Christian Smith, The Bible Made Impossible, Chapter 6: “Accepting Complexity and Ambiguity”

There is no chapter in Smith’s book with which I agree more than this one.  While I don’t think his prescriptions here will go very far toward reducing pervasive interpretive pluralism (PIP), they are of paramount importance for evangelical honesty (toward the Bible) and generosity (toward each other and other Christians).

I cannot recommend this chapter highly enough; I wish every evangelical (and that’s a pretty broad concept for me!) could read this chapter if nothing else.  Of course, as with other chapters, there’s nothing that new here.  The novelty of Smith’s book and this chapter lies not in any innovation of concepts but in the way old concepts are packaged and presented.

A lot of the material in this chapter I learned in seminary.  I was fortunate enough to attend a very sane, moderate, even sometimes progressive evangelical Baptist seminary (North American Baptist Seminary in Sioux Falls, South Dakota—now called Sioux Falls Seminary).  My professors were full of good, strong, common sense about the Bible and theology as well as steeped in the best historical and contemporary scholarship.  Sometimes I’m tempted to say that everything I ever really needed to know I learned in seminary.  It liberated me from fundamentalism, obscurantism and anti-intellectualism and introduced me to this (Smith’s) kind of broad, generous, common-sensical evangelical Christianity.

I’ll have to admit up front that I MIGHT be biased in favor of this chapter because I’m favorably named in it; Smith makes use of my distinction between “dogmas,” “doctrines,” and “opinions”—something I first published in the little book Who Needs Theology (IVP).  However, I don’t really think that’s the case.  Even were I not mentioned in the chapter I would find almost total agreement with it.

The first part of the Chapter 6 is “Embracing the Bible for what it obviously is.”  Smith says “One of the strangest things about the biblicist mentality is its evident refusal to take the Bible at face value.” (127)  He accuses evangelical biblicists of creating a “theory about the Bible [that] drives them to make it something that it evidently is not.” (127)  Smith urges evangelicals to be satisfied and come to terms with the actual phenomena of Scripture rather than imposing on it a theory of inspiration, authority and inerrancy foreign to it as an ancient text containing many different literary genres.  In the second section of the chapter, entitled “Living with scriptural ambiguities,” Smith unfolds what he means.  There he says “There is no reason whatsoever not to openly acknowledge the sometimes confusing, ambiguous, and seemingly incomplete nature of scripture.” (131)  Then he explains “All of scripture is not clear, nor does it need to be.  But the real matter of scripture is clear, ‘the deepest secret of all,’ that God in Christ has come to earth, lived, taught, healed, died, and risen to new life, so that we too can rise to life in him.” (132)

In contrast, Smith argues, too many evangelicals (not all) have imposed on Scripture an expectation and then a demand that it be perfect in every way by modern standards suitable to (for example) university textbooks.  The Bible simply isn’t that.  It is not a set of inerrant propositions waiting to be harmonized and systematized into something like a philosophy.  Rather, it contains ambiguities, uncertainties, apparent contradictions, mysteries, etc.  At the end of this section of the chapter Smith quotes the great Dutch Reformed theologian G. C. Berkouwer (who I use in Against Calvinism against the radical Reformed theology of the “new Calvinism” in America) approvingly: “the confession of perspicuity is not a statement in general concerning the human language of Scripture, but a confession concerning the perspicuity of the gospel in Scripture.” (133)  To that I say amen!

In the next section of the chapter (“Dropping the compulsion to harmonize”) Smith gives a case study in how biblicism’s theory of Scripture simply does not fit the phenomena of Scripture.  His case study is drawn from Harold Lindsell’s infamous (that’s my value judgment but not mine alone!) 1976 book The Battle for the Bible.  There Lindsell, a militant inerrantist who wanted moderate to progressive evangelicals fired from their teaching positions at evangelical colleges, universities and seminaries, argued that if we believe the Bible to be inspired, authoritative and inerrant (three adjectives he linked inseparably together) we must believe that Peter denied Christ six times before the cock crowed on two separate occasions.  This was Lindsell’s attempt to harmonize the four gospels’ accounts of Peter’s denial.  This is just a case study in making the Bible impossible.

Smith concludes that “the Bible, understood as what it actually is, still speaks to us with a divine authority, which we need not question but which rather powerfully calls us and our lives into question.”  (134)  Well said!  It’s important to note that Smith does NOT say that all harmonizing attempts are bad.  “In some cases, to be sure, harmonizations of biblical accounts may actually be right.” (134)  It’s just that harmonizing is usually not necessary. (134)

I agree with Smith’s overall point in this section, but I would push a little further than he does with respect to the value of cautious harmonization of biblical teachings and stories.  They can’t all be harmonized and we shouldn’t even try—especially when we’re talking about non-essentials of the faith.  But I have a friend who teaches New Testament at a Christian college who occasionally picks on me for going overboard with harmonization.  He even goes so far as to argue that the Bible teaches BOTH absolute, unconditional predestination AND free will (as power of contrary choice) and the necessity of free cooperation with grace.  That is, he believes the Bible teaches BOTH monergism and synergism.  And he disdains every effort by theologians to systematize these into a coherent soteriology.  For him, just to give one example, Philippians 2:12-13 is a contradiction and we simply have to embrace it and not try to harmonize these two verses.  I disagree because I see no problem; it takes no “forced harmonization” to harmonize them into a coherent soteriology of prevenient grace and free human cooperation with grace.  I just don’t see the problem there whereas he thinks I am forcing harmony where none exists.

Also, New Testament scholar friend thinks I’m simply crazy to think there is real consistency and harmony between the various accounts of the giving of the Holy Spirit in the gospels and Acts.  One gospel has Jesus breathing on his disciples BEFORE his ascension and giving them the Holy Spirit.  Acts has the Holy Spirit descending on them on the Day of Pentecost.  My friend insists these are disparate accounts of the same event.  I disagree.  To me that’s not much different from Pannenberg’s (with whom I studied and I heard him say this) claim that the story of Jesus’ transfiguration is a “misplaced resurrection story.”  I haven’t discussed this one with my friend, so I don’t know what he would say.  We kind of agreed to disagree and leave the matter alone (at least for a while).

I think it’s fairly obvious (though I wouldn’t call someone a heretic who disagrees) that Jesus gave his disciples the Holy Spirit to indwell them and be with them before Pentecost but on the Day of Pentecost the Holy Spirit filled them (“enduement with power” as Pentecostals call it).  This fits with some of the stories of Spirit infilling (e.g., of people already believers) in later parts of Acts.  I don’t see any forced harmonization there.  But I do think Lindsell’s explanation of Peter’s denial of Jesus represents forced and completely unnecessary harmonization.  I’m not sure what Smith would think of my rather modest and moderate approach to harmonizing Scripture.  He very well might not like it.  But I think we should harmonize when we can (e.g., the Arminian take on Philippians 2:12-13) and leave diversity within Scripture alone when we can’t harmonize without distortion.

