So I was recently turned on to Theologica by a couple friends. I don't know that I'll post there often, as my interest in online theological debate has waned some over the years as I have realized how little I actually know. (I suppose it's that, and the fact that I prefer to be a student these days.)
It seems like it could be quite interesting, regardless, and if there's actually anyone other than those couple friends who reads this, you should look at it.
The Other part of the title stems from a Sunday incident, when I was accosted by an older, nearly bald man (save some longer hair tied back—I hope the Lord takes all of my hair instead, though I admit if sin is its own worst consequence, he'll likely repay my vanity with something like it) who revealed in me a startling inadequacy in verbally discussing my theological convictions.
After introducing ourselves, he mentioned he was interested in finding a Bible study; he appreciated the Christ-centered sermons and hoped to involve himself further—specifically with younger people. He preferred them for their zeal. The discussion winded a little ways on, and he then told me he wanted to start a Messianic Jewish church. I asked him if he was a Messianic Jew—negative, but "That's where it's at." Specifically he was keen on the deity of Christ, which warmed me to him some.
But he proceeded to blurt out a lot of works-based forumlae for salvation, and then completely flabbergasted me with the statement that some guy (by saying which, I think he meant "idiot") at Westminster Presbyterian taught that it was the faith of Christ that saves us, not our own faith. While I have some reservations about saying it that way, I got the gist and was surprised anyone at a reputable seminary would teach something like that.
He was considerably disturbed by the doctrine and Calvinism in general; I don't think he understood it very well. His verbal onslaught reduced me to half-hearted attempts to direct him to the list of Bible studies in the church; I have never met someone who simultaneously hit on all those points at once in a negative way in roughly three minutes of frantic speech.
I suppose my lack of enthusiasm (zeal, I guess he would say) probably has left him thinking I don't understand a lick of it all and he had better find someone else to talk to. (I confess I am not too upset by that.) Yet it highlighted for me how poorly prepared I was for a blindsiding of that variety.
I suppose there was no question in his statements, but undoubtedly there was challenge; and I had no idea what to say. I'm sure the meeting was providential (made possible by redemption, eh? ;), but I haven't the foggiest about the purpose, unless it is simply to sharpen my sword and better soldier. And perhaps that is the impetus for finally getting a Theologica account.
Showing posts with label my theological persuasions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label my theological persuasions. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Righteousness
I was recently asked about whether I considered myself "blameless," and I thought perhaps this would be a good time to review some of my opinions on the concepts of justification and righteousness. I'm still trying to incorporate what I'm learning in 1 Thessalonians into my view of these subjects, so I suppose that my opinions may change with time.
I think the concept of justification and righteousness has changed throughout the history of the church, or we may at the very least say that there are considerable differences between the Protestant perspective and the Roman one; Sproul has some good comments about these differences.
In sum, the Reformers looked at justification in the light of a legal transaction; sin incurs a debt, and justification occurs because the debt has been satisfied. I think it is fair to say that the RCC and EOC have a somewhat more malleable definition of righteousness.
I say this because the Protestant doctrine of imputation states that the righteousness of Christ is imputed to sinners, who cannot be righteous apart from it. Christ's righteousness is permanent and static; he is not more righteous sometimes or less righteous others. The RCC and EOC, by contrast, view righteousness as personal rather than imputed. This implies that one's righteousness is mingled with sin.1
In this instance, I certainly agree with the Reformers. God's righteousness is an absolute standard (and evidently a means of obligation) against which sinners are measured. Since we are all found wanting (Rm 3.23), there is no measure of righteousness outside of Christ's (Rm 3.24). So God in Christ makes us righteous and then declares us to be so.
I maintain a distinction further between the regenerate spirit and the depraved flesh. We see in Romans 7 and Galatians 5 that the flesh sins—that's all it can do. But the regenerate spirit, it seems, cannot (cf 1Jo 3). Moreover, in 1Co 15, we are told that we will receive a glorified body in heaven, but nothing is said about the spirit.
So to be clear, I believe that the regenerate spirit is righteous and that its righteousness is Christ's, imputed by his faithfulness in performing the will of God. It is in this sense that I consider myself righteous. Not in the sense that I have somehow achieved a Christ-like ability to do the Right Thing all the time.
This is a fairly deep and complex topic, and I'm skimming over quite a bit. As time permits, perhaps I'll expound on it further.
