Eternal Perspectives

20 Bless Yahweh, you His angels, mighty in strength, who perform His word, obeying the voice of His word!
21 Bless Yahweh, all you His hosts, you who serve Him, doing His will.
22 Bless Yahweh, all you works of His, in all places of His dominion; bless Yahweh, O my soul!” – Ps 103.20-22 (NASB – I have rendered LORD as “Yahweh,” since in each occurrence it refers to the personal name of God.)

Most evangelicals, it seems to me, give little thought or study to the ministry of one of the two created, living beings that God has produced: angels. David, in contrast, was clearly aware of them and understood their role and place in God’s work of and in creation. They are “mighty in strength,” he says, and are faithful to obey and perform His word, i.e., His commands and purposes in creation. Angels, being without sin and holy (or elect), exist only to serve God and to do his will: they take no thought for themselves nor pursue their own interests, if they have any. They, along with everything under God’s dominion, bless Yahweh in their perfect obedience to Him.

It is understandable – and perhaps even desirable to some extent – that evangelicals tend to neglect the ministry of angels in the world. First, the Bible does not emphasize or draw attention to angels, mentioning them typically in a passing, matter-of-fact way. This is, I think, quite intentional: our focus is to be upon the Lord GOD and not upon His servants and messengers.

At the time of the writing of the Bible (an undertaking that spanned roughly 1600 years), cultures adjacent to the people of God were involved in their own forms of worship. Some of these practices involved the worship of angels: this seems to be central to the Colossian heresy that prompted Paul to write to the church there and warn them about those who would “keep defrauding you of your prize by delighting in self-abasement and the worship of the angels” (Col 2.18). This particular cult appeared to have established a hierarchy of angels or demiurges through which one approached God; Christ Jesus, in their system, was the highest of the demiurges but had to first be approached through lesser beings. But even as the highest of demiurges or angels, Christ was not God.

It is for that reason that Paul states earlier in the letter that “in Him all the fullness of Deity dwells in bodily form, and in Him you have been made complete” (Col 2.9-10). In other words, it was unnecessary to focus on angels or demiurges in order to gain access to God: Jesus is God, and as Christians we have all that we need (i.e., are complete) to approach the throne of the Eternal One.

Second, when believers do focus on angels, they tend to focus more on the fallen or non-elect angels. Questions arise about whether or not believers can be possessed, controlled, or influenced by demons (as the New Testament calls fallen angels). Much energy and speculation is spent on exorcisms, although nowhere does the NT command that demons must be cast out of believers (even if one accepts the longer reading of Mk 16, it is not necessarily referring to believers being possessed). As Cook¹ notes, “Nowhere is the Christian commissioned to cast out demons” – he obviously does not accept the longer, debated conclusion of Mark’s history of the ministry of Christ.

The purpose of this post, therefore, is not to encourage Christians to spend an undue amount of time or energy focusing on the existence, presence, and ministry of elect angels; the purpose is to provide an introduction into this race of beings with whom we share a spiritual nature.

Others in the history of the Church have, in fact, stepped over the line. Justin Martyr (Second Century A.D.) believed that Christians would do well to worship angels: he apparently understood passages such as Col 2.18 in an unusual fashion. Aquinas seemed to be quite fascinated by angels; he stands in sharp contrast to such later theologians as Bultmann, Barth, and Tillich. Bultmann, with his demythologizing hermeneutic, eliminated such spiritual beings from God’s creation. Barth, more orthodox than Bultmann, saw the origin of angels as emanating from “nothingness, chaos, darkness.” Tillich, says Cook, believed angels to be “nothing more than ‘concrete-poetic symbols of the structures or powers of being. They are not beings . . . ‘” (emphasis mine).

Whether in Greek or in Hebrew, the word for angel refers to a being that is a messenger. It usually, but not always, refers to created spirit beings (whether elect or not). In the OT it at times refers to a theophany, i.e., the appearance of the Second Member of the Godhead in physical form (e.g., Gen 18). In addition to having the meaning of one who bears a message, however, the words for angels have the additional notion of describing a being who serves – Someone or someone.

That angels are created beings and not eternal is evident from passages such as Jn 1 and Col 1:

All things came into being through Him, and apart from Him nothing came into being that has come into being.” – Jn 1.3 (”Him” being Christ)

“For by Him all things were created, both in the heavens and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things have been created through Him and for Him.” – Col 1.16 ( “Him” again being a reference to Jesus Christ)

As created beings, then, the angels – holy or fallen – are subject and accountable to God, even as all people – saved or unsaved – are under the authority of God. As to when they were created, Scripture is not clear. Job 38.4-7 indicates that they came into existence prior to the formation of the physical world; further, it is likely – but not definite – that they were all created at the same time.

As spiritual beings, they do not normally possess physical bodies – although they can take on human form if necessary. They do not reproduce (hence, their number is fixed) and do not die: they will continue into eternity and will even be judged by believers. They have great knowledge but are not all-knowing (a characteristic of God alone); similarly, they have great power but are not omnipotent (also only true of God).

It is important to correct a common misunderstanding about angels, a misconception found among unbelievers and believers alike. Angels are not the spirits of dead or glorified people (cf. Heb 12.22-23, where angels are distinct from the “spirits of righteous men made perfect”). As Cook says, angels

are above the sphere of men (Ps 8.4-5, cf. Heb 2.7) in the sense that they are pure spirit and thus of a different created order; they rejoice over the salvation of men (Lk 15.10); and they will be judged by the saints (1 Cor 6.3) all of which distinguish them from human kind (emphasis mine).

What else may we know about elect, unfallen angels? First, as has been mentioned above, they are holy and separated to God and from sin in order to serve Him. Second, unfallen angels were chosen by God to remain in their original state and, third, they are not redeemed or, if fallen, redeemable. Their abode is in heaven, but it may be the “second heaven” – the first being the physical realm of space and the third the dwelling place of the throne of God.

Much is known about the ministry of angels. Following is a brief but fairly comprehensive list of their activities as compiled by Cook:

a) They minister to the elect, even before salvation (Heb 1.14, although ’salvation’ here could refer to final salvation and thus this would be a statement regarding the ‘guardian angel’ concept).

b) They minister in relation to the church . . .

c) They minister in relation to Israel. According to Dan 12.1, Michael the archangel, ‘who stands guard over the sons of [Daniel's] people,’ has a special concern for Israel . . .

d) They care for children . . .

e) They have special interest in the people of God . . . Among other things they protect and deliver (Gen 19.10-11; 1 Kings 19.5; Dan 3.28; 6.2; Ac 5.19; 12.7-11; cf. 2 Kings 6.1-17) and inform, direct and encourage them (Mt 28.5-7; Ac 8.26; 27.23-24).

f) They had and will have an extensive ministry to Christ: at birth (Lk 2.13); following the temptation (Mt 4.11); at the ascension (Ac 1.10); at the rapture (1 Th 4.16); and at the second coming (Mt 25.31; 2 Th 1.7).

g) They have a ministry to the nations (Dan 10.10-11.1; 12.1). The precise nature of this work is difficult to ascertain but it may be an extension of the ‘guardian angel’ concept. (Eph 6.12 seems to give the negative – evil – side of this truth.)

h) They worship and serve God as He chooses (Ps 148.2; Mt 18.10; Lk 1.19, 26; Heb 1.6; Rev 5.11-12; cf. Ezek 28.14) and sometimes function as instruments of his judgment (Gen 19.12-13; 2 Sam 24.16; 2 Kings 19.35; Ezek 9.1; Mt 13.36-42; 49-50; Ac 12.23; Rev 7.2; 8.6-9.21; 16.4-17).

i) They function as agents of praise . . .

Some angels have been identified by name – Michael and Gabriel (the Angel of Yahweh would be Christ and thus not truly an angel) – or by rank, i.e., archangels (such as Michael), cherubim (perhaps defenders of God’s holiness) and seraphim (who praise God and prepare believers for service).

Finally, and a particular interest and delight for me, is Heb 13.2: “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it.” This reality absolutely is beyond my comprehension. There may have been times in my life – and yours, too – when I have been in the company of angels without knowing it. A purely spiritual being who has temporarily taken human form has perhaps talked and walked with me, eaten with me, shared a ride with me, or found shelter with me for an evening or two.

We live in a physical world that is but a shadow of spiritual realities. And, from time to time, the spiritual slips into the physical and spends time with us without us ever having a clue. This is not to say we should devote time to trying to “uncover” these angels – our devotion is to be to Christ alone – but it is to remind us of the true nature of the world in which we live and breathe and have our being.
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¹The material and inspiration for this post is drawn almost exclusively from the unpublished Systematic Theology of Robert Cook, Th.D., which he was kind enough to give to me many years ago. Although I never had the privilege of sitting under his instruction – he was for many years Professor of Systematic Theology at Western Seminary – I have benefited and profited immensely from his work.