The next section of the chapter is entitled (subheaded) “Distinguishing dogma, doctrine, and opinion.”  Of course, I agree whole heartedly with Smith in this section! J  Especially when he criticizes those biblicists who set up scripture readers “to assume that once they have decided what the Bible appears to teach, they will then have come into possession of absolutely definite, divinely authorized, universally valid, indubitable truth.  And that truth will be equally valid and certain for every subject about which scripture appears to speak, whether it be the divinity of Jesus or how to engage in ‘biblical dating’.” (137)  Smith rightly calls on evangelicals (and all Christians) to exercise a greater degree of humility about their secondary beliefs, their denominational distinctive (or distinctive of a certain tradition) and put beliefs in their right categories according to the clarity of Scripture about them and the certainty possible with regard to them.  He cautions that “The point is not that every particular Christian group and tradition needs to strip itself of all its distinctive.” (138)  The point is a changed attitude toward levels of importance of biblical teachings and those who disagree about secondary matters not necessary for salvation or even for authentic Christian living.

In my opinion, this recommendation could go a long way toward overcoming many of the controversies among evangelicals.  We (the evangelical community in the U.S.) are being torn apart over secondary doctrines and teachings such as predestination, the inerrancy of the Bible, the possible salvation of the unevangelized, etc., etc.  Of course, fundamentalists and neo-fundamentalists are not likely to give up insisting that their views are the only possible ones in light of a valid interpretation of Scripture, but my point (in addition to Smith’s) is that evangelical LEADERS need to speak out openly against this internecine war going on among evangelicals which is almost exclusively being fomented by conservatives.

I well remember when Jay Kessler, then head of Youth for Christ and president of Taylor University came to the college where I taught and decried this growing tendency among evangelicals to shoot at each other (figurately speaking, of course) over relatively minor points of doctrine and practice.  Too bad he didn’t write an article and have it published in Christianity Today or something!  He was a powerful voice for moderation among evangelicals for many years, but either people weren’t listening or he just didn’t raise his voice loudly enough.  But I know he was passionately opposed to this tendency to major in the minors as he saw what I call neo-fundamentalists taking over the evangelical community by creating fear of heresy among the untutored laity and pastors.

The last two sections of this chapter are headed “Not everything must be replicated” and “Living on a need-to-know basis.”  Smith’s theses are that not everything practiced or even promoted by biblical writers, even apostles, must be practiced today.  In other words, there is cultural conditioning in the Bible.  And that “In his wisdom, God has chosen to reveal some of his will, plan and work, but clearly not all of it.  To the extent that the Bible tells us about matters of Christian faith and life, it clearly does not tell us everything.  It certainly does not tell us everything we often want to know.” (141)  “Christians would do well to simply accept and live contentedly with the fact that they are being informed about the big picture on a ‘need to know’ basis.  … if God has not made something completely clear in scripture, then it is probably best not to try to speculate it into something too significant.  Let the ambiguous remain ambiguous.” (142)  Again, amen to that!  There’s a place for reverent speculation in theology, but it MUST be labeled that—speculation—and not touted as dogma or even doctrine.  And I can be firmly convinced that I am right about some matter I think Scripture “clearly teaches” that is not central to salvation and Christian faith WITHOUT implying that those who disagree are subchristian or even subevangelical.

So let’s be specific about this chapter.  What’s a case study in what Smith is opposed to here that violates his recommendations for being realistic about biblical ambiguities and secondary matters of doctrine.  Well, I already mentioned The Battle for the Bible.  But I would add (this is my own opinion, of course) D. A. Carson’s book The Gagging of God (1996).  I saw in it a full frontal assault on fellow evangelicals who, in my opinion, Carson did not really even understand.  A case in point is his treatment of Stan Grenz.  I won’t go into details here as I have already done that in Reformed and Always Reforming which I wrote largely in response to Carson’s book.

In my opinion, this chapter of Smith’s book is crucial to a better, healthier, more reasonable approach to Scripture and doctrine than the one all too common among especially conservative evangelicals.  It won’t fix the problem of PIP, but it could help evangelicals (and others) achieve a more balanced and sane approach to Scripture and doctrine.

Obviously my posts are not perfectly perspicuous–sometimes even to me (when I go back and read them)!

This is not the second installment of my multi-part review of Smith’s book.  Here I just want to clarify some matters raised by some of you.

One of my points is that EVEN IF the Bible were all that biblicism claims (as Smith defines biblicism) (setting aside his tenth assumption or belief of biblicism–that the Bible is a complete handbook of answers to all of life’s questions–which I think is blatantly wrong and not really held by any serious scholar) there would be PIP.

Now, I happen to think the Bible is NOT all that biblicists claim (as Smith defines biblicism).  For example, Smith includes inerrancy in biblicism.  I only confess Scripture’s inerrancy if I’m allowed to define inerrancy! 🙂  It’s one of those terms that has very little meaning because of such a wide range of meanings given to it by even conservative evangelicals.

Putting that caveat aside for now, my point in my first installment of my review was that EVEN IF biblicism is a correct view of the Bible, PIP would be unavoidable due to human beings’ lack of perfect perspicacity, objectivity, etc.

Secondly, I tried to make the point that I believe the Bible IS perspicuous with regard to beliefs essential or important to salvation and dealing with how to live a life pleasing to God (at least in terms of generalities) even if it IS NOT perspicuous about secondary matters.

I think my analogy of the Constitution works.  Some of you objected because the Constitution can be amended.  That’s beside the point.  EVEN AS AMENDED the Constitution gives rise to PIP.  That we have a Supreme Court to hand down authoritative interpretations based on precedents doesn’t solve anything.  There’s still PIP about it.  Many people disagree with the Supreme Court decisions about what the Constitution means.  And what good would it do to say the Catholic Church’s magisterium is like the Supreme Court–the authoritative body for interpreting the Bible?  The only thing that MIGHT accomplish (but doesn’t in today’s RCC) is to enforce conformity to its decisions.  It can only enforce conformity within itself.  Even there, I would argue, PIP exists.  But even if you disagree (which to me just means you’re not aware of all that’s going on in the RCC worldwide) there’s the fact that not all Christians are RCC–unless you think they are.  The only way to avoid PIP, it seems to me, is to have a dictatorial leader of one tightly organized church body THAT IS THE ONLY GROUP OF CHRISTIANS with the power to enforce his interpretations on everyone.  Some cults think they have that and, admittedly, PIP is minimal or non-existent within them.  Who wants that?

Christian Smith, The Bible Made Impossible, Chapters 1 & 2

It is necessary to understand three concepts in order to understand Smith’s argument in this book: 1) biblicism, 2) pervasive interpretive pluralism, and 3) impossible.  There may be others, but these are necessary and sufficient for now.

The gist of Smith’s argument in this book is that biblicism, as he defines it, literally makes it impossible for the Bible to function as the church’s sole, ultimate authority for faith and practice because it leads inevitably and always to pervasive interpretive pluralism (henceforth PIP)—the situation in which there are multiple, competing interpretations of the Bible on crucial matters of Christian faith and life and there is no way to adjudicate them simply by appeal to the Bible.

