Jason J. Stellman's Blog, page 2

Some Answers to Questions about the Timetable

First off, a quick word to all of you who have contacted me recently via Facebook, email, or phone: Thanks very much for the support and encouragement (especially you who have defended me publicly even while disagreeing with me). I obviously will not be able to reply to all of you, and the replies I do give will take a while, but I just want you to know that I have read your messages and am thankful for them. I realize it will take a while to clear up all of the misunderstandings, and clean up all the mess, I have caused, but I will do my best (and yes, I do hope to respond to Carl Trueman's post soon). One of the biggest issues people have raised has to do with the timetable of events that led to my resignation. A few are under the impression that I just woke up the other day and penned my letter with little or no planning, and have asked, "Why didn't Jason talk to anyone about this first?" So I'd like to clear the air about this.
As I mentioned in my last post, I started asking questions about Sola Scriptura in mid-2008, and about Sola Fide a little while later. When it became clear that those questions weren't going away, I began having dialogues with trusted colleagues in the ministry. For a long time, my questions were just that: questions and not anywhere near settled changes of position. During this entire time, I did my best to ensure that my teaching, preaching, and interactions with people (public and private) were completely above board and that my adherence to the Westminster Standards was solid and unwavering.
(Yes, I include in this my prosecution of Leithart. I thought then, as I do now, that his views are out of accord with our Standards, and all who care to read the trial transcripts will see that my case against him was that his views are unconfessional.)
When it became clear to me that my own private study and limited dialogue partners were not sufficiently helping me, I approached my session and divulged to them my questions, whereupon they granted me a sabbatical to seek answers from theologians who may be able to help (I initially approached my session last December, and my sabbatical began this past March). I spent the greater part of the last three months flying around the country and spending many hours with men like Mike Horton, Ligon Duncan, and James White. During this time I was also meeting regularly with men from my session and presbytery, giving status updates on the progress of these meetings.
When my sabbatical was drawing to a close, it became clear to me that, despite all the challenging questions posed to me (and despite my not having airtight answers to all of them), Protestantism seemed no more true than it did when my sabbatical began. Therefore I tendered my resignation, and the rest you know.
I say all this knowing full well that it will do little to satisfy those who have called me a liar, a thief, and a wolf in sheep's clothing, and that's fine. But for those of you who have honest questions about how I have handled this whole process, I hope this will help you understand how things went down (even if you still disagree with how I have handled everything).
Lastly, I do appreciate those of you who have expressed concern for Exile Pres. For the record, its session of seven men, including a rock-solid associate pastor, has handled this with great grace and godly leadership. They all, as well as many members of the congregation, have expressed (here on my blog as well as elsewhere) their love and care for me and my family, and not a single person, whether in the church, on the session, or in the presbytery, has voiced a complaint about how I have navigated this incredibly messy situation. Yes, there is grief and sadness on their part, as well as concern and fear for me, but so far the only people who have charged me with wrongdoing are those who know absolutely nothing about the actual situation.
Now that you have the facts, you're certainly free to think I blundered this whole thing, which I may have done. But now at least your opinion can be a better-informed one.
Again, thank you for your prayers.

Some Answers to Questions about the Leithart Trial

As you can imagine, responding to every comment and charge I have received is not possible, but I hope to clarify some things in the days and weeks ahead.

One of the questions that keeps arising is how to understand my resignation in light of the Leithart trial. I'll do my best to explain my own thinking in this regard.

Most of you who have followed the PCA's Federal Vision issues know the basic timeline with respect to Leithart and the PNWP, so I won't rehearse it all here. My own involvement with the Leithart case began in 2007, shortly after the Memphis GA received the FV Report. My very first questions regarding Sola Scriptura began arising in the summer of 2008, but at most they were little nagging stones in my shoe that I assumed would either go away or be resolved with a bit of study. Obviously as time went on, these questions (together with ones about Sola Fide) became more pronounced.

The question, then, is this: Why did I prosecute Leithart when I was inwardly wrestling with issues that, if embraced, would disqualify me from the ministry?

There are a few things I would say to this. First, anyone familiar with church polity understands that the wheels grind slowly, and that one cannot simply "get out" of a process when he is mired in the middle of it. The first real opportunity to extricate myself was after the trial was over and a Complaint needed to be written against PNWP's decision. At that time I opted to issue a Protest instead, while at the same time aiding those who desired to complain behind the scenes.

