Remembering Progressive Evangelicals: The Clapham Sect

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Have you ever heard of The Clapham Sect? Probably not. Unless you are a church historian (professional or amateur) and one who specializes in evangelical history, British social and political history, the history of abolition, etc.

I believe this is an example of “history that deserves to be remembered.”

Today, in the third decade of the 21st century, most Americans think all evangelicals are politically hard-core right-wing people and many of them thinks being against social reform or progressive politics and economics is simply part of being “evangelical.”

Some political commentators have contributed to that mistaken impression. One in particular, whose names I won’t mention here, publicly warned American Christians to avoid churches that talked about social justice.

As a historian of Christianity and especially evangelicalism, I can assure you that there have always been counter-examples to that mistaken impression. When I was being formed theologically in the 1970s several groups of evangelicals formed into networks and organizations to oppose the War in Vietnam (America’s involvement) there and to promote civil rights, equality for all people, women’s liberation from oppression, etc. They/we were labeled “The Evangelical Left” by conservative evangelical leaders and thinkers including Carl Henry and Millard Erickson. Our publications included The Post-American which became Sojourners and The Other Side. My late friend Donald Dayton wrote a bombshell book entitled “Discovering an Evangelical Heritage.” The book drew heavily on the work of evangelical historian Timothy Smith. It demonstrated conclusively that before D. L. Moody, so throughout much of the 19th century, many conservative, evangelical Christians in America were social progressivists including, among others, B. T. Roberts, founder of the Free Methodist Church.

Somewhere along my journey away from fundamentalism and socio-political conservatism mixed with evangelical Christianity, I discovered The Clapham Sect which was not really as “sect” at all. Some have preferred to re-label them “The Clapham Group.” The best known member was William Wilberforce. This was a group of mostly English evangelical social reformers who pressed for the abolition of slavery and the slave trade. They were encouraged by former slave ship captain and hymn writer John Newton. Most of the members of the group were evangelical Anglicans. (Yes, there have always been and still are evangelical Anglicans. Think J. I. Packer, Michael Green, N. T. Wright and others.)

The Clapham Sect met on a regular basis to strategize and encourage each other to pressure the British government to become more socially and political progressive including abolition of slavery and equal rights for women. Many have credited them with laying the groundwork in the UK for the abolition of child labor and for state support for the indigent—other than simply throwing them into “work houses.”

Members of the “sect” were not communists or socialists in any modern sense, but they saw an England that they believed could be more compassionate toward the weak, the vulnerable, the oppressed and worked toward social policies that abolished such things a unearned privilege in the courts.

There were similar groups of progressive evangelicals in the Scandinavian countries and in America. Evangelical Methodist B. T. Roberts broke away from the Methodist Episcopal Church because of its reluctance to denounce slavery, its failure to ordain women or let them preach or be pastors, and its growing tendency to favor the rich and powerful in American society. As I mentioned earlier, he founded the Free Methodist Church which in 1860 was one of the first Christian denominations to have ordained women pastors and preachers. Roberts was also an outspoken abolitionist along with evangelical Charles Finney and other especially northern evangelicals.

What about today? The power of the media has transformed the word “evangelical” to the point where a progressive Christian (and here I mean socially and politically progressive) automatically cannot be considered an evangelical. And many progressive evangelicals have succumbed to that and dropped the label “evangelical,” handing it over to the neo-fundamentalists and “Christian” white nationalists. “Trumpism” and “evangelical” have become almost synonymous. That is the media’s fault.

The fact is that evangelical Christianity is a spiritual-theological type, not a monolithic movement or even a movement at all. But I have said and explained this so many times here that I feel like I’m beating a dead horse. I will stop now. But know that I am very angry that my evangelicalism has been hijacked by neo-fundamentalists and socio-political reactionaries who idolize America and buy into Social Darwinism.