Of course, anyone who knows even a modicum of church history and historical theology will recognize right away that this has been the argument of some Christians about the Protestant principle of sola scriptura (or even prima scriptura) for a long time.  Most notably, but not uniquely, Catholics have made this argument ever since the Reformation.

After writing this book, Smith joined the Roman Catholic Church, but in the book itself he does not advocate that as the one and only solution to PIP.  Rather, he offers some pointers to possible ways of softening the problem.  I’ll get to those later.

First, what does Smith mean by “biblicism?”  That’s a word with multiple meanings and uses, of course, so it’s important to know what Smith means by it.  And it’s important to know that he thinks his definition of it is common to most conservative evangelicals (and possibly others).  By “biblicism” Smith means “a constellation of related assumptions and beliefs about the Bible’s nature, purpose, and function…represented by ten assumptions or beliefs.” (4)

These ten assumptions or beliefs that, according to Smith, make up biblicism are: divine writing, total representation, complete coverage, democratic perspicuity, commonsense hermeneutics, solo scriptura, internal harmony, universal applicability, inductive method and handbook model. (4-5)  The ways in which he defines these beliefs leads me to believe he is talking primarily about fundamentalism, but he labels the religious party that he thinks adheres to this constellation of beliefs about the Bible “conservative American Protestantism, especially evangelicalism.” (5)

One question that immediately arises, of course, is whether Smith has here created a straw man, labeled it “biblicism” and made it easy to destroy it.  Another way of asking that question is whether Smith’s “biblicism” is really held by the majority of educated conservative evangelicals.  Throughout the book Smith attributes this biblicism to a number of conservative evangelical preachers, teachers, authors and to the grassroots of conservative evangelicalism.  In Chapter 1 he gives as a prime example popular evangelical pastor and author John F. MacArthur, Jr. (7).  But he also regards many mainline evangelical denominations’ and organizations’ statements of faith as reflecting this biblicism.

I think Smith means that this view of the Bible is IMPLIED, if not explicitly stated, by the thinks the vast majority of evangelicals say about the Bible and how they tend to use it even if they sometimes qualify it out of necessity.

So, can we sum up “biblicism” as Smith means it in a few words?  I’ll take a stab at it.  It is the view that the Bible is verbally inspired such that the words written by the human authors are God’s own chosen words, it is inerrant in everything it teaches—including matters of history, cosmology, etc., it is absolutely harmonious in its teachings, it is perspicuous such that any relatively reasonable person can understand it, and it covers everything any person needs to know to live a fulfilled life pleasing to God.  This last point is what Smith means by “Handbook Model.” (5)

For those of you who have read the first chapter, I wonder if Smith mixes together or confuses scholarly evangelical biblicism with folk religious biblicism?  Would conservative evangelical biblical scholars and theologians who agree with most of what he calls biblicism agree that the Bible is “a compendium of divine and therefore inerrant teachings on a full array of subjects—including science, economics, health, politics, and romance?” (5)  Might it be possible to be a biblicist even by his standards without embracing that “Handbook Model?”  I think perhaps so and, later in the book, Smith himself seems to work with this distinction.  One can certainly believe the first nine points of the constellation without embracing the tenth.  I think most educated biblicists would argue that the Bible provides divine guidance about these matters without providing “teachings” about them.

When Smith provides popular, institutional and scholarly examples of biblicism things get a bit murky.  I’m not sure all the people and institutions he mentions really adhere to all ten points of his biblicism in the way he suggests.  In this chapter, anyway, he rarely mentions individual evangelical scholars; instead he mentions and quotes from an array of conservative evangelical statements of faith as they touch on the Bible.  I’m not sure all ten points of Smith’s biblicism can be found in all those statements of faith, but he would surely argue they are implied there.  (Admittedly, however, SOME of the evangelical statements of faith about the Bible he quotes are shockingly naïve about the Bible.  I suspect even most conservative evangelical scholars would have trouble working under them.)

So what does Smith mean by PIP?  Simply put, he means that equally sincere, educated, spiritual biblical interpreters cannot come to agreement about crucial biblical teachings.  Smith assumes that IF the Bible is what  biblicists say it is, they should be able to.  This seems right ASSUMING that “perspicuity” means what he says it means (as applied to Scripture).  Here is what Smith says it means: “Any reasonably intelligent person can read the Bible in his or her own language and correctly understand the plain meaning of the text.” (4)  I agree that most evangelicals believe this about CRUCIAL matters pertaining to salvation, but I’m not sure ANY educated evangelical or even fundamentalist thinks this about EVERY matter about which the Bible speaks.  Else why do we have colleges, universities and seminaries with programs devoted to educating already reasonable people in interpreting the Bible?  Perhaps there is sometimes a disconnect between what evangelicals SAY about the Bible and how they BEHAVE with regard to it.  I think that is often so.

Let’s agree with Smith that PIP exists even among equally sincere, equally intelligent, equally spiritual conservative evangelicals.  I think that’s safe to assume.  Who can doubt that “The very same Bible—which biblicists insist is perspicuous and harmonious—gives rise to divergent understandings among intelligent, sincere, committed readers about what it says about most topics of interest?” (17)  But notice that Smith says “most topics of interest.”  Later it becomes clear that he thinks this is true of ALL topics of interest—that evangelicals so described diverge dramatically on virtually EVERYTHING taught in the Bible.  Is that so?  Don’t most, if not all, evangelicals agree on the several statements of the National Association of Evangelicals Statement of Faith?  (You can look it up on line.)  I think they do.  So is Smith making a mountain of disagreement out of a molehill of disagreement?  It depends, I guess, on what you think is “crucial” among the “topics of interest.”

But Smith would simply respond, I suppose, by pointing out the minimal nature of the few articles of belief evangelicals agree on.  And he would no doubt point out that they interpret them differently.  For example, we all agree that God exists, but we debate endlessly God’s nature and attributes.  Smith might say the devil (of PIP) is in the details—even of the few beliefs evangelicals claim to agree about.  I’ll grant him that while reserving the right to think the consensus is greater than he suggests.

Clearly Smith is bothered by PIP among Christians and especially evangelicals.  (I wonder if joining the Catholic Church is going to solve that problem for him?  In spite of the authoritative magisterium there’s lots of interpretive pluralism among Catholics including Catholic biblical scholars and theologians.)  I’m not as bothered by it as he is.  Perhaps that’s because I’m a Pietist.  Later in the book Smith ridicules the Pietist saying “In essential unity, in non-essentials liberty, in all things charity” because the doesn’t think there IS unity in essentials among evangelicals.  I think there is—at least on the few doctrines I claim as essentials.  And different interpretations of them and the non-essentials doesn’t trouble me as much as it apparently does Smith.  John Wesley famously said “If your heart is as mine is, give me your hand.”  Of course, many dogmatists have ridiculed Wesley for saying that, but I find it generous and accurate to the spirit of authentic Christianity which should be tolerant of differing interpretations on many things.  (Surely Wesley did NOT mean “give me your hand even if you don’t believe in the deity of Jesus Christ or in salvation by grace alone or the bodily resurrection of Jesus or his miracles.)  I don’t see why we can’t just agree to disagree about the non-essentials and not get all hot and bothered about that.

