Roger E. Olson

According to news reports, presidential candidate Rick Santorum is not bringing theology into the presidential campaign. (Of course, it has already come up with regard to Mitt Romney’s LDS membership.) Apparently, Santorum has said that Obama’s theology is wrong because it favors the earth more than humanity.

Two questions come to mind. First, is introducing theology into a political campaign appropriate? CNN raised that question and asked a Harvard religion professor. His answer was ambiguous. I think it is appropriate INSOFAR as one candidate has made statements or promoted policies with clear theological implications and the responding candidate is talking to a group with theological commitments. The public square does not need to be “naked” (devoid of religious language). I get nervous, however, when theology becomes a litmus test for candidates’ qualifications for office.

Second, since when is what’s good for the earth bad for humanity? Does Rick Santorum think God created humanity but not the earth as humanity’s habitat? I suppose he is thinking that it’s wrong to protect an animal species at the expense of human jobs. That’s the usual context of such statements.

This is what occurs to me about that. I think (I could be wrong) that Santorum does not believe in “blind” evolution. If that’s the case, then aren’t all species God’s creations? Does God create anything without meaning and purpose? If someone says a species’ purpose is for humanity’s sake, that still doesn’t explain why it would be good to destroy it.

Now, IF it came down to “humanity OR this particular animal species” as a matter of survival, I suppose I would favor humanity. But is that ever really the case?

It seems to me that Santorum’s theology of creation is flawed. God created the earth and all that is in and on it for a reason. God assigned humans the task of taking care of the earth. (We have too often wrongly interpreted that assignment as permission to exploit and destroy nature.) Shouldn’t we do the most we can to preserve and protect all of creation–especially the existence of every species? We might think a particular species (e.g., a particular type of snail) is dispensible, but if we think God created it, who are we to make that decision? Isn’t that usurping God’s place?

It seems to me that all Christians, Rick Santorum included, should care about the earth and everything on it because God is the creator of it all. IF Obama is looking for ways to protect and preserve animal species without destroying people, then what can be wrong with that? IF Obama is valuing animals or plants above humans, a critic should be very specific and when and where and how that is the case. I’m not aware of it.

I grew up Pentecostal and became Baptist. I tell Baptists attracted to high church worship that “Baptist is as high church as I can go.”

I composed this little axiom to explain much of what goes on in American Christianity: Pentecostals want to be Baptists or Methodists; Baptists and Methodists want to be Presbyterians or Episcopalians; Presbyterians and Episcopalians want to be Catholics; Catholics want to be Pentecostal.

Over the years I’ve observed what I call (I didn’t coin this phrase!) “the lure of the other” in churches and among Christians. Especially those with education seem never satisfied to be what they have been. They are always looking around for something better to imitate.

Yes, I succumbed to that lure. But I didn’t really have a choice. I desperately wanted to remain Pentecostal, but my Scandinavian-Germanic genes just wouldn’t let me get my hands high enough (is the way I like to put the fact that I just couldn’t be sufficiently emotional to please my Pentecostal mentors and friends). Also, I was kicked out; I didn’t leave voluntarily. The Baptists took me in.

Several Baptist churches and institutions I’ve been part of want very much to incorporate high church Protestant and Catholic practices into Baptist worship and spirituality. And it’s not only among churches with the word “Baptist” in their name. So I’ll switch now and speak instead of “baptist” by which I mean free churches James McClendon’s sense. It includes Pentecostals, Evangelical Free, Brethren, etc.

Baptists (baptists) often realize that our tradition focuses too much on “learning and serving” and not enough on experiencing God. Some of us discover and embrace the latent Pietism in our own tradition. But I fear for the most part we’ve put it in the closet and closed the door out of fear of fanaticism. But true, historical Pietism is not fanatical. It’s just heartfelt Christianity. We often talk it, but when it comes to “doing” we emphasize “learning and serving” instead.

Not that there’s anything wrong with learning and serving! Certainly not. But can man or woman live by them alone? That is, in the immortal words of the song “Is that all there is?” Our own Pietist heritage says no, but we’ve by and large only paid lip service to that because we fear more than anything else being perceived as “like those holy rollers.” We know Lutherans (for example) think Baptists are holy rollers and we want to run from anything that would reinforce that impression. So we’ve pretty much set the Holy Spirit aside except to mention him/her once in a while as the source of our ability to serve.

But many baptists yearn for something more than “learning and serving” (and doing our Sunday morning duty). Especially those of us with college educations who call ourselves “moderates” turn toward Canterbury or Rome. Well, God forbid we’d ever say “Rome!” So let’s just say Canterbury and try to forget it was those folks who imprisoned our spiritual ancestors for refusing to use the Book of Common Prayer. Now we get comfortable with it.

So, we celebrate the church calendar, including Lent. That’s our moderate baptist way of moving beyond just “learning and serving” and doing our Sunday duty. I have nothing against it except it doesn’t really go far toward enhancing one’s experience of God “in the inner man” (as the Pietists used to say). It could, and we do our best to help it, but by itself it doesn’t fill the need we feel.

Why don’t we baptists plumb our own tradition, including its Pietist aspects, to go beyond the “learning and serving” and doing our Sunday duty syndrome? I’m not saying throw out the church calendar or Lent and all that, but I’m sad when baptists think observing Ash Wednesday is by itself a step toward experiencing God. In fact, I think for many people, all this baptist flirting with high church is just a way of putting more distance between ourselves as God. It makes us feel more in touch with Christian tradition; it helps us feel less “sectarian” and more ecumenical, but how does it really enhance a profound personal experience of God that is life transforming? By itself it can’t and won’t.

Why do we baptists, especially those of us who have some education and like to think of ourselves as sophisticated, run from everything emotional? Like I said, I’m Scandinavian-Germanic and displaying emotions doen’t come easy to me. But what I’d like to know is why we baptists are so afraid of showing a little emotion in church or talking about what God has done and is doing in our lives? In my opinion, for what it is worth, bells and smells (and observing the church calendar) just isn’t part of our heritage and always comes off as a little artificial when we do it. But warm, personal, even emotional relationship with God is part of our revivalistic heritage. (Yes, I know all about the “two Southern Baptist traditions”–Charleston and Sandy Creek and all that. But virtually all Baptists in America, anyway, have been touched by revivalism in some way. My point is that even those of us in the Sandy Creek tradition for some reason want to embrace the Charleston tradition once we get educated, affluent and sophisticated.)

IF we are going to observe the church calendar, let’s also return to our own roots and sing emotional hymns and gospel songs and give our testimonies and talk about Jesus and memorize our Bibles and give altar calls and kneel at the altar to pray. What I have observed in many “moderate” baptist churches is a tendency to run from all those things toward something we perceive as more appropriate for our stations in life and theology.

