I know, you’ve heard this before; so I guess the proof will be in the pudding. I am going to take a sabbatical, not just from my blog, but from the computer in general. You don’t know how frustrating it is for me to have to do this, the blog is about the only place I have to vent my theological meanderings. For about a year and a half now (half of the time that I have been blogging) I have been struggling with tendonitis in both arms, and now, apparently, an incipient onset of carpal tunnel—both of which can be traced to all of the time that I have spent on the computer, blogging.

As far as remedies, I have tried to take it slower, and most recently purchased voice recognition software (which I am “typing” this post with). But it seems that my arm and wrist problems are so sensitive at the moment, that even if I simply click on the mouse a few times, or make a few keystrokes, it only exacerbates my problem. I think the only real remedy is total abstention from the computer—did I tell you that this really ticks me off, yet ;-) ? I suppose the only plus of this extended sabbatical will be that I can now catch up on some back reading. I am currently reading:

  • The Future of Evangelical Christianity by Donald Bloesch
  • The Harvest of Medieval Theology by Heiko Augustinus Oberman
  • And of course through the Bible a couple of times a year by God’s grace

The other really frustrating part of this is that I will no longer be able to interact with you sharp as iron brothers and sisters out there. I have been challenged and learned so much from you all (without naming any names); I will miss the fellowship! You all keep up the good work on your blogs, and I look forward to sometime down the road, after my arms have had real time to heal, to reconnect with you.

I’m going to turn on “moderation” for comments on my site. This way I don’t have to constantly check for spam.

In Christ crucified, your brother,

Bobby Grow

P.S. I will not turn on moderation until Sunday 5-11-08 @ 12 am (pst), in case anyone wants to leave any parting comments (sorry for the drama ;-) ).

I would consider myself an “Evangelical,” would you? This is a rather tough question to answer, I mean the term Evangelical is so amorphous that at points it seems to defy definition. I will try and parse out how I see myself as an evangelical later. But at the moment I thought I would provide a quote that describes a shade of evangelicalism labeled as “Radical Evangelicalism.” Maybe you fit this label, I can think of one guy who fits it quite well, from my perspective. Here is the description:

Since 1974, a group to the left of the “new” evangelicals has emerged. Richard Quebedeaux refers to them as “radical” evangelicals. They have been heavily influenced by the Catholic left (for example, the Berrigans), Jacques Ellul, and the nonviolent Anabaptist tradition as typified by John Howard Yoder. Coming out of the New Left of the 1960s, they see Christianity juxtaposed against culture. They go beyond the new evangelicals in their desire to reform society, insisting on the formation of alternative communities which will model the simple lifestyle, a sincere concern for the poor and oppressed, “first-priority commitment to one another as sisters and brothers in Christ, and a prophetic critique of the institutional church (conservative and liberal) and the capitalist system in general…. (David L. Smith, “A Handbook of Contemporary Theology,” 63)

Does this sound like you? Are you a radical evangelical? I don’t think I am, instead, if anything, I probably fit the label that Donald Bloesch has suggested as the “New Evangelical.” I will have to try and flesh this out later. Until then let me know if you think you fall within the tradition known as Evangelicalism. And if you do try and provide a description of what you think Evangelicalism is, and where you fall on its continuum (i.e. radical evangelical, new evangelical, etc.).

My friend Glen has been doing a series on Jesus in the Old Testament, not just Jesus, but the Trinity in the Old Testament. There’s no doubt that ontologically the God of the Old Testament is the same God we find in Jesus in the New Testament. But epistemologically I do not believe that Abraham or any of the patriarchs knew Yahweh in the same way that the Apostles knew him in Christ. I believe Abraham looked forward to the promised Messiah, the one who would fulfill the covenant found in Genesis 12. This brings us to the issue of this post, and that is to take a look at how Glen interprets John 8: 54-56. Let me cite this passage, and then I will quote Glen on this particular pericope.

Jesus answered, if I glorify myself, my glory is nothing; it is my father who glorifies me, of whom you say, he is our God; 55 and you have not come to know him, but I know him; and if I say that I do not know him, I will be a liar like you, but I do know him and keep his word. 56 Your father Abraham rejoiced to see my day, and he saw it and was glad.

Glen says:

Short answer to the Abraham question is - John 8:54-56. Abraham looked forward to seeing Christ’s day, saw it, and was glad. I think the Jews correctly understand Jesus’ claim to be that He actually met Abraham (you’re not yet 50… implication: you’d have to be 2000!). So according to Jesus, Abraham hoped to see Jesus and then did and was very happy about it. This is the thing Abraham did which Jesus wished these Jews would do (John 8:39). I don’t think that you can retrospectively award to Abraham a meeting with Jesus. If Jesus says they met then they met.