Related Tags: angels, theology, evangelicals, Christian, doctrine

Carla Rolfe at Reflections of the Times asks a pair of interesting questions in her post The Impeccability of Christ before embarking on an important doctrine concerning the nature of the God-man, Jesus Christ. First I’ll answer the two questions, the second of which will turn to a discussion of the Incarnation. Carla asks,

Can you deny the impeccability of Christ, and still be a Christian?

Is believing the impeccability of Christ, a non-essential?”

Unless one is willing to relegate such people as E.F. Harrison and Charles Hodge to hell (since they both believed in peccability), then it would seem that the obvious answer to to Carla’s first question is “No”: belief in the impeccability of Christ is not necessary. Of course, the eternal state of any individual cannot be the basis for one’s theology: the teaching of Scripture is the final arbiter in any and all such discussions. But without adducing proof-texts to make my point, suffice it to say that nowhere in the New Testament is belief in the impeccability of Christ a necessary condition for salvation.

The second question, however, is far more interesting and less easily resolved, for in one sense the matter of Jesus’ peccability or impeccability is important and thus an essential truth; the implications, in fact, in one instance of peccability is determinative regarding our Christology, Soteriology, and Anthropology.

First, however, a definition of terms is required. The matter of peccability or impeccability has to do with whether Jesus was able not to sin or was not able to sin; in Latin, this is expressed as posse non peccare versus non posse peccare. The first states that though it existed as a possibility, Jesus was able not to sin; the second that He was not able to sin no matter what the temptation.

What often stirs the debate is the question of temptation: if Jesus was not able to sin, then His temptation was not legitimate and He is not truly a High Priest who can identify with our weakness since He has been through it Himself (Heb 4.15):

14 Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession.
15 For we do not have a high priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but One who has been tempted in all things as we are, yet without sin.
16 Therefore let us draw near with confidence to the throne of grace, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” – Heb 4.14-16 (NASB, emphasis mine)

Many, if not most, of the arguments supporting impeccability argue from analogy at this point. For example, it has been said that, simply because a single ant cannot crush a tank, that does not mean that it is impossible for the ant to attack and make the attempt. The reasoning, therefore, is that just because it was impossible for Jesus to sin does not mean that temptations could not have been put before Him.

The problem with such reasoning, apart from it being an argument from analogy, is that it views the attack from the vantage point of the attacker. The ant (or Satan) may indeed attack the tank (or Jesus) and have the experience of having attacked. But it says nothing about the experience of the tank (Jesus). Does the tank “feel” attacked if it knows it cannot be crushed? Hardly. Neither would Jesus, knowing that it were impossible for Him to sin, truly be tempted or experience temptation by whatever efforts Satan might make.

If Jesus were simply (!) able not to sin, then the temptations are real and He is a qualified High Priest. But the possibility of the second member of the Godhead being capable of sin raises all kinds of theological difficulties, not the least of which are in the nature of the Triunity of God. Peccability solves the problem of validating temptation but raises other issues even more troubling.

My question, in contrast to either of Carla’s, is this: Was Jesus peccable or impeccable during His incarnation, i.e., was He able not to sin or not able to sin? And my answer is, “Both.”

In a mystery not yet revealed to us, the blending of Jesus’ divine nature with His human nature resulted in a Person without sin. At the end of the day, this is the most critical and – I would argue – a truly non-negotiable point: Jesus did not sin, whether it was due to posse non peccare or non posse peccare. In order to be a perfect sacrifice for the sins of the world, it was required that Jesus be without sin. And sinless He was, as Heb 9.1-7 makes clear:

9.1 Now even the first covenant had regulations of divine worship and the earthly sanctuary.
2 For there was a tabernacle prepared, the outer one, in which were the lampstand and the table and the sacred bread; this is called the holy place.
3 Behind the second veil there was a tabernacle which is called the Holy of Holies,
4 having a golden altar of incense and the ark of the covenant covered on all sides with gold, in which was a golden jar holding the manna, and Aaron’s rod which budded, and the tables of the covenant;
5 and above it were the cherubim of glory overshadowing the mercy seat; but of these things we cannot now speak in detail.
6 Now when these things have been so prepared, the priests are continually entering the outer tabernacle performing the divine worship,
7 but into the second, only the high priest enters once a year, not without taking blood, which he offers for himself and for the sins of the people committed in ignorance.” – (NASB, emphasis mine)

It was necessary for the high priest under the old covenant to offer blood for the covering his own sins as well as the sins of the people. But Jesus did not take with Him into the divine Holy of Holies the blood of bulls or goats in order to atone for His sins as well as the sins of the people:

11 But when Christ appeared as a high priest of the good things to come, He entered through the greater and more perfect tabernacle, not made with hands, that is to say, not of this creation;
12 and not through the blood of goats and calves, but through His own blood, He entered the holy place once for all, having obtained eternal redemption.
13 For if the blood of goats and bulls and the ashes of a heifer sprinkling those who have been defiled sanctify for the cleansing of the flesh,
14 how much more will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered Himself without blemish to God, cleanse your conscience from dead works to serve the living God?” – Heb 9.11-14 (emphases mine)

Jesus was sinless and thus His blood was efficacious for the atoning for the sins of the world (however you wish to define “world”). The issue of peccability vs. impeccability does not enter into this discussion: the important fact is that Jesus the Christ was pure and undefiled, totally without stain or blemish, lacking even the scent or rumor of sin in Him. He was – and remains – sinless.

But how, as I have stated above, can the answer to the peccability/impeccability discussion be, “Both”? My belief is this:

1. As God, as an eternal member of the Godhead, it is impossible that the Son of God could sin. With regard to His divine Spirit, He was non posse peccare: not able to sin.

2. As a human, albeit a perfect human and without a sin nature, it was possible for Him to sin. That is, with regard to His human spirit, He was posse non peccare: able not to sin.

The second statement makes sense of Jesus being a perfect High Priest in that He genuinely experienced, through His human spirit, temptation. Thus, when He prayed in the garden that another way be taken if at all possible, He was wrestling with a real possibility: to obey the will of God or not to obey it. Of course, His response was to submit Himself to God.

How was Jesus able not to sin? By living the totality of His life in complete dependence upon the Holy Spirit who indwelt and empowered Him. This is also what makes Him an example for us to follow: we, just like Him before us, have the choice of yielding to the Holy Spirit and following God or resisting and sinning. Jesus chose at every point to yield and not to sin. In His human nature, He lived in complete submission to the will of the Father through reliance upon the Holy Spirit.

Could Jesus, though, lacking a sin nature – for He did not have a sin nature as do we – have been able to sin? Well, did Adam possess a sin nature prior to the Fall? No, and yet he was able to choose to do the evil rather than the good: Adam chose to submit and yield to the external temptation and sin – present in the already-fallen Satan. Even in His sinless, human nature Jesus could have chosen to sin but His total reliance on the Holy Spirit – to do only the things He sees His Father doing and to say only that which the Father says – made it possible for Him not to sin.

Although I have spent the bulk of this discussion on peccability, the case for impeccability is no less strong or important. It is simply easier, I think, for us to comprehend the impeccability of God than it is get our minds around peccability. But both are true and both are equally important.

Jesus was not able to sin because He was and is God; Jesus was able not to sin because He only lived and functioned through the power of the Holy Spirit (this is very similar to John’s argument in his first epistle, i.e., that no one living in the power of the Holy Spirit can sin).

To summarize, then:

1. Belief in the impeccability of Christ is not a necessary condition for salvation.
2. Belief in the sinlessness of Christ is an essential doctrine.
3. Belief in the peccability and impeccability of Jesus can both be affirmed although not logically reconciled: it is a mystery (1 Tim 3.16).

I found a series of exchanges at Carla’s to be interesting and, perhaps, to add some thoughts to what I have already written. Here are some of the comments (mine are in italics), but go to Carla’s for the entire post and all comments.
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‘David says:
“Jesus could not sin because he was God.”

‘I couldnt agree more.This is NOT about what Christ did NOT have but what He DOES have as far as attributes.What I would really like to see is someone explain the “fact” of peccability co-existing with the FACT of the hypostaic union.

‘As far as Adam……Adam did not have the advantage of having the nature of God as did Christ. This is a comparrison that is not apples to aples.Adam was w/o sin before the fall as was Christ but Christ was God as well as man.

‘Now when we get done with the hypostaic union, we can deal with another positive aspect that makes the impeccability of Christ not only a possibility but a necessity.
GB
BB

‘P.S. I do NOT agree that one can be a “Christian Theoligian” and deny impeccability. Neither Christian NOR Theologian.’
Anonymous | 01.23.06 – 6:08 pm |
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‘Some of your commenters – especially the anonymous ones, I guess – would do well to realize that just because you say something forcefully does not make it true. And, while it is true that this topic has a bearing on the hypostatic union and the kenosis, it is not as simple as we might like it to be.

