Roger E. Olson

Types of evangelical theology: replacing the “spectrum”

In part one of this series I talked about the limitations of attempting to place every theologian somewhere on a spectrum defined by “right,” “middle,” and “left.” It’s a habit of evangelical theologians that’s hard to break. That spectrum was originally tied to modernity. Theologians to the “left” were those who accommodated to modernity; those to the right rejected modernity; those in the middle worked with some kind of synthesis of moderate adjustment to modernity where necessary while remaining faithful to the “received evangelical heritage” of Protestant orthodoxy.

One problem with that spectrum is its use of modernity as the norm; it assumes that every theologian is somehow responding to modernity—with either rejection or accommodation or moderate acknowledgment within basic faithfulness to orthodoxy. Not all theologians (I used Hauerwas as an example) are responding to modernity. Holding fast to that spectrum can end up with some very strange anomalies. Some postmodern theologians reject modernity without affirming orthodoxy. Where would they be on the spectrum?

Contemporary evangelicals have migrated toward a somewhat altered spectrum. On this one theologians are located along it based on perceived adherence to or willingness to revise the “received evangelical tradition.” This was clearly the spectrum Millard Erickson was using in The Evangelical Left. For him, as for many others like him, an evangelical is “left” on the spectrum to the extent he or she revises traditional evangelical doctrinal and ethical commitments and “right” to the extent he or she holds fast to them. One problem with that is, of course, what happens to the extreme “right” of the spectrum? Who goes there? Erickson and others like him claim to occupy the center of the spectrum (of course). But if “left” is revision of the received evangelical tradition and “right” is faithful adherence to it, that distorts the spectrum. It only has a middle (the right) and a left!

Of course, what actually happens is that self-identified evangelical moderates, centrists, like Erickson place fundamentalists off to their “right” on the spectrum. But if the middle is faithful adherence to the evangelical tradition and left is revision of it, what causes someone to be placed to the right of the middle? If strict, faithful adherence to the evangelical tradition is the middle, then what’s to the right of the middle? Fundamentalist think they outdo the moderates in holding fast to the received evangelical tradition—as it was sometime in the distant past, anyway (e.g., young earth creationism). That’s why, with this spectrum, fundamentalists can rightly claim to be the middle and even Erickson, who is not a young earth creationist and is an egalitarian who believes in women’s ordination, is “left.”

Also, where does someone like Donald Bloesch belong on that spectrum? Or Kevin Vanhoozer? Or Alister McGrath? Or any number of evangelicals who are simply not concerned with defending some preconceived “received evangelical tradition” but are also not concerned with revising doctrines?

There are multiple problems with those “right to middle to left” spectrums. I have come to think that the main purpose of the evangelical spectrum is political. Administrators of evangelical institutions (colleges, universities, seminaries, publishers, etc.) are not always theologians or able to take the time to investigate for themselves candidates’ theologies, so they rely on someone they trust to tell them “where the person belongs on the evangelical spectrum.” “To the left” is usually the death sentence for being hired or getting tenure. There’s one notorious case I am very familiar with where a candidate for tenure at an evangelical seminary was denied it simply because a well-known evangelical theologian told the seminary’s administration the person is “postmodern.” In fact, the person is an expert on postmodernism, much more than the theologian who caused him to not get tenure! And he is not a relativist or cognitive nihilist or radical pragmatist or any of the things the seminary’s administrators probably think “postmodern” means.

I‘ve been in this game (viz., the evangelical subculture and its habits) for a long time. I’ve taught at three evangelical universities. (Not everyone at those universities calls themselves “evangelical” but they all clearly are in the broad sense of the word.) I’ve been editor of a leading evangelical scholarly journal supported by fifty (mostly) evangelical colleges. I’ve been an editor of a major evangelical magazine for years. I’ve worked with several evangelical book publishers. I was chairman of the Evangelical Theology Group of the American Academy of Religion for two years. All that is to say I think I know this subculture very well, almost as well as anyone. What I have observed is that many, perhaps most, executives of evangelical organizations have someone they consider “safe” to advise them about hiring and tenure decisions. That person (or two or three persons) can blackball a candidate very easily simply by saying he or she is “to the left” on the evangelical spectrum (or something to that effect). Of course, the person saying that is “to the left” of someone else on that same spectrum! But evangelical administrators too often don’t stop to question it; they just take the well-known, influential, “safe” evangelical theologian’s word for it and the candidate never knows why he or she didn’t get hired.

While admitting that we (evangelicals) are addicted to the spectrums—the first one for the broader theological world and the second one for “us”—I am increasingly uncomfortable with them. They simply suffer too many anomalies and abuses. They are too simplistic and easy to manipulate. They make it too easy not to engage seriously with someone’s theology. I observed this with my friend Stan Grenz who was put to the “left” on the evangelical spectrum by almost everyone but who strenuously denied it with good reason. After all, he affirmed inerrancy! The whole reason he was labeled “left” was his post-foundationalist epistemology which, contrary to critics, did not lead him into “cultural relativism” (a stupid claim).

My preferred alternative to these spectrums is for people to seriously engage with others’ theologies and not take the easy way out by simply relying on someone they trust to tell them where they are on the evangelical spectrum. I’m enough of a realist, however, to know that’s not likely to happen. But I urge it anyway.

I have an alternative model in mind for “placing” evangelical thinkers (theologians, biblical scholars, philosophers of religion, etc.) in relation to each other: a colorful mosaic. From a distance a colorful mosaic looks like one color, but the closer you get the more clearly the different shades of color begin to appear. Compared with the larger theological world, evangelical theology appears relatively monochrome. For example, if you attend the annual national meeting of the American Academy of Religion, as I did in San Francisco in November and have at its various locations for about twenty-five years, the evangelicals in attendance appear relatively homogenous theologically.

I’ll use an imaginary illustration. Imagine a large panel of religious scholars who call themselves “Christians.” It includes: a black theologian, a feminist theologian, a radical postmodern theologian, a process theologian, an Eastern Orthodox theologian, a revisionist Roman Catholic theologian, a Tridentine Roman Catholic theologian, a narrative theologian, and a “Christian atheist.” (I have specific people in mind for each category and I know they attend the AAR, so this panel could happen!) What do they all have in common? Only that they are human beings, religious scholars and self-identified Christians. Even from a distance the differences stand out in stark relief.

Now imagine a panel of evangelical theologians—a fundamentalist, a postconservative, a confessionalist, a “generic evangelical” (those are the four found in the recently published book Four Views on the Spectrum of Evangelicalism). Add any well-known, self-identified evangelical thinker to the panel. Compared with the first panel, this one will appear homogenous from a distance. (I’m asking you to imagine here that theological orientations are like colors.) These theologians have much more in common than those on the first panel. They are human beings, religious scholars, self-identified evangelical Christians, biblicists (in some sense), conversionists, believers that salvation is only through Jesus Christ and his cross, and activists (in the sense of believing in evangelism). Sure, there are distinct differences in the details, but if someone walked in to a large room with the first panel they would see, even from a distance, contrasting colors. If someone walked into a large room with the second panel they would see, from a distance, a mosaic of colors, but it would be difficult to distinguish them without getting very close.

The second mosaic, the evangelical one, is like some of those you see in hotel room bathrooms.  Often there’s a mosaic of tiles in the bathtub/shower enclosure. It might just be a stripe of shiny, colored tiles going around the middle of the enclosure. From a distance it looks like one color, but when you get close up you see subtle differences. One tile is more purple than the tile two or three down from it that is more green, etc.

Compared with the larger religious academy, including its “Christian” theologians, biblical scholars, philosophers of religion, etc., this evangelical world of scholars is like that almost but not quite monochrome stripe of tiles.

A close inspection of the evangelical mosaic reveals differences: paleo-orthodox, postconservative (not anti-conservative) or progressive, fundamentalist, Pentecostal, dispensationalist, high federal Calvinist, charismatic, Third Wave, emergent, Pietist, etc. If you put your face right up to the mosaic these differences seem very striking, but if you step back and look at it the differences pale in comparison with what the tiles have in common and in comparison with the splash of bright colors in the “mainline” mosaic.

And, of course, some tiles have some of two or three colors in them. One tile is simply purple and another one is simply green. (But to keep the analogy going, they’re both muted, not terribly bright, so that from a distance they don’t look all that different.) But most tiles are some mixture of both or of two other colors.

The mosaic of evangelical theologies is like that second one. There’s no “right” or “left” or “middle.” There’s just (limited) variety. Using this model, an evangelical administrator will pick up the individual “tile” (a candidate for hiring or tenure) and put it up to the whole mosaic and say either “Yes, I see this color there. This tile’s coloring fits the mosaic. There are others like it” OR “No, this bright pink tile is nothing like those in the mosaic; it doesn’t fit at all.” Of course, this assumes the administrator has taken the time and trouble to learn about the evangelical mosaic and that’s one of the flaws in my alternative model. However, I will argue that a person should not be the administrator of a trans-denominational evangelical organization without knowing evangelical history and theology, unity and diversity.

Now, of course, IF the evangelical organization is tied to a specific denomination or confessional tradition, the administrator will have to use two mosaics—the larger evangelical one and that of his or her own denomination or confessional tradition. But that’s why administrators get paid the big money! They’re expected to know a lot. It seems like evidence of little knowledge and poor judgment ability when an administrator has the old spectrum in his head (or in that of his favorite evangelical theological advisor’s head) and uses it to make these decisions.

Of course, I think it would be a good idea for an administrator to have people who advise him or her on these personnel matters, but such people should not have an axe to grind.

