Your cart is currently empty!
Tag: Christ
-
Atonement Thoughts
How did Christ atone for His People?Protestant Theologians debate whether it was in an Equivalent or Exact Sense:Equivalent:“Not indefinite as to the duration, still…equivalent as to the value on account of the Person suffering.” -TurretinExact:“Christ “made satisfaction by undergoing the same punishment…they themselves were bound to undergo…essentially the same in weight and pressure, though not in all accident of duration and the like.” -Owen, quoted in “He Died for Me” p. 114.Unsure:“He was to suffer what we were to suffer, if not the exact, every way the same, yet the equivalent, that which was sufficient to Christ’s ends” -Thomas Manton, quoted in “He Died for Me” p. 118. -
Book Review: Compel Them to Come In
Compel Them to Come in: Calvinism and the Free Offer of the Gospel by Donald MacLeod
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
MacLeod’s new work echoes much of what is said in Murray’s much-shorter work, albeit in a more readable format. It has an interesting structure, addressing divine sincerity in the middle of the book rather than at the beginning. This was an odd choice, but it is my only criticism. Positively, there are numerous insights woven throughout the book that make this a go-to for preachers, evangelists, and lay evangelists. It certainly has me redoing/updating my evangelism training class!
View all my reviews -
Certainty and Doubt
Christians have looked warily at postmodernism for some time now. Its amorphous nature has never been appealing, and its candy-shop variety of metaphysical conclusions has been hard to accept. Sure, one can enjoy certain aspects of so-and-so’s post-structuralism, or rejoice in what’s-his-face’s view of textual analysis, or delight in another fellow’s critique of modernism’s epistemological arrogance, but Christians have long had issue with accepting “postmodernism” as an overarching system of thought.
It is now vogue to challenge the “modernist” view of the mind, knowledge, and certainty. I totally agree with this program, because most “modernist” epistemologies are, indeed, arrogant, and fundamentally flawed. But, unfortunately it’s also vogue to categorize historic, Christian views of knowledge as “modern”, suggesting that it is arrogant, blind, or even sinful to be “certain”. I’d like to suggest, at the least, that God calls Christians to arrive at certainty through the Scriptures. It is not modernism that gives Christians the belief that they can achieve epistemological certainty, but Scripture.
The Content of Our Certainty
That said, this article is not going to focus on overarching epistemological certainty. Rather, this will focus on how a person can become certain that Jesus is who He says He is. I’m distinguishing these primarily because, while entirely reasonable, a Christian’s view of Jesus is based in faith. This faith is a supernatural gift from the Holy Spirit, and exceeds rationality. Faith isn’t given to someone out-of-context. As Paul puts it, “faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ” (Rm. 10:17). God’s typical pattern is to endow the gift of faith to someone when they read or hear the Bible being read or preached. While reason can lead us to conclude that so-and-so book is well written or logical, only the Spirit of God can lead one to conclude that the Bible is God’s Word. He “testifies” to one’s mind that the Biblical author’s testimony is true, and these two witnesses (author and Spirit) enable one to render the verdict that Scripture is God’s Word (Jn. 3:32, 5:32, 8:18; Rm. 8:16; Hb. 10:15). This article addresses the next step: Now that a person believes in Christ, how certain can they be about who He is?
We’ll look at a number of passages that explain the nature of certainty, but I just want to point out that a Christian seeks to be certain of specific things. He wants to be certain of “the things [he] has been taught,” (Lk. 1:4), of, “God’s mystery, which is Christ,” (Col. 2:2), of, “the gospel,” (1 Th. 1:5), of, “hope” (Hb. 6:11), and of, “faith” (Hb. 10:22). These are all roughly synonymous to mean that the Christian seeks to be certain of what the Scriptures say about Jesus. While Jesus is, indeed, a mystery (Col. 2:2), He is a mystery we can know intimately, and with certainty.
The Basis of Our Certainty
In Luke 1:1-4, Luke explains his purpose for composing yet another gospel narrative,
1 Inasmuch as many have undertaken to compile a narrative of the things that have been accomplished among us, 2 just as those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word have delivered them to us, 3 it seemed good to me also, having followed all things closely for some time past, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, 4 that you may have certainty concerning the things you have been taught.
