Essence and Energies

Western Christianity has a two-fold distinction by which it classifies all of reality. Either something is part of the divine essence, and thus fully God, or it is part of creaturely reality, and thus not God. This distinction seems to be quite important to maintain since Scripture teaches that God is transcendent and completely "other" from the rest of his creation. One's options become extremely limited, however, when for example Peter tells us that we as Christians are "partakers of the divine nature" (II Peter 1:4). How ought we classify this "nature" that we are partaking of? Forcing one to choose whether we partake of God's essence or not has lead to two extremes: either God is totally inaccessible (hyper-transcendence) or he is part of creation after all (hyper-immanence). Typically, the latter option is taken leading to such notions as divinization, where we as creatures become divine, or pantheism, where God is becomes part of creation.   

Michael Horton has found in Eastern theology a helpful solution to this conundrum. Of the two-fold distinction which I mentioned, Eastern Christianity has always had a third option, that is, the energies of God.  Divine energies are God's words and works whereby he interacts with his creatures. They are not part of God's hidden essence nor are they simply part of his creation, but as the rays from the sun are not part of the sun itself nor part of the world it's illuminating, so also God's energies deserve their own classification. Furthermore, the East has been careful to maintain that we as Christians do not experience God according to his essence, but rather, through his energies. Thus his power, love, glory and grace... are what we partake of and know, not his very essence. God reveals himself to us through his energies.

Reformed theology shares this notion with its emphasis upon the covenant. It teaches that God has chosen to interact with his creatures only by way of covenants and thus we as his people know God through his words (oaths, promises, commands, threatenings, consolations, etc.) and his works (creation, preservation, redemption, etc.). We do not and cannot know God according to his essence, but rather what he has revealed to us about himself (Duet 29:29). God is with us in that he is God for us, the God-in-action who is moving redemptive history along. 

Be good for goodness sake?

It's amazing to me how embedded the notion of meritorious deeds is in our society. It is held by almost anyone you meet that if you do what is good, then good things will happen to you, but if you do bad things, then you better watch out. This seems to fit very well with what Paul says concerning the law of God being written on the hearts of unbelievers. Perhaps this notion is no more clearly seen than during the holiday season when people inevitably reflect upon how well they behaved themselves this year and how much better they would like to do the next. Even our children are nor spared from this principle of the lex talionis ("law of retribution") when they are told that Santa has a list that he's checking twice to find out whose been naughty or nice.  Thankfully, the gospel tells us that Christ has come and lived a perfect life of obedience in our place and through his death and resurrection, has obtained for us the forgiveness of sins and everlasting righteousness. No longer do we as Christians strive to do good works in order to obtain our salvation, but we do good for gratitude's sake, showing our thankfulness for what Christ has done. This is how it must be because we all deserve much worse than just a lump of coal in our stocking.

What do the gospel and In-n-out Burger have in common?

Besides having "John 3:16" printed on the bottom of their cups, the Gospel and In-n-out Burger are similar in that they do not change.  This is something I appreciate every week at church as I hear the preaching of the gospel as well as when I enjoy a tasty burger (which I do at least once a week).  The thing is, when you have a good product, there's no need to modify it in order to increase its sales.  Typically fast food chains will come out with a "new" item about every six months or so that sounds and looks good, but hardly ever lasts.  For example, the other day I tried Taco Bell's new "fully loaded nachos," and not only was my first chip completely devoid of any of the nacho toppings, but it was also overpriced (30 cents extra for jalapenos!) and not even as good as the classic "nacho supreme." But I'm sure Taco Bell execs already know this and they know that these nachos won't last long, but are only good for a quick buck.  One can find obvious parallels of this in the way that seeker and emergent churches adopt any number of "new" programs, styles, agendas, practices, etc. to stay "relevant"  and to gain new followers.  I am not suggesting that every one of these church leaders are conscientiously engaged in crass marketing techniques, but the shallowness in many churches is undeniable. I love the fact that the liturgy we use in our church is essentially the same as that of Calvin's and the Reformers, and theirs was a conscience reproduction of the ones used in the early church.  That being said, I think I'll go get a burger.

