Wednesdays Were Pretty Normal: A Boy, Cancer, and God by Michael Kelley was one of the best books I read last year. It would have made my annual Top Ten list, but it hadn’t been released yet. On March 1, the book launches, and I hope it finds a wide audience.

Michael’s book chronicles his son Josh’s battle with cancer. The book weaves together stories and theological reflection, and the result is a raw, honest look at faith in the middle of trying circumstances. The big questions about human sickness, God’s sovereignty, the supremacy of Christ, and the need for faith – all of these are displayed against the backdrop of the family’s journey through a time of intense suffering.

When you come across books about children and cancer, you may think that the target audience is predominantly female and that the tone of the book will be sentimental in nature. Not so with Wednesdays Were Pretty Normal. This is not a sappy book, and though it ends happily, one senses the weight of the experience and the change it brought about in the lives of Michael and his wife.

After reading an early manuscript, I sent in an endorsement:

“This is not a sentimental memoir or another theoretical look at suffering. Instead, Michael leads us to the intersection of faith and life, of God’s love and our pain, of God’s plan and our questions.”

Take a look at the trailer for the book, and then do yourself a favor and pre-order it now.

Books on writing bore me. Either they focus too much on grammatical do’s and don’ts or they exalt the intangible features of good writing that are caught, not taught. That’s why most writing books leave me with a passionate desire to write more – not because they’ve inspired me but because I’d much rather go ahead and write than read another boring book about writing.

Doug Wilson’s brief book Wordsmithy: Hot Tips for the Writing Life is a delightful exception. Wilson only has seven exhortations for us writer-wanna-be’s, and he delivers them in two pages. That’s right. In two pages, you get the gist of the book, but those two pages will whet your appetite for what the rest of the book delivers.

Reading Wordsmithy is a lot like savoring a meal at the same time you are learning to cook. As you learn how to mix up the ingredients that make for good writing, Wilson dons his chef’s hat in order to properly demonstrate all that he is exhorting you to. In other words, you won’t leave the table hungry.

After reading Wordsmithy, I sent Doug a few questions about writing. Here are his answers:

Trevin Wax: When did you first begin to write?

Doug Wilson: I remember wanting to “make books” around the sixth grade. And I think I wrote my first poem around the same time (it was about a sea anemone). But I did not seriously begin to write until after my stint in the Navy, when I was around 22.

Trevin Wax: Have you always found joy in the writing process? Or is joy something that has developed over time?

Doug Wilson: When I began to set myself to writing, my initial efforts were pretty stiff and cardboardy. But I wanted to do it and wanted to learn how to do it.

I think that I knew from the beginning that joy was the point. My wife already had her degree in English Lit, and I was a philosophy major. She knew how to type, and at the time I didn’t, so she would type out my papers for me. I must have set myself to making it interesting early on because I remember her telling me that I couldn’t put things “like that” in an academic paper. I had enjoyed reading lively writing from the time I was in high school (C.S. Lewis, William F. Buckley, et al.), and I knew I wanted to move in that direction if I could figure out how. Other models came later – e.g. Wodehouse, Mencken.

Trevin Wax: One of the takeaways from your book is that writers should know the rules of grammar but also be willing to bend them. Are you a word fusser or a word libertine?

Doug Wilson: I would say I am a fusser on the basics and a libertine around the edges. To illustrate, I think table manners are essential to civilized life, but if the court of Louis XIV demands 22 salad forks, my sympathies move to the antinomians.

Clear thinking and clear writing go together, and the rules of grammar are (for the most part) dedicated to keeping things clear. When they begin to obscure that clarity and become counterproductive, then it is time to remember that man was not made for the Sabbath.

Trevin Wax: What’s the correlation between good reading and good writing?

Doug Wilson: Good reading is foundational. Constant exposure to that which is undeniably good helps train your ear. It helps train you to throw out things that are guilty of no writing “sin” but that are equally free of any virtue. A melody can be dull without breaking any musical laws, and writing can come off like it was written by a committee without parts or passions. Reading good stuff educates a future writer in the intangibles.

Trevin Wax: What’s your take on the current state of the “blogosphere”? Do blogs help us write better?

Doug Wilson: Some blogs are great, of course, but most of that world is just noise. And most of the really good stuff is going to find its way into print. Blogs are a way for a prospective writer to make it in the minors.

The best thing about blogs is that they provide a dedicated writer with an occasion to crank it out in a disciplined fashion. If he gets good, his blog will get noticed, or his writing talents will be. But this only works because this part of our world is like the rest of the world. Cream rises, which only works if it is not all cream.

One of the more helpful theological books I read this year is J. Todd Billings’ Union with Christ: Reframing Theology and Ministry for the Church (Baker Academic, 2011). After reading through it, I was happy to offer this word of recommendation:

In Union with Christ, Todd Billings expounds upon an important New Testament doctrine by exploring its contemporary ramifications in light of careful historical and exegetical reflection. This is a thought-provoking book that will ignite fresh conversations about the nature of our participation in Christ.”

Today, I’m honored to have Todd join us here at Kingdom People to talk about the importance of the doctrine and the reality of “union with Christ” and what it means for our salvation.

Trevin Wax: Todd, you say something bold at the beginning of your book – that the doctrine of “union with Christ” is theological shorthand for the gospel itself. Explain what you mean by this statement and why we need to see the importance of union with Christ in how we conceive of the gospel.

Todd Billings: Good question. Well, my bold statement comes from John Calvin, who claims that the “sum of the gospel” is the double grace of justification and sanctification, gifts which are inseparable yet distinct, received through the Spirit in union with Christ (Institutes 3:3:1). I think that Calvin brings us a profound insight here.

Union with Christ encompasses many, many different ways that the New Testament talks about Christian identity:

• being “in Christ,”
• abiding in Christ the Vine,
• walking by the Spirit,
• the forgiveness of sins in justification,
• the gift of new life by the Spirit who works in and through believers in sanctification.

It’s a corporate image because the Spirit unites us not only to Christ but to Christ’s body, the church.