I, for one, won’t be observing Lent. I have nothing against those who do–especially if it’s part of their ecclesial tradition. Fasting has never been easy for me, but I’d prefer to observe fasting and praying throughout the year rather than during one season. The church I grew up in didn’t observe Lent, not because it was “too Catholic,” but because, for us, Good Friday was really, really good. We didn’t believe in mourning our Savior’s sacrifice; we believed in celebrating it every “communion Sunday.”

So, that’s my baptist two cents worth. Sometimes I think people who grew up baptist are a little embarrassed by it. I’m not. I’m not even embarrassed about growing up Pentecostal. I’m a little embarrassed that I took a Presbyterian detour for three years, but I’m quick to point out that it was to earn a living (as youth pastor) while working on my doctoral degree. I left as soon as I could.  But I don’t think Presbyterians by birth or by choice should be embarrassed. The only reason I’m a little embarrassed about that is that my participation wasn’t authentic. It wasn’t me. I was pretending to be something I was not. Sometimes I think some baptists are pretending to be something they’re not because they long for respectability from sophisticated society.

Those are my Lenten meditations. Please don’t be offended. If the shoes doesn’t fit, don’t wear it.

Who Is (or Might Be) An Arminian?

One of my favorite visitors and frequent commenters here has challenged me to say what I think is necessary to believe in order to qualify as an Arminian. I hesitate to do that because I want as many people as possible to qualify! I fear excluding anyone who genuinely believes he or she is an Arminian and even comes close to qualifying.

So, the approach I’ll take is threefold. First, characteristics I think are minimally necessary to qualify as an Arminian. This is my “generous Arminianism” definition. Second, additional characteristics I think are very valuable for an Arminian to possess. Third, characteristics that I think disqualify a person from being considered an Arminian.

Before launching into it, however, I should reveal how I go about making these decisions. First, I study the history of Arminianism beginning with Arminius himself and his immediate followers, the first generation Remonstrants (up through the 1620s when all the Remonstrants seemed to be faithful to Arminius’ own teachings). Second, I consider what scholars, theologians, leading ministers who regard themselves as Arminians believe. Third, I look at what scholars who are not Arminians say about it. My “anchor” tends to be Arminius himself.

I completely omit “Arminians of the head,” those Remonstrants and their heirs who veered off into rationalism, deism and liberalism. For the most part they stopped identifying as Arminians anyway.

Also before continuing with this rather dubious project, I must say that being an “Arminian” does not mean agreeing with Arminius about everything. Arminianism has always been understood, and the label treated , as a soteriological category. In other words, it is a belief system about salvation and not everything else in theology. The practical consequence of that caveat is that just because Arminius happened to believe something extraneous to soteriology does not make it necessary for Arminianism.

So, once again going where angels fear to tread…what are the minimally necessary characteristics of an Arminian? What MUST a person believe for ME to consider him or her authentically Arminian? (Notice that “necessary” and “sufficient” are not the same. This first list is of what’s necessary for me even to begin to consider whether someone might be Arminian. These are litmus tests.)

1. Commitment to a basically Protestant theology: sola scriptura, sola Christi, sola gratia et fides, justification as a declaration of righteousness by God’s grace alone because of  Christ alone, through faith alone.
2. Commitment to corporate election, conditional predestination, universal atonement,  resistible prevenient grace, and the necessity of freely accepting God’s saving grace for salvation.
3. Belief in the universal love of God and God’s desire that all be saved.

If someone passes those criteria, I am willing to at least consider that he or she may be an Arminian.

Those three minimal criteria, however, may not be sufficient for me to go on to consider the person a true, classical Arminian.  I will harbor doubts about the genuineness of the person’s Arminianism (at least as I understand that category) as long as the following characteristics are in doubt. These are not exactly litmus tests but norms.

1. Belief in total depravity such that the natural person, apart from supernatural prevenient grace, cannot respond to the outer or inner call of the gospel.
2. Belief in non-compatibilist free will as power of contrary choice restored by means of prevenient grace in matters of salvation.
3. Belief that God is not the designer of evil or innocent suffering in the world, but that these exist only because of the fall which God permitted but did not desire or plan.

Finally, there are a few characteristics that would cause me to exclude someone from being considered an Arminian.

1. Denial of the supernatural and miracles (as in liberal theology, not cessationism).
2. Denial of the deity or humanity of Jesus Christ.
3. Denial of the unique inspiration of the Bible.
4. Denial of God’s omnipotence, omniscience and omnipresence.
5. Denial of God’s eternal, unchangeable character as loving and just (nominalism).

Why the third list? Because Arminianism has always been a belief system among biblical, orthodox Protestants. (Here by “orthodox” I mean basic, generous orthodoxy, not some system of theology.)

Could someone be Arminian and not call himself or herself that? Yes. But I won’t call them Arminian if they don’t want to be called Arminian. But I reserve the right to say that their theology is consistent with Arminianism. (For example, most Anabaptists and Lutherans would not call themselves Arminians, but they might pass all my criteria, in which case I would say their theology is consistent with Arminianism.)

Might someone call himself or herself an Arminian and not truly be one? That’s the whole point of listing these criteria. Yes. Many people who think they are Arminian are really Pelagian or semi-Pelagian or simply liberal theologically.

What are some theological views held by people who are authentically Arminian that not all Arminians hold? They are too numerous to list! Cessationism. Open theism. Christian perfectionism. Subsequence of the baptism of the Holy Spirit. Dispensationalism, different views of the atonement. Etc., etc., etc. I think the Arminian tent is big and has room for lots of different secondary theological views under it. And I think it’s detrimental to the Arminian cause in the present context where Arminianism is so under attack for Arminians to divide or argue about secondary matters not essential to basic Protestant orthodoxy or Arminian soteriology.

Confession Time: My Guilty Pleasure and Secret Heresy Revealed!

Wednesday evening is my “television night.” It’s time to put aside all the books and writing and laugh. They say that laughter is the best medicine. Well, I should be very healthy at about 8:30 CST every Wednesday night. I don’t laugh out loud very often (I’m Scandinavian), but from 7:00 to 8:30 you could probably hear me a block away.

It beings with the television show “The Middle” which is both hilarious and bittersweet. (And at least on this show she doesn’t slap or kick or punch her husband like she did on “Everybody Loves Raymond.”) Funniest are the kids. Anyone who has raised children has to love it. This is a very ordinary family (rare on television!) with ordinary problems and very funny situations. It continues with “Suburgatory” which isn’t always funny, but occasionally (like tonight) is screaming funny. It’s pure satire on suburban life in America. Cartoonish, yes, but very funny anyway. More about that later. Then comes my wife’s and my favorite situation comedy, “Modern Family.” These people are both real and weird at the same time. It’s a great comedy of errors. Extremely funny without being cartoonish.

If you didn’t see tonight’s (February 15^th’s) episode of Suburgatory, I think you can watch it on the internet at ABC TV’s web site. It was about America’s absolutely insane love of sports and the way it overshadows everything else including what education is supposed to be about—education.