Luke’s basic reason for writing another gospel is so that “Theophilus”, likely a patron of this expensive scholarship, may be certain about what he has been taught (v. 4). The fourth verse is ἵνα ἐπιγνῷς περὶ ὧν κατηχήθης λόγων τὴν ἀσφάλειαν. Those two bolded words are important, and roughly translated they mean, “in order that you may know with certainty about the things you have been taught.” So, according to Luke, certainty is a type or quality of knowledge. The word that Luke uses for certainty is ἀσφάλεια (asphaleia), which ranges in meaning from “stability of a circumstance” to, “stability of an idea” to, “restriction of movement such that there is security.” So, for example, Luke uses this word again in part two of his account, the Acts of Christ through the Spirit, in Acts 5:23, “We found the prison doors securely locked…”. A basic analogy to certainty is then that of the door to a home (as opposed to a “foundation”, so commonly employed in today’s epistemology arguments). If your home is built on a solid foundation, then you are protected from having storms wash away your belongings, but if any robber can come and kick down your door then your possession are still insecure.
What This Means:
1. Certainty isn’t Arrogant
If Theophilus had sinfully or arrogantly pursued “certainty” about his belief in Jesus, I think Luke would have had quite a different introduction. What purpose would an additional narrative serve? “While, dear Theophilus, you pursue certainty of these things about Jesus, I can only provide you a competing narrative that you must accept in opposition to those other stories.” As it is, though, Luke’s introduction reveals his attitude towards certainty. Certainty isn’t arrogant or presumptuous, but a godly attitude and mindset.
2. Certainty Ought to be Pursued
A Christian doesn’t necessarily begin with complete certainty. Yes, initially a Christian will have certainty in general, like a single lock upon a door, but as they grow they will learn how to better barricade that door. Luke suggests that after having built a home upon the foundation that Christ tells us to build upon (Lk. 6:47-49), we are to strengthen the stability of the door so that we might be secure against thieves and robbers. The problem is that thieves and robbers come and attempt to break down the door. Perhaps the lock has been loosened, and now you’re not sure what to do. You’ve become uncertain about what you’ve been taught. Now you must go through a process to arrive at certainty again. This means that doubt, much beloved by postmoderns, will likely be included in the journey to certainty. But doubt itself is not the goal, nor is doubt even desirable. This is intimately related with the doctrine of assurance of salvation. The Scriptures are clear: a person may lose their assurance or grow weaker in their assurance for a number of reasons. While this is the case, the authors of Scripture repeatedly encourage their congregations to pursue assurance (Hb. 10:22). Similarly, when we are challenged, we ought to pursue certainty about the things we’ve been taught about Jesus.
3. Certainty Can be Attained
I hope it’s apparent that if certainty couldn’t be attained, Luke would have no reason to state that this is his chief goal in his work. The fact is that while certainty can be attained, the Scriptures speak of various levels of certainty for the Christian. The Christian who has lost his certainty may regain it, and grow in it. For an example, let’s look at the verse I just mentioned in passing: Hebrews 10:22,
Let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water.
The author of Hebrews uses one vital word: πληροφορία (plerophoria). It generally means, “A state of complete certainty.” This certainty isn’t presumption, and it isn’t arrogance, but it is the conclusion of filling up something. Just like a cup can be filled to the brim, so too our certainty can be fully filled. The author of Hebrews argues that this is the ideal situation: he wants his readers to have this complete certainty. Though the moon may not be full, it can become full, and this is something we ought to expect. This is the standard and goal that the authors of Scripture maintain we can indeed attain (Col. 2:2; 1 Th. 1:5; Hb. 6:11).
-
Why I am One of Those Fundamentalist, Sola-Scriptura People
I am a conservative Protestant, but I follow a good number of blogs by Roman Catholics, liberal Protestants, and a number of other people as well. Recently, though, I’ve noticed two major ideas that have been the subject of repeated and sustained attack. From the Roman Catholic blogs, I’ve seen a continued critique of the idea of Sola-Scriptura, or “Scripture alone”, which I will explain later. From the so-called, ‘progressive Christian’ blogs I’ve seen the idea of “fundamentalism” constantly derided and decried as basically the worst thing about contemporary Christianity, and potentially its own harbinger. It is in the light of these two ideas that I’d like to explain why I, myself, remain one of those fuddy-duddy fundamentalists, and why I enjoy and remain an advocate of the reformation teaching on Sola-Scriptura.
First, it’s really important to define your terms. That said, Sola-Scriptura seems to be the subject of either much debate, or simply much confusion. In particular I’m thinking of Edward Feser’s recent posts (here, here, and here) on the epistemological fallaciousness of Sola-Scriptura. In a quick summary, Feser, citing Feyeraband, who is citing early Jesuits, basically argues,
a) Scripture alone can never tell you what counts as Scripture, b) Scripture alone can never tell you how to interpret Scripture, and c) Scripture alone cannot give us a procedure for deriving consequences from Scripture, applying it to new circumstances.
