I know a pastor who thinks militant Calvinism is about to overtake the Southern Baptist Convention and lead to multiple church splits. In personal conversation, he is constantly going back to the dangers of Reformed theology and the damage it is doing across the evangelical world.

I have a friend on the other side of the spectrum – a truly Reformed guy convinced that the contemporary church movement, particularly its Purpose-Driven manifestation, is man-centered, God-dishonoring and infecting evangelicalism all over the place, leaving us powerless for mission and divided in our churches. Whenever I talk with him, he is constantly railing against church growth and numbers-obsessed pastors who only want to build monuments to themselves.

I have another friend who has a visceral reaction whenever someone is expressive in worship. He talks often about how people are just showing off. Their enthusiasm isn’t real. If it gets out of hand, it will cause problems.

Do you know these types? Maybe it’s not Calvinism or church growth or charismatic expression but something else. The common thread you find is that they are almost obsessive in their critique of a movement, theological persuasion, or church practice they think is doing damage to the kingdom of God.

For the anti-Calvinist pastor, it was a church he labored over for many years. When he moved to another city, the church called a Reformed pastor who immediately began pushing a theological agenda that surprised and startled the congregation. A heated battle took place, and the church went through a messy split. The former pastor felt like much of the work he had done was obliterated by his Calvinistic successor.

For the anti-Purpose-Driven guy, it was a church he belonged to for many years. When a new pastor came in and began changing the direction of the church to become primarily focused on seekers, my friend felt increasingly uncomfortable. The new pastor downplayed doctrine and theology, leaving a number of church members feeling marginalized and antiquated. My friend’s concerns were shoved aside and ignored. Eventually, they had a painful parting with the church, and the pastor dismissed them as being more focused on theology than evangelism.

For the anti-charismatic guy, it was a church split that took place as a result of extreme charismatic expression. The wrangling and politics and behind-the-scenes infighting that was covered up by talk of “God moving” and “revival breaking out” causes him to resist any talk of that sort, even if it is perfectly biblical.

In these and other cases, you notice there’s usually a painful story that serves as the backdrop for their current crusade. And you can probably think of similar examples yourself. These guys may be at different points on the theological spectrum, but they are united by their similar story: bad leadership, painful parting, heartbreaking results – now leading to a passionate crusade.

No doubt there are angry, militant Calvinists who have split churches over hills not worth dying on. No doubt there are Purpose-Driven guys who have burned people as they made changes in churches. No doubt there are excesses in charismatic expression and situations of pastoral abuse of authority. While most Christians understand that you can’t judge a whole movement or theology based on these sad situations, the people in the thick of a controversy can and do. 

I’ve found that whenever I come across “issue Christians” – whether they be Calvinist, anti-Calvinist, church growth, anti-church growth, Dispensationalist, or charismatic – I ought to hear their story.

What is it about seeing a noted Calvinist author quoted in the bulletin that bugs you so much? We had a fierce battle over Calvinism a few years ago, and the church has not recovered.

What is it about raising your hands in worship that bothers you so much? My church split when the pastor led us in a charismatic direction where people were being slain in the Spirit.

Sometimes the crusader just wants to be heard. So let them tell their story. That said, debating the finer points of theology is not the way to go. Debating the strengths and weaknesses of the charismatic worship movement or the man-centered or God-centered nature of Calvinism or church growth isn’t the point. When someone’s been burned, they need a bandage, not an explanation of how the burning takes place.

I’m sorry to hear about the hypocrisy you saw during those worship services. Just goes to show you how messed up the church is, doesn’t it? My heart isn’t always fully engaged in worship either. Another reminder of how badly we’ve fallen and how much we need Jesus!

Don’t try to persuade them to give up the crusade. It’s probably not going to work. And theological crusades can distract us from the mission God has called us to.

Instead, offer to pray with them. Listen to them. Learn from them. Give them guidance if they ask for it. And then challenge the crusader to channel that passion back toward the Great Commission. Encourage them to not let their back story keep them from moving forward.

The furor over Rob Bell’s new book, Love Wins, shows no signs of subsiding. The development of the discussion has caused me to reflect on what a fever is and what it represents. Fevers don’t show up without a cause. A high temperature points to a bigger problem. It’s the sign that the immune system has kicked in and is fighting off an infection of some sort.

If we had a thermometer for the evangelical movement, we’d find a raging fever. But some evangelicals are responding to the fever in unhelpful and pastorally-damaging ways.

Response #1: The Fever is the Problem

When bloggers and pastors began responding to the promotional materials for Love Wins, many evangelicals used the occasion to point out their disagreement with the young, restless, and Reformed instead of dealing with the substantive issues Bell’s book brings to the surface. Conservative evangelicals sounded the alarm that Bell’s book was unorthodox, and a number of evangelicals threw stones at the messengers: You’re an alarmist. You’re just a bunch of heresy hunters. You can’t get along with anyone you disagree with.

Imagine being in a crowded building when the fire alarm goes off. Instead of looking for the fire or heading for the exit, everyone stands around the alarm and begins discussing its shortcomings:

“Wow, this alarm sounds so shrill. It hurts my ears. Someone should change the tone!”

“Who pulled this alarm anyway? I don’t smell any smoke. I don’t see a reason for the warning.”

“Well, I can smell smoke, but I’ve got to tell you – these alarms just go looking for smoke. Who do they think they are anyway?”

“Even if you can smell smoke, you shouldn’t sound an alarm until you see the fire for yourself. Silly alarms… so early. I’ll just sit tight and wait until the flames get here.”

A few days ago, I read a blog post in which the author was mourning the fact that we Americans aren’t more like our British brothers when it comes to controversy. Why can’t we keep ourselves from being embroiled in theological controversy? We Americans are the only Christians who feel compelled to join in robust theological debate with the intent to expose heresies.

In other words, fevered discussion of theological truth and error is the problem. The fever is the issue. Why not take a Tylenol and some Dramamine and chill out?

I can immediately think of two reasons to go after the infection. First, the Bible shows us a way of doing theological debate that is anything but sedated. Paul tells the Judaizers to emasculate themselves. John the apostle of love calls everyone who denies Christ’s humanity an antichrist. Jude calls us to defend the faith against those who deny Jesus Christ as our only Master and Lord.

Here’s another reason we shouldn’t just shrug our shoulders and say: “Let’s have a cup of tea and talk it out.” Look where that kind of theological engagement has gotten England. The “everything goes” mentality has robbed the Church of its power and has spawned a radically post-Christian society in which the Church practically has to begin all over again to gain a hearing for the gospel. As one British theologian has joked, “Wherever Paul went, there was a riot. Wherever I go, they serve tea.”

Response #2: The Body is Okay with Infection

The other response from evangelicals that has me scratching my head goes like this: Rob Bell’s universalistic tendencies are nothing new. In fact, we’ve always had a segment of evangelicals who lean in this direction. So let’s not get too worked up about universalism. After all, the denial or redefinition of hell isn’t that big of a deal in the long run.

To be fair, this kind of evangelical isn’t denying that universalism is heterodox. Returning to the sickness metaphor, I believe this group sees universalism as problematic. But the underlying message is this: This problem isn’t life threatening.

I don’t think so. And I don’t think Rob Bell thinks so either.

