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Choosing Grace

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features vol.21 | no.1 | jan-feb 2012

20 26 30 36 42

Don't Defend "Grace Alone" Alone

A Potentially Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood: Why Evangelicals Need the Young, Restless, and Reformed

The Shape of the Reformation

By Michael Allen

Dead Men Can't Dance

by S cott E. Churnock

Sin & Grace Roundtable

by Michael S. Horton, Roger Ols on, and John B ombaro

Luther on the Freedom and Bondage of the Will

cover image: ÂŠ joey boylan

by Rick Ritchie

by R. S cott Clark

By Mark Galli

ModernReformation.org

N AT I O N A L C O N F E R E N C E

THE CHRISTIAN MIND

march 15-17

L IGONIER c o n f e r e n c e

r m i n d r e n e w Y O U r m i n d r e n e w y o u r m i n d r e n e w Y O U r m i n d r e n e w y o u r m i n d r e n e w Y O U r m i n

201 2

r m i n d r e n e w y o u r m i n d r e n e w Y O U r m i n d r e n e w y o u r m i n d r e n e w Y O U r m i n d r e n e w y o u r m i n

r m i n d r e n e w Y O U r m i n d r e n e w y o u r m i n d r e n e w Y O U r m i n d r e n e w y o u r m i n d r e n e w Y O U r m i n

orlando, Fl

first baptist church

SPEAKERS: Sinclair Ferguson, robert Godfrey, Michael Horton, Steven lawson, Stephen Meyer, albert Mohler, r.C. Sproul, r.C. Sproul Jr., del Tackett

Ligonier.org/conferences 800-435-4343

departments 06 07 12

Letter from the editor

51 60 62

Book Reviews

By ryan glomsrud

Interview ›› Collin Hansen

By michael s. horton

Theology ›› Grace, Sin, and Will:

The Structure of the Debate

by the modern reformation Staff

J ohn piper, andrew blechman, julie canlis , t. david gordon, and robert darnton

Geek Squad ›› Amyraldianism

by carl r. trueman

back story ›› Getting Past the TULIP

by Michael S. Horton

Editor-in-Chief Michael S. Horton Executive Editor Ryan Glomsrud Managing Editor Patricia Anders Marketing Director Michele Tedrick Design Director José Reyes for Metaleap Creative, metaleapcreative.com Department Editors Ryan Glomsrud (Letter from the Editor & Reviews), Michael S. Horton Designers Joshua Baker, Tiffany Forrester Copy Editor Elizabeth Isaac Proofreader Ann Smith Modern Reformation © 2011 All rights reserved. ISSN-1076-7169 1725 Bear Valley Parkway Escondido, CA 92027 (800) 890-7556 info@modernreformation.org www.modernreformation.org Subscription Information US 1 YR $32 2 YR $58 Digital Only 1 YR $25 US Student 1 YR $25 Canada 1 YR $39 2 YR $70 Europe 1 YR $58 2 YR $104 Other 1 YR $65 2 YR $118

ModernReformation.org

letter from the editor

Ryan Glomsrud executive editor

ith this issue, Modern Reformation celebrates twenty years in print. The publication has changed considerably since its emergence as a magazine in 1992, and even more since 1986 when our editorin-chief Michael Horton, then a student, began with a newsletter. Through the years, however, our goal has remained unchanged: we want to see the modern reformation of our churches. In this effort, we are literally turning over a new page to focus on the issues we believe are of common interest to all Christians in these times between the times. Generally, we don’t put much stock in movements, but we do care about the church as a matter of first priority. Our strategy is to encourage “conversational theology” in the village green where we can rub shoulders with Christians from all corners of Protestantism and pepper our talk with wisdom gained from the sixteenth-century Reformation. Our hope is that evangelical villagers will return to their houses of worship and press for a reformation of ministry, theology, and Christian discipleship. Sometimes we join a conversation already in progress; other times we want to change the subject (we hope

without being rude!) and simply start a new and, we think, more productive conversation. From the evangelical world, Modern Reformation subscribers are motivated laypeople who are willing to spend time in our pages, thinking, probing, pondering, and consulting the Scriptures. It is for this reason we continue to champion “the art of the essay” as the ideal medium for encouragement, persuasion, insight, caution, critique, and sometimes even provocation. We hope that you our reader will circulate dog-eared copies of the magazine to friends and family alike, and above all start a conversation for a modern reformation. In this anniversary issue, we begin with sin and grace. The “doctrines of grace” are common to Reformation era churches but have been given a lot of press by the “Young, Restless, Reformed” movement. We interview the journalist who first broke the story, Collin Hansen, and later give Mark Galli, the senior managing editor of Christianity Today, an opportunity to opine on the contribution to evangelicalism made by this “New Calvinism.” But as grace spills over many boundaries, Rick Ritchie explains how these biblical doctrines belong to Lutherans as much as Calvinists, and Michael Allen reminds us that the truths of the Reformation are in unity. Scott Churnock reflects on our sinful condition and R. Scott Clark explores Luther’s theology of the bondage of the will. We host a conversation about sin and grace with prominent theologians, and on the back page Michael Horton draws out the meaning of the acronym “TULIP” and reminds us that, while not a summary of all Reformed theology, the truths represented are essential to faith and practice. We want to see the church’s wisdom from the ages applied in myriad ways to the contemporary scene because our common need is a recovery of grace, faith, Christ, and Scripture, all for God’s glory and the flourishing of the church. Welcome to our anniversary year!

“our common need is a recovery of grace, faith, christ, and scripture.”

interview

michael s. horton interview with Collin Hansen The Young, Restless, Reformed Movement

interview

ver since Jesus delivered his parable of the tax collector and the Pharisee and Paul wrote his stinging Epistle to the Galatians, the doctrine of grace has filled hearts with praise and has provoked sharp controversy. What does it mean to be saved by grace? In the history of the church, two broad traditions emerged. Monergism (“one working”) has held that God saves sinners without their cooperation. Of course, those who are chosen, redeemed, and regenerated respond in repentance and faith. Grace doesn’t squelch human activity but liberates it for faith and righteousness. God’s electing, redeeming, and regenerating grace depends at no point on the believer’s response; rather, the gift of grace includes faith and repentance—not only at the beginning but throughout one’s life. Even in sanctification, God’s grace alone is the basis for our perseverance. Synergism (“working together”) is the view that salvation depends on human cooperation with grace. Nonheretical versions have insisted that salvation comes from God’s gracious initiative, but that its realization depends on human choice. Typically, synergistic views hold that God’s election of sinners depends on his foreknowledge of who would respond and that entering and remaining in God’s favor are made possible but not assured by grace. Most of the fathers of the East could be classified as synergists, while theologians in the herit a g e o f Au g u s t i n e a r e m o r e i n c l i n e d t o monergism. Synergism was the presupposition of the medieval church. Its advocacy by humanists such as Erasmus provoked Luther’s The Bondage of the Will. Even Luther’s associate, Philipp Melanchthon, embraced synergism in his later work, just as the Reformed churches were embroiled in controversy over Arminianism with the opening of the seventeenth century. Yet, confessional Lutheran and Reformed churches are committed to the monergist position. As “New Calvinism” has recently been on the rise in religious news headlines, we begin this

issue on grace with the hoopla over this resurgence of monergism, especially among younger evangelicals in America, in an interview with Collin Hansen—Christianity Today editor at large and author of Young, Restless, Reformed (Crossway 2008).

q Collin, you were the first to identify a new trend in American Christianity: the “Young, Restless, Reformed” (YRR). First, there was your 2006 Christianity Today article followed by your book in 2008, and then in 2009 TIME listed the “New Calvinism” as the third of its ten trends changing the world today. That article reported, “If you really want to follow the development of conservative Christianity, track its musical hits….By the 1980s you could have shared the Jesus-is-my-buddy intimacy of ‘Shine, Jesus, Shine.’ And today, more and more top songs feature a God who is very big, while we are...well, hark the David Crowder Band: ‘I am full of earth/ You are heaven’s worth/ I am stained with dirt/ Prone to depravity.’ Calvinism is back, and not just musically.” Why do you think there’s a resurgence of Calvinism, especially among younger evangelicals?

a. While visiting churches, attending confer-

ences, and conducting dozens of interviews across the United States, I observed younger evangelicals drawn to transcendence, tradition, and transformation. They know Jesus as their friend but also want to worship him as the Creator, Defender, and Redeemer. They might listen to contemporary music, but they appreciate classic hymnody and enjoy reading the time-tested theological works of the Reformation and Puritanism. Many of them have

already experienced a great deal of brokenness and long for the Holy Spirit to renew their minds and restore their families. Calvinism—with its strong legacy of teaching on God’s creation and Christ’s redemption—resonates with a growing number of younger evangelicals.

What are the core convictions of this movement?

a. At its essence, this movement believes, “God

is God, and I am not.” Surely they would not be the only evangelicals to affirm this statement, but they seem to emphasize it in a way others do not. That means these young Calvinists stress the finished work of Christ on the cross and in the resurrection. We were born into iniquity and without hope in the world except by God’s intervening grace, and by God’s grace we persevere in faith and enjoy the fruit of sanctification. This also means the growing Calvinist movement doesn’t believe you can or should hide from difficult doctrines. God’s Word teaches both God’s sovereignty and human responsibility, so that’s what we should teach. Jesus talked more about hell than anyone else, and we dare not neglect his example. The Bible may not always make immediate sense to us, but we trust the Holy Spirit will guide us into all the truth. Our sin may inhibit understanding and obedience, but the Scriptures show us the way of growth in godliness.

How has this trend itself changed over the last five years since you wrote that initial article?

a. Even after I wrote the cover story for Christian-

ity Today, I remember looking forward to the publication of my book in 2008 and wondering, What if I’m wrong? What if it’s all in my head? I had received some stinging criticism from highly placed leaders that there was no resurgence of Calvinism. So even five years ago some well-connected evangelicals believed this movement was a figment of one young writer’s wild imagination. I think there’s no longer any debate about whether this movement is real. The question for other evangelicals is whether it’s good or bad, worth supporting or needs opposing. Ministries such as The Gospel Coalition,

which hadn’t even adopted a confessional statement or theological vision for ministry in 2006, now inspire a great deal of support and no small amount of pushback. Tim Keller declined to be interviewed for my book, and not many people would have known about him anyway. In 2008, I wrote a Christianity Today profile of Mark Driscoll with the assumption that some people had no idea what to make of this young pastor with a big church in Seattle. Matt Chandler, Kevin DeYoung, and David Platt could have walked into nearly any conference in perfect anonymity. I briefly discussed the phenomenon of Reformed rap in my 2008 book, but now artists such as Lecrae, Trip Lee, and Shai Linne have become widely admired and effective evangelists, even catechists of an unusual sort. So the biggest change might be that the older guard of pastors and teachers has been joined by a younger generation of church leaders who have learned from them and sometimes reach even bigger audiences.

What are the strengths and potential weaknesses in the YRR movement right now?

a. I’ve already mentioned several strengths, in-

cluding the desire to understand and teach the whole counsel of God with boldness. I see the same evangelistic fervor that so inspired me when I was writing Young, Restless, Reformed. The younger leaders remain teachable and respectful of their mentors in the faith. However, we’re beginning to see some generational division. This always happens during times of transition in schools, churches, and other ministries. But it’s still painful, whether the disagreement is personal, principled, or both. I don’t expect major divisions, but growing up is hard for both children and also their fathers in the faith.

The primary influences you identify aren’t your typical Reformed sources, but mainly Baptist leaders such as John Piper, Al Mohler, Mark Driscoll, and institutions like Southern Seminary and Trinity Evangelical Divinity School. As this movement brings change to broader evangelicalism, is it also ModernReformation.org

“ Calvinism—with its strong legacy of teaching on God’s creation and Christ’s redemption—resonates with a growing number of younger evangelicals.”

changing what the label “Reformed” has traditionally meant as defined by its historic confessions?

I suppose it is, though I don’t think the problem started in the last five years. I asked many of these leaders and others how they would like to be described. Some preferred “Reformed,” some “Calvinist,” still more simply “biblical.” There was no consensus then, and I don’t see any consensus today. If anything, some of these same people would rather be known today as “gospel-centered” or another like term. Maybe that’s because they want to preserve the traditional meaning of “Reformed,” or maybe they grew tired of having to explain themselves to skeptical pastoral search committees. I don’t see anything malicious in the “Reformed” self-designation on the part of Baptists. Rather, I see it as a sign of respect for the Reformed tradition of Calvin, Edwards, Hodge, and many others whose teaching has unearthed the treasures of grace in God’s Word.

For the most part, confessional Reformed/Presbyterian folks have greeted this trend with gratitude, but they’re also concerned that the “Reformed” part is being watered down or reduced to a few fundamentals (such as “TULIP”). What’s your counsel for negotiating the tension between Calvinistic evangelicalism and confessional Reformed concerns?

a. When Baptists and other free-church evan-

gelicals embrace the “Reformed” moniker, they inevitably begin to explore the fuller Reformed tradition and its views on church government, the sacraments, and congregational worship. They may not agree, but they’re much more sympathetic and might even incorporate something they’ve learned besides soteriology. It’s harder to dismiss what Calvin teaches on the Lord’s Supper when you’re so indebted to his biblical insights on election and God’s sovereignty. I suspect, however, there will always be tension between Calvinistic evangelicals and some confessional Reformed teachers. That’s because some of these confessional thinkers remain highly skeptical of the evangelical enterprise, whether it’s the emphasis on ecclesiastical cooperation,

revival, or piety. No amount of Calvinist soteriology can mask the evangelical stink, or so goes this line of argument.

Evangelicalism has a history of longing for “the next big thing.” Maybe that’s part of our revivalist legacy. In the postwar years, it was the neo-evangelicals, then the “Jesus Movement” and the charismatic movement. More recently, there has been the “Emergent movement.” Is the YRR movement in danger of succumbing to the short news cycle of exploding and fading trends?

Definitely. Plenty of young men once pronounced Piper a sage and now declare him a dope. That’s not because Piper has changed, of course. These Young Turks have moved on to the next big thing, whether N. T. Wright, speech-act theory, social justice, or another such trend. That’s not to say they’re disingenuous or even necessarily wrong. Maybe they initially embraced Calvinism as a fad or, more likely, as a means of protesting whatever misguided evangelical or fundamentalist upbringing they endured. Sometimes changing our mind is a sign of maturity, sometimes persistent immaturity, and sometimes looking back on our lives we can see a little of both in our course corrections. I don’t want to see this movement fade away anytime soon. On the whole, I believe it to be an immensely encouraging and exciting movement by which God has planted churches, launched missionaries, reformed schools, sanctified believers, and saved sinners. I’m more encouraged now about the state of the church and future of evangelicalism than I was five years ago. I hear the same thing from many of the movement’s leaders. But God’s ways are mysterious. We should know this as Calvinists. No one predicted this movement would emerge. No one can claim responsibility for it. And as we see in the history of redemption, even genuine movements of God can be fleeting. Praise be to God, however. Jesus continues to build his church, and he promises to return again.

Michael S. Horton is J. Gresham Machen Professor of Theology and Apologetics at Westminster Seminary California in Escondido and editor-in-chief of Modern Reformation.

ModernReformation.org

theology

g r ac e , s i n, a n d w i l l : T h e s t ru ct u r e o f t h e d e b at e

by the modern reformation staff

he debate is as old as Christianity itself: what is the relationship between the fallen state of humanity in sin and the work of divine grace, or between God’s initiative and human willing in salvation? Identifying the historical theological structure of this complicated debate will bring clarity and precision to our own reflections on the Bible and our discussions about its faithful interpretation. With this purpose in mind, this article will “unpack” the chart “Grace, Sin, and Will” found on page 16. We begin with an introduction to the basic framework of the debate as it developed in the early church over a disagreement about monergism. Monergism means there is gift bestowed through Christ and by the Holy This grace flows from the fountain of our only one actor or one cause that Spirit. heavenly Father’s benevolent disposition toward initiates and effects the turning us in the action of the Holy Spirit to confer on us o f a s i n n e r t o w a r d G o d i n the manifold benefits of Christ’s life and work for conversion. The identity of this us. These are the gifts of grace and include the forof sins, the imputation of the righteousagent is the central point of giveness ness of Christ, knowledge of God, communion contrast between the theological with God, conversion, and conformity to God. The Augustinian position argues that all hupositions of Augustinianism manity is guilty and corrupted by the fall of Adam, and Pelagianism. augustine