‘In short, it isn’t as simple as it seems and godly men and women are to be found in both camps.’
Mike | Homepage | 01.23.06 – 6:54 pm | #
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‘Mike
You will never convince me of anything by quoting presbyterian “theologians”. I’m a Baptist and have no use for such non-sense.
BB’
Anonymous | 01.23.06 – 7:13 pm | #
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‘Mike
What part of immutability do you not understand?
BB’
Anonymous | 01.23.06 – 7:15 pm | #
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Anonymous:

‘In fact, I would encourage Carla not to allow anonymous commenters: it breeds irresponsibility and encourages unsubstantiated cheap shots, especially among the unstable.’
Mike | Homepage | 01.23.06 – 8:09 pm | #
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‘To say that Christ was peccable is to say that He is mutable which is to say that He is not God and no Christian can make that claim.To say that Christ could have sinned, no matter what the cause, is to say, not only that He is mutable but can become less than Holy, which is to say that He is not God which no Christian can claim.

‘To say that Christ could have sinned (is peccable) is to deny the unity of His person, which is to say that, His Deity could be in conflict with His humanity, which also is to attribute mutability (ability to change) to Him, which again says that He is not God.
Deity necessitates impeccability.Christ as a person necessitates unity in His person.
Michael W. Ray
A.K.A. BB’
Anonymous | 01.23.06 – 8:10 pm | #
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‘Mike

‘I have always exercised not only decency towards, but reverence for Christ, when discussing His person.Im not much into philosophy.
Michael W. Ray
A.K.A. BB’
Anonymous | 01.23.06 – 8:12 pm | #
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‘Michael:

Related Tags: Jesus, Christology, hypostatic union, peccability, impeccability

William Meisheid (WM) at Beyond the Rim has me reclining on his couch once again with his insightful question/comment,

Mike, would say that your mother’s death [several months ago as of this writing] threw you back into ‘Moratorium’?”

He has his own thoughts on spiritual formation in a post, Your Christian Identity, at his site. I would encourage you to read it before going any further in my post (although, if you’re like me, you won’t do that) because I’m going to interact with some of his thoughts as expressed there.

At the moment, however, let me provide the remainder of WM’s comment to my original post before responding, elaborating, and interacting with his comment and post.

In investigating this further it would be interesting to know if secondary moratoriums (subsequent periods of questioning) are different in character from the first and primary moratorium (the initial period of questioning) or just in degree.

“I have an intuitive sense that the first moratorium is the most dangerous while the subsequent ones have a bit of a safety net of the former settled identity. If you will, there is a bias toward the foundations of your accepted identity, so that Schaefer was not at the same risk as a teenage Baptist going through their first grasp at identity. In addition, there [are] the many touchstones the Holy Spirit has placed in our life that give us something to hold onto when the winds on the mount of exploration and question get too blustery.”

To begin, I’ll answer WM’s initial question, i.e., did my mother’s death in October result in another moratorium for me? The short answer is no, it did not, for reasons that will become apparent later.¹ Actually, if anything had been able to hurl me back into moratorium, it would have been the realizations as reflected in my post of Aug 19 of last year, Losing My Way. But, in my view, even that horrific, gracious congealment of slowly developing thoughts² did not lead to a regression into moratorium.

WM also asks, albeit indirectly, if “secondary moratoriums (subsequent periods of questioning) are different in character from the first and primary moratorium (the initial period of questioning) or just in degree.” I would rephrase the implied question to, “Are there differences between the initial moratorium, subsequent moratoriums, and the final, immutable move to identity achievement?”

Before expounding on my own question, I need to quote from WM’s post (since you probably didn’t read it when I told you to!):

An interesting analogy I once toyed with was looking at a Christian’s life like a remodeling project. God doesn’t come in with a bulldozer and just scrape the ground clean. He knocks at our door, comes in when invited (Revelation 3:20) and sits down with us, taking up residence. Then like a skillful remodeler He begins working with us to redo our abode, who we are, all the while never destroying what it was that made us us the unique person we are. However, remodeling requires demolition, tearing down some of the who/what we defined ourselves as being and often this is related to our acceptance of how others defined us and established us in who we were. When the construction begins on the replacement portion, it makes that part of us truly our own, built with our own hands, by our own decisions, albeit through the grace and sovereignty of God. (I guess this is where I expose my tendency to lean, at least a little bit, towards a more eastern co-operative view of God’s sovereignty).

“From my viewpoint this remodeling goes on until the end of our days here on this earth. Many people only do some minor painting and wallpapering. Others tear out a wall or two or redo a room. Some gut the kitchen or bath and do a major overhaul. A few go all the way and systematically over the course of their life rebuild the whole structure, even to the point of tearing out some of the early efforts now that they have gotten better at seeing what needs to be done.”

The analogy of a house is a good one, having been used before (if I’m not mistaken) by our Lord. WM is discussing the process of sanctification, not salvation (hence his referral to Rev 3.20), in his illustration, but I would go back a bit further.

Allow me to begin by answering the last part of my own question posed above concerning “the final, immutable move to identity achievement.” There is but one enduring, permanent move from moratorium to identity achievement, and that is the moment when a person irresistably chooses to accept his or her election and expresses saving faith in the substitutionary, atoning work of Jesus Christ. That, as Christ says, is the equivalent of

a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and slammed against that house; and yet it did not fall, for it had been founded on the rock.” – Mt 7.24-25

Prior to commitment to Christ, there can be any number of moratoriums for people whether due to necessity or other reasons. This is reflected in other observations of Christ at the conclusion of His sermon on the mount:

Everyone who hears these words of Mine and does not act on them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. The rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and slammed against that house; and it fell — and great was its fall.” – 7.26-27

If a house (one’s sense of identity) is built on sand, it can be destroyed by life or demolished willingly by the owner of the house. Each time involves a move back to moratorium to re-evaluate and then reconstruct one’s fragile sense of self.

Not so, of course, with the believer who has built upon the True Foundation, which is Christ (1 Cor 3.11). That foundation is immovable and indestructible: nothing can undo the foundation which has been laid through faith in Jesus as the Christ. If it is not obvious by now, then let me state clearly that I believe in the eternal security of the believer, based on the powerful preservation and promise of the Savior. Once that foundation is in place, there are no subsequent true moratoriums.

But that is not to say that there are not periods of doubt, searching, and struggling. Once again, the Bible provides the explanation of and the answer for such periods of time. As WM notes, God is at work in us – with our cooperation – to conform us to the image of Jesus Christ so that we may approach (but never attain in this lifetime) practically what He has already declared us to be forensically: perfect and complete, lacking in nothing (Jas 1.4), a bride “having no spot or wrinkle or any such thing; but that she would be holy and blameless” (Eph 5.27).

Our problems arise not due to the foundation which is Jesus Christ, but due to our own misunderstanding, immaturity, and inability to build upon that foundation with the foundational teachings of the apostles and prophets (Eph 2.20) as recorded in Scripture. Due to the sinful world in which we live and the sin nature which wrestles with the Spirit who is in us, we create structures upon the foundation of Christ that are not always – or ever – wholly desirable.

What happened to me over the course of the last five months was not a regression into moratorium but a visit from my indwelling Housing Inspector – the Holy Spirit – who spilled His light onto my superstructure, revealing something that was terribly out-of-line with not only His blueprint for me but the one to which I had committed myself over 31 years ago. The house did not fall – the foundation would not allow it – but I was suddenly face-to-face with my careless construction. The house could not serve the purpose for which it had been designed because I had deviated from the blueprint.

To say I had deviated does not mean that I was unfamiliar with the blueprint but that I failed to apply that which I knew about the plans to the actual construction of my life. I had built walls in unnecessary places and failed to build walls where they were critical. The exterior decoration and appearance of the house that I am was, for many years, acceptable to and approved by me and those around me; the illuminating inspection, however, brought to light my structure as being garish, indulgent, fat, lazy, and ugly. Horrific as it was to see what I had built – both inside and out, regardless of the world/church said – it was the love and grace of God that opened my eyes. Now I will seek to be content with “a dry morsel and quietness with it” instead of clinging to “a house full of feasting with strife” (Pr 17.1).

All of this is to say that, while it may feel like another period of moratorium, such is not possible for the true believer in Jesus Christ. Painful illuminations are possible and even desirable, but to abandon the foundation itself – our achieved and settled identity in Jesus Christ – is beyond the ability of the believer.

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¹ At the time, my mother’s death was more a relief than anything: she had been slowing dying for over two years, subject to many strokes and unknown numbers of TIA’s. The week spent in Indiana following her death – which included a lot of time with my wife and two daughters – was a much needed respite from my “dark night of the soul,” i.e., my indulgence in narcissistic self-flagellation and relentless introspection.