I hope by now you’ve caught on to my main motive for arguing against the old spectrum approach. It has become a political tool among evangelicals. When open theism first appeared among evangelicals, some self-identified “conservative evangelicals” (read “safe”) labeled it “liberal” or “left” on the evangelical spectrum. And yet some of its most prominent proponents were anything but “liberal.” One was and is charismatic or New Wave and believes strongly in real spiritual beings, demons and angels, who are engaged in spiritual warfare invisible to us (most of the time). Liberal? Left? I strongly believe his critics’ attempt to place him and other open theists on the “left” end of the spectrum was nothing more than a political ploy to marginalize him and them and set them up for being fired from their teaching positions. At least the early reactions by self-identified “conservative evangelicals” to open theism was simplistic. It didn’t engage with what they were really saying but caricatured their views (“ignorant God”). One critic of open theism told me it’s wrong because it’s not traditional. He happened to be a five point Calvinist teaching in a seminary that had never had a five point Calvinist on its faculty before him!

I digress, but this is my blog, so…

The whole controversy over open theism changed my life forever. I heard and read blatant dishonesty, conscious, knowing distortion, mean-spiritedness and overt attempts to destroy people’s reputations and careers—all on the side of open theism’s critics. (I’m NOT saying all critics participated in this!) One self-identified conservative evangelical theologian publicly accused open theists of “worshiping the goddess of novelty.” Others equated open theism with process theology. One publicly called open theists “Socinians.” One wrote that open theists “admit” to being influenced by process theology, but the open theist book he cited to support that said the opposite! I was myself sucked into this maelstrom of controversy and threatened with being fired just for being open to open theism and defending my open theist friends. Lies were published about me. One critic of open theism published an article attributing a quote to me I never said or wrote. (There was no chance this was a matter of confusion; the quote was fabricated.) Several claimed publicly that I was an open theist when I knew they knew I was not. When I wrote to them they wouldn’t answer me. This was a witch hunt among evangelicals and I truly believe its main motive was to take over evangelical institutions. (To a very great extent it was a reprise of the inerrancy controversy launched by The Battle for the Bible in 1976.) I see the villains in that controversy (and I’m NOT saying all critics of open theism were villains) as having gained the upper hand with evangelical institutional leaders. They created enough fear, even if only of controversy, that they would only hire people they thought the pot-stirring heresy hunters would approve of or at least not exclaim “J’accuse!” over.

I see the old evangelical spectrum as little more than a tool in such theological-political warfare. Since the mid-1990s I have not known what someone means when they say an evangelical theologian is “left” or “liberal-leaning.” I know for a fact it often means nothing more than “I disagree with him [or her].” But if you get enough influential people to say it sufficiently loudly and create enough fear of “creeping liberalism” it can ruin careers and do real damage to families and institutions.

Types of evangelical theology: replacing the “spectrum” Part 1

For a long time scholars studying Evangelicalism have used the analogy of a spectrum to describe its theological diversity. The spectrum is always from “right” to “middle” to “left” with “middle” indicating adherence to the “received evangelical doctrinal tradition” with neither accommodation to modern culture nor over-reaction against it. Books like Millard Erickson’s The Evangelical Left and George Marsden’s Understanding Fundamentalism and Evangelicalism tend to assume this spectrum as natural.

The spectrum method of categorization and description goes back to the nineteenth century when Protestantism was being pulled apart over the issue of accommodation to modernity. Liberal theologians were those “modernists” who freely adjusted doctrine to fit with the “the best of modern thought.” Yale church historian Claude Welch defined liberal theology as “maximal accommodation to the claims of modernity.” These theologians tended to relativize doctrine and emphasize something else as the “essence” of Christianity (e.g., Schleiermacher’s God-consciousness or Ritschl’s ethical experience).

The reason liberal theologians did that was to avoid conflicts between science (in the broad sense, not just the so-called natural sciences) and Christianity such as the infamous Galileo affair. In those conflicts, when the churches and their theologians stood up to science and condemned its findings, science tended to win and the outcomes were extremely embarrassing to the churches and theologians.

It wasn’t only the Galileo affair, of course, that caused this modern crisis for Christianity. Well into the nineteenth century some church leaders and theologians were insisting on Bishop Ussher’s dating of the creation at 4004 B.C. or thereabouts. (Even those who laughed at his specificity—he even suggested the actual date of creation—held to what is now called “young earth creationism.”) Then geology proved that wrong.

An interesting case study is Charles Hodge about whom I wrote here recently. In his Systematic Theology Hodge stated very clearly that biblical interpretation has to bow to science when it’s a matter of fact and not theory. For example, he considered it scientific fact, not mere theory, that the earth is millions of years old so he embraced the “day age” theory of Genesis 1. However, his last published work was What Is Darwinism? in which he blasted natural selection as “atheism.” Not long after his death, however, Warfield, Hodge’s main follower and his successor at Princeton, accepted evolution as fact. But he did that by claiming that evolution is not necessarily atheistic and can be made compatible with divine teleology (what we now call “Intelligent Design”).

Liberal theologians regarded this entire process of continual retreat in the face of modern science a failed policy. Insofar as Christianity considers its theology a realm of facts about the universe and life in it, it will increasingly become irrelevant and eventually die. So Schleiermacher and his followers and Ritschl and his followers gave the category of “fact” over to science and defined religion, including Christianity, as feeling or ethics. This is the origin of the popular (even among evangelicals!) saying that science has facts and Christianity has faith as if these are in water tight separate compartments. (Even Ritschl, however, could not maintain the line between them.)

A close inspection of liberal Protestant theology and Catholic Modernism reveals that a basic impulse in their creation was to make conflicts between science and Christianity impossible. I believe it is evangelical theologian William Abraham who said that liberal theology was so afraid of being kicked in the ditch by modernity that it jumped there to avoid the pain of the kick! Liberal theology did not so much deny traditional beliefs as relegate all doctrines to the realm of expressions of religious feelings or ethics. The “moralizing of dogma” was the catch phrase for the Ritschlian tendency to ignore doctrines it could not put into the service of ethics.

The main reaction to liberal theology in the nineteenth century was Protestant Orthodoxy as represented by Hodge. Hodge insisted that Christianity is primarily a matter of factual revelation and that Christian theology is simply correctly organizing the facts of the Bible into a coherent system. He explicitly compared theology with science in that regard. For him the Bible is to the theologian exactly what nature is to the scientist—a “store-house of facts.” He adopted Scottish Common Sense Realism, an Enlightenment philosophy, to help his project of rescuing Protestant Orthodoxy’s status as a rational science. (He even went so far as to say that the credibility of revelation is subject to reason.) The way Hodge avoided conflicts between theology and science was by accommodating to the “material facts” of science and rejecting anything science “discovers” that he could claim is mere “theory” insofar as it conflicted with his interpretation f Scripture.

Of course, true to Hegel’s analysis of thought, a “mediating theology” arose to combine liberal theology and Protestant Orthodoxy. Mediating theology is represented in Europe by I. A. Dorner, in Britain by P. T. Forsyth and in America by Horace Bushnell. (Here I am not using “Mediating Theology” in the very narrow, technical, historical-theological sense of Vermittlungstheologie but in the sense of explicit attempts to take up what is valuable in both Protestant Orthodoxy and liberal theology and combine them while leaving behind their flaws.) However, try as they might, the mediating theologians always tended to lean one way of the other. Forsyth, for example, leaned toward evangelicalism while trying to “preach to the modern mind” in a modern way (e.g., by downplaying the supernatural). Bushnell leaned toward liberalism while maintaining an evangelical spirit even to the point of affirming the supernatural. Dorner was strongly influenced by Schleiermacher and Hegel but also strongly disagreed with both of them insofar as they tended to leave classical doctrines like the incarnation behind (or reinterpret them so much that they became unrecognizable).

No matter how hard they tried, historical theologians analyzing nineteenth century theology (and “nineteenth century theology” only ends at 1914 or 1917) could not break the spell of trying to put every Christian theologian somewhere on a spectrum of right to left or left to right with modernity being the criterion of placement. So, by this common analysis, which still works its magic over us, Hodge and theologians like him belong toward the “right” end of the spectrum, Schleiermacher and Ritschl and their followers belong toward the “left” end of the spectrum and the mediating theologians are arrayed at various points along the middle. The often unspoken question the answer to which determines where a theologian belongs on the spectrum is to what extent he or she accommodated to modernity.

But this doesn’t work even for nineteenth century theology. There were many theologians then, as now, who don’t fit anywhere on that spectrum. And the theologians put on the spectrum often don’t really belong where they’ve been placed. For example, Hodge was clearly influenced by modernity as he treated theology as a science in the modern sense. (It won’t work to try to deny this by saying that theology was the “Queen of the Sciences” in the middle ages and that Hodge was simply trying to rescue the queen! He explicitly appealed to modern natural science as the model for theology and used Scottish Common Sense Realism to the fullest.) Why put Hodge way to the right on that spectrum?

Also, where does Kierkegaard belong on that spectrum? The usual way to deal with the Danish theologian is to treat him a philosopher, but anyone who reads him knows he was a theologian. He had a degree in theology, at times wanted to teach theology (but you had to have the King’s endorsement to have a teaching position in the university and Kierkegaard’s enemies blocked it), and most of his writing deals with Christianity either directly or indirectly. Although he was reacting against Hegel and his followers, he was not accommodating to or reacting against modernity per se. He certainly wasn’t “liberal” in any usual sense of that word. So, to rescue the spectrum, people like Kierkegaard are usually excused by being relegating to the separate category of philosophy.

I suggest the reason for the obsession with the spectrum is the ease it offers to categorizing nineteenth century theologians. The emergence of the phenomenon of mediating theology reinforced its apparent appropriateness. But I also suggest it never really worked without serious distortions. People have held onto it simply because it’s easy. And it has become a useful polemical tool for labeling and dismissing theologians. Almost everyone wants to see himself or herself as somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, so the spectrum itself becomes relative to the individual using it.

A major problem with the spectrum is that it was originally tied to modernity and gradually, throughout the twentieth century, modernity became less and less the litmus test for categorizing theologians. One theologian even wrote a book some years ago entitled The Shattered Spectrum (Lonnie Kliever, 1981). Indeed. The spectrum needs to be shattered. But it’s still very much alive especially among evangelicals.