Pelagius

a tale of two monergisms Augustinianism

A 12

ugustinianism names the actor as God himself, who works effectively by giving “divine grace,” understood as an inner

and that this condition renders humanity absolutely incapable of loving God and performing good works. Fallen humans are at enmity with God in that by nature we are only able to choose sin, and yet we are responsible for our sin because we desire it and will it freely without coercion. This is a strong doctrine of total depravity that includes original sin and human inability to find God. Thankfully, by God’s efficacious sovereign

grace through operating grace (or efficacious grace), the sinful human heart, mind, and will are regenerated and made alive, which manifests itself in conversion. Augustinianism argues this position over against another form of monergism originating in the late fourth century typically referred to as “Pelagianism.” Pelagianism

n the Pelagian view, the human will is the sole efficient cause in initiating and effecting conversion. Pelagianism stresses human ability in taking the initial and continuing steps toward conversion to God through moral selfeffort, apart from the operation of divine grace. Seeing grace purely as an external aid provided by God, Pelagianism sharply opposes the Augustinian insistence that it is God who must make us alive by grace. In Pelagianism, humans are responsible moral agents because they are born with a kind of moral neutrality that makes it possible for them not only to will freely, but also to desire correctly and thus will and decide for the good, including even the choice not to sin and turn to God. We have a guide, Pelagius argued, in that God’s revelation of natural law can be known by reason and it instructs us in what we not only should but in fact can do. Even though this revelation has been obscured by sin, God gives what Pelagius called “grace” in the form of further revelation of the Law of Moses and the life and teachings and example of Christ. Thus divine “grace” provides a sufficient positive example that all people can accept and imitate by their own will and for their own salvation. For Pelagianism, then, this kind of legal instruction (or “grace”) will always suffice for conversion in that it gives humans an adequate understanding of what we should, ought, and can do. But this “grace” may be taken or ignored—it isn’t necessarily effective in reality, because humans are the ultimate decision-makers. Clearly denying both guilt and the internal corruption of sin and consequent human inability, Pelagianism was condemned as heresy by the early church in 418 at the Council of Carthage and in 431 at the Council of Ephesus. From that point on in church history, the Augustinian-Pelagian debate about original sin and human inability became the crucial theological

context for understanding sin, the human will, and the nature and work of grace. A debate unfolded throughout Christian history, and the churches of the Protestant Reformation were fully committed to the Augustinian view, along with the late medieval Augustinian tradition from which the Reformation emerged. Pelagianism came and went with its many nuances, and much later it became the basic position of early modern Socinianism and Deism (i.e., Unitarianism) that turned Christianity into a rationalist moral philosophy, American revivalism during the Second Great Awakening (i.e., Charles Finney), and especially Protestant liberalism that denies original sin and human inability in matters of salvation. As the chart indicates, these two contrasting “monergisms” stand as far apart as God the sovereign Lord of salvation on the one hand and unaided human effort on the other. Lying in the middle-ground between these two poles is an endless array of attempted mediating positions. Sailing Too Close to the Rocks

s a mediating position possible? Between the two forms of monergism there have been many attempts to formulate a view that affirms in various ways some account of the necessity of an internal work of divine grace described by Augustinianism as well as the human moral ability and responsibility as argued in Pelagianism. These mediating positions are collectively referred to as “synergism,” or “a working together” of efficient causes in initiating and bringing about conversion. In this context, the synergism of causes typically refers to divine grace and the human will. It is important to bear in mind that “synergistic” theologies are situated all along a spectrum and come in various forms and versions. We introduce here two broad categories of synergism. On the one side is “semi-Pelagianism,” which is fairly close to the full Pelagian position. This view holds that the human will is able to act as the sole efficient cause to bring about conversion; in other words, it agrees with the Pelagian optimism in human ability to act as if unfettered by sin. But then at the same time, semi-Pelagianism is also somewhat conscious of human sinfulness and so insists that divine grace must be given to effect salvation, and ModernReformation.org

theology

human wills simply cooperate with that grace. Thus semi-Pelagians deny the Pelagian view that grace is simply an external special aid. An early promoter of this hybrid position was the theologian and monk John Cassian (ca. 360–435). The tendency toward ambiguity inherent in synergisms of this sort is evident in many of Cassian’s theological assertions. For example, in his book The Conference he argues: “When God notices good will making an appearance in us, at once he enlightens and encourages it and spurs it on to salvation, giving increase to what he himself planted and saw rise from our own efforts” (13.8.4). Here Cassian clearly sought a mediating position that affirmed a Pelagian account of human ability and responsibility, with some measure included of an account of our intrinsic need for divine grace to spur on our human effort. He illustrated this cooperation further with his famous simile of the farmer: “Crops will not grow unless the farmer toils; but equally, they will not grow unless there is sufficient sunshine and rain” (Confessions 13.3). Thus we must perform our responsibilities and God will perform his. Later medieval theologians would say, “To those who do what lies within them, God does not deny grace.” But again, this leaves us with a kind of ambiguity of action: the farmer must initially plant the seed that God provides, and then the sun and rain (i.e., divine grace) will bring forth crops in cooperation with the actions of the human will. So who exactly is responsible for salvation, God for his glory and our good, or humans who would seem then to have a reason to boast? Because Cassian affirmed some need for divine grace to work in us, he wasn’t fully Pelagian, but he certainly wasn’t Augustinian either. He tended to focus on human ability, responsibility, and the spiritual disciplines rather than original sin and human inability. Yet he was a critically important figure in church history as his views on the responsibilities and disciplines of the Christian life became the theological foundation for much of European monasticism, such as The Rule of St. Benedict (480–547), which proved to be one of the most influential writings of Western spirituality.

In the final analysis of semi-Pelagianism, the Synod of Orange in 529 condemned various forms of synergism as heresy. Further, because Cassian’s synergism was suspiciously like fullPelagianism, he was never canonized as a saint in the Western church. Cassian’s was not, however, the only option for a mediating position. Other synergistic theologies, by way of contrast, held that sin is somewhat more corrupting and harmful than Cassian imagined, and that consequently a greater measure of divine grace is needed—even divine grace that initiates and begins the process of salvation. On some accounts, divine grace may even be stated as the sole efficient cause that initiates regeneration and conversion. This view, argued in different ways by Erasmus and Philipp Melanchthon at the time of the Reformation, holds that sin is internally corrupting and that divine grace is both fundamental and crucial. In much the same way, evangelical Arminians argue that they affirm the Augustinian doctrine of original sin and human inability to some degree. However, these synergisms also attempt to affirm human responsibility by arguing that subsequent to this initiating act of divine grace alone, the human will and divine grace must continue in a cooperation that ultimately brings about salvation. So, where semi-Pelagian synergisms on one end of the spectrum virtually deny the doctrines of original sin and human inability by minimizing our need for an initiating work of regeneration by divine grace, evangelical Arminian synergisms at the other end of the spectrum affirm the necessity of the internal divine work of regeneration, even as they seek to include an account of human responsibility. It is to these forms of synergism that the early Reformers and their successors responded. The Debate Revisited

hat about an orthodox mediating position that is faithful to the teaching of Scripture? We have seen how an early attempt

at synergism foundered on the key point is that the efficacy of this s h a r p r o c k s o f Pe l a g i a n i s m . divine grace does not come from our Throughout the Middle Ages, addiwills but from the grace itself. It is tional proposals were presented to only divine grace that regenerates the church, each in its own way and converts us, but this grace canseeking to affirm the Augustinian not complete this work in us withdoctrine of original sin and human out the cooperation of our wills in inability to some extent while also seeking it through the church (by affirming human responsibility in means of the sacramental system). “ otal depravity” cooperation with an internally conThis is a clear repudiation of Pelais one of those ferred divine grace. Central to the gian monergism and also of semiterms prone to frequent disagreement of the Protestant RefPelagian synergisms that deny the misunderstanding. By it, ormation was the faithful interprenecessity of regeneration by making Reformation Christians tation of Scripture as articulated in the human will, and not divine don’t mean that humans Augustinianism. On the one side, grace, the sole efficient cause in iniare always as bad as they the debate was represented by a tiating conversion. Thus for Erascould possibly be, but synergistic interpretation of Aumus, even though our wills make a that humans are as guilty gustinianism by the humanist real contribution, our salvation is as they could possibly s c h o l a r D e s i d e r i u s E ra s m u s, still “thanks to God.” The concern be, and that there isn’t who was a priest ordained in the here is with divine justice, human any part of our nature or Augustinian order and who wrote a responsibility, and a humanistic piour lives that doesn’t famous book in 1524 titled ety in synergism with an affirmation manifest sin. The Concerning the Freedom of the Will. of original sin and human inability situation is not just On the other side, the monergistic to some extent. pretty hopeless, but interpretation of Augustinianism Against this synergism of Erascompletely hopeless. We was set out in a sharp reply from anmus, Luther forcefully restated the are totally depraved. And other Augustinian monk named Augustinian position on original sin yet, because of God’s Martin Luther in On the Bondage of and human inability in terms of the creation-preserving the Will (1525). bondage and liberation of the hu“common grace,” evil Erasmus attempted to claim Auman will. This was an emphatic deand sin are restrained, gustine for what he saw as a modernial of any active role for the human and there is some ate position. Here divine grace will in the regeneration that initisemblance of order in works inwardly to regenerate, ates and effects conversion. Luther our fragile and fallen strengthen, and free the human will followed Augustine in claiming that world. We don’t always in a lifelong process of our converthe fallen human will is still able to do everything that is in sion from sin to God. This is called make choices that are not coerced our nature to do, and cooperative grace—although any by an imposed necessity (it is still even that is a gift from movement of the human soul tofree); however, as a fallen will, it is God. ward God is possible only because in bondage to our own fallen capacof God’s grace (including the initial ities, making it able only to choose movements); the ultimate efficacy sin. In our fallen state, our free will of this grace depends on the responsiveness of the “avails for nothing but to sin.” Because the fallen independent human will as to whether it actually human will is so profoundly oriented to the self, to leads to salvation or not. For Erasmus, cooperative be converted by a contribution of our wills would grace in God’s work of regeneration and conversion make it a self-willing and therefore self-defeating is a sufficient cause (the cause needed to produce work. The only remedy for this terrible bondage is the effect of another cause) that can become an efa divine grace that actually opposes the will ficient cause (the cause that actually produces the in a way that does not eliminate it, but rather effect) if and when our wills cooperate with it. The accomplishes for it what it cannot do for itself.

know what you believe

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This can be a work only of operating grace in the Augustinian sense, and regeneration and conversion—both initially and ultimately—must be sola gratia (by the efficacy of divine grace alone). Thus, for Luther, the good news is that we are not transformed and converted by any act of our wills, but by what God has said and done for us and to us personally in Jesus Christ as proclaimed to us in the gospel. So the concern for Luther was to emphasize that it is the risen Lord who penetrates our heart, mind, and soul and changes us, raising us from spiritual death to life. Our fallen human will is not an agent in our effectual calling or regeneration; it is by God’s grace and God’s will alone. Here Erasmus strongly opposed Luther, arguing that without human cooperation there seems to be no reason for moral effort, and God seems to be unjust in condemning those

who resist him. But for Luther the whole idea of cooperation is anathema, and all human moral effort must naturally come as a response to what God has already done for us—liberating our wills so that our love for him and our service for one another may be truly free. In short, Erasmus declared, “Let God be good!” and Luther responded, “Let God be God!” and these two contrasting positions continue to give the ongoing debate its theological structure to the present day. And the Debate Goes On

he sharp disagreement between Luther and Erasmus brought an ancient debate into the Reformation and gave it a new theological structure that would inform ongoing controversies, beginning

Grace, Sin, and Will: The Structure of the Debate Affirming Original Sin and Human Inability Denying Original Sin and Human Inability MONERGISM

SYNERGISM

(God Alone)

MONERGISM (Man Alone)

Augustinianism

Evangelical Arminianism

Semi- Pelagianism Condemned 529

Pelagianism Condemned 418 & 431

Luther

Erasmus Affirmed by the Council of Trent 1545-63

Cassian Monasticism

Protestant Liberalism

Lutheranism

Philippism Rejected by the Formula Council 1577

Radical Protestantism

Socinianism; Deism

Calvinism

Arminianism/ Wesleyan Arminianism

Radical Arminianism

Radical Revivalism Finney

with the debate among later Lutherans over Philipp Melanchthon’s theology (after whom the “Philippists” were named) and among the Reformed over Jacob Arminius’s theology (thus “Arminianism”). The latter was the most significant expansion of the debate between Augustinian monergism on the one hand and grace-minded synergism on the other. Beginning with the Lutheran debate, we have the Philippists led by Luther’s right-hand man Philipp Melanchthon (1497–1560). Although he remained committed to the work of the Reformation, Melanchthon sought a sort of Augustinian half-measure that might bring reconciliation with Rome. In other words, he argued for a synergism in the truest sense where the Word, the Spirit, and the human will are three concurrent efficient causes of regeneration and conversion. Here divine grace is bestowed by the Spirit in and through the Word in the instant we hear it. The human will is enlivened by this grace and enabled to cooperate with it or to resist it. Now, it must be said that on the whole, Lutherans rejected Melanchthon’s proposal in the Formula of Concord (1577), and reaffirmed a clear monergistic Augustinianism where there are indeed two efficient causes in regeneration and conversion, namely, the Holy Spirit and the Word of God (but not the human will). They did make an interesting concession, however, in drawing a distinction between prevenient grace (the preparatory grace that precedes our response in conversion by enabling us to really hear the law and see that we are sinners) and operating grace (the efficacious grace that actually converts us through the promise of the gospel according to the work of the Spirit in regenerating the will, illuminating the mind, and imparting faith). In other words, Lutherans denied that conversion will always be achieved and instead argued that grace can be resisted and prevenient grace rejected. Operating grace has to be added to prevenient grace as a subsequent gift for true cooperation to take place. To this day, Lutherans believe that this view accurately reflects the teaching of Scripture and stands in contrast to the more radical Protestant and radical Pietist theologies that deny Augustinianism. The debate also came to a head in the Reformed camp with the Calvinist-Arminian controversy. In the Netherlands, a mediating synergist

position based on the teaching of Jacob Arminius (1560–1609) was proposed by his students in a five-point Remonstrance, or list of grievances, presented for debate in 1610. These Arminian Remonstrants, as they were called, argued for a modified synergism that attempted to affirm human inability and sin, but also included a dynamic notion of prevenient grace. They defined prevenient grace as an initial operating grace internally communicated through the Word that enables the enlivened human will to respond positively to the gospel, and thus to cooperate with a continuing operation of grace for salvation. This view was rejected by Reformed theologians at the Synod of Dort (1618–19), and their response is summarized in five corresponding points commonly represented with the acronym “TULIP.” In answer to the stated Arminian points of human inability and prevenient grace, the Calvinists stated the points of total depravity and irresistible grace (human nature is entirely fallen, and the human will is in total bondage to sin and at enmity with God unless and until there is an effective regeneration through divine operating grace that makes us willing to come to God by making God irresistibly desirable to us). These monergistic Calvinist doctrines were reaffirmed by the Westminster Confession (1648) and have remained central tenets of Reformed theology. Arminianism, however, soon generated a variety of new synergist views, some more or less committed to the Augustinian doctrines of original sin and human inability. These views range from the modified evangelical synergism of Jacob Arminius, other Remonstrants, and John Wesley on the one hand, to a clear denial of Augustinianism in the semi-Pelagian synergisms of radical Arminians on the other. Since the Reformation, many other popular expressions of “Arminianism” have arisen in contemporary evangelicalism that could be placed along the synergist spectrum. With reference to the “Grace, Sin, and Will” chart, readers should take note of the complexity of the debate as well as its historical development from at least the fourth century. The task is now handed down to us to take up this conversation with clarity and precision in our own reflections on the teaching of Scripture, and in our own theological discussions and formulations. ModernReformation.org

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defenD Don’t defenD Alone Don’t Alone

gr ace a lone by rick ritchie

“grace alone”

Dt etD e

”

o what do Lutherans think of the “doctrines of grace”? Are they “grace alone” people? Are they predestinarian? Do they believe in teaching the whole counsel of God? Many might be surprised to discover that “grace alone” is not solely a distinctive of Reformed churches. It has been a subject of great importance in the Lutheran Church, and even of controversy. But for historical reasons, the doctrine has at times been less prominent among us, even while believed. Our history could be instructive to readers of various churches, in showing both ways this doctrine has been illuminated by the discovery of “faith alone” and defended with that doctrine kept in view.

Let us begin with how the doctrine has been illuminated by the doctrine of “faith alone.” Martin Luther knew about grace even as a monk. He was from the Augustinian order and studied Augustine and other writers within that tradition. In this part of the Roman Church, the fact that grace was a gift was often clear. Augustine had written beautifully on the subject in his treatise The Spirit and the Letter.1 Many teachings we imagine to be Reformation distinctives could already be found in Augustine. Yet much of the true comfort of the doctrine was still obscured. Augustine clearly believed that we must be justified before doing good works; that by nature we possess no power to do good works; that good works are done out of a spirit of sonship and not fear; that faith means we cannot boast of good works—for what do we have that we were not given?—and that those who do good works were predestined to do so. These are all important insights that are too often forgotten. Yet Augustine left unclear what would happen to the one who found himself sinful after conversion. Different readers of Augustine could come to different conclusions. Was the person righteous through faith despite ongoing struggle? Or was this evidence that grace was never received? The concept of “grace alone” by itself, while perhaps setting a good tone, could not answer this question. The possibility of the sinful Christian was

not seriously entertained, perhaps because it had just become clear to Augustine and his generation that post-baptismal sins were forgivable, leading them to stop delaying baptism until death. (Sometime earlier, the church father Tertullian declared the popular work The Shepherd of Hermas to be scandalous for allowing one lapse after baptism. He referred to the book as The Shepherd of the Adulterers.) Once the question was asked, it needed an answer. Saved by Virtue

y Luther’s time, there had been a synthesis of the teachings of Aristotle and of Augustine. St. Thomas Aquinas had tried to fuse Augustine’s teachings on grace with Aristotle’s teachings on growth in virtue, yielding a robust system of ethics that described a Christian’s growth in virtues that God generously worked in him. Unconditional election and efficacious grace were defended vigorously.2 But faith itself was seen as one of the chief virtues and one we could not acquire for ourselves, but a virtue found in us. This was not seen as going against grace, as God sovereignly granted faith where he wished; but this talk of faith as a virtue put the focus on the human subject. What we often find when reading works of this period is that much of what we think of as Reformation insight is already present, but all the terms are still about the Christian’s inner life. The Christian is conceived of as a better kind of person than others. St. Paul’s argument that salvation was not of works so that no man could boast would be taken as an occasion to talk of how nasty boasting was. Humble people are so much nicer. So the Christian is supposed to be full of faith in what God is doing in him. If his renewal is being worked by God, then he won’t boast. This is biblical as far as it goes, but Scripture presses further here. Some of this became clear to me when I was reading an old Puritan writer who ModernReformation.org

pointed out that it really isn’t enough to say that God made us good. In Luke 18:11, the Pharisee thanked God that he was not like other men; he tried to give God credit for his moral superiority. Yet this involved boasting. The Pharisee thought that the difference between the two men was something inside himself, worked by God. God, however, knew that the men

