? Does God want hell–antecedently as well as consequently? If you say no, then why does hell exist? It has to be because of free will and that has to be because of God’s loving self-limitation. If you say yes, then that raises a host of questions about God’s goodness. There don’t seem to be alternatives. Either God wanted hell antecedently, in which case God is a monster, or God only wants hell consequently (to the fall) and that means God doesn’t exactly “win” in every sense, right? But love can still win IN THE SENSE that love wants free response and not coerced or programmed response.

There is much here worth examining in detail, but in the interests of brevity, I will summarize my thoughts with the following points. These are not meant to be exhaustive. They only hit on some of the key issues for the sake of further discussion.

1. The Calvinist-Arminian debate is an old one, but it seems blissfully unaware that there are serious alternatives to this rather stale binary opposition. It might seem a bit obvious, since it’s been suggested many times before, but a really compelling alternative is that of Karl Barth. Why? Well, it all comes down to understanding what we mean by freedom. The problem with both Calvinism and Arminianism is that freedom—whether the freedom of God or the freedom of the human being, respectively—has been defined in the abstract. The Calvinist freedom of God (i.e., the absolute sovereignty to determine the elect and the reprobate) and the Arminian freedom of humanity (i.e., the free will to determine one’s eternal identity in response to the gospel message) are both known prior to and apart from how God has actually exercised freedom in the person of Jesus. In other words, both are metaphysical conceptions of freedom. They are abstract notions not determined by the concrete particularity of God’s self-revelation. Now it may be that both sides simply don’t care; they like their metaphysics and cling to it tightly. That could very well be the case. But it’s important to point out just what is being assumed on both sides. In both cases, Christ is not definitive for what divine and human freedom means theologically.

2. Of course, to lift up Barth as a possible solution to the debate is not new, nor is it very persuasive to hard-core adherents of both positions. I suspect Calvinists and Arminians want their abstract conceptions of freedom, not because they care about the debates over metaphysics but because they are both deeply afraid of what it [may] mean to go a different route. To put it directly, both Calvinists and Arminians are afraid of universalism. Calvinists need an abstract divine freedom (that is, an abstract decision of predestination) because their commitment to irresistible grace and the efficacy of God’s election means that a divine freedom determined by Christ’s reconciling promeity would result in the salvation of all people. Arminians need an abstract human freedom because their commitment to God’s universal desire for all to be saved (see Olson’s reference to 1 Tim. 2:4 above) would mean, again, that all humans would be saved were it not for our ability to thwart God’s will. But maybe—just maybe!—the problem is the presupposition by both sides that the salvation of all people is absolutely prohibited as a possible option in theology. Maybe our abstract commitments to a non-universalist eschatology and to certain notions of what freedom means for God and for human beings are at the root of the problem. Maybe we should let the reconciling mission of Christ determine what we can say about freedom and eschatological consummation.

3. In other words, the following claim by Olson is a false binary: “Either God wanted hell antecedently, in which case God is a monster, or God only wants hell consequently (to the fall) and that means God doesn’t exactly ‘win’ in every sense, right?” The answer is no and no. I agree with Olson that God would be a monster for willing hell in advance. The old doctrine of double predestination is indeed a diabolic position to hold. But the Arminian alternative fares no better. Is a God who sends people to hell really much worse than a God who is impotent in the end to save those who reject the gospel (or never hear it in the first place)? The former is a God who is sovereign but cruel; the latter is a God who is weak but loving. The former is protologically monstrous, while the latter is eschatologically monstrous. But it’s unacceptable either way. If all are not finally saved, then God cannot be said to have “won.” And a God who does not “win”—who does not fully and finally accomplish God’s own perfect will—is simply not the God attested in scripture.

4. We can put the problem another way: for both Calvinists and Arminians, love and justice have been defined in the abstract, i.e., apart from God’s concrete self-communication in Christ. They both pit love and justice in a competitive relationship. Calvinism grounds the competition in God’s eternal predestination—so that God determines where love will “win” and where justice will “win.” Arminianism grounds the competition in the conflict between a loving God and a sinful humanity: God loves everyone, but this loving divine will is overpowered by a human refusal of this love that, according to the rules of the game, forces God to exact justice. If we begin with Christ, however, it turns out that love and justice are non-competitively related, since it is precisely the love of God for all that God’s cruciform justice serves to accomplish. Justice is simply the form that God’s love takes in the event of the cross. The notions of love and justice are not theologically meaningful independent of and prior to the actualization of God’s just love in the concrete reality of Jesus Christ. The attempt to define them in advance and then figure out how they relate theologically results in this intractable debate.

5. This whole debate also seems to take for granted the notion that eschatology refers to something “beyond death,” that is, beyond each person’s individual perishing. Maybe that’s something we need to reconsider as well.
 

 

continue to -

 

Index to past articles on "Calvinism v. Arminianism"

 

 



 

Is There a Protestant Purgatory?

I have attempted to provided some further discussion upon this area in the article "LOST in Purgatory? Parts 1 & 2" but would encourage that the reader first read Dr. Olson's opinions before proceeding.

R.E. Slater

March 20, 2012

Is There a Protestant Purgatory?

http://www.patheos.com/community/rogereolson/2010/09/07/protestant-purgatory/

by Roger Olson

September 7, 2010

For some years now I’ve been wrestling with the concept of purgatory and wondering whether evangelical Christians should adopt some version of it. C. S. Lewis held to a version of purgatory while rejecting the classical Roman Catholic view.

