Death of a Denomination. Part 3.

I've been making my way, painfully, through a copy of the May 2009 issue of Reform, the national magazine of the United Reformed Church in the United Kingdom. Having trained at Westminster College, Cambridge, and having served in the URC for ten years, I have a certain affection for my old denomination. But, having been away for sixteen years I can see how the URC has changed. I believe it has moved even further away from its roots.

One of the articles in Reform is entitled "Leave Behind Childish Things." Written by Dave Tomlinson, and based upon his book Re-enchanting Christianity, the article encourages church members to deconstruct their faith, and to reject those parts they don't like. Only then can the journey of rediscovery begin. "Reinterpreting the Christian faith requires us to abandon forever the notion that being faithful to the gospel means preserving doctrinal purity," writes Tomlinson. He then procedes to re-think the virgin birth, the atonement, the resurrection, and eternal life. His approach is clearly universalist; he has no time for either the concept of eternal bliss for the redeemed or eternal condemnation for the damned. "The injustice and grotesqueness of this outlook appears utterly absurd to many people today," he writes. Tomlinson also departs from historic Christianity in his interpretation of the person and work of Christ. "Jesus did not know everything - of course he didn't! Jesus made judgements that were less than perfect - of course he did! Jesus believed things about the world and the universe that we now know to be untrue - of course he did! He was a first century man... Never-the-less, in a decisive way - in and through his humanity - the character of God was manifested in Jesus of Nazareth. And this is what the incarnation proclaims: God inhabiting human life, without in any way violating or abrogating human nature." Tomlinson displays a classic, liberal understanding of the ontology of faith: "For Christians, divine revelation is not finally in a text, a creed or a set of dogmas, but in a person; not in words, but in a living Word."

Dave Tomlinson is perfectly entitled to his opinions, but I don't know how he can pretend that they come even close to traditional Christianity. He may claim the name, but to do so he has to redefine its content to such a degree that the name, like the word, becomes devoid of meaning. I may call my dog a cat as much as I like, and complain about the limitations of language; but until he starts 'meowing' I'll keep on calling him a dog.

Back in the mists of time, when the URC had some sense of itself as a church in the tradition of the Reformation, it understood what it meant to be Christian. There is even a confession of faith in the URC Service Book, taken from the Manual. It reads, "We believe that God, in his infinite love for all, gave his eternal Son, Jesus Christ our Lord, who became man, lived on earth in perfect love and obedience, died upon the cross for our sins, rose again from the dead, and lives for evermore, saviour, judge, and king." Is this the childishness that must be abandonned if one is to reimagine faith? If so, what are candidates for the ministry to be taught, and what should they teach once they are ordained? Environmentalism? Is that the best they can come up with?

Tomlinson's vision is simply a rehashing of ancient heresy. The Ebionites wanted Jesus as Messiah but they didn't want to call him divine. Their beliefs (curiously close to those later propagated by Islam) were rejected by orthodox Christians. Arius made the same mistake, as did the Nestorians and the Socinians. All of them failed to grasp the divinity of Christ, refusing to accept that, in Him, "the fulness of the Deity lives in bodily form" (Colossians 2:9). Placing human reason above divine revelation, they judged both Scripture and Christ. Their modern equivalents are the unitarians, whose beliefs are similarly far removed from the historic tenets of the faith.

When did the URC become unitarian? When did universalism take the place of particular redemption? And when did it become acceptable for the official publication of the denomination to be used to destroy the beliefs unpon which that denomination was founded? No wonder the church is dying. What good news is there left to proclaim?

Tomlinson's article can be found at www.urc.org.uk/What_we_do/Communications/reform/09/may/leave_behind_childish_things

Death of a Denomination Part 1

A few weeks ago, when we were back in England, my mother gave me a copy of 'Reform', the national magazine of the United Reformed Church, my old denomination. It disturbed me no end. Over the next couple of weeks I'd like to extract a few sections from the magazine and discuss how things seem to have changed.

First, a word of background. The United Reformed Church is a union of Congregationalists and Presbyterians. I remember watching the service of union in the 1970's on a television at the front of the church I grew up in (very daring at that time - quite an innovation). It was never a big denomination, but it represented the historic Reformed witness in England and Wales (it has since united with Scottish Congregationalists, so now has a presence north of the border). The URC came into existence during the rising tide of ecumenism that swept British church life in the 60's and 70's. The expressed aim of the denomination was the visible unity of the church. Although its leaders had drunk deeply at the wells of Protestant liberalism, the church was still fairly orthodox. Many of the little churches and chapels that dotted the landscape were actually quite evangelical. They were the inheritors of Victorian non-conformity: decent people who loved their church and were not afraid to sing, with gusto, the hymns of Wesley and Watts. Some of those places of worship had been in existence since the expulsion of Puritan clergy from the Church of England in 1666. I remember preaching in a thatched chapel in one of the villages near Cambridge, in the early 1980's. The heritage of faith within those walls was almost tangible. Simple faith bowed its head before the mystery of the incarnation; the Bible was handled with reverence; Christ was glorified.

