American evangelical history has been, it seems largely, driven by revival events. Whether Wesleyan, Moody, fundamentalist, or the Jesus movement, it seems that our culture has run on a roughly 40-year cycle of events. Moody, 1890ish; fundamentalists, 1930ish; Jesus movement, 1970ish. Then there are the small-event, the miniscule revivalists. These are the ones who have evangelistic parties instead of crusades and tents. Campus Crusade. Young Life. Roll your own.

I used to think that there was a revival due us. Unless one is willing to consider that the Purpose Driven movement was some sort of revival, I was quite mistaken. The fact that none has come has me worried. But I am not worried about when it will come. Rather, I am worried about the character of our evangelical Christianity.

There is no forthcoming coming revival. I was wrong.

The liberals are shrinking yet we sit and act smug because we are stagnant instead of shrinking.

American Christianity seems dead. No, it is not dead because of doctrine. We have so much good theology available that one might think this was the birthplace of Christianity. It is not about generosity or character. Our social involvement and willingness to meet the needs of the world around us is unmatched in human history. It is not necessarily about sin in the church. There is a lot of it and we often fail to deal with our secret sins. But Corinth had the same issues yet saw the blessing of God. American Christianity is not dead because it has no heart. While Rome cannot provide a decent salvation doctrine and evangelicals and fundamentalists are all split up doing their own things, all are yet fully engaged in their own outreach endeavors.

Perhaps is it only our unmitigated arrogance.

I fear that Josh McDowell is on the right track. This may be America’s last Christian generation, at least for a long time.  All we seem to have done is postpone our acknowledgment of judgment.

Does anyone besides me think that American Christianity is in real trouble?

More than three decades ago I discovered a form of prayer that transformed what up to then had been a rather feeble prayer life. It is variously called the Daily Office, Divine Office, or Liturgy of the Hours, and has its origins in the monastic communities of the early christian centuries, particularly those influenced by the Rule of St. Benedict. My initial introduction to this came in the form of a little volume purchased at the bookstore of Luther Theological Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota: Herbert Lindemann, ed., The Daily Office, subtitled, “Matins and Vespers, Based on Traditional Liturgical Patterns, with Scripture Readings, Hymns, Canticles, Litanies, Collects, and the Psalter, Designed for Private Devotion or Group Worship” (St. Louis: Concordia, 1965). Although its language is by now somewhat dated, I found it a marvellous book, filled with the riches of the Christian ages, some of which were familiar to me but much of which at that point was not. Having grown up Presbyterian, with a youthful sojourn amongst the Baptists, my discovery of this ancient pattern of prayer was eye-opening. I felt as if something of great worth had been hidden from me until then.

For the benefit of North American evangelicals for whom this is unfamiliar, the Daily Office is a form of prayer growing out of the canonical hours observed in the monasteries. These are spaced about three hours apart and, in the western tradition, include Matins, Lauds, Prime, Terce, Sext, None, Vespers and Compline. Hence the name Liturgy of the Hours. Each of these offices consists of the following items more or less in order: opening prayer versicle (e.g., Psalm 51:15 or 70:1); followed by Psalm 95 (for Matins) or another canticle; one or more additional psalms; readings from Old Testament, Epistles and Gospels; another canticle (e.g., Te Deum, Benedictus or Magnificat); the Kyrie (“Lord have mercy!”); petitions; the Our Father; collects; and a closing doxology or benediction. The prayers and readings are structured according to the traditional church calendar.

Outside the monasteries the canonical hours have been abbreviated to two or three daily prayer offices, usually Matins and Vespers, and sometimes Compline as well. The Book of Common Prayer prescribes two daily prayer offices: Morning Prayer, which combines Matins and Lauds, and Evening Prayer, a combination of Vespers and Compline.

What if all Christians lived in communities where morning, evening and night prayer were prayed on a daily basis? Ordinary Muslims pray five times a day. The ancient Israelites appear to have prayed anywhere from three to seven times daily (Daniel 6:10; Psalm 119:164; cf., Acts 10:9). How would this change our communal relationship with God? How would it alter the way we live our lives together? One suspects that, by God’s grace, the general adoption of the Benedictine principle of ora et labora could change history. Pray God it be so.

It has been an issue for centuries – theologians acting as philosophers and using philosophy as the starting point for theology.  Some do it on the broader scope, constructing theological frameworks out of philosophical tenets.  This is true not only of the modern errors we know as Radical Orthodoxy and Open Theism, but of some older systems, such as the work of Charles Finney.  There are times, unfortunately, when otherwise competent, and even great, theologians depart from their exegetical and historical approach and begin inserting certain philosophical assumptions into their construct.