But to get to the core of the matter, here's the difference between Leithart and me: The doctrines that Leithart publicly embraces are, in my opinion and that of many others, outside the pale of Reformed orthodoxy as outlined in the Westminster Standards. Thus from my perspective, any PCA minister holding such views ought not to be allowed to continue ministering in the PCA.

Leithart obviously sees his situation very differently, and so far, the PCA agrees with him.

When I realized that the questions I had been wrestling with privately were not being resolved, I had a choice to make. I could have done nothing, taught these things, and waited for someone to complain about it. Once they did, I could have asked PNWP to form a study committee to investigate me and hopefully clear my name. If they did so but found me guilty, I could have then appealed to the SJC, which would have eventually, after many months, instructed presbytery to try me. Then I could have gathered a defense team and spent countless hours and money on my defense. Then, when it was all over, I would have lost, and I would be exactly where I am today, but it would have taken several years to get there.

Instead, I opted to take the approach that I believe my ordination vows demand of me (and Leithart, and all PCA ministers), namely, I informed my session of my struggles, was granted a sabbatical during which I could pursue answers, and when those answers didn't come, I informed presbytery that my views were no longer in accord with the Confession and Catechisms of the PCA.

For the record, I do not regret prosecuting Leithart (even though I hated every minute of it). I have always considered myself a churchman and a confessionalist, and therefore I still think he is out of accord just as I know I am, and I stand by everything I said in my opening and closing arguments during the trial.

Hope that helps clear a few things up.

A Heartfelt Farewell to the Presbyterian Church in America

I submitted the following letter a couple of days ago. Please be in prayer for my family during this difficult time....

May 31, 2012
To the Clerk and Credentials Committee of the Pacific Northwest Presbytery,

In many ways this is one of the most difficult letters I have ever had to write, and I pray that it will be received in the spirit with which I intend it: one of humility and respect.

When I was ordained in this presbytery in 2004, I vowed before God that I “sincerely receive and adopt the Confession of Faith and the Catechisms of this Church as containing the system of doctrine taught in the Holy Scriptures,” and further, that “if at any time I find myself out of accord with any of the fundamentals of this system of doctrine I will, on my own initiative, make known to my Presbytery the change which has taken place in my views since the assumption of this ordination vow.” In keeping with this solemn vow, I feel duty-bound to disclose some changes to my views which have developed over the past few years, relating to the issues of Sola Scriptura and Sola Fide specifically.

Concerning the former, I have begun to doubt whether the Bible alone can be said to be our only infallible authority for faith and practice, and despite my efforts (and those of others) to dispel these doubts, they have only become more pronounced. In my own reading of the New Testament, the believer is never instructed to consult Scripture alone in order to adjudicate disputes or determine matters of doctrine (one obvious reason for this is that the early church existed at a time when the 27-book New Testament had either not been begun, completed, or recognized as canonical). The picture the New Testament paints is one in which the ordained leadership of the visible church gathers to bind and loose in Jesus’ Name and with his authority, with the Old Testament Scriptures being called upon as witnesses to the apostles’ and elders’ message (Matt. 18:18-19; Acts 15:6-29), with no indication in Scripture that such ecclesiastical authority was to cease and eventually give way to Sola Scriptura (meaning that the doctrine fails its own test). Moreover, unless the church’s interpretation of Scripture is divinely protected from error at least under certain conditions, then what we call the “orthodox” understanding of doctrines like the Trinity or the hypostatic union is reduced to mere fallible human opinion. I have searched long and hard, but have found no solution within the Sola Scriptura paradigm to this devastating conclusion.

Regarding Sola Fide, I have become convinced that the teaching that sinners are justified by a once-for-all declaration of acquittal on God’s part, based upon the imputation of Christ’s righteousness received by faith alone, is not reflective of the teaching of the New Testament as a whole. I have come to believe that a much more biblical paradigm for understanding the gospel—and one that has much greater explanatory value for understanding Jesus, Paul, Peter, James, and John—is one that sets forth the New Covenant work of the Spirit, procured through the sacrifice and resurrection of Christ, as internally inscribing God’s law and enabling believers to exhibit love of God and neighbor, thereby fulfilling the law in order to gain their eternal inheritance (Rom. 8:1-4). While this is all accomplished entirely by God’s grace through the merits of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection, it is at the same time not something that occurs through the imputation of an external and alien righteousness received through faith alone. Rather, as Paul says, God’s people are justified by a faith that works through love—itself the fruit of the Spirit—and with God’s law inscribed on our hearts and minds we sow to the Spirit and reap everlasting life (Gal. 5:4-6, 14, 16, 22; 6:8).