It’s also a covenantal image that brings together the Old Testament and the New, for to be in Christ is to be in God’s covenant of grace. We not only believe that Jesus Christ, in His life, death, and resurrection, is the culmination of God’s purposes in creation and covenant, we are united to Jesus Christ by the Spirit and thus participate in the One who is the true Prophet, Priest, and King.

It’s also eschatological as well as ethical, for we have already “died” to sin, yet we are called to “put to death” the old self (Rom. 6:6; 8:13). All of this happens through the Spirit (Rom. 8:9). I could say more, but even this short description indicates how this “sum” of the gospel is not a reduction of it — it’s an expansive vision of it compared with the many ways that Christians tend to domesticate the gospel today.

Trevin Wax: What are some of the ways we tend to reduce the gospel today?

Todd Billings: There are several common ways. On the one hand, sometimes we as Christians reduce the gospel to a conversion experience, or to “justification alone” — such that the entirety of the gospel comes to be about the forgiveness of sins. Sanctification becomes “our own work,” an optional extra for super-Christians.

On the other hand, sometimes we downplay or ignore the forensic imagery of justification, and we think that the gospel is just about our own transformation. On that side of the equation, the gospel can become reduced to our own lives, our own efforts to do good. It is no longer good news about God’s grace revealed to us in Christ.

But the gospel is more than either of those reductionistic options. The good news is nothing less than Jesus Christ, as the culmination of God’s purposes in creation and covenant, and our union with this same Christ by the Spirit. This means that we must say “both/and” to forensic (legal) and transformational images of salvation — because, in the words of Calvin, “free remission of sins cannot be separated from the Spirit of regeneration. This would be, as it were, to rend Christ asunder” (Institutes 3:16:1). The two gifts of the double-grace are distinct yet inseparable.

In the book, I explore many specific ways that this plays out, and I draw upon sociological work to illustrate exactly how some of these “reductions” of the gospel have taken place. Then I explore the quite remarkable way in which a theology of union with Christ addresses these reductions of the gospel. For example, in the first chapter I draw on the sociological work of Christian Smith to show how God is seen as conveniently distant by many Christians today. And in response I describe a biblical and Reformational theology of salvation as adoption by the Triune God in Christ as an antidote to that problematic view of the gospel.

Trevin Wax: How does a proper understanding of “union with Christ” aid us in sanctification? Or better put, how does the reality of union with Christ help us become more like Him?

Todd Billings: Our temptation is to think that we should imitate Christ from a distance, or ask, “What would Jesus do?” This can often lead to a practice of sanctification that is focused upon ourselves and our own efforts rather than upon loving God and neighbor and growing in conformity to Christ.

There are several dimensions of good news relating to union with Christ here. First, we are not just given a ticket to heaven and then told to try really hard to act like Christ. By the Spirit’s power, we are given justification and sanctification as gifts. Thus, even our new life in Christ is a gift, not an achievement.

Second, we don’t follow Christ at a distance, but by the Spirit’s power we are united to Christ in His death and resurrection – Christ isn’t just a distant model from history, Christ lives in us by the Spirit. At the same time, this union remains a differentiated one so that we don’t confuse the work of Christians with the work of Christ.

Third, in light of union with Christ, we can go beyond the sermon punchline of “try harder to do good,” the moralistic preaching that is so common today. Instead, in gospel proclamation our true identity is held before us – that we are adopted children of the Triune God, whose true identity is in Christ by the Spirit. The exhortation becomes: live into this new identity, which is your true identity. Put on the Lord Jesus Christ because you have been united to Him in His death and resurrection.

Finally, undergirding all of this, it’s important to recognize that affirming the effectual work of the Spirit in sanctification is not to say that we can be lazy in sanctification or that our identity is annihilated in sanctification. Rather, it is to affirm that the Spirit is the One who brings life to those who are dead in sin, thus activating believers to love God and to service in the world. When the Spirit effectually acts in sanctification, we (in our created goodness) are being restored, not annihilated. This short video about the book explores a bit more how union with Christ illuminates misunderstandings about “total depravity.”

Trevin Wax: How does “union with Christ” challenge the prevailing ways we go about doing theology and ministry?

Todd Billings: My book is full of surprises for many people. It explores the surprising, astonishing ways in which a theology of union with Christ can illuminate our understanding of the gospel, correct misunderstandings, and change the conversation about many areas of theology and ministry. It does this through showing how a biblical theology of union with Christ, together with insights retrieved from the Reformation, can open up new avenues, new ways of approaching biblical and theological issues that shake up our contemporary categories.

For example, as this short video about the book explores, union with Christ can move us beyond an “either/or” that polarizes divine transcendence and mystery from the Christian’s union and communion with God.

The book also explores the insights provided by a theology of union with Christ as a way to move beyond shortcomings in our contemporary talk about ministry, as this short video about the book’s critique of “incarnational ministry” shows.

Trevin Wax: Thanks for writing such a helpful book, Todd. And thanks for stopping by to talk about it here!

Every December, I select the ten books that I most enjoyed reading during the year. Please note that I am not giving a blanket endorsement to everything in these books (after all, some of them contradict each other at points). I choose ten books a year based primarily on how much I enjoyed reading them.

Here are my top ten picks for 2011.

#1. GOD’S GLORY IN SALVATION THROUGH JUDGMENT:
A BIBLICAL THEOLOGY
- James Hamilton

Hamilton puts the Bible together in a way that leads the reader to marvel – not at his own theological acumen, but at the majestic and loving God whose saving actions are at the heart of the Bible’s grand narrative.
See an excerpt here.

#2. UNBROKEN:
A WORLD WAR II STORY OF SURVIVAL, RESILIENCE, AND REDEMPTION
- Laura Hillenbrand

… the riveting life story of Olympic runner Louis Zamperini, is easily one of the best books I’ve read… I was moved to tears by the wondrous power of the Holy Spirit to change a heart.
For more information, check out: “What Finally Broke Louis Zamperini.” 

#3. NOTES FROM THE TILT-A-WHIRL:
WIDE-EYED WONDER IN GOD’S SPOKEN WORLD
N. D. Wilson

… while guys like me are blabbing on about the need for beauty, guys like [Nate] are already delivering thoughtful, rich, dare-I-say exuberant prose that stirs up a sense of wonder at life, love, and the beauty of Christian truth.
Check out my interview with Nate here as well as some great quotes from the book (here and here).