Sidebar: Once again, as I write, I am aware that some critics out there may rip what I say out of context (because they have in the past) and publicly accuse me of adopting a Roman Catholic doctrine. I can see the (admittedly small) headline in some state Baptist newspaper now: “Baptist seminary professor Roger Olson headed toward Rome!” Some of you far removed from the “Baptist wars” of the last 25 years (mainly in the South) may think this is paranoia, but you think wrongly. One influential critic invented a quote (about open theism) and attributed it to me and disseminated it to Baptist state newspapers across the South. So, if you are one of “those” please be fair (if you’re capable of it) and explain that my hypothesis of purgatory is just that–a hypothesis for discussion (technically called a theologoumenon - "a theological statement or concept in the area of individual opinion rather than of authoritative doctrine") and very different from the Roman Catholic doctrine.

What stimulated this thought process was my intensive study of Christian leaders and theologians of the past in preparation to write The Story of Christian Theology. During that research I discovered things I had never heard or read about great evangelical “heroes” of the past such as Augustine, Luther, Zwingli and Calvin.

In a wonderful little book entitled My Conversation with Martin Luther the late Lutheran theologian Timothy Lull described his imaginary dialogues with Luther in which he discovered that the German reformer had to take classes in paradise about Judaism to correct his anti-semitism.

The question that bothers me is this: How can we picture men (and perhaps some women) who absolutely hated people entering into the joys of paradise without some kind of correction? Of course, as a committed Protestant I cannot imagine paradise or heaven as a place of completion of one’s salvation. But I can imagine a justified person being greeted at the gate by St. Peter (imagery) saying “Hello. Yes, you’re name is in the book. But before entering fully into the joys of this place you’ll need to take a class taught by [so-and-so] and experience correction and reconciliation.” And I can imagine every truly saved person saying “Yes! Of course. Thank you. Let’s get started.” In other words, I don’t envision this “purgatory” as suffering except in the sense that all correction involves some suffering. But for the truly saved person true correction is also a blessing.

Let me use the four evangelical heroes mentioned above as case studies. Augustine clearly despised heretics and called on the empire to eradicate by violence those that would not submit to his church. The heretics in question were the schismatic (as he called them) Donatists.

Luther hated Zwingli and the “radicals” as well as (late in life) Jews. When Zwingli was killed in battle defending Zurich Luther said it served him right for holding false views of the Lord’s Supper. We all know about his vicious attacks (in writing) on the peasants, the Anabaptists and Jews.

Zwingli invited Anabaptist leader Balthasar Hubmaier to Zurich for a debate. When Hubmaier arrived Zwingli had him arrested and tortured. During the torture Zwingli stood in the room calling on Hubmaier to recant his “heresies” which he did. (Later, after being released, Hubmaier recanted his recantation.)

Now we come to Calvin. What concerned me last year–the 500th anniversary of Calvin’s birth–was all the hoopla about what a great evangelical hero he was without hardly a word about his condoning the burning of Servetus.

My favorite monthly periodical, Christianity Today, celebrated Calvin’s legacy throughout the year. (One article did mention the Servetus episode.) The editors asked me to write an article about what I disagree the most with in Calvin’s life and theology. I wrote it and mentioned his treatment of Servetus. After submitting it the editors asked me to re-write. The new assignment was to write about what I, as an Arminian, agree with in Calvin’s theology. I was happy to fulfill both assignments. And I understood CT’s reasons for the change: its editorial policy is to remain mostly positive. I gladly wrote about Calvin’s emphasis on the Holy Spirit.

I attended a conference celebrating Calvin’s life and thought at my alma mater–Sioux Falls Seminary. Understandably, none of the presenters (that I heard) mentioned Calvin’s treatment of Servetus or his dictator-like ruling of Geneva. (Yes, yes, I know. He held no civil post in the city. But as its “chief pastor” he was extremely influential over the city council expecially after his return to Geneva.)

What was ironic was that during the conference I was reading the most recent scholarly biography of Calvin: Calvin by Bruce Gordon. Gordon reveals Calvin warts and all. It is by no means the typical evangelical hagiography (sic, "the idealized biography of a saint or a venerated personage"), but neither is it in any way anti-Calvin. The portions about the Servetus affair are especially interesting. For example, many, if not most, of Calvin’s Reformed colleagues throughout Switzerland and the Rhineland harshly criticized him for it. And he took full responsibility for it even though he preferred beheading over burning and technically the city council, not Calvin, condemned Servetus.

Of course, I knew much about the Servetus affair before reading Gordon’s biography. But most of it was from Reformed hagiographies of Calvin. The Calvin revealed by my research and by Gordon absolutely hated Servetus and others.

Now most evangelicals like to say of Calvin that he was “a child of his times.” Well, not exactly. As I said, even other Reformed theologians and chief pastors criticized him for this medieval act. Burning heretics was gradually becoming a thing of the past in much of Europe–especially in Protestant lands. Exile was the more typical treatment. I wonder if excusing someone’s hateful, vengeful and violent treatment of those with whom they disagree is really excusable just because they lived long ago?

So, with regard to Augustine, Luther, Zwingli and Calvin (among others) I’m faced with a dilemma. Are they in paradise now? Are they enjoying the bliss of being in the presence of Jesus? I am not their judge, but I would like to think so. But that presses me back to considering some concept like purgatory. Lull’s little dialogue book gave me the possible answer. (Remember–I’m talking about a hypothesis and not a new doctrine.)

What’s wrong with a Protestant believing that upon entering paradise a hate-filled Christian leader of the past who condoned torture and even murder (I don’t know what else to call the burning of Servetus even though it was technically legal–we still call “legal” stonings of women in certain countries “murder”) has to take a spiritually therapeutic “class” of correction?

I can imagine (only imagine, you realize!) Zwingli entering the pearly gates (imagery–because there’s no reason to believe paradise has gates!) and being greeted by Hubmaier who says “Ulrich, it’s nice to see you here. I’ve completely forgiven you. But Christ has assigned me as your tutor and guide during your orientation to paradise. Here, sit down, let me offer you some correction about treatment of people with whom you disagree.”