God Does What He Says

It may seem a bit obvious to you, but one of the major "findings" in what is known as Speech/Act theory is that we do things when we speak.  Speech involves more than just sound utterances proceeding from someone's mouth, but it is a complex and powerful medium that includes both the speaker as well as the hearer. Scholars have divided a speech/act into three parts: the first, known as the locutionary act, is the act of speaking itself. For example, someone performing the speech/act of warning others about a fire in a theater.  The next part of speech is known as the illocutionary act.  This is the content of the speaking, that is, what it is the speaker says.  In our example, it would be the word, "Fire!" Lastly, there is the perlocutionary act. This is the effect or result of the speech/act.  Someone yelling "Fire!" in a crowded theater would no doubt result in people quickly evacuating the building. 

Theologians have sought to use these categories in their understanding of Scripture. For example, since all the acts of God are Trinitarian in nature (each member doing His respective part), it seems helpful to view the Father as the one performing the locutionary act, the Son (the Word) performs the illocutionary act, and the Spirit bringing about what is spoken in the perlocutionary act.  This notion is nothing new. Look, for example, at the Belgic Confession of Faith, written in 1561:

The Father is the cause, origin, and source of all things, visible as well as invisible. The Son is the Word, the Wisdom, and the image of the Father. The Holy Spirit is the eternal power and might, proceeding from the Father and the Son.

Biblically, this is clearly seen in the act of creation. The Father said "Let there be...", the Son, through whom he made all things, was the content spoken ("The Word" cf. John 1:1-3), and it was the Spirit who was "hovering over the waters," bringing about that which was spoken (Gen 1:2).  With this in mind, we see along with the Ancient church's analogy, that the Son and the Spirit are "the two hands" of the Father. Thus we see that everything the Father does, it is through the Son, by the Spirit.

Michael Horton, in his book Covenant and Salvation, seeks to apply this communicative model to the act of justification. Taking the traditional distinction of the "external" and "internal call" of the gospel, he posits that the external call involves the Father speaking (locution) the content (illocution) of the gospel, which is the Son, to all the world. And the internal call is where the Spirit brings about the results (perlocution) of that word spoken in the lives of the elect by his regenerating power. Thus, the verdict of justification does what it says. When God declares us "righteous" it is not because of any inherent righteousness of our own, for God "justifies the ungodly" (Rom 4:5). But, just as He spoke the world into existence ex nihilo, so also he "calls into existence the things that do not exist," (4:17) i.e. our righteousness. 

This way of understanding justification further bolsters the doctrine of salvation by grace alone, since it insists that God's speech/act is not based upon any inherent or infused righteousness or moral abilities in the sinner. Also seeing God's sovereign act of salvation in this communicative model may also help our Arminian brothers understand what we mean when we suggest that God works sovereignly, however not by brute force, as if we were inanimate objects, but spoken to as humans with creaturely integrity.  

The office of Deacon

In Acts 6 we are told that the early church in Jerusalem was increasing in numbers, but as numbers increased, so did certain problems. Apparently the Greek-speaking widows were being discriminated against and the Hebrew widows were receiving special treatment. The apostles deemed this an important matter, but they did not want to neglect their primary calling of prayer and ministry of the word, so we find them choosing seven men to serve in this task of overseeing the distribution of material gifts for those in need. Here we find, in all likelihood, the formation of the diaconate. Some scholars suggest that because Steven and Philip later engage in preaching that we have some other temporary office being established here, but I do not find that persuasive. 

The Greek word diakonos simply means "servant" or "minister"and sometimes it is properly translated that way. But we also find also in the New Testament the office of "the deacons" mentioned along with "the elders" (Phil 1:1, I Tim 3). The duties of a deacon consist in insuring that the material needs of the church are met. The Lord not only wills that his people be ministered to in their spiritual needs but also our physical needs as well. James reminds his readers that pure and undefiled religion is caring for orphans and widows (1:27). He also questions the authenticity of one's faith if they ignore a fellow believer who is poorly clothed or lacking in daily food (2:15-17). At the end of his letter to the Galatians, Paul instructs his readers to "do good to everyone" as they have opportunity, "especially," he adds, "to those who are of the household of faith" (6:10).

This command of the apostle to give "special treatment" to Christians brings up an interesting question concerning the duties of deacons. Does the New Testament give any instructions for deacons to engage in their official ministry outside of the church. In other words, is it part of the ministry of a deacon to oversee a soup kitchen or relief organization or hospital? Now, let me be clear, I am not speaking of the obligations of individual Christians who have the opportunity to do good, certainly, we ought to help others, no matter who they are, because they are made in the image of God. However, when we seek to determine from the New Testament what it is that deacons, in their official calling, ought to spend their precious time and resources on, I personally do not see any warrant to go outside of the household of faith. To further support my thesis, when we do see churches in the New Testament donate to the needs outside of their local congregation, they raise money for other churches, as is the case for the donation to the poor Christians in Jerusalem. As Christians living in one of the most materially blessed nations on earth, we ought to be mindful of our millions of brothers and sisters in the Lord who live in abject poverty around the world. 