Now comes my confession of heresy. (I’m glad I have tenure.)

America’s education culture has gone absolutely off the deep end with sports to the detriment of academics, which is what education was supposed to be about. There. I said it. Now I may go into hiding.

Suburgatory tonight was about a suburban family that worships its high school son for his athletic prowess. They treat their high school daughter like dirt, all the while smiling, because she’s not into sports. That’s just one piece of a very excellent satire about high school sports.

How true is it? Does it deserve such sarcasm and ridicule? Very true and yes. A couple miles from where I sit there’s an enormous  new high school football stadium that must have cost several million dollars. The school district is talking about shutting down schools to save money. The city’s public libraries are tiny. There is no public swimming pool. (My city councilman says the city simply can’t afford it.)

As I drive around town I see billboards featuring the smiling countenance of a university football player who won a major trophy. When have I ever seen a billboard or even a little sign congratulating an academic achiever? Never.

The university where I teach is planning to build a huge football stadium on campus. (The present one, which is pretty big and nice, is off campus.) I hope they do. But why can’t we have a new library? Ours is okay, but it could certainly use some updating. Come to think of it, we could use a whole new one.

About a block from the seminary where I teach stands a sports museum. A sign inside says “This is not just a museum; it is a non-denominational house of worship.” Someone told me it’s a joke. It might be meant as a joke, but I don’t think it really is just a joke.

My wife and I visited a small town church a few miles from here. It was Sunday morning, the day after our university’s football team won a home game. The worship leader had the congregation stand and sing the university’s signature song (with motions!) at the beginning of the service.

Something’s wrong with this picture. University education is supposed to be about learning. Why don’t we highlight the achievements of our outstanding scholar students just as much, if not more, than our outstanding athletes?

Is there any relationship between the absolute mania for high school and college sports and the billboard that stood on a major thoroughfare near our home advertising a local business? It read “Our competitors’ prices are our prices or lower.” Could there be any relationship between the sports mania in schools and the fact that everywhere we look in advertising and signage punctuation is wrong?

Now, if I don’t say this, someone will correct me for it. The university athlete so proudly congratulated on billboards is a really nice guy and a good student, a very good student. I’ve heard that said so many times. But my point is, why then not put his GPA (which is very high) on the billboard next to his smiling handsome face? With his permission, it should be there.

I think this is one of those situations where people have simply gotten so used to things being a certain way that they don’t even bother to ask “Why?” And, of course, there’s a lot of money involved. (What sense does it really make that a football coach makes twice or more than his university president? Oh, right, he brings in a lot of money. But what I’m challenging is the culture that makes that the case.)

As a theologian I have problems with this culture that values sports more than academics. Sure, sports can also bring glory to God (I guess). But academic achievement brings invention, progress, creativity in the arts, the betterment of humanity for the common good. Or have we given up on that idea?

What I’m saying is that our values are skewed. They’re off kilter. And values should matter to us as Christians. Winning a football game or having a winning season is nice, but it doesn’t change the world for the better.

I would like to challenge education administrators to mandate that for every sports hero promoted publicly as evidence of the university’s greatness, a student scholar be equally promoted publicly for the same reason. That would at least be as step in the right direction.

Someone recently asked me here how many times a day I think about Calvinism. Well, lots. But that’s largely because people contact me by phone, letter, e-mail and in person many times every week, pretty much daily, to ask me questions about Calvinism and Arminianism because of my books, articles, radio interviews, this blog, etc. I guess I have to accept my fate as what Collin Hansen said about me in Young, Restless, Reformed–that I am the (paraphrasing) “go to guy” when it comes to anti-Calvinism. (Again, I have to emphasize because some people still don’t get it, that I am not anti-Calvinists. And I am only anti-Calvinism with regard to certain situations which I have described and will describe here again.)

Here are two examples of this from this past week. But incidents like them happen all the time and consume a great deal of my time, attention and energy.

A seminary student told me about his home church. His parents are members there and he grew up in it. It’s a Baptist church that has never had any official position on Calvinism or Arminianism. It’s background is Pietist (as opposed to, say, fundamentalist). In other words, it has traditionally had a policy of not fighting over secondary doctrines such as predestination.

The church recently called a new pastor. He is relatively young, not long out of seminary but with some previous pastoral experience. During the search and interview process he did not reveal to the committee or then to the church’s leaders that he is a five point Calvinist. Hardly anyone in the church has been a five point Calvinist and he knew very well that it would be controversial. After he was called and accepted the call, he began pushing Calvinism in a very heavy handed way. He gives books by Wayne Grudem and Mark Driscoll to adult teachers to use in preparing their lessons. He unilaterally removed books from the church library he considered unbiblical or unorthodox from a Calvinist perspective. (This is an evangelical church and probably didn’t have many, if any, really liberal books in its library.) He began to insist on being present at all church committee meetings. A committee is not supposed to meet if he cannot be there. He is preaching and teaching Calvinism as if it were the one and only truly evangelical theology. He admits to being inspired by John Piper. The students’ parents are not very knowledgeable about theology but sense that the pastor’s behavior and teaching are a problem. The congregation is gradually being disturbed by this situation.

Second, a youth pastor asked if he could meet with me. He works primarily with college age young adults. It’s a Methodist church. Recently, an increasing number of college students in his church are embracing Calvinism under the influence of Passion conferences and especially John Piper. One young female college student has natural leadership abilities and feels called to ministry, but because of Piper (and his network of surrogates) she is now doubting God’s call on her life. According to this student minister, most of the newly minted Calvinists in his group have never even heard that there are problems with Calvinism. They have embraced it thinking it is simply what the Bible teaches. They have never thought about the consequences such as the character of God. They tend to just point to Romans 9 as proof of their newfound theology.

These are typical of the stories I hear all the time.

My problem with Calvinism is both theological and practical. But, as I have said before, I have no desire to debate Calvinism with confessionally Reformed folks. I respect their tradition even as I disagree with it. What bothers me is illustrated by those two true situations. First, that many Calvinists are sneaking into pastoral positions in churches where they know Calvinism is not confessionally traditional and where they have good reason to believe it would be controversial if preached and taught as THE evangelical theology. By “sneaking in” I mean they don’t ever mention it even if asked if they have any beliefs that might be a problem for the church. They become pastor and only then, when they feel firmly ensconced, begin to preach and teach Calvinism as the one and only biblical view.

Second, many “young, restless, Reformed” Christians are adopting Calvinism without ever being told its weaknesses or objections to it by non-Calvinist Christians. It is promoted to them as if it were the one and only truly biblical, authentically evangelical, and God-honoring belief system. They take it back to their non-Calvinist church and youth group and often refuse to listen when their youth pastors or student ministers try to point out flaws in it. The impression one gets is that for SOME of them it is like they have joined a cult; their minds are firmly closed to even considering any other viewpoint or listening to any problems with it.