At the heart of Bell’s book is the issue of what God is like. The denial that God saves us from Himself and His holy, just, and awesome wrath is a denial that goes to the heart of the gospel. This is not a discussion on the level of complementarianism versus egalitarianism, views of the end times, or Calvinism and Arminianism (or any of the other “isms” that fall between the two).

Rob understands the stakes and he makes them clear in his book. He describes the traditional view as toxic. I disagree with his conclusion, but I admire his candor. Rob recognizes how high the stakes are in this debate. Why shouldn’t we?

So the idea that we can move forward in good Christian fellowship, accepting these kinds of views as just one segment of evangelicalism, is hopelessly naive. It assumes that there is still a unified evangel in evangelicalism, something that is simply not true if this kind of teaching passes as evangelical.

Conclusion

Evangelicalism has always been a big tent. The question before us today is, How big can the tent be before it caves in? How big can the tent be before “evangelical” means nothing more than “a professing Christian who is serious about what he/she believes”?

Where do denominations and confessions of faith fit into this picture?

What is the center of evangelical theology? Are there boundaries? If so, where? Who decides?

The situation created by Rob Bell’s book doesn’t answer any of these pressing questions. But the discussion certainly reveals the sickly state of the movement. For the past few weeks, I’ve been grieved by the unfolding of events and the response. At the same time, I’m confident. In every day and every age, Truth wins.

In 2003, I was a college student in Romania in need of some encouragement from pastors and teachers back in the U.S. An American pastor friend of mine recommended I listen to the preaching of two pastors: Rob Bell and James MacDonald. (Amazing that just eight years ago the ministries of these two men were seen as complementing each another!)

I downloaded dozens of Rob’s sermons from his early years at Mars Hill. I liked his preaching style and enjoyed his sermons from Leviticus. His most memorable message, “The Goat Has Left the Building,” ended with a powerful illustration of the truth that Christ bears our sins.

Two years later, I was less impressed with Rob’s teaching. I read Velvet Elvis as charitably as I could, but I was concerned by some of Rob’s affirmations. Rob likes to ask questions that appear to lead in one direction; he then pulls back and says something more akin to Christian teaching. (The “virgin birth” section, for example.)

The last time I listened to a Rob Bell sermon was in 2006. Rob had come under criticism because some were saying he denied that Jesus is the only way to God. Answering the criticism, Rob told his congregation: Let me set the record straight. Jesus is our only way. After that, I tuned out. “Jesus is our only way?” That was Rob’s way of having his cake and eating it too. He sidestepped the question in a way designed to deflect criticism, but leave the door open for pluralism.

Is Bell a Universalist?

In 2008, I read The God Who Smokes: Scandalous Meditation on Faith by Timothy Stoner. In the book, Tim recounts a conversation with some friends about Rob’s view of people without Christ:

“Okay,” I said, “I get that it is important to listen to other ‘stories.’ I get it that other points of view need to be given dignity. And I agree. But” – and here I took a breath for dramatic effect – “at the end of the day, is Rob saying that there are other stories that can lead to God? Is he just creatively repeating that old line from the 1900′s that led to the split between liberals and fundamentalists? Does he believe, down deep, that those who sincerely follow other roads, who pursue justice and compassion, even though they reject Jesus, will be saved?”

There was the moment of silence that inevitably follows explosive verbal gambits. What I didn’t expect was the fervor of the response.

In our small coterie, there was a young man who knew Rob personally. He had been a founding member of his church, had served in leadership roles, and so was on a first-name basis with him. After that split-second of quiet, he blurted out, “Of course that’s what he believes!”

The statement was not to be derogatory. It was an affirmation…

Rob’s newest book, Love Wins, promises to tackle the heaven/hell issue. The promo video is classic Bell: provocative, edgy, designed to start discussion.

Until the book comes out, I don’t think we can accurately label Rob a “universalist.” Based on Rob’s tendency to ask edgy questions and then pull back, I expect that somewhere in the book, Rob will affirm that people who don’t want to be part of God’s kingdom won’t be forced to. In the end, Rob will land somewhere between optimistic inclusivism (most everyone will be saved) and universalism (all will be saved).

Rob’s optimistic inclusivism will lead to a redefinition of Christian teaching. I suspect that in the book Rob will redefine evangelism as telling people what is already true about them (that they are forgiven, God is not angry). Conversion will be refashioned as “coming to terms with your state of forgiveness. Salvation from God is about realizing that you don’t need to be saved from God.

The Attractiveness of the Judgmentless “Gospel”

Whenever theological discussions like this erupt, it’s always a good idea to think about why certain views are popular. One of the six counterfeits I discuss in Counterfeit Gospels is “The Judgmentless Gospel” and in that chapter, I point out three reasons why it is attractive:

1. It removes an emotional barrier to Christianity.

Let’s face it. One reason we are attracted to this counterfeit is because it helps us get past a significant emotional barrier to sharing our faith. If we remove the obstacle and offense of eternal judgment, we will be in a better position to make Christianity more palatable to a society that has no room for judgment in its understanding of God.

Unfortunately, when we downplay or deny judgment, we lose one of the reasons to share our faith in the first place. Our desire to remove the obstacle actually removes the urgency.

2. It eases our conscience.

Another reason this counterfeit is attractive is that it eases our conscience when we fail to evangelize. It would take a load off my shoulders to affirm, along with Origen, that all will eventually be saved, including the devil. But the Bible doesn’t let me go down that road. Adopting the counterfeit also helps us deal emotionally with the fact that we have unsaved friends and family members who have died. We don’t want to imagine that Grandpa may be in hell. Downplaying judgment helps us cope.

3. It keeps us from having to come face to face with our own evil.

Most of us in the West have been shielded from the atrocities of humanity. If we were to have experienced Cambodia’s killing fields, or Auschwitz, or Rwanda, we might be more concerned about justice. Os Guinness quotes Winston Churchill as saying that the evidence that God exists was “the existence of Lenin and Trotsky, for whom a hell was needed.”

Once we admit that justice is necessary, we open the door for our own sins to be dealt with. Perhaps this gospel is attractive because there is a part of us that would like to suppress justice rather than admit justice and thus indict ourselves.

The Beauty of the Biblical Gospel

In the end, though, the judgmentless gospel is no gospel at all. It leaves us with a diminished God and no need for grace:

Take away the notion of judgment and you rob Christianity of any hope of satisfying our longing for justice, a longing built into us from our just and wise God. The judgmentless gospel fails to deal with the problem of evil and the detrimental way that we humans treat each other (and by extension, God). Once we take away judgment, we lose the gravity of our sin. Once we lose sight of our sinfulness, we short-circuit our experience of the powerful gratitude that comes from receiving grace.

What the judgmentless gospel leaves us with is a one-dimensional God – a sappy, sanitized deity that we can easily manage. He nods and winks at our behavior, much like a kind elderly man who is not seriously invested in our lives. But the evil of our world is much too serious for us to view God as a pandering papa.

The picture of God in the Bible is much more satisfying. He is angry because he is love. He looks at the world and sees the trafficking of innocent girls, the destructive use of drugs, the genocidal atrocities in Africa, the terrorist attacks that keep people in perpetual fear, and he – out of love for the creation that reflects him as creator – is rightfully and gloriously angry. Real love always wants the best for the beloved.