The Office of Elder

In Acts 15 we find a description of the Jerusalem Council, the fist synod of the Church. It was regarding the issue of Gentiles and whether circumcision should be required of them to join the covenant people of God.  After speeches given by Peter, Paul and James, the council unanimously agreed that Gentiles ought not be circumcised and affirmed the doctrine of justification by faith alone. In Luke's telling of the event, however, we find an odd thing. No less than six times, we read that the ones who were making the binding decision upon the entire church were "the apostles and the elders" (15:2, 4, 6, 22, 23; 16:4). If ever there was a time in the history of the church where the church of Christ could be led by only a select few, it was the age of the apostles.  What we find, however, is that even those who were given a special commission by the risen Lord himself, and thus possessed unparalleled authority, felt it necessary to include "elders" in even the most important of their decisions. 

An obvious question can be asked, where did these "elders" originate from? Unlike what we find in Acts 6, which describes the origin of the office of deacon, there is no New Testament scene which tells of the beginning  of the office of elder. That is because they were there all along. What I mean to say, is that the covenant people of God were never without those who fulfilled the role of "elder of the people." In the Old Testament, we read of the  zaqen ("elder") who because of his maturity and status was given unique authority over the covenant people (e.g. Num 11).  Therefore, arguing from the fact that there is indeed continuity between the Old and New Testament people of God, we see the infant church adopted the same office of elder in a natural and organic way. There is, however, one major difference between the duties of elder in the OT versus that in the NT. The Israelites were  unique in the fact that their religious life were one and the same with their social and political life ("cult" and "culture" were the same). In the New Testament, however, we read that Christ's kingdom is not of this world, therefore, the office of elder no longer holds any political power, but rather is to focus upon the spiritual well-being of the church. One may contrast, for example, the corrupt Jewish "elders" in Acts who used their political authority to persecute the early church (4:5, 8, 23) with those who are later appointed to lead in each congregation (14:23). 

Clearly, the model of church government  as it is presented in Acts and the rest of the New Testament is not a "one-man show." Ironically, in our day, many churches that heavily emphasize the discontinuity between Old and New Testament, nevertheless, find their model of church government in the OT. Misapplying the so-called "Moses model," their churches are often led by the absolute power of the senior pastor. All decisions are ultimately made by the one charismatic leader because he allegedly is a "man of God" and accountable to Christ alone. There's only one problem with this scenario (actually, there are many)...we're not Moses.  No one living today possess the unique authority and special revelation that he had (see Num 12 and Duet 18). But even Moses knew that he could not do it alone, he appointed seventy elders to possess real authority and decision making abilities (not just "yes men").  When I was first joining a Reformed church, it was during a time when the well-loved and  respected minister was retiring. He assured us new members, however, not to fret because it wasn't his church anyways, after all, the elders weren't going anywhere. 

Three Offices

As you may have already heard, my friend Rev. Shane Lems was able to install an elder and deacon in Sunnyside, WA this past Sunday and thus his church plant became an organized church in the United Reformed Churches federation. Shane was a year ahead of me at Westminster Seminary and the amount of study and effort he put into seminary was nothing short of prolific.  Dubbed "Shane the Machine" by his fellow class mates, he regularly finished all of his papers before the semester even began (I was lucky to even get started the week they were due)! By the time everyone was cramming for finals, he was cruising around with the lasted Bavinck volume, reading just "for fun." But as we celebrate with our brother at the fruit of his labors, it may be helpful to pause and consider Biblically, the significance of this event.  

While Reformed theology has not made a proper church government part of the "essence" (esse) of the church, it certainly has affirmed that it is part of its "well being" (bene esse). In opposition to the hierarchy of Rome, as well as the radical anti-clerical stance of the Anabaptists, the Reformers sought to Biblically define a church government that was neither purely hierarchical nor egalitarian. The Belgic Confession of Faith, for example, states that according to the "spiritual polity which our Lord has taught us," there are three offices in the church: minister, elder and deacon (art. 30).  While there are differences of opinion over the exact number of offices in Reformed churches (for example, the PCA has the so called "two and a half" view), when compared to what is seen either in Rome or in broader Evangelicalism (their structures are strikingly similar) the differences are minute. 

