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An extraordinary man - 4 May 2009

Last Saturday I had the privilege of spending 6 hours in the company of a small crowd of enthusiastic Christians talking about the life and work of Jonathan Edwards.

Many thanks to all who came for a warm welcome and a wonderfully thought-provoking day.

Here’s an outline of what I meant to say.

And here are a few very brief tasters:

Edwards was extraordinary. By many estimates, he was the most acute early American philosopher and the most brilliant of all American theologians. At least three of his many works – Religious Affections, Freedom of the Will, and The Nature of True Virtue – stand as masterpieces in the larger history of Christian literature. (George Marsden, Jonathan Edwards: A Life, p. 1)

I think the notion of liberty, consisting in a contingent self-determination of the will, as necessary to the morality of men’s dispositions and actions [...] almost inconceivably pernicious. (Edwards to John Erskine, 1757)

Thus it appears, if we consider matters strictly, there is no such thing as any identity or oneness in created objects, existing at different times, but what depends on God’s sovereign constitution. And so it appears, that the objection [...] is built on a false hypothesis: for it appears, that a divine constitution is the thing which makes truth, in affairs of this nature. (Edwards, Original Sin, p. 404)

If it be so, that true religion lies much in the affections, hence we may infer, that such means are to be desired, as have much of a tendency to move the affections. Such books, and such a way of preaching the Word, and administration of ordinances, and such a way of worshiping God in prayer, and singing praises, is much to be desired, as has a tendency deeply to affect the hearts of those who attend these means. (Edwards, Religious Affections, p. 121)

The inadequacy of law - 23 April 2009

The every-insightful Jam Cary speaks a lot of sense about the inadequacy of law, and the corresponding necessity of the gospel, to restrain evil and promote the good.

Living by faith - 22 April 2009

One of the reasons why Psalm 22 is so pastorally helpful is that the glorious conquest of the gospel reflected in the second half of the Psalm is expressed as a future hope, seen from the context of present suffering. Notice the shift to the future tense in v. 22 onwards: ‘I will tell’ (v. 22); ‘the afflicted shall eat … those who seek him shall praise’ (v. 26); ‘all the ends of the earth shall remember’ (v. 27); and so on. This contrasts markedly with the Psalmist’s present suffering earlier in the poem: ‘I cry’ (v. 1); ‘I am a worm’ (v. 6); ‘I am poured out’ (v. 14). Consequently, Psalm 22 provides a biblical window on the right way to express our expectancy of the future triumph of God’s kingdom in a time when we experience (in our little corner of the world) so little of it.

Perhaps the most obvious facet of the Psalm’s teaching in this connection is that the hope, though still future, is undimmed. The fact that it is not yet experienced does not make it any less certain. Nor does it make the vision of the future any less magnificent, or the anticipated extent of God’s rule any less total. The Psalm teaches us to believe what God has said about his Son’s triumph, even though we don’t (yet) see it as clearly as one day we will, and even though our present trials sometimes make it hard to believe that the world is headed in the right direction.

To live like this is to live by faith, in the sense that it is to believe what God has said about the future while that future is still unseen. Faith in the Bible, though sometimes connected with believing in what is intrinsically invisible (God, for example), is also often connected with believing in what is now invisible only because it hasn’t yet happened. Think for example of the future blessings to which the heroes of faith looked forward in Hebrews 11. Faith is thus confidence in the future manifestation of a victory already accomplished.

A spiritual banquet - 20 April 2009

Matthew Mason has written an excellent article on John Calvin’s theology of the Lord’s Supper. It was published in Churchman 117.4 (2003), pp. 329-346, and is now available online.

Here’s a potted version:

Whereas many believers neglect the Lord’s Supper (maybe because we’re [rightly] suspicious of Roman Catholic or Anglo-Catholic sacramentalism, or maybe because we [wrongly] regard it simply as a dispensable memorial), Calvin held it in high esteem, arguing that ‘the Lord’s table should have been spread at least once a week for the assembly of Christians’ (p. 329, quoting Calvin), since (contra Zwingli) it is not merely a memorial, but also ‘a banquet, whereby we feed on Christ’ (p. 334).

This doesn’t mean that we feed on Christ physically (contra Luther and Rome). Christ is seated in heaven; he’s not ‘in’ the bread and wine. Rather, ‘we are united to him by his Spirit,’ who ‘raises us up to heaven to feed spiritually on Christ’ (p. 337) by faith.

A double feeding takes place: ‘our souls are fed by the flesh and blood of Christ in the same way that bread and wine keep and sustain physical life’ (p. 337, quoting Calvin).

When we eat, we ‘participate’ in the body and blood of Christ. As the Apostle Paul says:

The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ? The bread that we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ? (1 Corinthians 10:16)

Pragmatism is traditionalism - 6 April 2009

In an earlier post, I noted Tuchman’s criticism of the realpolitik of the Rennaisance papacy under Julius II, whereby the Pope pursued what he regarded as good ends by what could only be regarded as corrupt means. Tuchman argues that under such circumstances ‘the process of gaining power employs means that degrade or brutalize the seeker, who wakes up to find that power has been possessed at the price of virtue – or moral purpose – lost’ (March of Folly, p. 103).

