Too Cool for You? Whither the PCA

Calvary OPC in Glenside, Pennsylvania is a fairly vanilla Orthodox Presbyterian congregation.  Granted, the exterior is aesthetically quirky,  and the constraints of parking leave visitors wondering if they’ll be left behind should the rapture occur during a service. But the services are modest, centered on the word read and preached, the hymns are traditional; the Supper is administered once a month. Calvary is by no means high church, nor is it happy-clappy.

So when the PCA decides to plant a congregation only two miles from Calvary OPC, some on both sides might wonder about the need or advisability of a new conservative Presbyterian work in the area. What makes the situation even more anomalous is that the new plant is a daughter church of Tenth Presbyterian, a Center City Philadelphia congregation whose worship differs from Calvary’s only noticeably by virtue of special music – Tenth has an ambitious and tasteful choir, organ, and set of soloists while Calvary gave up on choirs in services about a decade ago. Granted, the new church plant may not be trying to replicate Tenth’s “style”; it might be after a different liturgical market. But since Calvary already provides a service and pulpit ministry that is in the ballpark of Tenth’s, it is not at all clear why the new church is necessary. Continue reading “Too Cool for You? Whither the PCA”

The Great Debate Concluded

(Reprinted from NTJ, April 1997)

From: Glenn Morangie

To: T. Glen Livet

Date: 9/23/96 5:03pm

Subject: Re: Psalmody -Reply -Reply -Reply -Reply

Glen,

I have been so long in responding because they actually want me to do work here. Go figure.

I also couldn’t help but revel in your remark that I was “right on target.” Letting that go on the superhighway for two or so weeks was about as much delight as I have had in a long time. Yes, I do lead a sheltered life.

Finally, you didn’t write anything with which I disagree. I believe we have come to about as good a resolution as possible — which is, I think, 1) that the case for exclusive psalmody is not tight, 2) that the direction of redemptive history indicates that other songs reflecting later acts of God are worthwhile, if not necessary, 3) but that the theological insights which informed the case for psalms are pretty good, and 4) that our tradition was appropriately suspicious of hymns. Continue reading “The Great Debate Concluded”

Inspiration in Denial

This was the proposed title for the piece (below) responding to Nelson Kloosterman’s series on Christ and culture for Christian Renewal in which he brands a Klinean two-kingdom outlook as “religious secularism.”  The essay appeared as a letter to the editor in the May 27th issue of CR on pages 5 and 9.  Thanks to the editors for giving so much space for a response.

The Reformed faith is an inspiring one. For this writer, few stories are as noble as that of J. Gresham Machen. Nor are death bed utterances as inspiring as his – “isn’t the Reformed faith grand!” Yet, the Reformed faith is not without its bumps in the road. Machen himself issued those inspiring words while under great pain from the pneumonia that took his life. No amount of inspiration could overcome that lethal disease short of penicillin – which had yet to be discovered. Nor could all the inspiration in the world overcome the repeated difficulties and set backs that Machen endured while trying to maintain and defend the Reformed faith in a liberal Presbyterian church.

Nelson Kloosterman would apparently have the readers of Christian Renewal believe they can have all the Reformed faith’s inspiration without any set backs. In his series, “The Pilgrim’s Pathway,” he has been particularly critical of what he terms “religious secularism” and highlights the views of Misty Irons, Meredith Kline and myself. “Religious secularism” is an unfortunate phrase that appears to be designed to alarm. Speaking for myself, “Reformed confessionalism” or “paleo-Calvinism” work much better for designating those who hold a two-kingdom point of view. Whatever terms are used, Kloosterman leaves readers with the impression that those who tell Christians that Christ’s lordship over their lives will be difficult, and will not achieve uniformity among Christians, let alone in a society consisting of believers and un-believers, is simply betraying the genius and heart of Reformed Christianity. Kloosterman defends an integrated morality, a unified world view, a comprehensive understanding of Christianity, all in attempt to do justice to Christ’s lordship. For him, the Bible has the Christian’s solutions, and Scripture equips believers to go into any arena with a Christian answer. Kloosterman admits that Reformed Christianity can sound triumphalist, but he does little to restrain it. Continue reading “Inspiration in Denial”

Conservatism, Community, and Pilgrimage

I know at least one good Presbyterian pastor on the West Coast who’s jaws tighten at the thought that Reformed confessionalism and conservatism go hand in hand.  Part of the problem, of course, is conservatism.   Is it what Rush and Sean, or Roger Scruton, or George Will say it is? 