[1] There are some examples of support for this taken from Job and Noah, for example, and also from Pr 24.16. The last may be discounted by context, I think. The first two are usually explained from the perspective of NT justification, i.e., that OT saints are righteous for same reason that we are.
I think the concept of justification and righteousness has changed throughout the history of the church, or we may at the very least say that there are considerable differences between the Protestant perspective and the Roman one; Sproul has some good comments about these differences.
In sum, the Reformers looked at justification in the light of a legal transaction; sin incurs a debt, and justification occurs because the debt has been satisfied. I think it is fair to say that the RCC and EOC have a somewhat more malleable definition of righteousness.
I say this because the Protestant doctrine of imputation states that the righteousness of Christ is imputed to sinners, who cannot be righteous apart from it. Christ's righteousness is permanent and static; he is not more righteous sometimes or less righteous others. The RCC and EOC, by contrast, view righteousness as personal rather than imputed. This implies that one's righteousness is mingled with sin.1
In this instance, I certainly agree with the Reformers. God's righteousness is an absolute standard (and evidently a means of obligation) against which sinners are measured. Since we are all found wanting (Rm 3.23), there is no measure of righteousness outside of Christ's (Rm 3.24). So God in Christ makes us righteous and then declares us to be so.
I maintain a distinction further between the regenerate spirit and the depraved flesh. We see in Romans 7 and Galatians 5 that the flesh sins—that's all it can do. But the regenerate spirit, it seems, cannot (cf 1Jo 3). Moreover, in 1Co 15, we are told that we will receive a glorified body in heaven, but nothing is said about the spirit.
So to be clear, I believe that the regenerate spirit is righteous and that its righteousness is Christ's, imputed by his faithfulness in performing the will of God. It is in this sense that I consider myself righteous. Not in the sense that I have somehow achieved a Christ-like ability to do the Right Thing all the time.
This is a fairly deep and complex topic, and I'm skimming over quite a bit. As time permits, perhaps I'll expound on it further.
[1] There are some examples of support for this taken from Job and Noah, for example, and also from Pr 24.16. The last may be discounted by context, I think. The first two are usually explained from the perspective of NT justification, i.e., that OT saints are righteous for same reason that we are.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Progressive Sanctification
The term "progressive sanctification" is one that I'm really not all that fond of at all. I believe quite strongly in the finished work of Christ, and a part of this is certainly sanctification; see, for example, Hebrews 10.10 ("by the which will we have been sanctified forever"). I find the idea that God did as much as he could do, and now the rest is up to you, frankly quite ridiculous.
I don't want to give the impression in writing those words that I don't have strong opinions about human responsibility. But I have equally strong opinions about how that should be emphasized. The gospel is a gospel of reality, not of possibility. All too often, those who tout progressive sanctification preach the (false) gospel of possibility, not the gospel of reality, and so they teach that God didn't actually make us holy. (I'm not quite sure what they do with Hebrews 10.)
So the verses I've read in 1 Thessalonians 4 recently produced some consternation:
The reason this bothers me a little bit is because I fail at this all the time. Grammatically speaking, I don't see how we can escape the pretty straightforward meaning of these verses: God's will is my sanctification, and that includes me doing and not doing certain things.
We're aided not a little bit here in the realization that (like every other passage regarding sanctification) we're being exhorted to live like who we are:
Don't miss the different prepositions here; the first is EPI and the second EN. While building theology on prepositions is a shaky prospect at best,1 I think it's important to realize that EPI is a preposition of motion,2 and EN a preposition of state. So I think what we're seeing here is that God did not call us to live lives of impurity, but he called us after he sanctified us.
So to an extent, this kind of answers my initial discomfort about whether or not this is a good text for progressive sanctification. It isn't telling us to become more holy as much as it's telling us to live out externally what has already happened internally.
This also happens to answer the other problem I have had with this passage. There is no impediment to God's will: what he wills and what happens, as far as I can tell, are one and the same. I guess I have a hard time reaching the conclusion that God's will may be my sanctification, but it might not happen because of what a terrible sinner I am.
I think verse eight sheds some light on this:
I do not believe it's an accident that God's Spirit is "holy" and that we are "holy". The "progressive" part of our sanctification is the outworking of the Holy Spirit. And so God's will is accomplished in our lives through his Spirit.