It’s worth pausing for a moment to ask why such pragmatism is such a bad idea. In one sense, pragmatism per se is OK. It’s fine to do things that work. The problem lies with pragmatism as a guide to moral decisions, resting on the (often unstated) dichotomy between ends and means, which in turn relies on the assumption that ends are morally significant whereas means (in themselves) are not.

This dichotomy, together with the assumption that underlies it, are unbiblical because the Bible speaks with complete authority and sufficient clarity on all the moral aspects of every decision we ever face. To deny this is to imply that God has left us in the dark about moral issues that matter to him. It is an attempt to ‘fence off’ some areas of human existence from the lordship of Christ, to claim that there are large slices of our lives where we can do what we like, where our Creator can safely be ignored.

The Bible knows no moral distinction between ends and means. A sinful action can never be justified on the grounds that it was a means to some other end, however laudable that end might be. The Bible just says, ‘Don’t sin’, and that’s the end of it.

In practice, this kind of pragmatism rejects Scripture as a guide to conduct, replacing it with whatever-we-think-works. In effect, it is a form of traditionalism, for it allows the word of God to be displaced by human conventions, human experience and human wisdom. And Jesus had some pretty uncompromising things to say about that.

Wrong motives - 26 March 2009

2 Samuel 24 says that ‘the LORD … incited David’ (v. 1) to take a census of the Israelites, an action that David later recognised (rightly) as sinful (v. 10). This text raises in a very pointed form one of the hardest questions in Christian theology (a question most commonly asked by inquisitive, thoughtful young Christians): How can God be sovereign over evil – indeed, cause people to commit evil acts – without himself being morally responsible for the evil committed?

Among the many things that might be said here, one important factor to bear in mind is that the LORD has different motives in causing people to commit such actions than the people themselves have in performing them. The (sinful) people intend evil, and their actions are therefore sinful; the LORD intends only good, and his actions are therefore holy. As Joseph said of his brothers’ wickedness: ‘you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good’ (Genesis 50:20).

Isaiah 9-10 helpfully draws attention to the importance of motives in determining the sinfulness or otherwise of an action.

Here the LORD promises to raise up Assyria as an agent of judgment against the wicked Northern Kingdom of Israel (10:5-6). The LORD acts righteously in doing this – consider the multitude of Israel’s sins in 9:8-10:4.

Yet at the same time the LORD threatens judgment against Assyria also (10:16-19) for the sinfulness of her (divinely appointed!) military campaign against Israel. For while the LORD’s motives are just and holy, Assyria is acting with very different motives:

He does not so intend … he says, “By the strength of my hand I have done it, and by my wisdom” (10:7, 13; cf. 15).

Thus the LORD’s (righteous) motives leave him morally blameless in decreeing Assyria’s conquest of Israel, which (because of Assyria’s unrighteous motives) leaves them morally culpable.

Building God’s City - 22 March 2009

John M. Frame, The Doctrine of the Christian Life. Chapter 45: What Is Culture?

Crystal clear, relentlessly logical, delightfully understated. How can anyone not love John Frame?

Scripture does not contain a definition of culture. (p. 854)

We use the term culture to describe anything that human beings work at to achieve. (p. 854)

We should make an important distinction between creation and culture. Creation is what God makes; culture is what we make. … Or, somewhat better: creation is what God makes by himself, and culture is what he makes through us. (p. 854)

Culture is not a creation, but something that God has commanded, or “mandated,” us to make. … (Gen. 1:28). … the “cultural mandate”. … This command governed everything Adam and Eve would do thereafter. It defines the very purpose of human life. (p. 854)

As we go back and look again at the various definitions of culture that people have offered, we can see that there is almost always a value element, a normative element. (p. 856)

Culture always involves evaluation, a common understanding, not only of what is, but also of what is good and right. (p. 857)

So now we can see how culture is related to religion. When we talk about values and ideals, we are talking about religion. … Culture and cult go together. (p. 858)

Every worldview, every philosophy, even if it professes to be nonreligious, has this totalitarian influence on human life, and, followed consistently, will dictate a certain kind of culture. Culture, therefore, is never religiously neutral. Everything in culture expresses and communicates a religious conviction; either faith in the true God or denial of him. (p. 858)

There are some kinds of goodness even in pagan culture. [These are products of] common grace, nonsaving grace. (p. 860)

The other source of goodness, of course, is God’s special grace, his work of saving the world through Christ. This work of God goes far beyond common grace. (p. 861)

Does God’s saving grace make an impact on culture? Certainly it does. When you believe in Jesus, your whole life changes direction … Whether you eat, or drink, or whatever you do, you seek to do it for God’s glory. (p. 861)

The gospel, you see, is not only a message for individuals, telling them how to avoid God’s wrath. It is also a message about a kingdom, a society, a new community, and new covenant, a new family, a new nation, a new way of life, and, therefore, a new culture. God calls us to build a city of God, a New Jerusalem. (p. 861-862)

The two Johns - 19 March 2009

One of John Frame’s most significant contributions to Reformed theology, to my mind, is his application of perspectivalism to pretty much everything that crosses his path. Here’s a rough summary, with application to ethics:

I call these three ‘perspectives’ normative (the law), situational (the facts, the world), and existential (the person). The normative perspective studies Scripture as the moral law that applies to situations and persons … The situational perspective studies the world as a field of ethical action … The existential perspective studies the ethical subject – his griefs, his happiness, his capacities for making decisions (Frame, Doctrine of the Knowledge of God, pp. 74-75).