You might wonder–why call that “purgatory?” Well, don’t you suppose (as I do) that Zwingli would view it as a kind of purgatory? That is–as a kind of purgation of his errors and hateful attitudes? Imagine Zwingli having to sit at Hubmaier’s feet and learn from him! Could this be the meaning of 1 Corinthians 3:15?

I have trouble exonerating Augustine, Luther, Zwingli and Calvin of their hate-filled diatribes against and treatment of those they considered heretics. And I think typical evangelical (and other) treatments of them have been too gentle and even sometimes dishonest. Last year I could not “celebrate” the life of the man Calvin. From all that I have learned of him, he was a despicable character filled with hate against many, if not all, who criticized him. With his blessing if not at his urging the city council arrested and jailed Genevans who criticized him. But I could and did celebrate certain aspects of Calvin’s theological contribution–especially his strong emphasis on the Holy Spirit so often overlooked by his contemporary followers.

Purgatory? Well, perhaps that’s not a felicitous name for the phenomenon I am imagining. But I can’t think of a better name right now. C. S. Lewis called it purgatory while distancing his idea of it from the typical Roman Catholic explanations of it. (Although I suspect some contemporary Catholics think of it more along the lines I have outlined here than with the medieval imagery of it. One Catholic priest explained it to my class as a kind of “counseling.”)

Do I really believe in it? Well, that’s another question. I have no particular biblical basis for it, so, no, I don’t exactly believe in it in the same way I believe in the deity of Christ or the resurrection. But I find it the only acceptable alternative, for me, anyway, to thinking of great Christian heroes of the past being in hell.

Response to a Good Book about Purgatory

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/rogereolson/2012/03/1230/

by Roger Olson

posted March 19, 2012

Some months ago I posted some thoughts here about purgatory. I endorsed an idea that had little resemblance to any traditional Catholic idea of purgatory, but some people are apparently so fixated on that word that its very appearance made them think I was affirming the Catholic idea of purgatory. I wasn’t. I admitted some sympathy with C. S. Lewis’ idea in The Great Divorce and other writings that perhaps there is a place after death for forgiven people where they can complete their spiritual formation. I represented it as educative rather than punitive. For me it was not part of hell or between heaven and hell but a part of paradise where people who die in Christ on account of God’s grace received by faith are brought to complete repentance and total transformation of character. In other words, it is a place for the completion of sanctification. Not because entire sanctification is a requirement for salvation (as forgiveness, reconciliation, heaven) but because it is a requirement for the full beatific vision of God. This idea of “purgatory” (which has little or nothing to do with medieval images of punishment” was expressed by Lewis in several ways. Here is what he wrote in Letters to Malcolm:

“Our souls demand Purgatory, don’t they? Would it not break the heart if God said to us “It is true, my son, that your breath smells and your rags drip with mud and slime, but we are charitable here and no one will upbraid you with these things, nor draw away from you. Enter into joy”? Should we not reply “With submission, sir, and if there is no objection, I’d rather be cleansed first.” “It may hurt, you know”—“Even so, sir.”

This is quoted on page 164 of a new book by evangelical philosopher Jerry Walls. The book is the third in his series on life after death. The others were on hell and heaven. This one is entitled Purgatory: The Logic of Total Transformation (Oxford, 2012). In it he advocates Protestant embrace of an idea of purgatory that, in my opinion, has little to nothing to do with popular ideas of purgatory and therefore probably should not be called that. Toward the book’s end he says of his idea of purgatory “This is not purgatory as a frightful threat, but as a gracious promise.” (175) Here is the clearest statement of his thesis:

“Critics of the doctrine [purgatory] often have a tendency, sometimes inveterately so, to depict it as a matter of salvation by works and then to reject it highhandedly in the name of grace. However, to pit purgatory against grace is to fail completely to grasp that purgatory itself is very much a matter of grace. To draw this contrast is to ignore the fact that grace is much more than forgiveness, that it is also sanctification and transformation, and finally, glorification. We need more than forgiveness and justification to purge our sinful dispositions and make us fully ready for heaven. Purgatory is nothing more than the continuation of the sanctifying grace we need, for as long as necessary to complete the job, as Lewis put it.” (p. 174)

Walls basically endorses Lewis’ idea of purgatory and argues that it is not far from, if different at all from, post-Vatican 2 Catholic ideas of purgatory. I can verify this as I have had several well-informed Catholic theologians speak to my classes over the past thirty years and all of them (with one possible exception—a very conservative priest who still said mass in Latin) affirmed to me and my students that, for them, purgatory is not punishment but spiritual therapy and that it will be welcomed by those who spend time there.

Walls’ book covers goes into great detail about the history of the doctrine of purgatory, how the Catholic doctrine developed and differs from Eastern Orthodoxy’s idea of life after death (not purgatory per se but nevertheless a kind of spiritual formation such that prayers for the dead can be efficacious for them), and reasons for the Protestant reformers’ rejections of the doctrine (largely because in that time it was being taught as the reason for buying indulgences). Walls also covers all the biblical and philosophical reasons for purgatory. He admits that there is no proof for purgatory; it is a deduction and opinion only. He does not want Protestants to make a doctrine of it; he is simply presenting it as an option. One goal is clearly to ease ecumenical relations between Catholics and Protestants.

One thing about Walls’ book that will turn off even some Protestants who may sympathize with his idea of purgatory is his extension of that into postmortem opportunity for salvation for those who never have opportunity to accept Christ in life before death—for example children. One thing I find ironic here is that all Calvinists I know believe all children who die in infancy, or before the age of accountability, are elect and go straight to paradise. Where is the biblical proof of that? That seems to me a deduction from the goodness of God, but Calvinists who believe it don’t seem to think God’s goodness requires universal atonement! To me, the same logic that applies with children applies to the atonement. Anyway, it’s ironic that Walls, an Arminian, does not assume all children who die in infancy or before the age of accountability go straight to paradise while most Calvinists do!