were both sinners, and freely justified the publican who confessed his sin. When we see salvation as an internal work of renewal, boasting always becomes a possibility. The problem boasting shows is not just a nasty character flaw. It shows that we are focused on ourselves as the location of salvation. The glory comes to us rather than to God. God knew we were like this and decided to work salvation another way so that this would not be possible. It isn’t just that we should not boast. It is, as Ephesians 2:9 says, that we cannot. This change in focus took a long time to develop. Early in my Reformation reading, he Council of Orange (529 A.D.) delivered a stern I headed to a nearby university library to condemnation of semi-Pelagianism, one groupread Luther’s Lectures on Romans. I expecting of views along the spectrum of synergisms: ed this would be especially good. Luther was the great Reformer, and Romans was Canon 3. If anyone says that the grace of God can be conthe book of the Reformation, so Luther’s ferred as a result of saying a prayer, but that it is not grace teaching on this had to be spectacular. But itself which makes us pray to God, he contradicts the what I found was disappointing. I might prophet Isaiah, or the Apostle who says the same thing, “I have been less surprised if the dates 1515– was found by them that did not seek me: I appeared open1516 had been stamped prominently on the ly to them that asked not after me” (Rom. 10:20). cover. This work was done as Luther was still unpacking his Reformation insights. Canon 5. If anyone says that not only the increase of faith Luther was a great scholar and familiar but also its beginning and the very desire for faith, by with centuries’ worth of prior commentary, which we believe in Him who justifies the ungodly and but deeper insight takes time. In this early come to the regeneration of holy baptism—if anyone says work, Luther likened justification to a docthat this belongs to us by nature and not by a gift of grace tor pronouncing a patient well because he … it is proof that he is opposed to the teaching of the expects the patient will be better if he folApostles. lows his prescription.3 Luther also ment i o n e d t h e i m p u t a t i o n o f C h r i s t ’s Canon 8. If anyone maintains that some are able to come righteousness, but left the impression that to the grace of baptism by mercy but others through free the declaration is based on the patient’s fuwill, which has manifestly been corrupted in all those who ture state. Which really decides the matter? have been born after the transgression of the first man, it Until this is settled, faith might be necesis proof that he has no place in the true faith. sary for good works, but it might be the good works that ultimately save us. This is the Canon 22. The sin of the first man has so impaired and kind of point Luther did not leave hanging weakened free will that no one thereafter can either love later. As with Augustine, Luther’s problem God as he ought or believe in God or do good for God’s at this point was not error but ambiguity. sake, unless the grace of divine mercy has preceded him. The clear answer to the question came … We also believe and confess to our benefit that in every in 1519 when Luther knew he was in ungood work it is not we who take the initiative and are then avoidable collision with Roman teaching. assisted through the mercy of God, but God himself first Having written critical works, Luther inspires in us both faith in him and love for him without wished to offer a more constructive stateany previous good works of our own that deserve ment of his new theology. In his treatise Two reward. Kinds of Righteousness, Luther introduced his readers to the term “alien righteousness.” That is, we are saved by the righteousness of

know what you believe

another, namely, Christ. No longer did this appear to be a mere temporary covering until the real work of renewal was complete. Now it took center stage. This was part of an overall revolution in focus. The older “grace alone” teaching made God the active party in salvation. But the location of his work seemed to be internal to man. Righteousness was imparted by God; God-given faith renewed our hearts that now wished to do good works. None of this came from us by nature. But so much of it happened within us that if we wanted to find salvation, we would end up looking within ourselves. Luther saw that this focus was wrong: grace was an attribute of God; God was graciously disposed to us; we received his unmerited favor; righteousness was found in Christ; and faith grasped the righteousness of Christ as a free gift. Now that we didn’t have to worry about what was going on in our hearts, we might forget about ourselves and serve our neighbors. Early Controversies over Grace and Faith

hile “faith alone” proved to be the doctrine in great need of explication in the early Reformation period, in generations following a number of controversies arose surrounding both “grace alone” and “faith alone,” which were addressed in 1580 in the Formula of Concord. The Majoristic Controversy (1551–52) came about when George Major taught without qualification that “good works are necessary to salvation.” It took some time for people to understand what was at stake. Some insisted that if we didn’t say good works were necessary, people might think we had the option of ignoring them altogether. So the solution involved saying that good works were not what saved us or kept us saved, but we were still commanded to do them. We were not at liberty to do or not do them at our own pleasure. Yet continued weakness should not cause us to doubt our salvation, which was founded on something much more certain: the work of Christ. This was a “faith alone” issue, since Major taught we were saved by both faith and works. The Synergistic Controversy (1555–60) came about when several of Philipp Melanchthon’s students taught that man with his natural powers cooperates in conversion. The Formula of Concord

responded by upholding the Augustinian teaching that in conversion God makes the unwilling willing. They insisted that after conversion men were not to be idle but rather should cooperate with God. But the natural man had no power to aid in his conversion and, given the choice, would be opposed to it. Conversion involved God changing the will. It involved the will being acted upon by the Word and the Holy Spirit. We are dead in sin until God makes us alive. To speak of the natural will as a factor in conversion is like speaking of a dead man as a factor in his own rescue. This was a “grace alone” issue, since this teaching taught that human initiative could save, making grace into something one person might merit more than another. The writers of the formula were clear that it was Christ’s obedience in his life and death alone, received through faith alone, that saved us. They also recommended use of what they called “distinguishing particles.” These were St. Paul’s statements that excluded things from salvation: “of grace, without merit, without Law, without works, not of works,” which they found in Ephesians 2:8, Romans 1:17, Romans 3:24, Romans 4:3ff., Galatians 3:11, and Hebrews 11. This was a “faith alone” issue, since the indwelling Christ was used to displace faith as the means through which Christ’s righteousness was received. But as with the other “faith alone” issues, “grace alone” was buttressed by clear teaching on “faith alone,” since this made it clear that when we speak of grace, we are speaking of something found in the heart of God rather than in the human subject. Controversies over Predestination

s with other Augustinians, Lutherans have seen predestination as a bulwark against teachings that make man the center of theology. What better way to prove that salvation is a gift than to show that the matter was settled before the foundations of the earth? When time opens up like a chasm beneath us, and we see the vastness of divine power, we are dwarfed. But when we are fearful because we see anew our own weakness and vacillation, it is a comfort to know this was settled long ago. Yet Lutherans have not allowed election to be spoken of only in “grace alone” terms. “Faith alone” ModernReformation.org

“there is a possibility of conversion whenever the gospel is preached.” has to have some place in our thinking when we get to speaking of the outworking of election so that this doesn’t become a question of natural philosophy. God had given us means of grace. This was how we were to discover our salvation in Christ, not through philosophical speculations. Yet the Gnesio-Lutherans, those who followed Luther rather than Melanchthon, saw that there was a danger in shrinking back from teaching the whole counsel of God. As they said with regard to teaching election, we “should not neglect or reject the doctrine of the divine Word on account of abuse or misunderstanding; the true meaning should and must be explained from the foundations of the Scriptures.”4 The parties tried to hammer out an agreement they could live with, such as avoiding all talk of election, or teaching it philosophically in such a way that people become reckless. These teachings can be found in Article XI of the Formula of Concord, which is a lengthy article that is not easily summarized. Suffice it to say that the article teaches unconditional election, while holding that the gospel is to be preached to all. Election is a cause of salvation, and all the elect will come to faith and be in faith in the end. Fatalism is condemned, as is imagining election as a giant military muster where God arbitrarily decides, “This one shall be saved; that one shall be damned.” The view taught is often referred to as “single predestination” since the lost have only themselves to blame for their ruin. The means of grace has sufficient power to convert. Dogmaticians of later Lutheranism often strayed from the teaching of the formula. This was a result of rationalism, which caused people to speculate about the nature of God apart from the revealed text of Scripture. One view often found was that God elected in view of foreseen faith (in Latin intuitu fidei). This was contrary to unconditional election, and made faith the cause of election rather than election the cause of faith, as it is in the formula. In the nineteenth century, controversies on this topic erupted between the Lutheran Church—

Missouri Synod and other Lutheran bodies, especially the Ohio Synod. The Ohio Synod tended toward the newer synergistic views, which by this time had a number of years behind them. The Missouri Synod held to the teaching of the Formula of Concord. The Ohio Synod accused the Missouri Synod of teaching Calvinism. The Missouri Synod accused the Ohio Synod of teaching synergism. Pastors stopped communing members of the other church bodies. Angry articles and books were printed, such as The Error of Missouri. Writing for the Missouri Synod, the dogmatician, Francis Pieper, wrote a short book titled Conversion and Election: An Appeal for a United Lutheranism. He upheld unconditional election, but also condensed the teaching on the formula to the effect that “there is a possibility of conversion whenever the Gospel is preached.” That is, the means of grace had a power of converting irrespective of election. This was an attempt to clear the Missouri Synod of the charge of teaching fatalism. “Grace alone” has had a long history in the Lutheran Church and even a long history in the church before the Reformation. The Lutherans were heirs to the Augustinian defense of the doctrine, yet certain unresolved questions required the development of the doctrine of “faith alone.” Until that was clarified and while the gift nature of grace was often understood, the external nature of grace was not. Grace came from outside of us. The righteousness of Christ that saves us is an alien righteousness. Those of other traditions should not defend “grace alone” alone. That is, they should remember that they have allies among Lutherans, who have developed a long literature of defenses of the doctrine, and they should also remember that apart from “faith alone,” “grace alone” will not be sufficient to keep the gospel clear. It is only when we understand “faith alone” that grace is truly grace.

Rick Ritchie is a long-time contributor to Modern Reformation. He is a graduate of Christ College Irvine and Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary. 1 This treatise from 412 a.d. is available in the Library of Christian Classics volume titled Augustine: Later Works. 2 Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica I, Question 23, Article 5, and Second Part, Section 1, Question 112, Article 3. 3 Martin Luther, Lectures on Romans: Glosses and Scholia, ed. Hilton C. Oswald, trans. Jacob A.O. Preus, in Luther’s Works, American ed., eds. Jaroslav Pelikan and Helmut T. Lehmann (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1965), 25:260. 4 “Thorough Declaration,” Article XI, Formula of Concord.

t h e s h a p e o f t h e r e fo r m at i o n

by michael allen

hat does it mean that the church is always being reformed? This question is integrally related to other questions about sin and grace, and authority and Scripture. To reflect on these issues that are relevant to faith and spiritual life, we must consider the Protestant Reformation and its continuing ramifications. Understanding the Reformation What was the Reformation? Some would argue that it was a revolt by peasants against the landed aristocracy and the tax-hungry practices of Rome. Others claim that it was an example of the politically subservient masses shirking the authority of the papacy. Still others believe that it was an ecclesiastical rebirth of the Christian church that had been awash in heresy since the days of the apostles. None of these proposals fits, however. The

Protestant Reformation was primarily a moment when God led the church deeper into the truth of the gospel and further into the teaching of their need for the Bible. The Reformation was not primarily a political, economic, or social event (though it affected all of these arenas in various ways). First and foremost, the Reformation involved deeper illumination into the revelation of Scripture and the glorious news of what Jesus had done for his people, the church. Historians of the Reformation talk about its two principles. Its material principle, meaning photo by Henrik Sorensen

the substance or stuff of the Reformation, was the debate over the gospel in which the doctrine of justification sola fide (by faith alone) took center stage. Along with the importance of faith, the Reformers saw that this faith was a gift of God, namely, that it was sola gratia (by grace alone). Scholars then go on to say that the shape of the debate about the gospel was determined or outlined by the doctrine of sola scriptura (scripture alone), sometimes also called the formal principle of the Reformation. We will examine each of these principles in order to explore how they are related. Along the way, we will see why a deep sense of living by grace always flows into a serious concern to live in God’s Word. Faith Alone At the time of the Reformation, God showed more pointedly than ever before the radical nature of divine grace and Christian freedom. Primarily, this illumination came through the ministry of a German monk and professor named Martin Luther. Others had known the gospel throughout the ages, but the Reformation intensified the church’s grasp of the nature and articulation of the gospel. Luther had been raised to think that only faith shaped by love and consisting in rigorous adherence to a system of piety and religious activity would bring God’s pardon. Though he was a most impressive monk, he still trembled before God’s judgment. Eventually he gained insight into Paul’s Letter to the Romans and saw that Christ was given in his place, to be received by faith alone: “For I am not ashamed of the Gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek. For in it the righteousness of God is revealed from faith for faith, as it is written, ‘The righteous shall live by faith’” (Rom. 1:16–17). His awareness of his own sinfulness and his delight in the gospel of Jesus were linked.

“For ungodly people like us, justification sola fide is the best of news.”

The gospel shows that God does not wait for us to clean up, but that he pursues us while we are yet sinners (Rom. 5:6). God does not expect us to ascend to his holy hill and to heaven itself, but descends into the agony of our world and on the cross suffers hell in our stead. God does not look for good works or meritorious pedigree, but unites us to Christ at the moment of our first trusting him. We will obey, but this follows from the gospel and does not function as a doorway to that promise. All that we need, Jesus gives. For ungodly people like us, justification sola fide is the best of news. Grace Alone

ery quickly, however, Luther and the other Reformers realized that even faith could be thought of as a work. If left to ourselves to generate such trust, we would be just as engulfed in a performance game as the Pharisees and Judaizers, as well as the late medieval Roman Catholics. We need not only a new context, but a new composition as well: we need hearts of flesh and not of stone. Luther saw that God supplies what God demands. Faith itself is a gift of God. In 1525, Luther responded to Erasmus, penning his famous volume The Bondage of the Will. He defended what is now called “biblical monergism,” which literally means that salvation is “a single work” or the “work of a single person.” Now, monergism can be misleading if we interpret it to mean that we don’t need to believe in Christ. At its best, however, monergism speaks of the single divine motion in initiating and sustaining all our salvation—outside of us in Christ and in us by his Spirit—by his grace alone. We do believe, but only because he grants us grace to do so. We do love, but only because he first loved us. Grace alone is good news for those with bound wills. Because we are children of Adam, the need for resurrection is fundamental. Charles Matthews has said that “sin is a one way street”—once you are marred by it, you are incapable of managing or fixing it, and there are no U-turns to be made here. So sinners need new life. Christ blesses us with that new life and carries us with his ongoing grace. Like a shepherd he leads, like a priest he intercedes, like a Son he is grace incarnate. He provides everything ModernReformation.org

for his people—even their faith—by his life-giving Spirit. As the Heidelberg Catechism reminds us, “The Holy Spirit creates it [faith] in our hearts by the preaching of the holy gospel, and confirms it by the use of the holy Sacraments” (Q. 65).

else—it is the only final authority for faith and practice. This is what sola scriptura means in practice. The Golden Thread

Timothy Ward

We trust the Bible alone as our final authority because we are sinners Words of Life: Scripture justified by faith alone and living by as the Living and grace alone. The two claims are tied Active Word of God long with the gospel, the together: erosion of one will lead to (IVP Academic, 2009) question of authority was the erosion of all, just as the defense also raised in this era. Hisof one should encourage a defense of Timothy Ward, an torians speak of the sole and final auall! Justification by faith alone says evangelical Anglican thority of the Bible as the means by that we will never be perfect in this minister, considers why which everything we think and belife and yet we are accepted by God; Scripture holds a lieve about Christianity is shaped. as Luther would say, we live a dual exfundamental and central In the days of the Reformation, istence as simultaneously righteous place in the life of the God showed more pointedly than in God’s sight, and yet still sinful and church and of the ever before the thoroughgoing nature prone to sin. While in Christ we are Christian. Along the way of biblical authority. Again, Martin seen as perfect by the Father and he explains how God Luther served as an instrument for thus justified; in and of ourselves we uses the Bible to shape conveying this cherished belief. Othremain a work in progress and quite and to sustain his people ers had professed this for centuries, flawed. Part of our indwelling sin is throughout their spiritual but this era brought a newfound clarour failure to know God truly. Yes, journey and for their ity and consistency to grasping and even our minds need renewal, for sin Christian mission. By confessing this doctrine. Luther inplagues every aspect of our being focusing on God’s use of sisted that human reasoning and (this is what we mean when we speak the Bible, he also churchly powers could not deterof total depravity). Remarkably, our addresses the nature of mine his faith, famously declaring at minds are being renewed, as Romans the Bible: its inspiration, the Diet of Worms that his con12:1–2 says, though it is an ongoing its authority, and its other science was captive to the Word of process and not yet complete. Part of attributes (necessity, God. He did not teach a doctrine of Christian growth revolves around sufficiency, clarity, and Scripture as if there were no other the smashing of our theological idols inerrancy). The book is authorities. For example, he served by working in the Word to form true worth buying just for the as an authority in his capacity as probeliefs about God. We need somelast chapter, “The Bible fessor of theology at the University of thing and someone reliable and and Christian Life: The Wittenberg. But he viewed all human trustworthy to lead us further into Doctrine of Scripture authorities—from the pope down to the truth day by day—and only God’s Applied.” himself—as subservient to the Bible’s Word and his Holy Spirit will do. authority in faith and practice. Grasping the gospel and our need Therefore, when their teaching was for salvation in Christ, therefore, not rooted in its claims, he had to stand with the should point us to the Bible. The more we see our Word of God and do no other. If a seminary professor own inability and our failure, the more we realize we speaks contrary to the Word, the Bible trumps his need a Word from above, a Word infallibly and ineropinions. When a pastor proposes a ministry methrantly given by God. Nothing else will do, for our od that runs against the principles of the Bible, the best thoughts remain the thoughts of sinners only Bible should be heeded. The Bible is the only norm gradually being changed. We err. We are misled and for theology that is not itself normed by anything we mislead. We need God to provide guidance. We The Bible Alone

need God to speak by his Word and Spirit. Having a gospel-centered understanding of ourselves leads to firm reliance on the Bible alone to guide our practice. We must remember that this is true both individually and corporately. The church is a communion of sinful saints. Pastors fail. Sessions stumble. Congregations misstep. Even our best successes are not perfect. Ministry is done east of Eden. Thus every church and denomination, if it understands that its identity is in Christ and its hope is only in the gospel, should look to God to provide guidance. A gospeldrenched church will become more and more reliant upon the Bible to shake it loose from its comfort zone and set it on a course of greater faithfulness. Trusting the God Who Reforms Us

f we cherish the gospel and trust the Bible, we will expect to grow and to change. If we savor justification by faith alone and see our need for God’s Word as our final authority, we will pursue the reformation and renewal of our theology by this very Word. If we depend on grace as our spiritual oxygen, then we will turn to where it is delivered and dispensed with fervency and faith. Most important to remember, though, is not our need to change. The most crucial news is the best: God is still in the business of reforming us, both as individuals and as communities. We not only have a need, we have great hope because God has given great promises. The Father will continue to shed light on his Word. The Son will continue to teach as our ascended prophet, priest, and king. The Spirit has been given to remind us of what Jesus taught, and he will dwell within the Christian and empower the body of Christ. (Those wishing to bolster their hope that God promises to illumine his people should read John 14–17 and 1 Corinthians 1–2.) The Bible makes plain that God will continue to work in applying our salvation, taking us deeper into the truths of his Word. All theology is by grace, a gift from our heavenly Father, so we can have tremendous hope and expectation. Now, we must remember that God’s ongoing commitment to lead us further into his Word does not mean that every new idea is right. We cannot afford to buy into the modern idea of progress or the

contemporary cult of youth. All reforms must be guided by the Word of God, and so we must discern the spirits. But it would be overreaction to oppose all change and insist that we have already arrived at perfection. Such a stance flows from fear rather than freedom in Christ. Not only is it an unbiblical stance, but it does not honestly follow the examples of those from our Christian past. When we study church history, we see the way in which leaders of the past navigated through change in their times, cognizant of the need for transformation that was rooted in God’s Word. Like many theologians of the past, we must seek ongoing faithfulness to minister the unchanging gospel and to be reformed continually by it. As Presbyterian theologian George Hunsinger has written in Disruptive Grace (Eerdmans, 2000): Grace, strictly speaking, does not mean continuity but radical discontinuity, not reform but revolution, not violence but nonviolence, not the perfecting of virtues but the forgiveness of sins, not improvement but resurrection from the dead. It means repentance, judgment, and death as the portal to life. It means negation and the negation of the negation. The grace of God really comes to lost sinners, but in coming it disrupts them to the core. It slays to make alive and sets the captive free. (16–17) So our final words must be those of praise and prayer fixed on his promises. We praise God for his work in the past, revealing truth through prophets and apostles. We celebrate his presence in the present, leading his church deeper into the gospel and further into Holy Scripture. We pray that his great work of reformation would continue within us, our churches, and to the ends of the earth, continuing to break our idols and give better understanding of who God is for us in Christ. We are not self-assured, but we are confident in what he has promised. Because God gives his people grace, we turn to his Word with expectancy. Because he is the God who reforms us, we trust that his church is always being reformed.