In Romans 10, Paul is speaking about the message concerning "the righteousness based on faith" which declares that "whoever calls upon the name of the Lord will  be saved" (v. 13) His logic is simple, yet its impact is often overlooked; he reasons in verse 14: "How are they going to call on him whom they haven't believed? How are they going to believe whom they haven't heard? How are they going to hear unless one preaches? How are they going to preach unless their sent?" Paul speaks here about an official commissioning of certain individuals who are to go out to proclaim the message of the gospel, without which action, Paul does not foresee anyone getting saved.  Further significance of this crucial act of ordaining preachers may be lost if one relies only on their English translation of Romans 10.  The ESV, for example renders v.14b: "And how are they going to believe of whom they have never heard?" In the Greek, however, the "of" does not need to be their (see my paraphrase above). If this is the case, then what Paul is arguing is that when people listen to a preacher, they are not just hearing of Christ, but they are hearing the very words of Christ himself (see Second Helvetic Confession, ch. 1).  

Thus we see the significance in Eph 4 of Paul listing "pastors and teachers" as one of the "gifts" (arguably, the only continuing office listed) given by the risen Lord for the edification of his Church. This is not to knock "everyday evangelism" done by the typical Christians, but rather,  to establish it. 

Coming soon: more on elders and deacons...  

Jesus and the Psalms

I'm sure that there are many other reasons (some more significant than others) for numerous well-intended Christians to insist that the Psalms are just not enough for us to sing in church.  Perhaps the most important argument to deal with, is that there's hardly any mention of Christ and his work.  Sure, there's the numerous Messianic psalms (Ps 2, 22, 110... to name a few), but nothing in the Psalms revival the clarity and unambiguous nature of some of our great hymns ("When I Survey the Wondrous Cross," "Rock of Ages," "Stricken, Smitten and Afflicted," etc.). Why should we as believers living in the New Covenant, on this side of the cross and resurrection, be restricted to singing the Psalms which are full of only types and shadows? In response, let me first say that I am not an exclusive Psalmist.  Secondly, there are many New Testament songs that the church can and should avail herself of (the Magnificat, Zechariah's Prophecy, the song of Simeon, Phil 2, Rev 4 & 5, etc.).  

But to address the problem directly, I would have to assert that the Psalms DO NOT lack references to Christ, but on the contrary, that is who the Psalms are all about! The Psalms are Christ's Psalms, and I'm not just referring to the clear Messianic ones.  Granted, it's not always clear and it does take more work, so to speak, to fully appreciate them.  Yet, I think that with a little instruction from the pulpit (I typically say a brief comment before or after the singing of each Psalm) and a few general guidelines to follow, a congregation can fruitfully sing the Psalms with praise and appreciation for the person and work of Christ. Here's how: we need to see the Psalms in light of the big picture of Redemptive History.  Christ is to be seen as both the Lord and the Servant of the covenants.  Not only is Christ the "Good Shepherd" who watches over us (Ps 23), but he is also the triumphant Warrior who defeats all his foes (Ps 18).  He is also the Servant of the Covenant of Works who faithfully obeys God's law (Ps 1) as well as patiently suffers (Ps 22).  Sure, we can appreciate the original context (David's personal experiences, for example), but we must also follow the hermeneutic of the New Testament (eg. Acts 2, Heb 1-2) in finding the personal experiences of the Greater-than-David, our Lord Jesus Christ.  

Singing Psalms

On the way to church I sometimes listen to a local alternative rock station that plays what they call: "Brunch with Bob and Friends," an hour or two of all reggae music.  Since most of these artists are adherents of Rastafarianism I am often struck with how many quotes and allusions there are to the Psalms in their lyrics.  Ironically, the Psalms are getting more "air play" on the local rock station on Sunday morning than in many of our own Reformed churches. 

What exactly is wrong with this scenario is lost on many, but there are two arguments in favor of Psalmody (singing the Psalms) that I'd like to reproduce here.  The first, is one based on principle, that is, the Regulative Principle of worship (RPW). This historically Reformed doctrine simply states that in our worship, we ought to do that and only that which Scripture commands. Even things that are perfectly fine for us to do outside of an assembled worship service are not to be done or practiced because Scripture has not expressly or implicitly told us to.  When the RPW is applied to the question: What should we sing in church?   The 150 inspired Psalms are the obvious answer.  It should be said that many Reformed Christians, who love and seek to uphold the RPW, do not apply it in this exclusive sense.  Even the Church Order of the URC does not specify exclusive Psalmody, but rather states that the Psalms are to be given "priority."