#4. THE WARMTH OF OTHER SUNS:
THE EPIC STORY OF AMERICA’S GREAT MIGRATION
Isabel Wilkerson

By interweaving three individuals’ lives and the larger narrative of the Migration, Wilkerson paints a stunning portrait of life in the Jim Crow era…
Read my full review here.

 #5. READ THE BIBLE FOR LIFE:
YOUR GUIDE TO UNDERSTANDING AND LIVING GOD’S WORD
George Guthrie

… an easy-to-read yet in-depth approach to hermeneutics that focuses on connecting the dots of the big story line of the Bible.
See my review for Christianity Today here or my interview with George Guthrie here.

#6. THE LORD OF THE RINGS
J. R. R. Tolkien

Frodo’s humble devotion to a cause and Sam’s unflagging devotion to Frodo is the foundation of this epic battle of good versus evil.
Read one of my favorite passages here. 

#7. HERETICS
G. K. Chesterton

 It’s ironic that Chesterton’s literary foes who believed him backwards and old-fashioned are largely forgotten today, while we are still reading Chesterton a century later.
Read some of my favorite quotes here, here, here, and here.

#8. GOSPEL:
RECOVERING THE POWER THAT MADE CHRISTIANITY REVOLUTIONARY
J. D. Greear

[J. D. has] expressed in laypeople’s terms the type of confidence and security that comes from believing in the gospel of Jesus Christ…
Check out my conversation with J. D. here.

#9. DESTINY OF THE REPUBLIC:
A TALE OF MADNESS, MEDICINE, AND THE MURDER OF A PRESIDENT
Candice Millard

Not only did I finish it feeling like I knew James Garfield, I also enjoyed the thrilling pace of the plot development…
See my full review here.

#10. GOSPEL WAKEFULNESS
Jared Wilson

Anyone hungry and thirsty for righteousness will be refreshed by the invigorating streams of truth that flow from Gospel Wakefulness. Jared Wilson wants us to delight in the gospel to the point that sin becomes bitter and Christ becomes our supreme treasure…
See my full review here.

Notes on three books I’ve read recently:

Union with Christ:
Reframing Theology and Ministry for the Church
J. Todd Billings (Baker Academic)
My Rating: ****

Western Theological Seminary professor J. Todd Billings examines the doctrine of “union with Christ” in light of careful historical and exegetical reflection. Parting ways with recent Calvin scholars who seek to downplay the Reformer’s forensic (or legal) view of justification, Billings shows how the truth of a believer’s participation in Christ is grounded in Scripture and consistent with other Reformation insights. Union with Christ will start fresh conversations about this important New Testament doctrine.

Portraits of a Radical Disciple:
Recollections of John Stott’s Life and Ministry 
InterVarsity Press, 2011
My Rating: *** 1/2

Published shortly after Stott’s death, this book provides 35 testimonials about Stott from the people who knew and loved him most. The personal stories humanize John Stott by giving readers an up-close, personal, and warm view of his life and his ministry.

As you read the stories written by people who loved Stott, you catch a glimpse of the things Stott loved most. His love for creation was demonstrated by his hobby of bird-watching. His love for people was demonstrated by his personal evangelism and pastoral ministry. His love for the Bible was seen in the way he sought to be faithful to the text and let it set the agenda of his teaching. His love for the church was evident in the way he challenged his flock to be all they are called to be in Christ.

Luke: The Gospel of Amazement
Michael Card
InterVarsity Press, 2011
My Rating: ***

For my early morning devotions, I usually work my way through a book of the Bible slowly and meditatively. Sometimes it’s helpful to choose another book that guides the Bible reading. A few months ago, I spent significant time in the Gospel of Luke, and I used Michael Card’s commentary as a supplement. The idea behind The Biblical Imagination Series is this:

“The imagination is the vital bridge between the heart and the mind. It is the means by which the spirit begins to reconnect what was disintegrated by the fall” (13).

Card believes that imagination plays a role in how we understand and interpret the Bible. So, as he comments on the Gospel of Luke, he zeroes in on the theme of “amazement,” or “bewilderment.” Unfortunately, the commentary itself is not particularly imaginative. That doesn’t mean his reflections aren’t substantive or helpful. They are (and brief too!). I found Card to be a very capable guide to the Gospel of Luke, but it didn’t live up to the series promise of helping us develop a biblically-informed imagination as we interpret the Gospel.

- The first of these reviews first appeared in Christianity Today, November 2011.

This week, I am summarizing and commenting on the arguments presented in an important new book: Four Views on the Spectrum of Evangelicalism. Editors Andy Naselli and Collin Hansen have asked four Christian leaders for their views on the spectrum of evangelical identity.

First, we looked at Kevin Bauder’s view (Fundamentalist). Then we worked our way through Al Mohler’s essay (Confessional Evangelical). Yesterday, we summarized John Stackhouse’s position (Generic Evangelical). Today, we wrap up this series with Roger Olson’s essay (Postconservative).

What Is an Evangelical? The Postconservative View

Representing the postconservative viewpoint is Roger Olson, professor of theology at Baylor University. Olson agrees with the rest of the contributors that “evangelical” and “evangelicalism” are contested concepts, but unlike the other contributors he believes the project to define these terms is futile. He explains:

…evangelicalism has no definable boundaries and cannot have them. An organization has boundaries; a movement does not. And without boundaries it is simply impossible to say with certainty who is and who is not evangelical insofar as he or she shares certain common commitments identified by historians of the movement. (163)

Olson likens evangelicalism to a centered set that “admits of degrees of membership where absolute limits of membership elude identification” (164). As a movement (as opposed to an organization), evangelicalism has no definite membership. Historically speaking, Olson writes:

…contemporary evangelicalism is an unstable compound composed of two incompatible traditions.  These joined together… to fight liberal theology’s takeover of Protestant institutions and to provide a conservative ecumenical alternative to the National Council of Churches. (166)