Michael Allen is assistant professor of systematic theology at Knox Theological Seminary in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. He is the author of several books, including Reformed Theology (T&T Clark, 2010), and numerous articles.

ModernReformation.org

by s cott e. churnock

Photo Illustration by Joey Boylan by Tanya Johnston

n the first day of class, my seminary English Bible professor announced that he was a “Calminian.” As he explained, there are certain passages in the Bible that are “Calvinistic” and others that are “Arminian.” Throughout the semester he peppered his lectures with phrases such as “this is a Cal passage” or “this is a Minian text.” Since I was a theological novice, this via media made sense to me. Armed with my “Calminian” theology, I graduated seminary and settled into the pastoral ministry. It wasn’t long before combe constrained in any way. “Free will” is mon pastoral experiences began to cannot the freedom to choose apart from any influence put my “Calminianism” to the test. At other than a person’s will. This libertarian view of the same time, my commitment to freedom is necessary in order to be morally resystematic expository preaching was sponsible. If the exercise of my will is conditioned anything, then I am not really “free” and, also making my theological life diffi- upon therefore, cannot be morally responsible. God cult. Preaching through books of the cannot predetermine or foreordain anything that Bible verse by verse made it impossi- impinges upon a man’s “free will.” This philoble to skip the hard places. There were sophical definition of freedom forms the lens which Scripture is viewed. There is still too many verses where “Calminian- through a place for grace, at least in classic Wesleyan ism” simply would not hold up. Arminianism, but the popular Arminianism of I began to look at the biblical text more deeply and in a more systematic way. I also began to study theology out of a sense of hunger and desperation. When I read Loraine Boettner’s book The Reformed Doctrine of Predestination, the pieces fell into place. My “Calminianism” was merely the old Arminianism in a new suit. As my preaching began to reflect a Calvinistic emphasis, questions began to come my way that expressed the underlying Arminianism of evangelicalism. In one way or another, these questions touched upon the issue of man’s “free will” in salvation. The presupposition behind the questions was that each person has the ability to believe. The mere call to believe on Christ implies the ability to believe. The questions also revealed a basic truth about run-of-the-mill evangelical Arminianism: it is as much a philosophical position as it is a theological one. Arminianism affirms that all people have “free will.” To be truly “free,” a person’s will

contemporary evangelicalism is in fact semi- or even full-blown Pelagianism. I’ll call this “pop Arminianism.” As I discussed the issue of “free will” with people, I gradually began to realize that we were beginning at the wrong place. We needed to back up a step or two and first understand the biblical teaching on the nature of man. When tested against the biblical standard, pop Arminianism displays a faulty anthropology. It frequently attributes to unbelievers spiritual abilities they do not possess. It is here that Ephesians 2:1–10 is helpful. In this passage, Paul describes our condition as fallen creatures with three monosyllables, “you were dead” (Eph. 1:1). Pop Arminianism affirms that the Fall grievously corrupted the human constitution, dealing a mortal blow to humanity. After all, everyone dies! But even in this seriously corrupted condition, fallen people still have the ability to “freely” believe on Christ for salvation. For pop Arminians, “dead” doesn’t really mean dead! It’s much like a scene in the movie The Princess

Bride. When friends of the movie’s hero, Wesley, bring his lifeless body to Miracle Max for a “cure,” Max asks the unresponsive Wesley a question. His friend says, “He’s dead. He can’t talk.” Max replies, “It just so happens that your friend here is only mostly dead. There’s a big difference between mostly dead and all dead. Mostly dead is slightly alive. With all dead, well, with all dead there’s usually only one thing you can do: go through his clothes and look for loose change.” Arminians tell us that “dead” in Ephesians 2:1 means “dead,” but then when it comes to the acceptance or resistance to grace, it turns out that humans are only “mostly dead,” or “slightly alive.” There is still a hint of life in fallen people, still enough ability to choose to believe the gospel. This “mostly dead” view is the predominant theology of evangelicalism: all people are able to believe on Christ. We just need the right persuasion, the right motivation, the right atmosphere, the right environment, and so forth. Classic Arminianism calls this “prevenient grace” that is given and then enables one to choose or not choose regeneration. As the old praise and worship song puts it, “The Savior is waiting to enter your heart. Why don’t you let him come in?” You are not so dead that you cannot “open the door of your heart.” The Bible has a different view of fallen humanity. In Ephesians 2, when Paul says we were “dead,” he means all dead, not mostly dead. We have no spiritual ability for salvation at all. Sin has killed us spiritually. We are completely unresponsive to spiritual things (1 Cor. 2:14). To understand the biblical doctrine of salvation, we must first understand our true condition as fallen people. Ephesians opens with one of the most majestic descriptions of our great salvation found anywhere in

“When tested against the biblical standard, Arminianism displays a faulty anthropology. It frequently attributes to unbelievers spiritual abilities they do not possess.”

the Bible. As the apostle Paul outlines the work of the entire Trinity in redemption, over and over he repeats that it is all “to the praise of his glorious grace” (Eph. 1:6, 7, 12, 14). Our salvation is all by grace. Nothing is mentioned about our works, our faith, or our choosing. There are no imperatives for us to do anything, just the indicatives of sovereign grace. As the apostle expounds the wonder of our great salvation, he makes it clear that God does it all. “How do sinners come into possession of all these glorious blessings of salvation?” Paul replies that we were dead, but God made us alive (Eph. 2:5). The first seven verses of Ephesians 2 are one long sentence in the original Greek. The subject of the sentence is “God” (v. 4), the objects of the sentence are “you” (v. 1) and “us” (vv. 5, 6), and the verbs are “made alive” (v. 5), “raised” (v. 6), and “seated” (v. 7). The thrust of the message is: “God made alive, raised up, and seated you/us who were dead.” As in Ephesians 1, the emphasis is that God has done it all. Ephesians 2 begins with a graphic description of our spiritual “deadness” into which we are all born. In verses 1 through 3, Paul describes the universal condition of mankind by using the words “you,” “we,” and “the rest.” Everyone is included in this description. This is what we are by nature. We are dead. This is what Reformed theology calls “total depravity.” Sin has permeated the totality of our being: body, mind, intellect, emotions, and will. Every aspect of human personhood has been corrupted radically by sin. This corruption reaches to the very core of our being so that everything about us is polluted by sin. Isaiah alluded to this when he said, “All our righteous deeds are like a polluted garment” (Isa. 64:6). Sin has so radically corrupted us that we are “dead” to spiritual things. This is why salvation is described as being brought from death unto life (John 5:24). Someone dead in trespasses and sins (Eph. 2:1) doesn’t need education, assistance, persuasion, or opportunity. He needs life! Until we have life, we have no desire for the things of God, no ability to make ourselves right with God, and, in fact, we don’t even seek after God (Rom. 3:10–12). By nature we are fallen creatures, no one is righteous, no one understands the things of God, and no one seeks God. After Adam and Eve sinned, they did not go seeking God. God came to them (Gen. 3:8, 9). That’s the way it always works. Sinners never seek out the holy, true, and living God. He seeks them. ModernReformation.org

Because of our spiritual “deadness,” our former pattern of life fit with this fallen world system (Eph. 2:2). We were “at home” in this present evil age. This fallen world fit with our nature. We willingly bowed our knees in allegiance to the “prince of the power of the air” who is the spirit working behind the scenes of this fallen world. The totality of our

spiritual corruption was displayed in every aspect of our existence, “the body and the mind” (Eph. 2:3). By nature, we want nothing to do with a holy and righteous God. This fallen, sinful world is our natural environment and we fit right in. We have no interest in the things of the Spirit and see no need for anything that God has to offer. Calvinism takes spiritual death seriously. When Paul says “dead,” he means dead. Dead people can do nothing. Arminians assert that people are only “mostly dead.” There is still a glimmer of spiritual life that nderstanding our spiritual “deadness” provides a concan be fanned into the flame of faith. text from which we can interpret the biblical texts reSometimes our condition is likened garding human ability and obligation in salvation. Since to that of a person who is drowning we know that no one naturally has the ability to believe in Christ and is thrown a lifeline (the gospel). apart from the regenerating work of the Holy Spirit, we are forced All we need to do is reach out and to dig more deeply into the text. Second Peter 3:9 provides an exgrab the line (faith). According to ample: “The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count Ephesians 2, we are not drowning; we slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should are a lifeless corpse on the ocean perish, but that all should reach repentance.” floor. We don’t need God to throw us The typical Arminian approach to this text is to say that if it is a lifeline; we need him to jump into God’s will that none should perish and that “all” come to repenthe water, dive to the bottom, pull us tance, then all people must have the ability to repent and believe to the surface, and breathe life into on Christ for salvation. God’s will that all should come to repenus. This is exactly what God does. tance implies an ability to do so. Ephesians 4:4–7 describes God’s lifeThe interpretive “battle” over this verse (sometimes even within saving activity on the part of his peoArminian circles) usually focuses on the word “all.” Both Arminians ple. When we were dead, when we and Calvinists seek to understand the “all” within their theological could do nothing toward our salvaframework. But one important point that is often overlooked in this tion, God did something! text concerns the meaning of the phrase “reach repentance” (or One of the most glorious phrases “come to repentance,” NASB and KJV). If we shift our attention from in the entire Bible is found in Ephethe meaning of “all” and look more closely at this text, we find that the sians 2:4: “But God.” When we were word translated as “reach” (choreo in Greek) carries the idea of “to hopelessly dead, God brought us to have room for” or “to have space for.” Of the nine uses of this word in life. This is the doctrine of “regenerthe New Testament, six clearly refer to having “room for” or “space ation.” God does what we could nevfor.” The other three uses imply the same idea. With this understander do: he made us alive. Salvation ing of “reach,” we understand that what God “wishes” is for all people begins with our gracious God. to have “space for” or “room for” repentance. This fits with the conTo emphasize our deadness and the text of 2 Peter 3 where the emphasis is upon the seeming “delay” in fact that we contribute nothing to our the Lord’s return and final judgment. The reason for this delay is that salvation, Paul repeats it in verse 5. it is God’s desire to give all people sufficient space for repentance. God made us alive. When? When we This is what God desires and what he provides. Not that all people will believed on Christ? No, when we repent, but time for repentance is made available. This is much like were dead. Dead people can do noththe words of the apostle Paul in Romans 2:4, “Or do you presume on ing, not even believe. When the Lord the riches of his kindness and forbearance and patience, not knowJesus called Lazarus out of death to ing that God’s kindness is meant to lead you to repentance?” life, he didn’t first ask Lazarus if he had faith. Jesus issued a sovereign call to life and Lazarus responded by

difficult passages

walking out of the tomb. I doubt that Lazarus felt that his “free will” had been violated when Jesus issued the life-giving call to leave the realm of the dead! One sentence summarizes the difference between Reformed theology (Calvinism) and Arminianism. If you get this right, you get everything right: Regeneration precedes faith. Every other theological system says that faith precedes regeneration. God’s work is made to be contingent upon ours. Paul says twice that we were dead. When did God make us alive? When we were dead. Dead people can’t “hold out the empty hands of faith.” God must first make them alive and then they can do something. What is the first act of someone who is made spiritually alive? Faith! For the first time we see our need of a Savior, the loveliness of Christ, the glory of the gospel, and the wonder of grace. We now long to run to the Savior. Like Lazarus, having been freed from death, we come to Christ who strips off our grave clothes and dresses us with the robe of his righteousness. The first cry of new life is faith in Christ. Even this cry of faith is by grace (Eph. 2:8–9). Salvation is not merely “making a decision,” “giving your heart to Jesus,” or “committing your life to Christ.” Salvation is being brought from death to life by the sovereign, regenerating power of the Holy Spirit. When we understand our natural “deadness,” we can see that election cannot be conditioned upon some foreseen faith that all are able to profess through the exercise of their “free will.” Dead people have no ability to believe. Their “free will” is bound by their deadness. If anyone believes in Christ for salvation, it is only because God has first sovereignly brought him from death to life. A proper biblical anthropology that affirms the natural “deadness” of all people keeps us from the simplistic approach of many evangelical forms of Arminianism, which asserts that obligation implies ability. It also keeps us from a knee-jerk Calvinism that wants always to limit “all” to just the elect. We don’t have to be afraid to say that sometimes “all people” without exception are in view, but this does not imply ability to believe. No one can believe apart from the regenerating grace and power of the Holy Spirit. A good deal of popular Arminian theology strives to maintain human freedom at all costs. This “freedom” is defined as being free from any constraint apart from one’s own will. But when we truly understand that we are by nature spiritually dead, and

that we can will nothing apart from that deadness, the Pelagianizing notion of “freedom” becomes the cruelest bondage of all. It leaves us bound to our deadness. On our own, we will never willingly come to Christ for salvation. We have no desire to come. When God graciously and sovereignly brings us from death to life, for the first time we are truly free! “For freedom Christ has set us free” (Gal. 5:1). We are free to believe on Christ, free to love God, free to hunger and thirst for righteousness, free to hate our sin and long for holiness, and free to reach God’s highest design for us as his children who have been redeemed from the curse of the Fall. These glorious words of the apostle Paul to the Ephesians tell us that sin has so thoroughly permeated us, so totally corrupted us, so completely blinded us, so hopelessly alienated us from God, so decisively killed us, that God’s sovereign grace alone can rescue us. We don’t need instruction; we need life. We don’t need healing; we need resurrection. We were dead in our trespasses and sins, but God made us alive. Sovereign grace changes everything and makes us truly free. When the Lord Jesus rebuked the unbelieving generation to whom he preached the good news of the kingdom of God, he said, “‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance’” (Matt. 11:17). The sweet melody of the gospel fell on deaf ears and dead hearts. Those in the Lord’s audience “freely” chose not to believe. It was a choice that all spiritually dead people make. Dead men can’t dance. They don’t want to dance to the joyous music of the gospel. They hate it. Only when God graciously makes us alive are we able to hear the glorious gospel symphony. We can’t keep from dancing. We don’t want to stop. Every believer sings with King David in Psalm 30:11, 12: You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; you have loosed my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness, that my glory may sing your praise and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever!

Scott E. Churnock (MDiv, ThM) is pastor of Christ Presbyterian Church in St. Louis, Missouri.

ModernReformation.org

SIN & GRACE ROUNDTABLE

illustration by tiffany forrester

e all know the saying, “iron sharpens iron,” and Modern Reformation roundtable discussions provide just such an opportunity. For this discussion we asked three serious students of Scripture—one Reformed, one Arminian, and one Lutheran— to put their toughest questions to each other on the topic of sin and grace. The following is a record of their interaction. Defending the Reformed view is Michael S. Horton, the editor-in-chief of Modern Reformation. Defending the Arminian view is Roger Olson, professor of theology at George W. Truett Theological Seminary, Baylor University. And defending the Lutheran view is John Bombaro, senior minister at Grace Lutheran Church in San Diego who also teaches theology and religious studies at the University of San Diego. ModernReformation.org

PUTTING THE REFORMED TRADITION TO THE TEST . . .

the arminian challenge

In light of what you believe about God’s predestination of some people to hell (even if it is merely a decision to “pass over” them to elect others to heaven), combined with your belief that election to salvation is unconditional and grace is irresistible, in what sense do you believe God is “good”? Is there any analogy to this kind of “goodness” in human experience? How is this not, as Wesley said, “such a love as makes the blood run cold?”

