Christian Hell?

Published on by D. G. Hart32 Comments

Mark Horne apparently thinks he has landed a damaging jab against 2k by ridiculing Jason Stellman’s point about the discontinuity between culture here and the new heavens and new earth – a point raised in Keith Mathison’s review of David VanDrunen’s new book, Living in God’s Two Kingdoms. Stellman wrote:

If my marriage to my wife will not survive into the age to come, then why would I think her wedding ring will? Sure, it’s a nice ring and very well-made, but it’s hardly a higher example of human productivity than our marriage is.

For what it’s worth, the absence of marriage in the new heavens and new earth would certainly seem to unravel arguments that look at redemption as the restoration of creation. If marriage existed as part of the created order and then vanishes in the glorified order, something is going on that seems to escape the average neo-Calvinist’s redemptive-historical horizon.

But Horne does not consider Stellman’s point for very long and rushes instead to his own – perhaps listening to too much Focus on the Family – about the difference that Christianity makes for marriages and child rearing. He writes:

If we use this principle for a generalized defense of R2K, then we must state that there are no such things as Christian marriages or Christian families. Jesus does not want us wasting our time talking about how husbands and wives should behave or raising their children according to God’s word. This is all a compromise of the Gospel and a confusion of law and grace. We should leave family issues to secular family counselors just as we should leave the economy to Bernanke.

(By the way, humans rear children; they raise cows. And I’ll take my chances with Bernake over Gary North running the economy.)

First, marriage is a legal status determined by the state. As such, Christian marriages do not exist unless we want to turn matrimony into a sacrament. But when you refuse the categories of holy, common, and profane, how else to make marriage meaningful except to baptize it?

Second, since marriage as an institution is not Christian but a creation ordinance that is open to all human beings (except for gay ones – lest anti-2k hysteria surface), then the issue is whether a Christian’s vocation is married or single. Christianity has to do with persons, not with institutions (other than the church). Christians who are married have clear instruction from Scripture about how they should conduct themselves as spouse or parent or both. But that does not mean that the institution of marriage (or the church for that matter) will survive in the new heavens and new earth. I mean, the Bible gives some instruction about the Lord’s Supper but does that mean we’ll still be observing that meal in remembrance of the Lord whom we see with our resurrected eyes?

Horne concludes with this whopper – the antithesis doesn’t come any more antithetical:

It is one or the other. Either you affirm that Jesus is “ruler of the kings of the earth” or you deny that it is “the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named.”

Huh? Since when does denial of Jesus as ruler of the earth unseat him as King of Kings and Lord of Lords? This is where the literal mindedness of 2k’s critics is most revealing. They do not seem to have any conception for Christ ruling all things in different ways (you know, some as redeemer and others as creator and redeemer). Which means in the case of marriage that Christ rules all marriages, whether entered by believers or unbelievers. And those people who deny Christ as Lord are no less married than those who confess his name. To implicitly question the legitimacy of unbelievers’ marriages is to throw all conventions that support a measure of good social order to the wind. The implication of Horne’s antithesis is – if you don’t have Christ in your heart, be who you really are, a hell raiser. Since I’ve had hell raisers as neighbors, I much prefer those unbelievers who follow the order of creation even if they can’t identify the creator in a multiple choice test.

And speaking of hell, I wonder if it has ever occurred to 2k critics like Mark Horne that Christ is Lord of both Heaven and Hell, and that his rule in those places is markedly different. If Christ is indeed Lord of the cursed and the blessed, then it may be possible to imagine that Christ’s rule in a Christian home will be different from his sovereignty within a secular family. And if this is the case, then Christians need neither force non-believers to live like Christians nor inaugurate the eschaton by having the state start the judgments that Christ will execute when he returns. In other words, if Christians will simply follow what their Lord has told them to do – attend the means of grace, live quiet and peaceful lives, and glorify God and love neighbors in their work – Christ, who is Lord, will take care of the rest.

Uncanny how Christ does that without our ruling in his name.

Happy Hodgemas

Published on by D. G. Hart17 Comments

I understand that for those observers of all holidays, but holy and secular, persevering a whole week between Christmas and New Year’s Day without a party can be an ordeal. I also know that for those vinegary Presbyterians who don’t observe the nativity of Christ in late December, non-observance can look downright acidic. The remedy for the neo- and paleo-sanctifiers of days is the birthday of Charles Hodge, who came into this world in that little burgh of Philadelphia on December 28, 1797. The great appeal of Hodge’s nativity is that for the strict Reformed it functions as a festive day close to Christmas and thus provides an outlet for all of that cooking, spirituous refreshment, and commercial enterprise bubbling up at years end in this greatest nation on God’s green earth. And for the not-so-strict neo-Presbyterians, Hodge’s birthday functions, midway between Christmas and New Year, as a way to turn the last week of the year into one long party.

