Last evening I watched a three hour documentary on the Amish on Public Television. For the most part it was excellent, although it felt a little like voyeurism. The Amish don’t like to be photographed and they obviously were being filmed–often from a great distance. (Some apparently didn’t mind appearing on camera. They’re not all alike in what they allow.)

When I watch something like that I always look for the theological aspects and how well they are represented in the documentary. Too often those aspects are distorted or misrepresented because the film makers didn’t both to interview real experts. This was different in that several experts on the Amish lifestyle and beliefs were interviewed throughout it. One was Donald Kraybill, author of The Upside Down Kingdom–one of my favorite books about the Kingdom of God.

Of course, the film focused exclusively on the old order Amish. There is an Amish church not far from where I live where the members drive cars and trucks. In most other ways they’re like the old order Amish of Lancaster County, PA. (The church near my home is “Beachy Amish”–a particular order that is less strict than some others.)

One thing that struck me was the view of salvation expressed by some Amish people. They talked about hoping to be worthy of salvation by living the Amish lifestyle. That is, of course, not good Anabaptist theology even though most Anabaptists do believe “amendment of life” is a necessary part of salvation. But the latter does not mean earning or being worthy of salvation. Good Anabaptist theology (going back to the 16th century radical reformers) always bases salvation on grace alone. I wonder to what extent contemporary Amish have forgotten some of their own theology because of lack of formal theological training.

Before explaining why I like the Amish (by which I mean I’m glad they exist and hope they flourish) I’d like to say why I understand them better than most people in the mainstream of American society do. I grew up in a church I call “urban Amish.” We were old fashioned Pentecostals. My youth pastor talked about how he was a conscientious objector (non-combatant) in the Korean War. Before WW2 most Pentecostals were pacifists. We drove cars, but eschewed luxury. Money spent on a Cadillac could have been better given to missions.

We didn’t go to movies or dances or even bowling alleys that served beer. (I didn’t darken the door of a movie theater until I was almost 20. Even then I didn’t tell my parents!) The men shaved and the women (sometimes) cut their hair, but flashy clothes bought at expensive department stores were anathema. The women didn’t wear make up or jewelry (except wedding rings). Clothes were expected to be modest.

We had television off and on. For years we didn’t have one. Then I got sick and spent a summer in bed (rheumatic fever which I contracted because my parents didn’t believe in taking medicine so they didn’t fill the prescription for penicillin the doctor gave them for me when I had strep throat). My parents relented and rented a small black and white television so that I would have something to do besides read. (I read the Bible cover to cover that summer–and many other Christian and “almost Christian” books that filled our house’s book cabinets.) My brother and I were not allowed to own or read comic books (“Archie”). Even the Sunday newspaper “color” comics were put away until after church. We were not allowed to participate in dancing during gym classes at school.  I had to bring a note from my father, who was also our church’s pastor, to be excused from that unit. (Many of my male friends asked me if they could get notes from my dad! Many of them wished they didn’t have to dance either.)

We had a radio, but it was always tuned only to the local “gospel station.” I bought a tiny transistor radio when I was 15 and listened to 1960s “rock” music (the Mommas and the Pappas), but I kept it hidden and only listened to it at night, held close to my ear. My parents would have taken it away from me.

The only records we owned were Christian and classical. “Playing cards” were strictly forbidden, but my parents played Rook–a card game invented by a game company especially for Mennonites! Evenings were spent reading or playing games (“Careers” and “Authors”). My brother and I spent many Saturdays walking around the neighborhood “passing out tracts.” My parents didn’t let us wear cut off jeans (to say nothing of real shorts!).

At summer camp the boys and girls couldn’t swim at the same time. Girls had to wear one piece swimming suits; most of the boys wore cut off jeans that weren’t allowed except for swimming. Holding hands was forbidden (to say nothing of kissing!).

When I was a teenager, dating non-Christians was simply unthinkable. In fact, we were clearly socialized to date and marry only fellow Pentecostals. (When my great uncle married a Catholic my great grandmother disowned him and, so far as I know, they never spoke again.)

Well, you get the picture. We were “urban Amish” in many ways. But so were many other Christians of many different denominations back then. Some of my cousins were Christian Reformed and their lifestyle was very similar to ours. Nazarenes and many, not all, Evangelical Free and Covenant Christians lived the same way. Back then (1950s and before), being “evangelical” meant more than doctrine and revivalism; it also meant living lives different from “unsaved” people.