The problem with the old spectrum became clear throughout the twentieth century. Where does Barth belong on it? Cornelius Van Til wrote about The New Modernism—one of the first American books about Barth and neo-orthodoxy in general. But, of course, everyone knows Barth was no “modernist.” Where does Pannenberg belong on the spectrum? As a student of Pannenberg’s I can assure you he doesn’t fit on it anywhere. I argue that most twentieth century theologians cannot be fitted comfortably on that old spectrum. Sure, there are still some old fashioned liberals around like John Spong and Marcus Borg, but the “giants” of twentieth century theology don’t fit on the spectrum and attempts to put them there have inevitably distorted their theologies.

I’m not arguing the old spectrum is totally useless. As I just said, there are still old fashioned liberal theologians around. Of course, we call them “chastened liberals” because, by and large, they are not optimistic about inevitable progress as were most of the old liberals (pre-WW1 in Europe and pre-WW2 in America). Process theology, for example, appears to me to still fit on the spectrum. Fundamentalism still fits on it insofar as it is anti-modern (e.g., young earth creationism, etc.). But the giants of twentieth century and early twenty-first century theology don’t fit on it well at all. Where does Stanley Hauerwas belong on it? Nowhere. Attempts to put him in the middle are simply attempts to compliment him in ways I’m sure he would not like. Yoder? Moltmann? Zizioulas? Newbigin? I could go on and on and on naming theologians who don’t fit anywhere on that old spectrum. And yet, especially conservative evangelicals still insist on using it.

I say let it die. Except when talking about theologians who really do fit on it by their own admissions—as pro-modern or anti-modern or attempting some kind of synthesis.

I supposed one way to rescue the spectrum and make it useful today is to tie it to postmodernity. Thus, on that reconstructed spectrum, being to the “right” would be anti-postmodern, being to the “left” would be pro-postmodern, and being in the middle would be….what? Ah, just right!

That’s one of the besetting sins of all the attempts to construct and use such a spectrum. I suggest its main purpose has always been to justify one’s own theology as “moderate.” Schleiermacher thought he was moderate. After all, he wasn’t a deist or skeptic or unitarian. Certainly Ritschl and his followers thought they were moderate. After all, they weren’t followers of Feuerbach! Hodge and his Princeton theologians could claim the middle ground. After all, they weren’t among the proto-fundamentalists.

The reconstructed spectrum, tied to postmodernity, would have the same problems as the old spectrum tied to modernity. It might work for some theologians, but it wouldn’t work for many others. It would be used politically (i.e., to enhance one’s own reputation while marginalizing others.) And there would always be the temptation to make everyone fit somewhere on it even if they don’t really fit on it at all. And it would suffer from the lack of clarity or consensus about what constitutes “postmodernity.”

So, let me sum up this first part of the series and preview the next.

The traditional “right to left, left to right” spectrum for categorizing theologians and theologies was problematic from the start. It began as a way of categorizing nineteenth century theologians and it was tied to modernity. Theologians were placed on it according to the placer’s judgment about the theologians’ accommodations to or rejections of modernity. That spectrum didn’t ever work well, but it became especially problematic in the twentieth century as many theologians no longer responded to modernity. It still works only for theologians and types of theology that clearly and unequivocally respond to modernity either though accommodation or reaction. A completely separate spectrum tied to postmodernity might be helpful for categorizing SOME theologians IF “postmodernity” ever becomes a clear category. But there will probably never be a time when one spectrum works for every theologian. It wasn’t true in the nineteenth century and it isn’t true now and it will almost certainly never be true.

Coming up next: Evangelicals are still under the spell of the old spectrum. Some are attempting to use it with postmodern as the criterion of placement. But even among evangelicals the spectrum analogy doesn’t work. Where did Donald Bloesch belong on either spectrum (modernity or postmodernity)? Thomas Oden? Alister McGrath? Amos Yong? I could go on and on. And yet, many evangelicals are still using the “right to left” spectrum as if it had real validity. Often they use it for their own political purposes—to marginalize someone else while enhancing their own reputation as moderate (where most evangelical theologians want to be). Is there a better way to categorize evangelical theologians? I will suggest an alternative.

Are Some Things Impossible to Believe?

Lewis Carroll’s White Queen tells Alice that sometimes she has believed six impossible things before breakfast. That led some later wits to quip that faith is believing six impossible things before breakfast.

Lately I’ve been re-reading Charles Hodge’s Systematic Theology (having read it many years ago).The first volume was first published in the early 1870s. I wonder if Hodge had read Through the Looking Glass which was published in 1871?

Or perhaps Dodgson (Carroll’s real name) and Hodge had read the same source? Perhaps someone associated with the Scottish Common Sense Philosophy?

In any case, interestingly, and I dare say surprisingly to many of his admirers, Hodge believed there are things it is impossible to believe.

First, it’s important to know that Hodge believed in a “constitution of the human mind.” such that “What is true of other sciences is true of theology.” (ST I:2). One aspect of the constitution of the human mind that science and theology share is what poet Wallace Stevens called the “blessed rage for order.” That is, the human mind seeks to systematize facts.

Second, Hodge believed in “self-evident truths.” (ST I:10-11) These are “given in the constitution of our nature.” (ST I:9) One is the existence of a personal God. (ST I:23). Another one is the law of non-contradiction (ST 1:51-52).

Third, on the basis of the constitution of our nature and self-evident truths, Hodge argued that it is simply impossible to believe some things. Even revelation must be judged by reason in this sense—not by philosophy but by basic intuition. “Reason must judge the credibility of a revelation.” (ST I:50) (Clearly Kierkegaard would disagree!)

By “credibility” Hodge makes clear he means things possible to believe, not what must be believed. In other words, he was setting forth negative tests for belief, not saying that it is only possible to believe what reason alone can establish. (He called that Rationalism.)

Hodge asks what is the proper office of reason in matters of religion? “Revelation is the communication of truth to the mind. But the communication of truth supposes the capacity to receive it. Truths, to be received as objects of faith, must be intellectually apprehended.” (ST I:49) In other words, a person can hear or read something and even consider it and think they believe it when, in fact, it’s impossible to believe because of the constitution of the human mind. That is, while it can be communicated, it cannot be believed because it is literally incredible.

Hodge gives some examples: “(1.) That is impossible which involves a contradiction; as, that a thing is and is not; that right is wrong, and wrong right. … (3.) It is impossible that He [God] should require us to believe what contradicts any of the laws of belief which He has impressed upon our nature.” (ST I:51) He then says “We have a right [!] to reject as untrue whatever it is impossible that God should require us to believe. He can no more require us to believe what is absurd than to do what is wrong.” (ST I:52)

Following on all that, Hodge gives us as a basic axiom of religion and theology that “God requires nothing irrational of his rational creatures.” (ST I:55) What about faith? Doesn’t faith mean believing whatever God has revealed? Hodge answers both yes and no. Yes insofar as what is revealed is possible; no insofar as what is supposedly revealed is impossible. “Faith…is not a blind, irrational assent, but an intelligent reception of the truth on adequate grounds.”

Now, clearly, Hodge knew some people claim to believe impossible things. What he is saying about them is that, in fact, they do not really believe those things because it’s literally impossible to believe them. That is, when they say they believe them, insofar as they are literally incredible, Hodge thinks they might as well be saying “I believe Jabberwocky” (the title of one of Lewis Carroll’s poems). If someone came up to Hodge and said “Sir! I believe Jabberwocky,” Hodge would say “No, you don’t. You just think you do. But, in fact, it’s not possible to believe Jabberwocky.” (Assuming, of course, the person means more than they believe it is a real poem.)

How does this function for theology? Hodge tells us very clearly: “We are to try the spirits. But how can we try them without a standard? and what other standard can there be, except the laws of our nature and the authenticated revelations of God?” (ST I:53) Notice he says “the laws of our nature and the authenticated revelations of God.”

There is one clear conclusion from all this that is embedded in what Hodge is saying but has to be drawn out and made explicit. Hodge is saying that if the Bible really did teach something that is impossible to believe, he would not believe it. He could not. Of course, he was convinced that was not the case. But all his talk about laws of our nature and things impossible to believe because of them makes clear that he was not advocating mindless acceptance of whatever Scriptures says. And certainly not mindless acceptance of someone’s interpretation of Scripture however authoritative they may seem.

I agree with Hodge. There are things it is literally impossible to believe. Not just impossible for me to believe but literally impossible for anyone to believe. So when I meet an adult who says they believe something I am convinced is literally incredible I have to assume one of several things (and I believe Hodge would agree given what he said about possible and impossible beliefs):

1) Possibly the person is not telling the truth. (If they’re not lying perhaps they are simply deluded or in denial.)

2) Possibly the person is insane.

3) Possibly I have not understood the person. (For example, perhaps they mean      something different by “believe” than I mean. Maybe they mean “feel” or something.)

4) A version of “1” above is that possibly the person truly thinks they believe it but I have to conclude they don’t, but without trying to explain what’s going on inside their mind.

So how is this relevant? What’s its importance? Well…Hodge himself lists as something impossible to believe (like Jabberwocky) “that God should do, approve, or command what is morally wrong.” (ST I:51) I agree. I think that is impossible to believe. So, if the Bible seems to say that God does, approves or commands what is morally wrong I can’t believe that is what it really means. Neither can Hodge. So, when someone confronts me with Isaiah 45:7, claiming that it supports belief that God can do evil, I can only tell them “That’s impossible to believe. It must mean something else.” Notice, I am not saying “I disagree with Isaiah 45:7.” I am saying with Hodge that it is literally impossible to believe that’s what it means. If the person persists, then all I can do is revert to one of the four possibilities above (not necessarily saying any of them to the person).

This principle of Hodge’s raises some philosophical questions, of course. Why is it literally impossible to believe that God can do, approve or command what is morally wrong?” Hodge doesn’t explain, but I assume he thinks this is self-evident. That is, somehow the concepts of “God” and “morally good” are inseparable. This was, of course, Augustine’s belief and I think he made a very good case for it relying on Plato. Another way of putting that is to say that if it were conceivable that God is not perfectly morally good our whole sense of right and wrong would be destroyed. There would be no way to distinguish between them even relying on divine commands. This insight lies at the heart of Augustine’s rejection of Manichaeism and C. S. Lewis’s argument against dualism in Mere Christianity.