Hodge’s birth has added significance because, as I am learning from Andrew Hoffecker’s fine biography of the Princeton theologian (forthcoming in the American Reformed Biographies), Hodge himself was not an observer of December 25th, like most low-church Protestants prior to the commercial success of Christmas, Mother’s Day, and Easter during the Victorian era. Hoffecker observes that when Hodge was preserving his thoughts and whereabouts during a period of supply preaching in the early 1820s he never mentioned Christmas.

Further evidence of Hodge’s silence on the Roman Catholic holiday comes from a letter he wrote on December 25, 1825 to his mother. In addition to demonstrating Hodge’s non-observance of Christmas, the letter has the Old Life advantage of making a plug for the two-kingdom that provides a proper understanding of days holy and common during a pilgrim’s life in this world. Here is the letter (which can be found in The Life of Charles Hodge, p. 97):

My Dear Mother:

Your dear little Mary Elizabeth was baptized this afternoon in the Oratory by Dr. Alexander. Notwithstanding the rain, the place of service was so near we found it easy to take our dear little treasure out to be consecrated to God in this delightful ordinance. I never appreciated so highly before the privilege of thus giving to God what is dearest to us on earth. We feel now as though she were not our own, but something lent to be cultivated and prepared through our agency for heaven. To be instrumental in thus training up one of the children of the Lord to be presented before Him without spot or blemish, is so delightful and honorable a task, that we cannot help hoping that He who has made the prospect of the duty so pleasant, will aid us in its performance. There is, too, so much ground to hope that our efforts will not be in vain that we can address ourselves to the duty with all possible cheerfulness. The application of the pure element of water is not only designed to represent the purifying influence of the Spirit upon the heart, but it seems to be the appointed pledge on the part of God, that if we sincerely devote our children to Him, and faithfully endeavor to bring them up for Him, He will bestow upon them the blessings signified by the ordinance, and contained in that gracious covenant to which it is attached. Hence the ordinance is represented as so important in the Scriptures. He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved. It certainly never was designed to be an empty form. And as it imposes the most solemn obligations, so it contains abundant encouragement to fulfil them. Our dear little children we have promised to educate for heaven, and as God shall enable us, we mean to perform our vows. To this every thing must be made secondary. To gain this world is not what we have promised to aim at. It must therefore never be the direct and primary object of pursuit. I have lately, in reading Bonaparte’s Russian Campaign, and the Life of Sheridan, been very much struck with the truth of the remark how little they really enjoy the world to whom the world is every thing. Bonaparte says the happiest part of his life was when he was a poor lieutenant. And Sheridan said the happiest part of his life was the short time he spent in a cottage. There is nothing lost, therefore, even as regards the present world, by seeking first the kingdom of God; that is, by making it the primary object of pursuit, seeing that godliness has the promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come. We feel, therefore, determined, if God shall render us faithful to our purposes, to bring up your dear little grandchildren, as we are sure you would have us do, with the one object supremely in view of fitting them for heaven. I have great confidence in the effect of religious truth upon the infant mind. Children are so susceptible, their associations are so strong and lasting, that it does not seem strange that the effect of early education should so frequently be felt through life. And if we add to this God’s peculiar promises to those who endeavor to bring up a child in the way in which he should go, we shall see that there is abundant reason to hope that exertions properly directed will be crowned with success.

Your affectionate son,
C. H.

So if you go out tonight, hoist one in honor of Charles Hodge and his paleo-Presbyterian piety.

Act Two, Scene Three: How Soon They Forget

Published on by D. G. Hart4 Comments

In his serialized review of VanDrunen’s Natural Law and the Two Kingdoms, Nelson Kloosterman finishes his inspection of the chapter on Calvin with the line, “Remember the Puritans.”

This is a curious appeal because Kloosterman’s memory may not be as good as his review of VanDrunen is long. His major objection to 2k appears to be that its advocates do not insist that Scripture is necessary for prescribing the duties of the civil magistrate. To VanDrunen’s point that Calvin did not believe civil government should be ruled solely by Scripture, Kloosterman finds an opening to insist that the Bible does inform at least part of the magistrates duties.

On the one hand, Kloosterman asks:

. . . if God’s natural law, embodied in OT Mosaic law, prohibits public blasphemy, and if this natural law ought to underlie civil enactments, then why should Dr. VanDrunen so vigorously oppose appeals to God’s requirements amid public policy discussions about moral issues covered by the Decalogue?

That would seem to mean that the civil magistrate is bound to uphold both tables of the law since Kloosterman is not only concerned about violations of the seventh commandment in the instance of gay marriage but also about instances of blasphemy covered in the third commandment.