I say Purgatory: The Logic of Total Transformation is a good book because it is well-researched and well-written and makes some very good arguments if not compelling ones. At the end, I still don’t think purgatory is the right word for this place Walls describes and it certainly isn’t a good word for what I believe—at least not without qualifications. I think at least some great heroes of Christian faith (e.g., Luther) will have to undergo some education before entering into the fullness of heavenly bliss. Not because they aren’t forgiven but because they said, wrote or did things so absolutely antithetical to the love of Jesus Christ that they will want to repent of them. I’m thinking, for example, of Luther’s anti-semitism and of his advice to the German princes to slay the peasants mercilessly (knowing full well what that would mean). Let me bring it home. I believe that, when I die and arrive in paradise, I will want my Savior to teach me how to repent more perfectly—especially of things I was not aware, during my lifetime before death, were sinful. I also want to be corrected by God himself for my false beliefs and attitudes. It will be humbling but pleasant, possibly painful (not physically) but much appreciated.

Something Protestants should borrow from Catholics

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/rogereolson/2011/08/something-protestants-should-borrow-from-catholics/

by Roger Olson

posted on August 15, 2011

Earlier (some months ago now) I posted an essay here arguing for a Protestant version of purgatory. (Hold your fire unless you’ve read that post!)

Now I’d like to argue for a Protestant version of categories of sin–something like the Catholic categories of mortal and venial.

Recently someone commenting here repeated the Protestant cliche that all sins are equal. I think that is folk religion UNLESS it has been reflected on critically and a strong biblical case made for it. Far too many Protestants simply mindlessly repeat it having no idea that it conflicts with scripture, tradition, reason and experience.

Now, IF all it means is that all sins (like sinfulness itself!) offend God and harm (if not destroy) relationship with God…fine. We could easily transfer that to human experience and say that every little act of selfishness harms any relationship. But we also know from experience that, in a relationship of love, not every act of selfishness equally harms the relationship.

So what is my biblical evidence for this distinction between sins that can destroy a relationship with God (at least in this life if not in the next) and sins that harm but do not destroy it? Romans 14:23 says that whatever is not done with faith is sin. Can anyone claim he or she always does everything with faith? What about sins of ignorance and omission? Jesus talked about a sin that is unforgiveable. 1 John 5:14-17 talks about sins that are mortal and sins that are not mortal. This distinction appears throughout Christian history–even in the Protestant Reformation. But Protestants have generally relegated “mortal sin” to the one “unforgivable” sin.

I would like to suggest that this Protestant tradition (and the cliche that expresses it in folk religious style) is simply an over reaction to Catholicism. In fact, something LIKE the Catholic distinction between mortal and venial sins makes a lot of sense–biblically, rationally and experientially.

IF we say that all sins are equal, even “in God’s sight,” then we have to say that kidnapping, raping and murdering a little child is on the same level as telling someone their new hair style is becoming when it isn’t. That just doesn’t make sense. Sure, of course, both child murder and the “little white lie” offend God but surely not equally!

Let’s apply a little mind experiment to test this. Suppose a true Christian–a saved person–gives into an awful impulse and rapes and murders a child and does NOT repent of it. Then suppose another real Christian–a saved person–gives in to the temptation to deceive a co-worker with a hideous new hair style by saying “It’s so pretty” and does NOT repent of it (for whatever reason but for the sake of argument let’s say she forgets about it).

Do both sins equally break the persons’ relationships with God? (Let’s not get into a debate about “once saved, always saved” over this. For now, in this context, I am simply asking whether both sins equally damage a person’s fellowship with God in this life.) Will God equally withdraw his blessing from each person? Will communion with God be damaged equally by both sins not repented of? I think that’s ludicrous–to think so.

I remember these debates in church youth group and in Sunday School–many years ago. We were told by some of our mentors that every little sin, including a “little white lie,” breaks off your relationship with God until you repent of it. But we were also told (sometimes by the same mentor!) that the condition of “sinfulness” causes everyone to commit sins of omission and ignorance but these are “covered” by the “blood of Jesus” so that they do not break off fellowship with God or God’s blessing. (Although we were also always encouraged to ask God’s forgiveness in “blanket style”–for all our sins known and unknown to us.)

What is that but something LIKE the Catholic doctrine of mortal versus venial sins? And yet, our mentors would ALSO say “All sins are equal.” I remember struggling with these contradictions but being afraid to point them out or ask for clarification. Then–during my years in a fundamentalist Bible college I DID ask about them and was harshly criticized for doing so!

So what would a Protestant version of categorizations of sin look like? I see no problem with borrowing the terminology “mortal” and “venial” sin from Catholic theology, but I know many especially evangelical Protestants will choke on those words EVEN IF they agree that not all sins are equal in terms of damaging our relationship with God. However, I haven’t come up with alternative single words for the two categories. Do we necessarily need them?

I suggest we teach our people that there are sins that damage and even break off one’s personal relationship with God and that SHOULD result in church discipline if discovered–unless the person repents. Some of them should result in the committer being barred from some levels of leadership for a time of restoration. (The fact that many Protestant denominations and churches already so this supports my contention that most Protestants really do NOT believe “all sins are equal!”) Then there are sins that do NOT break off a saved person’s relationship with God even if no specific repentance follows. We don’t have to say these are harmless or unimportant; we can say that if they become practice and a part of a person’s lifestyle they CAN add up to serious sin that harms or even breaks off the relationship with God.