In years past (or about 17 years when teaching at two different Christian universities) I taught courses on cults and new religions and read dozens of books about the marks of cults. I participated in attempted interventions with family members getting caught up on cults. I am NOT accusing Calvinism of being a cult; what I am saying is that SOME young Calvinists returning from Passion conferences and devouring Piper’s and Driscoll’s books and spending hours every week watching their podcasts, following them on twitter, etc., seem to exhibit some of the traits seen in people joining a cult. Everything about this new found perspective (and the teachers they follow) is good and true; everything else is spiritually dangerous and they are not willing to take any criticism of their new perspective seriously. And I think some Calvinist pastors are behaving in a cultish fashion by being sneaky and non-transparent about their Calvinism until they feel safe and then they begin to impose it on their unsuspecting congregants in a heavy-handed manner.

Actually, what it all reminds me of is the Bill Gothard phenomenon of the 1970s. I can’t count the number of times I was told by fellow evangelical Christians that Gothard had the solution to all of life’ sproblems and if I would just attend one of his seminar…. I remember a young Gothard fan interrupting a seminary class and chastising the professor for something he said that was contrary to what Gothard taught. (The professor wisely told the student that if he really believed in “God’s chain of command” he would not contradict his professor!) I was never a fan of Gothard or his teachings; I had seen how his teachings could be used as a weapon of spiritual abuse when I was in college. We (the students) were told to stay in our place in God’s chain of command and never challenge anything the college leaders did. (The then president was not much later discovered to be misappropriating funds and was fired with the result that the college almost went bankrupt and closed!) But just because I did not “buy into” Gothard’s teachings I was often accused of being unspiritual by his fans and followers. They had the same look and “voice” as people becoming involved an several new cults that were popular at that time.

Personally, I am afraid of Christian teachers who pretend to have it all figured out so that there is no ambiguity left in Christian doctrine. I am afraid of them when they give young followers the impression they are Messiah-like figures speaking from a mountain top of perfect insight into God’s own mind. I am especially afraid of them when they speak disparagingly of fellow Christians, even fellow evangelical Christians, who hold differing beliefs about secondary doctrines.

I will say it straight out: something cultic is appearing among the young, restless, Reformed Christian followers of Piper, Driscoll, et al. Evangelical leaders need to speak up about it and express real caution to them about being overly enthusiastic about any doctrine outside of the basics of Christian orthodoxy and especially any person other than Jesus Christ himself. Instead, what I am reading is evangelical leaders saying why the young, restless, Reformed movement is good for the churches. In some ways it is; in other ways it is not.

Two nights ago I stayed up late composing a post for this blog about Stanley Hauerwas’ most recent book War and the American Difference: Theological Reflections on Violence and National Identity (Baker Academic, 2011). I ended with some questions about American flags in Christian sanctuaries of worship. Before I was able to post it to this blog, my computer crashed. I lost it completely. Fortunately, I didn’t lost much else that wasn’t already backed up on some other medium. Now I have a new PC and am ready to try to reconstruct that blog post. Thanks for your patience in the meantime.

I admit to having something of a bias against Hauerwas and that for two main reasons. First, I have seen and heard him operate on discussion panels (e.g., at American Academy of Religion meetings) and was not impressed. Second, I read his Gifford Lectures (published as With the Grain of the Universe) and was not impressed. In fact, I thought his argument there that Reinhold Niebuhr’s theology was not Christian was “in left field,” so to speak. Fortunately, it was refuted by Gabriel Fackre in Christian Century.

I am now reading War and the American Difference with a group of students and others outside the formal academic setting. One of the students chose it for our discussion and I as glad to be given the opportunity to give Hauerwas another chance. So far (having read up through Part I) I’m pleasantly surprised. What I mean by that is his argument seems very well-researched and expressed and even profound (which is not to say I agree with every aspect of it).

Hauerwas’ startling thesis (of course it’s “startling,” right?) is that “war remains for Americans our most determinative moral reality.” (p. 34) Lacking any common belief or value system, America, he says, has adopted war as the “glue” that holds us together. War is treated as “sacrifice” in a religious sense. And we are increasingly constantly at war because being at war draws us together. We need war for our American identity.

I have wondered for some time why it is the case that for the past several decades it seems America is constantly involved in some armed conflict somewhere in the world: Grenada, Panama, the Balkans, Haiti, Somalia, Kuwait and Iraq, Iraq again, Afghanistan, etc. I can’t remember a time during the past three to four decades when America was not either involved in a war militarily (beyond just sending advisers) or talking war with some specific country. Now we are hearing rumors of possible war with Iran as we are winding down in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Hauerwas argues that the “war against terrorism” is an endless war and that one of its main purposes (unconsciously?) is to keep Americans identified together in the same way that a country with an established religion holds together (more or less, of course). War has become our established quasi-religion.

Of course, H. is a pacifist, but one does not have to be a pacifist to see some cogency in his analysis of American wars. He is attempting to peer behind all the public rhetoric and even the conscious justifications of war by those who wage it and defend it to see what is really driving this apparent need always to be at war.

I am half convinced. I remember watching a religious leader, an evangelical pastor who heads up a national network of churches, being interviewed about America’s invasion of Iraq (“Shock and Awe”) when it was beginning. He said that anyone who criticized the war is a traitor. I had the strange feeling then that he meant “heretic” just as much as “traitor.” It seems that during the past few decades, any criticism of our American war efforts have been greeted with the same condemnations as a blatant heretic would be treated in an orthodox church. Has America become a quasi-church? Hauerwas thinks so and I think it’s work asking and considering.

One sort of case study (for me) is American flags in church sanctuaries. I have discussed that here before. But now I’m asking this question and would be interested in hearing answers. Why is it so important to have the American flag in the sanctuary? Beyond the bare fact that it has always been there (tradition), what makes it so essential that it be there? I’m asking this, of course, of people who do think it’s important or essential for the American flag to be in the worship sanctuary. I have met them and heard them talk, but I have not asked them this face-to-face. (One gentleman in one church said that if someone removed the flag he might do something violent about it. In anther church some people in the congregation kept returning the American flag to the worship space when the pastor moved it elsewhere in the church building.)

IF the purpose is NOT to mix Christianity with American nationalism, what is the purpose? Or, if that IS the purpose, how is that defended? Are there any thoughtful theological defenses for the American flag being there and remaining there?

I am thinking, for example, of the fact that we (Americans) gather in all kinds of placed without American flags present. Does anyone insist the flag must be everywhere they gather? What about movie theaters? I haven’t seen an American flag in one and I haven’t heard anyone argue that it ought to be there. What about restaurants? What about grocery stores and malls? What about concerts, plays, live theater performances (on or off Broadway)? My question is why Christians who are so adamant about the American flag being in the sanctuary (and it must be up front, of course) are not equally adamant about it being in all those common spaces?