²My “collapse” emerged (submerged?) on Aug 19; three days before I sank I wrote, of my difficulty in writing at that time, “I do know that something is rumbling deep down but it defies articulation right now.” It didn’t take long to make itself known.

There is a theory of psychological development, attributed to Diana Baumrind, that traces the formation of a sense of identity from early childhood to adulthood. There are four stages: identity diffused, foreclosure, moratorium, and identity achieved.

At the risk of calling down the wrath of the pit bulls roaming the cyber alleys of Godblogs, I am going to apply this theory to spiritual development. I find it immensely helpful in my practice – especially with those believers in their late teens or early twenties – and also believe that it is a process all Christians should go through during sanctification. By applying this theory, I am in no way arguing that this is all that is involved or necessary for spiritual growth and maturity. I am only describing what I believe to be the progression of sanctification.

Identity Diffused

In Baumrind’s model, this is a period when the child has no sense of self or concern with identity. It is a non-reflective time, a joyful time, when the opinions of self or others do not even occur to the toddler or pre-schooler. It is, I suppose (since none of us really remember anything before the age of six or seven¹) a time of existential bliss: the child simply is. They play, cry, eat, and sleep without any worry about what that says about them as a person. They simply have no sense of identity. There is no exploration of one’s beliefs and values; thus, there is no commitment possible.

Is there a period in the spiritual life of the Christian that corresponds to such a stage? I believe there is such a time for believers, whether they have trusted Christ as Savior when they were four or forty-four. Most of us, even becoming Christians as adults, have at least a brief period of time when we are so enthralled or enraptured with the joy of our salvation that we do not stop to think about ourselves, not in the eyes of others or our own. It is a heady time, a wonderful time, a period most of us would love to recapture and dwell in continuously. It is being present at the Mount of Transfiguration or being in the presence of the Resurrected Christ. There is no thought of self: we are simply too overwhelmed with the reality of God and the impact of what has just transpired in our lives as we have moved from the kingdom of darkness to the Kingdom of Light.

Like the toddler, we have not yet evaluated or explored our experience, nor have we consciously committed ourselves to it.² A commitment to Christ as Savior has been made, of course, but the rush and subsequent flush of being baptized by, filled with, and sealed by the Holy Spirit floods our minds and crowds out the cognitive, rational capacities.

This stage does not last, however, and I do not think God intends for it to continue in this lifetime. It may be a foretaste of what our heavenly existence will be like, but it is not a condition in which we can accomplish the work that God has given us to do in subduing the earth and exercising dominion over it. Ideally and typically, we move on to the next stage.

Foreclosure

Foreclosue is a period of commitment but not exploration or evaluation. In children, this is usually apparent in the adoption of their parents’ values and lifestyle. If mother and father are Republicans, then Junior is a Republican, too (although he has no idea what that means). If the girl’s parents are Baptists, then Missy is going to be the best Baptist in the Sunday School program. The commitment is often strong but lacks personal evaluation and apprehension.

This is also observed in the lives of most (if not all) Christians. We typically become a part of that group which was instrumental in leading us to salvation. If Catholic, then we become committed Catholics; if Charismatic, then we are Charismatic; if Reformed, Reformed it will be for us. Like the child, there is a strong commitment to the values, beliefs, practices, and doctrines of the group of which we are a part. The local church is our spiritual family and we, as young and immature believers, make a commitment to whatever spiritual tradition in which we find ourselves.

This stage, too, is meant to be but temporary: God does not seek followers who possess only a hand-me-down faith. Exploration and evaluation are vital and essential in spiritual growth; hence, the next stage of

Moratorium

The choice of Baumrind’s terms dates the study: moratoriums were common in the ’60s and ’70s, and the word “moratorium” was very much in vogue. It meant and still means a suspension of commitment. According to one dictionary, moratorium may be defined or described as

An authorized period of delay in the performance of an obligation; a suspension of an ongoing or planned activity”

This stage is typically and normally found in teenagers, but especially during the late teens when the brain is undergoing the last of its profound re-configurations. Exploration and evaluation of parental values, beliefs, and lifestyle are scrutinized. Commitment is withdrawn. Parents feel as though the child is rebelling and may wonder what went wrong. In the process of identity formation, however, this is a mandatory stage. It is also at least as painful and frightening for the young person as it is for the parents: goals, friends, values, beliefs, faith – indeed, almost all of the foundations that once seemed so solid are now questioned. It is a time of crisis.

Spiritually, this is a most desirable development, as well. The faith of our fathers is examined closely and questioned deeply. It may be picked apart and found lacking in some significant areas. Doctrines that were previously – during foreclosure – not doubted or questioned at all are now subjected to intense study. “I’m not sure what I believe” is a common comment for Christians at this stage of spiritual development.

Happily, this is also a temporary stop on the journey to spiritual formation and maturity. The next step is the final one in the process.

Identity Achieved

Having evaluated, explored, and examined a wide variety of beliefs – but especially one’s own previously unquestioned values – the young adult commits to a particular set of individualized beliefs, values, and lifestyle. A crisis has occurred – and may periodically resurface, although with far less intensity – but a commitment has been made.

Ironically, the identity which is achieved is often very similar to that of one’s parents – but with a critical difference: the beliefs, values, and lifestyle are now owned by the young person and are not merely adopted unquestioned as was the case in Foreclosure.

Spiritually, this is what I believe to be God’s desired condition for all of us. We believe not because it is what we were told to believe, but because we have studied and tested our faith. We know it to be true and, though everyone else might turn away – including parents, pastors, professors, and/or any other influential person in our lives – our faith remains. It is now internally based and rooted, no longer dependent on what others might think or say or themselves believe. The questioning and exploration of Moratorium may – and hopefully will – continue, but there is a commitment to Christ that cannot be shaken. Specific, nonessential beliefs may be adjusted but the core, foundational beliefs are immovable. Identity – spiritual identity – has been achieved and is now the personal property of the individual believer.

An Illustration

There are, I believe, illustrations of some of the stages in the New Testament. One of my favorites is found in the events surrounding the conversation Jesus has with the woman at the well. According to the evangelist,

So the woman left her waterpot, and went into the city and said to the men, ‘Come, see a man who told me all the things that I have done; this is not the Christ, is it?’ They went out of the city, and were coming to Him.” – Jn 4.28-30 (NASB)

The woman, judging from her earlier interactions with Christ, was perhaps Foreclosed on the beliefs of the Samaritans. The Savior’s words, however, appeared to have moved her into a state of Moratorium: “this is not the Christ, is it?”

More interesting is the experience of the people of the city that come to see Jesus. They spend time with Him, listen to Him and, undoubtedly being moved by the Holy Spirit working through Him, are changed. Note carefully what is said by one of the men:

So when the Samaritans came to Jesus, they were asking Him to stay with them; and He stayed there two days. Many more believed because of His word;
and they were saying to the woman, “It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves and know that this One is indeed the Savior of the world.” – (emphases obviously added)

This is as clear an example of moving from a state of Foreclosure (”because of what you said”) through Moratorium (having listened to Him for two days) to Identity Achieved (”for we have heard for ourselves and know that this One is indeed the Savior of the world”). First there is a commitment to a set of beliefs aparrently without examination or exploration,³ then a suspension of commitment while listening to Him, and finally a commitment to Him based on evaluation and conviction regarding the truth of His claims. It is a remarkable distillation – or microcosm – of the process of belief that occurs in all of us.

But . . .

Due to the presence of sin in the world and in each of us, the process does not always go as intended. There are three main dangers that occur during the period of Moratorium that I want to address.

First, there is the danger of moving out of Moratorium back into Foreclosure. It is understandable why this might occur at times but nevertheless results in stunted spiritual growth and aborted maturity. The time of Moratorium is a very threatening time, both for the individual and for those around them. When someone begins questioning the basic underpinnings of the faith, it can cause no small amount of consternation for and anger in others. Most of us do not like unanswered questions or questions for which we have not yet discovered answers. If our temperament is such that loose ends cause us to become frayed around the edges ourselves, we will be especially quick to condemn those who question or propose other ways of viewing things.

We may be tempted and choose to run from the “valley of the shadow of doubt” and return to the safe haven of an unexamined, rigidly defended faith. “My tradition, right or wrong, my tradition” is our battle cray. Our Christian lives are then spent listening to and reading only those who agree with us, and those who think outside the box or color outside the lines are immediately suspect. An attack upon those who represent our belief system is perceived as a threat to the very truth of Christianity itself.