From a sociological standpoint, Olson is largely in agreement with Bebbington’s quadrilateral (conversionism, crucicentrism, biblicism, and activism). Olson adds a fifth hallmark: “respect for historic Christian orthodoxy” (176). After working his way through each of these common themes of evangelical identity, Olson declares that there is such a thing as evangelical unity:

All the foregoing is to say that in spite of the fact that evangelicalism is an essentially contested concept and in spite of the reality of evangelical diversity and in spite of the movement having no boundaries, evangelical unity does exist. What does not exist is evangelical uniformity. (178)

Olson spends the rest of his essay playing “unity” and “uniformity” against one another, arguing for a “broad tent” view of evangelicalism that “includes a great variety of people all facing toward the center” (179). He does not believe inerrancy should be imposed on others as a mark of evangelical identity. Nor should any one objective theory of the atonement take preeminence in these discussions. He explains:

I view evangelicalism as a broad and inclusive movement of people, churches, and organizations commonly committed to certain experiences and beliefs in varying degrees. As a movement, it is unified without uniformity. Its unity is found in certain historical and theological family resemblances; its diversity is found in interpretations of the core, unifying beliefs and experiences. The core or center of the movement is composed of five discernible commitments: conversionism, biblicism, crucicentrism, activism, and respect for the great tradition of Christian orthodoxy. Evangelicalism as we know it today grew out of revivalism and fundamentalism and has tried to take the best from both traditions while leaving their worst excesses behind. (186)

What separates Olson from the other three contributors is his attempt to define evangelicalism inductively. He begins with those who self-identify as “evangelicals,” and then he works his way backward to a definition that will include them all.

Responses to Roger Olson

Kevin Bauder disagrees with Olson’s attempt to define evangelicalism as a movement. Bauder believes we should begin with “evangelicalism as an idea.” By focusing on the evangel of evangelicalism, Bauder concludes:

No one who denies the evangel can be reckoned as an evangelical. It does not matter whether the denial comes in practice or in principle. It does not matter whether it is explicit or implicit. The gospel stands as the touchstone of any legitimate evangelicalism. (191)

Ultimately, Bauder disagrees with Olson because the “broad tent” view forces evangelical theology “to impute normative status to mutilations and monstrosities” (192).

Al Mohler believes the main problem with Olson’s desire for evangelicalism to be a “centered set” without visible boundaries is that “the center has to be defined” (196). Mohler concludes:

I believe that Roger, despite his best and most honest efforts, does see the need for some boundaries. Yet he does not want to devote much attention to these boundaries… (198)

John Stackhouse believes that Olson’s convictions are overwhelmed by his “empathy for those at the receiving end of doctrinal restrictiveness” (200). It’s clear that Stackhouse is uncomfortable with some of Olson’s conclusions. He writes:

So we stand in the Great Tradition, yes, but always under the supreme authority of Scripture that is itself an instrument in the hands of its divine Author, who continues to teach us from it in the context of all the other things God is teaching us through all the other media with which God has blessed the world… (204)

My Comments

The difficulty in defining “evangelicalism” is due largely to the various ways we can approach this question:

• The inductive approach, adopted by many historians and sociologists, asks, “Who claims to be evangelical?” and then seeks to find common themes that unite those who say they belong to the movement.
• The descriptive approach is slightly narrower, as it takes into consideration the fact that many who claim to be evangelical are not recognized by the majority of evangelicals as “authentic.”
• The prescriptive approach answers this question from a theological perspective and seeks to shore up essential evangelical commitments as a way to maintain the viability of genuine evangelicalism for the future.

Olson’s essay takes the inductive approach and then adds a prescriptive twist. In other words, Olson doesn’t stop at saying, “here is what evangelicalism is (unity without uniformity)”; he goes on to prescribe by saying, “unity without uniformity is what evangelicalism should be.”

The strength of the postconservative view is that it seeks to define “evangelicalism” in a way that includes every person who likes the label. From the inductive perspective, this makes perfect sense. I happen to like Olson’s description of evangelicalism as “a great variety of people all facing toward the center.”

The big problem, of course, is that evangelicals are not in agreement as to what “the center” is. And once you get into the nitty-gritty of defining the center, you necessarily exclude. It is simply impossible to have a centered set with no boundaries, because the very idea of a center implies the existence of boundaries. Otherwise, there is no way to determine what the center is.

It seems to me that Olson’s essay is a noble attempt to rescue evangelical identity from those who would be quick to exclude certain persons from the camp. The rush to exclusion is certainly a danger – one that fundamentalism is quite familiar with. But in his rush to condemn “uniformity,” it seems that Olson has undercut any chance of seeing a vibrant and unified evangelicalism.

If there is to be uniformity, it should concern the evangel that unites evangelicals. There is no evangelical unity apart from gospel uniformity. This does not mean that we must all define and describe the gospel exactly the same way or in exactly the same categories. But some level of uniformity is necessary if evangelicalism is to thrive in the next generation.

The center must be renewed if the center is to hold.

This week, I am summarizing and commenting on the arguments presented in an important new book: Four Views on the Spectrum of Evangelicalism. Editors Andy Naselli and Collin Hansen have asked four Christian leaders for their views on the spectrum of evangelical identity.

First, we looked at Kevin Bauder’s view (Fundamentalist). Yesterday, we worked our way through Al Mohler’s essay (Confessional Evangelical). Today, we’re taking a look at John Stackhouse’s position (Generic Evangelical).

What Is an Evangelical? The Generic Evangelical View

Representing the generic evangelical view is John Stackhouse, professor of theology and culture at Regent College. Stackhouse begins with a broad definition that conceives of evangelicalism in terms of ethos:

…to be evangelical literally by definition means to be grateful for, and necessarily involved in, both the tradition of the church and its ongoing life as it mediates, again with the help of God’s Spirit, the good news of Jesus to us and to the rest of the world. (117)

He unpacks the definition of this evangelical ethos by focusing on how it expresses itself in belief and practice:

Religious groups of any sort can be defined helpfully according to three components: tenets, affections, and practices – that is, what they believe, what they care about, and what they do. Evangelicalism has always been an initiative of renewal and mission. (117)

Stackhouse devotes significant attention to the theme of renewal as he works through the history of the movement and then speaks to our present situation. A major impetus for evangelicalism is the desire to make up for whatever deficiencies are present in the church at any given time. He writes:

Evangelicalism has thus been literally radical: concerned to (re) connect with the roots of genuine Christianity, to cut away all that hinders its vitality and to develop anything that will help it flourish… As a renewal movement, that is, evangelicalism would naturally seek to remedy what was deficient by a corresponding emphasis. (118)

This emphasis on renewal leads Stackhouse to affirm Bebbington’s quadilateral: crucicentrism, biblicism, conversionism, and activism. But Stackhouse goes beyond Bebbington by adding more qualifiers. He traces our evangelical identity to the historical movement (based on the eighteenth-century revivals), and he adds “transdenominational” and “orthodoxy and orthopraxy” as appropriate criteria (124).