The logical controls for developing theology are not the same as those determining the content of the theology.  The work of David Clark, To Know and Love God, is a fine work that provides some excellent material for making certain that theological constructions are done well.  But those are external controls which help us arrange our understanding better.  It is not the same as when the controls become the framework.

And though I have developed a great appreciation for VanTil, the matter of determinism is where I would take issue with him.  Rather than following his normal route of appealing to Calvin, coupled with some good exegesis, he sets up a framework that would seem to make determinism unavoidable.

The indeterminist may seek further comfort from the fact that, according to Buswell, God’s foreknowledge is made independent of his predetermination of all things in the universe.  He speaks of the foreknowledge of God as including the “undetermined, free acts of moral creatures.”

The indeterminist, however, will not be satisfied.  Nothing can satisfy him that does not ascribe to man the sort of freedom that consistent orthodox Christian theology ascribes to God.  Even to ascribe so much freedom to man as Romanism or Arminianism ascribes to God is not sufficient in his eyes.  For the God of Romanism and of Arminianism is partly (perhaps 1 percent) determined in his choices.  And the indeterminist wants to be free without any limitation.

It is true, of course, that there are many inconsistent non-Christian indeterminists and irrationalists.  But those who wish to hold to indeterminism consistently must reject every type of control over man.  (Introduction to Systematic Theology, 289)

Determinism is easy to accept philosophically, but difficult to accept theologically.  This seems confusing in understanding VanTil’s position.  True, he is here confronting a particularist’s free will – that it exists apart from the will of God.  Yet, according to Frame (IIIM Magazine Online, Volume 2, Number 35, August 28 to September 3, 2000), VanTil did not understand it as determinism if the cause is personal rather than impersonal.  Frame’s use of the term “chance” to describe VanTil’s view of impersonal (mechanistic or materialistic) determinism might have been better represented with the term “contingency.”  Yet in any sense we are left without much of a free will.

Of course not totally free as we are never able to either thwart, create, or materially contribute to the councils of God.  But we have a will which, though fallen, is participatory in the works of God.  We serve Him gladly since we have surrendered our will by the Spirit’s work, just as He did.

So I find in the Word a contrast that is challenging to reconcile.  We have a God who cares for and guides his creation to its eternal ends.  It is a providential eschatology, a matter of unilateral covenant with His chosen elect.  Yet it is equally difficult to avoid the command to “choose you this day whom you will serve” (Joshua 24:15) command or the ministry of the apostles to preach and persuade people to obey the command to repent.  For the determinist it is a meaningless set of words that took place as part of a pre-established process.  But for the traditional Calvinist there is a fallen will that may choose, but only as it is guided by the Spirit of God.  Despite his statement to the contrary, even Arminians (proper ones, anyway) will recognize the providential work of God (a providential type of election) as he moves men and women into a right relationship with Himself.  Though I believe Arminians are in error with respect to their understanding of election, it appears that VanTil did not really represent their view of free as fairly as he might have.

We live in a society is confused about persuasion and freedom.  The Hegelians place a great emphasis on the community (e.g., government) as the solution to the human condition.  (This represents their substitute for the church.)  This is the axiom of Spock: The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. The attempt to create a Godless solution has, so far, only led to the great bloodshed of the twentieth century.  And in this system the individual will is left to the whim of the state.  It seems that both theologies (political and theistic) may have an issue with individual liberty and its theological equivalent, free will.

As we work to minister well in this world – to make a difference that will affect the whole of society – then we consider how well construct our theology so that it is more consistent with the Word.

My friend Doug Wilson has a great post today about American Exceptionalism. Here’s a piece of it:

If anyone could believe in exceptionalism, and have actual verses to point to, it would have been the Hebrews. And yet note that God warns them of this pattern, which is as old as dirt. He included them. Nothing is as ordinary and boring as nationalistic hubris. Displays of this sin with the stars and stripes waving in the background are just as obnoxious and just as wicked as when anybody else does it — and everybody else has done it.

Read the whole thing, including the comments.