But Leon Morris has a different take on how we should understand the rabbis understanding on this particular passage relative to Abraham. Morris says:

We should think of yet another rabbinic interpretation, this time of Genesis 24: 1, where the new international version tells us that Abraham “was now old and well advanced in years.” More literally this last expression means “gone into the days,” and our translators have simply said this in the way English speakers would naturally express it. But it is possible to understand “gone into the days” in more ways than one, and the rabbis took it to mean that Abraham, being an inspired man, was able to go in thought through all the days up to the coming of the Messiah. Once again we may feel compelled to conclude that this is not exegesis. This is not what the passage means. The rabbinic interpretation tells us little about the meaning of Genesis, but much about the way the rabbis thought.

But it helps us to see the force of what Jesus was saying to the Jews. They had brought up Abraham. Very well, let us think about Abraham, Jesus is saying. From their understanding of a number of passages the Jews were ready to say that Abraham rejoiced. Jesus is saying that Abraham’s joy was real enough, and that it concerned the Messiah, as Jewish tradition held. The things that were taking place before his opponent’s very eyes were the things at which Abraham rejoiced. He looked for the coming of God’s Messiah and it was this that made him happy. But God’s Messiah was now before them; if they really accepted what Abraham was saying, they would rejoice with him at the presence of the Messiah. (Leon Morris, “Expository Reflections on the Gospel of John,” 342-43)

Morris clarifies what the rabbis would have been thinking relative to Abraham’s prophetic forethought; and that is, that he looked forward to the fulfillment that Jesus was for these rabbis, and the world. Leon goes on and clarifies further in regards to the rabbis response: *. . . you are not yet fifty years old, and have you seen Abraham?*. Morris argues that Jesus would have understood the rabbinic understanding to be the source of their confusion (the one I just quoted above); but that Jesus does not try to explain how this may have been, except to jump to the fact, quite abruptly, that he is the “I Am” of Exodus 3: 15.

I think it is reading too much into this passage to conclude what Glen has relative to Abraham actually seeing the Messiah in a pre-incarnate form. Clearly, the context of John is referring to the messianic hope that Abraham proleptically apprehended as *My day* finding its fulfillment in our context in John. It just doesn’t make sense, to me, to think that Jesus was referring to some past event in Abraham’s lifetime–given the rabbinic understanding, and the proleptic language we find Jesus using (i.e. my day) relative to Abraham’s rejoicing. [Let me clarify one thing, I do realize that we most likely have a christophony in Genesis 18, and that the angel of Yahweh is most likely the second person of the Trinity--but I do not think that contextually John 8 is referring to anything else but Abraham's hope and confidence that Yahweh would make his promise good--thus Abraham rejoiced at this prospect]

One more point of clarification, I do believe that the Old Testament is very Trinitarian in shape. And that we do not have a different God, ontologically, in the Old Testament from the New Testament. And I also do not think that we have a different mediator between God and man in the Old Testament from the New Testament. I just do not think in the economy of God’s unfolding salvation history, that the Old Testament patriarchs epistemologically understood Yahweh as Trinity–at least in the New Testament way. Are there moments, foreshadowings of Yahweh as triune? Certainly. But until Jesus comes [John 1:18] those old testament shadows are not clarified nor given substance until Deus incarnandus (God incarnate) shows up. There is more to say, but I must stop …

Jesus said to the religious leaders:

How can you believe, when you receive glory from one another and you do not seek the glory that is from the one and only God? –John 5: 44

It seems that there is a causal relationship between men pleasing and unbelief relative to believing in Jesus. In other words, if I am seeking to please men, seeking to win their adulation; then I leave no room for the glory of God. And if Jesus is the actualized personification of the glory of God, then I am destined and doomed to a life of unbelief relative to belief in the life of God.

Seeking the glory of God, as we see later in the Gospel of John, is death to self. Jesus, ironically, is put to death by the glory of men–the same glory that contributes to unbelief. So in the most profound of ways Jesus uses the unbelief of man, the glory that put him to death, as the occasion to magnify the glory of God–the life of God–as he reverses death and unbelief to life and belief (for all those who will by the Spirit).

In principle, Christians can function, via the old nature, like these religious leaders; we can seek the glory of man, thereby contributing to unbelief and “worldly” death in our own lives. The hope, is that we will recognize this predisposition in ourselves, and instead recognize that this unbelief–seeking the glory of man–is in fact what put Jesus to death; ironically unbeknownst to simple man, their/our unbelief has become the occasion for belief as Jesus reversed this trend in his life.