Smith states that evangelicals DO NOT agree on the essentials—either on what they mean or what they are. (24)  Smith closes Chapter 1 with this ominous (to him) claim: “If the Bible is all that biblicism claims it to be, then Christians—especially those who share biblicists beliefs—ought to be able to come to a solid consensus about what it teaches, at least on most matters of importance.  But they do not and apparently cannot.  Quite the contrary, Christians, perhaps especially biblicist Christians, are ‘all over the map’ on what the Bible teaches about most issues, topics, and questions.  In this way, the actual functional outcome of the biblicist view of scripture belies biblicism’s theoretical claims about the Bible.  Something is wrong in the biblicist picture that cannot be ignored.” (26)

Before I go on to Chapter 2, allow me to respond to this claim.  First, it seems to me (as I said above) that evangelical Christians do have a consensus on many, if not all, important matters that pertain to salvation.  Where we disagree and fall into PIP is in matters not related to salvation such as eschatology, ecclesiology (including the sacraments) and God’s sovereignty.  To the best of my knowledge, however, in general outlines, crucial doctrines that relate to being saved and living a life pleasing to God are settled for most, if not all, evangelicals.  Second, while it may bother me somewhat, I do not find PIP on secondary issues of doctrine and practice a crisis of the magnitude Smith suggests.  Third, it does not seem to me obvious that PIP of a document means it is not all that biblicism says the Bible is (except perhaps belief 10 above).  \

For example: The United States Constitution is regarded by most Americans and certainly by jurists to be in itself authoritative and perspicuous and harmonious within itself, etc.  And yet PIP has always marked American jurisprudence.  Does PIP in that context make the Constitution NOT what we believe it is—the sole, supreme authority for settling matters of law and policy in our country?  Would Smith say that?  PIP with regard to the Constitution does not arise from any flaw in the Constitution; it arises from finite and biased interpretations of it.  To be sure, the Constitution is not clear about everything, and that causes some of the PIP about it, but nobody says throw it out because of that.  We learn to live with PIP and muddle through our disagreements about its meaning and application.

Of course the analogy breaks down, but I would argue it doesn’t break down on the ONE POINT I’m making here—that just because a document gives rise to different interpretations does not mean it is not solely, supremely authoritative with regard to everything related to its subject matter.  I agree that the Bible is not as clear as we would like it to be, but I think that’s only a problem when we try to make it answer questions it doesn’t answer.  (The same would be true of the Constitution.)  On crucial matters that pertain to its main subject matter (e.g., the character of God) it is quite clear.  That others disagree with my interpretation doesn’t drive me to distraction.  I just think they are biased.  They think I am.  So long as we can worship and witness and cooperate together for the kingdom of God I’m not particularly dismayed.

Still, I feel the force of Smith’s point, even if not as strongly as he would like me to.  PIP is a problem among evangelicals WHEN it leads to breaking of fellowship. And all too often it does lead there.  (For example, I once attended a conference of mostly Calvinists—long before I wrote Against Calvinism or even conceived of it!  I was the lone Arminian there, so far as I could tell.  The Calvinists, some who claimed to be my friends, quite blatantly NEVER invited me to sit with them at a meal, nor did any of them sit with me or others who were not as committed to Calvinism as they are.  And throughout the conference there were no public prayers or worship of any kind.  I could only conclude they did not think it right to worship, pray or even have table fellowship with people who claimed to be Christians but disagree with their view of God’s sovereignty in salvation.)  When I run up against PIP among equally sincere, spiritual, committed evangelical Christians, my first instinct is curiosity rather than dismay.  And I may chalk it up to lack of clarity of Scripture, but I never chalk it up to any real defect in Scripture or even in those who interpret it differently (except, as I said before, if it’s on a matter crucial to salvation).

Having said all that, I have to say I agree with Smith that biblicism AS HE DEFINES AND DESCRIBES it is a problem; it is simply untenable.  Scripture isn’t that—especially not a “handbook” of answers to all of life’s questions.  (See my book Questions to All Your Answers [Zondervan] that includes a chapter on this subject of the Bible containing answers to all of life’s questions—something I equate with folk religion.)

Chapter 2 is entitled “The Extent and Source of Pervasive Interpretive Pluralism.”  Smith runs through a laundry list of areas of Christian belief and practice where evangelicals strongly diverge while equally claiming that the Bible is clear.  That is, all sides of these controversies among evangelicals claim the Bible truly settles the matter in their favor.  This bothers Smith greatly.  They include church polity, free will and predestination, Sabbath keeping, the morality of slavery (in the past), gender difference and equality, wealth, prosperity, poverty and blessing, war, peace and nonviolence, charismatic gifts, etc.

After discussing these controversies in some detail he concludes that “Evangelical biblicists are highly divergent from one another on many scriptural and theological issues and in their consequential cultural and institutional manifestations.” (36)  Who could argue with that?  But is it the Bible’s fault?  Of course, Smith would say no—it is the fault of biblicism.  But Smith SEEMS to be claiming (throughout the book) that the Bible speaks with multiple voices on many important doctrinal issues—that there really IS NO UNITY within the Bible, even when “progressive revelation” is taken into account.  I’m not quite so eager to say that.  I certainly admit that on many issues the Bible is either silent or unclear, but I’m not yet ready to say it speaks with multiple voices on any matter relating to salvation.  That raises the question of the importance status of the issues Smith uses to disprove biblicism.  Are any of them crucial to salvation or even to being a Christian?  I would say not.  But, of course, there are always SOME evangelicals who will claim their own pet doctrine, with which most evangelicals disagree, is crucial to being authentically Christian.  Does that prove PIP or the crisis Smith claims?  I’m not so sure.

HOW COULD THERE EVER BE A SOLUTION TO PIP OF THAT KIND?  Isn’t it natural that SOME evangelicals (and others) will inflate some pet doctrine to a status of importance out of all proportion to it?  I think so.  I don’t see how that can be avoided.  Does it prove anything other than that some evangelicals are fanatics and ought to be corrected by the majority and possibly shunned if they keep insisting their pet doctrine is crucial when it isn’t even a matter of historic orthodoxy let alone crucial to salvation?  For example, in 1919 fundamentalist leader William Bell Riley added premillennialism to the list of “fundamentals of the faith.”  Many fundamentalists embraced that move.  But, over time, the vast majority of evangelicals said no to that.  Sure, evangelicals disagree about the millennium; does that prove anything except that the Bible isn’t as clear as we’d like it to be and we ought to hold our beliefs about it lightly?  Does the fact that the Bible isn’t as clear as we wish about that mean it isn’t perfectly clear about the deity of Jesus Christ or the resurrection or salvation through the cross?  Does the fact that some people who call themselves Christians even disagree with all evangelicals about those doctrines (e.g., Jehovah’s Witnesses) mean the Bible ISN’T clear about them?  I don’t think so.