Though I generally try to avoid studying the New Testament on my own time, this has been pretty fruitful. (The reason I avoid it is because I know a lot more Greek than Hebrew—I don't know much Greek at all, incidentally—and so the going is slow and I get bogged down in the details.)
[1] Some support immersion-only baptism on the premise that Jesus came out of the water, neglecting historical data that while immersion is the preferred mode of baptism, it has been done in many ways since the early church; Eusebius comments on this.
[2] This is actually a bit of an oversimplification; there is a good discussion of Greek prepositions from the Companion Bible available online.
I don't want to give the impression in writing those words that I don't have strong opinions about human responsibility. But I have equally strong opinions about how that should be emphasized. The gospel is a gospel of reality, not of possibility. All too often, those who tout progressive sanctification preach the (false) gospel of possibility, not the gospel of reality, and so they teach that God didn't actually make us holy. (I'm not quite sure what they do with Hebrews 10.)
So the verses I've read in 1 Thessalonians 4 recently produced some consternation:
This is God's will, your sanctification: that you abstain from fornication; that each of you know how to possess his own vessel in sanctification and honor...
The reason this bothers me a little bit is because I fail at this all the time. Grammatically speaking, I don't see how we can escape the pretty straightforward meaning of these verses: God's will is my sanctification, and that includes me doing and not doing certain things.
We're aided not a little bit here in the realization that (like every other passage regarding sanctification) we're being exhorted to live like who we are:
For God has not called us to impurity, but in sanctification.
Don't miss the different prepositions here; the first is EPI and the second EN. While building theology on prepositions is a shaky prospect at best,1 I think it's important to realize that EPI is a preposition of motion,2 and EN a preposition of state. So I think what we're seeing here is that God did not call us to live lives of impurity, but he called us after he sanctified us.
So to an extent, this kind of answers my initial discomfort about whether or not this is a good text for progressive sanctification. It isn't telling us to become more holy as much as it's telling us to live out externally what has already happened internally.
This also happens to answer the other problem I have had with this passage. There is no impediment to God's will: what he wills and what happens, as far as I can tell, are one and the same. I guess I have a hard time reaching the conclusion that God's will may be my sanctification, but it might not happen because of what a terrible sinner I am.
I think verse eight sheds some light on this:
So, he who rejects this is not rejecting man but the God who gives His Holy Spirit to you.
I do not believe it's an accident that God's Spirit is "holy" and that we are "holy". The "progressive" part of our sanctification is the outworking of the Holy Spirit. And so God's will is accomplished in our lives through his Spirit.
Though I generally try to avoid studying the New Testament on my own time, this has been pretty fruitful. (The reason I avoid it is because I know a lot more Greek than Hebrew—I don't know much Greek at all, incidentally—and so the going is slow and I get bogged down in the details.)
[1] Some support immersion-only baptism on the premise that Jesus came out of the water, neglecting historical data that while immersion is the preferred mode of baptism, it has been done in many ways since the early church; Eusebius comments on this.
[2] This is actually a bit of an oversimplification; there is a good discussion of Greek prepositions from the Companion Bible available online.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Penal Substitution, part two
I haven't been idle in doing more research on penal substitution. I ran across an excellent article called The Logic of Penal Substitution by Packer. It's well-written, considers several different views of the atonement, and provides a decent apologetic for the doctrine of penal substitution.
In my conversations elsewhere, the notion of participation as a model for understanding the Passover, and by extension, the cross has come up, and I wanted to expound on it a little bit.
One criticism of the penal substitution model is that there's more going on than the death of the lamb. If we were to expect the focus of the Passover to be penal substitution, wouldn't there be more of an emphasis on the sacrifice than there is? There's plenty of verses there about the preparation of the food, the manner in which it's to be eaten, and so on. Why is all that there if the focus is on the judgment?
The simple response to this is that of course there's more going on than a mitigation of judgment. We should expect more and hope for it also—there's certainly more to our relationship with God than no longer being condemned.
Instead of seeing substitution penally, others see it as a matter of participation. This is a difficult concept for me to explain, but I'll do my best. Packer does do a good job, so I'd advise reading his essay.
But we can see two different (not necessarily opposing) ways of helping others. The first is doing for them what they cannot do themselves; the second is helping them to help themselves. So rather than "I'll do for you what you cannot do for yourself," they see the cross as, "I'll enable you to participate in a relationship with God."
So some see the elaborate instructions concerning the preparation of food and so on as a means of participating in the Passover.