As you may have experienced for yourself, most people are not easily persuaded of arguments based upon principle (especially if they do not share your assumptions) like the above  argument. The next argument in favor of Psalmody is a pragmatic one.  It simply states that the Psalms are the "best" songs for us to sing in church.  I can't tell you how many times I've been in a worship service where the song lyrics are either false, misleading, or just plain cheesy that I have a hard time even singing along... You don't have this problem with the Psalms.  The Psalms are not just human in origin, but they are also Divine.  We never need to wonder how we ought to praise our Triune God, because he has already supplied the lyrics for us (contemporary tunes and arrangements are another matter). 

Why has Psalm singing declined in our society so that it is almost non-existent even in confessionally Reformed churches? Dr. Robert Godfrey, my Church History Professor and a Psalm "fanatic," has traced three developments that led to Psalmody's demise. One is Liberalism.  The classic Liberal take on Judaism and the Old Testament in general was one that adopted the developmental religion view.  Simply stated, this said that Biblical religion developed from pantheistic to polytheistic to monotheistic.  Using a Hegelian dialectic, they asserted that New Testament Christianity is a higher synthesis than its "barbaric" and "primitive" Old Testament counterpart. If this is true, why sing Psalms which speak about defeating one's enemies and other victories in battle? [This view which asserts the Old Testament reflects a lesser developed moral sense is one adopted by many Emergent thinkers. ]

Another development, ironically similar to the Liberal view, is that of Dispensationalism. Classic Dispensationalists assert that there are two people of God: national Israel and the Church.  The Psalms were largely viewed as something that belonged to Israel and, in their view, it seems odd for the church to sings the songs of Zion because that isn't their time and place.

The next development that led to the demise of Psalmody is that of Revivalism. One of Finney's new measures, which continues to be used today, is intensive singing.  Songs are sung to evoke an emotional response in the crowd and thus create a more moldable audience. Anyone who has regularly sung the Psalms knows that this is not the typical response one gets.  Sure we have Psalm 23 and 51, but those can't hold a candle to "Come Just as You Are."  

Finney's folly

The fear of formalism (having external religion without an inward conversion) led many in the 18th cent. to seek for intense religious experiences in order to confirm that they and others were truly converted (see post on Jonathan Edwards below). The seeking after conversion experiences often lasted months and years under much prolonged doubt and inner turmoil. This relatively arduous process was made quick and simple in the 19th cent. due largely to the "new measures" introduced by one man, Charles Grandison Finney. Finney was trained as a lawyer and even though he probably hadn't even read the Westminster Standards all the way through, was ordained a Presbyterian minister. He began to conduct "tent meetings," which were precursors to the modern day crusades we see done today by the likes of Billy Graham and Greg Laurie. Finney argued that divine grace was not necessarily needed in order for a revival to occur, but rather, the right use of means. These means or "measures" included prolonged meetings, often lasting days at a time, intense singing, emotional testimonies, and perhaps most effectively, the anxious bench, and area reserved in the front of the meeting hall where those who were feeling especially convicted of their sins were to make their way in order to receive further instructions about their conversion (AKA "the alter call").

While many of Finney's contemporaries were impressed with the numbers that he produced, there were others who criticized his measures as a departure from the Biblical method of kingdom growth as it had been practiced in the Reformed churches for centuries. John Williamson Nevin was one of Finney's most ardent critics. Nevin was raised a Presbyterian and was a early graduate from Princeton Seminary. Even though he was not ethnically German, he took a call to teach at Mercersburg Seminary, which belonged to the German Reformed Church. He, along with his younger colleague, Phillip Schaff (the prodigious church historian), were proponents of what would be known as "Mercersburg Theology."

Nevin's main argument with Finney was that his methods of conversion (termed: "the bench") were in direct opposition to the truly Reformed and Biblical method, which he termed: the catechism. A catechism is a type of instructional tool written in a question and answer format designed especially for covenant children to learn about their faith. In Nevin's case (and mine), there was the Heidelberg Catechism, written in 1563. This method of teaching baptized children through repetition and memorization all led to the maturing of their faith where one day, when they were old enough to understand, the covenant child would profess his or her faith before the elders and then become communicant members of their local congregation. That's all there is to it, argued Nevin... no glitz, no glam, no fancy meetings or emotional appeals. He was arguing for a relatively slow, yet steady process which has typified the daily life of the church for millennia. So opposed were these two methods that Nevin would argue: "the bench is against the catechism and the catechism is against the bench." Their is to be no mixing of these endeavors, they are hostile to each other and to practice one is to do damage to the other.