While this is a fascinating argument, I’ve always understood Sola-Scriptura to be rather more limited in its claim than the claims that this argument attempts to refute. My understanding of Sola-Scriptura is that this means, “Scripture alone is the rule of faith and life.” Now, note that I am citing the Westminster Confession of Faith, and I’m doing so without a tinge of worry that I’m somehow violating the principle of Sola-Scriptura. This is because the idea that the Bible alone is “the rule of faith and life”, means essentially that it is the standard, the measure, the ordering principle, and the guiding authority of all things having to do with my salvation. But, does this concept deny the idea that there are subordinate authorities that help inform “what counts as Scripture”, “how to interpret Scripture”, or “give us a procedure for deriving consequences”? No. It doesn’t. You may ask, “Why not?”
My answer is this: because the picture that is being painted by Sola-Scriptura is that there is an objective truth that is from God Himself, which comes to us so real, so true, and so pure that it, and only it, is the light upon our dark road. Subordinate authorities help us understand the light. They can draw up equations to explain its properties, and then use this
knowledge of properties to invent devices to control the light. They make filters to diffuse it. They make solar panels to harness it. They make lenses to sharpen it, and turn it to fire. But the subordinate authorities are not the light. This is why we consider them subordinate authorities. They do not stand for us as the light itself, or as perfect interpreters of the light, or as perfect employers of the light, but they do stand for us as useful authorities on the matter. This, then, is why I can cite Westminster without fear of treading down the beloved Sola-Scriptura. Westminster is, indeed, an authority, but it is an authority that is expressly subordinate to that of Scripture. The Westminster Divines (yes, that’s what we call them because we honor them!) saw the light of God’s truth, recognized it as truth, and explained it as such.I suppose, in conclusion, you might ask me, “To what extent is Scripture then alone or the authority on faith and life? If there are a million subordinate and derivative authorities of Scripture, all with their own standards for determining what makes something Scripture, how to interpret it, and how to use it today, then how is Scripture really alone in regards to our faith and life?” I understand Feser’s critique, when it comes down to this point. But Feser’s solution is just as problematic as that of Sola Scriptura. While Scripture itself stands as the only pure and perfect teacher for our salvation, it is inevitable that we must deal with interpretations of Scripture. Which interpretation is accurate? How do we decide if so-and-so’s view is right, or why not that other guy’s view? Feser’s solution is that the Church has the same level of authority as Scripture, and is thus able to discern the appropriate view from a Father or counsel or Papal bull. But this isn’t a solution. Counsels contradict one another. The Fathers disagreed, argued, and also contradicted each other. Many pope’s issued inaccurate, inappropriate, and totally wild statements based out of flawed exegesis. So which one does the Church trust? Father A or Father B? Counsel 1 or 2? This pope or that pope?
The “problem” that exists for Sola Scriptura (the need to trust some other authority) isn’t solved by the Roman Catholic view of twin authorities (Scripture and Church), but is only watered-down. The solution is to properly understand the doctrine of Sola-Scriptura: Scripture is from the mouth of God through the writings of men under the influence of the Spirit. If we have trouble understanding what it means, it nonetheless remains God’s Word and the only authority that in itself fully can tell us how to be saved. Meanwhile, all other “authorities” that exist concerning salvation are only derived from Scripture itself. The individual exegete that is good at exegesis is good because he has sat underneath this Word, and sought to understand the author’s intent. When he expresses to a friend, “You may be saved by believing in Jesus Christ,” he has not learned this from observing nature or the wisdom of the world, but from God’s Word alone. The counsels that provide good counsel have sat beneath the influence of the Word. The popes that have spoken accurately (and yes, my Protestant friends, there have been some good statements from some popes) have only done so insofar as they have studied the Scriptures. While we are clearly always influenced by people as well as Scripture, it is the people who have studied the Scriptures who prove to be the most influential upon us, because they carry in themselves the knowledge of the Word of the living God.
So far I’ve shown why I believe in Sola-Scriptura, but I haven’t addressed the idea of “fundamentalism”. What do I mean by this word, and what do “progressive” Christians mean by it? I first heard this term when I was in college, studying visual art. It was always used in reference to Christians who hold a rather (in my opinion) odd view about the last-days. Typically, these men and women believe that Christ will return, rule the world for a thousand years from his throne in Jerusalem, while the Church–being raptured–will dwell in heaven. But, when I first stumbled across a blog by a “progressive” Christian, and commented on it, arguing that atonement is real, they spoke of me pejoratively as being a “fundamentalist”. What did they mean? I wasn’t discussing the last-days in any sense. Now, from my seminary studies, I’ve come to realize that fundamentalism, broadly understood, refers to a type of doctrine of Scripture. According to this teaching, Scripture in its original autographs (documents) is inspired by God, without error, without fault, and is still useful today for “teaching, reproof, correction, and training in righteousness” (2 Tim. 3:16). Most people understand the Chicago Statement on Biblical Inerrancy to be a good summary of this sort of fundamentalism.
