Yesterday I promised to post on the matter of giving offense vs. taking offense, something that was stirred or spurred by some condemnatory remarks to a good-natured joke aimed at Calvinists. The joke appeared on Kacy’s Semper Reformanda blog; you can read there (”10 Reasons Why I Am a Calvinist“) and be sure to read the caustic comments, too. (HT to David at Jollyblogger.)
But I did not post the second part of my response; this is to explain why. Not that any of you were likely greatly disappointed by my failure – or that anyone even notice – but for the purging of my own soul, I guess.
Here’s the problem. A week ago today I did something I have not done in a long time: I joined a men’s Bible study at church. I did it because a friend, who is leading the overall study, asked me to come. So I did, joining a small group in which I already had one friend and had heard very good things about the group facilitator. I was not disappointed: the group consists of seven or eight good, committed men who are eager to explore the subject matter, Rom 6-8. The men range in age from around 21 to near 60 (my old, grey-haired friend).
I have had a low profile since returning to this church after an absence of almost five years, so I don’t think anyone other than my friend had any idea who I am, where I came from, or what my background might be. Which is fine: I don’t think I need a press agent to prepare – or warn – others of my approach. I do, however, tend to speak up when I have an opinion and I do tend to offer a “dissenting” view of things. (Every church needs someone to fulfill this prophetic role, i.e., someone to cry out “Right!” if everyone is going Left, or “Left!” if everyone is going Right. Balance is a verb, not a noun, in my book.)
So everything went very well for the first 30-45 minutes. Good comments and observations were made that reflected careful study and serious interest. As I said before, these are good men.
But then a comment was made that surprised me but shouldn’t have. Someone started talking about our identity in Christ and our view of ourselves, saying that this is important for our sanctification. It surprised me because I am naive – which is embarrassing at any age, but especially mine; it shouldn’t have suprised me because our former pastor had spent years and years going through the Book of Romans and distorting it to support a couple of books he wrote.
In the books – Revolution Within and Releasing the Rivers Within – Dwight Edwards had ignored the forensic nature of Romans, misappropriated much of the New Covenant, and borrowed freely some phrases and ideas from a book by David Needham (Birthright: Christian Do You Know Who You Are?). The major premise of Edwards’ books is that the Christian is already in full possession of all the promises made in Romans and elsewhere and that the only thing that remains is to “release” the reality. We have, according to him, a new heart, a new purity, a new nature, a new everything-that-has-been-said. This is fine and biblical, but it stops being biblical when Edwards contends that we have all of it now in our possession.
In short, as I told him one time, Edwards believes that at the moment of salvation every Christian becomes fully mature and in full possession of all the promises; the believer is a fully grown adult. In contrast, I argued (with the support of Cranfield, Moo, and 2,000 years of orthodoxy), that we are born spiritual infants and grow into maturity and possession over time. We are becoming practically what God has declared us to be positionally, i.e., in His eyes. But we never have all of it in this lifetime, except forensically.
Or, to put it another way, I maintain that believers have been declared righteous while he teaches that we have been made righteous. Sorry, but God’s righteousness is His righteousness: it never becomes ours. We are righteous only because we are in Christ; all of Christian life exists in union with our Savior. There is nothing that is outside our union with Him.
Returning to last week, the comment came up reflecting Edwards false teaching. I began to argue against it but, sensing that I was attacking a sacred cow, I pulled back and reconsidered. And, to repeat myself, here’s the problem.
I have never walked away from a spiritual fight in my church. I don’t feel compelled to confront or correct error when I encounter it in other Christians (unless asked), but the purity of the local church of which I am a member has always been worth fighting for. But this time I didn’t. In an email to a good friend, I explained why:
If the sheep want to lap up that stuff, it’s not my place to try to stop them: they’re not my sheep, after all, and I’m not their shepherd. I’ve spent far too long running around as a self-appointed shepherd/prophet trying to protect people that didn’t want me to protect them, so I’m just going to let it go. I’ll do my own study on Romans (I was doing that anyway) and if anyone in the group wants to know something, I’ll offer what I think. But I’ll steer clear of the new covenant foolishness, since Dwight’s position is still the official party line on sanctification (in the eyes of the pew dwellers – and some of the elders).
(I should add that the new pastor – a good friend and a good man – does not agree with Edwards either and opposed it from the start. He’s got a bit of a mess to clean up.)
I have learned the lesson of backing off the hard way. For far too long I have tried to fight battles without sufficient or adequate authority to do so, exhausting myself in the process and accomplishing little other than to stir up a lot of dust. I was in charge of men’s ministry at one church but, because the senior pastor was not fully behind it (he was a Momma’s boy), little came of it. Finally, when I left the church, they hired an associate pastor to oversee it and it has gone well and done good – much better than it ever did when I was leading it. I don’t attribute that just to him being in a staff position: he has abilities and gifts that I do not.
There is something about having a union card – being ordained – that automatically grants a person authority and credibility, warranted or not. Despite the fact that I have a couple of seminary degrees, it doesn’t count for much without the “anointing” of the church. In fact, it makes one suspect in the eyes of many.
Of course, it doesn’t help that the former pastor disparaged seminary whenever the opportunity arose. This was likely because he wasn’t able to bear the scrutiny and rigor of seminary himself, but he left in his wake an anti-intellectual climate that discourages academic pursuits. This is quite ironic: this church exists primarily to reach the students at Texas A&M and its elder board has historically consisted of tenured professors or professional men with graduate degrees.
But I digress. The point of all of this is why I did not post as promised. It was because of all of the above, but especially my inward exploration to discover why I walked away from a fight. And then told someone else (the overseeing pastor) to fight it. This pastor is a good man but already overwhelmed by his work load. Besides that, I don’t know if he understands all the problems with the previous teaching or not.
Am I getting old? Or am I getting wise? Or do I not care anymore about the church? Those are the questions I struggled with over the past week, and I still don’t have an answer. Until I do, it will be difficult for me to think about or focus on much else. (I won’t even get into whether or not my time should be spent on my local church or blogging: both are ministry – to me – but which is the higher priority? I think I know the answer, but I just don’t like it.)
I will do the GO vs. TO post soon. I promise.