Like all men used by God in history, Nevin was not without his faults. Much of his theology was left wanting, especially his disdain for predestination, as well as his formulations of ecclesiology. What positive lessons we can learn from him, however, is that he maintained the importance of the Church and her ministries. When so many in his day (even Old School Presbyterians) were drawn to the new ways of doing things, he stood for how it's always been done, the way it should be.

Clark and Van Til controversy

Anyone who is familiar with the life and work of Cornelius Van Til has probably heard about the Clark/Van Til controversy.  The typical way that this story has been told is that it really was a low point in Van Til's otherwise respectable career.  It may seem like an odd detour in his life where he was only being a controversialist wanting to engage in trivial arguments. John Muether, however, persuasively argues that not only was Van Til's arguments in this case of the greatest importance, but also that the whole scenario should be regarded as a high-point in his life. 

Gordon Clark was an OPC ruling elder and a popular philosophy professor at Wheaton College.  He and Van Til had mutual respect for one another and Clark even used Van Til's apologetics syllabus for his senior philosophy class.  Both were staunch Calvinists with regard to soteriology (so much so that Clark was ousted from Wheaton because of the school's Arminian leaning). 

The two men did have serious disagreements.  Basically, Clark espoused that the only difference between our knowledge of things and God's knowledge of things is quantitative. That is, we know things the same way that God knows them, except he knows a lot more. Van Til, along with the rest of the historically Reformed tradition, asserted that there is not only a quantitative difference between our knowledge and God's knowledge, but also a qualitative difference.  Because God is incomprehensible and because there is an infinitely vast Creator/creature distinction, we must not assume that we know things exactly the same way God does.  Van Til further described the way that God communicates with us his creatures by speaking of the doctrine of analogy. This is a development of Calvin's idea of God condescending to speak to us in "baby talk" so that we might understand.  Van Til taught that we must not assume a one-to-one correspondence between our language and God's ("univocal speech"), but also, on the other hand, we ought not assume that God's word is unreliable ("equivocal speech").  His revelation of himself is true and reliable, but this is done by way of analogy (of His choosing). For example, when the Bible says that God is loving, we ought not to assume that God's love is exactly the same as the love that we as humans experience.  Rather, we ought to believe that it is "like" the way we love (only perfect and infinite). Clark feared that this doctrine of analogy was nothing more than total skepticism.  He claimed that it robbed us as believers of any confidence in God's word and brought us to the same place as the modernists who questioned Scripture's reliability.  This, however, is a classic misunderstanding of a carefully stated doctrine.  We can be sure of God's word because he is the ultimate source of it and it is he who has chosen the analogies; it is not the opinions of man.

The actual controversy was sparked when the Presbytery of Philadelphia (of which Van Til was a member), ordained Gordon Clark in a somewhat hasty manner, even though he lacked any formal ministerial training. The 1945 General Assembly launched an investigation about whether Presbytery had made a procedural error as well as formed a study committee to discuss whether Clark's doctrine of divine and human knowledge really protected the Creator/creature distinction so clearly taught in Scripture.  It is important to note that Van Til WAS NOT a member of this committee.  Perhaps the most well known member of the committee (and also the reason why Van Til felt confident that he didn't even need to serve on it) was his colleague and close friend Dr. John Murray.  Nevertheless, the committee did use Van Til's arguments and terminology, thus it is typically called the Clark/Van Til debate.  The reason why things got so heated is mainly due to Clark's supporters who were in favor of turning the OPC in a different direction than where Van Til and others (like those at Westminster Seminary) had been taking it.  Those who sought to approve Clark's ordination did so, not necessarily because they agreed with him, but because they wanted the OPC to become more a broadly minded Evangelical body, compared to the more narrow, confessionally Reformed identity that it has maintained. Even though Clark kept his ordination, he and many who fought for him eventually left the OPC; being dissatisfied with the confessional Reformed identity that prevailed. In this way, while Van Til, Murray, and others may have lost the battle, but the war was one. 

