Kevin DeYoung's Blog, page 58

R.C. Sproul on the Curse Motif of the Atonement

A Fleeting Tolerance

Excellent insights and. unfortunately, prescient words from David S. Crawford writing in Humanum in 2012 on same-sex unions and two versions of tolerance:

This last point concerning the legal value of moral disapproval of a majority suggests another theme in the courts’ reasoning–the sharp distinction between public reason and private morality. The claim of the traditional arguments’ irrationality is of course made in a civil and legal context. The courts emphasize repeatedly that they are only addressing “civil marriage,” that is to say, marriage insofar as it is a juridical creature of state legislation. This limitation allows them to say that they are not mandating a moral position, but only making a judgment about what the law requires. “Our obligation is to define the liberty of all, not to mandate our own moral code” is a claim piously repeated by the courts. The Goodridge court appears at least to acknowledge the legitimacy of citizens’ deeply help convictions on both sides of the “gay marriage” issue. The implication would seem to be, then, that the issue of “gay marriage” transects two distinct domains–the public and the private–and that, if the traditional arguments are not civilly or legally rational, they may be rational — and therefore morally sustainable — in contexts other than civil or legal one, where broader religious and moral starting points are relevant and may be decisive.

The courts seem, therefore, to offer a kind of settlement of the issue, by means of the distinction between the public and the private. But this “settlement” trades on an ambiguity in the idea of “tolerance.” The ostensibly non-moral notion of tolerance proffered by the courts would treat the concept as merely legal one. It would have us suppose that tolerance means government neutrality to two positions, a neutrality that would leave in place a kind of modus vivendi between irreconcilable worldviews. The question then is whether tolerance can really be thought of in this way, or whether it does not slide into another sense of tolerance, one which is thoroughly moral. This latter would see tolerance not as an agreement to disagree for practical and political reasons, but as signifying an imperative for the acceptance of diverse views and ways as equally valid.

This second version of tolerance, then, offers a standard for judgement concerning the proper disposition one has toward all others within society. Anyone who does not accept this moral standard sets himself beyond the pale of legitimate public discourse. Where this happens, a given private position might be politically and legally “tolerated” on a conditional basis due to prudential considerations, such as preserving countervailing principles of autonomy (e.g. “religious freedom”) or the undesirability of intruding too overtly in domestic or ecclesial matters. This second version would nevertheless seek gradually to instill tolerance as a personal and public virtue, one that would dictate a moral and finally anthropological position regarding questions such as that of “gay marriage.” It would seek to inculcate not only a begrudging acceptance of the de facto presence of an opposing worldview, but the actual embrace of the new idea of marriage–that “same-sex” and “opposite-sex” marriage are essentially and morally equivalent and should be accepted as such.

If the courts at times speak as though they have the “merely” legal notion of tolerance in mind, in reality of course they have the second, and necessarily so. This is because tolerance in the first sense can only be an illusion in issues that involve beliefs about vital human matters. These matters that necessarily involve our deepest convictions about what humanity is. Disagreement on such points cannot help but touch on the foundations of culture and society. In a moment we will see that an anthropological shift is underway. But, for now, if the arguments against “gay marriage” are publically irrational, that must necessarily mean that they are also publically bigoted. But bigoted public arguments are in fact immoral public arguments, and this means that the private position will always be at least publically immoral. But can there be a position that is publically immoral and yet privately moral? If issues such as “gay marriage” necessarily imply a certain conception of society, then rejection of the conception will appear to be antisocial, uncivil. And so it turns out that the concept of “tolerance” is in fact a demand of conformity in moral and anthropological belief.

In short, the tolerance that really is proffered is provisional and contingent, tailored to accommodate what is conceived as a significant but shrinking segment of society that holds a publically unacceptable private bigotry. Where over time it emerges that this bigotry has not in fact disappeared, more aggressive measures will be needed, which will include more explicit legal and educational components, as well as simple ostracism.

The reason many corporations, members of the media, and ten thousands angry tweeters do not feel the need to examine the arguments for religious freedom is because they don’t think any rational arguments can be made in this instance. Traditional views about marriage are so 1990’s and so obviously immoral that anyone holding such views today does not deserve our respect, let alone any whiff of legal protection. We should not expect our ideas to be debated fairly when it has already been concluded that there are no ideas to consider, only bigotry to suppress. As I’ve said before, why argue about dogma when stigma will do?