Having read the recent posts on creation and the age of the earth, I cannot but wonder whether the debate is finally an empty one. I would not stake my reputation on it, but I wonder whether the following might offer a way of getting beyond it. Could it be that God created, simultaneously and ex nihilo, everything in the cosmos fully complete and complex and, rather than giving it the mere appearance of age, gave it a genuine history, capable of being investigated scientifically?  If so, then the timing of creation, from a human perspective at least, would not be a relevant consideration. To assume that God created the heaven and earth at the beginning of what we experience as history might not be the proper way of looking at it. He could just as easily have created it yesterday (from his perspective, not ours; see Psalm 90:4) and given everything, including us, not just the appearance of age, but real age. After all, God is the creator of temporality and is not bound by it as we are.

This would not, of course, resolve the issue of biological macro-evolution. As I see it, whether human beings and the higher primates (with apologies to the Archbishops of Canterbury and York) have a common descent should not be deemed a confessional matter but one to be surmised on the basis of the evidence. That said, it should be obvious that Darwin’s mechanism of natural selection is grossly insufficient to explain the sheer complexity of the human person, with his/her cultural-forming capacities, and the huge gap that exists between human beings on the one hand and the chimpanzees and bonobos with which we apparently share such a large proportion of our genetic code on the other. Any worldview unable to account for human uniqueness in God’s creation is faulty at a basic level.

“I don’t believe in the Trinity,” my friend said. She and I were discussing the Christian doctrine that holds that one God subsists in three persons: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Despite being a Christian believer, she rejects the doctrine of the Trinity. I was surprised and concerned that she rejected what I believed to be a cornerstone doctrine.

Wondering about her Trinitarian unbelief, I determined to delve into this “problem which has long vexed the Church, and which even now has not been solved to the satisfaction of all who bear the Christian name,” according to Yale historian Kenneth Latourette.

“Doctrines are not God: they are only a kind of map,” C. S. Lewis observed. He compared God to the Atlantic Ocean and theology to a map of the Atlantic Ocean. The map is not the Atlantic Ocean any more than theology is God, but the map is necessary if we want to go anywhere. Lewis argued that theology is practical, yet “bound to be difficult, at least as difficult as modern Physics.” We can expect theology to be difficult and complex, yet necessary if we hope to go anywhere with our faith.

As my friend rightly noted, the Bible nowhere contains the word “Trinity.” An easy response, though, is that many bedrock Christian doctrines are given names that are not found in the Bible, such as “monotheism,” “incarnation,” or “divinity.” For that matter, the entire Book of Esther does not contain the word “God.”

But my friend’s objection hinted at a deeper question. How did the church discern the doctrine of the Trinity?

(more…)

By now you may have heard about the Russian figure skater Evgeni Plushenko who has been sulking because he lost the gold medal to American Evan Lysacek.  Plushenko has taken a fairly audacious strategy to elevating his claim to superiority: his website apparently announced that he has won the “Platinum Medal” at the Vancouver Games.  

I am not the guy to analyze the judges’ scores in the event, but when I heard about Plushenko’s self-designed award, I couldn’t help but remember something that I heard Alistair McGrath say at a lecture:

“Reality is what faces you when you are wrong.” 

You may believe earnestly that the moon is made of Cheetos, but that doesn’t mean that it “really” is.  You may believe that the check you have deposited in the bank was worth a million dollars, but if the check writer’s account does not hold such funds, your check is worthless, no matter how genuinely you may believe otherwise. 

I don’t want to be too hard on Plushenko (particularly since I’m not sure how seriously he has proposed this medal), but the story has provided us with a really nice example of the problem with the kind of relativism and solipcism that permeates contemporary culture.   As good as our Jedi mind tricks may sound in our heads (“I won the medal!”), we delude ourselves if we think that they will work in the real world.  These kinds of self-serving lies are rooted in the original Jedi mind trick offered in Eden: “Did God really say . . . ?” (Gen. 3:1).

It is evidently the season for institutions of higher learning to select new presidents. We have recently heard announcements from Baylor University and Wheaton College. Now my own employer, Redeemer University College, one of a very few Christian universities in Canada, has just announced the appointment of a new president, Dr. Hubert Krygsman. This is from Redeemer’s website:

“Dr. Hubert R. Krygsman, currently the Associate Provost and Director of the Andreas Center for Reformed Scholarship and Service at Dordt College in Iowa, has been appointed to become the third President of Redeemer University College. This five-year appointment will take effect on June 14, 2010 following the retirement of Dr. Justin Cooper, who has served as Redeemer’s President for sixteen years.