Another way to consider the relationship comes from this piece by Caleb Stegall over at Front Porch Republic, which is actually a ping back from ISI’s American Conservatism: An Encyclopedia.  This section was particularly germane for linking the sensibility of cross-bearing with conservative critiques of modernity:

Two of the most thoughtful defenses of traditional community as a conservative ordering principle were published within a year of Kirk’s Conservative Mind (1953): Nisbet’s The Quest for Community (1952) and Eric Voegelin’s The New Science of Politics (1953).

Nisbet begins his study on the place of community in American political and social life by examining the failed promises of progress. By the postwar period, America had filled up. A sense of dread and ennui had spread through society, and the dominant tropes of psychospiritual expression were no longer found in terms like optimism, progress, change, and reason, but rather alienation, disintegration, decline, and insecurity. Americans, according to Nisbet, no longer seemed to trust or valorize the selfish Randian hero. The problem, he thought, was not technological tyranny or consumer greed or increasing secularism, but the distribution of political power. Modern man’s nervous preoccupation with finding meaning in community is a manifestation of the profound social dislocation caused by the unique power structure of the Western political state. As Western political power had become increasingly centralized, impersonal, and remote, it had atomized the individual and relegated communal interests and relationships to the realm of private personal preference. Nisbet locates the profound unrest in the American soul not so much in the disappearance of communal relationships but in the utter dissociation of those relationships from the exercise of real political and economic power. Traditional communities and the religious, familial, and local ties that bind them have not so much been lost, in Nisbet’s view, as they have become irrelevant at the deepest levels of meaning. It is here, in the unmediated exposure of the individual will to the impersonal power of the state (and to a lesser extent, the market), that Nisbet finds the root cause of man’s spiritual crisis.

Voegelin’s New Science tracks a similar course, providing conservative thought with a powerful analytical tool for understanding the spiritual dimensions of the phenomena Nisbet so clearly describes. For Voegelin, modernity could be summarized as a heretical commitment to Gnosticism, or in other words, a fundamental dissatisfaction with the uncertainties and limits of existence. Impatience for moral meaning and certainty beyond the humble limits of traditional communities leads the Gnostic thinker to imbue human existence in the here and now with the ultimate meaning reserved by traditional Christianity for the next life. By “immanentizing” the Christian eschaton, Voegelin explains, modern man took on the project of remaking existence according to the dictates of political ideology.

I was struck by Stegall’s characterization (via Voegelin) of gnosticism’s impatience with limits and uncertainty.  It reminded me of a quote over at Zrim’s Confessional Outhouse about the nature of “biblical patience.”

Outside of Which No Ordinary Possibility of Salvation

Maybe it’s me, but I don’t understand the point of an organization that is not a church whose purpose is to gather pastors, who are in churches that already promote the gospel, for an undertaking called Gospel Coalition. What were the members of GC doing before when they were merely pastors preaching week-in and week-out, sometimes in independent congregations, sometimes in denominations? Were they Gospel Cobelligerents? Or by not being co-aligned were they not as much for the gospel as when belonging to GC? Is the import of GC that it is a cooperative endeavor or that it is promoting the gospel? But are people who don’t join GC guilty of being uncooperative or of not being sufficiently committed to the gospel?  Maybe both?

These were questions that came to mind when reading D. A. Carson’s attempt to clarify GC for the editors of Christianity Today. For instance, when Carson explained, “In some ways we’re almost a coalition of coalitions. Tim represents a whole network. John Piper represents a whole network. And because we share a common vision of what the gospel is and common aims and so on, it’s not, in some sense, just individual churches. It’s all the networks that are linked with that,” I wondered if the real entree into GC was being a fan of Carson, Keller, or Piper. In which case, should it be called, “Coalition of Readers of Evangelical Popular Authors”?

Then when asked if GC purposefully shared the characteristics of a denomination, Carson responded:

It does, but it purposely disallows others. Sociologically, there is a lot less loyalty to denominations today than 20 years ago. In one sense we’re growing because of that. We are meeting a sense of dislocation. On the other hand, in a denomination there will also be, for example, means of ordering who is ordained and who is not. There are going to be agreed standards on who becomes a member or not. Whereas we’re a center-bounded set. We’re not a boundary-bounded set.

Tim Keller is a deeply committed PCA man. He’s a paedobaptist. My ordination is Baptist. And we’re not going to agree on everything. We’re happy to talk about anything, but we’re not going to make one standard or the other the touchstone for the organization.