This is all well and good, but it really doesn't change the fact that there is a very clear judgment and condemnation, and that the Israelite first-born faced it as well as the Egyptian. It secondly doesn't really answer the point that the penal substitution model may very well encapsulate others, and properly should. It has a larger scope.
So I am still waiting to see where else it goes, and trying to put my mind in an older frame of reference.
In my conversations elsewhere, the notion of participation as a model for understanding the Passover, and by extension, the cross has come up, and I wanted to expound on it a little bit.
One criticism of the penal substitution model is that there's more going on than the death of the lamb. If we were to expect the focus of the Passover to be penal substitution, wouldn't there be more of an emphasis on the sacrifice than there is? There's plenty of verses there about the preparation of the food, the manner in which it's to be eaten, and so on. Why is all that there if the focus is on the judgment?
The simple response to this is that of course there's more going on than a mitigation of judgment. We should expect more and hope for it also—there's certainly more to our relationship with God than no longer being condemned.
Instead of seeing substitution penally, others see it as a matter of participation. This is a difficult concept for me to explain, but I'll do my best. Packer does do a good job, so I'd advise reading his essay.
But we can see two different (not necessarily opposing) ways of helping others. The first is doing for them what they cannot do themselves; the second is helping them to help themselves. So rather than "I'll do for you what you cannot do for yourself," they see the cross as, "I'll enable you to participate in a relationship with God."
So some see the elaborate instructions concerning the preparation of food and so on as a means of participating in the Passover.
This is all well and good, but it really doesn't change the fact that there is a very clear judgment and condemnation, and that the Israelite first-born faced it as well as the Egyptian. It secondly doesn't really answer the point that the penal substitution model may very well encapsulate others, and properly should. It has a larger scope.
So I am still waiting to see where else it goes, and trying to put my mind in an older frame of reference.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Penal Substitution
The beginnings of an interesting discussion are taking hold at one of the message boards I frequent regarding the nature of predestination. A significant side bar is the doctrine of penal substitution, which I would casually define as justice applied to one party in place of another.
I have not paid much attention to the conflict from "the other side," so to speak, so I thought it might be worth taking some time to recapitulate some of the views on the subject I have seen elsewhere.
As it turns out, there is a lot of material. A chapter from Dr John Miley's The Atonement in Christ is available online. I found it through Theopedia's page on the subject, which has some quotes and links elsewhere. A rather brief description of several theories of atonement may be found there also. (This is a little disappointing, because how the theory evolves from the early fathers to Anselm is not mentioned at all.)
As with many debates, this one really starts with the definitions, and I think the principle ones are "just" and its close relative "justice." I would describe "justice" as "righteousness in action." Just is the adjective that describes one who is righteous.
I tend to think of righteousness in contrast to sin, i.e., "How much sin can I mix with righteousness before it's not righteousness anymore?" (In other words, we might try define righteousness as an absence of sin. This isn't quite fair, though; an absence of sin is innocence, not righteousness.) We may also define it positively, e.g., as adherence to a standard. This is not terribly different than the previous paragraph, though it avoids the parenthetical complication by defining righteousness positively. Justice, then, might be defined as the execution of the standard.
But I think it is really this definition that is questioned. Some views of God's justice either change the standard (so that righteousness is less) or God's nature (so that he needn't be satisfied in a substitutionary way, for example).
I find support from it in a variety of places.
The use of types. For example, in the Passover as a type of Christ's sacrifice. All of the first-born in Egypt were under the death sentence. The judgment was in a sense commuted for those who sacrificed a lamb of certain quality (first year, unblemished) and sprinkled its blood on the doorposts.
We also see the preposition hUPER used in the New Testament when it says that Christ died "for" us. You're free to read some commentary on the use of the preposition and its meaning, along with some others.
The different words for forgive are also a powerful argument. CARIZOMAI is a verb of legal transaction, the satisfaction of a debt. AFIHMI, on the other hand, is a word of fellowship (it literally means "to send [something] away"), and so is used of a wife sending away her husband (1Co 7.13) and of God sending away our sin (1Jo 1.9).
There are others, but these will have to suffice for this hour. This is a subject sure to be revisited as I read more and acquire a better understanding of the other side.
I have not paid much attention to the conflict from "the other side," so to speak, so I thought it might be worth taking some time to recapitulate some of the views on the subject I have seen elsewhere.