The God who is truly scary is not the wrathful God of the Bible, but the god of the judgmentless gospel, who closes his eyes to the evil of this world, shrugs his shoulders, and ignores it in the name of “love.” What kind of “love” is this? A god who is never angered at sin and who lets evil go by unpunished is not worthy of worship.

The problem isn’t that the judgmentless God is too loving; it’s that he’s not loving enough.

I pray that Rob will once again preach the glories of the God who truly loves, the God who upholds his own glory at all costs, the God who loves us despite our sin, the God who takes on flesh and dies for us in order that we might find eternal satisfaction in him. In the words of Tim Stoner, Holy love wins:

… The love that wins is a holy love.

The love that won on the cross and wins the world is a love that is driven, determined, and defined by holiness.

It is a love that flows out of the heart of a God who is transcendent, majestic, infinite in righteousness, who loves justice as much as he does mercy; who hates wickedness as much as he loves goodness; who blazes with a fiery, passionate love for himself above all things.

He is Creator, Sustainer, Beginning and End.

He is robed in a splendor and eternal purity that is blinding.

He rules, he reigns, he rages and roars, then bends down to whisper love songs to his creatures.

His love is vast and irresistible.

It is also terrifying, and it will spare no expense to give everything away in order to free us from the bondage of sin, purifying for himself a people who are devoted to his glory, a people who have “no ambition except to do good”.

So he crushes his precious Son in order to rescue and restore mankind along with his entire creation.

He unleashes perfect judgment on the perfectly obedient sacrifice and then pulls him up out of the grave in a smashing and utter victory.

He is a God who triumphs…

He is a burning cyclone of passionate love.

Holy love wins.

The blogosphere has erupted with conversation over Brian McLaren’s newest book, A New Kind of Christianity: Ten Questions That Are Transforming the Faith.

Traditional evangelicals claim the book is heretical. Some in the Emerging Church conversation, who have been quietly distancing themselves from McLaren, are now publicly registering their disagreement.

Since there are already a good number of in depth reviews, I will hold my comments to a few observations. I believe that, when the dust settles, this book might prove to be good for the Emerging Church. Here are three reasons why:

1. McLaren is drawing lines and forcing people to choose camps.

Do you see the irony here? McLaren, who has blasted traditional Christians for “drawing lines” and dividing people into “insiders” and “outsiders”, has written a book so opposed to orthodox Christianity that he has marginalized himself.

McLaren is forcing people to choose between his camp and “fundamentalism”. Gone are the days of nuance and subtle distinction. If you oppose McLaren, you must be held captive to a Platonic, dualistic worldview of fundamentalist black and white.

This book will hopefully lead to soul-searching (and maybe even Scripture-searching!) for those who still claim the Emerging label. McLaren’s proposal makes people decide whether they view Christianity the way he does, or whether they stand with Nicea, Chalcedon, and the Reformation. You are either with him or against him.

2. McLaren’s proposal demonstrates the hypocrisy of liberalism.

Another point of irony: McLaren comes across in this book like a fundamentalist arguing for liberalism. The gentle and humble tone of some of McLaren’s previous books is drowned out by his scorn for traditional Christianity. I believe it is hypocritical for McLaren to argue against the perceived attitudes of his “fundamentalist” opponents while displaying the same attitude that he supposedly rejects.

Also interesting… Though McLaren has built a reputation as being opposed to modernist thought, his newest book may very well be the quintessential modernist project. For all his talk about leaving the confines of Western, Modern, American thought, he is blazing a very Western, Modern, American trail. He is the lone ranger leading us into the Promised Land. Everyone else has it wrong, but this American has it right. Goodness, he even throws in some typical American anti-intellectualism. (After all, McLaren was never “corrupted” by seminary education.)

For all his talk about community over individualism, McLaren would be hard pressed to find any continuity with past Christians regarding the kind of beliefs he is now espousing. There is simply no community within historic Christianity that has advocated these views in this form.

It is hypocritical for McLaren to make himself out to be the 21st century man with postmodern sensibilities, deferring to the “community of faith.” No… he is the lone individual standing over against the community of faith through the ages. He has become exactly what he formerly opposed.

3. This book will cause other conversationalists within the Emerging Church to clarify their beliefs.

The best part of McLaren’s work is that it leads the Emerging Church to the very place that many within the movement have resisted for so long: clarity and definition. From this point on, because of McLaren’s polarizing proposal, those associated with Emergent Village will be inevitably forced to clarify their beliefs in distinction to McLaren’s.

I remember the days when Emerging Church folks were weary of traditionalists always asking them to be more clear and direct about their beliefs. Now, McLaren himself has sounded the clarion call for people who believe like him to be honest. Mike Wittmer writes:

McLaren says that at the beginning of their movement, he and his friends were “peace-loving people” who didn’t “want to needlessly upset anyone,” so they thought, ‘Maybe this new understanding can simply be added to what we already have, gradually, gently, so people won’t even notice…Maybe we can simply add this kingdom-of-God stuff as fine print on the bottom of our existing theological contracts…without upsetting anyone.”

Brian writes that “Many are still working with this hope, and I wish them luck”—which should be a wake-up call to us all.  Brian says that for his part he can no longer pretend, for “the cat is out of the bag” and it’s time to be honest about his new Christianity and admit that it can’t be crammed into the traditional way the church has believed in God.

There you have it. McLaren is the one calling for clarity. In this case, I hope that his sympathizers will follow his advice. We will all be the better for it.

One of the important books for evangelicalism in 2009 is Deep Church: A Third Way Beyond Emerging and Traditional by Jim Belcher (see my review here).

Last week, Greg Gilbert, associate pastor at Capitol Hill Baptist Church, posted a review of Deep Church that criticized the book for attempting to work with people who do not affirm the gospel. I wrote Jim and asked if he would like to answer a few questions in response to this criticism of his book.

Jim Belcher: Let me just say I am grateful to Greg for reviewing my book and making his differences clear. That is how we learn from each other.

I am also grateful to you, Trevin, for letting me respond to Greg’s review on your blog. I hope I can respond clearly but kindly.

Trevin Wax: Greg Gilbert believes that a “third way” that brings together Emerging and Traditionalists will not work. In my reading of your book, I didn’t get the impression that you were trying to bring together the hard left wing of Emergent with the strong traditionalist. You are not envisioning Brian McLaren and John MacArthur coming together. Instead, you are hoping that traditionalists will listen and learn from the Emerging critique and that the evangelical wing of the Emerging side will stay grounded in orthodoxy. Am I missing your point here?

Jim Belcher: No, I don’t thinking you are missing my point. One of the things I was trying to do was call a time-out to the rhetorical shouting match (as Rich Mouw says in the foreword) so that both sides can hear each other.

I think Christian love and civility calls us to be good listeners first, even when we disagree. It also calls us to represent the others argument in a way that they would recognize.

One of the things that surprised me about Greg’s review is that he keeps talking about “Emergent” or the “emergent church”. I spent a whole chapter defining the emerging church and make the point that the Emergent Village is only one of three groups in the camp. I am not sure how he missed this point.

I further make the point that one can’t describe the whole emerging movement by the thoughts of the Emergent Village. Sometimes they are in agreement with the broader movement but sometimes they are not.