I’m not in a very good position to determine God’s morality. Why did God not choose everyone? Why doesn’t the Spirit regenerate everyone? I don’t know. Nevertheless, the starting point is that he does not have to choose, redeem, or give faith to anyone. “What shall we say then? Is there injustice on God’s part? By no means! For he says to Moses, ‘I will have mercy on whom I have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion’” (Rom. 9:15). The baseline is that all the world is held accountable by God’s law, convicted, and sentenced to death. That we can even talk about salvation is, by itself, a surprising and completely unnecessary announcement of God’s grace in Christ. According to the Canons of Dort, “The Reformed Churches detest with their whole soul” the view “that in the same manner in which the election is the fountain and cause of faith and good works, reprobation is the cause of unbelief and impiety.” All that God has to do in reprobation is leave sinners to their own will and activity. Meanwhile, in his gracious election, the Father, the Son, and the Spirit commit themselves to the most aggressive rescue operation imaginable. It is a love that sends the Son to suffer our judgment, and sends the Spirit to raise the ungodly from spiritual death, unite them to Christ, and keep them to the end in spite of the obstacles that even as believers we continue to place in his path. Yes, there is an analogy to this kind of “goodness” in human experience—in fact, more than an analogy. In Jesus Christ, we see God’s gracious

"in his gracious election, the Father, the Son, and the spirit commit themselves to the most aggressive rescue operation imaginable." prerogative to choose some, not others; to heal some, not others; to call some, not others; and to forgive the sins of all who trust in him—that is, all whom the Father has given him (John 6:44, 65; 10:11, 15–16, 25–30; 17:2–9). That’s why it is grace. “So then it depends not on human will or exertion, but on God who has mercy” (Rom. 9:16). Arminianism teaches that the Father makes our election possible, Christ’s death makes salvation possible, and the Spirit partially regenerates everyone so that they can be fully regenerated by their own decision—and that they can lose their salvation if they do not cooperate appropriately with God’s grace. Given our sinful condition— even as believers—how does “salvation possible” become a greater expression of God’s love than “salvation accomplished”? Jesus’ words to his disciples, “You did not choose me, but I chose you to bear fruit that would last” (John 15:16), warms my cold blood.

the lutheran challenge

Lutherans and Calvinists share two distinguishing marks of the church: the pure preaching of the gospel and the sacraments rightly administered in accordance with the gospel. Doesn’t the Calvinist third mark of the church— namely, discipline—militate against divine grace as the final arbiter for determining who is an authentic Christian and who isn’t? In other words, doesn’t the Calvinist move away from something hard

and secure like baptism to identify a Christian to something far more subjective, like the quality of one’s Christian life? What distinguishes someone who is justified from someone who isn’t? Is it something objective like baptism or faith as framed by the standards of “discipline”?

In the wake of the Antinomian Controversy, Luther included discipline among the marks. Following Jesus’ teaching in Matthew 16 and 18, Luther held that the exercise of the keys involves rebuke and the retaining of sins of impenitent members, as well as remitting the sins of the repentant. Although Martin Bucer regarded discipline as a third mark, Calvin restricted the marks to the proclamation of the gospel and administration of the sacraments (Institutes of the Christian Religion 4.1.9–12) and then warned against the rigor of the Anabaptists in this matter (4.1.13–16). With good reason, I think, our confessions affirmed discipline as a mark on the basis of the Great Commission. The mandate is to preach the gospel, to baptize, and “to teach them to observe everything I have commanded you.” To discipline is to make disciples: to teach, exhort, correct, encourage, and rebuke (2 Tim. 4:2–3). Here, Paul includes this as part of the ministry of the Word. Similarly, in 1 Corinthians he rebukes the church for making a parody of the Supper and calls for discipline (i.e., order) in the ministry, offices, and public service so that the sacrament may be observed properly. It’s not a question of how much progress one is making in sanctification, but of whether there are objective offices and order in the church for delivering the means of grace. Discipline is instruction. It’s to submit to the elders with respect to doctrine and life. You can’t just call yourself a church because you have some friends over to your house for a Bible study and take it upon yourself to baptize or administer Communion. And members can’t accuse each other of false doctrine or of “not really being a Christian” in experience or conduct. All who have made a public profession of faith before the elders and the church are regarded as belonging to the communion of saints. There is due process for handling scandals in doctrine and life. In other words, discipline (orderly communion) in the church helps to ensure that the Word is

normative and the sacraments are administered according to Christ’s command. It’s a support to the first two marks. Christ doesn’t liberate us from sin and death only to leave us to fend for ourselves, exposed to the elements. God’s fatherly discipline is gracious to us and to our brothers and sisters who are affected by our continuing struggle with sin and error. While our confessions mention discipline as a mark of the church, they speak only of the preaching of the gospel and the administration of the sacraments as the means by which the Spirit creates and confirms our faith to the end. Discipline (i.e., Christ’s pastoral care through officers) serves that ministry. PUTTING THE ARMINIAN TRADITION TO THE TEST …

the reformed challenge

The doctrine of universal prevenient grace allows Arminians to defend synergism without affirming Pelagian or even semiPelagian confidence in unaided free will. However, Arminian biblical scholars such as Ben Witherington have pointed out that the doctrine of prevenient grace doesn’t actually have any exegetical basis. How would you respond?

Not all Arminians believe in universal prevenient grace. All Arminians believe that prevenient grace alone makes possible the notyet-saved person’s free response to the gospel. Reformed folks also believe in prevenient grace; they just think it is irresistible (or efficacious) for the elect. Arminians believe it is resistible. So whatever exegetical basis there is for the Reformed doctrine of prevenient grace is also the basis for the Arminian doctrine. For example, John 6:44 refers to the “drawing” of the Father to the Son, Jesus. The Greek word translated “draw” in that verse and similar verses is ελκυσω. Some Reformed exegetes insist it always means only “compel,” but if that’s the case, John 12:32 would require universalism. And, in fact, as I have shown in Against Calvinism (163–64), it does not always mean “compel” in extra-biblical Greek. ModernReformation.org

Also, Reformed folks (and Arminians) believe in common grace for which there is no more exegetical basis than prevenient grace; both are valid deductions from Scripture. Many doctrines are not spelled out explicitly in Scripture and therefore may be said to lack exegetical basis. They’re still valid insofar as they are necessary to understand Scripture. The Trinity is, of course, an example.

the lutheran challenge

In the Arminian scheme, are there any conditions for salvation that Christ himself did not personally accomplish, fulfill, and apply but that unregenerate individuals must themselves fulfill independently of Christ so as to render the work of Christ for that individual complete and efficacious? If so, then how does that other-than-Christfulfilled condition comport with justification by grace, through faith, because of Christ alone?

In the “Arminian scheme,” there are no conditions of salvation that an unregenerate person must or can fulfill independently of Christ so as to render the work of Christ for that individual complete and efficacious. All one must do, but cannot do without the prevenient grace of Christ through the Word of God and/or through the Holy Spirit’s drawing and enabling, is not resist but accept Christ’s finished work, which means repent and trust in Christ alone. This nonresistance is not a meritorious work, nor is it in addition to what Christ has done or independent of what Christ has done; it is simply and solely free acceptance of what Christ has done. It is made possible by the convicting, calling, illuminating, and enabling power of the Holy Spirit always, so far as we know, made active by the Word of God proclaimed. The person thus being freed from bondage to sin (i.e., unbelief ) by prevenient grace is no longer simply unregenerate. Arminius himself explicitly appealed to Philipp Melanchthon as support for this evangelical synergism. Arminians believe that free acceptance of a gift in no way makes the gift less of a gift. That is true in ordinary life as everyone knows and admits. Why wouldn’t it be true in the case of God’s gifts? A gift does not have to be imposed to be a gift.

PUTTING THE LUTHERAN TRADITION TO THE TEST …

the reformed challenge

We stand shoulder to shoulder on justification and monergism. Yet Reformed folks wonder if Lutherans are consistent (not only logically but exegetically) if we can lose our regeneration and justification. How do you respond to that concern?

a. It is true that Article XII of the Augsburg

Confession says, “Our churches condemn the Anabaptists who deny that those who have once been justified can lose the Holy Spirit,” and so there is a standing tension, which I articulated in the Lutheran response to Roger. Notwithstanding, Reformed folks may be assuaged of the concern that Lutherans are exegetically inconsistent. Judas himself received the same sanctifying word of the Lord in the Upper Room. He need not have his whole body washed but only his feet since he “was clean,” though he proved himself apostate. Likewise, St. Paul in his Epistles frequently expresses his concern for the saints to persevere in their justified status for not only the sake of the gospel but also personal faith: hence the examples of Hymenaeus and Alexander (1 Tim. 1:20), to name but two. The apostles warned about the emergence of heresy and specifically apostasy in the church (1 Tim. 4:1–3; 2 Thess. 2:3), which is the community of the baptized and therefore justified. The same, of course, could be said for the author of Hebrews and the opening chapters of Revelation to the churches, both of which address the consequences of falling away from the faith (see, e.g., Heb. 6:5–8; 10:26). Monergistic regeneration is affirmed, but so is the warning for the potential utter repudiation of justifying grace, consistent with the Scriptures. The Reformed should be mindful that they say virtually the same thing as the Lutheran, though using different categories, nomenclature, and an internal theological system that Lutherans do not employ. And so Calvinists also will admit that there are those in their midst who, as far as profession of faith, baptism, and outward appearance are concerned, are denominated as the

"god’s fatherly discipline is gracious to us and to our brothers and sisters who are affected by our continuing struggle with sin and error." “justified,” the “regenerate.” Yet, if the profession of their faith and baptism do not yield fruit concomitant with regeneration, then the categories shift—the person may be identified as the “reprobate.” The one persisting in reprobate behavior and profession will ultimately manifest consequent “apostasy,” as the Lutheran may see it. The Reformed will say that those hypocrites or reprobates in our midst were actually never of the elect, were never regenerated or justified or possessed faith. This betrays what was said and celebrated about the same baptized individuals who once retained the third distinguishing mark of the church (discipline and its fruits). A new category now applies: the unrepentant, persistent sinner who was baptized was not of the “invisible church” but merely of the “visible church.” These categories allow the Reformed to remain consistent with their theological system. Lutherans, on the other hand, are not bound to conform their dogmatics to systematics, and affirm without inconsistency both biblical doctrines. Lastly, the Reformed are right to detect a concern about this dogmatic tension, namely, a pastoral concern—a pastoral concern that the baptized and therefore justified and regenerate abide in the faith, enjoying fellowship with God and the communion of saints, rather than

abandon the ark of salvation. In this, too, the Reformed and Lutheran also stand shoulder to shoulder, albeit employing different categories. the arminian challenge

do you reconcile monergism with uniq How versal atonement and amissible grace? a. Our redemption truly is a completely divine

act, both in terms of its merciful accomplishment (“objective justification”) by way of a universal atonement (per Matt. 28:19; John 3:16–17; Titus 2:11; 1 John 2:2) and its specified gracious application (“subjective justification”) through the proclamation of the gospel or baptism into the same gospel. The atonement is universal in scope, specified in particular application (hence, the nonuniversality in terms of application) as the gracious work of God alone, received through the gift of faith alone, because of the accomplishments and representation of Christ alone. And yet this grace applied may be lost (amissible). There is nothing illogical or unbiblical about this progression given the testimony of Scripture concerning apostasy. Luther’s categories of the “hidden” and “revealed” God may be helpful in this regard. The “revealed God” is the “preached God” who elects in Christ. The revealed God comes to us clothed with the gospel and makes himself known through means of grace that are mediated and therefore resistible. Just as when our Lord Jesus rode into Jerusalem lamenting how the people “always resist the Holy Spirit” (i.e., the means by which the Holy Spirit ministers to us through the Word of God and now the Messiah), so too human resistance of the grace of God may be fatal to faith. This tension, this paradox, however, is in keeping not with the “preached God” but the “hidden God”—the God of biblical predestination. The fatal repudiation of the gospel once received, about which Scripture clearly warns, is something that belongs to the domain of the hidden, the mysterious, the inscrutable. Evangelical Christians do not necessarily reconcile these biblical truths but rather believe, teach, and confess them as apprehensible but not comprehensible. ModernReformation.org

Luther on the Freedom and Bondage of the Will by r. s cott clark

As Luther climbed the Santa Scala in 1510 on his knees in Rome, the principal thing on his mind was the possibility of salvation. The farthest thing from his mind was the certainty of salvation, and this was because, to that point, the only theology of salvation Luther knew taught him to count on two things: the freedom of the human will and the necessity of human cooperation with grace toward attaining salvation. Fifteen years later in 1525, Lutherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s understanding of salvation had changed completely, and he published a book that changed the landscape of Western Christianity: The Bondage of the Will. Setting

uther was not the first to discover the free, sovereign grace of God. In fifth-century North Africa, Augustine wrestled with the teaching of Pelagius and came to see that sin brings death and human inability and that grace is free and sovereign. In the intervening centuries, there were voices that kept this message alive, but they were a minority. As a student, Luther learned a theology that downplayed the effects of sin in ways that would cause

Illustration by Simon Ducroquet

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Pelagius to smile. His teachers held the view that God has promised to impute perfection to those who do their best, and that humans, even after the Fall, have it within themselves to do what God’s law requires. In the following century, there was a significant and vehement reaction to what was perceived as a resurgence of Pelagianism. Indeed, in his monastery the young Luther regularly heard a proponent of Augustine’s doctrines of sin and grace, but it was not until he found those doctrines in Scripture for himself that they penetrated his heart. Thus it was a low view of sin and grace that Luther imbibed in university, and it was this view he took with him as he began his own teaching career. In 1513–14, his first course of lectures as a professor took him through the Psalms and Augustine’s homilies on the Psalms. He found that Scripture disagreed with the theology he had been taught in university, and he began to see that sin brought death and an inability to cooperate with grace. On Psalm 51 he wrote, “It is indeed true. For we are still unrighteous and unworthy before God, so that whatever we do is nothing before him” (Luther’s Works, American ed. [St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1958], 10.236; hereafter LW ). Luther was moving in a Pauline-Augustinian direction. Years later he commented, “I did not learn my theology all at once, but had to search deeper for it, where my temptations took me” (LW 54.50). After his lectures on the Psalms, Romans, and Galatians, Luther announced his recovery of the Pauline and Augustinian doctrines of sin, grace, and divine freedom. In the Heidelberg Disputation (1518), Luther expressed one of the central arguments of his later work The Bondage of the Will: “‘Free will’ after the fall, exists in name only, and as long as it is ‘doing what is within it’ it is committing mortal sin” (revised from LW 31.40). When, however, Erasmus read Luther’s Protestant views, he did not like the aftertaste they left in his humanist mouth. In the treatise The Freedom of the Will (1524), Erasmus restated the dominant medieval view that downplayed the effects of the Fall, insisting on the ability and necessity of human cooperation with grace unto (final) justification (Roland H. Bainton, Erasmus of Christendom [New York: Scribner’s Sons, 1969], 158). In 1525, Luther responded, moving the Reformation to a new level of clarity about its most essential

convictions: salvation by grace alone (sola gratia), through faith alone (sola fide), in Christ alone (solo Christo) and Scripture alone (sola scriptura) as the unique normative authority for faith and the Christian life. God’s Freedom and Our B ondage

he God that Luther announced in Bondage of the Will is sovereign, free, and had determined from all eternity those to whom he would freely give new life through the preached gospel and those whom he would leave in sin and death. For Luther, the existence of God’s eternal determinations about humanity was revealed in Scripture but the particulars were not; many of God’s ways and decisions are hidden to us. The God with whom we have to do is the God who reveals his Word to us in Scripture, his law and his gospel, which reveals to us everything we need to know about God and salvation (LW 33.138–147). The work is in two parts. The first two-thirds of Bondage of the Will responded point by point to Erasmus. Along the way, he articulated the most essential biblical and Reformation truths. Erasmus had reasoned that if Scripture tells us to do something, it must be the case that we can do it or else God is unjust. Such reasoning demonstrated that Erasmus did not know how to distinguish between the principles of law and gospel in Scripture. Now I ask you, what good will anyone do in a matter of theology or Holy Writ, who has not yet got as far as knowing what the law and the gospel is, or if he knows, disdains to observe the distinction between them? Such a person is bound to confound everything—heaven and hell, life and death—and he will take no pains to know anything at all about Christ. (LW 33.132)

According to Luther’s criticism, Erasmus had managed to turn the good news into bad news! Erasmus was guilty of a sort of rationalism, of sitting in judgment over Scripture, because he had not utterly abandoned himself to the teaching of Scripture, even when the Scripture presented hard truths. For example, on Exodus 4:21 concerning the hardening of Pharaoh’s heart, Luther wrote: “The Divine Author says, ‘I will harden Pharaoh’s heart,’ and the

“I myself have more than once been offended [by this doctrine] almost to the very depth and abyss of despair, so that I wished I had never been created a man, until I realized how salutary was this despair and how near to grace.” meaning of the verb ‘to harden’ is plain and well known.…By what authority, for what reason, with what necessity is the natural meaning of the word twisted for me?” (LW 33.165). Luther repeatedly asserted and defended the essential clarity of God’s Word on those points necessary for faith and life. Luther found the same clarity of Scripture in Romans 9. It is not possible to “resist” God’s will. People may feel and desire things to be otherwise, but Luther knew Scripture to be “transparently clear” on these points. God hardens whom he wills. He has mercy upon whom he wills (LW 33.187). God’s eternal foreknowledge and omnipotence are “diametrically opposed to our free choice,” and so much so that they “completely abolish the dogma of free choice” (LW 33.189). It was not that Luther denied that humans exercise any sort of freedom; he only recognized a distinction between necessity and compulsion (LW 33.192–212). Whatever God wills happens necessarily, but humans are not forced to action or inaction. Fallen humans will freely according to their natures, without compulsion, and within the limits of God’s wise and governing decree.

Conclusion

uther was a pastor and recognized how difficult then (as now) these words are to hear. It was not as if he himself had not struggled with it: “I myself have more than once been offended [by this doctrine] almost to the very depth and abyss of despair, so that I wished I had never been created a man, until I realized how salutary was this despair and how near to grace” (LW 18.719). He insisted on God’s freedom and our natural, fallen inability to do anything except sin because he came to see how intertwined God’s free, eternal choice is with grace. It is of the essence of grace (divine favor) that God be free. If it is true that God must save a certain person, then grace is no longer grace. If grace depends on our cooperation, then grace is no longer grace (LW 33.241–44). He also insisted on this teaching because to say, as the medieval church had said, that a fallen sinner still has power to cooperate with divine grace, is to deny the necessity of Christ’s work. For Luther, it was utterly perverse to say that the doctrine of unconditional election leads to doubt. Rather, it is the basis of our assurance. This is because there are two spiritual kingdoms in the world, that of Christ and the other of Satan. By nature we are citizens of the kingdom of Satan. We can become a member of Christ’s kingdom only by the sovereign, free, gracious choice and work of God (LW 33.288). If we believe, it is only because of God’s free, gracious choice, not our own. If it were my choice, “I should be unable to stand firm and keep hold of it amid so many adversities and perils and so many assaults of demons” (LW 33.288). Without this doctrine of divine free will, believers could never be assured or certain of God’s favor because we might always lose it; but if we do come to faith, we can have firm confidence that it is because God has chosen us, made us alive, given us faith, and united us to Christ. He cannot lose us, and this is something of which we should have no doubt.

R. Scott Clark (DPhil, University of Oxford) is professor of church history and historical theology at Westminster Seminary California in Escondido.