As it turns out, there is a lot of material. A chapter from Dr John Miley's The Atonement in Christ is available online. I found it through Theopedia's page on the subject, which has some quotes and links elsewhere. A rather brief description of several theories of atonement may be found there also. (This is a little disappointing, because how the theory evolves from the early fathers to Anselm is not mentioned at all.)
As with many debates, this one really starts with the definitions, and I think the principle ones are "just" and its close relative "justice." I would describe "justice" as "righteousness in action." Just is the adjective that describes one who is righteous.
I tend to think of righteousness in contrast to sin, i.e., "How much sin can I mix with righteousness before it's not righteousness anymore?" (In other words, we might try define righteousness as an absence of sin. This isn't quite fair, though; an absence of sin is innocence, not righteousness.) We may also define it positively, e.g., as adherence to a standard. This is not terribly different than the previous paragraph, though it avoids the parenthetical complication by defining righteousness positively. Justice, then, might be defined as the execution of the standard.
But I think it is really this definition that is questioned. Some views of God's justice either change the standard (so that righteousness is less) or God's nature (so that he needn't be satisfied in a substitutionary way, for example).
I find support from it in a variety of places.
The use of types. For example, in the Passover as a type of Christ's sacrifice. All of the first-born in Egypt were under the death sentence. The judgment was in a sense commuted for those who sacrificed a lamb of certain quality (first year, unblemished) and sprinkled its blood on the doorposts.
We also see the preposition hUPER used in the New Testament when it says that Christ died "for" us. You're free to read some commentary on the use of the preposition and its meaning, along with some others.
The different words for forgive are also a powerful argument. CARIZOMAI is a verb of legal transaction, the satisfaction of a debt. AFIHMI, on the other hand, is a word of fellowship (it literally means "to send [something] away"), and so is used of a wife sending away her husband (1Co 7.13) and of God sending away our sin (1Jo 1.9).
There are others, but these will have to suffice for this hour. This is a subject sure to be revisited as I read more and acquire a better understanding of the other side.
Sunday, March 4, 2007
Abused Vocabulary
There are any number of abused vocabulary words in Christendom. Today's sermon inspired this posting by the pastor's interesting use of the word "world," as seen in first John. I want to make it clear as I write that I respect the man greatly, and I think he's a terrific teacher. We have our doctrinal differences, but I'm very pleased with his spirit and willingness to study the Word.1 So please don't take this as a harrangue against him; it's not.
The church is strongly against limited atonement (the doctrine that Jesus died especially for the elect), and they use 1 John 2.2 as evidence for their position.2 In this verse, they take the word "world" to mean "all men without exception."
The verse in question says, "And he is the propitiation for our sins: and not for ours only, but also for the sins of the whole world." Their interpretation of the verse is common, and I won't even say it's wrong. I simply want to point out an inconsistency in how the word is used.
This morning, we moved on, arriving shortly at verse 15: "Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him." In this case, the pastor exegeted the verse explicitly as a system. It's certainly true that words have many uses, and the word "world" is one such.
I'm trying to avoid falling into a linguistic trap here; I really do think that we can use the word world to speak of its inhabitants. But there are other meanings in Scripture, also, and perhaps more prominent.
The Greek word is KOSMOS. We take from it our words "cosmos" and "cosmetic." KOSMOS speaks to an ordered system, and so it is used of a woman adorning herself (1Pe 3.3), of the world in which we live (Jn 1.10), things of the world (Mk 8.36), philosophies and religions of the world (1Co 3.19; Ga 4.3,4; Co 2.8), and people in the world (Jn 7.7; the "world" cannot hate—people do).
With all of these meanings of the world, we can imagine that the issue is a bit more complicated than it would appear at first blush. The frustrating thing for me in this situation is that the nuances of the word aren't examined. Naturally part of this frustration stems from a doctrinal difference I have with the church, but I think the point is an important one nonetheless. Such vocabulary abuse is especially common with the word "saved," and it dramatically influences the way that people read the Word. If we're intent on reading "all men without exception" instead of carefully considering that the world is a religious system, for instance, we may find ourselves in a heap of exegetical trouble.
[1] Calvary Chapel describe themselves as the link between pentecostal and baptist theology. They are, if it's even possible, three point Calvinists (they do not hold to Limited Atonement or Irresistable Grace; in this, I think they're essentially Lutheran), and hold that the spiritual gifts are still present. I'm a cessationist and agree with Calvin on most things. Double predestination gives me fits some still.