Additional qualifiers aside, Stackhouse recognizes the difficulty of excluding people as “unorthodox” from the evangelical fold. He admits:

…since it is part of the very ethos of evangelicalism to recognize differences of opinion precisely about what the Bible does and doesn’t say about a host of issues, many of them quite consequential, then when it comes to the present discussion, it now appears that none of us can properly say, “Well, anyone who holds to X can’t be an evangelical, because the Bible clearly forbids X. And that’s that.” Yet there is something troublingly odd about having to recognize a heretic as an evangelical. (126)

Indeed. So Stackhouse turns toward cooperation as the fundamental unifier of evangelicalism. He explains:

…evangelicals don’t just happen to cooperate: evangelicalism is marked by cooperation, by transdenominational partnerships to further the mission of God and the church in the world. (128)

But this emphasis on cooperation doesn’t mean that, doctrinally speaking, anything goes. That’s why Stackhouse can affirm ECT (Evangelicals and Catholics Together) for what it signifies (if not for its doctrinal statements): “a willingness among evangelicals to undertake serious theological work with anyone who can help them do so, even as those evangelicals also hope to provide some benefit to their interlocutors” (129). And he can also maintain the traditional evangelical view of the atonement as essential to evangelical theology (136).

Still, the ultimate question comes back to how cooperation takes place. And that’s where Stackhouse advocates a fluid, utilitarian approach to evangelical fellowship:

For many evangelicals, the question of who is and who isn’t an evangelical isn’t particularly important. What matters is who can help us in a particular instance with a particular task we are undertaking in the work of the kingdom. (138)

It is within this framework of transdenominational partnership that Stackhouse advises a balance between preserving the past and pressing into the future:

…we evangelical Christians, like all Christians everywhere, ought in each situation to strike a good balance between conservation and discovery, between critique and creativity.  And evangelicalism will continue to be a vibrant and effective part of Christ’s church precisely as it is neither bellicosely conservative nor blithely innovative, but faithful in both senses:  to be loyal and to be effective. (142)

Responses to John Stackhouse

Kevin Bauder reiterates the point of his previous essay, that more important than determining who belongs to the evangelical movement is determining (based on the veracity of a person’s profession of faith) who is really evangelical (that is, simply Christian). He writes:

Fundamentalists are evangelical. We believe, however, that the definition of evangelicalism is being debated only because the founders of “generic evangelicalism” made bad choices about the evangel itself. Denying the gospel its rightful position as the boundary of Christian recognition and fellowship is the very thing that has produced the increase of theological and ecclesiastical flabbiness. (149)

Albert Mohler believes the shortcomings of Stackhouse’s position are evident in the way evangelicals are thus forced to “accept major divergences from the central commitments.” In other words, if charity is used as an excuse for “nourishing theological error,” eventually evangelicalism will no longer be a definable theological movement. He goes on:

I do not think John’s proposal identifies evangelicals in a way that ensures that all who bear that designation can be counted on to bear a true witness to the gospel of Jesus Christ. (154)

Roger Olson’s response focuses on the distinction between the evangelical ethos (Bebbington’s quadrilateral) and the evangelical movement (Stackhouse’s criterion of transdenominationalism, for example). In the end, however, Olson sees little difference between his own view and Stackhouse’s:

In most ways they are very much alike. The only substantial difference I can see is one of degree, not kind. (159)

My Comments

I believe John Stackhouse’s description of “generic evangelicalism” comes closest to defining what evangelicalism currently is as a movement and ethos. This doesn’t mean that I necessarily believe “generic evangelicalism” is the ideal or that this view is without its flaws. It simply means that I think Stackhouse has given us the best description of what the movement looks like at the present time.

In terms of trajectory, the evangelical movement appears to be moving from the generic position toward a broader, more open position in line with Olson’s “postconservative” view. Perhaps this is why I resonate both with Stackhouse’s description of the movement and Mohler’s critique.

Stackhouse has put his finger on evangelicalism’s biggest strength and weakness: its emphasis on cooperation. Cooperation is a strength because it is rooted in Christ’s desire for unity. Cooperation is a weakness because doctrinal unity is often compromised for the sake of continuing cooperation. And eventually, cooperation not based in truth leads to the dilution of a movement’s identity – even an identity that prioritizes cooperation.

There are times when the desire for theological purity has led to the sacrifice of unity. And there are times when the desire for unity has led to the sacrifice of purity. In Thinking. Loving. Doing., David Mathis writes:

Part and parcel of the central Christian message is an impulse toward purity and an impulse toward unity. The purity instinct resists the compromise of the message, while the unity instinct is eager to link arms with others also celebrating the biblical gospel.

The reason purity and unity are, in this way, ‘built into’ the gospel is that the God of the gospel is himself both a purifier and a unifier. No one cares more for the purity of the gospel — that his central message to humanity not be altered or tainted — than God himself. And, mark this, no one cares more for the unity of his church around her Savior, his own Son, than God himself. God is the great purifier and unifier.

So likewise, his gospel — which not only saves and sanctifies but is the richest, deepest, and fullest revelation of who God is — has both a purity impulse and a unity impulse ‘pre-packaged’ into it, as it were. It’s quite simple on paper and gets terribly messy in real life.

Messy indeed. That’s why there are no easy answers to the question of evangelical identity. The neo-evangelical movement came about during a time when the early fundamentalists were becoming increasingly insulated and unity was being sacrificed on the altar of ideological purity. Today the situation is reversed. Doctrinal purity is often dismissed for the sake of continued cooperation.