When I interact with Brian McLaren’s views on the gospel or any of the thinkers I look at, I make it clear that each one of them does not necessarily speak for the whole movement. There are plenty of emerging thinkers who would not hold the same views as Brian. And vice versa. So to paint the whole movement with one thinker’s views is simply not fair. I tried to make this clear.

Trevin Wax: Greg writes: “When Belcher says he’s writing for ‘the majority’ who ‘want to learn from both sides,’ where exactly does that leave those of us in both the emergent and traditional camps who think there are really some serious issues at stake?” I’m perplexed by this statement. I want to learn from both sides, and yet I agree with Greg that there are serious issues at stake. Is it necessarily at odds to have firm convictions on the gospel and yet still think we can take something away from the Emerging critique?

Jim Belcher: This is a false choice. I agree there are serious issues at stake. That is the reason I wrote the book and spent so much time and effort delving into these issues. They are important issues for the church. I hope this comes across in my book.

But why should the weightyness of the issues mean that we can’t learn from others we disagree with? Or that we can be civil?

Why does the importance of an issue mean that we don’t have to listen well or that we can be dismissive in how we interact with those we disagree with? I really believe we can interact with convicted civility, meaning that we can be both civil and convicted at the same time. That is the approach I tried to take in the book.

Trevin Wax: Gilbert says: “It’s also worth pointing out that Belcher’s idea of a “new ecumenism” on the basis of the ancient creeds is not going to work, either. The creeds are not Scripture, and they are not heaven-sent, inspired, once-for-all standards of what it means to be a Christian.”

Jim Belcher: This is a fairly standard response from those in the free-church tradition towards the Great Tradition. The Anabaptists first made this argument at the time of the Reformation. Greg is not saying anything that those in the Lutheran and Reformed camps didn’t hear in the 16th Century.

I would never say the Great Tradition precludes the primacy of Scriptural authority. As D.H. Williams says, for the church fathers “Scripture was the authoritative anchor of tradition’s content, and tradition stood as the primary interpreter of Scripture.” I think that is right.

I think the reformers would have agreed. The Magisterial Reformers (like Calvin and Luther) did not think of sola scriptura as something that could be properly understood apart from the church or the foundational tradition of the church.

Listen to Calvin appeal to the Great Tradition as he counters the Roman Catholic Cardinal Sadoleto:

“You teach that all which has been approved for fifteen hundred years or more, by the uniform consent of the faithful, is, by our headstrong rashness, torn up and destroyed….You know…that our agreement with antiquity [the Great Tradition] is far closer than yours, but that all we have attempted has been to renew that ancient form of the church.”

And Luther contended that Rome had abandoned the ancient faith in its preference for canonical law:

“The present position of the church in the papacy is woefully at variance (as is evident) with the ways of the councils and the Father.”

Or Melanchthon, Luther’s disciple, wrote in the conclusion to part I of the Augsburg Confession (1530):

“This is the sum of doctrine…nothing which is discrepant with Scripture or with the church catholic or even with the Roman church as far as that church is known from the writings of the Fathers.”

What he was saying is that the problem is not the church Fathers but the “traditions” that have crept into church that are not in accord with the Great Tradition or the Scriptures.

So when Greg says that he is “amazed that Belcher—as a PCA minister who is presumably well-versed in what was at stake in the Reformation—would think that affirming the ancient creeds would be a sufficient ground for ecclesiastical unity” I contend that I am standing right in line with what the reformers believed about the Great Tradition.

He, as a Baptist, really can’t say this. His position, historically, is much closer to the traditional church argument that I describe in the book. His next statement, “I’m sure the pope will be delighted to hear that!” just does not understand the argument the Reformers were making in regard to the church Fathers. The point they were making was that Rome had no longer held to this Tradition but had added much teaching that went against the church Fathers or what was called the “rule of faith.”

The whole point of the Reformation was not to break away from the Roman church but to reform it so that it stayed faithful to the Scriptures as described in the Great Tradition. It was an attempt to purify the Roman church, not reject the church Fathers. In other words, the Reformers rejected Roman “traditions”, with a small “t”, and wanted to return to the Great Tradition, big “T’.

Trevin Wax: It seems that Greg is putting forth the idea that to be within the Great Tradition is necessarily opposed to being Reformational. Is that the case?

Jim Belcher: The argument that somehow if I contend, like the Reformers did, for the recovery of the Great Tradition that somehow this means I am devaluing the atonement or the gospel is just not accurate. Or that I somehow don’t think it is as important as some of the issues tackled in the creeds of the fourth and fifth century is not true.

There is no doubt that the Reformation made some great gains in our understanding of the gospel and atonement. But we need to remember that they did not come up with these out of whole cloth or by just reading the Bible in isolation. They always read the Bible in community, the community of the Great Tradition. And this is what they were calling Rome back to, especially with the doctrine of justification.

This is a fairly common historical misunderstanding that somehow the church until the Reformation was in the dark about justification by faith and the doctrines of grace and that only at the time of the Reformation was this doctrine discovered. This is not true. Both Luther and Calvin relied heavily on Augustine, one of the church Fathers, for their views on justification. And many other church Fathers discussed justification. As Tom Oden contends justification by faith was not a new teaching invented by the Reformers.

Along with the Scriptures, justification finds its roots in the early church and patristic Fathers, says Oden. So to say that the Great Tradition somehow devalues or does not have the resources to articulate the gospel is just not true.

Does this mean that the understanding that the Reformation brought to this doctrine is not important? I would say no; it is important. But this does not mean that the Great Tradition does not have the resources for Christian unity. I think it does. That is why the Reformers appealed to it along with the Scriptures.

Trevin Wax: Greg asks: “Just how important to you is this gospel that Jim Belcher himself says the emergent church does not affirm? And then later he states, “The emergent church does not affirm the gospel. They don’t hold to penal substitutionary atonement.”

Jim Belcher: Nowhere in my book do I say that the entire emerging church rejects the gospel or penal atonement. Or that every one in the Emergent Village (I never use the phrase “Emergent church”) rejects the atonement. I don’t even say Brian McLaren says this. When I asked him in person if he believed in penal atonement he said that he did. So I take him at his word.

Does this mean that there are some in the emerging church who do reject penal atonement? There may be, but this in no way represents the entire movement. There is a huge segment of the emerging church that is solidly and historically evangelical on this point.

Are there some that are guilty of gospel reductionism? Certainly, and I want to call them back to a non-reduced gospel.

But I also make the case in the book that there are people in the traditional camp, and even the reformed camp, who are also guilty of gospel reductionism as well. That is why I lay out a third way as gently but as confidently as I can.

I hope that for those who have not read Deep Church that they will take the time to read it.

Just when you thought the Emerging versus Traditional conversation had arrived at the point where everyone was safely nestled in their own camps and set in their ways, a Presbyterian pastor comes on the scene and challenges our tacit approval of evangelical fragmentation.

In Deep Church: A Third Way Beyond Emerging and Traditional (IVP, 2009), Jim Belcher proposes a ”third way” between Emerging and Traditional. Deep Church is for evangelicals who resonate with much of the Emerging Church’s critique of contemporary evangelicalism, and yet have misgivings about some of the proposed solutions of Emerging advocates. Using the term “deep church” from a 1952 letter written by C.S. Lewis, Jim proposes a way forward that focuses on the strengths of Traditional and Emerging churches.