Hymns We Should Sing More Often: Stricken, Smitten, and Afflicted

This is part of an intermittent series I’ve called “Hymns We Should Sing More Often.” The aim is to remind us (or introduce for the first time) excellent hymns that are probably not included in most church’s musical canon. A few hymns–like Holy, Holy, Holy or Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing—are familiar to many congregations and get sung in conferences and other large gatherings. Unfortunately, for a growing number of churches, there are no hymnals in the pews (or on the chairs), and consequently there is little opportunity to draw from the deep well of Christian hymnody. Most of the hymns in this series are not unfamiliar, just underutilized. I hope you will enjoy learning about these hymns as much as I have and enjoy singing them even more.

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These sober lyrics, set to a somber tune, make for an ideal Lenten hymn. The opening line draws from Isaiah 53:4 and its description of the Messianic Suffering Servant: “We considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted.” In verse two, we are forced to consider the depth of Christ’s passion, his groaning, his betrayal, his insults, and his unmatched grief. The deepest stroke that pierced him, however, was the stroke that divine justice gave.

Sometimes we hear the cross described as a symbol of how precious we were to God. This is true, so long as we understand that we were not some diamond in the rough that irresistibly drew God to us. The cross certainly shows us the depth of God’s love, but is a love wholly undeserved. For the cross, verse three reminds us, displays the true nature of sin and human guilt. Verse four elegantly summarizes the hope of the gospel: “Lamb of God, for sinners wounded, sacrifice to cancel guilt! None shall ever be confounded who on him their hope have built.”

Thomas Kelly (1769-1855) wrote more than 750 hymns, including this one in 1804. Kelly planned to be a lawyer but after his conversion the Irishman decided to enter the ministry. He was ordained as an Anglican priest in 1792, but later became a “dissenting” minister.

Stricken, smitten, and afflicted, see him dying on the tree!

‘Tis the Christ by man rejected; yes, my soul, ’tis he, ’tis he!

‘Tis the long expected Prophet, David’s son, yet David’s Lord;

by his Son God now has spoken: ’tis the true and faithful Word.

Tell me ye who hear him groaning, was there ever grief like his?

Friends thro’ fear his cause disowning, foes insulting his distress;

many hands were raised to wound him, none would interpose to save;

but the deepest stroke that pierced him was the stroke that Justice gave.

Ye who think of sin by lightly nor suppose the evil great

here may view its nature rightly, here its guilt may estimate.

Mark the sacrifice appointed, see who bears the awful load;

’tis the Word, the Lord’s Anointed, Son of Man and Son of God.

Here we have a firm foundation, here the refuge of the lost;

Christ’s the Rock of our salvation, his the name of which we boast.

Lamb of God, for sinners wounded, sacrifice to cancel guilt!

None shall ever be confounded who on him their hope have built.

Monday Morning Humor

Here’s hoping your special services this week go better than this one. Skip ahead to 1:20 for the action…

Not That Bright

I had read John 1 hundreds of times before. But this time I got stuck on verse 8: “He was not the light, but came to bear witness about the light.”

“Huh,” I thought, sitting up straight and staring at nothing in particular for a minute or two, “that’s a word I need to hear as a pastor.” More than that, it’s a word I need to hear as a Christian. Here’s John the Baptist–pretty important guy, wildly popular prophet, forerunner of the Messiah, just about the greatest person ever born of a woman (Mt. 11:11). And when the Holy Spirit takes a moment to introduce him in John’s prologue, He wants to make clear: John the Baptist was not the light.

Hey pastor, have you forgotten that this whole church thing isn’t about you? Have I forgotten that it’s not about the size of my church, the number of compliments I receive, or the reach of some nebulous social media platform? I am not the light. Never have been. Praise God, I don’t have to be.

Hey mom, do you remember whose perfect example your kids need to see? It’s not yours. It’s Christ’s. Do you remember who alone can save their souls? Same deal.

Hey ministry entrepreneur, have you forgotten what really matters? It’s not what you can build. If you know how to be a ministry success without bearing witness to Christ, rethink your definition of success.