Much of Chapter 2 is taken up with Smith’s discussion and rejection of six “possible biblicist replies” to his charge that biblicism makes the Bible impossible.  I won’t go through them here.  Some of them are simply ridiculous (e.g., that demons confuse people’s minds so that the clear meaning of Scripture is distorted) IF we’re talking about disagreements among evangelicals.  IF I were a biblicist (which I’m not in Smith’s meaning of the term) I might pose a reply that I don’t think he considers.  It is simply that ALL documents are open to interpretation and we should simply come to terms with that and consider it a result of our finiteness and fallenness and the inevitable ambiguity of documents BECAUSE of our distance from them and our limitations.  This might sound like his first possible biblicist reply, but I think it is different.  His first one is “blame-the-deficient-readers answer.”  But he explains it as saying that all but one interpretation is simply wrong-headed and some people are wrong-headed (i.e., biased, confused, etc.).  My proposed answer isn’t that.  It is rather than the Bible is a historical document and, though verbally inspired, harmonious and perspicuous in and of itself, due to our distance from it and our human limitations of finitude and fallenness we will never come to full agreement about everything it teaches and should come to terms with that while striving to arrive at as much consensus as possible.

Note that nowhere in the book does Smith claim the Bible is ambiguous about the most important matters of salvation or even of basic Christian conduct.  HE SEEMS TO BELIEVE with regard to subjects such as the deity and humanity of Christ, the resurrection, basic morality (e.g., you’re not permitted to have sex with just anyone because you want to), etc., that the Bible IS clear.  What troubles him are the numerous topics of interest to evangelical Christians where it is not perfectly clear.  That simply doesn’t bother me as much as it does him and I’m not as inclined as he is to blame it on the Bible even though I am ready to admit that the Bible is not as clear as we would like it to be on these secondary matters.  But I think that over time some of these issues do become clear.  For example, one of the subjects he uses to illustrate PIP is slavery.  But wait!  Christians HAVE come to consensus about that even though the Bible really ISN’T perfectly clear about it.  So there’s hope for eventual agreement on these matters  IF evangelicals persist in having dialogue about them.  Over time more light will perhaps shine through Scripture and settle the issue in our minds.

The final section of Chapter 2 is “The Reality of Multivocality” (in the Bible).  Here is one way he expresses it: “the Bible is multivocal in its plausible interpretive possibilities: it can and does speak to different listeners in different voices that appear to say different things.  … This means that the Bible often confronts the reader with ‘semantic indeterminacy’.” (47)  Interestingly, he quotes or refers to several conservative (or at least relatively conservative) evangelical scholars to support this.  So who is it that denies it?  Well, of course, fundamentalists.  And, I would say, most of today’s “conservative evangelicals” who are really fundamentalists with manners (sometimes).  (These are the people I call neo-fundamentalists.)  I suspect that ALL of the evangelical scholars he quotes to support his view of the Bible’s multivocality consider themselves in some sense “biblicists,” just not in the very narrow sense Smith uses.

Smith ends Chapter  2 with this startling thesis: “To deny the multivocality of scripture is to live in a self-constructed world of unreality.  Yet scriptural multivocality is a fact that profoundly challenges evangelical biblicism.  It must be overcome or transcended, or biblicism is at least partly mistaken and needs revising.” (54)  Agreed.  Biblicism AS SMITH DEFINES IT needs revising.  And many evangelicals, including some who would still gladly wear the label “biblicist,” have revised it or never adopted it.

One thing I am objecting to is Smith SEEMING equation of “evangelical” with “biblicist” IN HIS SENSE OF BIBLICISM.  I know many evangelical scholars and some evangelical lay people (such as my brother who has no formal theological training) who have NEVER believed in biblicism in Smith’s sense.  ALL OR MOST OF THEM would deny that Scripture speaks with many voices on matters pertaining to basic Christian orthodoxy.  In other words, just because there are people who deny the deity of Christ does not require acknowledgement of PIP about the basic of Christology or the claim that the Bible speaks with many voices about this matter.  Most non-fundamentalist evangelicals, however, would readily admit that the Bible at least SEEMS (as Smith says) to speak with several voices about SOME matters (e.g., women’s status in the church).  Their explanations of this differ, no doubt, but few of them claim it speaks clearly, unambiguously, and univocally about this and other secondary matters about which we must use our best Scripture- and Spirit-guided judgment.  One possible explanation of this situation is that PERHAPS God had his own reasons for leaving some matters unclear.

For example, I once heard a Baptist preacher say that the Bible is unclear about the issue of eternal security for a reason.  If God told us unequivocally that our salvation can be lost, many (most?) Christians would live in fear and possibly despair.  But if God told us unequivocally that our salvation cannot be lost, many (most?) Christians would use that as license to sin.  So God purposely left traces of both truths in Scripture—none of which are so unambiguous that they amount to deception.  One set of traces urges caution; the other urges confidence.  The two do not actually contradict each other, but people intent on having clear, set doctrines about everything tend to interpret one set of traces through the other one and lose the intended balance.

In that case (the illustration immediately above) one could say that Scriptures speaks with two voices on this issue without claiming that the Bible is at fault in the sense of not being a sufficient source and norm of Christian belief and life.

In sum, then, up to here (through Chapter 2) I am not as troubled by PIP as Smith is and I do not think we need to resort to claims that the Bible is incoherent about crucial matters pertaining to salvation because of it.  However, I agree with Smith that biblicism AS HE DEFINES IT is impossible and unnecessary.

Next…Chapters 3 & 4.

The American Religion: Moralistic, Therapeutic Deism (MTD) Part 2

If you have not, please read Part 1 of this 3 part series. Here, in Part 2, I describe my understanding of “therapeutic” in “MTD.”

First, however, I want to remind readers about something many seem either not to know or forget.

Here, in blog posts like this, I am definite NOT describing ALL churches or ALL Christians. I am describing a trend of a type within American Christianity. Please don’t respond with something like “My church isn’t like that!” or “I don’t know Christians that are like that!” Of course not—if you say so. It’s an “If the shoe fits” kind of thing. I know from my own study and experience that there are new trends, even fads, growing among American Christians. Never am I claiming that these are universally true of all churches or Christians. Now, with that out of the way…

*Sidebar: The opinions expressed here are my own (or those of the guest writer); I do not speak for any other person, group or organization; nor do I imply that the opinions expressed here reflect those of any other person, group or organization unless I say so specifically. Before commenting read the entire post and the “Note to commenters” at its end.*

“Moralistic, therapeutic deism” is the label given by sociologists of religion Christian Smith and Kesa Dean to a relatively new religion common and growing among American Christians—especially younger ones. It is embedded within American churches. As a Christian theologian my “job” is not only to describe it but also to counter it by pointing out how and where it deviates from orthodox Christianity.

“Therapeutic” in MTD points to a solution to the anxiety created by moralism. It means (more or less) that even though we cannot live up to God’s (frowning) expectations he always forgives without consequences. And, taken to an extreme, it means that “God is your biggest fan” regardless of how you live (even if he wishes you lived a better life).