An Almost Forgotten Evangelical Movement and Theology: Keswick

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Recently my wife and I watched a travelogue about Great Britain’s “Lake District.” The presenter went to several towns and villages and showed Keswick as a kind of “party town” in the northwest of England. The focus of that segment was on tourists flocking to Keswick to enjoy festivals and pubs, etc. I was furious that no mention was made of the religious significance of Keswick. Keswick is one of the holiest towns in evangelical history—the site of the great Keswick Convention for many years. Thousands of Christians flocked there for July-August annual conventions that emphasized what was called the “Higher Life” theology and spirituality. The movement began in 1875 but still flourishes although much diminished in numbers of people attending. Still, and nevertheless, “Keswick” and its Christian conventions were and still are extremely influential among a certain branch of evangelical Christianity through speakers and writers.

Recently I attended a home-based Bible study where we were reading and discussing a well-known and widely read devotional book entitled “A Shepherd Looks at the 23rd Psalm” by Phillip Keller. I noticed the phrase “overcoming Christian life” and immediately that rang a bell. I’m sure that Keller was influenced by the Keswick movement and its distinct theology of Christian living.

”Keswick theology” emanated from its origins in England throughout the world. I was raised on it. My home church and my family home were saturated with Keswick theology even where it was not called that. Here are just some of the books and authors I read—mostly from my father’s pastoral library but also found on bookshelves in my home: Hannah Whitall Smith, “The Christian’s Secret of a Happy Life” and many books by J. Sidlow Baxter, A. W. Tower, R. A. Torrey, Andrew Murray, Ian Thomas, Alan Redpath, Stephen Olford, Watchman Nee and Amy Carmichael.

What did all these have in common that makes them representatives of Keswick theology?”

The basic idea of Keswick theology is that the normal Christian life is not one of sin and forgiveness without victory over sin. It is possible and best, even normal, for a true Christian to achieve, with the help of the Holy Spirit within, an “overcoming,” “higher,” “deeper,” holy life devoid of willful sin.

Now, some of you more knowledgeable readers (about church history and especially evangelical theology) will immediately thing about the Wesleyan-Holiness movement. Yes, there are parallels between the two, but the Keswick teachers and writers were and are not usually of the Wesleyan-Holiness persuasion—when it comes to HOW the life of “victory over sin” happens. The Keswickians did not teach any experience of eradication of the sinful nature; they typically shied away from talk of “Christian perfection” or “entire sanctification.”

However, there were “crossover” people who had one foot in the Wesleyan-Holiness movement and the other foot in the Keswick movement. One such was A. B. Simpson, founder of the Christian Missionary Alliance denomination. He was at least influenced by Phoebe Palmer, the key figure in the nineteenth century development of the American Holiness movement.

There is a very good video talk about the Keswick movement entitled “Keswick and Revival” (31 minutes) by Mike Attwood—a British Keswickian. For those of you interested in examining this movement further I suggest this one on the web: “Keswick: A Bibliographic Introduction to the Higher Life Movments [the middle “e” accidentally omitted]—Asbury Theological Seminary.” There you will find a list of almost all the names of people associated with the Keswick movement from its beginnings (and backgrounds) to recent times.

One “background” person was Charles Grandisson Finney—nineteenth century revivalist who believed in a kind of Christian perfection but without an experience of eradication of sin. The Keswick movement and its theology was probably popularized more by later nineteenth century revivalist D. L. Moody than anyone else. Billy Graham admits in his autobiography being strongly influenced by the Keswick theology.

I grew up in a non-Wesleyan branch of the Pentecostal movement and our view of sanctification was profoundly influenced by Keswick theology through the authors (and more) that I mentioned above. We did not believe in a “third blessing” after the infilling of the Holy Spirit that would bring “Christian perfection.” In place of that, our belief about Christian higher life was that of the Keswick movement. My father, a Pentecostal minister for fifty-three years, said that he knew a few people who he considered “sinless.” That was not uncommon among our people, but we did not believe in any eradication of the sinful nature. We believed the sinful nature would always be with us and in us until our “glorification” in the resurrection (and, presumably in our intermediate condition of bodiless existence with Christ in Paradise awaiting the resurrection).