For example, after I had been a Christian for only a few years, I was firmly entrenched in my dispensational beliefs and theology. Criticisms of Ryrie, Walvoord, or others from Dallas Theological Seminary were felt as personal attacks, and I responded inordinately – not necessarily inappropriately – with far too much energy invested in the defense of the person and the beliefs they represented. If Ryrie, Walvoord, Chafer, et.al., were wrong, I feared, then I was wrong – and that was unacceptable because it would shatter my borrowed foundations.

To personalize my experience for yourself, simply insert the name(s) of your own spiritual gurus, whether it be Calvin, Colson, Wesley, Luther, Zwingli, Darby, or Augustine. If you cannot accept or allow criticism of your pet spiritual guru, then you have likely drifted – or run – back to the safety and security of hand-me-down beliefs.

A second danger of Moratorium is committing to the wrong thing. As the sermon illustration explains, a crisis is a time of both danger and opportunity. Some have entered into Moratorium and then committed to atheism, agnosticism, or some heretical off-shoot of Christianity. Others have chosen to become Muslim, Hindu, or converts to some other false belief system. Friends and mature believers who are not threatened by the questions being asked are essential during this time to help keep the individual in bounds.

Mormons, who seem to gain a lot of converts from the children of Baptists, prey upon this time of Moratorium, indoctrinating these young people filled with questions and doubts with the false teachings and hallucinations of Joseph Smith, Brigham Young, and others.

Often the only innoculation necessary to protect young people from winding up in the wrong place is a simple explanation of the process. I sometimes tell such young people, “I know you feel lost, but I know where you are. You’re exactly where you need to be and I’ll walk through this with you.” Of course, I’m going to do some simple apologetics while walking with them, but I’m going to allow them to question even the most basic principles – Is there a God? Was there really a resurrection? – without giving up on them or telling them that it is wrong to ask such questions.

The third and final danger of Moratorium that I will address is that of getting stuck in Moratorium. Anyone who has seen an old hippie has seen someone stuck in Moratorium. There is no commitment to self or life, it seems, only a constant and continual seeking and exploration of the foundations. This is a frequent condition of some street people and many college professors.

Spiritually, these people are those who remain on the fringes of faith, people who are “always learning and never able to come to the knowledge of the truth” (2 tim 3.7). This may also be the condition of many who embrace the postmodern position that truth cannot be known and, thus, cannot be something to which one may commit. Such Moratoriumist (if I may coin a term) are elusive and impossible to pin down: their positions change with the wind since they are truly committed to none of them. It is a state of continual doubt and questioning. One could say that they never actually emerge from this condition.

A Final Illustration

The experience of Francis Schaeffer exemplifies the process of spiritual identity formation. (I’m about to recall this strictly from memory, so forgive me if I leave certain things out or get other things wrong.)

Schaeffer was a pastor (in St. Louis?), fully committed to the Reformed tradition, when one day he came home and announced to his wife, Edith, that he wasn’t sure he believed any of it any longer. He explained that he had to go back to the very beginning – the existence of God – and work through it all again. Moving to Switzerland, he spent months roaming in the mountains, wrestling with philosophy and the Bible, trying to plumb the depths of what could be known and discovered about existence and God.

As we know, he emerged with basically the same beliefs he had previously. But he was a changed man: along with Edith, he began opening his home to spiritual doubters and nonbelievers who were seeking to discuss spiritual matters. L’Abri was the result and it was there that many questions were allowed, answered, and allowed to have no answers. He became one of the most influential and important figures in Christianity in the last century.

It is clear to see the progression in Schaeffer’s life: Foreclosure while in the pulpit in the States, Moratorium as he withdrew his commitment and questioned everything, and Identity Achieved when he committed himself to that of which he was now personally and internally convinced.

Diffused-Foreclosed-Moratorium-Identity. These are the stages of spiritual development. It would do us all well to ask where we are in this process and what, if necessary, it will take for us to move to the next step in achieving maturity in Christ Jesus.

_______

¹ This is due to development in the brain involving the corpus callosum, a network which allows communication between the two hemispheres. If you want to know more about it, leave me a comment and I’ll try to find the books I pulled the information out of. It’s been awhile.

²There is frequently a conscious awareness of commitment to Jesus Christ as Savior. This experience, however, refers to the time immediately following the moment of regeneration.

³ OK, so I’m eisogeting here. It is possible that these Samartians had achieved identity but, hearing about the Christ from the woman, were thrown back into Moratorium.

Related Tags: spirituality, sanctification, maturity, identity

This post is about Phil Johnson’s writings on his blog, Pyromaniac. Let me make that clear right up front so no paranoid or narcissistic types will comment or post asking, “Is it me? Is it me?” Sorry, not this time.

What I purpose to do in this post is to look at one of his more recent (most recent, as of this moment) posts and analyze it just a bit. I don’t do this to be unkind – it’s easy to tear apart something – but to try to discern what he is saying and not saying. I must quickly add, however, that there seems to have been a significant shift in the tenor of Phil’s posts for the last couple of months or so: I find him much more reasonable and less aggressive than previously. Perhaps this is due to his becoming more comfortable with blogging, finding his stride, and allowing more of himself to be reflected in his posts. I honestly have no idea, about which I’ll say more later.

By way of introduction, this whole thing started after Phil wrote a post about people who flirt with or consumate taking God’s Name in vain (def., attaching God’s Name, and therefore His Personhood and reputation, to something with which He is not involved or connected). I was very much looking forward to the series because I agree with him on this issue: when people say, “God told me (fill in the blank),” I cringe. I have heard, in my consulting office, those three words followed by “. . . to divorce my wife/husband,” “. . . that it’s OK for me to marry this unbeliever,” and “watching porn is OK as long as I don’t directly lust after the women.” Trust me, I was ready to read what Phil had to write. He called it “a serious problem among charismatics and non-charismatics alike,” to which I say, Amen!

But the important point here is this: Phil didn’t start this fight and tried very hard to avoid it.

But, as is sometimes the case, the jihadist mob hijacked Phil’s post and turned it into an argument over cessationism (regarding the so-called charismatic gifts¹) and non-cessationism. And, as we sang in the ’70s, “it only takes a spark to get a fire going” – and soon all those around get scorched as it keeps growing.

Today, rather than begin the cessationism study, Phil takes a shot at Dan and a few others for objecting to the rancor that usually characterizes such debates – which is very perplexing since Phil ends by saying he’d like to discuss the matter without rancor. I don’t see the need for taking a shot at someone with whom you agree, although it does demonstrate what I feared would happen as stated in my previous post: here’s what I wrote, followed by how Phil starts today’s post at Pyro:

(EP:) If this seems like a rant against Reformed bloggers, it’s not meant to be; it’s intended to be a mirror for those few who make the Reformed position look bad. Of course, they’ll never consider the possibility that a non-Reformed person – who is automatically suspect because I will not chant the TULIP mantra – might be right. They’ll just blast away or ignore it.”

(PM:) I’m about to conclude that it’s practically impossible to have an open, candid, rational conversation about cessationism and invite charismatics to participate without finding yourself at the bottom of an angry dogpile of “Spirit-filled” critics, no matter how charitably you try to approach the subject.

Now, in retrospect, I could have made my own point less sarcastically or sardonically. I apologize for that, really. But I still stand by the truth of the statement, and Phil’s post today seems to bear out my unhappy prediction: Phil chooses to attack the messenger (though I be but a fruitfly fluttering around a rhino). Phil continues:

By the way, Dan’s plea was quickly echoed in similarly histrionic tones across the blogosphere, mostly by other non-cessationists who (having taunted me with questions and challenges) now apparently want to see the cessation of any and all debate over this particular issue. And, predictably, there were also some who couldn’t resist using Dan’s post as a club with which to beat “Reformed Theology.”

I am the anonymous “some” to whom Phil refers. What he chooses not to include from the post to which he refers is this:

I don’t think the obnoxious – or just plain noxious – behavior has anything to do with Reformed doctrine; I do think that Reformed doctrine tends to attract angry, rigid, and aggressive individuals who baptize their bad behavior in quotes from Calvin.”

Phil turns it into an attack on Reformed Theology, perhaps in order to avoid the mirror. It is possible that he gave thought to what I had said about holding up a mirror, but there is no evidence of it in his post today. Or maybe he didn’t actually read my post but was told about it from someone else who selectively misrepresented my position. Either way, Phil needs to check his facts, at least in this instance.

I find it curious that Phil labels Dan’s writing as “histrionic,” given the opening paragraph of his own post. Well, I’m familiar with psychological labels, too – although I’m no expert – and could suggest that Phil’s writing gives evidence of an elevated score on the psychopathic-deviate² scale and denial on the subscales of the MMPI-II. But, as I explain below, it would be ridiculous for me to label the man Phil Johnson as such a person. It’s merely what comes through in his writing at times. Plus, as I said, I’m not an expert on testing.