Kloosterman also goes on to quote, as he is wont to do, from the Canons of Dort which give him the green light to insist that special revelation must be the lens through which to read general revelation (though he never seems to consider that this reading of Dort would prohibit all non-Christians from using natural law, whether as fathers or magistrates, since without regeneration they cannot properly interpret natural law). This is what Dort says:

There is, to be sure, a certain light of nature remaining in man after the fall, by virtue of which he retains some notions about God, natural things, and the difference between what is moral and immoral, and demonstrates a certain eagerness for virtue and for good outward behavior. But this light of nature is far from enabling man to come to a saving knowledge of God and conversion to him—so far, in fact, that man does not use it rightly even in matters of nature and society. Instead, in various ways he completely distorts this light, whatever its precise character, and suppresses it in unrighteousness. In doing so he renders himself without excuse before God” (III/IV.4, italics added).

Since Kloosterman italicizes those portions which correctly portray the limitations of natural man using natural law, he would seem to be saying that without Scripture, no one can interpret general revelation correctly. In fact, he said this in his interviews on Christ and culture at Reformed Forum.

But on the other hand comes Kloosterman’s selective memory, perhaps a function of having to venture beyond Queen Wilhelmina’s mints and wooden shoes. To VanDrunen’s point that Calvin did not use the Bible solely for civil matters, Kloosterman writes:

“Calvin did not believe,” we are told, “that the civil kingdom can be governed solely or primarily by the teaching of Scripture.” But who does believe that? Some of us insist that the civil kingdom (public society) should be governed in part by the teaching of Scripture, in connection, say, with issues like homosexual marriage and abortion, and even debasing monetary currency. But who among us has ever claimed that “the civil kingdom can be governed solely or primarily by the teaching of Scripture”?

Actually, as already mentioned, Kloosterman did claim that the Bible is the basis for civil government and its laws (and his invocation of Dort is further testimony to this point; how else to read the deficiency of natural revelation apart from the lens of Scripture?). But the curious aspect of Kloosterman’s concession that the Bible does not govern all of public life comes when he mentions those areas where the Bible should govern the civil magistrate – gay marriage and abortion.

What about blasphemy, mentioned in the previous quotation? And what about both tables of the law? Does the magistrate follow only the second table but get a pass on the first? Does this mean that the civil polity should tolerate blasphemy and idolatry, but not murder and stealing? If so, then how does this view follow biblical teaching or even show the usefulness of the Decalogue in civil government? Is Kloosterman really a closet advocate of 2k?

If he remembers the Puritans, he is. Because those English Protestants who fled the old country to establish a city on Beacon Hill were not at all reluctant to let the whole Decalogue (and even parts of the Pentateuch) inform their civil laws. To assist Dr. K’s memory, he might want to consider the following (only the first ten out of fifteen capital offenses) from The Laws and Liberties of Massachusetts (1647):

1. If any man after legal conviction shall have or worship any other God, but the lord god: he shall be put to death. Exod. 22. 20. Deut. 13.6. & 10. Deut. 17. 2. 6.

2. If any man or woman be a witch, that is, hath or consulteth with a familiar spirit, they shall be put to death. Exod. 22. 18. Levit. 20. 27. Deut. 18. 10. 11.

3. If any person within this Jurisdiction whether Christian or Pagan shall wittingly and willingly presume to blaspheme the holy Name of God, Father, Son or Holy-Ghost, with direct, expresse, presumptuous, or highhanded blasphemy, either by wilfull or obstinate denying the true God, or his Creation, or Government of the world: or shall curse God in like manner, or reproach the holy religion of God as if it were but a politick device to keep ignorant men in awe; or shal utter any other kinde of Blasphemy of the like nature & degree they shall be put to death. Levit. 24. 15. 16.

4. If any person shall commit any wilfull murther, which is Man slaughter, committed upon premeditate malice, hatred, or crueltie not in a mans necessary and just defence, nor by meer casualty against his will, he shall be put to death. Exod. 21. 12. 13. Numb. 35. 31.

5. If any person slayeth another suddenly in his anger, or cruelty of passion, he shall be put to death. Levit. 24. 17. Numb. 35. 20. 21.

6. If any person shall slay another through guile, either by poysoning, or other such devilish practice, he shall be put to death. Exod. 21. 14.

7. If any man or woman shall lye with any beast, or bruit creature, by carnall copulation; they shall surely be put to death: and the beast shall be slain, & buried, and not eaten. Lev. 20. 15. 16.

8. If any man lyeth with man-kinde as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed abomination, they both shal surely be put to death: unles the one partie were forced (or be under fourteen years of age in which case he shall be seveerly punished) Levit. 20. 13.

9. If any person commit adulterie with a married or espoused wife; the Adulterer & Adulteresse shall surely be put to death. Lev. 20. 19. & 18. 20 Deu. 22. 23. 27.

10. If any man stealeth a man, or Man-kinde, he shall surely be put to death Exodus 21. 16.

I wonder if this is the system of law that Dr. K. would have the readers of Christian Renewal remember. Since he seems to shy away from putting people to death for adultery, Kloosterman would appear to be much closer to VanDrunen than he is either to Calvin or the Puritans whose notions of a Christian society perhaps only contemporary theonomists have the stomach to swallow.