Consistent Calvinist

John Muether opens his new biography of Cornelius Van Til by stating that while he was alive, his readers could be separated between those who did not agree with him and those who did not understand him.  All Van Til was trying to accomplish, however, was constructing an ardent defense of the Christian faith that was consistent with his Reformed theology.  This is especially ironic today, as Muether notes, as there are many self-styled "Van Tilians" in mainline and non-Reformed denominations and yet there are also those even within his own denomination (OPC) that are not. Van Til's logic was simple: if we are going to believe all the aspects of Reformed theology, why would we ever want to use an apologetic that was not consistent with, and even detrimental too, historic Calvinism.  

Thus Van Til's "Reformed apologetics" (he was not in favor of attaching his own name to it) were in stark contrast to the "Classical apologetics" that are widely used by Roman Catholics and Evangelicals.  Rather than attempting to find "common ground" with the unbeliever by appealing to autonomous human reason (and thereby validate his or her unbelief), Van Til wanted to confront this unbelieving world with the message: "God has spoken."  Self-consciously a circular argument, Van Tilian thought attempts to undermine the unbeliever's assumptions (or "presuppositions") with a better starting point: the triune God has revealed himself in his word and we would do well to listen.  Muether's main contribution to Van Til studies with his biography is to show how he developed his thoughts, not in some lofty ivory tower, but in the trenches, as it were; that is, in his newly adopted denomination, the OPC.  

Like the great Dutch theologian Herman Bavinck, whose first "Dogmatics" volume was published the year he was born, Van Til was raised in an environment that reflected the two main conservative Dutch Reformed movements: Kuyper's "Doleantie," as well as the "Afscheiding," which had broke away from the state-controlled church years earlier.  Not only did Van Til draw from the Neo-Calvinists from his homeland, but he also had immense respect for the professors at Princeton: J. Gresham Machen, Geerhardus Vos, and B.B. Warfield, who died at the age of 69, the same year Van Til started studies there. 

After earning four degrees in five years at Princeton (ThB, MA, ThM, and PhD!!!), Van Til took a call to minister to a CRC congregation in Spring Lake, MI. This did not last long, however, as he took a position as apologetics professor at Princeton.  This move was consistent with the way he saw his calling as a minister. He felt that every minister, in addition to whatever degrees he has earned, held the most important: "V.D.M." that is "Verbum Dei Minister" (minister of the word of God). So whether he was behind the pulpit or in the seminary classroom or writing in his study, Van Til saw himself a spokesperson for the Triune God.  

When Machen started Westminster seminary, he wanted to establish an institution that would truly continue the "old Princeton" tradition of Alexander, Hodge, and Warfield, and even though he was committed to an Evidencialist apologetic, he knew that Van Til would be a perfect fit.  Van Til had always thought that he would end up teaching at either Calvin College or its seminary (which institutions were ran by his CRC denomination), however, there was something persuasive about Machen and Westminster that caused him to take the position.  Even though Van Til had many invitations to become a professor at Calvin Seminary (where he would have taught alongside of theologian Louis Berkof and New Testament scholar William Hendrikson), he continually decided to stay at Westminster to further its cause.

Had there been a CRC congregation in Philadelphia when Van Til went to Westminster, he and his wife Rena would no doubt have become members there.  When, however, Machen and others were basically kicked out of the Presbyterian Church (USA) and they formed the OPC, Van Til felt it best to join the new denomination as well. Although he maintained lifelong affinities with the CRC, he continued to labor in the OPC to continue to build and strengthen her witness.

How is knowing God like knowing your auto mechanic?

Dr. Esther Lightcap Meek is scheduled to speak at Westminster Seminary in Escondido on Oct. 14 at 10 AM. Dr. Meek is a philosophy professor at Geneva College and she is author of the Book "Longing to Know," a book which deals with the question of how we know what we know (or "epistemology").  Her book is "user-friendly" and she seems to be pretty down-to-earth, so I think that it should be a good lecture to hear for most of us. 

  

How do I know that I'm really saved?

I'm currently reading George Marsden's huge biography on Jonathan Edwards and I hope to do book-report entry when I'm done (if that time ever comes!). There was something, however, that I found interesting as I learned more about certain controversies that were floating around in Edward's day concerning the sacraments and who were admissible to them.  

When Edward's was a young man, there began to be popularized a concept known as the "half-way covenant." This was where the children of non-communicant members were still given the sacrament of baptism in infancy. This practice gained a fairly wide acceptance even among conservative ministers like Jonathan's father, Rev. Timothy Edwards.  