Of course, my concern is that what is really going on in people’s minds, even if they are not fully aware of it, is that they mix and mingle American nationalism with their Christianity. How is that not idolatry? That is, how is it not idolatry to place the flag on the same level of importance with, say, the cross? (I know of churches where nobody would balk at the cross being removed from the sanctuary, but they would balk at the flag being removed.)

What does my question have to do with Hauerwas? Well, I would think it would be obvious. His underlying argument is not just about war; it is about civil religion. What he adds to the idea of Americanism as our civil religion is the idea of war as essential to that civil religion. My question is so far not whether he is right about war, as I don’t know how that can be proved or disproven, but about civil religion focused especially on the symbol of the flag.

It seems to me that it would be a very good test of idolatry (or lack of it) to remove the flag and see what happens. It seems to me that anyone who gets angry and insists the sanctuary must include the flag might be flirting with idolatry. Not necessarily conscious, willful idolatry, like bowing down to an idol or something, but idolatry in the sense of elevating a human symbol to absolute status alongside the symbols of the cross and the bread and wine and the Bible (as a symbol of God’s Word).

Do I have any takers? Does anyone care to explain why the American flag is essential to the Christian worship sanctuary? My mind is not made up about the issue of idolatry; I’m open to being convinced that is not the case, so please try.

Recently I talked with a reporter for a major metropolitan daily newspaper about Pentecostalism. He called me after interviewing (he said) many scholars about Pentecostalism. He said that the people most enamored with Pentecostalism were non-Pentecostal religious scholars; none of them would say a bad word about Pentecostalism. He had read my article on the dark side of Pentecostalism in Christian Century and knew I could say some negative things about the movement. (Most of the negative things I have to say about it relate to the independent Pentecostal evangelists and entrepreneurial pastors–not the leading Pentecostal denominations.)

One thing that shocked  him and me both was the responses he received to questions about the so-called Prosperity Gospel of health and wealth that is rampant among independent Pentecostal and Charismatic “Word of Faith” churches and evangelists. He told me that one sociologist of religion explained it to him as nothing more than Pentecostal pastors and evangelists trying to teach their followers how to handle money responsibly. Needless to say, I filled him in on what it really is from first hand experience with it.

As some readers here already know, my first full time teaching position was at Oral Roberts University (1982-1984). I accepted that position because, returning from my studies in Germany, I had no other option. The tenure track position was in the undergraduate theology department. For those of you “in the know” I succeeded Chuck Farah who moved to the graduate school of theology. (Chuck was a leading critic of the then-budding health and wealth, word of faith “gospel” then being proclaimed by Kenneth Hagin and Kenneth Copeland. His book From the Pinnacle of the Temple was, to the best of my knowledge, the first book length critique of it.)

I was already aware of this teaching before moving to ORU to teach in the summer of 1982. I was raised Pentecostal and there had long been a “lunatic fringe” of the movement that promised physical and financial blessings in response to prayers of faith. They were our lunatic fringe because almost to a person they prayed for people’s teeth to be filled with gold. One of them came to our town (where my father was pastor of a Pentecostal church), set up his tent, and proceeded to pray for people’s teeth to be filled with gold. Several people from our church claimed to have had their teeth so “healed” by the prayers of this evangelist. When my father strongly suggested that our people not go to those meetings, the evangelist “prophecied” that my father would be struck down with cancer for opposing him. That kind of thing was well known and common along the fringes of the Pentecostal movement in the 1950s and before.

While attending seminary I served as assistant pastor at a Pentecostal-Charismatic church. Several of our members drifted away to become followers of television evangelists. Again, the pastor of that church openly opposed the television evangelists who preached the then new version of the gospel of health and wealth that denied the sovereignty of God and made God a slot-machine (words of faith in, healings and financial blessings out). We were just seeing the end of the so-called “Shepherding/Discipleship Movement” (Derek Prince, Don Basham, et al.) when Jim Bakker and PTL went on the air with people like Kenneth Copeland and Kenneth Hagin receiving the spotlight to proclaim that God is bound to heal and bless with riches those who spoke the word with faith. (You had to speak it; you couldn’t just ask for it.)

Mainstream Pentecostal leaders were slow to respond, but eventually they did respond with “position papers” denouncing the more extreme versions of the Word-Faith movement and doctrines.

When I went to ORU in 1984 Oral Roberts was still a United Methodist. While I was there he left the UMC and joined Billy Joe Dougherty’s church that met on campus. It was an independent charismatic congregation with leanings toward the prosperity gospel. Then Oral began inviting Word-Faith preachers to speak in chapel. I will never forget the day a California-based African-American preacher of positive faith and prosperity (he boasted of owning several Rolls Royces) spoke in chapel. We were all required to attend. With students in wheel chairs in attendance he shrieked “You can’t be a good witness for Jesus from a wheel chair!” Dead silence fell over the nearly five thousand people in the Christ Chapel. Then he asked “Well? Am I right?” One usually quiet and very humble professor stood to his feet and shouted through cupped hands “NO!” Then he sat down. Many, many chapel speakers were from that wing of the Charismatic movement. Oral himself did not teach or preach an extreme version of the so-called Word-Faith message he allowed surrogates to do it for him. And when Farah’s book was published, strongly criticizing it, Oral called him on the carpet.

While I was teaching at ORU a graduate theology student was conducting research into the origins of the Word-Faith teaching and found word-for-word parallels between the writings of E. W. Kenyon, an early 20th century Pentecostal healing evangelist who had been influenced by New Thought, and Kenneth Hagin, the then leader of the Word-Faith movement. He published his findings in A Different Gospel. His name was D. R. McConnell and his critique of the “name-it-and-claim-it” movement and teaching was devastating. He proved its genesis in New Thought and demonstrated its unbiblical character while also strongly hinting that it is downright dangerous to people’s health and financial well-being (insofar as they were being taught to act like they were well and rich even when they weren’t). McConnell succeeded me when I left ORU (with a huge sigh of relief) in 1984. (Some day maybe I’ll tell more of what I saw and heard during those two years at ORU, but I don’t want to in any way hinder the work being done there since Mart Green took over a couple years ago. For now I’ll just say that before I went I read Give Me That Prime Time Religion by Jerry Sholes and couldn’t believe what it said about Oral Roberts was true. After two years teaching there I believed every word of it.)

Recently I saw a billboard a few blocks from my house on a major thoroughfare. It says “Never sick, always well; never poor, always rich–Guaranteed!” (or something like that–it’s since been removed). It cited a web site so I went there and found that a new Word-Faith church was starting up in a store front near my home. Over the past 25 years this movement has exploded in America and around the world.