We were probably more extreme than most other evangelicals. But we were just a little behind the rest in terms of accommodating to secular culture.

But the main thing we had in common with the Amish was not legalism; it was the fact that the church was our family. Our whole life revolved around church. And, growing up, I hardly knew or cared to whom we were related “by blood” and to whom we were related by church affiliation. My stepmother had pictures of all our denomination’s missionaries on a bulletin board just off the kitchen and we prayed for one or more of them every evening at supper. When they came home on “furlough,” they stayed at our house. Some of my favorite memories are listening to their stories. To me, to us, they were family. (Some of them were “blood relatives,” but many were not and when I was very young I didn’t know which was which!)

Certainly I chafed at many of the rules that governed our lives–especially as I entered my teen years. But there was something wonderfully warm and comforting about that lifestyle. And I was protected from many of the terrible things that many of my schoolmates fell into-sex and drugs at the top of that list. I did marry a girl in my church youth group and I’m glad; we’ve been married almost 40 years and I’ve never regretted not straying outside the family of faith to date and marry.

To be sure there were extremes involved in that lifestyle. An example is my grandmother disowning her own son just because married a Catholic! And not being able to own or read “Archie” comic books. (We read “Classics Illustrated,” though, which was much better for us anyway.)

But, again, what I admire about the Amish is their sense of Christian community. One point some of them made in the documentary was the family ethos of the church. And I admire their determination not to be changed by the secular culture around them. We didn’t hold to that determination and so many Pentecostals and other evangelicals are barely distinguishable IF AT ALL from their “unsaved” neighbors. I don’t think you have to go to the extremes the Amish go to in order to retain Christian distinctives and boundaries, but I can understand why they think it’s necessary.

One thing the documentary mentioned was the fact that the Amish don’t vote or pledge allegiance to the flag or celebrate Independence Day. I think one of the “wedges” of secular accommodation in our Pentecostal churches, mine included, was that we did those things. The boundary between church and country became blurred. From there more accommodation was inevitable. I remember as a child being extremely afraid of communism. (One of the first “secular books” I read was None Dare Call It Treason. Our home and church contained many anti-communist books and pamphlets. Does anyone remember Billy James Hargis?)

I was so frightened of communism as a child that I assumed anything America did was automatically right. In my little black-and-white world, it was either America or communism. Being Christian and being pro-American and anti-communist became almost synonymous, certainly inseparable. I now look back at that and realize it was one way in which accommodation to secularity began to creep into our otherwise “separated” Christian lifestyle. When the Vietnam War came, we were all in favor of t because we were prepared to believe the “domino theory.” If Vietnam fell to communism, the communists would be on our doorstep next.

I’m not against voting or saluting the flag, but I do think mixing nationalism with Christianity is always a bad thing–much worse than rejecting patriotism. That we did mix them was a major cause of our further accommodation to secular lifestyles.

I admire the Amish even if I could never join them. Sure, there are things about their lifestyle I think are unnecessary (for Christian living) and even dumb (e.g., the men growing beards when they marry). But they are a testimony to the rest of us; their distinctive lifestyle centered around Christian community and holiness of life stands as a judgment on the rest of us who tend to go with every flow of culture.

 

Regarding the Old Testament and Its “Texts of Terror”

Recently I reported and commented on a conversation with a Ph.D. student (not of the institution where I teach) who confronted me about “inclusivism” and the fact that he would not bother to risk his life in missions if he thought God had provided any other way by which people could come to know his grace and mercy unto salvation than hearing and believing the gospel of Jesus Christ (restrictivism). My point in reporting and commenting on that conversation was not to pick on that individual; it was to respond to a recurring theme in numerous conversation I’ve had with conservative Christians who claim that any belief other than restrictivism undermines evangelism and missions.

This same religion/theology Ph.D. student continued his confrontation by arguing that since God commanded Israel to slaughter all idolaters God would not save people in non-Christian cultures without them turning from their idolatry which (his point was) cannot happen without a Christian missionary bringing them the gospel.

Of course, that point is fraught with difficulties. First, where did God command his people to slaughter all idolaters? Second, it assumes that everything attributed to God in every Old Testament passage was actually God’s will. In other words, it assumes a certain literalistic view of inspiration and interpretation of the Bible (one I was taught in seminary to call “wooden”). Third, if taken to its logical conclusion, it implies that God wants his people not only to evangelize but to slaughter idolaters. There are so many problems with that argument that I find it sad that a Ph.D. student would make it.