At the risk of getting ahead of myself in looking at Phil’s post, I’ll jump to his concluding, rhetorical questions – which strike at the heart of his post:

That’s a long explanation of why I have stalled this discussion for the past week, and yet I still wish to pursue it. Can we try again? Can we discuss this issue seriously, without rancor and without all the histrionics?

Although the questions are rhetorical, I understand the doubt which causes Phil to raise them. There’s not a very good history of people respectfully and rationally discussing points of theology and/or practice about which they disagree. I’ll address this momentarily, but first I want to clarify something else.

Phil points out that “all the surliness and sarcasm came from the charismatic side of the aisle, not from ‘Reformed’ commenters.” I assume this to be true: I tend to stay away from most comments once I discover they’re just another rant or wild attack from the lunatic fringe. If Phil says the ugliness was on the charismatic side, I believe him.

But, there are three things to note:

1. Many charismatics describe themselves as “Reformed Charismatics,” so pointing the finger at the charismatics doesn’t necessarily absolve the Reformed camp.

2. I didn’t refer to any of the comments in my earlier post. Here’s what I said:

Maybe this just reflects the blogs that I have frequented most often in the past, but it seems to me that the blog wars tend to be between Reformed individuals. Phil and Turk go after iMonk, the barroom brawlers respond in their typical style, the Reformed cessationists argue with the Reformed charismatics – it strikes me that some of the more prolific Reformed bloggers are also the most pugnacious: they’ve never met a fight they didn’t like, and they’ve never retreated so much as an inch.”

3. Phil did not consider or discuss that my observation might be correct, i.e., that much of the time it is Reformed vs. Reformed in the blogwars.

To finally get around to addressing the rhetorical questions Phil posed, let me say this:

I believe Phil went to Moody Bible Institute and undoubtedly received a good education there. I see no record of him having gone to seminary, but that doesn’t mean anything at all: sometimes a seminary degree is just a union card, i.e., it opens doors that otherwise would be shut. That Phil has risen to the position he occupies is a credit to his devotion and study.

I suspect (but don’t know) that Phil learned at Moody at least one of the things I learned at Denver Seminary about discussing theological issues: make sure that you have fairly and clearly explained – as much as you are able – the position(s) with which you disagree before explaining why you disagree and then present your own position. For a practical demonstration of this, watch some of the lessons available at The Theology Program of Stonebriar Church. One of its guiding and fundamental principles is to accurately represent the “opponent” before explaining its own belief.

Too often online, when there is any meaningful exegesis or theology involved, it takes the shape of a polemic. This all but assures that those who disagree will quickly have their defenses up and will have a hard time hearing what is being said. It is wiser, it seems to me, to first demonstrate to them that you do have some understanding of their position and represent it accurately and respectfully. Then, when you disagree and present your own case, it won’t appear to be just a blind attack.

A lot of work? Absolutely, but if there is to be meaningful dialogue amongst bloggers of different flavors, it may be vital. Then the labeling, name-calling, and fruitless blogwars will be greatly reduced in frequency and/or vitriol. Are our brothers and sisters in Christ worth the effort? Each of us will have to answer that for ourselves, and it will be reflected in our blogs.

Regarding a related but different matter, I want to state the following:

I don’t know Phil Johnson: I’ve never met him, heard him speak, spoken with him, or talked with anybody who knows him personally. I don’t know if I would like him or not, although I would of course hope for the former. I think I would like him, though, because he seems like a guy – for an explanation of what makes a guy a guy, read this excellent book by Dave Barry. It should answer all your questions.

I respect what Phil has done professionally through the ministry given to him and do not doubt his sincerity about the things of God at all. His blog is the second one I read everyday (after Tim and just before David): while I usually agree with him doctrinally (as in this case, since I am a cessationist), I don’t find his writing style to be kind – I was going to say “generous” but that word seems to be going the way of the formerly joyful term “gay” – at all times. Or maybe it’s that he tends to be abrasive at times and doesn’t realize it. I don’t know the answer. Were I a smoldering wick or a battered reed, however, I would not read his blog.

But that doesn’t mean, if I were a struggling wick or reed, that I wouldn’t seek him out if I knew him personally. As I said, I don’t know him; if I did know him personally, he might be the first person I would seek out when darkness began creeping into my life. I don’t know Phil and neither do any others whose only exposure is through his blog.

The Pyromaniac, I suspect, struggles just like everyone else. Like me, he has good days and bad days with his wife. He worries about his children at times. He thinks about whether or not worldliness is slowly eating away at the fringes of his sanctification. He hates having to shave every morning. He goofs off sometimes when he should be working; he works sometimes when he should be goofing off. He laughs alot. He loves people. In other words, Phil is a man just like me; he is a believer in Christ Jesus just like most who read his blog.

What Phil Johnson is is a fellow believer; what Phil Johnson is not is the enemy. Period. And neither am I and, hopefully, neither are you. The wounds of a friend may be faithful (Pr 27.6), but we’d better make sure the other person knows we are a friend before we start wounding. Otherwise, we’re scorching one another with our words (Pr 16.27).

__________

¹There is a distinction to be maintained between charismatic gifts (grace gifts) and pneumatikos gifts (spiritual gifts). For further reading, see any of the standard evangelical dictionaries and/or encyclopedias on the subject of spiritual gifts.

²The pd scale on the MMPI does not mean someone is a psychopath; rather, it means that this person is more likely than others to swim against the tide and to be iconoclastic. At least, I hope that’s what it means since my own pd score was elevated.

They were the best of friends; they were the best of friends.

It was three or four decades ago. The war in Vietnam was escalating, the Beatles had introduced us to drugs, long hair for men was a badge, and campus unrest was the fad of the day. Students protested the war, caused a ruckus at the Democratic national convention in Chicago, and a library was blown up in Madison. The Black Panthers were strengthening, Black Power was emerging, and the “establishment” was the epitome of evil. A generation that would change the face and course of the nation was flexing its muscles, seeking to introduce peace and love into a culture it believed was hell-bent on war and the accumulation of money.

On what was supposed to be a cool, pleasant, autumn day at Indiana State University, a former high school acquaintance of mine, along with 40-50 Black (for so they wished to be known at the time) young men had taken over the administration building and locked the staff out of their offices. Mark, who looked like a lonely cotton ball in the midst of a pile of coal, was standing on the roof of a portico that provided entrance to the admin building. With several others at his side, he was reading off a long list of demands that he and his comrades felt needed to be addressed at the university before they would relinquish control. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of students stood in the quad listening to Mark: some cheered him on, most seemed quietly amused.

I stood listening as well, accompanied by 12-15 of my friends. Word of Mark’s state-of-the-disunion address had interrupted our euchre game in the student center, drawing us to the middle of the quad and about 50 feet or so from where the demands were being read. I was listening carefully, disagreeing fully, and all of 19 years of age. In the middle of the address, I shouted out,

“If you don’t like it here, leave!”

Mark stopped and looked in my direction. I don’t know for certain that he recognized me, but I believe he did. After a pause of five seconds or so, he began speaking again. After he had said only a handful of additional words, I shouted even louder,

“IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT HERE, GO SOME PLACE ELSE!”

I don’t know what Mark did at that point, although I’m pretty sure he stopped talking. I’m not sure because my attention was immediately drawn to 20 or so Black males who were standing directly in front of Mark. They suddenly spun on their heels and started heading in my direction. They were walking rather quickly, I remember thinking, and they didn’t look very happy. I thought to myself, “Well, there are more of them than of us, but it won’t be too bad. I was standing, after all, with 12-15 of my own friends.

The key word in that last sentence is “was,” because when I looked around at my friends, I saw them running for cover back into the student union building. Only two friends stood by me: Jerome Trierweiler and Bob Beshaw. One stood behind my left shoulder, the other behind my right: in other words, they had my back.

To be honest, I don’t know if they agreed with me or not; I suspect that they did not, given their own attitudes about the draft, the war, and racism. I knew Jerome didn’t like Mark, but Bob had never met Mark. But as the now-impressive horde approached, they stood with me. Loyal friends.

When the envoys from Mark arrived, they asked what my problem was; I said that this was not the way to do it, that there were other ways to accomplish their goals, and that just because Columbia and some other schools were taking over administration buildings didn’t mean it was the right thing to do at ISU. The young Black man with whom I spoke was a bright and reasonable fellow: about six or seven of them, along with the three of us, went and got coffee and talked about things. Later I marched with them in a peaceful protest. I think Jerome and Bob did, too.

Fast-forward 36-plus years. I am having coffee with two Christian friends in a quiet little restaurant on a Saturday morning. As we talk, solving all the problems in the world, I am distracted by a father who is speaking harshly to his son at a table near the entrance. At one point I laugh very loudly, hoping to interrupt the tirade going on between father and son. Nothing happens, however, and the verbal abuse continues.