A key phrase used by Keswick teachers was and is “Let go and let God.” Of course, that exhortation has spread far beyond the limits of Keswick theology, but for the Keswickians it means—stop trying to overcome sin on your own and let God take over your life through crucifying the “self” and allowing the Holy Spirit to take its place at the center of your motivational will.

Keswick theology divided especially the Reformed evangelical “family” of Christians. Some adopted it and combined it with Calvinism and some Calvinists reacted against it, almost calling it a heresy. A recent book by Andy Nasselli, a Calvinist theologian, criticizes Keswick theology and its influence. Calvinist theologian J. I. Packer has criticized its influence on his early Christian life. I suspect most of the Gospel Coalition people are opposed to it.

If you are wondering about the biblical basis for Keswick theology, watch and listen to “Keswick and Revival” on Youtube by the above mentioned Mike Attwood.

I detect, discern, that Keswick theology has lost its popularity but still exists in “echoes” in many devotional books and speakers’ presentations. It is rarely called that (Keswick theology). It is almost always referred to as “High Life” Christianity. Bill Bright, founder of Campus Crusade for Christ was strongly influenced by it. It pops up here and there in Bible studies (as I mentioned above) and sermons and devotional books—hardly ever mentioned by name as “Keswick theology.”

While I do not “buy into” Keswick theology one hundred percent, I think it was a worthwhile antidote to what evangelical philosopher Dallas Willard labeled “sin management” as the common (not normal) Christian life. The Keswickians clearly recognized that problem in most Christians’ lives and developed their “Higher Life” theology to counteract it.

About Men and Church

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There has been a lot of “talk” (much in writing) about why American men are increasingly staying away from church. The purported statistics bear this out. About two-thirds of regular church attenders are female. Of course, that varies by denomination, but overall and in general more women than men attend and participate in church faithfully. More men than women stay away from church or attend without participating.

I can attest to that—from my own experience of attending (on a regular basis) about sixteen churches during my lifetime. (Four of those were during my four college years!) Over the years I have noticed a trend of men (and boys not taken to church by their mothers) quietly staying away from church.

I don’t think this is a totally new phenomenon, of course, as the media have long portrayed family men as staying away from church as their “women folk” (“Walton’s Mountain” is one example) attended and actively participated in church. In fact, it’s difficult to think of any television series where a man or men attended church voluntarily.

People who track church attendance and participation trends, however, do report, and my observation supports this, that increasingly men do stay away from church. I have also observed that many men in church are not worshiping but sitting silently (or conversing) in the foyer or in the sanctuary watching something on their iPads or cell phones or whatever—especially toward the back or in the balcony.

Of course there are always exceptions to any generalization. But one exception kind of proves the “trend theory”—Mark Driscoll and Mars Hill Church in Seattle when he pastored there. Mark made a point of drawing men into his church by making the worship and his preaching very “masculine” (some would say “macho”). It worked. Especially young males flocked to his church and it became a mega-church where males actively attended and participated enthusiastically.

Now, let’s set aside an obvious objection. Nobody is denying that women have largely been denied leadership roles in many especially conservative churches. The issue here is that, allegedly, the ethos of church is feminine and men increasingly feel excluded—rightly or wrongly.

Some claim the blame lies partly on the imagery of God and Jesus — as “meek and mild” and “loving and sweet” and “gentle and kind” without any balance of God’s and Jesus’s wild side.

But there’s also the plain fact, hardly deniable, that men by nature tend (I said tend!) to be loners. Not that they want to be, but that their masculine nature (whatever that is, exactly) TENDS to turn them toward aloneness. They can be sociable, of course, but in more limited times and ways than women. But this hardly explains the current (decades-long) TREND of men away from church attendance and participation.

I can’t prove what I am about to say and I admit it is based almost exclusively on a subjective perception and interpretation of what I observe. Our American society is saturated with aggressiveness and violence. While many in the mass media decry those, they also focus on them. Why, for example, did they focus so long and so hard on Will Smith’s slapping of Chris Rock? Was that really worth that much media attention and commentary? And what about the five minute “news story” on national news about Mike Tyson getting into a fight with an airline passenger? Really? Is that worthy of that much attention?

