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)?

Belief and Behavior

I had a conversation in a hallway at the Presbytery meeting at Grand Lakes Presbyterian, last Saturday. An acquaintance of some years, no longer in our area, buttonholed me to let me know that he'd come to a decision. He'd come to believe that it is possible for a person to hold two beliefs at the same time: that Jesus Christ is Lord; and, that same-sex relations are not outside God's plan for His people. He went on to tell me that the main reason for his coming to this conclusion was that he had been visiting a number of churches, that he had found conservative congregations to be unwelcoming, and that he had seen the work of Christ being done in more progressive congregations. In particular, he had been impressed by work being done with the homeless in one very liberal congregation. He wasn't being argumentative, he just wanted to let me know that he had had a change of opinion. In the few minutes that were available I tried to sketch out a reply. If I'd had longer (and hadn't had bronchitis) I'd have elaborated in the following ways.

First, there is no a priori reason why you can't hold those two beliefs at the same time. Many do. They are not, in and of themselves mutually exclusive. However, when you take the implications of the first belief seriously, then it becomes much more difficult to hold the second.

Acceptance of the lordship of Christ is not simply intellectual assent, as if it could be given in a vacuum. My belief in the lordship of Christ is not the same as my belief that gravity exists on Mars. An acknowledgement of Christ's lordship (when it is personalized) has very clear implications regarding the way in which I live my life. Right belief (orthodoxy) is closely related to right behavior (orthopraxy). There are, as far as I am aware, no moral implications resulting from a belief in gravity on Mars; but there obviously are implications for my life if I accept that Jesus Christ is my Lord. I can accept that lordship and continue in behaviors that do not honor Him, but that does not make the behaviors right or acceptable, it simply makes me disobedient.

Second, what is really at stake is the question of how I know what God expects of me. That is, how do I know the moral requirements that are mine when once I acknowledge the lordship of Christ. It's a question of epistemology - how do I know what I know? For Christians, the answer must always include God's self-revelation, interpreted by the Holy Spirit, which we know as the Bible. We give content to the notion of Christ's lordship as we understand it within the context of salvation history as revealed in Scripture. Traditionally, Presbyterians have said that the Bible is without error in all matters pertaining to faith and life. That is, when the Bible tells us that God is love, for example, it is impossible for that affirmation to be false. God has not given us a faulty revelation. The Bible is to be trusted. Therefore, we should trust that the Bible gives us reliable information, not only about the nature and character of God, but also about the way in which He wants us to live our lives. To take a non-controversial example, when the Bible says that the Lord requires of us that we should do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God (Micah 6:8), then it is not possible for the Bible to be in error. God has revealed what He wants from us.

So why do we question revelation with regard to same-sex behavior? Despite the verbal and hermeneutical gymnastics of some commentators, the Bible is actually pretty clear (see I Corinthians 6:9-11, for example). It seems to me that the difference is that with regard to justice, the Bible agrees with popular culture, whereas with regard to homosexuality, it does not. The over-riding motivation, therefore, seems to be less about compliance with Scriptural norms, and more about accommodation to societal mores.

Third, it's dangerous to take human experience as the determinant of truth. It's surely regrettable that my friend's experience of conservative congregations should have been that they are more judgmental and less welcoming. Nevertheless, experience alone should not lead to the conclusion that one is right (progressive/liberal) and that one is wrong (conservative/evangelical). I firmly believe that we have a responsibility to welcome all people into the local church, we should be radically inclusive (to steal a descriptor that has been purloined by liberalism); but it is not our business to then accommodate biblical truth in order to fit cultural expectations. In fact that is not the loving thing to do. Love does not wink at error, it confronts it. No, for us, experience is always secondary. Our primary source for making sense of God's way with the world is always revelation. If we move our feet from that rock, we end up putting our trust in a foundation of shifting sand.

Unbinding the Gospel

I was asked by Presbytery to consider participating in a study of Martha Grace Reese's Unbinding the Gospel, published by Chalice (2007). The book is part of a series with the admirable aim of galvanizing the mainline church to engage in evangelism. So, I thought I'd better read it.