You might be saying, “So, what’s wrong with that view?” Or, you could be saying, “What kind of nincompoop believes that God could or would speak to humanity in such a way?” Or maybe you’re somewhere in between those two questions. Simply put, “progressive” Christians lie somewhere closer to the latter questioners than the former, and so I’ve certainly received a bit of flack from them for arguing from Scripture for my positions regarding atonement, doctrine of God, and ethics. But after all the disputes, why am I still a fundamentalist? Is it simply, as one lovely critic said to me, because I grew up in a Christian household, and am lazily resting in the beliefs of my parents? Goodness, no. This is the exact thing that I sought, in college, to overcome. I didn’t spent the years reading the writings of Islam, Judaism, Bahai, Hinduism, Buddhism, Confucianism, Mormonism, existentialism, atheism, materialism, nihilism, New Age, and all sorts of blends of these in order to lazily rest in my parent’s beliefs. I sought and pursued the truth (and am still doing such) for myself, and have become a fundamentalist.
First, let’s look at what doesn’t convince me. As I have discussed the “progressive” Christian’s views on Scripture, I’ve learned that most of them still believe that God somehow interacts specially with Scripture to bring truth to us. While they don’t believe it is by directly inspiring and perfectly composing writings for all humanity through humanity, they do believe that He uses the text to explain Himself to us. Most of them are very much Barthian, or neo-Orthodox. In short, they believe that these were ancient texts, very much outdated and without application, in themselves, to God’s people today. But, they are the place that God speaks to us. So, when we pull out the rag-tag pages of these ancient men and women, and preach from them, God uses this preaching to illumine the minds and hearts of His people. Can you see the inevitable problem(s) with this doctrine of Scripture? It’s sort of like this: you stumble across an old farming implement, and you wonder, “Hm. How was this thing used? Can I use it today?” So you read books about the implement. You talk to scholars about it, and speculate about it. You figure out that it is an old type of plow, pulled by an ox. You determine–for some unknown reason–that this plow is the thing that must be used today for proper farming, but the old ways of farming with the implement were wrong. But the problem with this conclusion is two-fold. How have you determined that the implement is what is most effectively used for farming? Secondly, how will you then employ the implement for farming? If you say, “Well, I’m just not going to worry about how to employ the implement because an ancient spirit will steer my hand in the right direction,” that’s simply a cop-out. You will inevitably make up your own way of using this tool, and who is to say the proper method for using it today? These are huge problems with a neo-Orthodox, “progressive” Christian, doctrine of Scripture.
So, why am I a convinced “fundamentalist”? Well, not only do I find the alternatives logically problematic, I find the fundamentalist doctrine of Scripture overwhelmingly true. By overwhelmingly true I mean that this doctrine as truth resonates in my whole being. First, my mind is convinced by it as I see its logical proofs: God spoke by men, because He spoke to men. He moved them to write perfectly, and guided them in their process of writing, yet they also wrote of their own free will what they wanted to write. This is similar to the doctrine of concurrence. Of course, God employed the literary conventions of these writers, and spoke within their context, because He didn’t ‘force the hand’ of each author. But this fact doesn’t lead us to become mere nominalists, believing that the ancient’s had no “true” grasp of God. But the better we understand the conventions of their culture, the better we will understand how the Scriptures explain God, really and truly. For example, while the authors employ anthropomorphisms to describe God (and we know–God has no body but in Christ), there is a corresponding reality to the idea that God is “grieved”. God used these authors because He desired to get this point across. He didn’t arbitrarily choose desert-dwellers to speak about Himself, but He chose them purposefully. Or, for another example, the authors speak about God as if He related to humans in covenants. The covenant was an ancient Near Eastern practice that is approximate to legal contracts today. While, today, if you fail to keep your word in a legal contract, you will probably be sued, back then the price of covenant-breaking was death. Now, “progressive” Christians will write-off the idea of the covenant as having nothing to do with God himself, and the ideas of death for covenant-breaking as totally ungodly–but God employed these social circumstances to speak the truth about Himself, and about His relation to His people. He really does make promises to us, and we make promises to Him. Our violation of these promises really does merit death. Perhaps a “progressive” Christian will call this doctrine of Scripture illogical, but honestly it isn’t illogical. It seems more likely to me that we moderns/post-moderns are simply uncomfortable with the idea that God can be anything like the descriptions of the ancient Israelites, and for that reason are quick to write-off a doctrine of Scripture that gives credence to their understanding of God.
