Nightline on Satan, Chopra Exposed

Last night ABC's "Nightline" aired a forum recorded recently at Mars Hill Church discussing whether Satan is real. I'll leave the extensive analysis of Mark Driscoll's role to the people who weren't watching basketball games on their computer simultaneously, but I thought he set an engaging tone, proclaimed the gospel clearly, and directed back to Jesus that black hole of rational thought that is Deepak Chopra's stream of consciousness.

So on that Deepak Chopra note, I really want you to see a clip that absolutely cracked me up. You'll want to start listening when the guy in the red shirt starts talking, and you can stop when his words "thank you very much" introduce a little spark of absolute truth to ChopraWorld.

Horn and McLachlan on Ryken and Wells

If you listen to Sam Horn and Doug McLachlan's talks at Maranatha's Conference on Baptist Fundamentalism, you'll hear them lean heavily on the social and religious commentary of Philip Ryken and David Wells. These are both excellent talks. Horn discusses how much of both evangelicalism and fundamentalism have become servants of a culture, not shapers of it. McLachlan's point is that we've lost the centrality of the local church. I couldn't possibly agree more.

What I also appreciate about these talks is how Horn and McLachlan recognize what should be an obvious point--that Reformed, Calvinistic leaders are on the forefront of pointing out what makes these times uniquely precarious, not the fountainhead of it. Men like Horn, McLachlan, Ryken and Wells all seem to be part of the solution, not part of the problem.

Evangelicals and Fundamentalists Together . . . Against a Conservative Evangelical

There's been a bit of a flare-up in the blogosphere today over Mark Dever's comment about the sin inherent to the practice of paedo-baptism. He writes:

I have many dear paedo-baptists friends from whom I have learned much. Yet I see their practice as a sinful (though sincere) error from which God protects them by allowing for inconsistency in their doctrinal system, just as he graciously protects me from consistency with my own errors.

Michael Bird, an evangelical professor at a Scottish theological college, counters:

[T]o label a divergent theological view which is a non-essential to the faith "sinful" is theologically irresponsible, pastorally insensitive, and ecclesially arrogant.

Dever responds with a bit of historical perspective and a more fully developed argument:

This does not cause me to doubt the sincerity of my reformed paedobaptist brethren, nor even their judgment in general. It is simply that on this point they've got it wrong, and their error, involving as it does a requiring of something Scripture does not require (infant baptism), and the consequence of a denying of an action Scripture does require (believers baptism) is sinful (though unintentionally so).

Bird then replies with an argument that offers several examples of theological differences that should not lead us to the conclusion that those who differ with us are wrong. I won't speak for Dever, but I would not consider someone who disagreed with me over the Millennium or open/closed communion to be in sin. And if anyone can find documentation of Dever doing that, I'd be more than a little surprised.

That's a long introduction, but what makes this conversation interesting is that Bird's conclusions seem similar to those I've heard from various fundamentalist leaders. I've heard two or three interact with Dever on this point, and each of them would agree with Bird that a convictional paedobaptist is not "in sin." I'm not going to go into detail on private conversations, but you can listen in on part of one in the last 30 minutes or so of this interview with Mark Minnick.

I'm not entirely sure why we have this odd juxtaposition of Evangelicals and Fundamentalists Together against Dever. I'm not familiar with Bird and won't try to get inside his head. A broader atheological evangelicalism would no doubt demonstrate a knee-jerk reaction against calling much of anything sin. But I certainly would not call Minnick and others atheological (and I don't expect that Bird is either). I wonder if the fundamentalist mindset isn't equipped to process maintaining fellowship and cooperation with people who are in ongoing, unrepentant—albeit unwitting—sin.

The danger with the Bird-Minnick approach is what happens if we conclude that we can't consider someone to be in sin if his errant beliefs and associated disobedient actions are sincerely held and practiced, or if that particular theological conclusion seems less clear than another.

Here's what I mean. What if a person who professes to believe the gospel sincerely concludes that Scripture teaches that women can be pastors? Or that God doesn't know the future since the future doesn't exist yet? Or that Jesus died for the sins of the whole world—all of it—therefore, no one deserves God's wrath? Those are complex issues. They might even seem less clear to some people than when people should be baptized. After all, isn't it a bit myopic to suggest that what's clear to me should be just as clear to you?