In contrast to the zealots hope and the Reconstructionists’ dominating kingdom themes, the kingdom of Christ and its power shaping force has been found somewhere else. Power and dominion for the kingdom of Christ is based upon koinonial servitude and humility; the kind known between the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit. In the beginning the apostles of Jesus didn’t get this either, they believed (Acts 1) that, post-resurrection, the kingdom was now going to be established—in line with the zealots hope (the overthrow of Rome). But they were growing in understanding, and they came to understand the kingdom in the terms that Jesus had trajected in his cross, grave, resurrection, and ascension. Alan Lewis makes this point most saliently:

. . . At the time, not even the closest of disciples could tolerate or understand the thought of such a denouement to the ministry of Jesus. But faith’s perceptiveness came finally to see that his suffering, cross, and tomb were Christ’s glory and triumph, the very source and form of his rule and judgment of the world. It was in servitude that his Majesty consisted, in humiliation that his glory was revealed. And thus was authority, divine and human, wholly reconceived. Humanity’s future and history’s end days would be determined not by state hegemony or military clout, but by the imperceptible power of self abandoned love. Notwithstanding the ascendancy of Caesar, tomorrow’s world lay with one of Caesar’s crushed and vanquished victims. (Alan E. Lewis, “Between Cross and Resurrection: A Theology of Holy Saturday,” 116)

The Church today would do well to remember the kind of kingdom Jesus has and will establish is in his blood. It is shaped by a theologia crucis (theology of the cross), and not by a theology of glory, that seeks a kingdom based upon a man conceived/constructed constitution shaped by self-love instead of God’s love. Sadly, in my estimation, the American evangelical church, in general, seeks a kingdom based upon the glory of man instead of the glory of the cross.

Trying to describe ‘The Church’ is an important task for the people of God to engage; and to help us do that I am enlisting Rex Koivisto, he says of the Church:

As we turn to the New Testament (the first place the term is used in its typical sense of Christians), we find several dimensions regarding the nature of the church. The earliest allusion to the use of the term is in fact connected to people: Jesus responds to Peter’s confession and says”you are Peter and on this rock [alluding to Peter] I will build my church [=community of people]” (Matt. 16:18). Jesus was establishing for Himself one great messianic community. The emphasis is primarily on Peter as a prototype of the personal confessor of faith in Jesus and His messianic claims. As such, the idea is that the church is primarily a people, not a structure or organization. (Rex Koivisto, “One Lord, One Faith,” 25)

In this account, the churches’ esse (”essence”) is constituted by the life of God in Christ and the Spirit, and all those, as Peter, who confess ‘faith in Jesus’. This implies that any attempt to describe the church as constituted by ‘this confession of faith’ and a particular episcopal expression, as the “particular expression” of the Church, is in error. The unifying ecclesial core is limited only to Peter’s confession, not to a subsequent episcopal organizational schema that reflects, only one among many, ecclesial expressions of the people of God throughout the various tongues, nations, and tribes of salvation history.

***For an excellent post on the ‘Free Church Tradition’ see an article by Halden***

Protestants, contra their Roman Catholic and Greek Orthodox counterparts, disassociate themselves, for the most part, from the concept of Apostolic Succession. This movement away from this concept was re-initiated most succinctly, and with shaping force, by the “Reformers.” Anglican, Paul Avis provides a good synopsis of how the Reformers distanced themselves from this defining ecclesial feature of Roman Catholics:

The concept of the Church which was fundamental to the thought of the Reformers (including of course the Anglicans)—namely, that only the gospel was of the esse—had profound implications for the doctrine of succession and with it the key concept of catholicity, one of the four creedal attributes of the church. Here a radical reinterpretation was effected. . . . By making the gospel alone the power at work in the Church through the Holy Spirit, the Reformers did away with the necessity of a doctrine of apostolic succession, replacing it with the notion of a succession of truth. Correspondingly, the gospel of truth was held to be sufficient to secure the catholicity of the Church. The Reformers believed with all of Christendom that the Church was one, holy, catholic and apostolic, but this was understood in a radically new sense in which the gospel itself became the decisive and dominant criterion. (Paul Avis, “The Church in the Theology of the Reformers,” 127-28 )

Of course the “Gospel of Truth” was assumed to be clearly comprehended by interacting with the “Apostolic Witness,” deposited for the Church, in the writings of the New Testament (and Old Testament). It was these writings that the Reformers believed “clearly” (the a priori commitment of the “Reformers” was in the Perspicuity of the Scriptures) bore witness to The Gospel, The Person, The Head of the Church—Jesus Christ.