If the generic evangelical movement is to continue forward, it will need to lean more toward the confessional view in order to maintain a definite theological and ecclesiastical character about it. Otherwise, evangelicalism may eventually become so broad as to no longer be definable by distinctive elements at all.

Tomorrow, we’ll wrap up this series by looking at Roger Olson’s “postconservative” position.

This week, I am summarizing and commenting on the arguments presented in an important new book: Four Views on the Spectrum of Evangelicalism. Editors Andy Naselli and Collin Hansen have asked four Christian leaders for their views on the spectrum of evangelical identity.

Yesterday, we looked at Kevin Bauder’s essay (Fundamentalist). Today, we’re taking a look at Al Mohler’s view (Confessional Evangelical).

What Is an Evangelical? The Confessional Evangelical View

Representing the confessional evangelical position is Albert Mohler, president of Southern Seminary in Louisville, KY. Mohler begins in a manner similar to Bauder, pointing to the gospel as the center of evangelical identity. He writes:

An evangelical is recognized by a passion for the gospel of Jesus Christ, by a deep commitment to biblical truth, by a sense of urgency to see lost persons hear the gospel, and by a commitment to personal holiness and the local church. (69)

Mohler recognizes the difficulty of coming to an established view of evangelical identity due to the ongoing nature of the conversation. He admits that “evangelical definition is dependent on a continual conversation and debate among evangelicals, association with evangelical institutions or churches, and identification with core evangelical beliefs” (74). And yet he also believes that “the integrity of evangelicalism requires a normative definition of evangelical identity.”

In developing a “normative definition,” Mohler points toward “Christian believers who seek a conscious convictional continuity with the theological formulas of the Protestant Reformation” (74-75), hence the introduction of the “confessional” aspect of his definition. He writes:

Evangelicalism is a movement of confessional believers who are determined by God’s grace to conserve this faith in the face of its reduction or corruption, even as they gladly take this gospel to the ends of the earth in order to see the nations exult in the name of Jesus Christ. (75)

How does this play out in practice? Mohler believes that evangelical identity is established by directing “constant attention to both the center and the boundary.” The way this takes place is through recognizing that doctrines can be distinguished and categorized in terms of their closeness to the gospel. Mohler’s “theological triage” divides issues into different levels:

1. First-level theological issues are most central and essential to the Christian faith. (78)
2. What distinguishes first-level and second-level doctrines is that evangelicals may disagree on the second-order issues, though this disagreement creates significant boundaries between believers. (79)
3. Third-order issues are doctrines over which evangelicals may disagree and yet remain in close fellowship, even within local congregations. (80)

After recounting his spiritual pilgrimage in Southern Baptist life, Mohler directs his attention to several contested areas of evangelical identity. He begins with the “trustworthiness and truthfulness of Scripture” and then outlines recent challenges to the doctrine of inerrancy. It appears that Mohler goes beyond his mentor, Carl F. H. Henry, in regarding inerrancy to be a first-order issue:

In Henry’s formation, inerrancy should be considered a measure of evangelical consistency rather than evangelical authenticity. But the trajectory of the debate quickly revealed that abandoning inerrancy and a verbal model of the Bible’s inspiration required adoption of some other model that could not undergird evangelical authenticity. Affirming the total truthfulness, trustworthiness, and authority of the Bible is a first-order theological issue. (91)

Mohler also affirms the exclusivity of the gospel and the “integrity of theism” (against open theism) as first-order issues. In writing about justification, Mohler sides with the early Reformers:

Justification by faith alone is an evangelical essential… If evangelical means anything, it means a bold assertion that sinners are justified only on the basis of what the Reformers called an alien righteousness – the righteousness of Christ imputed to all who believe in him. (93)

After having paid attention to the center of evangelicalism and the boundaries, Mohler concludes:

The center of evangelical faith is devotion to Christ and joyful confidence in the gospel. These are and must be the animating energies and passions of evangelicals as individual believers and churches, as well as the evangelical movement as a whole. But evangelicalism is coherent as a movement only if it is also known for what it is not. Attention to the boundaries is as requisite as devotion to the center. (95)

Responses to Al Mohler

Kevin Bauder points out the many similarities between the fundamentalist and confessional evangelical perspectives. But he is concerned about the message communicated by evangelical leaders who maintain alliances with those who are indifferent to the importance of doctrine and theology:

Fundamentalists reject indifferentism and refuse to recognize indifferentists as insightful Christian leaders. While not indifferentists themselves, confessional evangelicals have certainly been slower to distance themselves from indifferentism or to warn against it publicly. (102)

John Stackhouse points out that Mohler’s view is more “conservative” than “confessional,” as it is not tied in its entirety to any one theological tradition. He worries about the emphasis on sharp definition at the edges of evangelical identity and how “theological triage” is decided:

Without a clear presentation of what is primary, secondary, and tertiary in the Christian faith and how we can arrive properly at such distinctions, believers are rather at the mercy of this or that evangelical “magisterium” to say what’s what. (107)

Roger Olson complains that historically speaking, “many of the things Mohler wants to pack into the essentials category have been considered nonessentials by evangelicals of the past” (111). He makes a distinction between affinity and uniformity:

Affinity is different from uniformity; it simply designates common interests and goals. Marsden and other historians of evangelicalism are right; it has always been very diverse, and people like Mohler simply need to become more comfortable with that diversity and the ambiguity resulting from it. (115)

My Comments

The confessional evangelical position resonates with me because of its emphasis on the church. Mohler sees evangelicalism as a cross-denominational movement built around common doctrines, practices, and themes. And yet Mohler recognizes that even as evangelicalism is important, the church is more so. At the end of the day, issues related to boundaries must be established and enforced primarily within local congregations, not para-church organizations or broad cross-denominational movements.

I also agree that we need to be specific when considering the doctrines that define “evangelicalism.” Mohler is right to point out that simply stating key Christian themes does not help us narrow down “evangelical” identity as opposed to Mormonism, Roman Catholicism, Protestant Liberalism, etc.