So do varying levels of clarity mean we shouldn't consider an egalitarian or an open theist or a universalist to be teaching error—even in sin? Not at all. At least not in my opinion. If you disagree, I have a question: What's the qualitative difference between your hermeneutic of humility and Brian McLaren's?

It cuts both ways. I certainly don't mind if Minnick considers me to be in error and propagating sin because I don't believe women are required to wear head coverings in church. (Though it is nice to know that there's one sin in the world that I can never personally commit.)

Some of these differences—these errors and sins—will limit our fellowship. Perhaps all of them will in some way. Sin does that. But at the end of the day, aren't we all sinners in some way that may be unknown to us? Ongoing, unrepentant, (albeit unwitting) sinners. I'm pretty sure I am.

And that is what you get when you sit down to blog while you're watching March Madness.

The Baptist Cocktail

Where did Baptists come from? Did they emerge from the English Separatists? Continental Anabaptists? Some amalgamation of the two? Or were they just ordinary Christians in different groups who . . . well, read their Bibles? While we're arguing over the relationship of Baptists to Reformed, Calvinistic theology seems like a good time to take a look at those sorts of questions.

So on that note, Nathan Finn has written a short series of posts at the consistently thoughtful Between the Times blog that examines the question (parts 1 2 3). Here are his conclusions (from parts 2 and 3):

I am in favor of breaking out of the too-simplistic either/or approaches to Baptist origins (Anabaptists versus English Separatists, apostolic origins versus post-Reformation origins). The portrait is too complicated for tidy answers.

The English Baptists represent the culmination of the reformation era, agreeing with the basic evangelical soteriology of the magisterial reformers and some Anabaptists and the radical ecclesiology of the orthodox Anabaptists and some English Separatists. They also recognized and appreciated that some medieval sects were correct in at least some aspects of their ecclesiology. But Baptists did not agree with these positions because they were affirmed by Waldenses, Lutherans, Reformed, or Anabaptists, but because Baptists believed an evangelical gospel and a free believers’ church represented the heart of New Testament Christianity.

The question of Baptist origins is best answered with a both/and rather than an either/or. The 400th anniversary of the Baptist movement seems like a great time to rethink our origins and appreciate the polygenetic theological roots of the Christian people called Baptists.

and

To summarize, I do not believe there is any historical reason to ignore Anabaptist influence upon the Baptists, though I also do not wish to see an overemphasis on this point. As I mentioned in my previous article, I suspect there are several reasons for contemporary hesitancy in this matter. Some Baptists shudder at Anabaptist sectarianism. So do I. Some Calvinistic Baptists are uncomfortable with the Anabaptist emphasis on libertarian free will, sometimes de-emphasis of justification by faith, and fuzziness on substitutionary atonement. Ditto. Lots of Baptists are skittish about the lunatic fringe of Anabaptism. You betcha. And some seem to suspect there are present attempts to “Anabaptize” the SBC. And there may be. But none of this changes what I think is good historical evidence that the earliest Baptists were influenced, to varying degrees, by some Anabaptists.

That was actually my working hypothesis as I head into some reading on the issue (as soon as I'm done with this book), but Finn's no doubt read a hundred times as much on the topic as I have, so take his word, not mine. Since Finn cites the two books I'm planning to read, Verduin and Estep, I'm guessing my opinion won't move much.

(How) Should We Look for Christ in the Old Testament?

If you’re anything at all like me, you feel two impulses related to finding Christ in the Old Testament. First, you know he’s there and you want to pull out everything possible. But second, you’re a little bit allergic to allegorical approaches that seem to find a bushel of toadstools for every acorn they stumble upon.

One of the most helpful resources I’ve encountered in years of intermittent reading is this faculty forum on Christology in the OT at Southern Seminary. Moderated by Tom Schreiner, panelists include Duane Garrett, Peter Gentry and Jim Hamilton.

The central point that all three panelists seem to affirm is that we need to follow the exegetical approach of Jesus and the Apostles, but following Jesus and the Apostles doesn’t mean we abandon grammatical-historical exegesis. Jim Hamilton passes on a foundational perspective when he says:

John Sailhamer is correct when he argues that the OT is a Messianic document written from a Messianic perspective in order to provoke and sustain a Messianic hope.