In which case, what seems to motivate Dr. K.’s objections to 2k is pining for the sort of American society when liberal Protestants were running things and setting the standards for public life. Ramesh Ponnuru gave a useful description of the virtues of that wonderful time in American life in his essay, “Secularism and Its Discontents” (National Review, Dec. 2004) He wonders what would happen if religious conservatives actually achieved legislative success in the U.S. Their wish-list includes prohibiting abortion, restricting pornography, restraining experimentation on human embryos, and banning gay marriage. Some might like to have more prayer in public schools, and those who don’t home school would prefer that the public school teachers giving tips on condoms. But Ponnuru thinks this is hardly a return to John Winthrop’s Boston or John Calvin’s Geneva:

My point . . . is to note that introducing nearly every one of these policies – and all of the most conservative ones – would merely turn the clock back to the late 1950s. That may be a very bad idea, but the America of the 1950s was not a theocracy.

Likewise, Kloosterman’s critique of 2k is hardly a return to Massachusetts of 1647, Amsterdam of 1595, or to Zurich of 1550. If he could remember the Puritans, he might actually see how much in common he has with his Dutch-American nemesis, the lovely, the talented, David VanDrunen.

Take, Eat, This Is My Baby Given for You

Published on by D. G. Hart8 Comments

For low church Protestants who partake of the Lord’s Supper monthly, usually the first Sunday of the month, the juxtaposition of remembering both the baby Jesus’ fleshy form and the adult Jesus’ broken body and flowing blood rarely occurs. We can have our Lord’s Supper at the beginning of December and hear sermons on the birth of Jesus at the end of the same month, never having the links between the baby fat of the nativity scene and the wounded body of the crucifixion pressed upon our consideration of the incarnation in all of is wonder and agony.

But a recent Lord’s Supper evening service brought the realities of Christ’s birth and death into closer proximity and was a poignant reminder of the continuity between the body and blood of the babe whom the shepherds adored and spiritual eating of that same flesh and blood in the sacrament. Since the service, as a prelude to Christmas without being explicitly an Advent observance – low churchers don’t do Advent unless it becomes a time to affirm the family (as in families lighting the Advent wreath candles) – included several hymns related to Christ’s nativity, the reminder of the fleshy character of the incarnation was right there next to a call to discern Christ’s body in the Supper.

Consider the following Christmas (or Advent – I can’t keep them straight) hymn lines:

All praise to thee, Eternal Lord, Clothed in a garb of flesh and blood (first line of Luther’s 1524 hymn)

To human view displayed, All meanly wrapped in swathing bands (“While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks”)

Born of Mary ever blest, God in flesh is manifest (“Savior of the Nations Come”)

Veiled in flesh the godhead see, Hail the incarnate deity (“Hark, the Herald Angels Sing”)

Word of the Father, Late in flesh appearing (“O Come, All Ye Faithful”)

All this mention of the flesh of Christ in the manger right before the observance of the Lord’s Supper brings the body of the baby into much closer proximity with the body and blood of Christ’s sacrifice than I had ever before contemplated. To use the language of the Heidelberg Catechism, the Christ who “took upon him the very nature of man, of the flesh and blood of the virgin Mary” (A 35), is the same Jesus whose “crucified body and shed blood are the true meat and drink, whereby our souls are fed to eternal life.” In fact, in the bread and wine we really become “partakers of his true body and blood by the operation of the Holy Ghost as we receive by the mouths of our bodies these holy signs in remembrance of him” (A 79).

Maybe plenty of low church Protestants made this connection long before I did. And I suspect that many believers who refuse the sentimentality that haunts nativity scenes and Advent candles have long known that the baby we adore as a warm up to unwrapping gifts and devouring fresh ham was born precisely to do the work of the one and only high priest who would offer up his own body to take away the sins of the world. In which case, for those who take the atonement seriously, the joy of Jesus’ birth should always be calibrated according to the rest of Christ’s humiliation which began with his taking human flesh and included graphically the torture of his body on the way to descending into hell.

But I do wonder if Christians observed the Lord’s Supper more frequently, or at least during Christmas pageants and concerts, they would also be struck that, in the words of the Belgic Confession, the sacraments we hold “in our hands and eat and drink it in our mouths,” which sustain our spiritual life and are “the true body and true blood of Christ”(Art. 35), are the same flesh and blood celebrated in the form of an innocent baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes, to prevent the chill of Bethlehem’s frigid winter. (Kidding, of course about Bethlehem’s weather; today the city of Jesus’ birth will experience a low temperature of 50 degrees.)

Note to readers rightly concerned about images of Jesus: the photo included with this post is intended as a generic portrayal of babies and their fleshy existence.