My point is simply that, in my humble opinion, fallible as it is, our society is increasingly glorifying aggressiveness. Call it “machismo” or whatever. Yes, they are also portraying women that way, but who really takes that seriously? It’s cartoonish. We all know it’s not natural to women to go around hitting and kicking and beating up men. It’s fake (on TV and in movies). But is there a hidden joy in “machismo?” If so, what is that doing to boys and men in our contemporary American society? And how is church dealing with that? By trying to make boys and men more like women? By portraying Jesus as gentle, meek, mild, sweet? I don’t know. Maybe there’s something to that.

One Christian author, former Christianity Today editor Mark Galli, wrote a book about Jesus being mean and wild. A few other Christian speakers and authors have tried to describe and portray Jesus as masculine. There have been some feeble attempts to draw boys into church by bringing along roving Christian groups of muscle-bound weight-lifters, etc., etc. I don’t think any of those strategies helped the situation.

What can churches do to draw in more men (and boys) and cause them to want to participate more?

May I tentatively make one humble suggestion?

When I was growing up in church SOME of our music (hymns and choir “numbers”) were marshal, almost military. I especially remember “God of Our Fathers, Whose Almighty Hand…” with trumpets and trombones bridging between the verses, etc. And that wasn’t the only one like that. Those kinds of songs in worship seem to have faded away almost entirely. What if someone wrote some contemporary hymns  and “praise and worship” songs that had more of a masculine “feel” to them? More “marching band” and marshal ethos? And what if more churches recruited men and boys to sing—from the “platform?”

What if churches became more realistic about boys and men without catering to the temptations typical for men and boys? I’m not advocating showing “Fight Club” on a Sunday evening (what churches have Sunday evening or show films anymore, anyway?)! I’m suggesting that maybe we could find ways to firm up church to be less gentle and sweet—without abandoning those virtues—and more wild and aggressive—channeled in good ways?

Review of That All Shall Be Saved by David Bentley Hart

I don’t think I have ever read a book quite like this one. It’s “one of a kind” (which is really a shortened version of “the only one of its kind”). How so? It’s extremely erudite, even ostentatiously so, challenging to the mind, very harsh towards anyone who disagrees with the author’s central thesis (even insulting them), and very difficult to disagree with. Yet I do disagree with it.

Here is a “taste” of what is common throughout the book: “I honestly, perhaps guilelessly believe that the doctrine of eternal hell is prima facie nonsensical, for the simple reason that it cannot even be stated in Christian theological terms without a descent into equivocity so precipitous and total that nothing but edifying gibberish remains. To say that, on the one hand, God is infinitely good, perfectly just, and inexhaustibly loving, and that, on the other hand, he has created a world under such terms as oblige him either to impose, or to permit imposition of, eternal misery on finite rational beings, is simply to embrace a complete contradiction.” (202-3)

You have to be prepared for this book; it will hit you in the face. The author pulls no punches. He does not feel any shame in shaming those who disagree with him. According to him, they are either irrational or willfully ignorant or something just as bad. Of course, he is writing for and to Christians who have some facility for thinking about these matters (I assume).

So what is the central thesis of the book? It is found (among other places) on page 44: “From the perspective of Christian belief, the very notion of a punishment that is not intended ultimately to be remedial is morally dubious (and, I submit, anyone who doubts this has never understood Christian teaching at all); but, even if one believes that Christianity makes room for the condign imposition of purely retributive punishments, it remains the case that a retribution consisting in unending suffering, imposed as recompense for the actions of a finite intellect and will, must be by any sound definition disproportionate, unjust, and at the last nothing more than an expression of sheer pointless cruelty.”

(Here I have to stop quoting in order to not go over the legal limit. For your information, the book is published by Yale University Press, 2019.)

*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.*

Now, I want you to read this book, so I am not going to “give it all away.” You really need to read the book to be smacked by the author’s rhetoric and logic. I cannot possibly do it justice merely to talking about it. Hart is a master wordsmith. And it seems he enjoys using exquisite rhetoric, marvelous vocabulary, excellent sentences, to cower critics. If you disagree with him, you almost have to be a masochist to read this book. I enjoyed reading it, so maybe I am something of a masochist.