The primary bone of contention in the panel is typology. Peter Gentry actually critiques Grahame Goldsworthy, an author who’s currently influential in Reformed circles. Gentry contends that it’s insufficient to say that everything is typological of Christ. If everything is typological, nothing is. Luke 24 “doesn’t say that every passage in the OT speaks about Christ,” Gentry argues, “but that everything written about him in the law, prophets, and writings must be fulfilled.”

The panelists participate in a nuanced, thought-provoking discussion of the parameters of OT typology. Gentry offers the criteria of correspondence, rooted in history, demonstrating escalation, with a biblical warrant for a typological reading in the context. For a fuller explanation of those criteria, you'll need to listen. Maybe twice.

I would recommend this resource about as much as any I’ve ever encountered. It doesn’t say everything about the topic, but I think you’ll have the opportunity to observe a productive clash of ideas in a pretty short period of time.

The participants refer to a couple resources that develop the concepts in greater depth: Richard Davidson’s Typology in Scripture and S. Lewis Johnson’s The Old Testament in the New.

To those I’ll add John Sailhamer’s Pentateuch as Narrative. Behind this intimidating title you’ll find an accessible commentary on the one coherent book that OT Israelites understood Genesis through Deuteronomy to be. To Sailhamer, the OT is not a semi-random collection of old stories intended to instruct our morality. Instead, He exposes a variety of strategies that the author employed (under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit) to communicate a theological message. And that theological message is a Christological message.

P.S. Andy Naselli just posted a discussion of related matters from Doug Moo.

Together for the Pretribulationalism?

I've been intrigued by the GARBC's proposed amendment to its statement of faith to clarify it's position on the Rapture. Here are a couple perspectives from bloggers in the Association. One argues that the GARBC is demonstrating an over-emphasis on eschatology. The other replies that Pretribulationalism relates to a essential matter of hermeneutics.

In no way am I intending to disparage Pretribulationalism or create an argument over its exegesis. I reject the notion that any truth Scripture teaches is irrelevant. If Scripture teaches it, it's important. That doesn't necessarily mean it's essential for fellowship and cooperation.

I am curious to hear a rationale for why it's so essential that it demands division of an association, or even a local church. Hermeneutics is a big issue, but there are lots of other matters virtually no one includes in statements of faith, which similarly relate to hermeneutics. And it's a canard to treat Pretribulationalism as the issue of final arbitration between literal and figurative hermeneutical approaches.

Dave Doran on How to Produce Self Righteousness and Judgmentalism

Dave Doran makes a powerful point in his recent sermon from Galatians 5. In the context of explaining that the Pharisees crucified Jesus for confronting their self-righteousness, he says:

You can squeeze from the outside and get an appearance of good that actually has not penetrated the heart. And often, the danger that has crept in among believing people is to so emphasize the external that you actually have a generation that has no internal relationship with the Spirit of God. And the next generation has nothing of Christianity because it actually filled up the church with dead people.

Listen to the words of Jesus: "You whited sepulchres, full of dead men's bones." He was saying that to the religious leaders of the people of Israel. And so we have to constantly, constantly remind ourselves that genuine spiritual life is something that comes from the inside by the work of the Spirit, and then, and let's not miss it, then, then bears fruit.

Okay, because here's the objection, and we're living right where Galatians is with this objection. And you say, "But Pastor, you're basically saying that we can't deal with anything on the outside now." And I'm saying, "No!" Because if the inside is being changed, here's nine things that the Spirit of God is going to produce. Love, joy, peace, goodness, kindness, self control.

So don't get into a game of saying, "Well, It's either got to be external or internal." It's actually supposed to be both. But which comes first, and which controls? Because if you start with external, you have no guarantee that you'll get to the internal.

And in fact, and I can say this on the basis of observation in the Scriptures and life, there is ample evidence that if you start at the outside, you actually never get to the inside because what you create is self-righteousness. What you create is judgmentalism. What you create is a life that lives by appearance rather than reality. And what we have to do is recognize that we must go for the heart because that's where the Spirit is at work, and if the Spirit's at work, that will produce it.