I’m not just convinced by logic, though. My heart is convinced by this doctrine of Scripture as I hear the Scriptures read, “Did not our hearts burn within us while He talked to us on the road, while He opened to us the Scriptures?” (Lk. 24:32). My understanding of the doctrine of Scripture is very similar to that of the existence of God, and the reality of Jesus’ incarnation, death, and resurrection. Though all of these things are miraculous, the idea is perfectly logical, and further, it confirms every longing of my soul. In fact, I’ve found the alternative options to be, inevitably, both illogical (at some point) and unsatisfying to my own longings. The Scriptures, though certainly going through various processes of redaction, corruption, correction, and so on, are inerrant in their original compositions. Insofar as we discern these originals, explain these originals, and preach these originals–this is God’s infallible word. While we may err in discerning it, or may err in interpreting, or may err in preserving it, I am pressed by the conviction that God, by the Spirit, uses the bits of truth that we have pulled out from the originals to convince us. Thankfully, as well-reputed scholars like Aland and Metzger have pointed out, we are blessed today with the ability to more closely discern the originals than many of our preceding generations (due to the prolific amount of texts we now possess). This means that the concern of any decent biblical scholar, textual critic, pastor, preacher, and even lay-person, is simply to find out what the original text says, what it meant for the people in its day, and what that means for us today. As these things are read and taught, “opened” to us, our hearts will burn within us as our longings are shown to be real, and our hopes to be fueled by the truth of God. So, I’m still one of those fuddy-duddy fundamentalists, and Sola-Scriptura sillies.
-
The Historical Jesus Goes To University
The Historical Jesus Goes To University
Though I agree with J. Gresham Machen that McGrath’s form of liberal/progressive Christianity is “another religion”, I still applaud McGrath’s recent post for showing that scholars across the board recognize Jesus as an historical person.
-
Was Jesus Married with Children? Here We Go Again
Was Jesus Married with Children? Here We Go Again
By now, most have probably heard the news splash about the forthcoming book by Simcha Jacobovici and Barrie Wilson, The Lost Gospel: Decoding the Sacred Text that Reveals Jesus’ Marriage to Mary Ma… -
The Van Gogh That Breaks My Heart
The Van Gogh That Breaks My Heart
Vincent van Gogh aspired to become a Calvinist pastor, like his dad. He pursued ministry in the Dutch Reformed Church until he hit a roadblock by failing his academic training, and then experienced what personal failure often breeds: disillusionment. He became disenchanted with pastoral ministry… -
The Cosmic Navel, The Silver Cord: The Body of Christ
I am reading an article concerning Jewish (rabbinic) thought on the possibility of incarnation. The author suggests that a rabbinic form of prayer, kawwanah, implies that if God is capable of being ‘imaged’ in prayer in His shekhinah glory, then He is capable of incarnation. But in the midst of all of this he spends a good bit of time discussing the direction of prayer, and how the Holy of Holies is to be prayed towards because it houses the glory-cloud of God, enthroned between the cherubim. He says,
Prayers are to be directed to…the cosmic navel, the Holy of Holies in the Temple of Jerusalem.
But when you consider what Christ tells us about prayer it blows all of this rabbinic nuancing out of the water. The true believers will worship the Father in Spirit and truth–not towards Jerusalem, not towards Samaria–but in Spirit. Similarly, we are taught that the Church in Christ is the ‘naos’–the inner-chamber of the temple–to the Holy Spirit. We do not pray to a location because we are the location of God’s glorious presence through the Spirit (1 Cor. 3:16-17; 6:19; 2 Cor. 6:16; Eph. 2:21). In this sense, those joined to Jesus by faith are the ‘cosmic navel’, the belly-button of the universe. Since Jesus has sent us the Spirit, and intercedes with the Father in the heavenly ‘temple’, we have access to God that those outside of Christ cannot begin to fathom.
-
Two Reasons I am a Calvinist (from the book of Acts)
Two reasons I am a Calvinist:
“When the Gentiles heard this, they began rejoicing and glorifying the word of the Lord; and as many as had been appointed to eternal life believed.” (Acts 13:48)
“A woman named Lydia, from the city of Thyatira, a seller of purple fabrics, a worshiper of God, was listening: and the Lord opened her heart to respond to the things spoken by Paul.” (Acts 16:14)