The book is as much narrative as theological analysis. Jim tells the story of his early involvement in the Emerging conversation. As he evaluates the Emerging critique, he visits actual churches. Far from being an armchair critic, Jim sets out to witness what the Emerging Church is like “on the ground.”

Relying on Ed Stetzer’s division of the Emerging Church into Relevants, Reconstructionists and Revisionists, Jim then considers the validity of Emerging concerns regarding contemporary evangelicalism. In a parenthetical statement near the beginning of the book, he sets the tone of discussion by saying, ”I believe that even when I disagree with others, I can still learn from them.” (36)

The central thrust of Deep Church is a call for unity around the central tenets of the faith. Jim seeks to ground our unity in the central confessions of ancient Christianity:

“We are not ashamed of our tradition; we embrace it and practice it. But at the same time we desire and promote the broader unity of the church.” (65)

Jim’s view has postmodern sensibility, and yet he steps back from fully embracing postmodern philosophy. He critiques Emerging leaders for “jumping on the postmodern bandwagon too quickly.” He sees problems with the idea that the community’s relational hermeneutic should be the final criterion for judging right from wrong. He writes:

“Apart from revelation, there is nothing to hold a particular tradition, community or history accountable. There is no prophetic voice.” (83)

Jim also evaluates the Emerging emphasis on bringing people into relationship with the church before they actually believe. In the Emerging mindset, belonging precedes believing – even on mission trips! Jim carefully considers the Traditional church’s criticism of this idea. In the end, he advocates a nuanced view that portrays the church’s proclamation of the gospel as a well. The well attracts people closer to conversion. But at some point, Jim believes there must be an inside-outside boundary.

The chapter on the “deep gospel” is important. He agrees with Emerging leaders that the traditional understanding of the gospel has been reduced to individual salvation. But Jim ably exposes the reductionism in the Emerging view as well:

“Brian McLaren’s view of the kingdom, which is supposed to be so liberating, tends toward legalism. Without God’s atoning grace, the message of the kingdom sounds like law. and this is, I believe, why so many of my college friends dropped out of Christianity. They could not pull it off.” (119)

Regarding worship, Jim points us back to the ancient church:

“Only the living tradition of the fourth and fifth centuries, passed on through the ages… can help us contextualize the gospel in our worship without it becoming syncretistic or ossified over time.” (134)

Regarding preaching, Jim refuses to pit biblical narrative against systematic theology. He writes:

“The pastors at Redeemer preach sermons rooted in the Bible – both the drama of salvation from each of the Testaments and the wonderful doctrines of Christianity.” (139)

Deep Church is one of the best books to “emerge” about the Emerging Church. I found myself nodding my head in agreement with most of Jim’s critique and proposed solutions. And yet, I have a few misgivings of my own.

First, as a Baptist, I disagree with the idea of setting such a “low bar for membership.” Jim’s church does not require members to subscribe to anything that is outside the bounds of Nicene Christianity:

“Let me provide an example. To become a member of Redeemer Church you must be a Nicene Christian, committed to ‘living as becomes a follower of Christ’ and be willing to submit to the community. What about views on baptism? The Lord’s Supper? Politics? The end times? The anti-Christ? Although important and although we hold views on each of them, holding different views on these topics will not keep you from the Well of Redeemer and belonging to our church.” (158)

I agree that some of the above examples should not be a hindrance to membership. But setting the bar this low appears very invidualistic.

If some in the congregation believe in believer’s baptism by immersion and others believe in baptizing infants, what will take place?

If some believe that women can and should be elders or pastors and others disagree, what will happen?

If some believe in speaking in tongues during worship and others do not, how will that be handled?

My question is this: Is it possible to have a high bar for local church membership (meaning, ask for a certain level of doctrinal unity on some secondary issues) and yet still demonstrate significant appreciation for other churches and denominations that disagree? I think so. I share a certain level of unity with Jim around the central tenets of the gospel and I agree with his “centered-set hermeneutic.”

Regarding fellowship, I can cooperate with Jim as a Nicene Christian. Regarding local church membership, I belong to a Baptist church, which involves an additional level of unity on other issues. Can I still be a Nicene Christian and a convictional Baptist? Can I still be an advocate of “deep church” and have high bars for local church membership? I think so.

On another note, I wonder what the reasons are for Jim’s emphasis on the fourth and fifth centuries. Jim advocates a return to our roots, to the pre-pragmatic era of Christianity. I am glad to see the emphasis on our heritage.

But even as Jim admits “there is not a golden time to return to” (136), it appears that the fourth and fifth centuries serve as a quasi-Golden Age for the book. If we are going back so far, why stop at the fourth century? Why not return to the first?

I like the Robert Webber-influenced “Ancient-Future” emphasis in this book, but I wish that Jim would have made a case for why it is appropriate that we return to the 400′s. Why not return to the 16th century? Or the 900′s? It appears to me that our post-Christian society is becoming more and more like the world before Constantine. I need more reasons for accepting that the Christendom era Jim describes is the most relevant to our day and age.

Overall, Deep Church is a must-read for any pastor or church planter. Jim offers a proposal filled with gentle hope. If you have felt like you are caught in the crossfire between the Emerging and Traditional camps, you will enjoy insights of Jim Belcher and his hope-filled proposal for a united, stronger evangelicalism.

Today, I am posting an interview with a good friend of mine, Robbie Sagers.

Robbie is a Ph.D student at Southern Seminary and serves as Special Assistant to Dr. Russell Moore, the senior vice president of SBTS. Robbie has contributed a chapter to the recent book, Evangelicals Engaging Emergent: A Discussion of the Emergent Church Movement (B&H, 2009).

Trevin Wax: You and I have talked about being weary of the Emerging conversation. I’ve got my reasons for being weary of the discussion, but I wonder what about the discussion tires you and why we keep talking about it if we’re weary about it!

Robbie Sagers: It’s been said so often that it’s probably become cliche, but even trying to define the different conversationalists in the emerging church discussion can be like trying to nail Jell-O to the wall.

Several different taxonomies for understanding the different groups or subsets (or even “streams”!) have been provided – Scot McKnight, Mark Driscoll, Ed Stetzer, Darrin Patrick, and Phyllis Tickle, among others, have all tried their hand at it, but up to this point it doesn’t seem that any one breakdown has won the day. The emerging/Emergent distinction was helpful for some time–and is still helpful insofar as it goes–but even it seems a bit outdated at this point. So… discourse over something that seems so inherently amorphous can be tiresome.

That being the case, in thinking critically about the emerging church movement, it can be even more difficult to critique the critiquers. Every time someone lumps, say, Dan Kimball in with, for example, Brian McLaren, I find myself thinking, “But they’re so different! There needs to be greater clarity as to the distinction.”

And so goes the cycle. Those within the emerging church movement claim to be misunderstood by some who seek to understand them–and there may be some truth to that.

But at the same time, the question must be asked: why is it so difficult to understand a theological and methodological conversation that has been carried out for well over a decade? The blame for the lack of clarity here cannot all be placed at the feet of those who critique; those critiqued must know that a lack of clarity (quite different than theological mystery or paradox) is not a virtue in itself.