Two-Kingdom Tuesday: Making Luther Safe for the Baylys

Published on by D. G. Hart1 Comment

One of the advantages of the holiday season is the excuse it gives for reading Protestants who follow the church calendar – in this case, Martin Luther. The Martin Luther Christmas Book is a wonderfully good read any time of the year, but since sermons, songs, and church events keep reminding us of the nativity passages in Scripture, curiosity should send us to older Protestant divines to compare their exposition to our Protestant ministers. This little book, based on Luther’s sermons from Luke, provides reminders of the original Protestant’s great sensitivity in reading Scripture. (Don’t let the title put you off even if it sounds like a promotion for the Dean Martin Little Book of Christmas Carols.)

An added bonus for culture warriors is the lessons that Luther drew from the example of Mary for contemporary Christian women. Keeping them bare-foot and pregnant may not be the best way of putting it. But if anti-feminazi Presbyterians would only spend time with real two-kingdom theology, rather than its mythological implications, they might recognize kindred spirits.

The following comes from “Visitation”:

We observe that [Mary] went by the hill country, not by the plain. The journey would take her all of three days. We do not know the precise destination, for although Zacharias was a priest, he was not under the necessity of residing in Jerusalem. He was a poor priest, and we are not to think of Elisabeth as in much more exalted station than Mary.

The Evangelist Luke advisedly inserted those words “with haste.” He meant that she did not stop every five paces to strike up a conversation, as do so many of our maids and matrons. He knew the ways of women and did not wish to give them any handle for justification from the example of Mary.

He meant to say that Mary was like a maid who sees and hears nothing save the commands of her mistress, or like a housewife who does not loiter here and there to chat. The mother of our Lord was no gossip. She went with haste. And that means, too, that she did not act like a pilgrim but circumspectly. The women, therefore, have no warrant for saying, “why should not we go hiking, seeing that Mary went over the hill country and she a virgin?” Yes, but Mary had the command of an angel and she went with haste. You have no command to do as you please. Mary was full of faith, love, and modesty. . . (p. 27)

If Justin Taylor Gives to the OPC’s Thank Offering, I’ll Contribute to the Gospel Coalition (maybe)

Published on by D. G. Hart53 Comments

Golfers know the adage that you drive for show and putt for dough. The translation for non-golfers is that 300-yard drives don’t matter if you three-putt the green on to which you’ve chipped because of your impressive – u-dah-man!! – drive. In fact, if you don’t sink your birdie putt (one under par for the golf challenged), you are not going to be much more than a duffer.

This adage would seem to apply to the Gospel Coalition, though it needs to be adjusted to this – join for show and withhold the dough. According to Justin Taylor, GC is in the midst of a year-end fund-raising effort in which supporters who contribute the most will receive ten free registrations for the GC annual conference, along with ten free nights at the conference hotel in Chicago. (Since I doubt W. C. Fields would have been much of a fan of GC, I wonder if his joke would be that second-prize is 20 free conference registrations and 20 free nights in the hotel – 30 if in Philadelphia.) And so that everyone can benefit from the effort, anyone who starts a campaign page at his or her blog or website will receive a copy of Tim Keller’s DVD curriculum, Gospel in Life.

To what purpose do contributions go? So far GC amounts primarily to a website/blog presence and a national annual conference. To accomplish this, the Coalition employs three full-time people. According to Taylor, “The Gospel Coalition (TGC) is not a church, but it does exist to serve and honor the Church. TGC is ultimately ‘a fellowship of evangelical churches deeply committed to renewing our faith in the gospel of Christ and to reforming our ministry practices to conform fully to the Scriptures.’” He adds that the Coalition is more than just a set of blogs or a conference sponsor but “ a place where ‘humble orthodoxy’ is modeled, thoughtful arguments are made, people are loved and honored, conversation is advanced, and the gospel is applied—all to the glory of God.”

Among the benefits of belonging to the Coalition is the Ordinary Pastors project. Since the link that Justin supplied for this endeavor is defective, either GC attracts no ordinary pastors or they need another staff member.

Another feature that caught my eye was GC’s directory of churches (which again has a defective link at Tayloy’s blog). This is a nifty device that shows where GC congregations can be found across the greatest nation on God’s green (and warming) earth. But the directory comes with this warning: “Disclaimer: The Gospel Coalition does not endorse all churches in the directory. We are not able to fully vet all churches.”

This is a remarkable concession and points to the relevance of applying the golfing adage about putting to GC. Apparently, churches will join GC but will not give. The advantage of this strategy is obvious – you get some free publicity and can draft off the celebrity of John Piper and Tim Keller, but you don’t have to find any money in your budget for membership dues. At the same time, why wouldn’t a coalition committed to the gospel be willing to vet anyone that joins its ranks?