Hey missionary, have you lost sight of why you left home in the first place? You didn’t choose this life for the weather or the traffic. You knew you were not promised great results. You just wanted to bear witness to the light where there was too much darkness.

Hey social justice crusader, do you know that it doesn’t depend on you? That city, that slum, that injustice–they won’t be helped by sacrifice alone. They need to know the sacrifice that only a Savior can provide.

At first John 1:8 stung a bit. A healthy sting. I didn’t get into the ministry for me. I became a pastor because I felt the word of God like a fire in my bones. I chose this path because, on my best days, I love Christ and love his people. But for all of us, our best days are not our only days. We can be tempted to self-pity, tempted to prided, tempted to impatience, tempted to think we are the point instead of just pointers. So yeah, a good kind of sting.

But then I thought, what good news we have in this little verse. What good news for pastors and presidents and moms and missionaries and elders and deacons and teachers and teenagers. What good news for anyone who loves Jesus and feels like their spiritual wattage is a bit dimmer than they’d like.

You don’t have to bear the burdens of the planet, just bear witness to the one who can.

You don’t have die for the sins of the world, just introduce people to the one who has.

You are not the light.

Ouch, and hallelujah!

Hymns We Should Sing More Often: Holy God, We Praise Your Name

This is the first installment of an intermittent series I’ve called “Hymns We Should Sing More Often.” The aim is to remind us (or introduce for the first time) excellent hymns that are probably not included in most church’s musical canon. A few hymns–like Holy, Holy, Holy or Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing—are familiar to many congregations and get sung in conferences and other large gatherings. Unfortunately, for a growing number of churches, there are no hymnals in the pews (or on the chairs), and consequently there is little opportunity to draw from the deep well of Christian hymnody. Most of the hymns in this series are not unfamiliar, just underutilized. I hope you will enjoy learning about these hymns as much as I have and enjoy singing them even more.

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A few people reading this post can remember World War II. The rest of us know about it from movies, books, and television. The war ended 65 years ago, which seems like the distant past if you’ve used email your whole life. But it’s recent history compared to the U.S. Civil War (1861-65), which feels like yesterday compared to British Civil War nearly four centuries ago (1641-1651). Think of how the world has changed in 400 years. The growth of cities, the car, the plane, the computer, indoor plumbing, the rise of democratic capitalism, the transformation of agriculture, the first European settlers in America—400 years was a long time ago.

And yet, you have to go back another 400 years to get to the Fifth Crusade (1215-1221) and another 400 years from that to witness the death of Charlemagne (814). Now we are in the so-called Dark Ages (which actually weren’t so dark), worlds away from life as we know it.

But we still haven’t gone back far enough to get to this particular hymn.

Holy God, We Praise Your Name is based on the fourth century Latin hymn Te Deum Laudamus (“You, God, we praise”), often known simply as the Te Deum. The author is unknown, though church tradition ascribes the hymn to Ambrose and Augustine, on the occasion of Augustine’s baptism by Ambrose in 387. The Te Deum, used in all branches of the Christian church and often used as a setting for large choral arrangements, worships the Triune God by exulting in a mighty symphony of praise streaming forth from all creation, the saints on earth and the saints in heaven, angel choirs, the apostles, prophets, and martyrs, and the worldwide church. Look up the Te Deum and read the whole thing. It’s a beautiful work that deserves to be read 1600 years later.

Our English translation, which covers only the first half of the Latin hymn, comes from Clarence Walworth, a nineteenth century Catholic priest from New York. The Te Deum can be accompanied by many different tunes. The Trinity Hymnal uses GROSSER GOTT, an eighteenth century German tune whose simple and stately melody serves to accentuate the high-sounding doxology of the text.

Holy God, we praise your name; Lord of all, we bow before you;

all on earth your scepter claim, all in heav’n above adore you.

Infinite your vast domain, everlasting is your reign.

Hark, the loud celestial hymn angel choirs above are raising;

cherubim and seraphim in unceasing chorus praising,

fill the heav’ns with sweet accord: “Holy, holy, holy Lord.”

Lo! the apostolic train join your sacred name to hallow;

prophets swell the glad refrain, and the white-robed martyrs follow;

and from morn to set of sun, through the church the song goes on.