Another reason why some may be growing weary of the emerging church conversation is that the conversation is losing participants, and those left – with a few notable exceptions – seem to be speaking more softly. I think there are any number of reasons for this, the lack of direction regarding the movement not being the least among them.

Certain segments of the emerging church movement certainly did emerge from something – in the case of those on the most radical wing of the movement, they emerged right on out of Christian orthodoxy. But I think it would be difficult to make a strong case that many within the emerging church have emerged to anything. In the end, it’s hard to continue to gain followers when the leaders don’t seem to have a clear sense of where they are going.

Trevin Wax: In Evangelicals Engaging Emergent, you contribute a chapter on the various views of salvation within the Emerging Church. What are some of the positive aspects of the ECM regarding salvation?

Robbie Sagers: I think that some within the emerging church movement keyed in on some things that have been under-emphasized in evangelical churches for some time. In other words, perhaps one of the reasons that the emerging church movement gained a hearing with so many evangelical Christians is that so much of what has been said is true, and biblical.

For example, many within the emerging church movement seek to recover an understanding of salvation within a narrative context.

Seeing the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus as the climax of God’s story of redemption can be much more powerful when understood within the flow of history (as opposed to isolated proof-texts), as detailed in places like Matthew 1 and Luke 3. The genealogies of Jesus are not placed in those Gospels to make our eyes glaze over as we read; instead, they speak to the fact that God has been working in human history to bring about one Man from a remnant of Jews from the nation of Israel formed by the tribes of twelve brothers descended from Jacob the son of Isaac the son of Abraham the worshiper of the God who created Adam and Eve. Everything leading up to the coming of Christ had been purposed to bring about this seed of the woman who would crush the head of the serpent.

Understanding one’s own story as ultimately fruitless and hell-bound apart from its being crucified and raised in the crucified and raised Messiah can help one to make sense of his life – his past, his present, and most certainly his future.

Others within the movement have emphasized the need to bear fruit in keeping with repentance, as the Christian life ought to be characterized not simply by a one-time past decision but by ongoing repentance of sin and continual faith in the Lord Jesus.

Brian McLaren, for example, uses the illustration of a runner competing in a race: the person who ascribes to salvation as a one-time decision is similar to the person who stops to congratulate himself after having just crossed the starting line. Not to persevere to the end of the Christian life may evidence someone who was never really running at all.

To propose a dismissal of any distinction between justification and sanctification, as Tony Jones suggests Christians ought to do, is going much too far in this regard, of course, as would be any suggestion that there isn’t a point in time in which God rips out a sinner’s heart of stone to replace with a heart of flesh, even if the exact moment of that conversion is known only to God. But that doesn’t mean that there isn’t something of this emerging church impulse that should be heard and received through the framework of the Scriptures.

The focus on the future cosmic redemption of all things as having implications for Kingdom seekers today – perhaps even in, for example, the spending of a Saturday sprucing up the local city park – is also helpful in thinking through the now and not yet tension of the Kingdom of God, and the rejection of a sacred/secular dichotomy that infects some evangelical churches.

And lastly, the emphasis of some within the emerging church movement on the need for the individual believer to display his believing within the context of a community of fellow believers – within, that is, the church – is a much needed correction to the individualistic tendencies inherent within some segments of evangelicalism.

Trevin Wax: What worries you about some Emerging Church views of salvation?

Robbie Sagers: What I find concerning about some emerging church leaders’ salvific beliefs is

• a blunted view of the radical depravity of mankind;
• the dismissal of the necessity of the bloody, penal substitutionary death of Jesus;
• the denial of a literal hell in which Christ-rejecting sinners will experience the absence of God covenantally – as well as his presence in his wrath – for eternity (or, at least, the denial of the belief that anyone will actually be there);
• the possibility of turning the gospel of Jesus Christ into another incarnation of the Social Gospel;
• and the affirmation that salvation comes only through Christ – while concurrently remaining unclear as to whether one needs to confess with his mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in his heart that God raised him from the dead in order to be saved.

I admit that these concerns, however, could be applied to more segments of Christianity than simply to some within the emerging church movement.

Trevin Wax: How is the atonement treated by different Emerging Church authors? I understand there’s a wide variety of authors out there. Are there any accurate generalizations or does the diversity keep one from making pronouncements about the movement as a whole?

Robbie Sagers: When it comes to the atonement of Christ, what it seems that some in the emerging church movement have in common – to employ perhaps another cliche – is not so much what they are for, but rather what they are against.

The view of the atonement as the penalty-paying, blood-spilling, wrath-of-God bearing, substitutionary death of Christ on the cross on behalf of sinners seems not only reprehensible but also incomprehensible to some emerging church adherents.

• McLaren, through one of his fictional characters, suggests that such a view of the atonement “sounds like divine child abuse.”
• Spencer Burke and Barry Taylor believe that penal substitution “can reinforce a caricature of a God who is angry, bloodthirsty, and judgmental.”
• Doug Pagitt calls penal substitution the “judicial” view of the atonement, exclaiming in response: “Yikes!”

So while they may put any number of things in the place of penal substitionary atonement, some within the emerging church do want to make clear: when they talk about the atonement, they don’t mean that!

Trevin Wax: What will the long-range impact of the Emerging Church be on evangelicalism?

Robbie Sagers: That’s a very good question, and I think that only time will tell what – if any – lasting impact the emerging church movement will have on evangelicalism.

Part of that uncertainty is due to the somewhat shifting nature of evangelicalism itself; after all, what is an evangelical? (A question for another day, perhaps!)

Regardless, these last months certainly do seem to have indicated the demise of the emerging church movement, at least in terms of comparing it to the furor surrounding the movement in recent years. After all, fewer books are being published by self-identified emerging church adherents, less conferences planned, Emergent Village has been disbanded, and some of the movement’s key leaders are now deeply entrenched not primarily in the church per se but rather in national politics–or, at least in one case, running for political office themselves.

I can tell you what I hope the long-range impact of evangelicalism will be. My hope is that conservative evangelicals, after having endured from some segments of the emerging church movement a challenge to doctrinal orthodoxy and orthopraxy, will avoid the temptation to a more-doctrinal-than-thou mentality that can be destructive to the soul. False teaching should be pointed out, yes, and corrected when possible. And there certainly is a place, biblically speaking, for sharp language in pointing out wolves among sheep. But such words should be spoken not with triumphalism, but rather with sobriety, in love.

Instead, I hope that evangelicals will discern humbly, through the lens of the Scriptures, those weak spots that led to some emerging church adherents’ exploitations of certain aspects of evangelicalism in the first place.

If evangelical Christians are able to hear the good and right critiques of their faith and practice coming from some leaders of the emerging church movement, and then adjust their life and doctrine accordingly, such would certainly be honoring to Christ. If that were to be the case then evangelicals may, in some sense, even find themselves praising God for the emerging church.

I confess a sense of weariness when it comes to speaking of the Emerging Church movement.

Back in 2008, I wrote about how the Emerging Church had begun to “recede.” Shortly thereafter, some key participants in the conversation began abandoning the title altogether.

Today, much of the debate centers on correctly identifying “Emerging” as a diverse movement that includes some who are more traditionally evangelical and others who are not.