Again, my purpose here is not to single out an individual who used a bad argument but to raise questions about the proper interpretation of Old Testament “texts of terror.” They are often mentioned by Calvinists to contradict my contention that the God of high Calvinism, insofar as that theology is consistent, is a moral monster. The question raised against me goes something like this: “In the Old Testament God commanded his people to slaughter all the men, women and children in Canaanite cities. Does that make God a moral monster?”

First, I think there is a huge difference between that and God predestining people to everlasting torment in hell. However, I admit that the texts of terror of the Old Testament are troublesome. (But no more than some “Old Testament Christians” I know should find Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount troublesome!)

Second, we have no way of knowing all the circumstances of those alleged divine commands and actions of the Israelites. All we have are reports that God told them to do these things and that they did them. The texts don’t explain the all the circumstances or reasons.

Third, nobody interprets all the texts of terror literally in the sense that they believe they are all equally God’s will. Among the most terrifying of them are the impreccatory Psalms. There the Psalmist, presumably writing under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, cries out to God and says he wishes his enemies’ childrens’ heads would be bashed against rocks. Surely that should reveal something about the Old Testament writers’ tendency to use “children” as a metaphor for punishment of groups of adults.

Of course, fundamentalists will cry “liberal!” against anyone who dares to question whether God literally commanded Israel to slaughter babies or slaughtered them himself (as in the killing of Egypt’s firstborn sons during the Exodus).

I adamantly reject that libelous accusation. Nobody takes everything in the Old Testament literally. Many stories in the early parts of the Old Testament especially are simply head-scratchers. The whole point of “progressive revelation” is to say that the New Testament sheds light on the Old Testament and helps us relativize some of the things attributed to God there.

Jesus said of children that “of such is the kingdom of heaven.” Should we relativize Jesus in light of the Old Testament or vice versa? What is the best clue to God’s character and will, Jesus or the author(s) of Joshua and Judges?

Whenever I ask such questions, someone accuses me of being “Marcionite.” That’s a pretty big stretch. Marcion wanted to exclude the whole Old Testament and portions of the New Testament from the Christian canon because of their “Jewishness.” That’s not my view at all. Is anyone ever called a Marcionite because she interprets the Song of Solomon symbolically?

“Liberal” identifies a certain kind of hermeneutic that is specifically accommodationist with regard to modernity. (Yale historical theologian rightly defined “liberal” in theology as “maximal acknowledgment of the claims of modernity.”) Many of the early church fathers interpreted much of the Old Testament allegorically. Were they then “liberal?” Hardly.

I’m a baptist. (I explained my reason for using the small letter “b” in an earlier post so I won’t go over that again here.) I tend to think there are two kinds of Baptists—New Testament ones and Old Testament ones. What were the earliest baptists—before the Particular Baptists (Calvinist baptists heavily influenced by the Puritans)?

Let’s look at two early baptist Confessions: the Dordrecht Confession (1632) and the A Short Confession (Thomas Helwys) (1610).

Like many other Anabaptist statements of faith (and the early English baptists, followers of John Smyth and Thomas Helwys were called “Anabaptists”) the Dordrecht Confession contains an article (Article V) on Scripture. This one is entitled “Of the Law of Christ, Which is the Holy Gospel, or the New Testament.” (See W. L. Lumpkin, Baptist Confessions of Faith [Judson Press, 1959], p. 70.) It says of the New Testament that in it the “whole counsel and will of His [Jesus’] heavenly Father, so far as these are necessary to the salvation of man, are comprehended.  The Waterland Confession (1580) says of the doctrine to be preached and with which the people of God should agree that “It…is contained in the books of the New Testament to which we join all that which is found in the canonical books of the Old Testament and WHICH IS CONSONANT WITH THE DOCTRINE OF CHRIST AND HIS APOSTLES AND IN ACCORD WITH THE ADMINISTRATION OF HIS SPIRITUAL KINGDOM.” (Lumpkin, p. 59) In other words, not everything in the Old Testament is part of the doctrine to be preached and believed.