(Did you hear the one about the conversation between the sadist and the masochist? The masochist begged the sadist to hit him and the sadist kept saying “no, no, no.”)

Throughout the book Hart appeals to Gregory of Nyssa, the Cappadocian Father, who advocated the eventual universal reconciliation of all God’s sensible, rational souls (human beings) if not all of God’s creatures (including the devil and his minions). He mentions several other ancient Christians who agreed with what has been called “apokatastasis”—eventual (not immediate upon death) ultimate reconciliation. Hart believes in hell; he just believes it is temporal. In this he agrees with (but never mentions) Jürgen Moltmann. He strongly disagrees with Hans Urs von Balthasar who famously wrote that Christians may hope for the eventual salvation of all souls. Hart considers that hope insufficient. Throughout the book he heaps scorn on those of us who believe it is entirely possible that God will lose some of his creatures because of their undying rejection of his mercy.

Hart comes at his argument from several directions. He spends an entire chapter exegeting biblical passages that the believes not only support but require belief in final, ultimate reconciliation. He argues that western Christianity, especially, went off the rails, so to speak, in several significant ways, with Augustine of Hippo who he blames for “infernalist orthodoxy”—belief in the unending torment of some human beings in hell. He argues that infernalist orthodoxy cannot be reconciled with the goodness of God and that the goodness of God is absolutely necessary to any belief in God who is not “a god” but Goodness Itself.

For me, as a believer in genuine free will as power of contrary choice, the most difficult chapter is “Fourth Meditation: What Is Freedom?” (pp. 159-195) There Hart seems to deny libertarian free will and more than implies that God is by definition the all-determining reality. Even sin and evil must be under God’s control; nothing at all, whatever, can escape God’s absolute and all-encompassing sovereignty. And yet, he scorns Calvinism and Augustinianism. Where is the difference? Hart believes, apparently, that God, being infinite, cannot be an agency competitive with other agencies. Or, to put it otherwise, finite wills cannot compete with God’s infinite will and power. Whatever happens is somehow willed by God. He denies the distinction, which I find very important, between God’s “antecedent will” and God’s “consequent will.”

This chapter is very “deep.” I would like to say “profound,” but I find it confusing. I’m sure Hart would say that is my fault and not his. Perhaps so. It is an exercise in metaphysics in which Hart asserts this non-competitive view of God’s agency and our finite agencies as necessary to a correct view of God because God is “infinite.” I find this more philosophical than biblical and I think it creates great problems for theodicy. But, of course, Hart might just say that the solution to theodicy is ultimate reconciliation (including, I assume, because he’s Eastern Orthodox, ultimate theosis). But what of “in the meantime?” What of all the evil and innocent suffering that goes on in the world now? I don’t think Hart gets God “off the hook,” so to speak, simply by deferring the justice of God to some future and ultimate salvation of all. He criticizes belief in free will as power of contrary choice in much the same way as Jonathan Edwards (O, the irony of it!). It is, allegedly, illogical. I admit it is mysterious, but I do not think it is illogical.

I have to conclude that Hart’s view of free will is compatibilist and that is, for me, anathema. It only raises the problem of theodicy to a fever pitch.

But enough. You need to read the book and wrestle with it and decide what you think. But put on your armor and be prepared to feel insulted—insofar as you do not agree whole heartedly with Hart!

*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).

I Interrupt This Series with a Sidebar about “Folk Religion”

Actually, it’s not so much an interruption as a long footnote to my ongoing series about theology. Many have asked what I mean by “folk religion.”

I first learned the concept from sociologist and historian of religion Robert Ellwood, author of many books especially about American religions. I expand on his definition and description.

Some years ago I wrote a book entitled Answers to All Your Questions: The Journey from Folk Religion to Examined Faith (Zondervan). There I explain and illustrate folk religion especially as it manifests among American Christians.

So what do I mean by “folk religion” and why do I consider it bad?