[2] The real difficulty with this understanding is that it fails to really capture what we read of redemption in the parables of Matthew 13. The hunter buys the field (the world) to get the treasure (the elect) inside of it. We may understand, too, that part of redemption is a redemption of creation, as in Romans 8. I guess I don't really care much for CS Lewis' theology in the main, but he was spot on when he wrote, "The reason we loved the old Narnia so much is because it was a little like this" (The Last Battle).
It's also often argued that his death was enough for all and applied only to the elect. I tend to apply Romans 5 and other passages in the sense that Christ's death removed Adam's transgression from the race; in this sense, his death was universal.
The church is strongly against limited atonement (the doctrine that Jesus died especially for the elect), and they use 1 John 2.2 as evidence for their position.2 In this verse, they take the word "world" to mean "all men without exception."
The verse in question says, "And he is the propitiation for our sins: and not for ours only, but also for the sins of the whole world." Their interpretation of the verse is common, and I won't even say it's wrong. I simply want to point out an inconsistency in how the word is used.
This morning, we moved on, arriving shortly at verse 15: "Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him." In this case, the pastor exegeted the verse explicitly as a system. It's certainly true that words have many uses, and the word "world" is one such.
I'm trying to avoid falling into a linguistic trap here; I really do think that we can use the word world to speak of its inhabitants. But there are other meanings in Scripture, also, and perhaps more prominent.
The Greek word is KOSMOS. We take from it our words "cosmos" and "cosmetic." KOSMOS speaks to an ordered system, and so it is used of a woman adorning herself (1Pe 3.3), of the world in which we live (Jn 1.10), things of the world (Mk 8.36), philosophies and religions of the world (1Co 3.19; Ga 4.3,4; Co 2.8), and people in the world (Jn 7.7; the "world" cannot hate—people do).
With all of these meanings of the world, we can imagine that the issue is a bit more complicated than it would appear at first blush. The frustrating thing for me in this situation is that the nuances of the word aren't examined. Naturally part of this frustration stems from a doctrinal difference I have with the church, but I think the point is an important one nonetheless. Such vocabulary abuse is especially common with the word "saved," and it dramatically influences the way that people read the Word. If we're intent on reading "all men without exception" instead of carefully considering that the world is a religious system, for instance, we may find ourselves in a heap of exegetical trouble.
[1] Calvary Chapel describe themselves as the link between pentecostal and baptist theology. They are, if it's even possible, three point Calvinists (they do not hold to Limited Atonement or Irresistable Grace; in this, I think they're essentially Lutheran), and hold that the spiritual gifts are still present. I'm a cessationist and agree with Calvin on most things. Double predestination gives me fits some still.
[2] The real difficulty with this understanding is that it fails to really capture what we read of redemption in the parables of Matthew 13. The hunter buys the field (the world) to get the treasure (the elect) inside of it. We may understand, too, that part of redemption is a redemption of creation, as in Romans 8. I guess I don't really care much for CS Lewis' theology in the main, but he was spot on when he wrote, "The reason we loved the old Narnia so much is because it was a little like this" (The Last Battle).
It's also often argued that his death was enough for all and applied only to the elect. I tend to apply Romans 5 and other passages in the sense that Christ's death removed Adam's transgression from the race; in this sense, his death was universal.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Theology
I have come to realize that my inconsistency in writing here was mainly due to the fact that I am not much interested in politics, the news, or much else that invigorates the popular sphere. I am not gifted, as was Chesteron, I think, to have an opinion about everything. When I debate, it is usually about theology or grammar (and sometimes both).
As I have mentioned in the past, my background is basically Reformed, though I think I have been taught to emphasize the faithfulness of Jesus Christ substantially more than others. My theological coming of age coincided, not surprisingly, with the mental development that accompanies being a teenager, mainly with a series of sermons that went through Galatians verse by verse. This, incidentally, was also a healthy introduction to grammar.
My understanding of salvation, formed during this time, is usually somewhat different from those whom I have encountered online and at church. Salvation is pictured as a process in the New Testament, yet redemption a one-time occurrence. Most people use the word "saved" to mean "going to heaven," though I think this is probably not a precise use of the term (see, for example, 1Ti 2.15, 2Ti 4.16). I use the word "redeemed" instead.