The very first “Baptist” confession of faith was John Smyth’s Short Confession of Faith in XX Articles (1610). It doesn’t mention Scripture at all. (It is, by the way, thoroughly Arminian. See Lumpkin, pp. 100-101.) The second “Baptist” (capital B) confession of faith was Thomas Helwys’ A Short Confession of Faith also dated 1610. Its article (27) on Scripture sounds very much like the Dordrecht Confession. It says that the doctrine to be “proposed to the people” by ministers, which “Christ brought out of heaven” is “written…in the Scripture of the New Testament, whereto we apply whatsoever we find in the canonical book of the Old Testament, which hath affinity and verity, which by doctrine of Christ and his apostles, and consent and agreement, with the government of his Spiritual Kingdom.” (Lumpkin, p. 109).

Without doubt the earliest baptists (including Baptists) were “New Testament Christians.” They did not think everything in the Old Testament was truth for Christians to believe and obey. That is, they read the Bible backwards, as it were. They relativized the Old Testament in light of the New.

John Smyth was, of course, the founder of one of the first Baptist congregations. The other one was founded by Thomas Helwys. Both fancied themselves Mennonites at times but found little acceptance by the Dutch Mennonites. The reasons were not so much theological as cultural. Smyth’s Short Confession of Faith in XX Articles does not touch on Scripture, but he did discuss the Old Testament in several of his writings including Parallels, Censures, Observations. I won’t get into it here, but Jason K. Lee, who taught church history at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary, discusses Smyth’s view of the relationship between the New Testament and the Old in The Theology of John Smyth (Mercer, 2003).

Lee has an entire chapter on “Smyth’s Use of Typology” that makes clear by many quotations from Smyth’s own writings, that the considered the Old Testament inspired Scripture but relativized it in light of the New Testament and regarded it primarily as foreshadowing the New. “He sees the Old Testament as containing types or signs which point to a higher truth or principle. So, the types are not to be maintained, but the principles behind them are.” (p. 101) However, according to Smyth, the principles are all in the New Testament and stated more clearly there than in the Old Testament. One thing is clear: Smyth did not consider the Old Testament necessary for Christianity. However he did not think it should be done away with, either. (p. 100)

Later, among Puritan-influenced Particular Baptists, the Old Testament is elevated to a higher status and strenuous attempts are made to make the two testaments equal for Christians. However, in my opinion, no Christian has ever been able to accomplish that. Christians always interpret the Old Testament in light of the New and relativize the Old.

However, I keep running into what I call “Old Testament Christians” who seem to think it is necessary to take everything in the Old Testament literally and as applicable to Christians today. They’re never consistent, however, as they rarely believe the ceremonial laws and practices of the Old Testament are for today. I said they’re “never consistent” because, when pushed, they always admit that SOME parts of the Old Testament are not relevant to Christian belief and practice. It seems the main parts they want to hold onto and insist are still relevant for Christians (and America as “Christian nation”) have to do with killing (holy war, capital punishment, etc.). But I have never found one who believes EVERYTHING mentioned as a cause for capital punishment should be today.

I don’t have definite answers about the Old Testament texts of terror. All I can do is place question marks over them and leave them there. I will not say, as some do, that they are false records of what God commanded invented to justify Israel’s holy wars. I just don’t know how to explain them. But I certainly don’t think they have any relevance for Christians. Jesus not only set aside Israel’s ceremonial laws and practices for his followers; he also revealed a side to God’s character and will only hinted at in the Old Testament (mostly in certain Psalms and in portions of the prophets).

I will boldly say that baptists, in keeping with our origins, ought to read the Bible backwards. That is, we must interpret the Old Testament in light of the New and relativize the former in light of the latter.

 

Of course, I don’t have an infallible litmus test; only God does. Only God knows a person’s heart. So I gladly reserve to God the final say about whether someone has genuinely experienced his love and received the Holy Spirit in regeneration.

However, occasionally I have to pull out this admittedly fallible litmus test and use it to evaluate the authenticity of someone’s Christian faith.

But it only works in certain situations. I’m amazed, however, how often that situation arises. I’ve used this for over thirty years now whenever someone confronts me about the issue of hell.

The typical scenario falls out something like this (and it actually happened again recently):

A person who claims to be a mature, knowledgeable Christian attacks ANY idea that God might forgive ANYONE without their explicit knowledge of Jesus Christ (by name) and confession of him as Lord (by name).  And the person suggests that anyone who thinks otherwise might not be a Christian or at least is not an evangelical Christian.