Let me illustrate. A now rather old gospel song contained these lyrics: “Though it makes Him sad to see the way we live, He’ll always say ‘I forgive’.” Nothing about repentance. It’s all sunshine and roses after admission that we all always fall short of God’s moral expectations. The proper response to our moral failure is “Don’t Worry; Be Happy.”

Broadening out now to an illustration about the American attitude toward the true function of religion in general…. Years ago I saw a one frame cartoon in The New Yorker that showed a young woman sitting in a chair talking with a therapist. The “balloon” over her head (with words from her mouth) said “What good is an epiphany if it doesn’t make me feel good?”

To too large an extent (again NOT TRUE UNIVERSALLY) Americans regard religion, including evangelical Christianity, as a tool for their recovery from fear, anxiety, guilt, and distress. Of course, it CAN BE THAT. But it is not authentic Christianity if that’s ALL it is.

The meaning of “therapeutic” in MTD is NOT merely the truth of God’s forgiving grace but grace taken for granted, Bonhoeffer’s “cheap grace.”

In the many, many contemporary expressions of popular Christianity I encounter the main message is some version, more or less, of “how to live your best life now” and “don’t worry; be happy” because God loves you.

The ideas of God’s wrath, sin, conviction, and repentance have dwindled in comparison with the ideas of God’s love (often represented as indulgence), grace, mercy, acceptance as you are.

The God of MTD is two faced. On the one hand, he is frowning and disappointed with us due to our seeming inability to live in his will. On the other hand, he is always also forgiving and accepting—without repentance.

Outside of hard core fundamentalism, the growing message of much Christianity is similar to how theologian H. Richard Neibuhr described the liberal Protestantism of his day: “A God without wrath brought men without sin into a kingdom without judgment through the ministrations of a Christ without a cross.”

Anyone who knows what “liberal Christianity” means—historically and theologically—cannot help but recognize that much of American Christianity, even that which calls itself evangelical, has embraced much of it—not by purpose but by neglect. Neglect of doctrine, church discipline, talk about God’s wrath and the need for repentance, hell, etc.

Now I’m going to depart from Dean’s and Smith’s meaning of “therapeutic” in MTD and add a dimension of my own. I believe there is a therapeutic thrust at the core of Calvinism. It is the message that whatever is happening, without exception, glorifies God and is therefore ultimately good. As one famous Calvinist of the past put it “Those who find themselves suffering in the flames of hell can at least take comfort in the fact that they are there for the greater glory of God.”

Ultimately, I believe, the attraction of the new Calvinism (if not all Calvinism) is this idea that all is well even if it doesn’t seem so. “Behind a frowning providence He [God] hides a smiling face.” Ultimately, seen from God’s perspective, nothing is really fundamentally wrong. It is all as it should be because God designed, ordained and governs it all—down to the smallest detail including sin, evil and (seemingly) innocent suffering.

This is the therapeutic thrust of Calvinism. Yes, Calvinism includes talk about God’s wrath and our need for repentance, but it also includes meticulous providence in which nothing in the world is really out of place. It is all as it should be and as God wants it to be—for his glory which is our summum bonum.

Of course, Calvinists will object. But if they do, they had better give a good reason for it.

*Note to commenters: This blog is not a discussion board; please respond with a question or comment only to me. If you do not share my evangelical Christian perspective (very broadly defined), feel free to ask a question for clarification, but know that this is not a space for debating incommensurate perspectives/worldviews. In any case, know that there is no guarantee that your question or comment will be posted by the moderator or answered by the writer. If you hope for your question or comment to appear here and be answered or responded to, make sure it is civil, respectful, and “on topic.” Do not comment if you have not read the entire post and do not misrepresent what it says. Keep any comment (including questions) to minimal length; do not post essays, sermons or testimonies here. Do not post links to internet sites here. This is a space for expressions of the blogger’s (or guest writers’) opinions and constructive dialogue among evangelical Christians (very broadly defined).

The American Religion: Moralistic, Therapeutic Deism (MTD) Part 1

Several years ago sociologists of religion Kenda Dean and Christian Smith announced their discovery of the religion of most American Christian teenagers in Almost Christian (Oxford University Press, 2010). They labeled it “Moralistic, Therapeutic Deism.” During the years since their book’s publication much discussion has surrounded their proposal. With apologies to them and acknowledging a debt to them, here, in a three part series, I would like to dissect and discuss Moralistic, Therapeutic Deism (MTD) from my own perspective. Together with the Gospel Coalition (or at least some of its members who have written on the subject) I consider MTD not only a religion among teenagers but also one common among American Christians generally—including many evangelical Christians.

My “take” on MTD is going to be distinctly theological. I am going to approach it from a biblical-theological perspective rooted in traditional evangelical Christianity. I make no claim that my analysis matches Dean’s and Smith’s exactly. Here I am “musing” about what I observe among American Christians generally as I go about and teach and speak and interact with them.

First of all, then, “moralistic;” what does that mean and what’s good and right about it and where are its dangers?

I hope to begin each analysis (of each term of MTD) with some reference to popular culture. While the song “From a Distance (God is Watching Us)” could also point toward deism, here I am going to use it as an illustration of moralism. The song was, of course, made popular by Bette Midler in the 1980s. The song’s writer denied that she was a deist, proclaiming belief in God’s immanence. However, the song as often interpreted as an expression of deism—that God is distant and uninvolved but concerned about human behavior.

I could back up to the 1950s and my childhood in Sunday School for another illustration in song. We often sang “O Be Careful Little Feet Where You Go.” I won’t repeat the lyrics here and I’m sure they differed from one religious context to another. But the overall theme seemed to be that God is watching our every move, every thought, and judging us. Of course, the song also mentioned God’s love, but most people I know who grew up singing that song in Sunday School derived a moralistic message about God from it.

*Sidebar: The opinions expressed here are my own (or those of the guest writer); I do not speak for any other person, group or organization; nor do I imply that the opinions expressed here reflect those of any other person, group or organization unless I say so specifically. Before commenting read the entire post and the “Note to commenters” at its end.*

So what is “moralism?” Like most religious and philosophical and ethical terms it has several meanings. In brief, though, it is the idea that the purpose of human life is to live up to a moral standard of thought and behavior through endeavor and discipline. It is (generally speaking) the idea that some set of ethical rules or principles provide the “telos” (goal, purpose) of life and that we are somehow or other judged by our living up to them. In religious moralism, it is usually God who is thought to be the judge. True religious moralism tends to emphasize that salvation is achieved through achieving the good life according to the moral code and that we are able to do that.

In Christian history this was ultimately judged to be heresy at the Council of Ephesus in 431 A.D. (This was the fourth ecumenical or universal council of the orthodox-catholic church of the Roman Empire and is still adhered to by many Eastern Orthodox, Roman Catholic and Protestant Christians.) Scholars debate endlessly whether the monk Pelagius actually taught the heresy that was condemned and that came to bear his name “Pelagianism.” But Pelagianism was and still is the word we in Christian theology use for the idea that everyone is capable, by their own effort, to obey all of God’s commands and that God expects that of us. It’s a matter of emphasis. Pelagianism typically begins with the “will of God” interpreted as a set of rules and teaches that everyone is capable of obeying God’s will and that this is what God expects of us. Yes, to be sure, Pelagians all believe God will forgive. They disagree about the means of forgiveness. But Pelagianism is a fairly extreme form of Christian moralism.