How does this differ from the Roman conception of “Apostolic Succession?” It differs in the sense that it sees the Gospel, itself, better, “Himself,” as The esse, constitutively, of the concrete shaping of the Church. In other words, the very trinitarian life of God, as disclosed in the person of Jesus Christ becomes the cornerstone for “who” the Church “catholic” (universal) is. The “Church” is the Church by an immediate union with Christ, instantiated by the wooing work of the Holy Spirit, through the instrumentality of the Holy Scriptures, made known through the proclamation of the Church. So in this sense, the concrete shape of the Church is not isolated to an “office of succession,” intrinsically tied to the Roman expression of the Church; instead the concrete shape of the Church is essentially rooted within the person of Jesus Christ as “actualised” in the incarnation, and realized behind the Church who proclaims His life shaping message. In this accounting, then, the Church is not necessarily tied to a particular “church,” but the Church becomes the Church, apart from any “organizational structure,” through her reception of the Gospel, as determined by the purposes of God of God.

Often times, most times, America, and her origins, are claimed to be Christian . . . thus our self-proclaimed Christian Nation status. While it is true that our nation was originally to be a haven of refuge for “religious freedom,” and many of our founding Fathers were “Christians” (well some); it is not necessarily the case that the Christian ideals that were brought to the Americas were actually that Christian, conceptually. Scholars: Noll, Hatch, and Marsden certainly don’t think so; and they express their doubt very well in their book The Search for Christian America. Here is a summary of the first piece of their thesis in developing their argument:

1) We feel that a careful study of the facts of history shows that early America does not deserve to be considered uniquely, distinctly or even predominately Christian, if we mean by the word “Christian” a state of society reflecting the ideals presented in Scripture. There is no lost golden age to which American Christians may return. In addition, a careful study of history will also show that evangelicals themselves were often partly to blame for the spread of secularism in contemporary American life. . . . (Mark A. Noll, Nathan O. Hatch, George M. Marsden, “The Search For Christian America,” 17)

This is hard teaching, who can hear it? Does this bother you, these kinds of probing points? To clarify, these historians are not arguing that America does not have any “religious past,” note: . . . [I]n making our case, we do not want to contend that Christian values have been absent from American history. . . . Their presence, we agree, justifies a picture of the United States as a singularly religious country (p. 18). The key language, is “religious,” they will continue to argue that America does indeed have rich “Christian heritage;” but unfortunately what passed as uniquely Christian, was in fact, Christianity baptized in “Natural Theology,” and rationalist Enlightenment principles. Here is an example of what I am talking about, found in the Declaration of Independence:

. . . We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. . . . (full text here)

Notice the language of “self-evident,” this is Enlightenment Natural Theology, which starts with Nature/Creation as the methodological entry point for discussing spiritual things. In other words, and very simply, natural theology starts with man and works out/up from there. This is just one example of how our countries’ founding was not necessarily Christian. Here are some more penetrating questions offered by these historians, on what criteria should be used to determine if indeed America’s founding, heritage, and origin should be labeled Christian:

One set of questions has to do with how much Christian action is required to make a whole society Christian. Another way of stating the same issue is to pose it negatively—how much evil can a society display before we disqualify it as a Christian society? These kinds of questions are pertinent for all of early American history. When we look at the Puritans of the 1600s, do we emphasize only their sincere desire to establish Christian colonies, and their manifest desire to live by the rule of Scripture? Or do we focus rather on the stealing of Indian lands, and their habit of displacing and murdering these Indians wherever it was convenient? Roger Williams, one of the Puritans himself, asked these very questions and came to much the same conclusion as we have more than 300 years later. Again, do we place more emphasis on the Massachusetts Puritans’ desire to worship God freely in the new world or their persecution (and, in four cases, execution) of Quakers who also wished to be free to worship God in Massachusetts? (Mark A. Noll, Nathan O. Hatch, George M. Marsden, “The Search For Christian America,” 17)

Some tough, penetrating questions. How would you answer these? Are we a “Christian Nation?” And if you think so, or not, why?

Don’t get me wrong, I am thankful to be an American, and am thankful for the “freedoms” we have in this country; but I don’t think it does anyone any good, especially for “people of the Truth,” to pretend like we had a Christian nation in the past; and continue to have one today (although I think most would agree that we definitely don’t live in a Christian Nation today). This takes us full circle, then, what is a “Christian Nation,” to begin with?