Holy Father, Holy Son, Holy Spirit, Three we name you;

while in essence only One, undivided God we claim you,

and adoring bend the knee, while we sing this mystery.

RCA Approves University Reformed Church’s Transfer to the PCA

On Saturday afternoon the Great Lakes City Classis (formerly the South Grand Rapids Classis), one of forty-five classes in the Reformed Church in America (RCA), approved University Reformed Church’s request to transfer to the Presbyterian Church in America (PCA). As a condition of its transfer, together with all its real and personal property, University Reformed Church (URC) must pay its annual assessment for 2015 and 2016 (roughly $80,000 total) and pay an additional $200,000 so that the classis can plant another church in the area.

I’ve written before about how URC voted to leave the RCA–first as an internal “discerning the mind of the congregation” vote and second as an official part of the transfer process. There was some confusion after these earlier votes that URC had actually left the RCA and joined the PCA. But in RCA polity a church’s departure is not a unilateral decision. We needed approval from the classis (the regional governing body in the RCA) in order to transfer into the PCA, especially if we wanted to transfer in an orderly way with our church building and without any legal wrangling.

The classis committee investigating our petition recommended that our request be denied and we not be able to leave the RCA. The classis, however, approved a substitute motion which granted URC and its pastors a transfer into the PCA. A proposed amendment to strike the $200,000 requirement from the substitute motion failed. The final vote to approve the substitute motion, with the conditions mentioned above, passed with little opposition.

We still have to work out some procedural details with the classis executive committee and then make plans for our examination and formal reception in the PCA. We hope to complete this process in the next several months. The monies we owe to the classis do not have to be paid in full before the transfer can be finalized.

The point of this update is to provide information, not commentary. Consequently, I’ve closed the comments on this post. The discussion that mattered did not take place online but in a church basement in Detroit on Saturday morning. I am grateful to the brothers and sisters in the classis for granting our transfer into the PCA. I am grateful for their hard work in what was at times a painful and difficult process. I do not wish the RCA or our classis any harm. This is the classis I grew up in, the classis I was ordained in, and the classis I’ve been a part of in one way or another for more than twenty years. I’ve known some of the pastors in the classis for almost my entire life. On the day I become a pastor in the PCA it will be the first day I’ve been a member of any church other than the Reformed Church in America. I will always be grateful for the gospel I received from RCA pastors, RCA churches, RCA colleges, RCA camps, and RCA ministries.

Together with our entire congregation I pray for God’s blessing and protection on the denomination we are leaving. At the same time, we also pray with thanksgiving and eager expectation for the denomination we are about to join. We have no illusions that we are entering a perfect church communion (none exist on earth), but we are excited to be a part of the Great Lakes Presbytery and serve alongside like-minded congregations and like-minded brothers and sisters in the PCA for decades to come. We are eager to make friends, find our way, and follow Christ in our new denominational home.

Concerning the True Care of Souls

I think it was in college when I realized that I could actually read the famous authors that I was used to just read about. To read Calvin or Augustine or the Didache on my own was a thrilling discovery. Primary sources are sometimes harder, but almost always better. So I always enjoy reading old, dead saints.

A few years ago I was working through Concerning the True Care of Souls by Martin Bucer. Kudos to Banner of Truth and translator Peter Beale for giving us this never-before-in-English treatise from the great Strasbourg Reformer (with a fine historical introduction from the late David F. Wright I might add). Bucer (pronounced Butzer), is best known nowadays as a mentor and formative influence for John Calvin, but he was an important Reformer in his own right. Born in 1491, Bucer spent most of his ministry in Strasbourg, Germany and finished his life teaching at Cambridge. His passion as a Reformer comes through in the (very) full title (aren’t you glad we have dust jackets today?) of this 1538 work:

Concerning the true care of souls and genuine pastoral ministry, and how the latter is to be ordered and carried out in the church of Christ: Here you will find the essential means whereby we can escape from the present so deplorable and pernicious state of religious schism and division and return to true unity and good Christian order in the churches. Knowledge which is useful not only to the congregations of Christ, but also to pastors and rulers.