Very few Christians would admit to being Pelagians. However, anyone who interacts with American Christians across denominational lines will discover quickly that many think of God as judge of our lives and emphasize Christianity as a way of life centered around rules and ethics.

A major influencer in modern religious moralism (even Pelagianism) was philosopher Immanuel Kant (d. 1804) who believed and taught it in a fairly extreme way. Kant’s influence in modern religion, especially Christianity, cannot be over emphasized. In short, he tended to reduce religion, including Christianity, to ethics. That has become extremely common in American Christianity on both the “right” and “left” sides of the spectrum of Christianity. That is, both conservatives and liberals tend to reduce Christianity to ethics. That’s moralism.

It is a major “job” of Christian leaders, pastors and teachers, to correct moralism without denying the importance of morality. Morals are good (if they are the right ones!). Moralism is bad (from an orthodox Christian perspective).

The gospel of Jesus Christ is about our common human failure to live up to God’s expectations and God’s delivering and forgiving grace and mercy when we repent and trust in Jesus Christ’s atoning death on the cross. This does not expel or contradict morality but it does contradict and should expel moralism—from Christianity. The fact is that we cannot live up to God’s moral expectations and God knows it and has provided for our salvation in spite of our enduring failure to live up to his standards of holy living.

True moralism is actually a false religion—according to orthodox Christianity. And yet it remains and flourishes as one of the most common attitudes and beliefs among American Christians. What it leads to is either self-righteousness—in those who think they do live up to God’s moral standards of holiness—or defeat and doubt of salvation among those who know they cannot live up to God’s moral standards of holiness.

True Christianity includes morality without moralism. By God’s help, empowered by the Holy Spirit, we are capable of improvement in “inward righteousness.” But God knows we cannot keep his will perfectly and has provided for forgiveness and reconciliation with him in spite of our moral failings.

In other words, to put it very practically, drawing on Luther, our Christian teaching and preaching must always combine law with gospel. Law alone is very bad news; gospel alone can lead to “antinomianism”—a kind of Christian hedonism (not the kind John Piper used to preach, teach and write about).

Example. A philosopher was dying. The minister was called. The minister asked him if he thought God would forgive him. His answer is famous: “To forgive—that is God’s business.” That is taking grace for granted.

And that is a perfect segue into the “T” of MTD—in Part 2 of this series.

*Note to commenters: This blog is not a discussion board; please respond with a question or comment only to me. If you do not share my evangelical Christian perspective (very broadly defined), feel free to ask a question for clarification, but know that this is not a space for debating incommensurate perspectives/worldviews. In any case, know that there is no guarantee that your question or comment will be posted by the moderator or answered by the writer. If you hope for your question or comment to appear here and be answered or responded to, make sure it is civil, respectful, and “on topic.” Do not comment if you have not read the entire post and do not misrepresent what it says. Keep any comment (including questions) to minimal length; do not post essays, sermons or testimonies here. Do not post links to internet sites here. This is a space for expressions of the blogger’s (or guest writers’) opinions and constructive dialogue among evangelical Christians (very broadly defined).

Discussion of Scot McKnight’s Kingdom Conspiracy: Returning to the Radical Mission of the Local Church Part One

A few days ago here I invited you to read Kingdom Conspiracy (Brazos Press, 2014) along with me and participate in a discussion of it here. Hopefully you have obtained the book by now and are prepared to participate as you wish. I will be offering my thoughts about the book in several response posts over the next couple weeks.

First, let me say that this topic “Kingdom of God” has long interested me. A few years ago I taught an elective theology seminar on the subject at the seminary where I teach. Then I gathered as many book about the Kingdom of God as I could and selected several for the students and I to read and discuss together. One thing we found very clear is variety of interpretation about the meaning of “Kingdom of God” and “Kingdom of the heavens” among biblical scholars and theologians. Since my own seminary experience in the 1970s I’ve tended to agree mostly with evangelical scholar George Eldon Ladd who wrote extensively on the subject. (McKnight mentions Ladd and his profound influence on evangelical students and scholars.) This subject seems to illustrate what Christian Smith called “pervasive interpretive pluralism.” And, as I tell my students at the beginning of every class, “The Bible is not as clear as we wish it were.” That’s why theology is necessary. But, over the centuries and still today, “top notch,” “world class” biblical scholars and theologians continue to disagree about the meaning of “Kingdom of God.”

Second, Scot’s book is not exactly like many others on this subject. It is intentionally polemical—not in a “bad” sense (insulting, argumentative) but in the sense of opposing certain views and proposing his own to replace them. In the background of the book is Scot’s concern (clearly expressed) that some, perhaps many, contemporary Christians are looking for the Kingdom of God completely outside of any church context, leaving the church behind and interpreting “Kingdom of God” as something that happens outside of and away from church. Scot clearly wants to re-connect the Kingdom of God with the church. But will he identify it with church? If so, with what church?

Third, laying all my cards on the table, I am open to correction about this subject, but I come to it with my own opinion shaped primarily by Ladd. So that makes me one of what Scot calls the “Pleated Pants” crowd—about the Kingdom of God. I’ll come back to that metaphor later. Ladd was a historical premillennialist. He believed that, although the Kingdom of God is God’s dynamic reign “between the times” (creation and consummation), hidden in the world, appearing wherever God’s will is done, its fullness will appear only in the millennium so vividly (even if only partially) described in chapters such as Isaiah 65 and Revelation 20.

So, with those preliminary explanations, let’s plunge into the first two chapters of Kingdom Conspiracy.

Scot begins this book with a clever and intriguing juxtaposition of two interpretations of “Kingdom of God” among contemporary evangelicals. The two are what he calls “Skinny Jeans Kingdom” and “Pleated Pants Kingdom.” The former, described in Chapter 1, tends to view the Kingdom of God as “good deed done by good people (Christian or not) in the public sector for the common good.” (4) Scot’s response to this interpretation of Kingdom of God is simple, straightforward and undeniably correct: “The Bible never calls working for the common good ‘kingdom work’.” (5) Scot reveals that his “skinny jeans” people are mostly Christian “millennials.” Increasingly (not exclusively) they are coming to talk about Kingdom of God in terms of social activism for the common good in the public sector.

Chapter 2 is entitled “Pleated Pants Kingdom.” There Scot describes an older, alternative vision of Kingdom of God to “Skinny Jeans Kingdom.” “Pleated Pants” Christians tend to interpret the Kingdom under the influence of Ladd as: Jesus’ redemptive lordship, inaugurated by Jesus, at work in the world now, God’s “redemptive-rule dynamic,” to be fulfilled in the future when Christ returns. “The location of the kingdom for the Pleated Pants crowd is nowhere and everywhere at the same time! It is wherever redemption is occurring, and of course ‘redemption’ can shift its meaning from the spiritual to the social without so much as notifying us.” (13) According to Scot, this vision of the Kingdom of God makes “kingdom” mean nothing because it means everything. (14)

Scot accuses both of these common (mainly evangelical) interpretations of “Kingdom of God” of being extra-biblical and overly vague (“gauzy”). He acknowledges some truth in both views (18), but argues that both “fall substantially short” of what Kingdom of God meant to Jesus. (18) He calls for greater clarity and precision in talk about “Kingdom of God” among Christians.