Folk religion is religion that thrives on an anti-intellectual preference for comforting clichés such as “God always has a plan” without examining them for their truth content. Most such clichés have some truth and I explain that in my book. The problem is that they are in and of themselves insufficient to deliver the whole truth (that can be delivered and needs to be delivered).

Folk religion may be “found” on bumper stickers, walls (e.g., wood “plaques” with cute sayings on them), in songs, stories, “evangelegends,” sermons, conversations. Folk religion resists any critical examination of such clichés or the beliefs they express.

*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.*

When I was growing up in church we sometimes heard a song sung: “If I Am Dreaming, Let Me Dream On” by evangelist Gypsy Smith. The gist of the song is that if Christianity is just a “dream” (as Smith was told by a skeptic), it’s a good one and the person enjoying the song would rather “dream” than know truth.

The key thing is resistance to critical examination even from sound biblical exegesis and hermeneutics. Even concepts like “biblical exegesis” and “hermeneutics” are despised by folk religionists.

Folk religion thrives on traditions handed down and passed around that have little or nothing to do with the Great Tradition of Christian thought. And folk religion reacts very negatively when someone challenges the cherished tradition of belief—even on the basis of known facts.

Some years ago an evangelegend was going around among American evangelical Christians that Russian scientists had drilled the deepest hole into the earth ever and had found hell. They could hear the screams of the burning souls and feel the heat coming up—not from the earth’s core but from hell “down there.” I tried to tell a few people who believed this story that it had been proven to be invented by skeptics who wanted to show how gullible Christians are. I was harshly shut down.

I could give dozens of examples. Another one has to do with the “Satanic panic” of the 1970s and 1980s. A particular man who claimed to have been a high priest of a Satanic temple wrote a popular book about it and about his conversion to Christianity. The whole story was debunked in Christianity Today. I attempted to tell the owner of a local Christian bookstore that the book was untrue and he should not be selling it. He virtually expelled me from his store. The first time I read the book I knew it wasn’t true. It had the “rink of untruth” about it.

An evangelist was speaking about a man who despised his ministry but turned around and contributed money to him. Several times he said “And as the Bible says, may his tribe increase!” Someone on the platform behind him finally stepped up and whispered in his ear. The evangelist said “I’m told that’s not in the Bible. Well, if it isn’t, it should be!” The crowd of the evangelists’ followers applauded.

Folk religion is fiercely anti-intellectual; it demeans the life of the mind, critical thinking, in favor of believing whatever sounds spiritual, gives comfort, feels good, or “has always been told.” Or it is so enamored with a particular spiritual writer or speaker that it gives him or her absolute authority to govern beliefs even if what is being said is absurd.

Need I go on? Anyone who has deep and direct acquaintance with large segments of American Christianity has to recognize what I am talking about.

Another anecdote. I know a man who told me not only that “There is no salvation without the King James Bible” but also that Catholics cannot be Christians because they “worship food.”

Yet another. I heard a well-known evangelist say to an audience “If it’s new, it can’t be true; if it’s true, it can’t be new” and “Before we can get the people out of the slums we have to get the slums out of the people.” His audience ate it up. I read this evangelist’s books and found that he was uneducated and ill-informed about the subjects about which he wrote. And yet, I personally knew people who considered every word that dropped from his pen or mouth true beyond doubt.

For my folk religion acquaintances, the sole fact that I attended seminary was enough to shun me as subchristian at best.

One day, while in seminary, I was sitting at a table in the dining hall of a summer Christian church camp for youth. I was there as the youth pastor of a large group of teens. I was sitting with about ten other, mostly older, pastors during the campers’ recreation time. One of the pastors was spouting absolute nonsense, even bordering on heresy. What he was saying was closer to Gnosticism than to orthodox, biblical Christianity. I dared to kindly, humbly correct some of what he was saying. Immediately all of the pastors stood up and walked away from me.

Yes, that was partly because of my youth, but it was also evidence of folk religion—a typical kind of reaction of folk religion to any critical examination or correction even from the Bible itself.