The essence of the movement is this: God promises that if you have positive faith and truly believe AND speak that faith with your mouth in positive affirmations (e.g., “God is my source of healing and prosperity; I am well and rich”) God is obligated to heal you and give you financial blessings beyond your wildest dreams. It isn’t always stated that baldly, but that’s the essence of it–especially as it is HEARD by its many adherents. There are, of course, degrees of it. Oral Roberts’ version was called “Seed Faith.” It was mild compared to some of the chapel speakers’ messages. But the essential message is that God will give you abundance, meaning well-being in every sense, if you exercise faith in him for that abundance by speaking it into existence.

Now, this is a perfect example of something I recently blogged about here–that there is really little new under the sun. Anyone old enough and who was paying attention will remember “Reverend Ike.” And before him was “Father Divine” and “Daddy Grace.” And it all goes back at least to the New Thought movement started (?) by Phineas Quimby in the early 19th century. It’s main promoters were Mary Baker Eddy, Ernest Holmes and Charles and Myrtle Fillmore (founders of UNITY). It’s main popularizer was Napoleon Hill whose book Think and Grow Rich is till in print. A mild version of New Thought was popularized by Norman Vincent Peale and, through him, by Robert Schuller. New Thought entered into the fabric of American folk religion as positive thinking. But the Fillmores taught that true faith that works to bring healing and financial prosperity must be spoken in positive affirmations.

Ultimately, it goes back to the Puritans who taught that financial success was a “sign of election.” From there it entered into the American ethos and prepared the way for New Thought and the Word-Faith movement.

My point is that, in my opinion, the Word-Faith “prosperity gospel” is little more than New Thought with a Charismatic veneer thrown over it. It is heresy because it makes God into a cosmic slot machine and turns salvation into a self-centered acquisition of physical blessings. It is the perfect example of “culture religion.” The cross plays almost no role in it whatsoever–except that (according to some of its leading preachers) Jesus died spiritually before he died physically (a very gnostic idea) so that he died a mere man abandoned by his divinity. He died a “sin slave to Satan.” He descended into hell to exercise his power of faith to conquer sin, sickness and death and rose from death by the power of that faith. (I heard this all the time from students who transferred to ORU from a leading Word-Faith Bible institute across town.)

This doctrine of guaranteed healing and financial prosperity through the “spoken word of faith” ought to be opposed with all might by all evangelical Christians. In my opinion, churches and evangelists who teach it are proclaiming a false gospel.

Some Thoughts about My Conversation with Michael Horton

            I spoke about why I am “Against Calvinism” for about 15 minutes focusing on the goodness of God and how classical, “high Calvinism” is inconsistent with any meaning of “good” and “love” known to us. Then Mike spoke for about 15 minutes focusing on humanity’s depravity and God’s mercy in electing some to salvation. In other words, he also said that God is good even if not in terms of our “fairness” (because he doesn’t save everyone).

            Then we asked each other questions. I had tried to think of a question he may not have heard before. We’ve both had so many conversations with proponents of the “other side” that we have heard all the relevant questions. I started off our conversation by asking him why we can’t just agree to disagree about the secondary issues. We (evangelical Arminians and evangelical Calvinists) agree that salvation is a free gift and that there is nothing we can do to merit any part of it. Salvation is one hundred percent God’s doing and none of ours. And we agree that God is good and loving. Beyond that we get mired in disagreements about the details. Sure, they’re important details. So important that in our own churches we want agreement about them. But why can’t we just agree to disagree about them in the larger spaces of evangelical cooperation?

            To a very large degree that has been the case in the past and is still somewhat the case in the present. When the National Association of Evangelicals was put together in the early 1940s it included both Arminians and Calvinists on equal footing. To make a long story short, over the decades since then, some Calvinists have become dissatisfied with what they see as the dominance of Arminianism in evangelical folk religion and have moved out of their Reformed circles to publicly lobby for Calvinism as “the” evangelical theology. One example of that, among many, was David Wells’ article “The Stout and Persistent ‘Theology’ of Charles Hodge” in Christianity Today (August 30, 1974). Wells decried the lack of good theology among evangelicals since Hodge and clearly held Hodge and his theology up as the norm for good evangelical theology. Gradually, over the last two to three decades many Reformed evangelicals have spoken and acted to promote the idea that Calvinism is the norm of sound evangelical theology. In many cases they have openly denounced Arminianism as sub-evangelical if not sub-Christian theology, not only in their own Calvinist churches but in the wider trans-denominational evangelical community. In most cases, however, the tendency to promote Calvinism as the norm for evangelical theology has been more subtle. I personally think one evidence of that was Christianity Today’s celebration of John Calvin throughout 2009 with one article about him in eveyr issue. There was no mention of that year being the 400th anniversary of the death of Arminius (except in my letter to the editor signed by a couple other Arminians). I could go on enumerating and describing evidences of that trend, but I’ll mention just one more. My uncle was on the executive board of the NAE for many years. One year he heard a leading Calvinist evangelical author and conference speaker say that anyone who takes one iota away from God’s sovereignty is not an evangelical. That same Calvinist has been very active publicly portraying Calvinism as the only truly evangelical theology.

            So, my first question to Mike was really to all those Calvinists who are actively trying to promote Calvinism as the normative evangelical theology. Why can’t we get back to the original idea of the neo-evangelical movement of the 1940s that the gospel is so important that we evangelicals need to focus on that in our public gatherings and cooperative endeavors and among ourselves outside our confessional circles and not on our secondary distinctives? Why do Calvinists (and some Lutherans) feel the need to marginalize Arminianism outside their own confessional circles? The original idea of the NAE and neo-evangelical movement in general was to counter the drift away from the gospel in “mainline” Protestantism by coming together as believers in the gospel, setting aside our doctrinal differences of interpretation (except, of course, in our own denominations and churches). One reason for it was that two of the major national radio networks were limiting time for “religious programming” to people affiliated with the Federal Council of Churches (which later changed its name to the National Council of Churches). Evangelicals needed to band together to present a united front to the culture.

            That led into a lengthy discussion of those “details” of disagreement about the gospel. Mike asked me if Arminians really believe what I say we believe—that salvation is all God’s doing and we contribute nothing meritorious to it. Of course, his point was that in Arminian theology, from his perspective, the free decision to accept grace is meritorious (This is why his movement to bring about a new Reformation among American evangelicals does not include Arminians). But that just gave me opportunity to assert again that we do not believe it is.

            Now this is a perfect illustration of the whole problem. To what extent should we attribute what we see as the “good and necessary consequences” of a person’s belief to them when they honestly deny that they believe those? We both have this tendency. Arminians look at Calvinists and think “They must really, secretly, in their heart of hearts think that God is a moral monster.” Calvinists adamantly deny it. Calvinists look at Arminians and think “They must really, secretly, in their heart of hearts think that humans earn their salvation.” Arminians adamantly deny it.