Oh yeah, you all need to read this book at some point!

This in response to an article that presents us with only two alternatives relative to the extent of the atonement, either limited atonement or universalism (here). I think this offers a good middle way through these polar extremes, and holds both limited atonement and universalism in a healthy tension. Donald Bloesch says:

With Barth I hold that through the sacrifice of Christ on the cross and his glorious resurrection from the grave the human situation has been irrevocably altered. The powers of sin, death and hell have been decisively vanquished, though they continue to resist the advance of the kingdom of God through the power of the lie. All people, irrespective of their moral and spiritual state, are claimed for the kingdom, but only some respond in faith and obedience. Christ has reconciled and justified the whole human race but in principle (de jure), not in fact (de facto) except for those who believe. All are heirs to the kingdom, but not all become members of the church of Christ. The treasure in the field is there for all, but only those benefit who give up everything to attain it (Mt 13:44). The gates of prison in which we find ourselves are now open, but only those who rise up and walk through these gates to freedom are truly free.

I do not wish to deny the truth in predestination, a doctrine that is integral to the whole of Scripture. Yet predestination must be preached as good news if it is to serve the evangelistic mandate of the church. Predestination in its biblical context is a message of hope, for it simply means that before we respond in faith we are already claimed by God’s unconditional grace. Predestination is not something finalized in the past but something realized in the present and consummated in the future. We can resist and deny our predestination, but we cannot permanently thwart the stream of God’s irresistible grace. We will ultimately be brought into submission, though not necessarily into salvation. Yet predestination means life even though we may choose death. Predestination does not necessarily eventuate in fellowship with Christ, but it does mean that every person is brought into inescapable relatedness to Christ. Even though incorrigible sinners may find themselves in hell, outside the holy city, they are not outside the compass of God’s love and protection. The atonement of Christ is universal in its intention and outreach but conditional in the way its efficacy is realized in the lives of God’s people. God’s election and predestination are realized in a different way for those who spurn the offer of the gospel; yet we can still hope and pray even for these condemned mortals, since we know that they are in the hands of a God whose justice is evenhanded but whose mercy is boundless. I affirm no ultimate dualism (as in Augustinianism and Calvinism) but a duality within an ultimate unity, and this means that the pain of hell itself will be made to serve the glory of heaven. (Donald Bloesch, “Jesus Christ: Savior & Lord,” 169-70)

Classic Dispensationalism believes that there are two classes of people, relative to God’s Covenant. One group is God’s heavenly people (the Jews), for whom the New Covenant is constitutive; and the other group, God’s earthly people (the Church) for whom the Cross is constitutive. In other words, only the Jews are privy to the New Covenant, and at best the Church gets to experience the overflow of the New Covenant, but not in the direct way as National Israel.

I think this is at odds with the scriptural witness, and this is most exemplified by the Incarnation of Jesus (a la the Chalcedonian articulation). In other words, Jesus was particularized as a Jewish man from Nazareth, but this particularization was not limited to His Jewishness. His particularization, as foreshadowed in the protoevangelium (Gen. 3:15) and Abrahamic Covenant (Gen. 12:1-3ff) and realized in the New Covenant (Ez. 36:24ff; Jer. 31:31ff; II Cor. 3; Hebrews; etc.), encompasses all of humanity—in other words His particularity is the ingressive point through which ALL HUMANITY is brought into “Israel” (isn’t this what Rom. 9–11 is getting at). I think the incarnation presupposes the framework provided by Yahweh’s dealing with the “nation of Israel,” but that once the fullness of time comes the “nation” of Israel is superseded by the Person whom the nation mediated to the nations.

Contrarily, if we follow Classic Dispensationalism’s two peoples paradigm, we follow the Nestorian Heresy. We split Jesus into two people, one “divine” (i.e. God’s Heavenly people, the Jews), and one “earthly” (e.g. God’s earthly people, the Church). Furthermore, in this view, the incarnation does not allow for an accounting of how “all humanity” can be represented by Christ; since His Jewishness is limited to the Jewish nation, and not encompassing all humanity. This is contrary to the intentions of Gen. 3:15, the Abrahamic Covenant, the historic understanding of the church and its apostolic witness codified in particular creeds and councils.

My hope is that if there are any Classic Dispys reading here, that you come to terms with this apparent dilemma, relative to the incarnation, that all Christians hold so dearly. Either the incarnation encompasses all of humanity, or it doesn’t? And if it doesn’t, then I’m afraid “of all men we are to be pitied.”

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