But I wonder if Mohler’s specificity runs into problems when viewed through the lens of evangelical history. For example, if we adopt Al Mohler’s confessional evangelical position strictly (which requires a belief in double imputation), John Wesley would not qualify. Historically speaking, it’s difficult to make sense of evangelicalism apart from Wesley and his influence. To adopt a level of specificity that excludes Wesley seems a little like climbing up into a tree and sawing off the branches we’ve used to get where we are.

This leads me back to Mohler’s expressed desire for a normative definition of evangelical identity. Unpacking what we mean by “normative” can be instructive here.

For example, can C. S. Lewis be considered an evangelical? Perhaps, but an unusual one. That is, Lewis was not an evangelical in the normative sense. He affirmed an inclusivist position regarding salvation and was fuzzy on the specifics of the atonement. And yet few would contest the vibrancy of his faith and the deep evangelical commitment to the gospel that underscored most of his writing.

In the case of Lewis, Carl Henry’s distinction between evangelical authenticity and consistency is more helpful than Mohler’s proposal. Henry’s distinction gives us the ability to express a “normative” definition of evangelical identity (which is something Mohler believes is necessary too) while maintaining that evangelicals who depart in various ways from that definition can still be considered “evangelical,” albeit in an unusual and inconsistent sense.

Tomorrow, we’ll look at “generic evangelicalism” as defined by John Stackhouse.

What is an evangelical? It’s a simple question, but one that raises a number of various approaches. Depending on whom you ask, you may hear evangelicals described as…

• A religious political force within the Republican party.
• Christians who are really serious about their faith.
• A movement centered around the gospel as recovered and proclaimed in the Reformation and subsequent revivals.
• Christians with recognizable lingo (“personal relationship with Jesus”) who emphasize conversion and life transformation.

The debate over evangelical identity is nothing new. “Evangelicalism” has always been a contested concept, and it’s unlikely that the current debate will result in a consensus for future generations. Still, the question of evangelical identity is important and worthy of thoughtful discussion, for it brings us back to the gospel and its role in uniting Christians across denominational lines.

In light of this discussion’s importance, I will summarize the arguments presented in an important new book: Four Views on the Spectrum of Evangelicalism (Zondervan, 2011). Editors Andy Naselli and Collin Hansen have asked four Christian leaders for their views on the spectrum of evangelical identity.

1. Kevin Bauder (Fundamentalist)
2. Al Mohler (Confessional Evangelical)
3. John Stackhouse (Generic Evangelical)
4. Roger Olson (Postconservative Evangelical)

Reading the back-and-forth between these four men is a helpful exercise in discerning the importance of Christian truth and its relevance in decisions of cooperation and fellowship. In the next few days, I will briefly summarize the various points of view and offer a few reflections of my own.

What Is an Evangelical? The Fundamentalist View

Representing the fundamentalist position is Kevin Bauder, research professor at Central Baptist Theological Seminary. Bauder begins by showing how doctrine is what unites Christians (in varying degrees):

The question with which fundamentalism begins is, “What unites Christians? What do Christians hold in common?” Since Christian unity and fellowship may be greater or less, this question has both a minimal and a maximal answer. At the minimal level, some criterion must exist for differentiating Christians from other people. (21)

In responding to this question of Christian unity, Bauder points back to the gospel (22). Apart from the gospel, there is no unity.

The fundamental unity of the church is invisible and intangible. It is an inward unity that comes with belief in the gospel. This observation does not imply that outward, visible unity is unimportant. Outward unity, however, can be enjoyed only where inner unity already exists. In sum, unity is always a function of what unites. Fellowship always involves something that is held in common. (23)

Bauder’s view of unity and fellowship looks something like this: Gospel >> Inner unity >> Outward fellowship. Or going at it from the other direction, our fellowship is dependent upon the inner unity we have in believing the gospel. Though Bauder emphasizes doctrinal unity as the basis for fellowship, he takes care to articulate a position that focuses on one’s profession.

God alone knows who genuinely possesses faith. What Christians can know, however, and what they must evaluate, is who professes faith. (24)

In Bauder’s view, we are unable to determine who possesses genuine faith, but we are required to evaluate a person’s profession of faith. This evaluation is primarily doctrinal. “To trust Christ as Savior is to trust a doctrinal Christ,” he writes. “To reject the doctrines is tantamount to rejecting Christ himself” (29).

How does Bauder’s view play out in terms of Christian fellowship? Not surprisingly, the fundamentalist position emphasizes fundamental doctrines for understanding the proper boundaries of fellowship. “Since the gospel functions as the boundary of Christian fellowship, fundamental doctrines are part of that boundary,” he writes (29). And here’s the application:

Those who profess the true gospel are to be accorded fellowship as Christians. Those who deny the gospel are to be excluded from Christian fellowship. (31)

Next, Bauder lays out some ways that Christians can fellowship together despite the frequent “frustration” of this fellowship by doctrinal disagreements. Because we are not in total agreement on all points of doctrine, some level of frustration is inevitable. There will always be some degree of separation until Christ returns.

The question is not whether we should sometimes separate from each other. In fact, we cannot possibly cooperate with every other believer for every kind of Christian endeavor. The real question is how we can make God-honoring decisions about fellowship and separation. (37)

This brings us back to the issue of fundamentalist cooperation with evangelicals. According to Bauder, it is possible to have fellowship with evangelicals who are right on the gospel. But he is concerned about the message communicated by evangelicals who fellowship with people who deny the gospel. “Though they personally believe and preach the gospel, evangelicals who fellowship with apostates undermine the gospel’s function and demean its importance,” he writes (40).

Responses to Kevin Bauder

Al Mohler responds to Kevin Bauder with a pertinent question:

Should our goal be maximal fellowship through agreement concerning “the whole counsel of God”?  That allows for no disagreement on any theological issue, as if all are of equal importance. (53)

John Stackhouse calls into question Bauder’s exclusive focus on doctrine:

Why focus so much – in fact, almost exclusively – on Christian doctrine? Where are the traditional Christian – indeed, the traditional evangelical – emphases on mission and piety? Why is there no equal emphasis on orthopraxy (correct practice) and what I’m calling orthopathy (right affections)? (57)

Roger Olson responds by affirming Bauder’s view that one should not fellowship with apostates or heretics. But Olson puts his finger on the bigger issue behind Bauder’s essay, “Who decides?”