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P o t e n t i ally B e a u t i f u l D ay i n t h e N e i g h bor h ood

Why Evangelicals Need the Young, Restless, and Reformed

n describing his conversion, Charles Finney wrote that he “wept aloud with joy and love” and “literally bellowed out unutterable gushings of [his] heart.… [W]aves came over me, and over me, and over me, one after the other, until I recollect I cried out, ‘I shall die if these waves continue to pass over me.’” The quote goes a long way in explaining why Finney was driven to use evangelistic techniques that exploited the human psyche. With dramatic use of the “sinner’s bench,” a kind of spiritual torture chamber, he drove hearers to despair to bring them to a spiritual breakthrough not unlike his own.

Fortunately, these days we see little of this crass evangelism (though some television preachers come close). Still, we evangelicals tend to get a little nervous if something remarkable isn’t happening in us. It is a twin temptation—to make something happen to people and to make people make something happen—to which the evangelical movement is now addicted. Providentially, the “young, restless, and Reformed” may be able to put some theological sense back into the evangelical movement. At first blush, it may seem as if the “restless Reformed” are just as nervous as evangelicals. Yet the New Calvinists are not anxious about the church’s experience or activity, but rather about its memory. We have forgotten God, as Alexander Solzhenitsyn put it. He was speaking of America when he said this in 1972. Unfortunately, his insight applies to large sectors of the evangelical church in 2012. The first of these “godless” tendencies is found in our anxiety to make something happen to people, to house industries

by mark galli

help them get better, to become transformed. Thus our churches are fascinated with sermon series on five ways to improve your marriage or six ways to conquer fear. Sociologist of religion Wade Clark Roof, in his Spiritual Marketplace: Baby Boomers and the Remaking of American Religion, concluded that the popularity of evangelicalism is due primarily to “its attention to personal needs, and not dogma or even strict morality.” This, he said, “is supported by careful analysis of national surveys. Psychological categories like ‘self,’ ‘fulfillment,’ ‘individuality,’ ‘journey,’ ‘walk,’ and ‘growth’ are all very prominent within evangelical Christianity.” We evangelicals are less interested in appealing not to everyone’s God-shaped vacuum but to our yearning for self-improvement. Their reason for existence is not to glorify God and enjoy him forever, but to fix the self. There’s lots of talk about being “transformed by God,” but there is a lot more interest in transformation than in God. The psychology of the appeal often works like this: “You don’t like the way you are? Come to God; he’s pretty good at making you into the person you always wanted to be.” God as personal coach. Many evangelicals vault in another direction. It’s not about making people experience something, but making people make a difference—in the world. It’s ModernReformation.org

not just the calls to do justice and to love mercy—we would hear more of such—but the assumption that it’s what we do that makes all the difference. I recently heard a preacher expound on Hebrews 12:1, in which the writer reminds us that we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses. This preacher urged us to fashion a lifestyle that would help us endure, and his first point was this: “Surround yourself with a great cloud of witnesses.” He failed to notice that the text was an encouraging announcement of a divine gift—a great cloud of witnesses—given by God’s grace. Instead, the preacher reflexively used the text to talk about what we need to do. Another example. There are many urgent and just calls in the evangelical world for racial reconciliation. But nearly every one of them is based on this assumption: We are not reconciled with our fellow Christians of another race. This is patently false, according to Paul: “For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek…for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Gal. 3:28). We do not accomplish racial reconciliation; it has been accomplished in Christ. The most we can do—and this is hard enough!—is to recognize and live as if this racial reconciliation has already been achieved. When the faith is reduced to transformation of the self or my transformation of the world, it amounts to the same thing: the death of God. For the sovereign God is turned into a mere servant of my projects. God as the Lord God might as well not exist. As Wade Clark Roof noted in his study, “the ‘weightlessness’ of contemporary belief in God is a reality…for religious liberals and many evangelicals.” These well-meaning but finally trivial emphases have made evangelicalism understandably repugnant to many of the neo-Calvinists. Once you have a vision of the grandeur of God, so many of our pitiful attempts to make him relevant to our world seem to blaspheme his glory. It’s hard not to want to sidle up alongside the Pharisee and pray, “I thank thee Father that you have not made me like these evangelicals.” This, as many in the Calvinist world have noted, is a big temptation. There is nothing more ironic than for those who know the wonders of grace to stand in judgment on those who don’t, and nothing more paradoxical than to use our freedom to turn

know what you believe The Heidelberg Catechism (A sixteenth-century summary of doctrine) helps christians understand humanity’s fallen nature. Q.5 Can you keep all this [law] perfectly? A. No, for I am prone by nature to hate God and my neighbor (Rom. 3:10–12, 23; 1 Jn. 1:8, 10; Gen. 6:5, 8:21; Jer. 17:9; Rom. 7:23, 8:7; Eph. 2:3; Tit. 2:3). Q.6 Did God create man thus, wicked and perverse? A. No, but God created man good (Gen. 1:31), and after His own image (Gen. 1:26–27), that is, in righteousness and true holiness (Eph. 4:24; 2 Cor. 3:18), that he might rightly know God his Creator (Col. 3:10), heartily love Him, and live with Him in eternal blessedness, to praise and glorify Him (Ps. 8). Q.7 From where, then, does this depraved nature of man come? A. From the fall and disobedience of our first parents, Adam and Eve, in Paradise (Gen. 3), whereby our nature became so corrupt (Rom. 5:12, 18–19) that we are all conceived and born in sin (Ps. 14:2–3, 51:5). Q.8 But are we so depraved that we are completely incapable of any good and prone to all evil? A. Yes, unless we are born again by the Spirit of God (Gen. 6:5, 8:21; Job 14:4; Isa. 53:6 Jer. 17:9; Jn.3:6; Rom. 7:18; Jn. 3:3–5).

grace into a law. But it happens, and it happens in me more than I care to admit. But I want to encourage those of us with decidedly Calvinist passions to resist that temptation and the temptation to flee the “ungodly.” While the Reformed can never make evangelicalism their home,

they nonetheless have crucial gifts to bring to the civic center that the movement represents. God in his inscrutable providence has also allowed Wesleyans, Pentecostals, Anabaptists, and others still to buy homes in this neighborhood called Protestant Christianity! We each have gifts to share with one another in dialogue. The restless Calvinists offer many gifts, but three come to mind in this context. Bringing the mind to bear I think it fair to say that the Reformed tradition is more committed to the life of the mind than any other Protestant tradition. The movement began with a magisterial theological vision as outlined in The Institutes and has never repented of it! The Anabaptists were grounded in ethics, the Pietists in fervent prayer, and the Wesleyans with revival preaching. These days evangelicalism is thoroughly imbued with the spirituality of these movements—and these are great gifts. But it lacks one thing. In a previous generation, the heroes of the movement were the likes of Harold John Ockenga, Carl F. H. Henry, J. I. Packer, and John Stott—scholars who could communicate with a broad audience, or pastors who were scholars. Today our heroes are entrepreneurs, men and women who build institutions. As history has shown time and again, a church that forgets its theology soon finds itself without any. Saying what a thing is

hen transformation becomes your reason for existence, you are tempted to see transformation where it isn’t, and you fail to notice areas that remain bound in the chains of original sin. You fear not seeing transformation, because it might indict your faith. So you start spinning reality. Calvinists more than most recognize that as Christians we are simultaneously justified and sinners. As such, we are less tempted to spin things. We are not particularly fretful when we spot some new sin in our life, or see an old sin in deeper and uglier

“We can trust in Jesus not because he had a near-death experience, but because he was raised from the dead.” shades. We know we are not justified by our progress but by Christ’s death on the cross. In freedom, we can admit what a thing is. Returning to the s ource Many evangelicals have forgotten their first love, thus their first truth—Jesus Christ. Take for example The New York Times best-seller Heaven is for Real: A Little Boy’s Astounding Story of His Trip to Heaven and Back. Its popularity is based on its implicit epistemology: we can have confidence in the reality of heaven because of this little boy’s experience. It’s our experience—more than the testimony of Scripture or, more centrally, the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ— that validates our faith. Instead, Calvinists can remind evangelicals that we believe in heaven not because this little boy said so, but because Jesus said so. We can trust in Jesus not because he had a near-death experience, but because he was raised from the dead. In some ways, this is a desperate hour for American evangelicalism. Without a quick infusion of robust and realistic theology grounded in the work of Christ, I fear we will soon enough be gasping for air. But there are the “young, restless, and Reformed,” who I suspect are up to being good neighbors.

Mark Galli is senior managing editor of Christianity Today. He is the author of many books, most recently, Chaos and Grace: Discovering the Liberating Power of the Holy Spirit (Baker Academic, 2011).

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The 5 Th AnnuAl Mockingbird confe rence

Clear Eyes, Full Hearts: Honesty, Humility and the Grace of God

April 19-21, 2012 St. Georgeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Church New York City

Keynote SpeAKer: Michael Horton Additional Speakers include: Aaron Zimmerman and David Zahl of Mockingbird

For more details as they develop, or to pre-register, go to conference.mbird.com

noW AVAilAble!

The Merciful Impasse: The Sermon on the Mount for Those Whoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve Crashed (and Burned) and This American Gospel: A Companion to the NPR Series.

MOCKINGBIRD MINISTRIES Mockingbird Ministries seeks to connect the Christian faith with the realities of everyday life in fresh and accessible ways. We do this primarily, but not exclusively, via publications, conferences, and online resources. www.mbird.com

book reviews 52

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book reviews

finish strong

Rethinking Retirement: Finishing Life for the Glory of Christ By John Piper Crossway, 2009 32 pages (paperback), $2.99

Leisureville: Adventures in a World Without Children By Andrew D. Blechman Grove Press, 2009 256 pages (paperback), $15.00

ecently spotted on a teenager: a Nike Tshirt sporting the slogan, “There is no finish line.” The phrase comes from the headline off a poster seen in the background of one of Nike’s earliest “Just Do It” commercials, circa 1991. The poster itself was very popular at the time, functioning as a marketing manifesto celebrating the “mystical experience” of running. Two decades later, the message now displayed on the chest of this young man expresses a view of life embraced by countless others: There is no finish line. It’s a lie, of course, the denial of life’s race—the good race. A race assumes a final stretch. But to acknowledge that final stretch, the concluding context in which all running (or any doing) takes place, is something humans desperately wish to avoid. We do not like to admit that all our living is done in the context of dying. We want no finish line. John Piper’s small booklet (it runs less than 5,000 total words), Rethinking Retirement: Finishing Life for the Glory of Christ, addresses the denial of this race. Piper implores Christians to resist “the typical American dream of retirement” and the “bad ideas” that “this world offers us for our retirement years.” He maintains that retirement should “not mainly be the fight to do, but the fight to delight.” Rather than striving to find things to do, it’s a call to be found in Christ.

The message is one to be taken most seriously, lest being part of the Great Commission becomes the great omission of a Christian’s final years. And it’s an issue that our churches should take up and formally address, particularly those congregations that i nc l ude m e mb e rs numb e re d among the nearly 80 million Boomers who, as a youth-fixated generation, are prone to deny being in the final stretch of anything. Indeed, without gospel-driven instruction about a biblical view of perseverance, many are likely to take their retirement cues from the wisdom of the world. Piper’s missive here serves as a warning cry to the church as Boomers come into traditional retirement age. (As Piper points out, every day over 10,000 Boomers turn sixty years of age.) Piper puts his finger on the motivating force in the world’s approach to retirement: without belief in the city of pure gold (Rev. 20:18), the golden years become “the world’s substitute for heaven”; without knowing God as our very great reward (Gen. 15:1), people think “we must reward ourselves now in this life.” Not seen as part of a race (with an approaching finish), retirement instead becomes one big wishful-thinking party (with an unending supply of wine and other carnal spirits). It’s a mind-set so powerfully prevalent in our culture that it’s embraced even by those (Boomers) who claim to have no interest in retirement per se. For such individuals, no “retirement” is going to put a drag on the pursuit of earthly pleasures in their well-earned life after life. Yet this active lifestyle is no less a denial of the final mile; it’s merely a substitute banner for the world’s substitute for heaven. Of course, this substitute heaven is really a substitute hell—a reality that becomes richly apparent when pairing Piper’s booklet with a reading of Andrew D. Blechman’s Leisureville: Adventures in a World Without Children. Blechman took to studying a place called The Villages when one of his New England neighbors decided

to retire to this Florida resort. The book reads like a novel as Blechman details the lives of those occupying the world’s largest gated retirement community. Located some forty miles northwest of Orlando, the “gated geritopia” covers over 20,000 acres of land (about the same area as Walt Disney World) and is home to nearly 100,000 residents and almost 100 miles of golf cart paths. A plethora of pathetic characters colorfully animates the book’s pages, most notably “Mr. Midnight,” who earns his name from his exploits at Katie Belle’s, a nearby singles bar, and the resulting trysts back in his bachelor pad at the resort. As Blechman recounts the details of various other sordid lives, one begins to realize that The Villages is not your grandfather’s old moldy senior center. It’s a new quest for an eternal Spring Break with overage drinking in a fountain of youth. It’s a place to pull out childish things and try on different selves regrettably absent in one’s younger (better behaved) years. As one female resident told Blechman, “You can be anyone you want to be here”— a mantra for seniors playing Make Believe. Most striking in Blechman’s telling of his adventures in this retirem e n t u t o p i a ( o r “ p a ra d i s e o f pleasure” as Mr. Midnight likes to call the place) are the points of comparison between this faux heaven and true heaven. Both places house many mansions within their gates, but the similarities end there. As a fifty-five years and older community, there are no children in The Villages. How unlike the City of Truth depicted in Zechariah, where “men and women of ripe old age” find themselves in streets “filled with boys and girls playing there” (Zech. 8:4–5 NIV). In The Villages, the only things found in the streets are golf carts, untold numbers of golf carts. For in The Villages there is the offer of “Free Golf.” And there’s bingo! One night Blechman ventures into the bowels of the resort’s recreation center, where the largest room plays host to bingo games. The action “attracts a tough crowd” amid which Blechman finds “nobody shows the slightest interest in helping me find a seat,” and “countless bingo games later, I’m bored and exhausted, and my

nerves are frayed.” The room is so “absolutely silent” that Blechman can actually hear the tumble of the ping-pong balls from the very back of the room. The silence is broken only by the periodic yell of “Bingo!” from some sole winner and the groaning that follows from all the disappointed competitors. How far removed is this scene from “how the heavenly anthem drowns all music but its own.” In reading Blechman’s tales, one cannot help but view the residents of The Villages as trapped, enslaved by their retirement years. And yet, as one resident relays to Blechman, “A lot of these folks feel a need to keep ‘doing.’” It’s a picture of works righteousness caught in the snare of the American dream of retirement: Do this and you shall live! Leisureville thus provides an invaluable companion to Piper’s call to rethink retirement. While Piper straightforwardly presents his own exemplary cast of characters—missionary Raymond L u l l , m a r t y r Po l y c a r p, p a s t o r Charles Simeon, and author J. Oswald Sanders—to illustrate how to live one’s final days for the glory of Christ, it is Blechman’s detailed reporting of the empty, lonesome, and essentially useless lives wasting away in Leisureville that makes the most compelling case to accept Piper’s reproof to “live dangerously for the one who loved you and died for you in his thirties.” Don’t think Christians can fall prey to the enticements of this wasteaway retirement? Wonder if Piper is blowing a futile horn? Read Leisureville and you may find yourself compelled to provide everyone you know approaching midlife with a copy of Piper’s pocket-sized book. You might even be inclined to hop online to order a customized T-shirt bearing these words: “There is a finish line.” Do read these two books. And may God grant us all the strength to finish strong.

James H. Gilmore is author of The Experience Economy: Updated Edition (Harvard Business Review Press, 2011) and Authenticity: What Consumers Really Want (Harvard Business School Press, 2007), as well as a visiting lecturer in apologetics at Westminster Seminary California.

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book reviews

Calvin’s Ladder: A Spiritual Theology of Ascent and Ascension By Julie Canlis Eerdmans, 2010 336 pages (paperback), $32.00

articipation is one of the hottest buzzwords in theology today. Theologians from virtually every church tradition have begun speaking of human participation in the divine life or divine nature, and they have employed this kind of language by drawing frequently from patristic and Eastern resources. While the legal and forensic language so often employed in Western theology is believed to imply a cold and distant relation between the redeemed and the Redeemer, the imagery of participation or union is seen as promising a warmer and more inviting portrait of God’s relation to his people. John Calvin has not been a major player in this conversation, that is until now. But that’s not surprising. He was a Protestant leader and, worse yet, a former lawyer. Perhaps we could be forgiven for expecting very little from him by way of warm and intimate language about salvation; we might think he would stray only rarely from the terminology of “debt,” “payment,” “crediting,” and the like. Furthermore, Calvinists are frequently viewed as being focused on the objective work of Christ to the exclusion of the Spirit’s life-giving mission. But Julie Canlis reminds us what we should have known all along in her remarkable book, Calvin’s Ladder: John Calvin did affirm the importance of the legal and forensic, but he only affirmed such theological reflection within the context of God’s covenantal relationship with his people. Indeed, as her subtitle says, Calvin did offer “A Spiritual Theology of Ascent and Ascension.” Further, she highlights that this is a spiritual theology, because the Holy Spirit has a fully operative role in Calvin’s theology of both Christ’s ascension and our ascent in him.