            The ensuing conversation followed the usual pattern: areas of wonderful agreement followed by disagreement about the same subjects we were just agreeing about. Humans are totally depraved. We agree. They are capable by the grace of God of making a free choice to resist God’s offer of saving grace or accept it. We disagree. God is a wonderfully good, merciful God who loves people. We agree. God willfully passes over some people he could save, damning them to an eternity of hell. We disagree. And on it goes.

            Apparently it isn’t going to be possible to avoid talking about our areas of disagreement in public. By “talking about” I mean actively seeking to marginalize the other view as defective evangelical theology. (To be honest, however, from where I sit, it is only Calvinists and a few Lutherans who do that! I’ve never known Arminian evangelicals publicly to try to demean or marginalize Calvinism as defective evangelical theology.) Once it becomes clear we can’t just agree to disagree about what I am calling the secondary issues and promote them in our own denominations and churches–I try to get down to our bedrock disagreement AFTER making clear our areas of agreement. Why and how is it that Mike and other Calvinists can think as they do about those secondary issues? I can’t even wrap my mind around those secondary beliefs. I can’t imagine why anyone would believe those things about God. BUT, I do not consider those who believe them sub-Christian or sub-evangelical. I tend to think of them as just confused.

            Mike’s testimony of his change to Calvinism is that he read the Bible with fresh eyes and there it was; he couldn’t deny it. “It” being TULIP (not the scheme but the doctrines).

            My response is that I can understand how certain passages of Scripture can be interpreted that way taken out of the context of the whole of Scripture which simply cannot be interpreted that way. Romans 9 can be interpreted the Calvinist way. But the whole of Scripture cannot be interpreted that way. What I think is going on is that Calvinists interpret the whole of Scripture in light of Romans 9! I know they don’t think that’s what they’re doing but I can’t explain to myself how they come up with their “doctrines of grace” any other way.

                        One thing that bothered me and still does bother me about our conversation (and many I’ve had with Calvinists) is Mike’s insistence that Adam and Eve fell by their own free will. He insisted that  God did not cause them to fall. Why say that unless it’s to get God off the hook, so to speak? In other words, from where I sit the only reason for a Calvinist to speak so adamantly about the freedom of the fall is to make two points: 1) God is not responsible for it, and 2) Humans are (because in some mysterious way we were all either “there” in Adam or represented by him depending on which Calvinists you listen to). If those are not the points, why insist so strongly that Adam and Eve sinned freely?

            However, when pressed on the point, Mike admitted that God planned, foreordained and rendered certain the fall and that when he says Adam and Eve sinned freely he means they did what they wanted to do (compatibilism), not that they could have done otherwise. When pressed on whether they could have done otherwise he referred to the classical Calvinist distinction between natural ability and moral ability. They naturally could have done otherwise, but they couldn’t have done otherwise morally. But the only way that distinction works with Adam and Eve (who were not yet fallen) is to say that God withheld the grace they would have needed to exercise their natural ability so that morally they were unable not to fall. (The distinction between natural ability and moral ability is usually only brought up to explain why already fallen human persons both can and cannot refrain from sinning. We are responsible for our sinning even though we can’t not sin because we have the natural ability not to sin but not the moral ability not to sin. This distinction doesn’t work with unfallen Adam and Eve UNLESS it refers to God withholding or withdrawing their moral ability.) In the end, after all is said and done, a Calvinist does not really believe Adam and Eve fell “freely” except in that highly attenuated sense that most people would never guess at.

            Mike made a big point of how God did not “coerce” Adam and Eve to sin. Right. But exactly what difference is there between “coercing” and “rendering certain?” Okay, there is a difference, but it’s a very technical difference that doesn’t relate to the issue of Adam’s and Eve’s falling by their own free will. It’s possible to manipulate a person to do something “freely” without coercing them to do it if “free” means only doing what you want to do (compatibilism). But that meaning of “free” is not what is meant in any court of law. Nor is it what most people mean by “free.” Most people think “free” means “capable of doing otherwise.” It seems disingenous to me for a Calvinist to claim that Adam and Eve fell freely WITHOUT explaining what they mean by “free.”

            In the end, the claim that Adam and Eve fell “freely,” with the accompanying admission that God foreordained and rendered it certain, does nothing to get God off the hook or explain how Adam and Eve (to say nothing of their posterity) were solely responsible.

            But then, it would be disingenous of me not to mention that Mike turned the tables on me (at least twice!) and claimed that Arminians have the “same problem.” Allegedly, we also believe that God foreordained and rendered the fall certain—by foreknowing it and creating anyway. But, of course, he doesn’t understand the Arminian understanding of foreknowledge. God doesn’t “foreknow” as in “foresee what will happen  IF he creates.” He foreknows BECAUSE what he foreknows will happen. Our decisions and actions cause God to foreknow. 

            There’s another one of those areas where Calvinists and Arminians use the same word but mean something very different by it. When a Calvinist hears “foreknows” he hears “foreordains.” When an Arminian says “foreknow” she means “see what WILL happen.” When an open theist says “foreknow” (future free decisons and actions) he means “see what MIGHT happen.”

            Mike just gave me a funny look when I said that Arminians believe our deciding and acting causes God to foreknow. I don’t think he had heard that before.

            Back to my main point here. It seems to me that for Calvinists to say Adam fell by his own free will is very misleading and unhelpful. The only reasons to say that are to get God off the hook (for being responsible for Adam’s sin) and lay all the responsibility for the fall on Adam. But how does it accomplish those once “free will” is defined compatibilistically (as only doing what you want to do even if you couldn’t do otherwise)? If God actually wanted the fall to happen and planned it and rendered it certain, how is that functionally different from causing it to happen? How does that get God off the hook?

            Well, the next step for the Calvinist is to say that even though God rendered the fall certain he did it with good intent while Adam sinned with evil intent. But how does that get God off the hook? God is still the ultimate cause of Adam’s evil intent. And what was God’s good intent? The answer is: to overcome sin and evil to show his goodness and glorious power. Okay, but what about hell? Even that, Mike said, has a good purpose in God’s plan. What is it? He said “God’s glory.” So there. We finally get down to why Arminians say Calvinism’s God looks like a moral monster. In what setting in any human experience would rendering another person’s unending torture for one’s own glory be considered good? Oh, but they say, God’s goodness is different from ours. Then, the Arminian says, it (the word “good”) become meaningless. How does it differ from “gobbeldygook?” If it has no analogy to any meaning of “good” in our experience, how is it meaningful? Even Calvinist philosopher/theologian Paul Helm makes that point and insists that Calvinists should NOT say that God’s goodness is wholly different from ours.

            As a result of that conversation and many, many others I’ve had with Calvinists, I come away feeling two things. First, it was beneficial for us to hear each other and understand what we say we believe. Second, it was frustrating because once we went below the primary beliefs about which we agree to their deeper meanings we seemed to be like ships passing in the night or like people speaking different languages to each other.