Even more applicable to theology is that unless we assume that God is morally good, there is no reason to believe the Bible. A God who is not perfectly morally good could not be trusted. So, in the moment a person believes the Bible they are already believing that God is morally good.

Now, it’s essential to stop here and say this. It should be obvious, but I predict unless I say it someone will miss it. When Hodge says that God cannot do, approve or command what is morally wrong he obviously thinks “morally wrong” has some content to it. And he can’t only mean “morally wrong as taught in the Bible” because then it wouldn’t be a law of our constitution, something impossible to believe (in the sense of “impossible” he means). If “morally wrong” and “morally not wrong” are conceivably compatible with anything and everything they are meaningless. So, obviously Hodge believed his principle extends to certain specific things God cannot do. I’m sure he would say “lie”—that is, that it is impossible to believe that God lies or could lie—and not just because the Bible says so. Fortunately, the Bible does, but if it didn’t it wouldn’t matter. It’s impossible to believe that God can lie.

People ask me why I’m an Arminian and not a Calvinist. My most basic answer is that I believe Calvinism is literally impossible insofar as it implies that God does what is morally wrong. Of course, no Calvinist I know says they believe that. But if I were a Calvinist…I would have to believe that God does morally wrong which is literally impossible. What wrong? Foreordaining and rendering certain the fall and all its consequences including the Holocaust.

Am I then “judging God’s morality?” No more than Hodge was. (I am simply disagreeing with him about what actions constitute “morally wrong.” I think every attempt to explain why foreordaining evil, immorality, is not morally wrong is a (possibly unconscious) subterfuge. I think it is self-evident that to plan and render certain someone else’s sin is to participate in that sin no matter what one’s own intentions were because, to do this, in a way that would absolutely assure the outcome, one would have to also plan and render certain the sinner’s morally wrong intentions.

So, for me, when I read a passage of Scripture that seems to say that God foreordains moral evil, sin, or that God predestines people infallibly to hell, it literally cannot mean that.

Given all that Hodge says about this subject, I can only conclude that if someone asked him “If it were revealed to you in a way you could not doubt that God does what is morally wrong would you still worship him?” he would reply that he would not because then, by dint of sheer intuition (as he means it), that would not be God. In other words, it’s an impossible hypothetical situation. The only difference between him and me is that, somehow, in a way I cannot grasp, he didn’t think “doing, approving or commanding what is morally wrong” includes what Calvinism says God does. I think he contradicted himself because it is intuitively true that “morally wrong” includes what Calvinism says God does (whether Calvinists grasp that or not). But he was no less “judging God’s morality” than I am. Neither of us is. We are simply explaining what it is possible and impossible to believe.

Below is an essay written by a friend. I have only altered it to correct spelling and mechanical errors (e.g., to put a space between words where one was missing). I judge this an incisive explanation of something significant happening among evangelicals today. In fact, I have said here before that I now believe there are really two evangelicalism–the one focused on in this paper and traditional, mainline, moderate evangelicalism (the “Billy Graham coalition” including the National Association of Evangelicals, etc.). The difference is that, in contrast to the neo-fundamentalism described in this paper, traditional evangelicalism is broader, more inclusive, more irenic and less separatistic and militant with regard to those with whom they disagree. I believe Mike Clawson is a regular visitor here, so feel free to direct questions to him.

Young, Restless, and Fundamentalist:

Neo-fundamentalism among American Evangelicals

Michael Clawson

Baylor University – Department of Religion

A New Fundamentalist Reaction

In his 2007book The Truth War: Fighting for Certainty in an Age of Deception, influential evangelical pastor and author, John MacArthur wrote the following:

[Quote] The evangelical movement as we speak of it today is already doomed. It stands roughly where the mainstream denominations were in the early part of the twentieth century when those denominations began formally excommunicating conservative voices of dissent from their midst – and sounder evangelicals began actively separating from those denominations en masse… It is time for the faithful remnant to redraw clear lines and step up our energies in the Truth War – contending earnestly for the faith. In light of all the biblical commands to fight a good warfare, it is both naïve and disobedient for Christians in this postmodern generation to shirk that duty.[1] [End Quote]

I contend that this growing concern expressed by MacArthur and many other evangelicals represents a new movement within evangelicalism toward what I have termed neo-fundamentalism.  This is not simply a return to the original Protestant fundamentalism of the early-twentieth century, though it is analogous to it. Instead, I argue that some conservative evangelicals are reacting to the contemporary influences of postmodernity in much the same way that the original fundamentalists did towards the influences of modernity a century ago – namely through hostility towards the broader culture, retrenchment around certain theological doctrines, and conflict with, or separatism from others within a more broadly defined evangelicalism.[2] Because of these similarities, I want to suggest that fundamentalism as a scholarly category (as opposed to its more derogatory uses in the popular media) is a useful framework within which to understand this contemporary phenomenon.

The driving force behind neo-fundamentalism, as with historic fundamentalism, is a “remnant mentality.” Neo-fundamentalists believe they alone are remaining true to the fullness of the gospel and orthodox faith while the rest of the evangelical church is in grave, near-apocalyptic danger of theological drift, moral laxity, and compromise with a postmodern culture – a culture which they see as being characterized by a skepticism towards Enlightenment conceptions of “absolute truth,” a pluralistic blending of diverse beliefs, values, and cultures, and a suspicion of hierarchies and traditional sources of authority.[3] Because of this hostility toward postmodern ways of thinking, neo-fundamentalists have little tolerance for diversity of opinions among evangelicals on any issues they perceive as essential doctrines – which are most of them – as opposed to the broader evangelical movement which historically has allowed for a much wider range of disagreement on disputable matters.[4] Neo-fundamentalists thus respond to the challenges of a postmodern culture by narrowing the boundaries of what they consider genuinely evangelical and orthodox Christianity, and rejecting those who maintain a more open stance.

While similar, this new movement’s primary concerns are typically not the same as those of more traditional fundamentalists. In regards to behavioral standards, for instance, neo-fundamentalists are less concerned about the sort of moral restrictions that animated conservatives of a century ago: drinking, dancing, card playing and the like.[5] Instead they typically focus on contemporary social issues like gender roles or sexual orientation. And while they would still agree with earlier fundamentalists on issues of scriptural inerrancy or anti-evolution, their theological arguments more commonly focus on the nature of truth and Calvinistic soteriology. Institutionally, this movement is not arising from the older bastions of fundamentalism – Bob Jones University, Moody Bible Institute, or even Liberty University – but within mainstream evangelical circles – from Gordon-Conwell, Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, and Trinity Evangelical Divinity School; from well-known and influential mega-church pastors in the Twin Cities, Seattle, and Southern California; and from massive worship festivals and ministry conferences popular with tens of thousands of evangelical college students as well as numerous pastors and lay-leaders. Leading voices associated with this trend include scholars like David Wells, DA Carson and Albert Mohler, Religious Right media-personalities like James Dobson, and well-known pastors like John MacArthur, John Piper and Mark Driscoll.

Of course those to whom I am referring as neo-fundamentalists would not self-identify with that term. I should note that I am here using the term “fundamentalist” historically and descriptively, with no particular value judgment implied. It is an open question as to what they would call themselves, or even whether they currently see themselves as a distinct movement apart from evangelicalism.

Historical Background

Protestant fundamentalism originated in the early twentieth century in response to broad changes in American society, and especially in reaction against the liberalizing effects of modern scholarship in historic Protestant denominations. Fundamentalists defined and defended what they believed were the fundamental orthodox beliefs under attack by the modernists: biblical inerrancy, the reality of miracles such as the virgin birth and resurrection of Jesus, the deity of Christ, as well as his substitutionary atonement and pre-millennial second coming. They also resisted liberalizing trends in the realm of personal moral behavior, and the spread of evolutionary teaching in the public schools. The loss of battles for denominational control in the 1920s led many fundamentalists eventually to withdraw into new denominations or conservative enclaves. Separation from liberals and modernists as well as antagonism towards the broader culture became hallmarks of historic fundamentalism.

Neo-evangelicalism arose in the mid-twentieth century in deliberate contrast to this attitude of hostility and withdrawal. Led out of fundamentalist isolationism by leaders like Billy Graham, Carl Henry, and Harold Ockenga, these new evangelicals argued that conservatives must engage their culture constructively while still holding to the fundamental doctrines of the faith without dividing over secondary issues.[6] This approach enabled them to found countless cooperative ministries, evangelical schools, and publishing enterprises.

Despite the success of this evangelical movement, a resurgence of fundamentalist attitudes began in the late 1970s and 80s in reaction against the massive cultural shifts of the 1960s.[7] As the “culture wars” heated up, evangelicals began increasingly to reclaim the “fighting” spirit of their fundamentalist forebears. Key to this development was Dr. James Dobson, founder of Focus on the Family ministries. While more traditionally fundamentalist leaders like Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson had only limited appeal among mainstream evangelicals, Dobson’s status as a parenting guru, the broadly evangelical nature of his ministry, and his brilliant command of the medium of talk radio, gave him access to a much wider religious audience and enabled him to bring millions of evangelicals along when he joined the culture wars in the early 1980s. Dobson served as a bridge between traditional fundamentalism and contemporary evangelicalism and at the same time laid the seeds of a neo-fundamentalist movement increasingly hostile to the broader culture.