Even I do not have Christian fellowship with those I believe to be apostate or heretical. The difference seems to me to lie in who is considered apostate and heretical and how one should treat them. (63)

My Comments

Kevin Bauder’s emphasis on the gospel as the center of Christian unity is spot-on. In fact, it’s hard to imagine anyone disagreeing with his affirmation of the gospel as the necessary boundary for Christian fellowship. Would any evangelical say that we should openly endorse heresy and apostasy? I doubt it.

But here’s where things get tricky. Who decides what is the gospel? Who decides what doctrines are so fundamentally tied to the gospel that to deny the doctrine is to deny the gospel? Who determines what is “heresy” and “apostasy”?

As Reformation Christians, we return to the Scriptures as the supreme authority for answers to these questions. We also keep in mind the testimony and witness of the church through the years. Yet even among sola scriptura Christians, we find significant differences of interpretation as to how the Scriptures answer these questions.

The problem with Bauder’s fundamentalist position is that it lends itself toward the creation of a magisterium. Dynamic, charismatic leaders end up making these doctrinal decisions, and the people in the pews are expected to fall in line. Though fundamentalist doctrine and practice are worlds away from Roman Catholicism, you wind up with some of the same dynamics at work.

Mark Galli’s recent article in Christianity Today about evangelicals attracted to Roman Catholicism is instructive in the discussion about fundamentalism:

Of course the center will hold, because at the center is not a doctrine, nor some human authority figure, nor a complete and inerrant statement of faith. There is only the Center, Jesus Christ. We don’t need a magisterium. We already have a Lord, who told us that not even the gates of Hades (whose landlord loves to sow confusion in the church!) will prevail against the church.

In short, we don’t need premature closure as much as we need persevering confidence that the Spirit will lead us into all the truth we need, when we need it.

One other problem with the fundamentalist position is the difficulty of deciding what issues are essential to the gospel (and therefore to Christian fellowship) and what issues are important and yet secondary. Many of us who come from fundamentalist backgrounds understand how quickly this confusion takes place. When the pre-tribulational rapture is put on par with the Trinity in terms of “fundamentals” (the position of some early fundamentalists), we are well on our way to a “maximal” Christian fellowship that makes everything “of first importance.” Oddly enough, this development winds up diluting the importance of the essentials.

Tomorrow, we’ll look at Al Mohler’s “confessional evangelical” answer to the question of evangelical identity.

The story that opens Ben Witherington’s book Is There a Doctor in the House?: An Insider’s Story and Advice on Becoming a Bible Scholar clues you in that this isn’t going to be a typical “how-to” book for higher education. In a few paragraphs, Witherington recounts an episode in his life that includes a sweaty run through an airport, an almost-missed plane, a pair of torn trousers, and an embarrassing greeting. The immediate impression is that humility matters. Bible scholarship is different than other forms of higher education, and Witherington makes that point over and over again, not just through the advice he offers those considering this path but also through the humble way in which he offers it.

The purpose of the book is narrow. Witherington isn’t writing for those who want to be serious students of the Bible without becoming teachers. Nor is he writing for teachers of the Bible who have no ambition at becoming published Bible scholars. Instead, his target is a growing number of seminary students who desire “to become a good and even well-published Bible scholar” (20). But even if Witherington’s target audience is narrow, he insists that the learning process must be broad. He writes:

“…to be a serious student, much less a teacher or scholar of the Bible, you must have a love for learning – and not just learning during a particular period of your life, but lifelong learning” (21).

Pushing back against the anti-intellectual climate of some parts of evangelicalism, Witherington lays out the necessity of careful thinking when it comes to the Bible. “Ignorance is not bliss when it comes to the truth of and about God’s word,” he writes. “Indeed, ignorance is the enemy of the truth” (23).

This emphasis on truth-seeking is felt throughout the book. He not only stands against those who embrace ignorance as a virtue (some segments of evangelicalism) but also against those who embrace agnosticism as a virtue (the postmodern turn). “It is important that you do not allow your piety to outrun the evidence or overrule the pursuit of truth in the service of the truth,” he counsels. “Christian Bible scholars above all must be truth seekers” (34).  And truth-seeking means that we are not dealing with ideas, but reality. He goes on to write:

“…in fact the writers of the New Testament are not merely encouraging us to enter a debating club where ideas are thrown around like Frisbees. The New Testament writers believe they are talking about realities – real persons like Jesus, real events like the resurrection, real experiences like the new birth. The moment theological or ethical reflections forget that ideas are ways of talking about such realities is the moment when one has untethered theological or ethical discussion from its historical or real foundation” (69).

There are some wise words of counsel here, particularly in relation to humility and the ability to admit when you are wrong. I love this quote:

“The Bible teacher or scholar doesn’t need someone to invent humility pills; just taking in and taking seriously regular doses of the wisdom of the Bible is enough to humble any normal person” (124).

And then there’s this good word of warning:

“It’s precisely when the text does not cough up the results you were expecting or wanting that you find out what sort of Bible teacher or scholar you actually are” (127).

The best part of Witherington’s work is his insistence that biblical scholarship be done in service to the church. “It is not enough to know the Bible if you want to teach it,” he says. “You need to know the God of the Bible” (77). He goes on: “Research by a Christian is never done just for its own sake, or even just to advance knowledge in a given field. It is done in service to the Lord and to His church” (83). Amen!

I resonated in particular with his desire to see more cross-disciplinary conversations in biblical studies. “Not only do we need more dialogue across disciplines, we need more Bible scholars who actually are committed to be biblical theologians and biblical ethicists, seeking to apply the insights they have gained from the Bible to current and pressing theological and ethical issues” (73). Yes, yes, yes! The church is hungry for scholarship that not only gives insight into the meaning of the text but presses those insights into application for today’s world.

As one who is considering future Ph.D. plans, I benefited greatly from the wisdom of Ben Witherington. Is There a Doctor in the House? is a helpful primer on becoming a biblical scholar with a heart for the church.