Redemption—forgiveness purchased by the blood of Christ—has nothing to do with man's will or faith in Christ. It is, instead, purely a function of the faithfulness of Christ.
For a long time, my perspective of "free will" was basically the same as what is popularly espoused in the post-Enlightenment world—that is, that free will is the power of contrary choice. That free will so defined doesn't exist is patently obvious, something Edwards pointed out verbosely in Freedom of the Will. (Edwards, as far as I can tell, accepted that definition of free will.)
The Scriptures, I think, present the free will as a will capable of doing what is right; hence, prior to God working in us, we were "slaves of unrighteousness" (Ro 5). This is consistent with the Scriptures' representation of man dead in sin (Ga 5 and others) and resolves a surprising number of problems (in my head, anyway; YMMV).
I think these two points serve as a relatively quick introduction to ways in which my theology is probably different than is typically expressed. Should I write more, the entries will considerably less introspective and probably not as nice.
As I have mentioned in the past, my background is basically Reformed, though I think I have been taught to emphasize the faithfulness of Jesus Christ substantially more than others. My theological coming of age coincided, not surprisingly, with the mental development that accompanies being a teenager, mainly with a series of sermons that went through Galatians verse by verse. This, incidentally, was also a healthy introduction to grammar.
My understanding of salvation, formed during this time, is usually somewhat different from those whom I have encountered online and at church. Salvation is pictured as a process in the New Testament, yet redemption a one-time occurrence. Most people use the word "saved" to mean "going to heaven," though I think this is probably not a precise use of the term (see, for example, 1Ti 2.15, 2Ti 4.16). I use the word "redeemed" instead.
Redemption—forgiveness purchased by the blood of Christ—has nothing to do with man's will or faith in Christ. It is, instead, purely a function of the faithfulness of Christ.
For a long time, my perspective of "free will" was basically the same as what is popularly espoused in the post-Enlightenment world—that is, that free will is the power of contrary choice. That free will so defined doesn't exist is patently obvious, something Edwards pointed out verbosely in Freedom of the Will. (Edwards, as far as I can tell, accepted that definition of free will.)
The Scriptures, I think, present the free will as a will capable of doing what is right; hence, prior to God working in us, we were "slaves of unrighteousness" (Ro 5). This is consistent with the Scriptures' representation of man dead in sin (Ga 5 and others) and resolves a surprising number of problems (in my head, anyway; YMMV).
I think these two points serve as a relatively quick introduction to ways in which my theology is probably different than is typically expressed. Should I write more, the entries will considerably less introspective and probably not as nice.
Friday, March 24, 2006
The Cure for the Modern Cynic
So it begins. I think it behooves me to begin with the beginning, to explain a bit of my reason for writing and my own background. With any fortune, someone who starts here will have a good idea of whether he or she wants to read any further.
The inspiration for this blog comes mostly from reading. I read and enjoy the work of G.K. Chesterton, C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, Czeslaw Milosz, and many others. I also occasionally read (and enjoy somewhat less) newspaper editorials, Google News, political commentary, and the like. I am writing, perhaps, mostly because I do not wish to become like the cynics I often see every day.
I am Christian, Reformed by persuasion. While I do not intend to write (very much) about theology, I am sure it informs my opinions. Those who think Christians cannot be right should probably not read much further unless you are willing to read things that you don't like. But please don't accuse me of not showing my hand before I write.
This is my first attempt at really writing for the public forum; I hope you'll forgive freshman mistakes, and allow me a bit of latitude. We are human, and we change. We grow, both in stature and age, and hopefully in wisdom. And should my opinions change, I hope it is due to the last.
The inspiration for this blog comes mostly from reading. I read and enjoy the work of G.K. Chesterton, C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, Czeslaw Milosz, and many others. I also occasionally read (and enjoy somewhat less) newspaper editorials, Google News, political commentary, and the like. I am writing, perhaps, mostly because I do not wish to become like the cynics I often see every day.
I am Christian, Reformed by persuasion. While I do not intend to write (very much) about theology, I am sure it informs my opinions. Those who think Christians cannot be right should probably not read much further unless you are willing to read things that you don't like. But please don't accuse me of not showing my hand before I write.
This is my first attempt at really writing for the public forum; I hope you'll forgive freshman mistakes, and allow me a bit of latitude. We are human, and we change. We grow, both in stature and age, and hopefully in wisdom. And should my opinions change, I hope it is due to the last.
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