But even as conservative evangelicals became increasingly negative towards culture, the culture itself shifted. While the enemy for the Christian Right in the 70s and 80s had been secular humanism, a philosophy born out of the scientific rationalism of late-Modernity, by the 1990’s secular humanism itself had been relativised by the growing postmodern ethos of pluralism, diversity and tolerance. These became the new villains for neo-fundamentalist evangelicals. For instance, in 1998 well-known Christian apologists Josh McDowell and Bob Hostetler published The New Tolerance: How a cultural movement threatens to destroy you, your faith, and your children.[8] McDowell also went on to create the “Beyond Belief Campaign”, a series of national youth conferences equipping teens to take a stand for the “absolute, objective truths” of the Christian gospel against the pluralism of a postmodern culture.[9] Not to be outdone, Focus on the Family created their own DVD curriculum and training conferences called The Truth Project, whose first session taught participants how to defend “absolute and eternal truth.”[10] James Dobson’s son, Ryan Dobson, also published his own book in 2007 entitled Be Intolerant: Because Some Things Are Just Stupid, which encourages teens to be intolerant (“in love”) of “stupid” ideas like homosexuality, environmentalism, and liberal politics.[11]

The Neo-Fundamentalists

While Dobson and McDowell were among the first to identify this new enemy of postmodern pluralism and relativism, other leaders have constructed a genuine neo-fundamentalist alternative to any evangelical accommodation with postmodernity. Today, I will focus on three of the most influential – John Piper, Albert Mohler, and Mark Driscoll.

John Piper & the New Calvinists

John Piper is the long-time pastor of Bethlehem Baptist Church in Minneapolis, a mega-church in the Baptist General Conference, a broadly evangelical denomination. However, his greatest influence comes through numerous books and well-attended speaking engagements, leading to his position, according to former Christianity Today editor Collin Hansen,as “the chief spokesperson for the Calvinist resurgence among young evangelicals.”[12] This Calvinist resurgence, while not exactly synonymous with neo-fundamentalism, is very closely related in that nearly all of the current neo-fundamentalist leaders are militantly Calvinist in their theology.

In his book, Young, Restless and Reformed, Hansen elaborates on the New Calvinism, describing how college-aged evangelicals often encounter the Reformed teachings of John Piper and others at events like the Passion conference, an annual worship gathering attended by thousands of young adult Christians. At such events Piper and others introduce young people to Calvinist doctrines of absolute divine sovereignty and total human depravity. However, far from the usual stereotypes of Calvinists as the “frozen chosen,” unmotivated, at best, regarding evangelism, the Passion conferences combine their Calvinism with cutting edge, emotionally stirring worship music and a passionate call to missions and evangelism.[13]

Piper’s theological message also includes a strong commitment to double imputation and penal substitution as the only normative atonement theory; to scripture as completely inerrant and solely authoritative; and to exclusive male headship in the family and in the church. While many young Passion attendees may be attracted initially to the grandeur of Piper’s transcendent and all-sovereign God, they are soon drawn to these further commitments as part and parcel of Piper’s seemingly fully integrated Reformed worldview.  Hansen suggests that the confident certainty of the Calvinist framework attracts young evangelicals who feel besieged in their Christian beliefs by the pluralistic postmodern culture around them and are left unsatisfied by what they feel is the “dumbed down” approach to the gospel found in the seeker-oriented mega-churches of mainstream evangelicalism.[14]

Of course a strong commitment to Calvinist doctrine alone does not make one a neo-fundamentalist. That further step comes when Piper and other New Calvinists assert that theirs is the only legitimately evangelical and orthodox interpretation of the gospel. For instance, at a Neo-Calvinist event in 2008 Piper identified Arminianism or Wesleyanism (which he claims is held by most evangelicals) as a “false gospel” and asserted that Arminians can only be saved if their “heart belief” (in their utter dependence on God) unwittingly contradicts the theology they hold to consciously/intellectually. He went on to assert that Arminian church members should not be excommunicated, but that anyone responsible for leading or teaching others in the church should. He also recommended separating from denominations that allow Arminianism to be taught (despite the fact that he and his church remain within the Baptist General Conference, which takes no official stance on the issue and does allow both perspectives).[15] This sort of theological narrowness and willingness to separate over issues most mainstream evangelicals would consider “nonessential” is a major similarity between those New Calvinists who follow Piper’s way of thinking and earlier forms of fundamentalism.

Al Mohler and the Church Militant

If Piper wants more inclusive evangelicals kicked out of the camp metaphorically, Al Mohler did it literally. When R. Albert Mohler Jr. was appointed to head Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in 1993, his message to faculty was simple: sign a statement of faith affirming biblical inerrancy or find employment elsewhere.[16] At the time Southern was still a refuge for moderate and liberal professors, and ninety-six percent of the faculty left or were driven out when Mohler began to enforce his demand.[17]

As America’s largest Protestant denomination, the Southern Baptist shadow looms large in the evangelical world, and Mohler is one of their most influential leaders, calling both Southern Baptists and evangelicals in general to greater political and cultural militancy. A regular spokesperson on CNN and other major media outlets, Mohler has urged the church to get back on a “wartime footing” in its relation to the broader culture,[18] especially in relation to issues of abortion and LGBT rights which he sees as a major threat to Christian values and a key sign of the decline of Western civilization. Mohler, for instance, has declared the teaching of diversity in public schools as a sign that they have become an essentially “pagan and ungodly system”, and advises Christian parents to withdraw their children from them.[19]

Like other neo-fundamentalists Mohler blames the postmodern view “that truth is relative or socially constructed” for this cultural decline, and believes such views are a “direct challenge to the Christian gospel.”[20] And like fundamentalists, both old and new, Mohler sees evangelical Christians as a besieged and faithful remnant, in his words “a cognitive minority,” within this larger society.[21]While Mohler still calls for Christian activism and militancy, overall his outlooks seems to be one of growing pessimism, seeing little hope for the re-establishment of a conservative moral center in America.[22]

Though Mohler stands squarely in line with other leaders of the Religious Right on such issues, his significance for the neo-fundamentalist movement is his ability to impact the next generation of Christian leaders though his position as a media personality and as the president of one of the world’s largest seminaries. Only in his early-fifties and already possessing a significant national platform, Mohler is a natural successor to aging neo-fundamentalist spokesmen like Dobson or Robertson. Such influence strongly indicates that both the Religious Right and neo-fundamentalism will remain a significant presence within mainstream evangelicalism for some time to come.

Mark Driscoll and Masculine Christianity

Besides a rejection of postmodernity, an embrace of Calvinism, and a continuation of the culture wars, a final key characteristic of neo-fundamentalism is a strong emphasis on traditional gender roles in an attempt to reclaim a more “masculine” version of the faith. No one illustrates this tendency better than Mark Driscoll, founder of Mars Hill Church, a rapidly growing mega-church in Seattle, as well as the Acts 29 church planting network. Driscoll is known by many as “the cussing pastor,”[23] and his penchant for rhetorical vulgarities, along with his open embrace of certain practices usually shunned by conservative evangelicals – drinking beer, getting tattoos, and appreciating secular entertainment for instance – makes him a controversial figure to other neo-fundamentalists.  Indeed, he seems to lack the level of hostility towards secular culture typical of fundamentalists, at least regarding the aforementioned issues of behavior and entertainment.

One might therefore assume that Driscoll is not in fact a neo-fundamentalist. And yet Driscoll often shares the stage at national conferences with other neo-fundamentalist leaders. And while many of the older leaders often have gentle criticisms for him (especially in regards to his language choices), Piper and others have made it clear that Driscoll’s doctrine is acceptable to them and that they are unwilling to kick him out of the camp over stylistic differences.[24]Indeed, Driscoll theology is completely in line with the older generation of neo-fundamentalists on everything from gender roles, to biblical inerrancy, penal substitutionary atonement, and opposition to same-sex relations.[25] In addition, Driscoll is very much a New Calvinist and preaches this doctrine often and strongly, though unlike Piper, he does not advocate separating from non-Calvinist evangelicals over the issue. Despite this somewhat more conciliatory attitude towards other evangelicals and his more flexible behavioral code, critics of Driscoll point out that his embrace of culture appears only skin deep. While rejecting legalism in regards to certain behavioral practices, Driscoll is still openly hostile to the deeper ethos of a postmodern culture and any Christians who might embrace it, dismissing their relativistic views as no more than thinly veiled excuses for sexual sin, and warning that the “demons” of postmodernity will ultimately result in “pandemonium” if the church does not guard against them.[26]

Emphases on sexual ethics and gender roles also feature frequently in Driscoll’s preaching, as they do among neo-fundamentalists in general. Driscoll frequently decries gender equality as the source of many ills in both society and the church, preaching that men are to be breadwinners and the heads of their households and that a woman’s God-given role is raising kids and supporting her husband within the home.[27] He sees feminism and what he deems to be “feminine” modes of piety as the source of much decline in the modern church, and seeks to reverse the trend by reclaiming a supposedly more “masculine” approach to Christianity, which for Driscoll almost invariably involves displays of violence.[28] For instance in a 2007 interview Driscoll explained:

Some emergent types [want] to recast Jesus as a limp-wrist hippie in a dress with a lot of product in His hair, who drank decaf and made pithy Zen statements about life while shopping for the perfect pair of shoes. [But] In Revelation, Jesus is a prize fighter with a tattoo down His leg, a sword in His hand and the commitment to make someone bleed. That is a guy I can worship. I cannot worship the hippie, diaper, halo Christ because I cannot worship a guy I can beat up.[29] Driscoll’s justification for such violent rhetoric is that winning men back to the church requires a faith that glorifies violence and power as expressions of masculinity.

Driscoll’s influence among the next generation of neo-fundamentalist leaders is considerable. His hip, sharp-edged style is mimicked by many young church planters who look to him and his church as a model for effective, innovative and culturally relevant ministry, and his balance of this approach with an affirmation of neo-fundamentalist doctrines and gender norms is likely to become the dominant trend among neo-fundamentalists in the years to come.

Are They Fundamentalists?

George Marsden has defined the fundamentalism of the early 20^th century as “militantly anti-modernist Protestant evangelicalism,” and argues that this militant opposition to the cultural and theological trends of their day was what most clearly set off fundamentalists from other evangelicals.[30]And while cultural and theological trends have moved on since that time, some Protestant evangelicals still find themselves militantly opposed to the current culture of postmodernity, and this open hostility is likewise what sets them off from other evangelicals today. It is not just postmodernism in the secular culture against which neo-fundamentalists are reacting, however. More significantly, they are concerned about the ways in which postmodern ideas seem to be filtering into the evangelical church, both in subtle manifestations like the consumer-oriented Christianity of the “seeker-driven” mega-churches, as well as more explicitly postmodern forms of faith like the emerging church movement. And just as the original fundamentalists separated themselves from other evangelicals they felt had accommodated too much to modernity, the neo-fundamentalists seem to be at the beginning stages of a similar separation from those evangelicals they feel are too much influenced by postmodernity.