Presbytery's idea is that pastors and leaders from a number of churches would covenant together to read the book, and apply findings. It's quite a big undertaking, not unlike Stan Ott's Acts 16:5 Initiative that some of us went through a few years ago. We would examine our structure and practices, then hold one another accountable as we implemented change. Good idea, if we had a common theological understanding of the nature of the Gospel.

Here's my review.

I would like to address a couple of theological issues that make me hesitate to support the idea.
First, the book is obviously written for liberal churches. Reese can say as often as she likes that her findings cut across the theological spectrum, but that doesn't affect the fact that her audience does not really include me. How do I know this? For a start, her research specifically excluded the South, and churches that she considered to be Evangelical (p.28). (At least she maintains the distinction between Evangelical and evangelistic). On page 63, she has a telling summary of what she thinks an Evangelical is, when she comments that many mainline pastors aren't all that sure what they believe, except they know that they "aren't evangelical" (meaning "not biblical literalists"). That is, I'm afraid, a pathetically inadequate definition of an Evangelical. A better one can be found in the rationale of the Evangelical Alliance (see below). There are several places where Reese falls into the trap of patronising those who disagree with her, theologically. She assumes that mainline Christians are "clear, logical thinkers" (p.19), and quotes, approvingly, a person who equates intellectual Christians with those who are intelligent and liberal (p.82). On several occasions she talks about avoiding naivete in prayer (e.g. p.42), which I can only take to mean the childlike prayer of someone who actually regards the Bible to be true. She quotes a mainline pastor who had been raised in what she describes as a fundamentalist church, who hadn't believed or preached that people are going to hell for thirty years, who speaks condescendingly of looking where a seminarian interested in evangelism had parked his tractor (p.17). Whether or not you agree with her, it's impossible not to suspect that at least some people in our Presbytery will find such comments offensive. If, as she assumes, thinking Christians don't believe in hell (by the way, I do), surely someone is bound to ask why we say every week, in the Apostles' Creed, that Jesus went there. In brief, the book could end up opening a theological can of worms.
Secondly, I find that Reese has very little to say about the atonement. Right at the end of the book, she finally gets around to asking what it is that Jesus saves us from. She has three alternatives: sin, death, and distorted human community (p.144). Occasionally she mentions the possibility of heaven (eg. p.119) but I have no idea what she means by this. At the beginning of the book she points out that some pastors and churches avoid evangelism because they don't want to give the impression that there are not other, valid ways to God, beside the Christian way. ""I don't think we should do evangelism - it implies other religions are wrong." (p.11). Admittedly this is a quotation, but if she wants people like me to work with those who hold such opinions, then she will have to explain what we have in common. 'Precious little' would be my best guess. Reese even says that "Evangelism has no theological bounds" (p.6). But it must have some foundation. Without at least a minimal understanding of the cross, we will be sharing techniques, not faith.
Having said all this, I appreciate many of the other things she has to say. I like her emphasis on sharing the joy of the Christian life through relationships, and her insistence upon the importance of community; I have rarely seen a book on evangelism that takes prayer so seriously; she is helpful when she expalins the bandwidths of evangelism, encouraging us to grasp the opportunities that are close at hand; I also really appreciate her insistence that God is our North Star, our fixed point of reference, not the church (p.125). She makes a number of excellent, practical suggestions. But the fact is that she also comes out with comments like this: "You do not need to subscribe wholeheartedly to someone's theology to ask them to pray with you and for your ministry. If you get advice that seems strange, remember that learning about new areas of the faith is like eating fish. Eat what is good and spit out the bones." (p.53). I want to ask, "What are the bones that you want to spit out?" They may be everything that I hold most dear.
Of course, the real question is, what will we do about evangelism if we don't do this? That is a question that will keep me awake, if we decide not to participate in the programme. I just hope that churches and pastors will not find, in this book, yet another reason to avoid the E word.