Because people know or suspect I’m an inclusivist (who reserves the right to interpret that my own way which is not necessarily the same as some other people’s way) they come up to me after I talk or they contact me via e-mail or whatever to assert restrictivism as the only biblical view.

Usually, somewhere in the conversation the person (as happened recently) claims that IF there is any hope of salvation for the unevangelized, that would undermine missions and evangelism. Then I pull out my litmus test question:

“If God revealed to you in a way you could not deny that, indeed, many will be forgiven who never hear the gospel from a human missionary or evangelist, what would be your response with regard to missions and evangelism?”

It’s amazing how many people who claim to be born again immediately (as recently) say something like “I wouldn’t bother with it anymore.”

My response is always to press further before making a decision (which I usually keep to myself) about the authenticity of the person’s Christianity. For example: “Really? So you don’t think there’s any reason to tell people about Jesus Christ other than to save them from going to hell?”

At that point most will pull back a little and says something like, “Well, maybe, but not enough to risk my life.” (This is what my most reason interlocutor said by way of response.)

My sad conclusion then is that such a person knows Jesus only in their head and not really in their heart. They may be forgiven, but I cannot believe they have experienced God inwardly. (Do I sound like a Pietist? Thank you. I am one.

If at this point you’re hesitating and thinking “Boy, Roger sounds very judgmental here,” let me be clear: I don’t think I’d question someone’s salvation based on that alone, but stop and ask yourself what it means to be “saved.” Is “salvation” just enjoying God’s forgiveness and that’s all? Is salvation just being forgiven so that you have “fire insurance?” Or is there more to salvation than that?

This, I think, is directly relevant to my most recent post here about “Renewalism.” To me, Renewalism is the belief that salvation involves more than just fire insurance; it involves receiving the new life, abundant life, accompanied by joy, peace and love that God imparts when someone is truly converted to Jesus Christ.

IF a person really believes that there would be no reason to risk his or her life to share the good news of Jesus Christ with people who MIGHT be forgiven without hearing the message of the gospel from a human missionary or evangelist, then I question whether that person has experienced salvation in its fullness.

In other words, I am arguing that full salvation, and therefore true Christianity, involves MORE than merely being forgiven; it involves being transformed (not perfected). This is so “everywhere” in the New Testament (and in the Psalms!) that it doesn’t even need proof texting.

Every first year Christian college student knows that “eternal life” is not just an eschatological category; it is a gift received now in regeneration, in the experience of being “born again.” It is not just “living forever;” it is receiving the life of God inwardly through a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.

Presumably, a person can be “just forgiven” so that if they die they “go to heaven.” But that is not “true Christianity” or the full gospel. A person might repent and believe and ask God for forgiveness and never, for whatever reason, experience the fullness of what God has to give them in love, joy and peace–a transformed personal existence.

What’s my biblical basis for  this? For one, the entire book of The Acts of the Apostles! It contains many examples of people who had a right relationship with God (e.g., Cornelius) who had not yet received the fullness of God’s transforming love and power in their lives. The apostles were concerned that such people receive the fullness of salvation and not settle for forgiveness.

It is one thing to be forgiven (as Wesley surely was before his Aldersgate Street experience) and something else entirely to “know the joy of sins forgiven.”

So back to my “litmus test.” It isn’t so much a test to decide whether a person is forgiven and “on their way to heaven.” It is much more a test to decide whether the person even understands the fullness of salvation. A person who says there is no particular reason to take the name of Jesus and the whole gospel to people who MIGHT already be forgiven proves he or she does not understand experiential salvation.

God does not want to merely forgiven people; he wants to change them by imparting abundant, eternal life which always manifests in a “holy personality” (Donald G. Bloesch). Whether one can experience perfection in this before bodily death is debatable. But I don’t consider it debatable whether it is what real Christianity is about.

So what if God revealed to you in a way you could not deny that EVERYONE is forgiven? On the cross Jesus suffered the penalty for all sin so that God’s “Yes” is to everyone even if they don’t know it? (Barth) Would that change your view about missions and evangelism? If it would make you less passionate about them, then I am suggesting you have not experienced the fullness of what God has provided for you. You may be forgiven, you may have your “fire insurance policy,” but you probably haven’t experienced abundant life.