Drawing such a comparison between old and new fundamentalists can be useful in a number of ways to the historian and other contemporary observers. First among these benefits is the ability to distinguish between different types of evangelicals in America. Media commentators and even many scholars often seem unable to recognize the difference between fundamentalists and evangelicals, much less the numerous other distinctions within the multifaceted evangelical movement. For this reason, identifying neo-fundamentalism as a distinct movement should be helpful in gaining a more nuanced picture of contemporary evangelicalism.

Positively identifying this reactionary movement as a type of fundamentalism is also useful in allowing comparisons between the neo-fundamentalists and other forms of fundamentalism, both historic and contemporary. The Fundamentalism Project for instance, directed by Martin Marty and R. Scott Appleby, compared multiple fundamentalist-type movements across every major religion and made a strong case for “family resemblances” which occur among most of these movements.[31] Greater understanding of fundamentalism in general and of neo-fundamentalism in particular may be reached by analyzing this new movement in comparison with or in contrast to these other fundamentalisms.

Finally, understanding this neo-fundamentalist movement as analogous to historic Protestant fundamentalism may be useful, though reservedly so, in predicting possible future developments and trajectories for the movement. It will be interesting to see, for instance, whether neo-fundamentalists will in fact follow the separatist path of their fundamentalist forbears – creating new institutions separate from the mainstream of evangelicalism, or whether they will find a way to remain within the evangelical movement even while critiquing it. If current trends hold, they may even become the dominant force within North American evangelicalism over the next decade and beyond.

About “Judging God’s Morality”

Recently an acquaintance asked me if I am guilty of “judging God’s morality.” He explained that his reason for asking is my answer to my student’s question “If it were revealed to you in a way you could not doubt that God is as Calvinism says, would you still worship him?” My answer was “No.” Apparently this response caused my acquaintance some consternation. I responded that I didn’t see why. He further explained that it seemed to him inappropriate to judge God. “But, I said, I’m not judging God. God is worshipful; I worship him. How is that judging God?” My acquaintance replied “But you said you wouldn’t worship God if he was as Calvinism says.” Again, my response was a puzzled “So what?” But I could see my acquaintance was still dissatisfied. So I reflected on his question a bit more and waited until I felt perhaps I understood his concern and then replied. Here’s my reply to him:

If I am guilty of “judging God’s morality,” so is everyone else. Unless, of course, someone is a nominalist—a person who believes God doesn’t have a definite character but is capable of having whatever character he chooses to have. Such a person probably also believes that whatever God does is automatically good and right, that is, morally righteous and worthy of worship just because he’s God. C. S. Lewis gave us the test for determining whether someone is a nominalist or a realist with regard to their belief about God. The test is a question: “Is something good because God wills it or does God will it because it is good?” A nominalist will answer that something is good just because God wills it. A “realist,” someone who believes God has a definite character, will answer that God wills something because it is good. There’s a world of difference between those views of God.

If a person claims he doesn’t “judge God’s morality” it can only be because he is a nominalist. To such a person I ask “What makes God worthy of worship?” The answer must be “just because he’s God.” To that I can only respond “Oh, really? Why, then, do Psalm 106 and 118 (among other passages of the Bible) say to worship God because he’s good? It’s obvious to me that the Psalmist was telling his listeners (and us who read his Psalms) that God is worshipful, whereas “the gods” are not, because our God, the true God, is good. And, according to Psalm 106, God is good because “his steadfast love endures forever.”

Was the Psalmist judging God’s morality? Is someone who obeys him by worshiping God BECAUSE he’s good judging God’s morality? It seems ridiculous to say so.

I said everyone judges God’s morality—unless they are a nominalist. I don’t really know what to say to a nominalist except that I don’t really know how you can believe a being, even the supreme being of the universe, is worshipful just for existing. It seems to me that is to baptize naked power as worshipful.

What I get from the Bible is that God is worshipful because he is good. Yes, also because he is all powerful and holy.  But it’s a package deal. Take away goodness and he wouldn’t be worshipful. That’s how I understand Psalm 106 and Psalm 118.

Now, to my acquaintance who’s worried that I might be wrongly judging God’s morality I asked: What if it were revealed to you in such a way that you couldn’t doubt that God is really Satan , that Satan and God are one and the same being? He said he couldn’t imagine such a thing. I asked him to imagine it, even if it is inconceivable that it could ever happen. Finally, he said that, no, if he came to believe that God and Satan are one and the same person, he would not worship him. I asked him if that isn’t “judging God’s morality?” No, he replied, because I’m not evaluating the real God’s morality; I’m evaluating (somehow he had trouble using the word “judging”—for understandable reasons, because it’s a loaded term) an imaginary being who doesn’t exist as unworthy of worship. Right.

Then I asked my acquaintance what if it were revealed to you in a way you couldn’t doubt that the god of Mormonism is the true God. His response was that if somehow he had to believe that he would not worship God. I asked him if that means he’s judging God. He said no because that’s in the realm of the imaginary and hypothetical. Right.

I cannot imagine any Christian saying that if it were revealed to him in a way he could not doubt that God is as Mormonism says (a human being) he would still worship him. The main reason most Christians don’t consider Mormonism a form of Christianity is precisely because its god is not worshipful. By what standard? By the standard given to us by God himself in Scripture. Is saying that you would not worship the god of Mormonism if he were the only true God “judging God?” I wouldn’t think any Christian would put it quite that way, but there’s a sense in which it’s correct. But it’s very misleading because it’s not judging the real God’s worthiness of worship; it’s judging an imaginary God’s worthiness of worship.

Back to what makes God worthy of worship. When I go to a church and the worship leaders says “Let’s worship God just for being God” I don’t go along with that. I don’t worship God just for being God UNLESS what is meant is “because being good is what it means to be God.” That’s what Psalm 106 and Psalm 118 (among other passages) are saying.

But wait, my acquaintance interjected. Aren’t you using your own autonomous standard of “goodness” to evaluate God? Aren’t you judging God’s goodness by your idea of goodness? Not at all, I replied. The standard of goodness I’m using as the criterion is the one given by God himself—loving kindness and steadfast love. That’s the standard I’m using to judge OTHER so-called “gods.” I’m not “judging” my God, the God of the Bible, at all. I’m simply accepting the standard he has revealed for worshipfulness and using it to rule out worshiping other gods (which, of course, don’t exist as real gods because they’re not worshipful).

Okay, my acquaintance finally said, but it just seems there’s something wrong with saying you wouldn’t worship God “if.” I don’t see why, I replied. I’m only saying that I wouldn’t worship God if he weren’t worshipful, which he is.

Finally my acquaintance asked if I am saying Calvinists aren’t worshiping the true God. I haven’t accused Calvinists of that, I responded. I’ve only said that’s why I’M not a Calvinist—because IF I believed what they believe about God I would have to also believe what they don’t believe about God. They say God is good. I’m not sure exactly what they mean, but I take them at their word and say they are simply being inconsistent when they ALSO say they believe that God predestined the fall and fallen people to hell. That’s simply incompatible with the standard of goodness given by God himself and applied to himself as the reason to worship him in Scripture.

And here we go again…another case of Calvinist misrepresentation of Arminianism

Twenty years ago I picked up and read the first issue of Modern Reformation magazine. It was a special issue on Arminianism. On the cover was a reproduction of a popular tract that showed a ballot with a sinner’s eternal destiny at stake in the election. God voted for the sinner; Satan voted against him and he got to cast the deciding vote. Every article in the issue blasted Arminianism and Arminian theology as semi-Pelagianism. I answered those accusations and corrected those misrepresentations in Arminian Theology: Myths and Realities.

Over the years I have had many conversations with Modern Reformation’s editor Mike Horton and we have become friends in spite of our disagreement over “the doctrines of grace.” I THINK I have convinced him that real, classical Arminianism is not semi-Pelagianism. He even invited me to write an article for MR on the prosperity gospel and its roots in New Thought—the 19^th century positive thinking movement.

The current issue of MR (21:1, January 2012) celebrates twenty years of MR. I congratulate them. I have seen a lot of progress in MR’s fairness toward other theologies over the years. It has matured a great deal. Much of the time I actually enjoy reading it and I agree with much in it.

The current issue contains a few lines from me about Arminianism and for that I’m grateful. Also, it contains a lead article entitled “Grace, Sin, and Will: The Structure of the Debate by “The Modern Reformation Staff.” It is a fair representation of the various viewpoints in Christian history: Pelagianism, semi-Pelagianism, Arminianism and Augustinian-Calvinism (monergism). This is the kind of nuanced description I have been arguing for among Calvinists (and Arminians) for years.

However, the issue also contains an article entitled “Dead Men Can’t Dance” by Scott E. Churnock, pastor of Christ Presbyterian Church in St. Louis. This one goes backwards—to misrepresenting Arminianism. I wish the editors of MR would forbid this sort of thing or at least publish the usual line that “views expressed in this publication do not necessarily reflect the editor’s). For example Churnock writes that “When tested against the biblical standard, Arminianism displays a faulty anthropology. It frequently attributes to unbelievers spiritual abilities they do not possess.”

The author also describes the “run-of-the-mill evangelical Arminianism” as “a philosophical position.” It, he says, “affirms that all people have ‘free will.’ To be truly ‘free,’ a person’s will cannot be constrained in any way. ‘Free will’ is the freedom to choose apart from any influence other than a person’s will.” (p. 32) And on and on.

Has Rev. Churnock not read my book? Or any book of Arminian theology? No real Arminian believes that about free will. In fact, I don’t know anyone who believes that about free will. Especially classical Arminianism doesn’t believe that. What about prevenient grace? Doesn’t Rev. Churnock know about that crucial Arminian doctrine? Even if he doesn’t agree with it, it’s wrong not to at least mention it as part of Arminian doctrine. He clearly doesn’t understand classical Arminianism’s affirmation of total depravity.