Whether or not one is predisposed to the Reformed approach of Calvin, Calvin’s Ladder is a helpful book. It puts the lie to so many theological myths about the Protestant tradition fueled by Calvin. Specifically, it shows that Calvin’s theology accents the divine without negating the human. As Canlis says, “What is rarely seen is that Calvin’s genius is not in his separation of divine and human but in the way he distinguishes them in order to relate them properly. Their classification is for communion” (62). Of course, Canlis is not the first to point this out. Indeed, there have been those who have held on to this truth within the Reformed and Protestant world throughout the centuries—the Westminster Confession of Faith’s treatment of our “adoption” in Christ being one example—and Canlis joins a host of scholars today trying to highlight these moves within the tradition. The structure of Calvin’s Ladder is straightforward. Canlis begins by offering historical background focused on ladders of ascent to God in Platonism and in Christian engagements by Origen, Augustine, and Aquinas. Then she turns to Calvin, considering his teaching on creation, Christ, and the Holy Spirit. She compares Irenaeus to Calvin, covering much of the same terrain. Finally, she concludes with a historical summary and constructive proposal. The outline is well constructed, the arguments largely successful, and the spiritual vision compelling. Her analysis of Calvin moves in three stages, each aligned to the stanzas of the creedal tradition: creation, Christ, and Spirit. Indeed, the very fact that she addresses creation as the “ground and grammar of ascent” is especially helpful, rather than trying to jump precipitously into Christology and pneumatology. Perhaps most fruitful is the way she highlights Calvin’s emphasis that the descent of the Son—incarnation, life, suffering, death, and descent—must be matched by his ascent. Christ’s work on Calvary, as well as the redemption he worked throughout his life, was for the sake of

taking redeemed humanity to the Father’s throne. There is a twofold grace in Calvin’s theology: the justifying work accomplished in the descent, as well as the sanctifying work applied by the Ascended One. The human ascent up the ladder then “is thus characterized not so much by privatized obedience; rather, it is our participation in Jesus’ ‘return’ to the Father. Calvin’s greatest contribution here is his insistence that the Christian life (ascent) is not merely a response to Christ’s descent. Grace includes our response” (252). Her analysis of Irenaeus begins with his doctrine of creation, fashioned in battle with the Gnostics. Irenaeus—like the Reformed tradition—maintains a distinction between Creator and creature (184, 188). Irenaeus focuses on the work of Christ in fulfilling the creation mandate to “be fruitful and multiply” by bringing many sons and daughters to the glory of God’s presence (202). Jesus ascends to heaven and brings his redeemed with him; indeed, he brings embodied beings with him, so that the ascension of Jesus “was not the ultimate rejection of the material world but its validation as the reinstated home of the Spirit” (203). For Irenaeus, God descends to us, and then God takes us up in ascent to him. The historical synopsis is well stated in that Irenaeus and Calvin are placed together in a broader tradition of thinkers who employ participation language to express the relation between the believer and the historical Son of God (18), albeit it with different nuances and emphases. Historically, Calvin and Irenaeus affirm the idea of ascent with different polemical concerns in mind: Irenaeus against the Gnostic denial of humanity’s dignity as such, and Calvin against the humanists and their exaltation of the creature. Her constructive argument follows suit and is clearly stated: “Participation in God thus functions as a threat neither to our creatureliness nor to the Creator’s divinity, but it is the very means by which the creation becomes itself” (228). She employs Calvin and Irenaeus as resources in this argument, even while noting some key differences in how they construe our communion with God (241). Canlis concludes by listing a number of lingering problems in Reformed spirituality that might be aided by reflection on participation in the vein of Irenaeus and Calvin, such as perspectives on the arts, social justice, individualism, the sacraments, and other issues. Some concerns do arise about Canlis’s proposal, however, and a number of historical and theological

quibbles could be mentioned: on predestination (235, footnote 15), regarding the relationship of Calvin to substance metaphysics (14), whether “endowment metaphysics” can really be contrasted straightforwardly with “a metaphysics of relationship” (72), on the validity of the Finnish school interpretation of Luther (73, footnote 84, and elsewhere), the absence of focus upon the Word alongside the Eucharist (note its absence in chapter 4), whether adequate attention is given to the order and relationship of justification and adoption (133), and other such issues. But one question in particular is worth highlighting: Why participation and not fellowship or communion? Has Canlis really provided a helpful analysis of how best to translate the New Testament term koinōnia as well as the variety of “in Christ” language employed by Paul? She readily admits that there are terribly problematic notions of participation constantly being battled and critiqued by Irenaeus, Origen, Augustine, Aquinas, and Calvin (she also suggests that Calvin occasionally sounds more Platonic than Pauline; see 102). One is left with the prudential question: Why not opt for a low-level term such as “fellowship” (not so frequently identified with other popular philosophical and ontological schemes), and then fill it out with meaning shaped by the gospel? Why fight so hard for a term, “participation,” that’s not even explicitly in the Bible or in the creedal tradition? Furthermore, the term “participation” seems to be used vaguely and stands in for a number of wide-ranging ideas. It is unfair to say that Canlis undercuts the Creator/creature distinction, but I do wonder if her approach is strategically unwise. To really show how (and not just that) the Creator/creature distinction is being maintained, I think much greater clarification regarding the precise meaning of participation is required. But I would suggest that Canlis might consider jettisoning that term and seek to unpack her better insights by means of other language, such as union, fellowship, and covenant. No doubt, these terms can be misinterpreted in ways foreign or even be repugnant to the gospel, but I do not see any of them being quite as loaded as “participation.” One of the great challenges of theological reflection is appreciating the order, connections, and proportions of various topics in the Bible and in the Christian tradition. In our many (necessary) battles regarding the juridical aspects of Christ’s work, we can easily forget the telos of such work, namely, that ModernReformation.org

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we are forgiven for fellowship and justified for adoption. Indeed, the very ascension of Jesus Christ to the Father’s right hand is our life and our hope, for that is where God is and where we shall be in him. Julie Canlis reminds us of this truth so central to the gospel. As John Calvin said in his comments on 1 John 2:5, the “end of the gospel [is] to hold communion with God.”

Michael Allen (PhD, Wheaton College) is assistant professor of systematic theology at Knox Theological Seminary in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, and author of The Christ’s Faith: A Dogmatic Account (T & T Clark, 2009) and Reformed Theology (T & T Clark, 2010).

Why Johnny Can’t Sing Hymns: How Pop Culture Rewrote the Hymnal By T. David Gordon P&R Publishing, 2010 192 pages (paperback), $12.99

David Gordon (PhD, Union Theological Seminary in Virginia) is professor of religion and Greek at Grove City College, where he also teaches courses in the humanities and in media ecology. As a media ecologist, Gordon approaches the subject of this present volume intentionally as a sequel to his similarly titled Why Johnny Can’t Preach: The Media Have Shaped the Messengers (P&R, 2009), thus also bearing an indebtedness to Rudolf Flesch. In the earlier work, Gordon argued that the construction, delivery, and reception of sermons had been negatively affected by the “sound-bite” culture of the present day. He takes a similar approach here to the subject of music in worship, positing that not only the form and content but also the pervasiveness of popular music have rendered many worshipers unable to sing or appreciate the Psalms or the “traditional” great hymns sung by previous

generations of Christians. He says in the preface, “We are surrounded by nearly ubiquitous pop music—so much so that nothing else really registers in our consciousness as music. If it is not accompanied by a guitar, if it is not accompanied by the predictable melodies and rhythms of pop culture, it just doesn’t seem like music” (14). By identifying and responding to this particular problem, Gordon has added a helpful and heretofore largely missing element to the discussion of worship music. Gordon’s presentation of the difficulties associated with contemporary worship music is thorough and insightful. While he does repeat common arguments that this music is inferior to older hymns and psalm settings both musically and textually (134–35), he devotes more space to discussing concerns that are sociological or, as Gordon puts it, media-ecological in nature. These concerns include the lack of serious consideration promoted by commercial-sounding music (26) and the exaltation of contemporaneity as a desirable quality in itself (103), both nonverbal “meta-messages” that are “contrary to the interests and values of the Christian faith” (65–66). In the introductory matter of the book—which fills nearly a third of the total length as he explains his media-ecological approach to the subject—Gordon discusses the effects of the rise of commercial and “background” music upon people’s consideration of and approach to music. Because “commerce desires that both its commercial messages and the programming around it be consumed without critical thought” (26), those whose musical tastes are primarily commercial or popular begin to regard music as “‘merely’ music, and… not a thing to be rigorously studied” (33). Gordon observes that this same attitude with regard to music has infiltrated the church, and counters strongly, “To treat the house of God or its activities as insignificant or unworthy of serious Christian reflection, or to treat worship song as though it were nothing more than a matter of amusement or

entertainment to be governed by personal preference, is to disregard or disagree with the teachings of the Holy Scriptures regarding both” (35). Gordon’s treatment of “Contemporaneity as a Value” (103) grows out of his concerns regarding commercialism. He writes, “Commerce requires consumers to consume; and commerce manipulates consumption by creating a false sense of dissatisfaction with the old, so that individuals long for something newer” (106). Such commercialism, combined with rapid technological change and philosophical perspectives such as progressivism that suggest “that human history is inexorably moving forward” (114– 15), leaves society in a condition in which “anything not contemporary seems odd, quaint, antiquated, outdated, or foreign” (119). Gordon rejects such attitudes as un-Christian, contrasting them with Scripture passages that place value upon what is ancient and traditional. He then concludes, “If contemporaneity is inconsistent with Christianity, if its dismissal of the past is inconsistent with what the Scriptures teach, then the question sharpens: not only is it not necessary or preferable for worship song to sound contemporary, it is a positive liability” (123). Conservatives and Protestants of many persuasions will find much to appreciate in these arguments. Gordon’s analysis of “how we got where we are now” (179), with contemporary forms overtaking the worship music in many churches, is as thorough as one can achieve in a short volume. Scripture teaches that God takes his worship very seriously (Deut. 12:32, Lev. 10:1–3); thus Gordon’s suspicion of commercialsounding music as a force that undermines seriousness regarding an element of worship is well taken. Gordon is also quite right to emphatically reject modern society’s exaltation of contemporaneity. After all, in Scripture the young are commanded to reverence the old (Lev. 19:32, Prov. 16:31), in contrast to the modern tendency to demand that the old cater to the fleeting tastes and desires of young people. Discussing the relative virtues of traditional and contemporary musical forms from a sociological (or “media-ecological”) perspective is easy enough; defining from a musical perspective just what is “traditional” and what is “contemporary” is more difficult, and Gordon is perhaps weakest at this point. He essentially assumes that the reader knows what contemporary popular music sounds like (given its ubiquity, this might be a safe assumption), though he does

frequently single out the guitar as a central feature of such music and, in his opinion, an inappropriate instrument for accompanying public worship. Gordon spends a bit more time delineating characteristics of the “traditional” music to which he desires the church to return. He praises the Psalms as the best textual model for all hymnody (48), and speaks approvingly of church music rooted in “high/classical music” (83) and “folk music” (87). He further identifies qualities that he believes should characterize music sung in churches and that he claims (without citation) are among “the criteria that previous hymns had to meet to get into the hymnals” (47). These include: ➨ Theologically orthodox lyrics ➨ Theologically significant lyrics ➨ Literarily apt and thoughtful lyrics ➨ Lyrics and music appropriate to a meeting between God and his visible people ➨ Well-written music with regard to melody, harmony, rhythm, and form ➨ Musical setting appropriate to the musical content On the whole, these criteria are somewhat subjective, and in the end the reader is left thinking that, as with “contemporary” music, Gordon simply assumes the reader knows what he means when he speaks of “traditional” worship music. While one might have desired greater specificity on Gordon’s part in identifying the music he seeks to promote, this use of broad categories does help him avoid the risk of defining “good church music” too narrowly, as well as that of implicitly making Western musical forms of the sixteenth through the nineteenth centuries normative for the church in all locations. That said, Gordon clearly writes with a Western—and particularly North American—audience in mind, and his categories might have to be reworked in order for his arguments to be applicable in other contexts. Explication of the problems introduced by contemporary worship music is Gordon’s main objective, not offering solutions. The resulting lack of instruction on how to apply the ideas discussed in the book is an additional weakness. Gordon attempts “an abbreviated defense of the value of traditional musical forms” (16) and suggests strategies for reintroducing older hymns and psalm settings into churches in the final chapter, but for the most part he leaves readers to construct their ModernReformation.org

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own solutions to the difficulties presented by contemporary music invading their churches. While believers from different traditions will agree with Gordon’s diagnosis of the problems with contemporary worship music, his objective of returning to a more traditional hymnody and psalmody will not be satisfying to all. Advocates of exclusive psalmody, with or without instrumental accompaniment, might argue that Gordon does not go far enough in his rejection of contemporary music, wishing that he had argued for jettisoning not only contemporary songs but also all noninspired hymnody. Others might think Gordon “paints with too broad a brush,” rejecting sounder elements of contemporary music along with those that are correctly identified as unsound. While Gordon does welcome the composition of new hymns—he refers approvingly to those of E. Margaret Clarkson (1915–2008) and James Montgomery Boice (1938–2000) (56)—he has no favorable regard for worship music composed in styles any way reminiscent of modern commercial/popular mass culture. Some will disagree with Gordon’s wholesale rejection of contemporary music, but he has grounded this rejection in thorough scriptural and cultural reasoning. Why Johnny Can’t Sing Hymns is a welcome addition to the literature concerning the use of music in God’s worship. T. David Gordon’s identification of the musical and especially the sociocultural difficulties associated with contemporary worship music is expertly presented and brings a welcome perspective to the discussion that merits serious consideration. Those who have been troubled by the new, pop cultureinfluenced worship music, but have been unsure how to voice or even think about their concerns, will find much helpful material here. Perhaps then, since Gordon is less thorough in this regard, they will be able to construct and articulate clear solutions to these difficulties.

Micah Everett is associate professor of music at the University of Louisiana at Monroe. He and his family are members of Calhoun Presbyterian Church (ARP) in Calhoun, Louisiana.

The Case for Books: Past, Present, and Future By Robert Darnton PublicAffairs, 2012 256 pages (paperback), $11.00

he reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.” This quote and ones similar to it have been attributed to Mark Twain, but may just as well be a quote from book publishers and libraries today. That is, at least, the contention of Robert Darnton in his book, The Case for Books: Past, Present, and Future. Darnton, university professor and director of the library at Harvard University, argues for the enduring value of print books, but he is no mere librarian singing to the choir of book lovers. He has spent much of his academic career as a groundbreaking historian of eighteenth-century France and specifically of book publishing during that period. His work as a historian also included a stint as president of the American Historical Association, and he contributed to the launching of two publishing projects. His academic career has been varied and fruitful, and it enables him to come to his subject with a unique perspective. In The Case for Books, Darnton offers a collection of previously published essays, arranged in three sections, beginning with a section on the future of books. It is in this first section that we discover the main question for readers’ consideration, the one nearly every book lover and librarian is asking: What is the future of the printed book? Darnton tells us that when he began working at Harvard he was immediately thrust into the center of the debate, namely, Google’s desire to digitize millions of books. Some see Google’s pursuit as an apocalyptic end to all print books. Others see Google’s efforts as the dawn of a new age of information resource. Darnton introduces Google’s project, the Google Book Search, by explaining with relative simplicity the complicated subject of the lawsuit brought against Google by publishers and authors and its ongoing settlement. Having placed the digitization discussion within its current legal context, Darnton offers a via media approach to the future of

bound books. They are not going away, at least not any time soon. His proof ? Darnton says that we should review the history of communication paradigm shifts. (Throughout Darnton employs a historical method: look into the past in order to make sense of the present and to consider the future.) “Any attempt to see into the future while struggling with problems in the present should be informed, I believe, by studying the past” (xii). One new medium of communication never completely replaces another. “Television did not destroy the radio,” Darnton reminds us. The codex has been around a long time, and there are indications that it will remain for some time as well. Case in point, bound book sales are at all time highs. But Darnton is no enemy of the digital world either. He is not entrenched in a “print books only” mentality. He is a self-described “Google enthusiast.” He writes, “Although I worry about its monopolistic tendencies, I believe Google Book Search really will make book learning accessible on a new, worldwide scale, despite the great digital divide that separates the poor from the computerized” (33). Google’s efforts will be far-reaching and maybe overreaching, but Darnton is willing to accept the risks associated with such a massive project, because he believes there are enough safeguards in place to protect against the threat of a Google Book Search monopoly. There are other fascinating topics related to the books Darnton surveys. Chapter 8, “A Paean to Paper,” is a review essay of Nicholson Baker’s Double Fold. Baker argues that within the past two decades “libraries have purged their shelves of newspapers… because they are driven by a misguided obsession about saving space” (110). Many readers may not be aware of this activity, and Darnton provides a helpful summary to Baker’s “jeremiad.” While he questions some of Baker’s analysis, Darnton tends to agree with Baker’s conclusions. The essay is another argument for the preservation of not only bound books but newspapers as well, since both provide unique windows into history. Chapter 9, “The Importance of Being Bibliographical,” is a fine example of the kind of historical analysis that Darnton employs in order to grapple

with the perplexing questions of today. He reviews some of the most important bibliographic work in the last century conducted on select works of Shakespeare in order to demonstrate the complex world of book printing in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries—the scholarship of Shakespearean bibliographers from the past century “have transformed our knowledge of how the first printed books were published” (148). Because of their work, Darnton reminds Google’s current users that a digital edition of an early or first edition book on the Google Book Search may be only one of many variant editions that were published, and cautions users against making rash textual conclusions based upon one electronic edition. Darnton is demonstrating that the Google Book Search has its limitations and therefore bound books are necessary. Chapter 10 is an outstanding essay on commonplace books; it makes the same case and is worth a read. The prospective reader should not expect this book to have a narrative flow. The “future, present, and past” structure arbitrarily organizes these previously published essays into a book format and does not necessarily contribute to a unifying, logical argument. One consequence of publishing previous essays is that Darnton covers similar ground in a couple of essays (the introductory essay “Google and the New Digital Future” and the first two chapters include some repetitive information about Google’s project and objectives). Nevertheless, Darnton accomplishes his purpose of offering “an unashamed apology for the printed word, past, present, and future” (vii). For those of us who are confronted on a regular basis with exaggerated claims that books and libraries are dying and that book lovers must “re-imagine” a brave new world without printed books, Darnton offers sane, sober counsel. Books may not command the same authority as in the past, but they remain dominant players and will very likely never go away.

John Bales is an ordained minister and has served Reformed churches for twenty years in Washington, Wisconsin, and California. He is currently serving in the library at Westminster Seminary California.