In my book Questions to All Your Answers I have a chapter on this issue and I use an example from my own family history. I recall that occasionally a letter would arrive not postmarked so that the stamp could be cut off the envelope and re-used. My father insisted it was okay to do that. My stepmother insisted it was sin to do that. My brother and I listened with some amusement (but also confusion) to their discussions about this. Now, one of my parents was right and the other one was wrong. But let’s say my stepmother was right and, in God’s sight, re-using the stamp was a sin. Did re-using one break my father’s relationship with God? I can’t imagine it. Years later he was caught embezzling from his church. Did that break off his relationship with God? (I’m not talking about the being caught but the first willful, conscious, presumptuous theft he did not repent of.) I think so–unless and until he repented.

Now, was there some connection between my father’s re-using a stamp and his later embezzling from his church? Perhaps. But that doesn’t make them equal! What it means is that even those things we think are not sin but MAY BE should be carefully considered and avoided if possible–but not to the point of scrupulosity about everything (like Luther’s spending hours in confession confessing every thought that might possibly be sinful until his confessor told him to go away and not come back until he had something really sinful to repent of!).

In short, I think “all sins are equal” is simply a cliche. We should drop it–and challenge it when overheard. It doesn’t make any sense–biblically, in terms of the Great Tradition, rationally or experientially.

The Search for the Historical Adam 6

The Search for the Historical Adam 6

http://musingsonscience.wordpress.com/2011/08/16/the-search-for-the-historical-adam-6/#more-776

by rjs5

posted on August 16, 2011

We have been working through the recent book by C. John Collins entitled Did Adam and Eve Really Exist?: Who They Were and Why You Should Care. This book looks at the question of Adam and Eve from a relatively conservative perspective but with some nuance and analysis. The questions he poses and the answers he gives provide a good touchstone for interacting with the key issues. Later this fall we will look at the question of Adam from an equally faithful, but less conservative, perspective in the context of a new book coming out by Peter Enns entitled The Evolution of Adam: What the Bible Does and Doesn’t Say about Human Origins.

Chapter 3 of Dr. Collins’s book looks at the biblical and extra-biblical texts concerning Adam. In the last two posts we looked specifically at Dr. Collins’s discussion of Gen 1-5 and at the OT and the extra-canonical literature. These sections are not the ones that cause most Christians difficulty though – the New Testament references, and especially the relationship of the creation story to the theology taught by Paul – these are the big issues.

I have received several e-mails while working through this series, and the big questions in all of them are theological, not scientific or even biblical (i.e. arising from biblicism). These people are willing to accept the conclusions of science (with some reservations), and have a nuanced view of the authority of scripture (again with some variance). But still, there are serious issues here. The issues begin, but do not end, with the theology surrounding the concept of sin.

This is not a topic easily dealt with in one, or even a dozen, blog posts (or sermons, or academic monographs). There are no quick, pithy answers or rejoinders.

What NT texts cause the most concern for an evolutionary view of human origins?

Where does this impact our theology?

NT references to Gen 1-5 apart from Paul. Dr. Collins breaks his consideration of the NT texts into three categories – the Gospels, Paul, and the rest of the NT. The first and third don’t provide much guidance on the question of Adam. The references to Gen 1-5 in the gospels are passing references, we should not put too much emphasis on them. Dr. Collins suggests that the Gospel writers portray Jesus as one who believed that Adam and Eve were historical and that their disobedience changed things for us (p. 78). I think that the Gospel writers portray Jesus as a biblically literate Jewish male who was steeped in the scripture and the culture – he was localized in a time and place. What he thought about historicity can’t be discerned, and our opinion of this rests in part on what we take as the consequences of incarnation.

The references in the rest of the NT outside of the writings of Paul are likewise incidental, and the truth claims of the passages do not depend on the historicity of Gen 1-5 or Gen 1-11. The references in Revelation are, by the very nature of the book, clothed in figurative language. The writer of Hebrews (11:4-7) may assume historicity, but it is of no real import to our discussion or his truth claim.

The Teachings of Paul. The references to Adam and to Gen 1-3 in the writings of Paul are more substantive and require much more care and thought. Some of the references are incidental and subject to the same kinds of caveats above. Dr. Collins points to 1 Cor. 11:7-12, 2 Cor. 11:3 and 1 Tim 2:13-14 as examples of incidental references. The arguments in these passages do not depend on the historicity of Adam. Thus they are only compelling for our view of Adam in the context of some assumption of what scripture must be (what we might class as a biblicist view).

There are three passages, however, that Dr. Collins points to as foundational – where Paul’s understanding of Adam is not incidental to his point. In these cases an argument can be made that the historicity of Adam in some sense is essential to the truth claims made by Paul. Dr. Collins sees this in three passages – 1 Cor. 15:20-23, 42-49, Romans 5:12-19, and Acts 17:26. Thus he spends most of the chapter discussing these three passages.

1 Cor. 15: Today I would like to consider 1 Cor. 15, where Paul begins with his statement of the gospel.

Now I make known to you, brethren, the gospel which I preached to you, which also you received, in which also you stand, by which also you are saved, if you hold fast the word which I preached to you, unless you believed in vain. For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received, that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, and that He was buried, and that He was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures (1 Cor. 15:1-4)

Paul lays out his view of the gospel here – Christ died for our sins, was buried, and was raised on the third day, all according to the Scriptures, the plan and prophecy of the OT. This is our creed. In this passage Paul argues that the resurrection of Jesus is real and is essential to the Christian gospel.

and if Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is vain, your faith also is vain. … If we have hoped in Christ in this life only, we are of all men most to be pitied. (1 Cor. 15: 14,19)

For a more complete discussion of resurrection Dr. Collins refers the reader to NT Wright’s book The Resurrection of the Son of God.

1 Cor. 15:20-23. So far we have no reference to Gen 1-5, but this changes when Paul expounds on the importance of the resurrection. The issue for our topic here is v. 21,22:

For since by a man came death, by a man also came the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ all will be made alive.

The expressions “in Adam” and “in Christ” are covenantal language.