Increasingly, however, over the years, the leadership of the denomination became more and more liberal. In my experience, the local churches remained traditional. But at the national level, decisions were taken that moved the church more in the direction of the United Church of Christ in the United States. In fact, looking at denominational publications nowadays, the influence of the UCC is obvious. There has been a subtle reversal of accepted values. Justice issues and environmentalism seem to have taken the place of the proclamation of salvation.

In her editorial in the May 2009 issue of 'Reform', Kay Parris tells the story of a visiting preacher coming to her local URC. Apparently, the man did not understand the culture or theology of this local church. He spoke up against evolution, the "gay lobby", and the "Muslim lobby". He congratulated them for standing up for what they believed in.

One man stood up and, with his teenage daughter, left the building. Others remained, "paralyzed by a blend of horrified fascination, social conditioning and the knowledge that the respected member who had invited this man to our church had done so in good faith." After the service, no one shook his hand or thanked him for his message. Parris was appalled by what she had heard. The man's attitudes, she said, could explain why people might want to annul their baptism or refuse a visit by a hospital chaplain. "Surely a progressive denomination like the URC needs to take opportunities to explain publicly what it is not, as an essential aspect of promoting what it is."

Frankly, I'm appalled, not by the visiting preacher but by the reception he received. When did the URC announce that it is a progressive denomination? Who made the announcement? When did the inheritors of a muscular faith decide to become limp-wristed? Has the lamp-stand been removed? And what do we learn from these changes about what may lay in the future for the Presbyterian Church (USA)?

The Smell of Sawdust

I'm coming to appreciate the helpful and urbane writings of Richard Mouw, President of Fuller Seminary. I met Richard Mouw at the General Assembly in 2006. Since then I've read several of his books. Last week I picked up "The Smell of Sawdust," which bears the subtitle 'What Evangelicals Can Learn from Their Fundamentalist Heritage.' This well-written little book, with many autobiographical details, pays tribute to the Fundamentalism in which Mouw was raised.
During the Fundamentalist/Modernist controversy of the early decades of the twentieth century, those who held to a traditional, orthodox form of Protestant Christianity rallied around five fundamentals:
- the Virgin Birth of Jesus;
- His full divinity;
- the blood sacrifice of His atoning work;
- the bodily resurrection of Jesus;
- the hope of His Second Coming.
As a Reformed evangelical, Mouw holds firmly to these beliefs. He also looks back, wistfully, to the pietism that produced such intense personal devotion. He remembers, with affection, the smell of the sawdust trail, the excitement of the tent meeting where evangelists preached, with absolute conviction, for decisions for Christ. Mouw also acknowledges the fairness of some of the criticisms commonly leveled against revivalist Fundamentalism - that it was anti-intellectual, otherworldly, and separatistic in spirit. Nevertheless, Mouw also asserts the value of a call to personal conviction. If Fundamentalism laid too much emphasis upon the self and not enough upon social responsibility, too much upon emotion and not enough upon the intellect, then at least some Christians today are guilty of exactly the opposite.
Mouw wends his way through many of the subjects on which traditional Fundamentalists and Fuller-type evangelicals tend to disagree. He deals with Roman Catholicism, Dispensationalism, Evangelism, Israel, and political involvement. For almost all, Mouw has both a telling anecdote and a quotation from a hymn. He has a very relaxed, non-threatening, engaging style. He could be passing the time of day with you, perhaps sitting in a rocker on a porch, cradling a cup of coffee. He does his level best to present every position in the best possible light, even when he disagrees. He tries to understand why Christians disagree. For example, the chapter on Catholicism explains the tension between an emphasis upon conversion and an emphasis upon the enduring community of the church. Mouw's irenic spirit certainly gives an excellent illustration of how we may enter into respectful, constructive dialog with those with whom we disagree. He is not threatened by argument; neither is he ashamed of the convictions that are dear to him.
Towards the end of the book, Mouw admits that what he really longs for, in his recollection of his Fundamentalist upbringing, is the recovery of a second naivete. He is not interested in attempting to recover the first naivete, which is ignorant of the questions. Rather, he wants to develop a second naivete - a simple faith that sees, beyond the questions, an uncomplicated relationship with the God who calls us to be His own. This faith is not afraid to stand up to Bill Maher's anti-religious ranting and to answer, not with the cultic obscurantism of Fundamentalism, or the thinly-veiled nihilism of Protestant liberalism, but with confidence in the revelation of God in Jesus Christ.
Richard Mouw is a Presbyterian. His book reminds me of the urgent task that Presbyterian evangelicals must embrace. It is our responsibility to state and reclaim the essential tenets that lie at the heart of the Reformed faith, not in order that we might slip back into Billy Sunday Fundamentalism, but so that we might be able to express, in clear and compelling ways, those simple yet profound truths that make us who we are.