Toward the end of Chapter 2 Scot lays down a “rule”: “Never use the world ‘kingdom’ for what we do in the ‘world’.” (18) Apparently the entire book is going to serve as a justification for that rule.

I hesitate to express any opinion about a book based solely on its first two chapters. (I have read more, but here, for now, I’ll restrict myself to responding to the first two chapters only.)

First, I hope Scot doesn’t mean to imply that everyone who talks about “Kingdom of God” falls into one or the other camp or view—either the “Skinny Jeans” or the “Pleated Pants.” I take it these are two prominent interpretations of Kingdom of God that Scot has encountered (as I have) and wants to correct.

Second, I agree with Scot that both views can be unbalanced and partial and, taken to an extreme, are theologically incorrect. He tends to describe them in their more extreme versions. The point he seems to be working toward is their exclusion of the church from “Kingdom of God” description. I’m not sure, however, that all Skinny Jeans and Pleated Pants people would go that far. These are tendencies and both tend to neglect the church in their description of the Kingdom of God.

Third, I feel that Scot is being a bit dismissive with statements such as in the Pleated Pants interpretation (Ladd’s and his followers’) “kingdom” means nothing because it means everything. (14) That doesn’t follow from anything Ladd said or that any of Ladd’s followers I’ve ever met mean. It’s an overstatement that needs correction. Without citing chapter or verse in Ladd (which I’m sure I could because I’ve read all his books on the subject) Ladd (and those of his followers faithful to his interpretation) looked to the future as the touchstone of what “Kingdom of God” looks like in the here and now. That future is the millennial reign of Jesus Christ. Wherever Jesus reigns in life here and now foreshadows that future Kingdom and so can be called the Kingdom of God between the times—“already but not yet.” That hardly justifies saying it means “nothing.” (I’m being a bit defensive, but I can’t help it.)

Fourth, these first two chapters certainly grabbed my attention and intrigued me enough to want to read on. I do agree with Scot that both of the dominant views of the Kingdom of God tend to be vague and need more precision. And I agree that the church of Jesus Christ needs to be brought more clearly into both views. Both can leave the church behind as unnecessary for a holistic vision of the Kingdom of God.

My next post will discuss Chapters 3 and 4: “Tell Me the Kingdom Story” and “Kingdom Mission Is All about Context” respectively. I’ve read them already, but will re-read them and then summarize and comment on them in a few days. I may post on another subject (or two) between now and then, so don’t think I’ve forgotten this series or quit it just because I interrupt it with blogs posts on other subjects.

I received this question by e-mail:

“I’ve been wrestling lately with this question:  I’m wondering why the bible is so unclear on topics that are supposed to be so important (ie Divorce – I know the exception clause, but OK to remarry? Have a church position post-divorce;  Duration of Hell – is punishment eternal leading to annihilation or is it eternal punishment?; Baptism – essential to salvation? Pick a topic – the list goes on).  More broadly, if faith is the way and not the law, why was that not more clear to the Israelites of the Old Testament?  I’m sure the Church Fathers addressed this somewhere but not sure where to look.  My sense is that knowing too much has proven dangerous to us humans and this seeming obfuscation is to keep us on our knees.  As Greg Boyd says to his own father in Letters to a Skeptic, whatever we don’t know, we start with what we do, which is Christ (God’s full revelation) and work our way backwards and leave to a loving God that which we can’t understand.  I agree with that but when we’re looking for actual direction on how best to please God, why the lack of clarity doesn’t seem to make much sense.”

I offer no simplistic answers (I hope). But I am reminded of something Abraham Lincoln is supposed to have said (but it might have been any one of a number of famous people others attribute favorite sayings to): “It’s not the parts of the Bible I don’t understand that bother me; it’s the parts that I do understand.” Well, okay, that’s not going to go very far in answering the e-mailers honest question.

About a year ago I blogged here about Christian Smith’s book The Bible Made Impossible. Smith argues that there is a major obstacle to regarding the Bible as authoritative in the Protestant sense of “sola scriptura”–Scripture alone without any necessary interpretation magisterially given by tradition. That is “pervasive interpretive pluralism.” In other words, as Smith sees it, there are so many reasonable interpretations of the Bible (to say nothing of unreasonable ones!) that we must have something alongside scripture to tell us what it means–namely, magisterial tradition. Around the time he wrote that book Smith joined the Roman Catholic Church because, of course, the next question after his answer is–but who interprets tradition? So, he decided the pope does.

A problem with that, in my humble opinion, is that Christian Smith decided the pope decides what tradition means when it tells us what the Bible means. So, ultimately (and there’s no escaping this)–Smith himself was for himself the ultimate “decider” of what is authoritative and worthy of belief.

Back to the e-mailer’s good question above.

First, speaking only for myself, and realizing I will sound like a fundamentalist here, I don’t think the Bible is all that unclear if read and studied properly, that is, reasonably–recognizing the Bible for what it is (now I’ll stop sounding like a fundamentalist)–not a source book of propositional answers to curious questions but a complex narrative written and compiled by human authors led by but not over ridden by the Holy Spirit.

Second, still speaking only for myself, in my opinion, everything we need to know to have a sound relationship with God and to become whole and holy persons is clear in Scripture.

Third, just because people disagree about what a text means does not mean it isn’t clear. There are all kinds of reasons why people don’t “see” what is clear. They approach scripture with preconceived interpretive frameworks that don’t really fit all of scripture or they are morally challenged and don’t want the Bible to contradict their lifestyle or vested interests or they are looking for harmony beyond what the Bible offers or was intended to offer. There are many conceivable reasons why people disagree about what the Bible says.

An analogy–the U.S. Constitution. Right now a debate rages among Americans about the meaning of the “Second Amendment.” But is the Second Amendment really unclear? I don’t think so. I think some people whose minds are clouded by their love of guns over interpret it in a way that distorts its true, historical, simple meaning. The same thing happens with the Bible all the time.

Still, in spite of those explanations (for “pervasive interpretive pluralism” in spite of biblical perspicuity in essential matters) I will admit that there are many secondary matters of belief and practice where Scripture seems to lack the clarity I and most of us would like to see there. If scripture is truly unclear about a matter, it can’t be essential to a healthy relationship with God.

I often find myself saying to myself “Well, I can’t understand how that other person can be so wrong about what scripture means, but I have to remember I have been wrong and still might be wrong even though I don’t think so–about this. So I won’t condemn the person but gently strive with him to get him to see it my way. In the process it’s possible I’ll come to see it his way. That’s the nature of being finite and fallen. We are all fallible. But I can’t let that lack of absolute certainty paralyze me.”