So Taylor’s pitch for GC could be improved if the Coalition offered a better product. In fact, better products exist and they are called not parachurch organizations but churches. In my own case, the OPC can vouch in some way for all of the congregations that belong to its fellowship. Not only that, the OPC can vouch for all its church members who are in good standing. We also have a website with a church directory that allows people to find an OP congregation. We also have lots of publications that are widely available to anyone, whether they belong to the Gospel Coalition or to the Southern Baptist Convention or to Redeemer Presbyterian Church. And we have way more than three full-time employees – just look at our directory and see all the pastors, missionaries, and teachers. And we also have a relatively uniform product – all of our officers agree about infant baptism and follow the Westminster Confession on the Lord’s Supper. And don’t talk to me about the sovereignty of God. The OPC has the sovereignty of God coursing through its spiritual veins, from Van Til’s apologetics to its commitment to the ordinary work of proclaiming the gospel in the United States and foreign lands. For those interested in a conference, can anyone beat a visit with presbytery or an all-week’s paid trip to General Assembly?

By the way, the OPC is also having a year-end fund-drive, called our Thank Offering, which solicits offerings for the General Assembly’s programs and agencies.

If the OPC is a better philanthropic value than GC, why does Justin Taylor want his readers (including Orthodox Presbyterians like me) to give to the Coalition without mentioning better options like the OPC for spiritual investing? And a related question is why do parachurch organizations have no problem looking far and wide for contributors while churches don’t expect non-members to give to denominational or church causes? I wonder, for instance, what kind of budget Keller’s Redeemer church has allocated for the Coalition in this fiscal year? Or Piper’s Bethlehem Baptist? Shouldn’t a fund drive for GC start with GC members, especially those congregations that have more than others? Meanwhile, shouldn’t the Coalition be circumspect about raising funds from believers who should be giving to their own churches?

Of course, in that case, if church members gave to the local churches or denominations, then GC would have no budget. But since we have churches that need money, and churches that provide services superior to the Coalition, why does GC actually exist? I know such questions might seem mean spirited, further evidence of Machen’s Warrior Children’s instincts. But the parachurch folks only consider such questions impertinent because they have no sense of propriety. They have no idea that they are duplicating the work of the church and then taking energy and support from the very churches that they supposedly seek to serve.

Otherworldly Thursday: Calvin on the Spiritual Life

Published on by D. G. Hart16 Comments

As much as some critics may question my personal piety, I do daily attend to private worship and often make use of readings from the likes of the Reformers. (It grieves me to admit this since such public unction seems to be at odds with Christ’s own counsel to his followers in Matt 6: 5.) Just this morning I ran across a passage that I felt I should pass along, especially for those neo-Calvinist readers who do seem to be unaware of the difference between their own piety and the one that Calvin embodied and attempted to cultivate among the citizens and exiles in Geneva.

Here is Calvin’s comment and prayer from his lecture on Joel 2:28: And it shall come to pass afterward, that I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions.

Calvin writes:

We have explained why the Prophet began with earthly blessings. One may indeed think that this order is not regular; for Christ does not in vain remind us, that the kingdom of God ought to be first sought, and that other things shall be added in their place, (Matthew 6;) for food, and every thing that belongs to this frail life, are, as it were, additions to the spiritual life. But the Prophet designedly mentioned first the evidence of God’s favor in outward benefits; for we see how slow the perceptions of men are, and how slothful they are in seeking spiritual life. As, then, men rise to things above with so much difficulty, the Prophet makes use of the best helps; and we must indeed be dealt with as we usually deal with children. For as there is not so much discernment in them as to be influenced by reasons, we set before them what is suitable to their weak and simple comprehension; so the Prophet did; for he showed first that God would be kind to the Jews in food for the body, and having used this as a help, he then added, Afterwards I will pour my Spirit upon all flesh.

By these words the Prophet reminds us, that people act absurdly when they are satisfied with vanishing things, when they ask of God nothing more excellent than to be pampered like brute animals; for in what do the children of God differ from asses and dogs, except they aspire after spiritual life? The Prophet, then, after having set before them lower things, as though they were children, now brings before them a more solid doctrine, (for thus they were to be led,) and affords them a taste of the favor of God in its external signs. “Ascend, then, now,” he says, “to spiritual life: for the fountain is one and the same; though when earthly benefits occupy and engross your attention, ye no doubt pollute them. But God feeds you, not to fill and pamper you; for he would not have you to be like brute animals. Then know that your bodies are fed, and that God gives support to you, that ye may aspire after spiritual life; for he leads you to this as by the hand; be this then your object.” We now, then, understand why the Prophet did not at first speak of the spiritual grace of God; but he comes to it now. He began with temporal benefits, for it was needful that an untutored people should be thus led by degrees, that on account of their infirmity, sluggishness, and dullness, they might thus make better progress, until they understood that God would for this end be a Father to them.

Then Calvin prays:

Grant, Almighty God, that since we want so many aids while in this frail life, and as it is a shadowy life, we cannot pass a moment, except thou dost continually, and at all times, supply through thy bounty what is needful, — O grant, that we may so profit by thy so many benefits, that we may learn to raise our minds upwards, and ever aspire after celestial life, to which by thy gospel thou invites us so kindly and sweetly every day, that being gathered into thy celestial kingdom, we may enjoy that perfect felicity, which has been procured for us by the blood of thy Son, our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

I do wonder if neo-Cals ever thought about life on planet earth in this way (a radically biblical one?) then they might come around to a higher estimate of the visible church and a more sober regard for cultural endeavor.