“Krysgman obtained a B.A. in History and Philosophy from Calvin College in 1984. He completed a M.A. in History from the University of Calgary with a thesis on the theology of George Grant. His Ph.D. is from Carleton University in Ottawa with a dissertation on “Freedom and Grace: Protestant Thought in Canada 1920-1960.” His research and publication record includes a focus on modern Protestant Canadian history, on academic structures and curricular design, and on the relationship between Islam and Christianity.”

Redeemer University College was established in 1982 and stands in the Reformed tradition of Christianity. I myself have been privileged to teach there for all but five years of its existence. On behalf of my colleagues, I wish Krygsman God’s richest blessings and assure him that we will uphold him in prayer as he takes up this important office.

From John Knight:

God does not fit into easy categories because only God is free and righteous and just and holy – all in infinite proportions. When he says he creates some who are disabled, he is speaking and acting out of his infinite depths of knowledge and righteousness, not our time-centered, sin-filled, finite perspective.

HT:@JohnPiper.

read the whole thing.

Today, everybody seems to love icons, often more for fashion than theological principle. It was therefore refreshing to read Christopher Benson’s post below, which returned some theology to the discussion. The author disagrees with an ecumenical – which is to say – worldwide Christian endorsement of icons. Hoping this won’t cause church division, he attempts to downgrade the matter of icons to a peripheral concern in order to promote harmony in the Body of Christ. Benson’s intentions are good, but his lack of engagement with the primary sources in the controversy at hand has lead to a very regrettable slip. Fortunately, however, his post contains the seed of its own correction.

Faced with a beautiful and persuasive defense of icons from Holly Ordway (comment #3), Benson bolsters his post with arguments from an online article on the subject. This argument against icons is as follows: To depict Christ is to succumb to the heresy of Monophysitism or Nestorianism. Benson does not seem to realize it (perhaps he does), but this argument is a direct regurgitation of the Iconoclastic argument used by Emperor Constantine V in the Iconoclastic Controversy. This argument, furthermore, was itself deemed heretical by the universal church, which (unless Protestantism sprung from the sixteenth century ex nihilo) includes Protestantism. The church, East and West, deemed the very argument that accused Iconophiles of Monophysitism or Nestorianism to be itself Monophysite and Nestorian. “The painted face does not ‘circumscribe’ divine nature or even human nature,” explains Alain Besançon. “It circumscribes the composite hypostasis of the incarnate Word. But it took time, tears, and blood for that error to be discerned and the truth confessed.” Those unfamiliar with these terms might benefit from a simplification: An essential property of being human is that a human can be depicted. Therefore, to suggest one cannot make an image of Christ is tantamount to suggesting that Christ was not fully human. It is like suggesting Christ did not have fingerprints, or that when one held a mirror up to his mouth, the mirror did not fog up.

Let us put aside the concerns as to whether the images we have of Christ are accurate (it’s hard to say), or whether or not all Christian must use icons in worship (they need not), or whether or not this position is consistent with John Calvin (I think it is). These are important, but secondary matters. What is primary is this: All Christians should be able to affirm that one could have, in principle, made a painting of or (anachronistically speaking) taken a photograph of Jesus. The advent of photography has only made this ancient argument more understandable, not less. Was Christ really there or wasn’t he? The Seventh Ecumenical Council of 787 was not merely about aesthetics; it was Christological. Its relation to the first Coucil of Nicea, which gave us the Nicene Creed, is more than coincidental. When seen in this perspective, Benson’s proposal would be like regurgitating the arguments of Arius against the divinity of Christ, and then suggesting, for harmony’s sake, that the Trinity is not that big of a deal.

Am I accusing Benson of heresy? Actually, no. Though he is, “skeptical regarding the Orthodox belief that the Incarnation repeals the Decalogue’s commandment against graven images,” Benson takes an incredible risk. In his post, with a few clicks of a button, Benson has shown us an icon of the Triumph of Orthodoxy. The medium, Marshall McLuhan understood, is the message. Benson may regard the issue of icons as peripheral, but the many martyrs and saints who suffered greatly on behalf of this crucial implication of the gospel are lined up on the bottom of that icon to remind us that it is not. If we look even closer at this image, we see that Benson is more Christologically informed than he lets on. By publishing this icon in a blog post, Benson has depicted a sacred icon of Mary, and not just Mary mind you, but the one she is pointing to, Christ. Benson the blogger has dared to depict the second person of the Trinity, but he was not wrong to do this. He is not idolatrously confining God to colorated pixels, but he is pointing us to the God who – wonder of wonders – depicted himself in the Incarnation, enabling us to, in turn, depict him.