Regardless of the current state of the debate, evangelicals should at least ask this question: What insights can we glean from the Emerging Church conversation? Such a question presumes that there are both positive and negative aspects of the movement. It takes little thought to condemn the movement outright or to embrace it wholeheartedly. What is needed is a careful engagement of the Emerging conversation so that Christians can distinguish between the wheat and chaff. 

The new book, Evangelicals Engaging Emergent: A Discussion of the Emergent Church Movement (2009, Broadman and Holman) features a collection of essays from notable authors and scholars like Ed Stetzer, Norman Geisler, Darrell Bock, and Mark DeVine. The contributors to this book seek to examine the Emerging Church fairly and then weigh the positives and negatives of the movement in light of Scripture.

Mark DeVine starts off by differentiating between the two streams of the Emerging Church – the more traditional evangelical stream and the more liberal stream. DeVine focuses on defining the Emerging Church by the questions and criticisms of its proponents, not their doctrinal commitments.

DeVine believes that D.A. Carson’s influential critique of Emerging was helpful in its assessment of Brian McLaren’s epistemology. Yet in the long run, by treating McLaren as the main spokesperson for Emerging, Carson’s book caused a good deal of confusion and consternation among those on the more evangelical wing of the spectrum who did not want to be lumped together with McLaren. So DeVine broadens his engagement of Emerging by taking into account the other voices.

My only concern with DeVine’s definition is that, while definitely an improvement over Carson’s, it suffers from the opposite problem. It is almost too broad to be helpful. I am not sure in what way Tim Keller, Mark Chandler, and Mark Driscoll can be considered “Emerging.” Would these men not be voices within the Reformed Resurgence?

DeVine’s contribution could have been strengthened had he illuminated the fact that the young Reformed movement seems to be the flip side to Emerging, in that many of the people he mentions are asking the very questions being raised in the Emerging Church and yet offer different answers.

Ed Stetzer contributes a helpful chapter that looks at Emergent from a missiological perspective. He follows Tony Jones’ terminology in describing the Emerging Church. He divides the movement into three categories  - Relevants, Revisionists, Reconstructionists – and insists that each group be dealt with on its own terms.

Norm Geisler writes about a postmodern view of Scripture. There is little engagement of the Emerging Church here. It would have been helpful had Geisler shown why some of these questions about Scriptural authority are being raised in the first place. Instead, the chapter serves as simply a rebuttal of the views of Stan Grenz and Brian McLaren.

I enjoyed R. Scott Smith’s work on the importance of truth. Smith understands the objections to evangelicalism, and he actually does business with Emergent criticisms. He admits that evangelicals can demonstrate a tendency toward Christian rationalism. We have too often used truth as a weapon instead of expressing it with grace and love. Smith’s chapter is helpful because he remains robustly orthodox, and yet believes this discussion can provide us with something of value. 

Darrell Bock looks at the Christology in the Emerging Church and excels at providing a fair analysis. Recognizing that Christians need to think through Emerging criticisms, Bock contends:

“My point would not be to pit the conventional and emerging story against one another as McLaren is prone to do but to consider how these features combine to do a better job of filling out the full scope of what the biblical call to experience the gospel means.” (183)

My friend, Robbie Sagers, has a terrific chapter on the Emerging views of the atonement and conversion. He engages different authors on their own terms, advocating caution in some areas and acceptance in others.

John Hammett looks at the ecclesiology of the movement and makes a strong case for evangelism: 

“A mission that stops short of ultimately bringing people to the cross to receive forgiveness and eternal life is not the mission to which Christ calls His church.” (237)

Hammett also poses an important question for those in the Emerging camp:

“If we guide our practice of worship solely by the principle of engaging culture, could we not be in danger of creating another set of consumers, with the only difference being that they are postmodern consumers rather than modern?” (241)

Danny Akin offers an insightful chapter about making ethical choices. The issue he focuses on is alcohol. Overall, it seems a bit out of place in a book of this nature, which is more theology/philosophy-driven. 

Chuck Lawless and Jim Shaddix assess the Emerging views of evangelism, advocating some of the positive aspects of the movement while critiquing others in light of Scripture.

Overall, I heartily recommend Evangelicals Engaging Emergent for being an evangelical contribution to the conversation that actually lives up to its title. The essays (for the most part) engage the Emerging Church thoughtfully and biblically.

written by Trevin Wax  © 2009 Kingdom People blog

David Wells

Carl Raschke

This week, I have summarized two evangelical approaches to the arrival of the postmodern era: Carl Raschke’s challenge for evangelicals to embrace postmodernism and David Well’s challenge to resist it.

It is difficult to contrast the visions of David Wells and Carl Raschke because these two books are written for different purposes. Wells’ book puts forth a robust Christology that he hopes will sustain the evangelical church during the postmodern era. Raschke seeks to provide a philosophical justification for evangelicals to embrace several aspects of postmodern thought.

Despite the different purposes of these books, one can still discern several points of agreement and disagreement. Furthermore, one can find strengths and weaknesses in both views, along with some valuable insights that lead to practical implications for ministry in a postmodern world.

A Few Points of Agreement

We begin with points of agreement. Both Wells and Raschke see the Reformation of the sixteenth century as a high point in the development of theology. Both authors showcase a deep devotion to the Reformation, even if the aspects they admire are somewhat different.

Wells concentrates on the Protestant doctrine of justification by faith alone as a way to counter the idea that salvation can be found within the human soul. Raschke focuses on Luther’s theology of the cross as a way of summoning us back to faith alone, instead of faith in our human reason.

The authors also agree that postmodernism rightly critiques modernism at many points. Wells applauds the introduction of certain postmodern sensibilities into philosophy and theology, a development that tempers the unfettered optimism of unrestrained rationalism.

Raschke goes further than Wells in his appreciation for postmodernism’s critique of modernist thought. But both authors see at least some good in the postmodern turn, even if ultimately, they disagree on how much good is represented therein.

Disagreement #1: Postmodern Promise versus Postmodern Peril

Wells and Raschke disagree in their assessments of postmodernism. Raschke believes that the postmodern turn holds out great promise for Christianity and therefore postmodernism should be embraced. Wells believes postmodernism to be simply another manifestation of modernism and therefore should be confronted. In fact, Wells goes so far to say that “confrontation is always at the heart of the relation between Christ and culture because that relation is one of light in its relation to darkness…”

I agree with Wells that postmodernism is ultimately as faithless as modernism, even if the new philosophy offers us a few areas of opportunity. But I do not share Wells’ pessimism concerning the relationship between Christ and culture. It would help if Wells would define what he means by “culture.” If our “culture” is becoming increasingly postmodern, it would be more prudent to say that we should stand in opposition to those aspects of postmodern culture that necessitate confrontation.

Despite his somewhat ambiguous view of “culture” that needs to be confronted, Wells is correct to show how postmodernism is linked to religious pluralism in our society. Raschke devotes too little attention to the philosophical pluralism that has attached itself to postmodernism’s rejection of metanarratives. A better way forward would be to recognize the strengths of the postmodern critique of modernism while forcefully rejecting the weaknesses.

Disagreement #2: Which Reformation Principles Do We Apply?

As has been mentioned above, Raschke and Wells appeal to the Reformation to make their case. But these authors apply Reformation principles in different ways.

Wells directs us back to historic Protestant doctrines, church confessions and traditional practices. Raschke points us toward Pentecostalism, where we discover a more experiential faith that emphasizes grace and mystery and the limitations of our own reason.