For the past month I’ve been immersed in nineteenth century theology: Schleiermacher, Kierkegaard, Ritschl, Hodge, Catholic Modernism (Blondel, Loisy, Tyrrell), Troeltsch, Dorner, Bushnell. It isn’t the first time, but this time I’m reading more primary texts and writing about these almost forgotten theologians.

One thing I’m finding confirmed is my long-standing opinion that there’s really nothing new in “contemporary theology.” That’s one reason I chose historical theology as my primary field of research and teaching. Every time I hear that there’s a “new thing” afoot in theology or church life or among Christians I easily find how it’s not really new at all!

For example, “relational theology” is all the rage now in certain theological circles. It’s a catch-all phrase for viewing God as affected by what happens in the world. It’s a reaction against strict classical theism that says God is simple substance, pure actuality with no potentiality, absolutely immutable, etc. Process theology is one form of it, but there are more “conservative” forms as well. (Open theism is a form of relationship theology.) I wish they would read Isaak August Dorner! In his three essays on divine immutability he completely overturned classical theism without denying God’s essential sameness through time. He made a strong distinction between God’s “ethical immutability” and God’s changing experience in relation to the world (which he regarded as an expression of his ethical character as love). Dorner clearly also influenced Barth’s doctrine of God as “He who loves in freedom.”

Dorner’s “progressive incarnation” idea struck me immediately as similar to, if not identical with, Norman Pittenger’s neo-Antiochian Christology in The Word Incarnate.

Bushnell’s idea of all language, and especially God-talk, as symbolic and metaphorical anticipates many postmodern ideas about language and theology. (Fortunately he did not take it to the extent that, say, Sallie McFague takes it.)

Troeltsch’s historicism foreshadows “religious pluralism” (e.g., John Hick). He even talked about an “Absolute” that transcends history and religious diversity that is very much like Hick’s “The Real.”

Catholic Modernism paved the way for the “Nouvelle Theologie” that created Vatican 2 and found expression in de Lebac, Rahner and von Balthasar. But even much of the Modernists thought was influenced by Newman, a previous Catholic thinker.

Kierkegaard, of course, sounds like all kinds of dialectical Christian thinkers from Barth to Peter Rollins!

When I was reading Hodge, of course, I almost thought I was reading Grudem or David Wells!

So to what conclusion does all this lead me? There are new ways of expressing old ideas, but most “new ideas” are, at core, recycled old ideas–repackaged, updated, sometimes reconstructed. But it’s very difficult to find anything truly new.

Did the nineteenth century see anything truly new come about in Christian theology?

Well, the whole idea of a “secret rapture” among fundamentalists is totally new in about the 1830s. It first appeared in circles associated with Edward Irving, the pre-Pentecostal Presbyterian preacher in Great Britain.

(That was meant somewhat tongue-in-cheek as most believers in the “secret rapture” think true believers have always believed it!)

Sure, there were some new developments in theology in the nineteenth century, most of them not particularly helpful (because they were somehow related to modernity–as accommodation to or over reaction against it). Schleiermacher’s idea of religion as “the feeling of utter dependence” was relatively new, although it stood on the shoulders of Pietism and Romanticism. Dorner’s idea of progressive incarnation seems new even if it parallels Nestorianism.

But what’ s really new in twentieth century or twenty-first century theology? The God-is-dead movement (that is still alive with certain radical postmodern theologians)? Perhaps. But, of course, that was heavily dependent on Nietzsche, Hegel, Feuerbach and Blake!

Show me something claimed to be “new” in twentieth or twenty-first century theology and I’ll show you its roots in nineteenth century (or earlier) theology.

Now, maybe that’s a good thing. I’m sure many would say it is. I’m not making a value judgment here. I’m just being descriptive.

My point is that perhaps we need to go back and rediscover nineteenth century theology; at the very least it will help us understand and put contemporary theology in perspective.

One commenter has raised a question about my statement that I have no problem with Calvinism in confessionally Reformed circles (churches, denominations, etc.). I made that statement in my previous post about my public conversation with Mike Horton.

So, let me clarify that.

First, by “no problem with” I don’t mean “agree with!” What I mean is, I don’t object to Reformed folks holding to their Calvinism within their own ecclesiastical settings that are confessionally bound. The same is true of many other doctrines with which I disagree in other confessional traditions (or non-confessional but with unwritten or supposedly non-binding statements of faith).

For example, to step out of the Calvinist issue for a moment, just to shed light on what I mean: I have no problem with Pentecostals believing and teaching that speaking in tongues is “the initial, physical evidence” of the Baptism of the Holy Spirit among themselves. My “problem” begins when one tells me or one of my students (etc.) that I am not Spirit baptized because I have never spoken in tongues. (Actually, I have, but don’t and that’s a whole other issue.)

Second, what I mean is that I would never dream of invading someone else’s ecclesiastical space to argue against their doctrines so long as they are being preached and taught only there and not out in the wider community.

Third, when a doctrine is brought out of its confessional context and imposed on others who do not belong to that confessional context, then I might have a problem. Or if members of a confessional context misrepresent others’ doctrines, then I have a problem with it.

I never “had a problem with Calvinism” until one told me my Arminianism would inevitably lead to liberal theology. When I was growing up some of my uncles and aunts and cousins were Christian Reformed. I never felt any urge to argue with them about it. They never tried to impose their Calvinism on me. They never treated me or my family like second class Christians. They kept their Calvinism in their family and church. Then, another Calvinist (not a relative) told me my Arminianism was evidence of latent humanism in me. That made me angry. I never belonged to a confessionally Calvinist/Reformed church or attended a confessionally Calvinist/Reformed college or university.

Then, one day, one of my students came to my office and told me I’m not a Christian because I’m not a Calvinist. Okay, then I had a problem. Neither my church nor his was confessionally Calvinist. Our college was not confessionally Reformed in any sense. He was one of the first “young, restless, Reformed” people. (This was about 25 years ago!) Then I began to hear that more and more often. It wasn’t always stated so bluntly, but the message was clear: unless you are a Calvinist you are at best a defective Christian. This was being said outside of confessionally Reformed churches.

So long as Calvinists keep their Calvinism among themselves, in their confessionally Reformed contexts, I am not going to go on any crusade to argue against it. My crusade against Calvinism (if that’s what it is) is ONLY because Calvinism is being widely promoted in non-Reformed contexts as the one and only truly evangelical theology.

Now, there is one exception to what I said. IF I hear that Arminianism is being misrepresented in a Reformed context, I might make an effort to correct that (as I am able to).

But I would never have written Against Calvinism if Calvinism were just being believed, preached and taught among confessionally Reformed Christians. It’s only because of people who publicly state that only Calvinism is truly evangelical in non-confessional evangelical settings that I felt called to write the book.