I doubt that anyone preaches contrary to this truth. Well, okay, some do. I've heard a couple. I doubt that many people do.

I'm convinced the greater danger in our circles is that we teach salvation by grace through faith in Christ alone. But we get a little ambiguous on sanctification, possibly emphasizing the role of our effort in accomplishing that ongoing transformation a bit too much. And then the weight of the rules and discipline-heavy culture we've created in our institutions teaches far more powerfully than words ever could.

There's also a terrific example of humility and transparency at the end of the sermon. It's been rare in my experience for a pastor to expose his own struggles to his congregation, and I'm grateful that the trend line seems to be reversing.

Marines and Leadership

Major General Randy Alles was an elder at CHBC when I joined. To our dismay, we lost him and his family to a Marine air station in San Diego just a few months later.

Though I never expected to see his name when I started reading Peggy Noonan's column Saturday afternoon, it didn't surprise me in the slightest to see him honored in that column for the way he led his Aircraft Wing to accept responsibility for a grievous series of errors that led to tragedy.

These two paragraphs sum up the point quite well:

The day after the report I heard from a young Naval aviator in predeployment training north of San Diego. He flies a Super Hornet, sister ship to the plane that went down. He said the Marine investigation "kept me up last night" because of how it contrasted with "the buck-passing we see" in the government and on Wall Street. He and his squadron were in range of San Diego television stations when they carried the report's conclusions live. He'd never seen "our entire wardroom crowded around a television" before. They watched "with bated breath." At the end they were impressed with the public nature of the criticism, and its candor: "There are still elements within the government that take personal responsibility seriously." He found himself wondering if the Marines had been "too hard on themselves." "But they are, after all, Marines."

By contrast, he says, when the economy came crashing down, "nowhere did we see a board come out and say: 'This is what happened, these are the decisions these particular people made, and this was the result. They are no longer a part of our organization.' There was no timeline of events or laymen's explanation of how a credit derivative was actually derived. We did not see congressmen get on television with charts and eviscerate their organization and say, 'These were the men who in 2003 allowed Freddie and Fannie unlimited rein over mortgage securities.' Instead we saw . . . everybody against everybody else with no one stepping forth and saying, 'We screwed up.'" There is no one in national leadership who could convincingly "assign blame," and no one "who could or would accept it."

That seems about right to me. Accepting responsibility isn't the first reflex of this culture. It may not even be the first reflex of Marines and Christian leaders. But I'm grateful that, by God's grace, he still raises up people who fear him more than they fear men.

And the winner is . . .

Three answers in the comments to this challenge really made me think. Bob from Dublin made an undeniably biblical case from 2 Timothy 3:1-9. In addressing prosperity, Jason actually expressed what I believe is the largest emphasis of that passage, and he gets some extra points for being the first commenter to offer an answer. Coach C challenged my very presupposition that these times are "uniquely precarious" and made me do a little more exegetical thinking than I'd expected.

So I think the question comes down to Jason and Coach C, and the winner hinges on whether these times are uniquely precarious in some tangible way, or merely difficult or even terrible because the end is near, Satan knows it, and human rebellion is welling up more and more.

On the face of it, from an American perspective (and, apparently, an Australian perspective, given Jason's hometown), Jason's answer of seems like a slam dunk. Well, assuming that we aren't heading into a long-term global depression, that is. But in favor of Josh's answer is the fact that, though Christianity is on the decline in the West, it seems to be exploding in places like sub-Saharan Africa, South America, and Southeast Asia. And amazing things are happening in the Muslim world. How I wish I could post the contents of an e-mail that was forwarded to me last week.

Nevertheless, at the end of the day I think Jason is right. The expansion of prosperity to all corners of the globe does make these times more uniquely precarious than any of the other answers that were proposed, at least in my opinion.

Feel free to shoot back at me in the comments.

And Jason, do let me know a reliable (and economical!) way to get a book to you in Australia. You can e-mail me at the address in the sidebar.

Congratulations and best wishes.

The Effects of Calvinism on Missions

Listen here to a young, Calvinistic Maranatha grad (who's about to take his family to the other side of the world) preach about the driving motivation of missions—to see God call out worshipers of his Name from the ends of the earth. He's preaching in a church planted by young, Calvinistic Maranatha grads.