This book was Bucer’s effort to reintroduce church disipline, establish multiple-elder rule, and maintain the practice of evangelical penance in Strasbourg. Not everything in the book is especially helpful. Bucer doesn’t write particularly well (lacking the passion of Luther and the precision of Calvin) and the place he gives to magistrates in the affairs of the church marks him as a man of his times. But Bucer’s concern for the church and his conception of pastoral ministry are historically important and personally challenging.

This paragraph captures the spirit of the book.

From this it is evident that there are five main tasks required in the pastoral office and true care of souls.

First: to lead to Christ our Lord and into his communion those who are still estranged from him, whether through carnal excess or false worship.

Secondly: to restore those who had once been brought to Christ and into his church but have been drawn away again through the affairs of the flesh or false doctrine.

Thirdly: to assist in the true reformation of those who while remaining in the church of Christ have grievously fallen and sinned.

Fourthly: to re-establish in true Christian strength and health those who, while persevering in the fellowship of Christ and not doing anything particularly or grossly wrong, have become somewhat feeble and sick in the Christian life.

Fifthly: to protect from all offense and falling away and continually encourage in all good things those who stay within the flock and in Christ’s sheep-pen without grievously sinning or becoming weak and sick in their Christian walk (70).

I find several things noteworthy in this paragraph.

1. Bucer’s emphasis on evangelism. He comes back to this time after time in the book: the work of the pastor is to seek the lost. Sometimes we are led to believe that no one thought about evangelism in Christendom, but Bucer clearly did.

2. Bucer’s five-fold description of those under our charge. The pastor (and anyone engaged in pastoral ministry Bucer would say) must seek the lost, bring back the wandering, restore the fallen, strengthen the weak, and encourage the strong. Let me suggest this is a mighty helpful way to look at your congregation before you preach, or your kids as you parent, or your “flock” (whatever it might be).

3. Bucer’s focus on people. I’m struck by the fact that his definition of pastoral ministry is all about the people to whom we minister. The focus is not on administration (though I’m sure he did some of that), nor on programs (though I’m not against them), nor on meetings (though we all have them), but on the people that need our help.

Concerning the True Care of Souls is not a difficult read. The layout is nice and there are plenty of headings to keep you on track. Elders and pastors will especially benefit from Bucer’s heart and wisdom. Nothing earth-shattering here, but solid.

So let me say it one more time: read old books.

Why Did Christianity Grow?

If you’ve never read anything by Rodney Stark you are missing out on a lot of educated provocation. Stark’s arguments are always intriguing. I don’t agree with everything he says and I wish he would do more to allow for supernatural explanations, but on the whole I find him full of good sense and delightfully iconoclastic.

A few years ago I made my way through one of his best known books, The Rise of Christianity. Stark, in debunking a number of historical myths, tries to explain from a sociological perspective “how the obscure, marginal Jesus movement became the dominant religious force in the western world in a few centuries.”

Here are thirteen ways, drawn from Stark’s arguments, how we might answer that question:

1. Christianity drew from the worldly, accommodated religious communities of the time. It is hardest to find converts among the serious religious, easiest to get them from those who are most secular or nominal in their commitment.

2. Christianity probably drew its converts, in large part, from the upper class. Privileged classes tend to be the most skeptical about God and most unaffiliated. Thus there are more of them to be won to new religions. If, that is, they are dissatisfied with what they have found in the world.

3. Christianity spread because the Christians cared for each other in times of sickness and disease. Their communal compassion both staved off death and served as an example to outsiders of the transforming power of the Christian faith.

4. The first Christians also cared for outsiders, which won them a hearing with unbelievers.

5. Women were honored in Christianity. Baby girls were not killed. Females of all ages were to be protected. Husbands, not just wives, were expected to be chaste.

6. Christians had more babies than non-Christians, and abortions were considered anathema. The early Christians simply out-birthed the pagans.

7. Christianity grew when it remained an “open network” with connections into the lives of non-Christians.

8. Christians were over-represented in cities, which made them more influential than their numbers because culture tends to flow from cities to the countryside.

9. Christianity gave much needed dignity to human beings. They welcomed strangers, provided community, and offered a refuge from a brutal world.