Someone has asked me to define more clearly and exactly “folk religion.” Like the famous or infamous Supreme Court judge said about pornography “I can’t define it but I know it when I see it.” Once you know what folk religion is, you see and hear it all around in American Christianity. It is the default religion of most American Christians. And it gives Christianity a bad name; it gives skeptics and critics of Christianity the proverbial “rope.” It diminishes Christianity’s “voice” in the public square. It opens Christianity up to valid ridicule. 

*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 3

If you have not yet read parts 1 and 2 of this series, please do it now—before reading and especially before responding to this essay which is about the “Deism” in Moralistic, Therapeutic Deism (MTD).

Deism has many faces. Smith and Dean used it in a rather informal ways not directly related to intellectual-religious history. Here I will follow their lead—instead of using “deism” to designate a particular group of religious free thinkers of the (mostly) eighteenth century. The true prototypes of that type of religious thought we call deism were John Toland and Matthew Tindal. There were certainly others, but they are the two main free thinkers associated with the heyday of deism in the eighteenth century. Thomas Jefferson and others like him were greatly influenced by them.

Here, however, I am going to use “deism” in its more popular sense: the belief that, although God exists and is watching us (as says the popular song), God does not act in special ways in the world. That is, there is only one true miracle and that is creation itself.

Now, of course deism comes in many varieties and degrees. Not all deists are consistent. Some will admit a miracle such as the resurrection of Jesus but deny the truth of all other miracle stories. Others, especially Christian deists, will admit that we cannot know how many miracles God has done but generally relegate God to a being who watches us, judges and forgives us, but does not often, of at all, interfere or intervene in nature or history.

The MTD that I encounter on a regular basis includes a neglect of any active presence of God outside the “inner world” of the individual. And even the inner world of the individual is mostly closed off to sudden interventions or acts of God that are radically transformative.

*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.*

In other words, to put it in one way, contemporary American Christians, by and large, in general, many excepted, tend to think the stories in the Acts of the Apostles either didn’t happen as depicted or happened only then.

Varieties of deism are abundant in American popular culture. In one popular movie “God” goes on vacation and leaves a young man in charge. In a popular British television series a Catholic priest talks often about redemption and forgiveness but rarely, if ever, about miracles or the possibility of an intimate relationship with God. Then there is the popular saying “Prayer doesn’t change things [or God]; prayer changes me.”

In MTD God is viewed primarily as creator, moral governor, friend (or heavenly parent), and guarantee of ultimate meaning and purpose. But in MTD God is not expected ever to actually intervene or act in the physical world and even in the “inner world” of the individual God only acts with moral judgment (usually depicted as a frown) and forgiveness (usually depicted as a smile).

So what is the problem with deism in MTD—the American religion?

Anyone who reads the Acts of the Apostles and the rest of the New Testament (to say nothing of the Old Testament) cannot miss the emphasis on God’s involvement in the world. Deism is at best defective Christianity, powerless Christianity—except in the sense of God empowering people through giving them moral encouragement and impetus to act against, for example, injustice.

One way to “get a handle” on the deism of MTD is to compare American Christians’ attitudes toward miracles or any direct divine special action with those of Christians from Africa and Asia. I have taught numerous divinity students from those continents and they all have one thing in common—a belief that American Christianity is (mostly) missing any sense of the reality of an invisible spiritual world populated by angels and demons in which God acts supernaturally—especially in response to faithful, fervent prayer. Also, events Americans tend to shrug off as “coincidences” Christians from other continents—especially the Global South and Pacific Rim—tend to view as sometimes special acts of God to be discerned spiritually.

In MTD, for the most part, God is watching us from a distance and frowning or smiling—depending on how we are living our lives. But God is rarely thought of as the cause of anything other than the universe itself as a whole and our relief of the “burden of sin” which is the mostly false feeling of being inadequate if not condemned.

Now, some will think that the only alternative to deism is religious fanaticism—such as viewing God as a great heavenly vending machine into which we put our prayers and/or beliefs with the guarantee of some material blessing. Not at all. And an abundance of miracles is not the only alternative to deism. The proper alternative to deism is not just the belief in but the experience of God’s intimate involvement in life.

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