Probably Rev. Churnock would defend himself by saying that he is talking about “popular, run-of-the-mill Arminianism” and not “classical Arminianism.” How many of his readers will understand that? Not many. Most will read the article and think that is what Arminianism teaches. At one point in the article the author tips his hat to “classical Wesleyan Arminianism” which, he says, “still [has] a place for grace.” But, he goes on, “the popular Arminianism of contemporary evangelicalism is in fact semi- or even full-blown Pelagianism. I’ll call this ‘pop Arminianism’.” But then, later in the article, he drops the “pop” and just calls it “Arminianism.” Sorry, that’s not good enough.

To Rev. Churnock  I pose this question: What if I published an article describing Calvinism as belief that God is the author of sin and evil admitting that certain types of Calvinists “have a place” for God’s love but go on to write about “Calvinism” as if it teaches that God is hate and not love? Wouldn’t they howl in protest? I would expect them to. So why do they continue to do that (or allow it in their publications) to Arminians? Isn’t this bearing false witness?

I appreciate MR’s progress in fairness and in its normal description of Arminianism as different from semi-Pelagianism. It’s a huge leap from 1992’s Arminianism issue. But this article is a setback.

I have one other complaint about Rev. Churnock’s article. At least I assume he wrote it. It’s a side bar in his article called “Difficult Passages.” It attempts to show that 2 Peter 3:9 does not really teach that God desires all to be saved. (In my opinion it engages in some pretty tortuous exegesis.) But why doesn’t it even mention 1 Timothy 2:4 which clearly states that God desires everyone to be saved? Sure, some Calvinists also try to get around that with tortuous exegesis, but to ignore it altogether as if 2 Peter 3:9 is the only verse Arminians can mention to support belief in God’s universal will for salvation seems strange at best.

Again, I applaud MR for its commitment to serious, if not sound, theology and its desire to be fair in describing other theological views. But I urge the editors to refuse to publish articles that fail the test of fairness.

I have an essay all ready to post here and was going to do it today. It’s about the current issue of Modern Reformation magazine and an article in it that misrepresents Arminianism. I’ll post it next time (Lord willing).

One commenter today inspired me to share a story of God’s intervention in my life recently. I know some aren’t going to believe it, but I don’t really care. I think sharing stories of God alive and well and at work is an important part of being evangelical. We don’t have “testimony time” in our church, so this is the place for me to share such things.

A couple years ago I was working on my book Against Calvinism. One thing that was a burning issue for me was to display non-Arminian evangelical Christian scholars who disagree with “high Calvinism.” I thought it was almost worthless to just quote Arminian scholars. I very much wanted to show that the kind of “radical Reformed theology” I criticize in the book is also criticized by some Reformed theologians.

I couldn’t find just the right source to use. The revisionist Reformed theologians I knew about who published against TULIP and double predestination were not really evangelicals in our American sense of the word. One I admire very much and did quote in the book is Alan P. F. Sell–former theological secretary of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches (WARC–now the World Communion of Reformed Churches). But Alan, though a wonderful Christian whose writings in theology I have reviewed several times and always appreciatively, is not part of the “evangelical subculture” of America. I knew what he had to say wouldn’t probably impress American evangelicals “on the fence,” so to speak, between evangelical Arminianism and evangelical Calvinism.

This problem was weighing on my mind heavily and causing me to have temporary “writer’s block.” I did make it a matter of prayer.

One day I was in another city and found a used theological bookstore. I can never stay away from those! I went in and spent a couple hours browsing with nothing particular in mind. At the moment I had put aside my dilemma and Against Calvinism and was just waiting for something to come along and break the impasse I felt I was at.

The selection of used theological books was huge–covering an entire wall (about 25 feet) floor to ceiling. (And this was just the systematic theology section! The bookstore has thousands of used books on all subjects related to Christianity.) Most of the books were fundamentalist and Calvinistic. The usual suspects were in prominent display: Spurgeon, Pink, Boettner, Sproul, et al. Then, lo and behold, my eyes fell on a book I had never heard of before by an author I had only read once–and that only an essay in an edited volume. The title piqued my interest for some reason even though it didn’t really stand out from the rest. In fact, the title on the book’s spine didn’t even indicate anything about Calvinism. “The Freedom of God.” But something moved me to take it down from the shelf and look at it. I saw at once the author “James Daane” and the subtitle “A Study of Election and Pulpit.” (Eerdmans, 1973) I had read that one essay by Daane but knew nothing else about him. The essay was “Can a man bless God?” in God and the Good–a collection of essays honoring a Reformed theologian edited by Clifton Orlebeke and Lewis Smedes. I remembered thinking the thesis of the essay that, yes, a person can “bless God” was a bit odd for a Reformed theologian (which I could tell Daane was from something in the book or in his essay).

I felt that little thrill of serendipity that comes when you come across something unexpected but potentially helpful. So I sat down in a corner and started reading The Freedom of God. Well, if you’ve read Against Calvinism you know the rest of the story. Daane (1914-1983) was a minister of the Christian Reformed Church of America–a conservative Calvinist denomination. (Some of my cousins were members when I was growing up and I always marveled at their church youth group’s name–”Young Calvinists!”) Daane clearly was NOT your typical Calvinist, though. But he was clearly evangelical and Reformed in his basic theological orientation.

To make a long story short, this was the book I needed and I found it purely by accident, by sheer coincidence. (I have never seen it in any other bookstore and I have perused the theology sections of used bookstores for many years.) Or was it purely by accident, a sheer coincidence?

The book energized me to keep writing; I now had the missing piece. Daane’s polemic against what he calls “decretal theology” is powerful. By “decretal theology” he means double predestination and all that surrounds it–a God removed from history and suffering and turned into a tyrant.

Unfortunately the book is out of print. But if you can buy it used or borrow it, I strongly urge it. There is no question of Daane’s commitment to biblical authority or of his evangelical credentials. He taught theology at Fuller Theological Seminary in the 1950s and 1960s.

So what actually happened there “behind the scenes?” Was this a “God thing?” Well, I am convinced it was. I don’t expect others, especially Calvinists, to think so. On the other hand, if they are consistent Calvinists, they have to believe it was! After all, nothing happens that is not foreordained and rendered certain by God. I believe it was an answer to prayer. I’m not sure I would have finished the book without Daane’s book.

Here I was, in the middle of writing my book Against Calvinism and stymied by a lack of a source. I had prayed about it. I was actually in anguish over it. I decided to take a couple of days and drive to that distant city to visit my nephew and his wife and to hear a friend lecture at the Christian college my nephew attended. (My friend was a guest lecturer that weekend.) I didn’t really have a great reason to go. It’s a 10 hour drive each way. But I felt “led” to go. And then I saw the bookstore. And then I spend a long time perusing the shelves finding nothing. And then I found the much-needed book I didn’t even know existed (and I don’t know any better one to fit the need).

I guess God wanted me to write that book.

Egalitarianism (with regard to marriage) is the view that in a marriage husband and wife should agree before any decisions are made or actions taken that affect the family (whether that be just them as a couple or includes children). Whether one or the other is called “the leader” of the family is irrelevant (although, of course, most contemporary egalitarians do not like that designation especially for the husband!). I judge that a couple has an egalitarian marriage insofar as neither one makes any decision or takes any action that affects both without advice and consent of the other.

If a person thinks he or she is a “complementarian” but agrees with that, I judge that he or she is not truly a complementarian IN THE CONTEMPORARY sense of that label in Evangelicalism–unless one can be BOTH an egalitarian AND a complementarian at the same time (which would seem ridiculous to me).

If a person does NOT agree with that, then I worry that he or she is in a hierarchical, dysfunctional relationship that both subjects truth to power and will lead to abuse (not necessarily physical, but not all abuse is physical). I suspect that MOST conservative evangelicals who think they are complementarians, when push comes to shove, will agree with my stated thesis above and then, at least in that moment, be really more egalitarian than complementarian (if complementarian means anything different from egalitarian).

Truth, Authority and Roles

“He who begins by loving Christianity, better than truth, will proceed by loving his own sect or church better than Christianity, and end in loving himself better than all.” (Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Aids to Reflection)

Consider this little essay background explanation of why I am against complementarianism and hierarchy in general. Hierarchy, including complementarianism, emphasizes roles and “authority over” and “submission to” based on them. In other words, to put it bluntly, hierarchy is the manner of organization of a social unit (especially the family) so that assigned (or assumed) roles matter more than truth.

Hierarchy is more than an organizational flow chart. Hierarchy exists where a person’s authority over others is independent of truth. A social unit, organization, can have leadership without hierarchy. Hierarchy is when the leadership’s power over those led is independent of accountability to truth. Hierarchy naturally inclines toward abuse because of our fallen nature. Its social structure encourages abuse and subjects truth to power-over.

Christians claim to be concerned with and committed to truth. And yet we betray that concern and commitment when we insist on hierarchy. Hierarchical Christians, like all hierarchical people, show by their organizational theory and behavior a preference for power and control over truth.

Let me illustrate. In 1633 Galileo, a faithful son of the Catholic Church, was brought before the Inquisition and found guilty of being “vehemently suspect of heresy” and was put under house arrest and forbidden to publish. The church hierarchy knew that Galileo was right about the heliocentric solar system. (Technically, they knew Copernicus was right and Galileo was right about agreeing with it!) What Galileo was really punished for was disobeying the church that had ordered him in 1616 to abandon all attempts to demonstrate the Copernican system publicly. (He was allowed to write about it as a mathematical fiction only.) This is a clear case of truth being trumped by power, i.e., hierarchy.

The second illustration is Luther. In this case, the church did not know that Luther was right about justification, but Luther stood up to role power and refused to bow to the authority of those above him in the hierarchy of church and empire. At Worms he clearly believed, however temporarily, that truth mattered more than roles. As a lowly monk he faced off against the pope and the emperor on the ground that truth was on his side.