Though each perspective covers the same ground and will lead to the same conclusions, they nonetheless do so with different emphases, shedding light on different aspects of the issue under consideration.

Another John (Calvin, this time), sees a similar (though perhaps not identical) relationship between our knowledge of something ‘out there’ (God) and our (existential?) knowledge of ourselves. These two aspects of human knowledge are interdependent, in the sense that each sheds light on the other.

The knowledge of ourselves not only arouses us to seek God, but also, as it were, leads us by the hand to find him …

Man never achieves a clear knowledge of himself unless he has first looked upon God’s face … For we always seem to ourselves righteous and upright and wise and holy – this pride is innate in all of us – unless by clear proofs we stand convinced of our own unrighteousness, foulness, folly, and impurity. Moreover, we are not thus convinced if we look merely to ourselves and not also to the Lord, who is the sole standard by which this judgment must be measured. (Institutes, I.i.1-2)

This observation implies (among other things) an intriguing methodological conclusion: Calvin and Frame think in very similar ways without expressing themselves in the same terms. It would be easy to leap to the conclusion that Frame is onto something novel and quirky, merely on the grounds that he expresses things in a new way. In fact, Calvin was singing from the same hymn-sheet, just in a different language.

Disciple what? - 12 March 2009

The Great Commission (Matthew 28:18-20) is often read (rightly) as a charge to get on with evangelism. But there’s more to it than that. Here’s what it says:

And Jesus came and said to them, ‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations (matheteusate panta ta ethne), baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.’ (Matthew 28:18-20)

The Greek text of Matthew 28:19 (matheteusate panta ta ethne) should be translated, ‘disciple all the nations’, with ‘all the nations’ as the object of the verb. And it means exactly what it says.

Think about that for a moment.

If our Lord had wanted his followers merely to disciple people from every nation, there would have been at least three different ways of saying it, but Jesus chose none of them.

(FWIW, they are ek with the genitive [cf. Galatians 2:15; Revelation 5:9; 7:9; 11:9], en with the dative [cf. Acts 10:35], or apo with the genitive [cf. Acts 2:5; 15:19]).

As it stands, however, Matthew 28:19 is quite clear: the nations are to be discipled, as anticipated by the Abrahamic covenant (cf. Genesis 22:18).

This obviously entails that people within the nations are to be discipled, but it envisages more than this. Nations, as nations, will learn to conduct themselves in all their affairs (legal, political, economic, social, etc.) in obedience to the Lord.

John Owen got the hang of it:

The great promise of Christ is, that in these latter days of the world he will lay the nations in a subserviency to him, the kingdoms of the world shall become his; that is, act as kingdoms and governments no longer against him, but for him. (Owen, ‘Christ’s Kingdom and the Magistrate’s Power’, Works 8:390)

That is what is meant, properly speaking, by ‘A Christian Nation’.

That ain’t forgiveness - 6 March 2009

A while back, the Vatican revisited its previous verdict on John Lennon’s 1966 jibe that the Beatles were ‘more popular than Jesus’. The announcement was made back in November 2008 in the Vatican newspaper Osservatore Romano, which said:

The remark by John Lennon, which triggered deep indignation mainly in the United States, after many years sounds only like a ‘boast’ by a young working-class Englishman faced with unexpected success, after growing up in the legend of Elvis and rock and roll.

I’m not sure exactly what the Vatican says this is, but it certainly is not forgiveness. This is revising the original estimate of the bad-ness of Lennon’s words (which may or may not be the right thing to do): ‘We used to think it was wicked, but we’ve changed our minds – it wasn’t so bad after all.’

That ain’t forgiveness.

Forgivenesss leaves the verdict of ‘wicked’ on the deed itself intact. It doesn’t redefine the action as ‘non-sinful’, but instead announces that the offence has been covered over, and the verdict reversed, whilst simultaneously insisting that it was a sin, and it would still be a sin if you did it again.

Forgiveness (well, God’s forgiveness, anyway) isn’t a make-believe re-write of history, with all the nasty bits rubbed out. God lets history stand intact, full of the glaring horror of human wickedness, and at the same time declares, ‘I won’t count that against you. Or that. Or that. Or even that.’

Blessed are those whose lawless deeds are forgiven, and whose sins are covered; blessed is the man against whom the Lord will not count his sin. (Romans 4:7-8)