The next major development in this time period was when Jonathan's maternal grandfather, Rev. Solomon Stoddard, began to argue in favor of administering communion to those who demonstrated a pious life, but who, nevertheless, had not become full communicant members.  He spoke of the Lord's Supper being a "converting ordinance." Jonathan Edwards would come to disagree with his grandpa's practice when he took over his pastorate in Northhampton. 

Who was right in all of this? I used to think that Solomon Stoddard was a bit of a wacko speaking of the Lord's Supper in this way (what else should we do with Paul's language in I Corinthians 11:28ff?).  Yet, while I still think that Stoddard's idea is unbiblical, I can see why he would do it.  This is because conservatives such as Timothy and Jonathan Edawards, as well as Increase and Cotton Mather, had an equally unbiblical and detrimental view on who should be admitted to membership.  

New England Puritanism had devolved to the extent that there was such an emphasis placed upon personal experience that many, no doubt, true believers lacked the assurance of salvation.  There was a certain pattern that all who were truly converted were to experience.  First, they were to be "awakened" to the eternal realities and the majesty of God.  Next, they were to be tormented, as it were, concerning their own sin and depravity.  This process, known as "Law Work" could last for days, months, or even years!  At this stage, however, there still is no saving grace or assurance of pardon for these individuals. What was sought and finally required for one to be truly sure of their salvation (and therefore to be made full communicant members of their church) was an intense and sudden conversion experience where the individual just knew that he or she was saved.  Even Jonathan Edwards himself did not think he was really saved until he was a grad student at Yale, even though he was raised in a Christian home and never showed any major sinful behavior.  

If we were to follow this criteria (sadly many do to this day), I wonder how many of us would be assured of our salvation... I know I wouldn't.  The reason I know I have eternal life is primarily because of the work of Christ.  I do not need any intense and sudden conversion experiences.  I have faith, as far as I remember I always have, and by the grace of God, I always will.  

Southern Presbyterian

I recently read a bio on the life of Robert Lewis Dabney by Sean Michael Lucas. This book is part of a series called "American Reformed Biographies," edited by Lucas and D.G. Hart.  From a Reformed perspective, the subjects that they examine are largely sympathetic, however, they are not without glaring idiosyncrasies.  Dabney is a case in point.  

As a southern Presbyterian minister and scholar, he ardently upheld the Westminster Standards as the confessional norm for his tradition. He vehemently opposed the New School influence in the Presbyterian church that sought to lessen the subscription requirements for ministers. As a professor at Union Seminary in his beloved Virginia, he took his students through a rigorous training of theology and church history in order that they might properly serve the church of Christ. Dabney's talents did not end there; he also wrote extensively in philosophy, sociology, politics, education, homiletics, and a biography on the life of his friend, Gen. Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson.   

All that being said, however, perhaps Dabney's most heinous personal sin, which he carried to the end of his life, was that he was a virulent racist. Prior to the Civil War, he, like all moderately wealthy Southerners, was a slave owner. He wrongly interpreted divine providence (something we ought never to do) to suggest that slavery was the station in life for blacks. In other words, he argued that it was their divinely appointed social status and to usurp that, Dabney opined, was to overthrow God's will. Even after the War, during Reconstruction, he argued with all his might against ordaining black men into the ministry on what he thought were biblical grounds! 

Clearly, Dabney's thoughts and actions in this regard are appalling. That being said,  however, from a historian's perspective, it is never helpful to examine someone divorced from his or her social and cultural surroundings.  While not excusing his sin, certainly Dabney's Southern upbringing and distinct worldview contributed to a lot of his rhetoric.  

But why write on Dabney? Certainly, there are many other American Reformed luminaries that do not have such a dark track record.  I believe Lucas, as a History prof at Covenant (PCA's seminary), wanted to pull a valuable lesson from his own Southern Presbyterian tradition.  Namely, the doctrine of the spirituality of the Church. For all of Dabney's faults, perhaps his greatest contribution was to insist that Christ's kingdom is not of this world. To confuse the responsibilities of the kingdom of God with those of the kingdom of man is to commit a grave error. So for example, when the segment of the Northern Presbyterian church required in the "Spring Resolutions of 1861" for her members to express "devotion to the United States and loyalty to the Government," Dabney cried foul. The church, according to the spirituality doctrine, is to be focussed on the preaching of the word of God and the administration of the sacraments, and nothing else.  To engage in activities outside of this or to require her members to do so, is when the church ceases to be the church. This, I believe is Dabney's valuable lesson for the Church (especially for those of us who call themselves Reformed) today.