… to be “in Adam” means to be a member of the people for which Adam serves as the covenantal representative. This membership sets up a kind of solidarity, where what happens to the representative affects all members of the group, and vice versa. One prominent Pauline scholar has used the term “interchange” to describe the notion of mutual participation in a common life. (p. 79)

The prominent scholar referred to here is Morna Hooker, specifically her book From Adam to Christ: Essays on Paul. Dr. Collins continues:

The person Adam is an individual who serves a public role as a representative, and there is no evidence that one can be covenantally “in” someone who had no historical existence. Indeed Paul seems to take for granted that something happened to “all” as a result of Adam’s deeds as a representative, just as something will happen to “all” as a result of Christ’s representative deeds. (pp. 79-80)

But Dr. Collins goes a bit further than this covenant relationship – he sees Paul’s claim as requiring a historical event as well. Adam is not merely representative, but is also a cause – he did something that has consequences for those he represents just as Jesus did something to correct the problem for those he represents.

1 Cor. 15: 45-49. Paul’s argument in 1 Cor. 15 returns to Adam a little further on in his discussion of resurrection.

So also it is written, “The first man, Adam, became a living soul.” The last Adam became a life-giving spirit. However, the spiritual is not first, but the natural; then the spiritual. The first man is from the earth, earthy; the second man is from heaven. As is the earthy, so also are those who are earthy; and as is the heavenly, so also are those who are heavenly. Just as we have borne the image of the earthy, we will also bear the image of the heavenly. (I’ve quoted the NASB – Collins uses the ESV)

This text is dense and difficult to interpret. Dr. Collins refers to NT Wright’s discussion of the text in The Resurrection of the Son of God, which he cites and quotes, “with approval” (p. 81-82). The resurrection of Jesus is embedded in a theology that views embodied humanity as a feature of God’s good creation. The resurrection of Jesus is the starting point for God’s rescue and renewal of his people – as embodied beings. We are not rescued from our embodied nature but rescued to “go on to the promised final state of the final Adam, in which this physical body will not be abandoned, but will be given new animation by the creator’s own Spirit.” (p. 353 RSOG)

From all I’ve read and heard from Dr. Wright on this topic I would venture to suggest that he does not take the position that we must have a historical Adam, nor does he consider Adam and the fall someone or something to dispensed with lightly. Rather we need to hold parts of the story with an open hand and do some serious theological, biblical, and scientific work.

[Additionally], Dr. Wright and Dr. Collins both reject a strictly typological interpretation of Adam in this narrative. Dr. Collins quotes Wright:

This [argument from Gen 2:7] is not typological (two events related in pattern but not necessarily in narrative sequence), but narratival: Gen 2:7 begins a story which, in the light of vv. 20-28, and the analogies of vv. 35-41, Paul is now in a position to compete. (p. 82 quoting p. 354 n. 128 RSOG)

Dr. Collins concludes that Paul’s argument “presupposes Adam as an actual character in the narrative” (p. 82). Adam and the reference to the events of Genesis 2-3 are not incidental to the message of Paul but is an important part of his truth claim. This does not necessarily mean that Adam and Eve are the unique progenitors of the human race (two people from whom alone all subsequent people descend), but that the existence of a real person and a real fall is, according to Dr. Collins, an integral part of the gospel of 1 Cor. 15.

This post is already long – I will return to consider the other two passages, Romans 5 and Acts 17, in the next post. For now we can consider the significance of the 1 Cor. 15 reference to Adam.

Do you think that Paul’s argument here rests on the historicity of Adam and the fall?

Could the argument rest on the empirical observation of human falleness rather than a person and an act?

On what do you base your argument for your position?

If you wish to contact me directly you may do so at rjs4mail[at]att.net

If you have comments please visit The Search for the Historical Adam 6 at Jesus Creed.

A Dynamic Faith Requires Dynamic Restatement

Theology: Doing Away with Childish Things

http://www.jrdkirk.com/2011/08/16/theology-doing-away-with-childish-things/

by J.R. Daniel Kirk

posted August 16, 2011

In yesterday’s post, I waxed… um… something… about life being dynamic, and not simply a set of givens. Where I had intended to end up was this: the church once upon a time had the luxury of thinking that Christian faith was a set of givens, and that accepting these givens was a necessary and sufficient expression of Christian faith.

The content of this childhood dream was The Rule of Faith.

It wasn’t a bad dream. But it was a child’s dream.

The Hobbit wasn’t a bad story, but it was a child’s story. It was a there-and-back-again tale. The story of Frodo was no child’s story, but a tale of death from which there was no “back again,” even if one was fortunate enough to arrive back home.

After 2,000 years, we know that the world, and the philosophy through which we assess it, is not simply a set of givens.

We, as Christians, are part of the dynamic process through which the church’s faith continues to be articulated. We live in a world that is changing, and the transformed context of knowledge and experience changes what we must say and how we must say it. And, God is still at work in the world, and so we must allow that God, too, is a dynamic participant in this ever-changing process.

These are some of the realities behind the failure of a rule of faith to bind the church as one. When Irenaeus said to his opponents, “You are wrong because the church has always said…” He was, in essence, claiming, “You disagree with us–because you disagree with us! Hah!”

There comes a time when we have to recognize that the continuance of the church itself cannot lean on the given of two millennia ago. Perhaps that church needs, now, to be disagreed with.

Perhaps what we thought was a given needs to be reaffirmed, restated given that the parties in the agreement (the church and its members) are both completely different now.

The idea that one statement, or a cluster of like statements, can continue to define the relationship for two thousand years rests on a static view of the world that does not measure up to reality. The church did not “arrive” when it articulated the rule of faith. It said what needed to be said [for its time in] circa AD 200.

But this does not answer the question of what is necessary or sufficient to be said or done in AD 2000. We must regularly say afresh what needs to be said. This is not only because the world is dynamic and in flux, and not only because the church is dynamic and in flux, but also because God continues to be dynamically at work in both the world and the church.