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geek s quad

a m y r a l d i a n i sm

term I have found to be in more and more regular use in Reformed circles is “Amyraldianism.” I have a suspicion that it is one of those terms, like “supra-“ or “infra-lapsarian” or “realized eschatology,” that sounds hip to the ears of a certain type of theological geek, even though its exact meaning may not be understood at all. After all, never mind the theological depth, feel the vocabulary... Now, most people familiar with Reformed theology or Calvinism are aware of the famous five points and their acronym “TULIP”: total depravity, unconditional election, limited atonement, irresistible grace, and perseverance of the saints. Many will also know that, of these five points, the “L”—limited atonement—is by far the most controversial. The idea that Christ died only for the elect seems to fly in the face of texts in the Bible that speak of God’s universal love, and also makes evangelistic preaching, if not evangelism itself, that much harder. This has led many in the Reformed world to declare themselves as “four-point Calvinists.” Many of these four-pointers also like to refer to themselves as Amyraldians, meaning that they believe in an unlimited atonement, at least in terms of its original, narrow intention, whatever the ultimate application of the same might be. It is

here that a careful handling of terms is necessary. At the start of the seventeenth century, there were those in the Reformed world who believed firmly in election but also believed in the universal saving intention of Christ’s death. John Davenant, an English delegate to the Synod of Dort, was one such character. This theology was not developed in any highly elaborate way; such theologians were by and large comfortable with asserting a universal will to save in the atonement alongside a more restricted will to save in terms of God’s election. Later that same century, a form of theology was developed at the School of Saumur in France under the leadership of Moses Amyraut and the Scotsman, John Cameron. These men also argued for a universal intention to save in the atonement, but they developed this in the context of sophisticated discussion of God’s eternal covenants.

To understand their innovation, it is useful to be reminded of the position of Reformed Orthodox theologians such as John Owen. Owen saw God’s decree to elect as logically prior to his decree to appoint Christ as mediator. In other words, the nature of the decree that established Christ as mediator was determined by the logically prior decree to save some and not others (remember: there is no time in God; this ordering is logical, not chronological). For the Amyraldians, the order was reversed: Christ was first appointed as mediator, and then God decided to elect some and not others. Thus the scope of Christ’s mediation was not determined by the particularism of the decree of election. In other words, for Amyraldians it is not simply that they believe in a universal atonement; they build this on a very careful fine tooling of the divine decrees. This is not the type of Calvinism that cries, “But that’s just not fair!” The question then arises: Where does the particularism manifest itself in the order of salvation? For Amyraldians, it was in a division in the work of Christ as priest. He died for all; he intercedes only for the elect. Two things should be noted as a result of this. First, the belief of some who are Calvinistic that Christ died for all is not necessarily Amyraldian.

Unless it is tied to a sophisticated reconstruction of the eternal covenants and their implications, it is perhaps better referred to with a more general term such as “hypothetical universalism.” Second, Amyraldianism does not really solve at least one of the problems that some of its modern advocates, such as R. T. Kendall, claim for it. The claim is that Amyraldian views of atonement allow the evangelist or the pastor to say to the people in an unequivocal way that then undergirds both evangelism and assurance, “Christ died for you!” Anyone who understands the Amyraldian scheme, however, is not going to be impressed by such an answer; what they will really want to know is whether Christ is interceding for them. The problem of limitation has simply been shifted from Calvary to the right hand of God the Father. One last point: although the Reformed Orthodox disagreed with the Amyraldians on this point and even regarded it as a serious error, they still considered them to be brothers and sisters in the faith.

reformed

amyraldian

Carl R. Trueman is professor of historical theology and church history at Westminster Theological Seminary in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

For All

The SUFFICIENCY of the Atonement

For All

Limited

The EXTENT of the Atonement

Unlimited

The EFFICACY of that Atonement

Limited

Reformed = Christ’s death is sufficient for all, but its extent is definite and for the elect only. The effectiveness of Christ’s death is unlimited and absolute.

Amyraldianism = Christ’s death is sufficient for all and its extent is unlimited (thus hypothetically universal). But in its efficacy, Christ’s death is limited to the elect only.

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g et t i n g pa s t th e TULIP by michael s. horton

Engraving by Pierre-Joseph Redoute, Published in Choix Des Plus Belles Fleurs, Paris (1827)

ust as Luther’s followers preferred to be called “evangelicals” but were labeled “Lutherans” by Rome, around 1558 Lutherans coined the term “Calvinist” for those who held Calvin’s view of the Supper over against both Zwingli and Luther. Despite selfchosen labels such as “evangelical” and “Reformed” (preferred because the aim was always to reform the catholic church rather than start a new one), “Calvinism” unfortunately stuck as a popular nickname. No Central Dogma

ontrary to popular misconception, Calvin did not in fact differ from the average Augustinian theologian, either in the substance or the importance of his doctrine of predestination. As for the content of the teaching, Calvin’s view of predestination was the traditional Augustinian view, affirmed even by Thomas Aquinas. Luther’s mentor, Johann von Staupitz, wrote a treatise (On Eternal Predestination) defending all of the doctrines known later as the “five points.” As for centrality in Calvin’s preaching, one looks in vain for predestination in his Geneva Catechism. Just as Luther’s strong defense of predestination in The Bondage of the Will was provoked by Erasmus’s Freedom of the Will, Calvin’s lengthy discussions of the subject were responses to critics. As important as predestination was in the thinking of the Reformers, it was not a central dogma from which all other doctrines were developed. In fact, the Belgic Confession devotes one long sentence (in English translation at least) to election, while its only mention in the Heidelberg Catechism is under “the holy catholic church” as “a community chosen for eternal life and united in true faith.” As we have seen in this issue, even what we know as the “five points of Calvinism” emerged as a response to internal challenges. Jacob Arminius (1560–1609) and his followers mounted a campaign against the Reformed consensus. The Arminian Articles of Remonstrance affirmed total depravity, but rejected unconditional election and particular redemption. The articles also made regeneration dependent on human decision and affirmed the possibility of losing salvation. In response, the Reformed Church called the

Synod of Dort (1618–19). Not only a national synod, it included representatives from the Church of England, the Church of Scotland, and other Reformed bodies in Hungary, Poland, Switzerland, and elsewhere. (Even the Patriarch of Constantinople, Cyril Lucaris, made the Canons of Dort part of the Orthodox Church’s confession, although he was assassinated and Orthodoxy subsequently condemned Calvinism.) The result was a clear statement of Reformed unity on the doctrines of sin and grace, known as the Canons of the Synod of Dort—or the Five Articles against the Remonstrants. Each canon states the Reformed view positively and then repudiates the corresponding Arminian error. The Canons of Dort are part of the Reformed confession, and its substance was incorporated into the Westminster Confession and Catechisms in the mid-seventeenth century. “TULIP”

he clever “TULIP” acronym (total depravity, unconditional election, limited atonement, irresistible grace, perseverance of the saints) seems to have first appeared early in the twentieth century in the United States, and its aptness can be challenged. Since the Reformed view teaches that Christ actually saved all for whom he died (rather than merely making salvation possible), “limited atonement” is not the best term. Furthermore, the Canons of Dort labor the point that our will is not coerced or forced, so “irresistible grace” is not as good as the traditional terms such as “effectual calling” and “regeneration.” But it’s hard to find a good flower for a more accurate acronym. It’s always better to read a confession than to ModernReformation.org

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reduce it to a clever device. One finds in the Canons of Dort an abundant appeal to specific scriptural passages—not merely proof-texting, but demonstrating how dependent the argument itself is upon the passages selected. These five points do not summarize the whole teaching of Reformed theology, but they certainly are essential to its faith and practice. Summarizing Dort

First Head of Doctrine:

Divine Election and Reprobation

ll share in Adam’s guilt and corruption, and God would be just to leave all to perish in their sins. Nevertheless, God sent his Son to save all who believe and sends messengers with his gospel. That many do believe is credited solely to God’s grace in Christ and by his Spirit, through the gospel, in granting faith. Unbelievers have only themselves to blame. God decreed to grant faith from all eternity and in time actively softens the hearts of his elect and inclines them to trust in Christ, “while He leaves the non-elect in His just judgment to their own wickedness and obduracy.” Election is unconditional, based only on God’s free mercy, not on anything in or foreseen in sinners. (Indeed, what would he have foreseen apart from his gift?) To this end, the Father “appointed [Christ] the Mediator and Head of the elect and the foundation of salvation,” and in due course calls, justifies, sanctifies, and glorifies them. The elect are chosen out of the same mass of condemned sinners as the rest, out of sheer grace. So election and reprobation are free, but not arbitrary; those whom God chooses in his Son are as deserving of condemnation. This doctrine is not to encourage our “inquisitively prying into the secret and deep things of God,” much less a careless or carnal security, but to assure us of the certain foundation of God’s promise in the gospel. This truth should be explored by Scripture alone, “without vainly attempting to investigate the

secret ways of the Most High (Acts 20:27; Rom. 11:33, 34; 12:3; Heb 6:17, 18).” While the Triune God actively saves the elect, “others are passed by in the eternal decree,” left to their own misery. In this reprobation, God is simply acting as the just Judge who could have left all sinners to their own destruction. Weak believers should by no means struggle over whether they are reprobate but should receive the means of grace, “since a merciful God has promised that he will not quench the smoking flax, nor break the bruised reed.” In Article 17 we read that since Scripture teaches “that the children of believers are holy, not by nature, but in virtue of the covenant of grace, in which they together with the parents are comprehended, godly parents ought not to doubt the election and salvation of their children whom it pleases God to call out of this life in their infancy (Gen. 17:7; Acts 2:39; 1 Cor. 7:14).” Dort rejects the view that Scripture is silent or unclear on the question, much less that God’s electing grace is conditioned on our obedience or even faith, which itself is a gift. “For by this injurious error the pleasure of God and the merits of Christ are made of none effect, and men are drawn away by useless questions from the truth of gracious justification.” Also rejected is the Roman Catholic and Arminian belief that it is presumptuous to claim assurance of being elect, since all who trust in Christ are assured of their election. Second Head of Doctrine: The Death of Christ and the

Redemp tion of Men Thereby

he focus of this Head is on the efficacy of Christ’s work, which not only makes redemption possible but actually accomplishes it. According to these articles, God’s justice requires satisfaction. “Since, therefore, we are unable to make that satisfaction in our own persons, or to deliver ourselves from the wrath of God, He has been pleased of His infinite mercy to give His only begotten Son for our Surety, who was made sin, and became a curse for us and in our stead, that He

“like christ’s redeeming work, then, faith is not merely offered but is actually conferred, by sheer grace and without obligation to grant it.” might make satisfaction to divine justice on our behalf.” As God and human in one person, Christ alone is sufficient for all. His death “is of infinite worth and value, abundantly sufficient to expiate the sins of the whole world.” (This echoes a traditional medieval slogan: Christ’s death was “sufficient for the world, efficient for the elect alone.”) “Moreover, the promise of the gospel is that whosoever believes in Christ crucified shall not perish, but have eternal life.” Sufficient for all, the gospel is not just proclaimed to the elect (as if we knew who they were), but “to all nations, and to all persons promiscuously, and without distinction.” Just as the Father chose many (not all) to be saved and calls these to his Son by his Spirit, justifying, renewing, and keeping them to the end, Scripture also declares that the purpose of Christ’s death was to save his people entrusted to him before the foundation of the world. The gates of hell will not prevail against the church, therefore, since it is anchored in election and its “foundation was laid in the blood of Christ.” Consequently, the synod rejected the errors of those who teach that the Father sent the Son on no certain mission, but merely to make salvation possible for all, and “that it was not the purpose of the death of Christ that He should confirm the new covenant of grace through His blood, but only that He should acquire for the Father the mere right to establish with man such a covenant as he might please, whether of grace or of works.” This targeted especially the Arminian “moral government” theory, taught by Hugo Grotius, according to which Christ’s death was merely the basis on which God could offer salvation on easier terms than full satisfaction of his justice. Also rejected is the view “that

Christ by His satisfaction merited neither salvation itself for anyone, nor faith,” but “only the authority… to deal again with man and to prescribe new conditions, as He might desire, obedience to which, however, depended on the free will of man.” This is merely to “bring again out of hell the Pelagian error.” To drive in the last nail against this Arminian (and Socinian) position, the synod repudiated those who deny that Christ actually merited justification and all saving blessings by his perfect obedience to the whole law, and who instead teach that “God, having revoked the demand of perfect obedience,” now “regards faith itself and the obedience of faith, although imperfect, as the perfect obedience of the law, and does esteem it worthy of the reward of eternal life through grace.” Also rejected is the view that Christ’s death only saves by our act of “appropriating it,” rather than by its own efficacy. Third and Fourth Heads of Doctrine: The Corrup tion of Man, His Conversion

to God, and the Manner Thereof

reating original sin and regeneration in the same chapter, the articles affirm that human beings were created good and that man fell “by his own free will,” corrupting his excellent gifts. We became like Adam not by imitation, but by inheriting his guilt and corruption. Conceived in sin, dead and helpless, we cannot regenerate ourselves or even dispose ourselves to reformation. There are still remnants of a natural knowledge of God and civic morality, but this never rises to true faith and righteousness. [God’s law] reveals the greatness of sin, and more and more convinces man thereof, yet, as it neither points out a remedy nor imparts strength to extricate [us] from this misery, but, being weak through the flesh, leaves the transgressor under the curse, man cannot by this law obtain saving grace. What, therefore, neither the light of nature nor the law could do, that God performs by the operation of the Holy Spirit through the word or ministry of reconciliation; which is the glad tidings concerning the Messiah, by means whereof it has pleased God to save such as believe, as well under the Old as under the New Testament. ModernReformation.org

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In converting sinners to Christ, God “not only causes the gospel to be externally preached to them,” but also effectually regenerates his elect through that Word. Hence, regeneration is a spiritual resurrection from death. The will is not merely influenced by the Spirit and the pleadings of the gospel, but is liberated to unfailingly embrace Christ.

Like Christ’s redeeming work, then, faith is not merely offered but is actually conferred, by sheer grace and without any obligation to grant it. Nevertheless, this “grace of regeneration does not treat men as senseless stocks and blocks, nor take away their will and its properties, or do violence thereto; but it spiritually quickens, heals, corrects, and at the same time sweetly and

know what you believe

he early Dutch Arminians argued in favor of the doctrine of total depravity, affirming in the Third Article of the 1610 Articles of Remonstrance that humanity has no saving grace or energy of free will on its own, but that it must receive grace to be born again of God in Christ. In this affirmation,

Arminians and Calvinists were formally agreed. However, the very next article (the Fourth) of the Remonstrance went on to underscore the resistible nature of grace. This of course was a point the Calvinists staunchly denied in the Canons of Dort. Further, the debate about the resistibility of grace caused Calvinists at that time and ever since to wonder about the integrity of the Arminian affirmation of total depravity. If we are truly dead in our trespasses and sins, Calvinists argue, then resistible grace would never really accomplish anything, unless there is some virtue or ability inherent in us whereby some believe and others resist. But then, how total would our depravity really be? It was for this reason that the theologians at Dort joined the Third and Fourth Heads of Doctrine, arguing that sound, consistent, and most importantly biblical theology must affirm both total depravity and the effective and irresistible nature of God’s grace.

“Allegory of the theological dispute between the Arminianists and their opponents” by Abraham van der Eyk (1721)

powerfully bends it, that where carnal rebellion and resistance formerly prevailed, a ready and sincere spiritual obedience begins to reign; in which the true and spiritual restoration and freedom of our will consist.” The Rejection of Errors points out that we are born dead in sin, not merely weak or sick. Also rejected is the idea that we can ascend from the use of common (natural) virtues—free will and inward graces to saving grace—and that God’s regenerating grace is merely “a gentle advising” or wooing that depends on our free choice, and not a spiritual resurrection. Finally, the synod rejected the belief “that grace and free will are partial causes which together work the beginning of conversion”—which is commonly identified as “synergism.” Fifth Head of Doctrine:

Perseverance of the Saint s

ll of the elect, redeemed by the Son and called to Christ by the Spirit, are kept to the end, even though “the daily sins of infirmity and blemishes cleave even to the best works of the saints.” This causes us not to despair but “to flee for refuge to Christ crucified” and from that safe place to mortification of our sins and vivification in Christ. No one could persevere in grace “if left to their own strength,” but salvation depends on God’s faithfulness from beginning to end. Even “enormous sins,” such as those exhibited by David and Peter, cannot overturn God’s electing, redeeming, and regenerating work in Christ—although they disturb the conscience and our sense of God’s favor. God never lets us go “so far as to lose the grace of adoption and forfeit the state of justification, or to commit the sin unto death or against the Holy Spirit.” The foundation of this confidence is the Trinity, “since [the Father’s] counsel cannot be changed nor His promise fail; neither can the call according to His purpose be revoked, nor the merit, intercession, and preservation of Christ be rendered ineffectual, nor the sealing of the Holy Spirit be frustrated or obliterated.” Believers are assured of this salvation not by any private experience, but by the promise of the gospel to which the Spirit testifies inwardly. They indeed “struggle with various carnal doubts,” and

temptations beat away at “this full assurance of faith and certainty of persevering. But God, who is the Father of all consolation, does not suffer them to be tempted above what they are able.” This certainty, grounded in God’s promise, above and beyond our experience, doesn’t lead to pride or carnal security but is “an incentive to the serious and constant practice of gratitude and good works.” The means by which God strengthens our confidence in Christ are the preaching of the gospel and the sacraments. Rejected first is the error that this perseverance is “a condition of the new covenant,” dependent on our free will and obedience rather than “a fruit of election, or a gift of God gained by the death of Christ.” Also denied is the belief that God gives sufficient grace to persevere if only we cooperate with his grace, or that any of those regenerated and justified can lose their salvation or commit the unpardonable sin. The synod also rejected the view that the temporary “faith” of those who fall away (like the seed that falls on rocky soil) is the same as that true faith God gives to his elect. Finally, the canons reject the idea that anyone for whom Christ intercedes can be lost. In its conclusion Dort faces squarely perennial caricatures. These doctrines of grace do not lead to license or to a view of an arbitrary deity. Dort denies “that in the same manner in which the election is the foundation and cause of faith and good works, reprobation is the cause of unbelief and impiety.” In fact, this “the Reformed Churches not only do not acknowledge, but even detest with their whole soul.” The statement concludes with a caution to remain within the bounds of Scripture on these matters and a final prayer: May Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who, seated at the Father’s right hand, gives gifts to men, sanctify us in the truth; bring to the truth those who err; shut the mouths of the calumniators of sound doctrine, and endue the faithful ministers of his Word with the Spirit of wisdom and discretion, that all their discourses may tend to the glory of God, and the edification of those who hear them. Amen.

Michael S. Horton is editor-in-chief of Modern Reformation.

ModernReformation.org

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