Peace Posts and all that jazz

I must confess to being bothered by the description of the erection and dedication of a peace pole at St. Helena's First Presbyterian Church (Presbyweb, July 12, 2007).
According to http://www.worldpeace.org/ "A Peace Pole is a hand-crafted monument that displays the message and prayer 'May Peace Prevail on Earth' on each of its four or six sides, usually in different languages. There are more than 200,000 Peace Poles in 180 countries all over the world dedicated as monuments to peace. They serve as constant reminders for us to visualize and pray for world peace."
Here's my question:
In what sense are the words a prayer?
The Larger Catechism tells us (Q.178) that "Prayer is an offering up of our desires unto God, in the name of Christ, by the help of His Spirit, with confession of our sins, and thankful acknowledgement of His mercies." Question 179 adds that prayer is to be made "to Him alone, and to none other." The Heidelberg Confession adds that prayer which pleases God is that which "calls upon the one true God, who has revealed Himself to us in His Word..." (Q.117). To whom is the peace prayer addressed? The answer is far from clear.
It wouldn't matter so much if the pole was not planted in a church yard. But, since it is on Presbyterian property, shouldn't there be some way to put the prayer, or at least the pole, in the context of a Christocentric faith? It bothers me even more to learn that the dedication of the pole included readings from non-Christian scriptures.
I wonder what message we give, intentionally or otherwise, when, even on church property, we fail to offer prayer in the name of Christ, who is our Peace (Ephesians 2:14).

Lessons from Revolutionary France

I've been reading Rodney Allen's fascinating book "Threshold of Terror." It's about the last hours of the Monarchy at the time of the French Revolution, specifically, the attack on the Tuileries on August 10, 1792.
To be perfectly honest, the search for the truth, behind the "he said...he said" supposedly eye witness accounts is not always rivetting, except in as much as it demonstrates a continuing belief in absolute reality which is unusual nowadays. (I grow tired of being told that history is always written from someone's perspective, and that truth is, therefore, always relative to one's point of view). One of the enduring questions about the fight that began on the grand staircase of the palace, for example, has always been "Who fired first?" Was it the insurgents, under the sans-coulotte General Santerre, or was it the Swiss Guards, sworn to protect the King? It's refreshing to hear Allen say that, although differing reports were given from all sides, SOMEONE must have fired first! Hallelujah! Absolute history exists.
This means, of course, that we are not necessarily dinosaurs when we say, "Christ has died. Christ is risen." We are also claiming that truth exists. It is not mere wishful thinking to proclaim the bodily resurrection of Christ, as if it was just "truefor us." Something happened in the Garden Tomb on the third day. It is not just a matter of perspective; that's why we are bold to proclaim - as history - an empty cross, an empty tomb, and a risen Savior.
One other point from this book bears mentioning. There is a lengthy discusssion of the overthrow of the legally elected Municipal General Council of Paris by the radicals under Huguenin, claiming to represent the People. It's clear that the slowness of the Council and its ponderous attention to procedure, allowed it to be outmanouevered and manipulated by the Jacobins. In the end, the moderate middle was far too timid to uphold the Constitution. They became mere marionettes, dancing to the beat of the revolutionary drum, until they became expendable. The radicals used legal language to dress up their illegal acts, and they did not stop until they got their way. They had another agenda, and they were singleminded in pursuing it, then in enforcing it with threats. Eventually, even the National Assembly was bullied into inactivity; those who opposed signed their own death warrants.
Now, I'm not suggesting that Madame Guillotine is lurking for those who oppose the radicalism so beloved of the extreme left in the PC(USA), but I believe the example does demonstrate that, unless the Constitution is defended vigorously, it will end up being abused by those with their own agenda. The radicals of revolutionary France had no intention of obeying the Constitution, they merely wanted to use it for their own ends. I fear that the extreme left of the Presbyterian Church has as little regard for our Constitution, and that they will not rest until they have bent it to their will.
Presbuteros