If taken to extremes, both of these prescriptions could be unhelpful. Much of what passes as “postmodern ministry” today is more stylistic than substantive, as even Raschke concurs. But I have yet to see strong, evangelistic churches that have embraced postmodernism as an orienting philosophy.

At the same time, Wells’ prescription to return to historic Protestantism could also lead to weaker churches if Protestant doctrine is emphasized to the exclusion of experience. It is easy to swing the pendulum to one side in reaction to the other (be it experience-based Pentecostalism or confession-based Protestantism). Both of these aspects belong together.

I agree with Wells that the temptation today is decidedly in favor of personal experience than submission to an outside authority (such as the Scriptures or the traditions of the Church). Therefore, Raschke’s suggestions are like prescribing sugar candy as a cure for diabetes. Our society has already moved in a very experiential direction. The Church must resist this development, not embrace it.

Disagreement #3: Scripture as Propositional or Personal

Another area of disagreement between Wells and Raschke concerns the nature of Scripture. Raschke views the Word of God as vocative, not propositional. Wells does not specifically address this subject in his book, but I have little doubt that he would settle on the propositional side (with a nod to the metanarrative expressed by the Scriptures).

Raschke sets up a false dichotomy when he demeans propositional truth in favor of a purely relational approach. Questions regarding the nature of Scripture and the doctrine of inerrancy are not irrelevant or modernist. These questions go to the very heart of our confidence in the Scriptures.

Raschke is right to point out that evangelicals have failed to take Scriptural commands seriously at times. But every generation of Christians ultimately fails to obey the “vocative” of the Word of God at some points. To write as if the authority of Scripture depends upon God’s use of it in our personal lives rather than in the Scriptures itself is to set up a false choice. Scripture is authoritative both because of what it is and because of what it does.

The inerrancy debate helps us to have confidence in the truth of Scripture as it is, so that we then are able to submit to its commands. Inerrancy does not claim that some sort of “confessional insurance” is necessary before we can trust God. Inerrancy merely reinforces the beautiful truth that God, when he speaks, always tells the truth.

It is unhelpful to say that Scripture does not give us facts about God, but God himself. The truth is that Scripture gives us both.

I recognize that traditional evangelicalism has erred in overemphasizing the propositional nature of Scripture to the exclusion of its narrative structure and overarching Story. But surely the answer is not to abandon the nature of propositional truth completely, but to use the postmodern critique as a way to help us see the propositional and relational natures of truth as complementary, not in competition.

Concluding Thoughts

Every generation of Christians faces new challenges to the Christian faith. In the work of David Wells and Carl Raschke, we can see some of the areas in which evangelicals agree and disagree as to how best to respond to the rise of postmodernism.

The best way forward is to incorporate some of the valuable insights of postmodern thinking without sacrificing the historic, propositional truth claims of Christianity throughout the centuries. Discerning which aspects of postmodernism should be embraced and which aspects should be resisted is no easy task. But this ongoing task is of paramount importance if we are to faithfully proclaim the gospel in our contemporary world.

written by Trevin Wax  © 2009 Kingdom People blog

Yesterday, I summarized The Next Reformation, a book by Carl Raschke that challenges evangelicals to embrace postmodernism as a way of returning to the principles of the Reformation. Today, I am summarizing  Above All Earthly Pow’rs, a book by David Wells that challenges evangelicals to resist postmodernism as a way of returning to Reformation principles. 

Assessing the Landscape

David Wells’ Above All Earthly Pow’rs seeks to provide a robust Christology for our postmodern world. Wells acknowledges two motifs that are transforming our culture: the postmodern ethos and religious pluralism.

In the first section of his book, Wells seeks to provide an accurate description of our modern life and to show how these recent cultural movements affect us internally. Of course, a proper understanding of today’s world must take into account the philosophies inherited from the Enlightenment – philosophies centered on freedom from the past, from God, and from external authority.

The development of society has paralleled the principles of the Enlightenment. Consumerism teaches us that consuming is essential to the nurture of self. Therefore, our purchases are often an attempt to buy reality, to find individuality in our style. We have traded the idea of unchanging virtues for the terminology of “values,” which are not normative for all people.

Postmodernism represents a rebellion against the ideology of the Enlightenment. Aspects of this rebellion deserve to be celebrated.

But Wells differs from those who cheer the new postmodern turn in that he does not see a “clean breach with the modern world.” Instead, he believes postmodernism merely reflects a different aspect of modern culture. The new philosophy is not faith triumphing over unbelief, but “unbelief taking revenge upon unbelief.”

The Death of Meaning

Postmodernism is notoriously difficult to define, which leads Wells to point to the common denominator he sees in all postmodern outlooks: meaning has died.

In the wake of the Enlightenment’s failed promises and stifled progress, postmodernism questions rationalism’s basic assumptions. But this questioning leads to a skeptical view of human reason, which in turn leads to further fragmentation and further departure from the idea of a metanarrative (a totalizing worldview).

Wells believes that postmodernism’s critique of modernism goes too far. He implicitly upholds the correspondence theory of truth, saying, “When we speak of truth, we are asking whether it is possible to have an understanding of reality which corresponds to what is there.”

Wells recognizes that humans have certain biases and presuppositions. He understands that rationalism cannot build a tower that allows us to see the world in its fullness.

But in taking away any vantage point from which to judge between truth and error, postmodernism leaves us without a worldview, without truth, and without purpose.

An Age of Pluralism

New social developments now offer plausibility to the rise of religious pluralism. A new wave of immigration in the United States has made America the most religiously diverse nation in the world.

Immigration has led to a downplaying of religious identity. People see religion as institutional and organizational. Many prefer a generic “spirituality” that can be discovered and practiced outside the church. The appeal of the new spirituality is in the way it separates the private world from the public world, offering an experiential grounding of belief that does not have to correspond with outside reality.

Christ Against the Gnostics

Wells sees the postmodern spiritual yearning as a seeking after consciousness, an inward turning for authenticity. Reaching back to the patristic period, Wells compares this new movement to ancient Gnosticism.

The Gnostic worldview contradicted the Christian faith. It required confrontation, not adaptation. Wells finds this confrontation in historic Protestant theology that portrays God finding the sinner, not the sinner looking inward to find God within himself.

Wells calls upon Christians to respond to this new type of Gnosticism by insisting upon the historic understanding of human sinfulness. This understanding views human beings as fragmented and flawed, not morally innocent.

Furthermore, Wells reminds us that Christianity concerns public truth, not private spirituality. And despite the myriad of spiritualities on the market today, only Christianity provides the personal relationship for which postmodern people yearn. Only Christianity gives us a divine summons from a personal God.

In short, Christ is the answer to our empty spirituality, the answer to our meaningless existence, and the answer to our sense of being “de-centered.”

Unfortunately, evangelicals are busy accommodating the postmodern mindset instead of confronting it. Evangelicals have deemphasized doctrine and religious identity and instead promoted values and principles for bettering life here and now. The church has been transformed into a place where the gospel can be marketed as a product to consumers.

Wells urges evangelicals to recapture the voice of “proclamation” of divine truth and not succumb to the consumerist temptation of secular society.

written by Trevin Wax. copyright © 2009 Kingdom People Blog.