I fear that American evangelicals have focused too exclusively on salvation as forgiveness (resulting in a life of striving to learn and serve) and too little on holistic salvation as experiencing God inwardly in a transforming way that results in the fruit of the Spirit if not the gifts of the Spirit.

I spent Tuesday of this week (February 21) at Regent University in Virginia and learned a new word–”Renewalism” (and phrases like “Renewal Studies” and “Renewalist”). Of course, the term “Renewal” isn’t new to me. In fact, I read a paper there on Pietism and Pentecostalism the thesis of which was that the two are cousins. I put them together under the category of Renewal movements.

“Renewalism,” however seems to be emerging as a technical category both sociological and theological. Its sociological meaning is clearer to me than its theological meaning. I was informed that it is an umbrella term for Pentecostals, Charismatics, Third Wave Christians and Global South churches that are like those.

I take it the point is something like this. Pentecostals are finding common ground with non-Pentecostals and need a new category that includes all who share this common ground. What is the common ground? It seems to me it has to do with experiential Christianity and especially belief in a subsequent-to-conversion experience of the Holy Spirit with accompanying gifts of the Spirit such as healing, speaking in tongues, etc. BUT–not all Renewalists believe that speaking in tongues (or any one gift) is the sine qua non of being Spirit filled. Many, perhaps most, Pentecostals do. But most other Renewalists do not. This has kept them somewhat apart over the years, but now SOME classical Pentecostals are reaching out to neo-Pentecostals and others who share belief in the supernatural gifts of the Holy Spirit and seeking to forge together with them a broader movement that includes them all.

Sociologically, my question is whether this Renewalist movement might include at least SOME classical Pietists? I brought up the Blumhardts (father and son, Johann and Christoph) as examples of pre-Pentecostal Pietists who believed in healing, exorcism, prophecy, etc.

I wonder whether something like Renovare (Richard Foster, Dallas Willard, et al.) might fit into this Renewalist category? The question is how broad and inclusive will this be?

The sociological “center” seems to be passionate belief in and commitment to spiritual renewal of individuals and churches through experience of God including the contemporary supernatural gifts of the Holy Spirit.

What about the movement’s theology? Must a person or church be trinitarian to be included? Can Roman Catholics be part of it? What about non-Pentecostal Wesleyans? (They usually believe in healing if not speaking in tongues.) What about Keswickians?

I think what I am hearing about Renewalism sounds familiar to me from my two years at ORU. It wasn’t called that there or then, but the place was awash with people from all kinds of denominations (everything from Mennonites to Roman Catholics) who shared a common belief in the gifts of the Holy Spirit (i.e., rejection of cessationism). They did not agree on many other issues. Some were sacramentalist and some didn’t observe sacraments at all.  Some were Calvinist-leaning and some were radically Arminian. Some were Pentecostal and some had no affiliation with that. Some were low church and some were high church. What held us all together was that common belief in the contemporary transforming work of the Holy Spirit through subsequent to conversion infillings of the Holy Spirit and receiving and exercising supernatural gifts of the Holy Spirit. Some were more expressive than others about that. But everyone believed in it or they wouldn’t have been there.

So, in order to understand Renewalism (in the sense I heard of it at Regent U.) I have to go back to my ORU days and remember that Holy Spirit ecumenism. It was probably the best thing about ORU then.

Personally, I would like to advocate including among Renewalists genuine Pietists whether they manifest supernatural gifts of the Spirit or not (so long as they are not cessationists). I think it would be very interesting to have a conference at a place like Regent that brings together (for example) Renovare people and Pentecostals and neo-Pentecostals for conversation about church and personal renewal.  I think they would find much in common.

I still have enough of Pentecostalism in me to believe this, Renewalism, is an extremely important movement beneficial to Christianity today (even though I do not speak in tongues and do not believe it is for everyone). Conservative evangelicals have been pushing correct doctrine as the path toward church renewal for quite a while now (even in the mainline churches). I don’t think that alone will do what needs to be done. If we want to see revival as it is happening in the Global South in North America and Europe, we will have to be more open to the present operation of the Holy Spirit in very emotional ways. (I don’t mean “emotionalism” as in emotion for its own sake.) We have to shed our sense of sophistication and respectability and allow ourselves to experience God in ways that may be embarrassing for those of us with M.Divs and Ph.D.s and M.D.s and etc.

 

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.