10. Christian martyrs galvanized and inspired the faith of the early Christians.

11. Christianity in the first few centuries required great sacrifice and entailed a significant stigma. This process of sacrifice and stigma scared off free-riders and made Christianity a more virulent, vibrant faith.

12. Membership in the church was “expensive” and a “bargain” at the same time. That is, following Christ cost you something, but by becoming a Christian you also gained physical support, relational attachments, and shared emotional satisfaction with other believers.

13. Christianity promised rewards to its followers, the reward of being virtuous and the reward of eternal life.

Of course, the simple answer to the question about the rise of Christianity, and the one that Stark (as a sociologist) doesn’t talk about, is simply this: God caused the church to grow. He saved souls. He converted hearts. It was God’s will to cause the church to prosper.

That’s the first thing to say. But not he last. Provided our theological foundation is well established, careful historical and sociological investigation have their place, for their are a number of social factors God often uses, along with his word, to accomplish his good purposes.

Who Was St. Patrick?

The question in the title of this post is worth asking for at least two reasons: (1) many Americans will celebrate St. Patrick’s Day today and (2) most of those Americans won’t have the foggiest idea of anything remotely historical about Patrick.

And he’s worth knowing something about.

The holiday also gives me the occasion to recommend one of my favorite history books. It’s not a page turner, but I learned something on every page. Actually, I learned something with almost every paragraph. The book is The Barbarian Conversion: From Paganism to Christianity by Richard Fletcher. For a readable, scholarly treatment on the long, slow, amazing transition in Europe from paganism to Christianity I’m not aware of a better book.

So what does Fletcher say about Patrick?

Well, first you need to know what Patrick did not do.

He did not expel snakes from Ireland: the snakelessness of Ireland had been noted by the Roman geographer Solinus in the third century. He did not compose that wonderful hymn known as ‘Saint Patrick’s Breastplate': its language postdates him by about three centuries. He did not drive a chariot three times over his sister Lupait to punish her unchastity. . . . He did not use the leaves of the shamrock to illustrate the Persons of the Trinity for his converts: true, he might have done; but it is not until the seventeenth century that we are told that he did. (82)

Determining fact from fiction for Patrick is difficult, in part because his writings were not always passed along reliably. More important, Patrick wrote in particularly poor Latin. He received little education and did not handle Latin well. Fletcher says his Latin is “simple, awkward, laborious, sometimes ambiguous, occasionally unintelligible” (83). This makes it hard to know too much for certain.

But here’s what most scholars agree on: Patrick–whose adult life falls in the fifth century–was actually British, not Irish. He was born into a Christian family with priests and deacons for relatives, but by his own admission, he was not a good Christian growing up. As a teenager he was carried by Irish raiders into slavery in Ireland. His faith deepened during this six year ordeal. Upon escaping Ireland he went back home to Britain. While with his family he received a dream in which God called him to go back to Ireland to convert the Irish pagans to Christianity.

In his Confessio Patrick writes movingly about his burden to evangelize the Irish. He explicitly links his vocation to the commands of Scripture. Biblical allusions like “the nations will come to you from the ends of the earth” and “I have put you as a light among the nations” and “I shall make you fishers of men” flow from his pen. Seeing his life’s work through the lens of Matthew 28 and Acts 1, Patrick prayed that God would “never allow me to be separated from His people whom He has won in the end of the earth.” For Patrick, the ends of the earth was Ireland.

Over decades, Patrick made “many thousands of converts.” He evangelized in cities and in the countryside. He encouraged the monastic way of life, ordained priests, and planted churches.

Patrick, says Fletcher, “was soaked in the Bible.” This was commendable, but not completely unusual. What was new was Patrick’s embrace of the missionary mandate to lead the nations to Christ.

Patrick’s originality was that no one within western Christendom had thought such thoughts as these before, had ever previously been possessed by such convictions. As far as our evidence goes, he was the first person in Christian history to take the scriptural injunctions literally; to grasp that teaching all nations meant teaching even barbarians who lived beyond the border of the frontiers of the Roman Empire. (86)

Sounds like a man deserving of his own holiday. It’s too bad today the forefather of western missions is chiefly celebrated by drinking beer and dreaming of  leprechauns. We don’t know much for certain about Patrick. But what we know of his ambition and ministry should be enough to make all of us a little green with envy.