Heidelblog Is No Longer Hibernating

Published on by D. G. Hart14 Comments

Anyone who thinks this is perverse may need to look in the mirror. Two-kingdom theology is remarkably simple. As Scott Clark explains, it’s all about priorities:

This inversion, this social precisionism and theological and ecclesiastical latitudinarianism, is precisely why it’s important to distinguish between the two spheres of the administration of God’s sovereignty. The social sphere is a common sphere, a sphere shared by believers and non-believers. It’s what used to be called “secular” before the word “secular” became a pejorative and the antithesis of “religious.” The proper antithesis of religious is pagan or atheist or something on that order. Properly, “secular” denotes “non-ecclesiastical.” It is still used this way in the UK but in the USA the connotation of “secular” as “opposed to God” has overwhelmed the older usage. Allow me to use it in the older sense of “non-ecclesiastical” to make a point. The common or the secular sphere is, in God’s sovereign providence, governed by general principles (laws) revealed by God in nature and in the human conscience. The Apostle Paul teaches us as much in Romans 1-2 and in Romans 13. The Apostle Peter teaches this throughout 1 Peter. Neither Peter nor Paul laid out an agenda for the civil magistrate (Caesar) because there was no need. They knew that Caesar already knew what to do: punish evil doers and protect the innocent.

The sacred sphere represented by the chief visible, institutional manifestation of the kingdom, the church, is not common. It is governed not by general principles revealed in nature. It is governed by God’s extensive revelation of his law and gospel in Holy Scripture. This is why the Apostles wrote at such length to the churches, not about the great civil problems of the first century, but about the great ecclesiastical problems of the 1st century, about getting the gospel right, about not confusing the law with the gospel, about church discipline, about who is eligible for special office in the church and the like. The Apostles were positively precisionist. They were not latitudinarian about these things.

Back by Popular Demand

Published on by D. G. Hart87 Comments

Okay, one person requested a return to this golden oldie, “What We Owe Presbyterians (or, Presbyterian Justice)” (Dec. 9, 2010):

Tim Keller’s new book, Generous Justice, has him giving answers to reporters and bloggers’ questions about his argument and reasons for writing. One of those interviews came out recently at Christianity Today, under the title, “What We Owe the Poor.” Part of his strategy, as he explains, is to move people who are not convinced by the Ron Siders and Tony Campola’s of the evangelical world about the institutional church’s call to engage in social and political affairs. As such, Keller hopes to show than experience of God’s grace will inevitably lead to actions on behalf of the poor.

What those actions should be in each person’s case could differ widely. Most Americans when hearing about the poor immediately think of soup kitchens, donations, what to do when greeting a homeless person, and possible charitable organizations that provide needed services. In other words, justice for the poor should involve selflessness, taking from what you have and giving to someone in need. For Keller, caring for the poor seems to be a matter of delegating to others. As he explained in his interview with Kevin DeYoung to a question about his own personal pursuit of generous justice:

we have an excellent diaconate that works with those in need within our community. In addition, years ago I helped a group of people establish “Hope For New York,” a separate but closely aligned organization, that helps our church members give of their time and money to the needs of the whole city. As I say in the book, many churches who work among the poor establish a 501(c)3 often a “community development corporation” to do much of the direct ministry to people in need.

I wish Keller had said what his answer implies, namely, that he does not do much beyond work with and encourage others who get their hands dirty. There is no reason for a pastor to be engaged with the poor directly since he is called to other work, holy work, and since God gives different gifts and callings to members of the body of Christ. But that kind of explanation might have given an out to every other Christian who reads Keller’s book, has a full-time job, but lacks a session or diaconate to whom he can delegate his compassion. Such a person might compare his pay stub with the budget of the federal government’s Health and Human Services and conclude that he is doing as much as his pastor for the poor.

Despite this anomaly, Keller does expound a useful definition of justice. Typically we think in terms of law and order, righteousness and wickedness, as in let’s rid Washington of injustice and institute a holy and godly society. But Keller hearkens back to a classical idea where justice is “giving people their due.” “On the one hand that means restraining and punishing wrongdoers. On the other hand it means giving people what we owe them as beings in the image of God.” In which case, justice involves everything from “law enforcement” to “giving to the poor.”

Law enforcement and giving to the poor seem fairly unimaginative ways of rendering justice in this fuller sense. Other examples might include how to treat a young boy with exceptional intellectual gifts who is deciding on schools, an older woman with years of experience in child rearing or professional service who is contemplating what to do with spare time, a Senator in his home-state office who has no time to meet with constituents on a given day, a professional baseball player during the off season in an encounter at the airport who appears to want anonymity over recognition, or an auto-mechanic (see I didn’t go with plumbing) on a hot afternoon who is flummoxed by GM’s engine computers and has yet to work on your car.