About J. R. Daniel Kirk: Professor at Fuller Seminary, resident of San Francisco, consumer of dark chocolate, brewer of dark beer, reader of Flannery O'Connor, watcher of the Coen Brothers, listener of The Mountain Goats.

Peter Rollins - Unbelieving the Lies We Tell Ourselves

ThinkFWD - Pete Rollins - Resurrection as Insurrection

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DYtBUvfYTUE&feature=player_embedded

Pete Rollins – Resurrection as Insurrection

Interview by Spencer Burke

Posted February 2, 2010


Recap

What we believe emanates from who we are. And who we are is not about dogma, or even about moral behavior, but about dying to ourselves. This is part of the conversation between ThinkFwd host, Spencer Burke, and Pete Rollins, author of How Not to Speak of God and The Orthodox Heretic. They explore the ideas of truth and God, of resurrection and insurrection.

Truth, says Rollins, is not one extreme or the other; it’s not the middle of the extremes. Truth is at both extremes. While traditional Christians say, “God is present. God exists, and Christianity is true;” atheists say “God isn’t there and Christianity isn’t true.” These two extremes push Rollins to explore a 3rd position and he likens it to the story of Jesus on the cross, when He felt forsaken by God– God not present–and yet God was completely present.

And so the 3rd position dwells in the very place in between. Rollins says Christians are called to dwell not on one side of the other, but in the very split that Christ opens up: between old and new; between Judaism and Christianity.

Rollins and Burke turn to the idea of self. What is our true self? Can we disagree ideologically and philosophically, and at the end of the day still be friends and go out for drinks together? Can we have a public and private profile that are at odds? Rollins believes the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves are a type of fiction. That our conscious self is an idealized representation of who we are.

We can say we believe certain things, but the truth of who we are plays out in the reality of our lives. And our goal is to bring the stories we tell ourselves (I’m a good person, I’m loving, I’m kind) in line with the reality of who we are. For Rollins, the truth is, he aspires to believe in God. To live a life of mercy, faithfulness, self-control. But we are not truly living Christian lives unless we are dying to ourselves—participating in the death and resurrection of Christ.

This Easter, Rollins is doing a pub tour, “I believe in the insurrection.” What is it about? It’s about being invited to transformation. Rollins thinks the apostle Paul had it right. Paul doesn’t talk about who Jesus hung out with. Or about Jesus’ miracles. He says that being a Christian is participating in the death and resurrection of Christ. You die, and you are reborn. You can say, “I believe x, y, and z” but if you don’t think about where you live, and the work you do, and how your consumerism affects others, then that is the truth of your life, not what you SAY you believe. And so the resurrection, the insurrection is about dying, being reborn, transformed, so we are no long the same.

Learn to Unlearn and Let Go

narrow gate, wide gate: a story about letting go.

http://theloverevolution.org.uk/2010/05/narrow-gate-wide-gate-a-story-about-letting-go/

Artikel von theloverevolution
theloverevolution’s Webseite

words and meanings to keep in mind.

sha`ar – gate; opening, city/town,

halak – through; walk; torah

enter- be invited into

In Jewish life-philosophy there seems to be this trend. A trend marked out by two choices. One of life and one of death. We see this throughout the Old Testament. Jeremiah is [where] some of the inspiration for the words of Jesus [found] in Matthew amongst other non-biblical sources, including the Sirach and the Dead Sea Scrolls to name a few.

Jeremiah 21:8 (New International Version)

8 “Furthermore, tell the people, ‘This is what the LORD says: See, I am setting before you the way of life and the way of death."

Jesus is playing on the idea of choice. That on a daily basis we have to make a decision to follow the crowd (wide is the gate) or to be art of the minority. In context, Jesus is talking about teaching. Since the verses surrounding it speak of false teachers. These verses then become about how people use Torah. Jesus deals with false prophets in this context. False prophets think they are doing what God wants them to do. But they too are given a choice. They can either unlearn what they have been taught (narrow gate) or maintain their practices and travel into the wide gate.

[Entering] into Jerusalem there were many gates. Some of them were narrow. Jesus alludes to this same gate when he talks about the camel coming through the eye of a needle, which is a direct reference to one of the gates which happened to be called ‘eye of the needle’. Jesus was referring then to what he could also be referring to now. To enter through the narrow gate you had to unpack everything. Unload all that you came with. Everything you knew you had to leave behind to get through. All your theology. All of your answers. To get through the gate you had to let go of everything.

But, the wide gate was easy.

You could take everything with you. You could [take] all of the things you learned and keep them close like a blanket. You could accrue even more as you went along and still had room for more. You could keep consuming as much as you wanted because the wide road had room for that. The wide gate invited you in. It gave you the feeling of having arrived. The feeling of arrival makes you feel safe and secure because you have the answers.

The wide gate is safety.

Couched in context, Jesus is giving the Jewish scholars a choice. Either they unlearn everything that have come to know and experience heaven (a metaphor for a perfect reality) or keep all that they had mentally amassed and end up living their life as it was not meant to be lived (hell).

Later on in verse 22, Jesus starts talking about a day when people might use flash terminology to get in God’s good books. In context, the person speaking to God already knows the words. Knows how to address God as ‘Lord, Lord’. Remember, Jesus is talking about people who aren’t using the Torah correctly and the false prophets. So he is saying that there are some religious people who think its about saying the right things. Its about scripting God. Or that by simply having information one can experience the divine.

And it's as if Jesus says God will get amnesia. God will forget. God will turn his back on those who live their life on stage. These are terms of Judgement, I might add that they are a warning not what is going to happen, but what might happen if these ‘know-it-all’s’ keeping walking through the wide gate. I also don’t think the point of this short story is whether God is angry enough to deny people access to Him. Again, heaven is a metaphor for a perfect state of experience. Jesus is saying that there are behaviours that can impede our experience of the Divine. That by excluding others, depending upon our own answers (theology), and denying ourselves the willingness to let it all go will keep us in the wide gate.