When the time comes for my friends and I to leave, I ask my friends if any of them have a cell phone; they say no, so I give them mine and tell them to get ready to call 9-1-1. We pay our bill and I head for the father-and-son table. The father is just returning from the bathroom, apparently, and I approach him and talk as gently and non-aggressively as I know how. The conversation goes something like this:

You may tell me this is none of my business, and that’s fine, but I’ve been listening to the way you’ve been talking to your son for the last 30 minutes. What you’re saying is good and things he needs to hear, but the way you’re saying them is wrong. You obviously care about your son because you’re here with him at breakfast on a Saturday morning, spending time with him. But you don’t want to break his spirit, you want to mold it.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I don’t usually talk to him like this.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” I reply softly. “You need to apologize to him.”

“It’s just that what I was saying is so important and I wanted him to understand that,” he says. “I got carried away because I love him.”

“You need to tell him that, too” I say encouragingly before walking away, “not me.”

I turn to head for the door, expecting my friends to be there waiting for me. They are not there; they are outside, out of harm’s way. Standing near their cars, out of sight. Safe from any violence that might erupt. Salad forks can be lethal weapons in the right hands, I suppose.

Back in 1969, Jerome and Bob were approaching the basement of the social structure of our time. They were nobodies: poor college students at a second-tier school just trying to get by. They had no status or power. All they had was loyalty. Neither was a Christian, or at least didn’t profess to be or live like one.

My friends at the restaurant were a doctor and lawyer, one in his early 50s and the other in his 40s. They are “well-respected men about town” and at the top of their professions. They are looked up to professionally and personally; they are sought after to serve on committees and boards both in the community and the local church where all three of us are members. Both these men are Christians.

I couldn’t escape the contrast. Jerome and Bob were the best of friends: they didn’t amount to much by the world’s standards, but both were loyal and stuck by me even if they didn’t agree. The lawyer and doctor, however, were the best of friends: they have all the credentials and outward appearances, but something is missing. As has been said, they have all the qualities of a dog except loyalty.

Something is terribly wrong. When I went back to Indiana for my mother’s funeral a few months ago, Jerome came, even as he had come to my father’s 9 years previous. He’s there for me, even now. Bob lives in Florida and likely doesn’t know of either of my parents’ deaths.

I miss my friends from my drug days sometimes. There was a community, a closeness, a bond, and a loyalty that I’ve rarely encountered in the church. I scratch my head and feel sorrowful over the truth of Pr 20.6:

“Many a man proclaims his own loyalty, But who can find a trustworthy man?”

All I can do is try to be a loyal friend myself. And pray to find one nearby.

An exchange of comments over at Dan’s place raised a question which I – as the self-appointed guardian of truth in the world – feel compelled to answer. Here are the comments, stemming from Dan’s white flag post about which I wrote below. My interaction was with Jim from Old Truth. I wrote:

Well, Bill may be afraid to speak for Dan, but I’m not!

Jim at OT wrote:

I assume that you feel that your beliefs and doctrinal views are correct, are pleasing to the Lord, and that you have a bullet proof case for them from a scriptural standpoint.

I don’t think Dan feels “bulletproof” at all: I believe he feels that, while he firmly holds to his positions and beliefs, he is fallible and could be wrong. He is open to correction and growth. In a word, he is humble. It’s the bloggers with “bullet-proof” beliefs that cause most of the trouble. Dan’s saying it’s a waste of time and a bad witness. I agree.

To which Jim replied,

Dr. Mike writes:

“It’s the bloggers with ‘bullet-proof’ beliefs that cause most of the trouble”.

Do you have a problem with “ALL certainty of belief”, or are you making that statement based on your own subjective opinion of what people should be allowed to have firm beliefs on? For example: I assume that you are certain of the Incarnation and Resurrection, and I’m guessing that you would defend those certainties on your own blog (if you have one).

Dr. Mike says: “Dan’s saying it’s a waste of time and a bad witness. I agree.”

Again though, that’s based on your opinion of where the line should be drawn, relating to what you think is worth making bold assertions about. Perhaps there are some who feel that other biblical doctrines are certain, and are worth defending. One example being Sola Scriptura. That may not be a belief that you want to die on a hill for, but for others it is extremely important.

I had written a lengthy response but Blogger thought it best to lose my comment, so here I am back at WordPress where things tend not to disappear so easily.

The important question Jim raises, and which I want to address, is what constitutes a non-negotiable teaching and what is – if not negotiable, then at least – a tolerable, different teaching. First, however, let me clarify something that may have created confusion to begin with.

When I used the term “bullet-proof” beliefs, I meant (in that context) beliefs to which the individual dogmatically and rigidly adheres. No amount of biblical or theological argumention is going to move them one bit: such “bullet-proof” beliefs are impervious to change and resistant to any proofs to the contrary. Jim, I think, meant it in a different sense, and that is the subject of this post.

For me, an essential doctrine or teaching is one for which there is no biblical or theological argument to the contrary. The incarnation of Christ, the deity of Christ, the five solas, the resurrection, and such are examples of essential teachings. No legitimate exegesis and interpretation can be drawn from the Bible to argue to the contrary.

Non-essentials, however, are different; non-essentials have biblical arguments which can be made. For example, although I believe in eternal security I am familiar with and respect the arguments made by those who believe in eternal insecurity an Arminian view. Godly theologians disagree on such matters and are able to present valid arguments to support their beliefs. They do not have to resort to extra-biblical support or argumentation to make their point.

(Of course, the question of what constitutes a “valid” argument re-introduces the arbitrariness of the matter, but validity is easier to deal with than strictly subjective lines in the sand.)

The question of cessationism is similar. I have a particular belief regarding the matter of which I am quite convinced. But I have also read and studied the other side: I disagree with some of the opposing conclusions or interpretations, but I respect their scholarship and subsequent beliefs. I don’t think I’m wrong, but I could be persuaded otherwise were someone able to elucidate an argument that shifted the preponderance of support to the other side.

To summarize, essentials cannot be argued against from a biblical or theological perspective; non-essentials can be supported in more than one way (e.g., premil, amil, postmil eschatology). I will go to the wall for the essentials – as I believe both Dan and Jim would – but not for the non-essentials. One can be an amil, charismatic, Arminian and live a godly, God-glorifying life. I see no need to try to argue them out of their belief system.

Now, if they want to learn the truth, I’d be happy to . . .

OK, so Dan didn’t say that exactly but the essence of his The Godblogosphere’s Black Hole is a call for peace in place of all the arguing and bickering that has characterized so much of so-called Christian blogging of late.

Dan begins:

Four days.

Yesterday, I joked about jumping back into the charismatic/cessationist debate that fueled the Godblogosphere discussion during the last quarter of 2005. Now Phil Johnson over at Pyromaniac, mere hours after I posted my comments on Acts 2, is going to prove ONCE AND FOR ALL that the gifts have ceased. Four days into the new year and here we go again.

“All I want to say in response is that my white flag is up–I quit.

“No, Cerulean Sanctum isn’t going away. But to be honest here, I really feel like we’re wasting our time blogging if this is the best we can do with this fantastic medium for bringing together great Christian minds. If the sum total of Godblogging is to see who’s right and who’s wrong then we might as well pack it in.”

Maybe this just reflects the blogs that I have frequented most often in the past, but it seems to me that the blog wars tend to be between Reformed individuals. Phil and Turk go after iMonk, the barroom brawlers respond in their typical style, the Reformed cessationists argue with the Reformed charismatics – it strikes me that some of the more prolific Reformed bloggers are also the most pugnacious: they’ve never met a fight they didn’t like, and they’ve never retreated so much as an inch. And some seem to delight in stirring up trouble just for the sake of arguing, like little boys on a playground trying to show how tough they are.

Which is why I greatly appreciate the more irenic Reformed bloggers like Tim Challies, David Wayne, and others. And, it now appears, Dan has joined the more serene and stable in the Reformed community. I don’t think the obnoxious – or just plain noxious – behavior has anything to do with Reformed doctrine; I do think that Reformed doctrine tends to attract angry, rigid, and aggressive individuals who baptize their bad behavior in quotes from Calvin.

If this seems like a rant against Reformed bloggers, it’s not meant to be; it’s intended to be a mirror for those few who make the Reformed position look bad. Of course, they’ll never consider the possibility that a non-Reformed person – who is automatically suspect because I will not chant the TULIP mantra – might be right. They’ll just blast away or ignore it. But maybe some of you peaceable, more mature Reformed bloggers can get through to the loose cannons on deck.

Maybe sometime when I have absolutely nothing else to do, I’ll go back and see how many blog wars there have been that haven’t been between Reformed brethren. Things might be a bit more loving and edifying if the Reformed in-fighting didn’t monopolize the topics so often.