In other words, a fuller account of justice might actually lead Christians to think in terms of the Shorter Catechism’s explanation of the fifth commandment: justice is “preserving the honor and performing the duties belonging to everyone in the several places and relations as superiors, inferiors, and equals.” One reason Americans likely shy away from this part of the catechism as a guide to justice is that we don’t care for those bits about superiors and inferiors. Be that as it may, preserving the honor and performing the duties would seem to cover Keller’s fuller definition of justice and while allowing for specifics instances of civil law and care for poor persons.

But why does justice for Keller only seem to extend to matters of politics or society? What about an expansive view of justice for the church, as in Presbyterian justice? What would it mean for a Presbyterian pastor to preserve the honor and perform the duties belonging to him in relation to session, presbytery, elders, General Assembly, and deacons? What would it mean also for a Presbyterian church member to do justice to the laws of his communion regarding the teachings of the confession on worship, the Lord’s Day, and Christian liberty? Furthermore, what would it mean for a Presbyterian church planter to do justice to rich people who give for the sake of establishing churches that will adhere to Presbyterian teachings and practices? What would it mean for a Presbyterian elder to do justice to those communions with whom he is in fellowship by virtue of ecumenical relations? And what would it mean for a Presbyterian denominational executive to do justice to the work of Presbyterian ministers who labored in years past to create a certain pattern of church life and teaching ministry that followed biblical teaching?

Obviously, I have my own answers to those questions. But the bigger point is why a larger conception of justice, even a generous one, does not seem to extend across the board, all the way to the claims that bind officers and members of Reformed churches by the vows they have taken to be received into fellowship and to render certain services.

Catechetical Preaching Solves the Church Calendar Problem

Published on by D. G. Hart22 Comments

I continue to scratch my head that low-church Protestants are as attached as they are to the calendar of the Roman Catholic church. They don’t think of Christmas or Easter as part of Roman Catholic liturgical practices. But assigning Christ’s birth to December 25th and Christ’s resurrection to the fortunes of the lunar calender and the ides of March is not a project that leaps immediately from the pages of the New Testament as a must. That is why Christmas and Easter greatly expanded their appeal when businessmen like the Presbyterian, John Wanamaker, recognized the big holiday’s of Christ’s life as good for big business. Wanamaker’s department store in center city Philadelphia featured a main hall complete with a grand pipe organ and various forms of musical and holiday festivities (the store’s current owner, Macy’s, continues some of the rituals holiday commerce). The best book on the commercialization of Christian holidays and the high-churchification of low-church Protestants (implicitly) is Leigh Schmidt’s, Consumer Rights: The Buying and Selling of American Holidays.

Some Reformed Protestants will be quick to point out that various churches, such as the Netherlands State Church, included in their church order instructions to observe five days from the Roman calendar – Christmas, Epiphany, Good Friday, Easter, and Pentecost. Reformed church historians will shoot back that the Dutch authorities were not the most reliable magistrates ever to oversee a Reformed church – they let Descartes live among the Dutch observers of Christmas and Epiphany, after all. These historians will also argue that the retention of these five holy days was a concession to keep the former Roman Catholic – now Protestant – population happy.

Historical and commercial reflections aside, the one argument for retaining Christmas and Easter that makes the most sense is the difficulty in answering simply the question, “what’s wrong with once a year calling attention to the birth and resurrection of Christ?” That question invites other questions: what’s wrong with observing once a year the announcement to the virgin Mary of her conception? And by what criteria do we decide which once-a-year observances are wrong?

To these questions the good Heidelberg Catechism has the answer. Divided into 52 Lord’s Days, most print versions break down the 129 questions and answers into units that Reformed pastors were expected to preach in the second Sunday service. Those were the same expectations that brought Christmas, Epiphany, Good Friday, Easter, and Pentecost into the Reformed church. For a second service with a catechetical sermon every Sunday in every Reformed church that observed Christmas and Easter, I might be prepared to swallow the Roman Catholic origins of the Christian “holidays.”

But I’m still holding out hope that catechetical preaching will make Christmas and Easter unnecessary. The reason is that every fourteenth Lord’s Day of the year the Heidelberg Catechism explains the significance of Christ’s birth. And every seventeenth Lord’s Day Heidelberg teaches the meaning of Christ’s resurrection. That means that Christians would have the opportunity to see that nothing is wrong with reflecting once a year on Christ’s birth and resurrection.

The question for those who want to retain the annual festivities is whether they would be comfortable celebrating Christ’s birth in mid-April (14th Sunday), and Christ’s resurrection in early May (17th). (They don’t seem to realize that they already celebrate Christ’s resurrection fifty-two days a year.) That would make for a rushed holiday season among low-church Protestants. But if Jews can squeeze Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur into two weeks of Indian Summer, surely Reformed Protestants can gear up for three weeks of celebrations. And just imagine how merchants will benefit from a Spring-time boost in sales.