That left me wondering if GC is really “Baptists and Presbyterian Coaligned for Parts But Not All of the Great Commission.” That’s a mouthful — BPCPBNAGC —  but the leaders of GC may be up to it since in addition to their day jobs as Baptists and Presbyterians they are leading a super-coalition.

One does wonder if church matters to coalition.

What You Buy in Las Vegas, Stays in Las Vegas

Actually, that was not the point of Jeremy Beer’s post over at Front Porch Republic.   It was instead to encourage a way to support local businesses in local economies made up of local residents.  It is called the 3/50 Project.   And its logic is simple: “Pick 3.  Spend 50. Save your local economy.”  That is the affirmation.  The denial is “Reject Starbucks. Avoid Walmart.”

. . . Then Justification "Causes" Good Works

That would seem to be the way J. Gresham Machen thought about the relationship between forensic righteousness and the fruit of faith.

Of course [Jesus] died to produce a moral effect upon man. If He did not die, man would have continued to lead a life of sin; but as it is, those for whom He died cease to lead a life of sin and begin to lead a life of holiness. They do not lead that life of holiness perfectly in this world, but they will most certainly lead it in the world to come, and it was in order that they might lead that life of holiness that Christ died for them. No man for whom Christ died continues to live in sin as he lived before. All who receive the benefits of the Cross of Christ turn from sin unto righteousness. In holding that that is the case, the substitutionary view of the atonement is quite in accord with the moral influence theory and with the governmental theory. . . .

The true moral influence of the Cross of Christ really comes, in other words, only when we see that the moral influence theory regarding it is false; it comes only when we see that on the Cross Christ truly bore the penalty of our sins and buried it forever in the depths of the sea. He loves little to whom little is forgiven. If the sin for which we are forgiven is merely the light, easily forgiven thing that the advocates of the moral influence theory of the atonement think it is, then no great spring of gratitude with well up in our souls toward Him who has caused us to be forgiven; but if it is the profound and deadly thing that the advocates of the substitutionary view of the atonement think it is, then all our lives will be one song of gratitude to Him who loved us and gave Himself for us upon the accursed tree. (“The Bible and the Cross,” in God Transcendent, 183, 185)

Evangelicals Are Now Mainline (Woo Hoo!)

Christianity Today is surprised, proud, and cautious about this state of affairs, which the American Religious Identification Survey reports.  Since 1990 the number of people identifying themselves as born-again has  almost doubled while mainline churches continue to lose numbers.  (Two important corrections to note: evangelicalism always was the mainline up until the 1920s when the mainline churches’ leadership went a little lite in the doctrine and heavy on the advocacy; second, identifying yourself as born-again as opposed to Methodist doesn’t really cost you anything – and at least the mainline denominations were churches.) 

The positive side of evangelicals’ mainline status according to CT is this:

We enjoy a significant position of authority — contra Meacham — in moral and political issues. Pastors Rick Warren and Joel Hunter, both of whom have had access to President Obama, exemplify this kind of standing in the culture. Glenn Stanton of Focus on the Family notes that the existence of laws or constitutional amendments opposing the redefinition of marriage in 43 states would be hard to explain absent the massive presence of pro-family evangelicals. Facing little competition from the old mainline, growing and dynamic megachurches, Pentecostals, and immigrant churches also have a great opportunity to appeal to the spiritually curious and open.

Frankly, I’m not sure Warren or Hunter actually count as political muscle, but evangelicals have always had trouble discerning the difference between celebrity appeal and institutional authority.  Even so, I thought the point (among many) of the Evangelical Manifesto was to recognize that political activism was giving evangelicalism a bad name. 

The editors do affirm, in a gesture to the “Manifesto,” that “spreading the gospel, not seeking social or political relevance, is the heartbeat of evangelicalism. More often than not, cozying up to the culture has been a ticket to later embarrassment.”  Ya think?

But they conclude:

we also must remain engaged in the larger culture. We cannot afford to become consumed by our own theological distinctives and subculture. That too would be a compromise. We are not called to identify with any culture or subculture, whether that be America or evangelicalism. Our future as a movement depends on that which is in our name, the evangel, the good news of Jesus Christ. If we keep that focus, we never have to worry about becoming the new sideline.

There you have it — viola!  By being faithful, evangelicals can have it all, both mainstream and counter-cultural, no hard choices required.  Those kind of easy answers long on inspiration and short on resolving contradictions admittedly have their appeal in mass movements like born-against Protestantism.  But American evangelicalism will never be trustworthy to confessional Protestants as long as its gate keepers abdicate the difficult work of deciding how ultimate loyalties affect proximate teachings and practice.