Experientially, I don’t care about the in-house problems of the Reformed community. I’ve tried engaging some of them only to be treated like a Samaritan dog. That’s fine: I don’t need any more narcissists in my life and the crumbs that fall from their tables tend to be baby food anyway.

I just get tired of listening to them tear one another down and watching them bring disgrace to the Name of Christ.

Sadly, Dan at Cerulean Sanctum has concluded his series on The Church’s Brave New Brain after only three posts. I say sadly because (a) he makes some wonderful points, (b) he is pointing in the right direction (pun intended), but (c) he stops short of what could and would make a difference in the church’s efforts in evangelism and – especially – discipleship.

In developing his argument, Dan says,

Having increasingly been disenfranchised by Evangelicalism in America, right-brained thinkers fled to other non-Evangelical Christian sects or abandoned the Church altogether. The irony of this flight is that conservative Christians have lamented the death spiral of our culture, fighting tooth and nail against the threat of degraded culture, a culture largely derived from the vacuum created by the same conservatives’ inability to keep the right-brainers in the pews.”

In other words, the predominant and unbalanced emphasis on “left-brain” functions in the majority of evangelical churches has created the problem. Unable to think outside the box, the “left-brain church” (L-BC) has no hope of solving the problem: it can only vilify, castigate, excoriate and further insulate itself from the very part of the Body of Christ – the “right-brain church” (R-BC) – that it so desperately needs in order to be whole.

[I must impose an intercalation - a fine dispensational term if ever there was one - to say that I find it somewhat peculiar to be talking about the church's brain. I had always assumed that Christ was the Head of the church, locally and universally, and as such He was the brains of the organism. Perhaps many churches are unhealthy because they have no brain, i.e., they have been cut off from the Head (Col 1.18, 2.18-19). But I understand Dan's metaphor, so I will endeavor not to get too distracted by my left-brained dissonance.]

Dan continues:

The problem facing the Church in this dramatic shift is that the whole of Christendom can’t seem to find a balance point from which to address this change. We’ve been so long in the left-brained aspect of Christianity that incorporating right-brained thinking in our message smacks of compromise to some. But right-brained people, long marginalized both inadvertantly and calculatingly, want to know Christ, too. And in many cases, our heavily left-brained presentation of the Gospel hasn’t gotten through to them.”

Dan then contrasts Mt 22.15-22 with Mt 13.3-9 as representative of Christ utilizing both left- and right-brain teaching, respectively. While I would stop short of referring to this as “teaching,” it is certainly illustrative of left- and right-brain appeals. The former is a logical debate while the latter is a parable, i.e., an extended metaphor.

[Now, although I am about to disagree with Dan momentarily, I am not disagreeing with the point he has vividly and poignantly made, i.e., that the church is wrong-headed in its practice and needs correction. As I said above, he is headed in the right direction but stops short of a more complete solution. This may be due to lack of information only or because he firmly believes that his approach is sufficient. Either way, Dan and I are singing from the same hymnal on this - that is, if we can agree on which one to use!]

In my view, Dan misconstrues the implications of this, a precursor of his (again, in my view) underdeveloped solution to the problem:

Here we have narrative, the backbone of right-brained teaching. The images, in stark contrast to the teaching above, are metaphorical. Jesus ends by saying that those who can understand should understand–not a left-brained summation at all. In most cases we do not see Jesus teaching the intelligentsia using parables–those are usually shared with the common people.

Narrative is not the backbone of right-brained “teaching,” although it may be considered vital in engaging the right hemisphere of the brain in the learning process. Nor is Dan correct in saying that Jesus’ summation is “not a left-brained” appeal: whether refering to “hear” in Mt 13.9, “know” in 13.11, or “understand” in 13.13, all involve left-brain processes.

I am not seeking to beat a dead horse, but it is important to understand what is happening in the second passage Dan has adduced. It bears greatly on how the church can avoid being either L-BC or R-BC.

The first word, “hear” in v. 9, is the Greek akouo, which simply means to pay attention and consider what has just been said. It also implies that there is understanding and that the hearer is able to make sense of what has been said. The second term, “know,” is a word likely familiar to most readers: it is the Greek ginosko. According to one lexicon, it means “to know, understand, perceive, and have knowledge of” something, which in this case would be the parable that Jesus just taught. The final word is suniemi, “understand,” which means “to set or join together in the mind.”

Contrary to Dan’s statement, the left hemisphere of the brain is very much involved in Jesus’ use of parables in general and Mt 13.3-9 specifically. Although the parable itself engages the right hemisphere with its imagery and metaphorical narrative, it is critical that the other hemisphere consider, understand, and interpret what the parable means. It is for this reason that Jesus often has to explain parables to His disciples: they did not understand cognitively. The problem with those who did not comprehend was not that they were too left-brained but that they were not left-brained enough.

The problem is not either-or; the solution is both-and, as Dan explains later:

The corpus callosum is a band of nerves that connects the left and right hemispheres of the brain. If ever we needed someone to be that part of the Body of Christ, it’s now. We need people who can bridge that gap and bring doctrine and beauty, facts and mystery, and community and individuality together. Those might sound completely incompatible, but to a bridge person, they’re not.

As I explained in my leviathan-like post “Christ on the Brain” (or, for the conclusion only, go here), there are three components to brain-based learning; not surprisingly, Christ employed all three in His training of the twelve. The components are:

1. Relaxed alertness
2. Orchestrated immersion
3. Active processing.

“Relaxed alertness” means being in an environment that is safe, loving, supportive, but also challenging. “Orchestrated immersion” means that the student/disciple is deliberately and actively involved in learning process, not merely sitting and absorbing like a passive sponge. “Active processing” means that, following the experience, there is an opportunity to discuss and assimilate what has just transpired, i.e., to reflect and consider it.

This is precisely what Jesus did with the Twelve. He loved them but challenged some of their most cherished beliefs; He actively sent them out or called upon them to solve an immediate problem (knowing that they could not), and He frequently sat and explained teachings and events to them afterwards (e.g., some parables or why they were unable to cast out a demon).

Brain-based or Christ-like teaching involves these three components; these three aspects engage and involve both hemispheres of the brain as well as both cognitive and affective dimensions of the learning experience. All are necessary but the church generally speaking has failed to utilize such an approach.

Dan has accurately diagnosed the problem and pointed in the proper direction for fixing it. But a little more is required than just developing the spiritual corpus callosum in the church: it means developing brain-based learning in each member of the Body of Christ so we can all participate and benefit from the various gifts He has bestowed upon His people.

I am reading Dan’s The Church’s Brave New Brain series at Cerulean Sanctum with considerable interest, since my mini-dissertation was on neurology and sanctification and the implications for discipleship and Christian education.

Dan may be heading in this direction eventually, but at present I detect a false dichotomy (left-brain v. right-brain) that would preclude (in my opinion, at least) the biblical resolution. The “cure” – i.e., the Christlike thinking, feeling, and behaving we all desire – is to be neither right- nor left-brained: it is to develop the ability to use our brains as God intended.

There is a fissure in our brain, of course, but we are not so sharply divided as might be imagined. The goal, therefore, is to use all of our brain all of the time. Reason needs to be tempered by compassion; passion by clear thinking.

Ultimately, it comes down to what we focus on. Focus, or consciousness, is like a flashlight: wherever the flashlight looks, there is light. The flashlight has no knowledge that the rest of the room is dark or that other things might exist in the room at the same time. As Christians, we cannot allow ourselves to think that what we are focusing on is all that there is; we must scan the totality of creation and blend the cerebral with the visceral. One to the exclusion of the other will inevitably lead to bad theology, bad praxis, or both.

Dan is correct that we have tended to view the arts too narrowly. We have essentially created a subculture of so-called art that is only rarely noticed, often to the embarrassment of many – e.g., the Left Behind series. One wonders when the Right Behind series will be released, as in left-behind eschatology v. right-behind eschatology. But perhaps I’m being asinine.

The author of the 20th Century was, after all, a Christian: J.R.R. Tolkien spent most of life – from adolescence on – to developing the incredible mythology of Middle-earth. Tolkien was a believer, whatever some narrow-minded orcs may say, and his mythology was closely patterned on the true mythology of the Bible. It was not so blatantly and simplistically allegorical as C.S. Lewis’ works, a fact that may explain why Lewis’ fiction is the darling of Christians while Tolkien’s intricate allusionary masterpiece remains suspect.

It will take the ability to utilize both the thinking and feeling parts of the brain to produce the quality of art that was dominated by Christians in the premodern era. Modernism, it seems, is all about left-brain productivity; postmodernism seems, in at least one way, to be about right-brain sensitivity.

What was Christ? Left-brained? Right-brained? The answer is obvious: both. Those of us who seek to develop the mind of Christ would do well to focus on the complementarity of both sides of the brain in our pursuit of Christlikeness.