The irony is that many people who consider Luther a great hero nevertheless talk about hierarchy as if Luther was wrong. During his controversy with the pope and the emperor some of Luther’s counselors strongly advised him to bow to their (the pope’s and emperor’s) authority even if he knew them to be wrong.

This is all very personal to me. Over my years of involvement in Christian organizations I have observed (and been involved in) many situations where truth was put second to role-power (or ignored altogether for the sake of sustaining hierarchy). I taught theology at Oral Roberts University for two years. It was my first full time teaching position. There I observed and heard of many examples of this. (ORU is now under entirely new management and I trust [and hear that] nothing like that is happening now.)

My point in all this is a simple one. When a person in a position of authority is manifestly wrong and a person under his or her authority is manifestly right, true authority belongs, in that instance, with the “underling.” For a Christian, especially, to assert the “rightness” of the authority of the person in the wrong just because he or she holds a position, is a betrayal of truth. It is the job of all lovers of truth to hold others, including those higher in the “chain of command,” accountable to truth. And it is the job of all lovers of truth to bow to it even when it is being communicated by someone lower in the “chain of command.”

When my daughters were children I followed this policy with them. When we disagreed, if they were right and I was wrong, I admitted it and allowed their truth (the truth) to prevail.

This is one reason I am a Baptist; true Baptists have no chain of command. We have leadership, but no hierarchy. There is no Baptist person who has authority over other Baptists simply by virtue of his or her role. There are Baptist persons who are recognized as leaders because of their spiritual depth, higher knowledge and wisdom, education and training, etc. However, only God is considered infallible and always to be obeyed. And just because a person holds a certain position or role in the church or convention does not make him or her automatically “right.” (Note: I am not saying only Baptists have this polity.)

A good biblical example is Peter and Paul at Antioch. Peter was over Paul in the early Christian “flow chart.” And yet Paul stood up to him and criticized him when he refused to eat with gentile converts. The truth was on Paul’s side. In a hierarchy Peter would have been considered functionally right even if truth was on Paul’s side. Another biblical example is from the Old Testament—David and Nathan. The prophet Nathan confronted the king about his sin; truth was on Nathan’s side even though David was most definitely above him in the hierarchy. At that moment, hierarchy was suspended for the sake of truth.

I suspect that many people, including many Christians, prefer hierarchy to truth because hierarchy makes things more orderly, controlled and predictable. Authority-as-truth can be messy. But anything else is a form of idolatry (or at least an opening to idolatry) because God and truth are inseparable. To prefer power to truth is always wrong.

Questions such as “But how do we know the truth?” are irrelevant to the case I’m making unless one denies truth altogether. Then, of course, all we have is power. Whether anyone can know truth as God knows it (completely and perfectly) is not the issue. The issue is simply this: When I believe someone has the truth, I should follow that person in that instance even if it means going against authority. (Of course a person has to take prudence into account.) But even more importantly, the issue is: This holds true even and especially when I am the person “officially” over the person with truth in the organizational flow chart. If I believe he or she is speaking truth, I should bend to that truth even if the person discovering it and presenting it is the lowliest person on the organizational flow chart. To do otherwise is a form of idolatry.

When I was growing up in certain Pentecostal circles, a favorite biblical verse quoted often by my parents and mentors was 1 Chronicles 16:22 (echoed in Psalm 105:15): “Touch not mine anointed.” To them it meant “Never criticize or question those ‘in authority’ over you—especially in the church and denomination.” People who dared to criticize or question those “in authority” were labeled “negative” and ostracized. It wasn’t just a matter of how one did it; simply doing it was considered unspiritual. This mentality led to all kinds of abuses in our church and denomination and movement.

This is why I am adamantly opposed to so-called “complementarianism.” No matter how much they say that the husband should love his wife as Christ loves the church, they (the leading complementarian preachers and scholars) are handing husbands the right to ignore truth when it is his wife who has it and he doesn’t—that is, when his wife is right and he is wrong. I am waiting to read or hear a complementarian say to Christian husbands: “When your wife is right, she is right and you must obey the truth.” (I don’t expect them to say “You must obey her;” that would be expecting too much!)

Nothing in the New Testament contradicts this. In fact, I think it is everywhere assumed there. I cannot imagine Paul or any other apostle saying to anyone “I’m right and you’re wrong even though you’re right and I’m wrong.” To Timothy, a young apostle-in-training, he said “Do not let anyone despise your youth.” (1 Timothy 4:12) Clearly what he meant was “Don’t let anyone ignore or oppose your truth, when you are right, just because you’re young.”

In my opinion, “complementarianism” is an open door to abuse and idolatry. (I am not saying it is abuse or idolatry.) At the very least I insist that complementarians admit and teach that truth matters more than role—even outside spiritual matters pertaining to salvation and morality. If the husband believes his wife is right about something, that is, truth is on her side in a disagreement, he ought to let her decide. It shouldn’t even be a matter of “letting her decide.” A mature Christian person should automatically follow the truth wherever it may be found. But when I say “let her decide” I am talking to complementarians in their language (even though to egalitarian ears it sounds patriarchal).

I began this essay with a quote from Samuel Taylor Coleridge. I would very much like to see it displayed on church marquees and carved into the marble above the entrances to Christian organizations. The point it is making is one of the most important points ever made. Truth matters more than anything else—even love. Ephesians 4:15 does not say “Let love over ride truth.” It says “speaking the truth in love….” This does not mean license to hate! It means that love should never allow truth to be denied. Love may hide the truth for a while, depending on how important the truth is. But truth that matters to the well-being of people, whether individuals or communities, must not be set aside but communicated in a spirit of love.

I’m afraid that “complementarians” love authority and roles more than truth. If so, they may end up by loving themselves “better than all.”

Following up on my earlier post about evangelical complementarianism…

I now see that it is possible to interpret the evangelical seminary dean’s comments about Eve being “cursed in her role before the fall” as NOT implying that she was cursed before the fall. The syntax of his sentence is tricky. I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt here because it seems to me to say that Eve was cursed before the fall would be very strange indeed (if not a bit crazy).

As I said in response to one comment here, however, it does seem to me that at least SOME evangelical complementarians’ view of women implies that Eve was cursed before the fall. What is permanent, docile, subordination and submission if not a curse? To any doubter of that, let me pose a question: Suppose you knew that, in your life, you would always be like a child in relation to someone else no matter what your IQ might be, no matter what knowledge you gained, no matter what skills you acquired, etc. You would forever (at least in this life) be required to obey UNQUESTIONINGLY someone else. What is that but a curse?

I have held discussions with complementarians many times over the years. I’ve been immersed in evangelicalism and Christian higher education; I’ve pastored, taught, edited a scholarly journal, served as deacon and church board member, interim pastor, etc., etc. Throughout those 30 years of deep immersion in the evangelical subculture I have had many opportunities to dialogue with informed complementarians. I have read many of their articles and books. I have listened to them speak. There is ONE QUESTION they have never even seriously attempted to answer. I have posed it to many of them and the uniform response has been “Well, I’ll have to think about that and get back to you.” They never do.

So here’s my question. Feel free to pose it to your complementarian friends, family, teachers, pastors, whatever, and let me know what they say. Or maybe you have an answer. Feel free to offer it here. But what I’d really like to know is what do the leading evangelical complementarian theorists say?

THE QUESTION:

Suppose a married couple comes to you (the complementarian pastor or counselor or whatever) for advice. They are both committed evangelical Christians who sincerely want to “do the right thing.” They are trying to live according to the guidelines of evangelical complementarianism. However, a problem has arisen in their marriage. The wife acquired sound knowledge and understanding of finances including investments before the couple became Christians. The husband is a car mechanic who knows little to nothing about finances or investments. A good, trusted friend has come to the husband and offered him an opportunity to make a lot of money by investing the couple’s savings (money for their childrens’ college educations and for retirement) in a capital venture. The husband wants to do it. The wife, whose knowledge of finances and investments is well known and acknowledged by everyone, is adamantly opposed to it and says she knows, without doubt, that the money will be lost in that particular investment. She sees something in it the husband doesn’t see and she can’t convince him that it is a bad investment. The husband wants to take all their savings and put it into this investment, but he can’t do it without his wife’s signature. The wife won’t sign. However, after long debate, the couple has agreed to leave the matter in your hands. The husband insists this is a test of the wife’s God-ordained subordination to him. The wife insists this is an exception to their otherwise complementarian marriage. You, the complementarian adviser of the couple, realize the wife is right about the investment. The money will be lost if the investment is made. You try to talk the husband out of it but he won’t listen. All he’s there for is to have you decide biblically and theologically what she, the wife, should do. What do you advise?

I have posed this or a similar scenario to many complementarians without definite response. My thought is this: IF the complementarian says the wife should sign in spite of her knowledge, just because the husband says so (and she is obliged by scripture to obey him), he is simply being unreasonable because where would such obedience stop? If the complementarian says it stops at the line of Christian conscience (i.e., wives are not required to obey their husbands if they command them to sin), he has to define “sin” in such a way as to exclude from it the wife’s knowing participation in financial ruin for their whole family. If the complementarian says this is an exception and the wife is not obligated to sign, he is ripping complementarianism to pieces. He is then admitting that obedience is tied to knowledge and not to role.

I think this is a defeating dilemma to rigid complementarianism such as I hear it taught and read it promoted in much of conservative evangelicalism. I’m not at all surprised I’ve never received a definite answer to it from any complementarian. It’s a true conundrum that exposes the impossibility of consistent complementarianism.

I fully expect some complementarian to say the wife should sign and trust God to honor her obedience. I seriously doubt any adviser would actually say that to the wife in the counseling situation. If so, then I can only consider that an example of the kind of legalism Jesus countered in the Pharisees. Jesus said the “the law” was made for man not man for the law. Jesus had no trouble “working” on the sabbath when it was a matter of healing someone or finding food to eat for his disciples.

So, there’s my challenge. Please let me know your thoughts and those of your complementarian acquaintances.