Jesus is giving us the choice, daily. To give it all up and unlearn what we think we know. To be a blank slate toward the day(s) ahead. To be open to receive. To be an open vessel. To hold what we know lightly. When we do this, when we choose to not take ourselves so seriously, we [will] get to enjoy life as it was meant to be. Jesus wasn’t.

Kutless

I've heard Kutless a couple times in concert this year and wanted to share their music and testimonies with you. They have a mix of old and new songs that appeal to all listeners but for my taste I'd like them to go more with the hard rock whenever they get into it. When they do its pure joy. Here are musical samples, promos, trailers and interviews with this amazing Christian band. - sh

KUTLESS

Portland, Oregon

http://www.kutless.com/default.aspx

 

 

 

Encountering the Monster That I Am

http://peterrollins.net/?p=2988

by Peter Rollins

posted August 9, 2011

At various times I have discussed the idea of encountering our own monstrosity through an encounter with the other. Recently someone asked me to give a concrete example to help her understand what I meant. I wanted to offer something rather mundane, something that would not expose me too much. But I could not deny that one situation overshadowed all the others. It was something that happened when I was in my early twenties. An event that I am, understandably, very embarrassed about.

One evening I was with a group of dear friends in a dingy bar in Belfast. As usual our conversations jumped around from the sublime to the ridiculous. I can’t remember now what the conversations were, but I do remember one point where someone said “that is so gay” to a comment from one of those in the group. This comment was then repeated a number of times at various points in the evening, probably even by me, although I don’t recall (no doubt because I don’t want to).

A few days later I happened to be out with one of the people who was part of that group. We were just catching up and having small talk when he stopped mid sentence, looked right at me, and said, “Pete, I am gay, can you imagine how I must have felt when everyone started using the term ‘Gay’ to describe what they thought was unmanly and embarrassing the other night.”

At that moment I was undone. I wanted to defend myself by pointing out my disgust with homophobia, by telling him that I would never align myself with anyone who had an issue with same sex relationships and that I think those who would misuse a pseudo philosophy, psychology or theology to justify their inherent prejudices ought to be exposed in their game of rationalisation. Yet I could not in all honesty do it. Instead I was brought to silence. I saw myself through the eyes of my friend, and I could not believe what I saw. I saw a monster.

It was only because I was given grace and understanding in that moment that I was able to face myself. This was a moment of crisis in that it was a moment in which I had to choose whether to defend myself or acknowledge the truth of what had been presented to me, horrible though it was.

So often we avoid confronting our own monstrosity by covering it over and avoiding anyone who might expose it. But it is the other who so often holds the key to our development. Not by presenting us with some new information, but rather by presenting us with something we already are, something we refuse to acknowledge.

John Stott - Authenticity Overcomes Controversy

http://kylearoberts.com/wordpress/?p=487

by Kyle Roberts

August 2, 2011

In the days following John Stott’s death, I have read numerous reflections and eulogies on his life, writings, and impact on evangelicalism and Christianity. He has been held up by the NY Times Nicholas Kristoff as a foil to the “blowhards” and has been honored by several Gospel Coalition voices as a defender of the centrality of Christ and the penal substitutionary understanding of the atonement. He dialogued with liberal mainline theologians and spoke regularly at conservative evangelical institutions, such as Wheaton College. During a chapel Q&A session at Wheaton, Stott responded to a student who asked him about his controversial annihilationist position, a notion that the unredeemed wicked will cease to exist after the general resurrection (they will be “burned up” in the flame of judgment). Stott’s modeled in his answer both a quest for the truth as well as a reverence for the authority of Scripture.

I have sometimes wondered, incidentally, why it is that annihilationism seems to be less threatening to conservative evangelicals than hopeful, inclusivistic universalism (the notion that everyone might eventually be saved through faith in Jesus)? I suspect, at least in Stott’s case, it has partly to do with his explicit attention to biblical texts in mounting his argument (and, correspondingly, with biblicism, as a high value in evangelical theology). Yet there are “evangelical universalists” today who are also mounting arguments from Scripture (see Gregory McDonald’s The Evangelical Universalist, for a good example).

In that controversial book referred to by that student, Stott wrote,

“Emotionally, I find the concept [of eternal conscious torment] intolerable and do not understand how people can live with it without either cauterizing their feelings or cracking under the strain. But our emotions are a fluctuating, unreliable guide to truth and must not be exalted to the place of supreme authority in determining it . . . my question must be — and is — not what does my heart tell me, but what does God’s word say?”

I suspect that Stott’s consistent reverence for Scripture and his stated desire to be faithful to biblical truth, enabled him to remain in the generally good graces of even the most conservative evangelicals. J.I. Packer, taking on Stott’s annihilationist position decades ago, concluded his essay by saying “it would be wrong for differences of opinion on this matter to lead to breaches of fellowship…”

In that 2003 chapel address I mentioned earlier, Stott answered a student who was looking for advice about evangelizing “post-modern people,” by saying that “I, myself, am persuaded that the major way in which the gospel can be presented to a post-modern age is not by anything we say but how we live. There needs to be in us Christian people an authenticity which cannot be denied, so there is no dichotomy between what we say and what we are…there must be no dichotomy between what we are in private and in public. What we say. What we are. That is authenticity. People have to see Christ in us and not just hear what we talk about.”

The admiration in these days expressed for the ministry and life of John Stott, despite an eschatological position that runs against the mainstream of conservative evangelical theology, can perhaps best be explained by the fact that he seemed to follow his own advice.

Authenticity can overcome controversy.

(for more reflections and a link to his 2003 talk, see this essay by David Malone)