Due to the fact that these disagreements strike at the very core of the system of doctrine set forth in our Standards, I feel that I have no other choice than to tender my resignation from the ministry of the Presbyterian Church in America.

I would like to express my gratitude to the godly and faithful men of the Pacific Northwest Presbytery for the eight years I have been a member of this body. My desire when I joined was to remain pastoring in Woodinville for my entire life and ministry, and it is with deep disappointment and regret that this will not be the case. My sincere hope is that the fathers, brothers, and friends I have gotten to know here will keep me in their prayers, and forgive me for any offense I may have caused during my involvement in the case against TE Leithart, as well as for any offense I may be presently causing by breaking my ordination vows.

With sadness and a heavy heart,

Jason Stellman

In Praise of Irrational Patriotism

In the comments under a previous couple of threads I have been accused of being unpatriotic:

Why, unlike Charles Hodge -- Old School Presbyterian patriarch of the highest order -- is it so difficult for some Reformed men today to express a simple, heartfelt love for their country? Why, when someone points this out, is the default response to attack Republicans and political conservatives? Is it because these men really can't find anything to praise about their country, and must vent their wrath upon those who do? Are they embarrassed by all of their nation's traditions and accomplishments? Again, where is the recognition of the blessings of common grace? What makes men so defensive that, unlike Charles Hodge, they are uncomfortable with being both Presbyterians and patriots?

In my reply, I said:

What happens if I give America a grade of C+? You make it sound like I am simply not allowed to think our country is average, with good points and bad.

So I am putting forth the question for discussion: Is patriotism, understood as expressing often a love for one's country, a necessary virtue that all Americans should exhibit?

And to piggyback on one of Zrim's responses, I would harken us back to this post about Chesterton's chapter called "The Flag of the World" from his book Orthodoxy. In it I wrote:

Chesterton came to conclude that there is a "deep mistake" in categorizing people in this way, for before one can criticize or accept some aspect of the culture he must come to terms with his "primary loyalty" to the world as a whole. "My acceptance of the universe," he says, "is not optimism, it is more like patriotism." Thus the problem with the pessimist is not that he is overly-critical, but that he does not love what he criticizes. And likewise, the problem with the optimist is that he will defend the indefensible with the jingoistic battle cry of "My cosmos, right or wrong."
The way of escape from these two options is in what Chesterton describes as an irrational loyalty to the world, not because is great or even good, but because it is ours

"We do not want joy and anger to neutralize each other and produce a surly content-ment; we want a fiercer delight and a fiercer discontent.... Can [the ordinary man] hate the world enough to change it, and yet love it enough to think it worth changing? ... Is he enough of a pagan to die for the world, and enough of a Christian to die to it?"

It is only the "irrational optimist" who can successfully smash the whole universe for the sake of itself, and love the city enough to set it on fire.

“Waiting Perhaps for a Change of Days....”

I am happy to report that I am in the process of securing a publisher for my second book, The Destiny of the Species, which is a popular treatment of the biblical idea that man is hardwired for eternity and cannot be satisfied with anything less. In the weeks to come I will be posting small selections of what I have so far, just to whet your appetite for the finished product. I'll provide more details as I learn them.

***

“Waiting Perhaps for a Change of Days”


This idea that there is a malicious intent compelling us to place our allegiance where it ought not be placed is vividly illustrated by that seemingly innocuous piece of jewelry that precipitated what became the age-defining conflict chronicled in Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings trilogy. The “Ring of Power,” as it is called, looked no different from any ordinary ring. But therein lay its subtlety and deceit, for whenever its bearer put it on, it would render him invisible (a benefit useful for all kinds of questionable activities), but it would also begin the slow process of enslaving him and bringing him into subjection to Sauron, the dark lord who originally crafted the Ring. Very few in Tolkien’s tale were immune to the Ring’s allure, but those who were tempted by it were drawn for various reasons, some external and some internal. The same is true in the spiritual realm for us today. In our next chapter we will consider the internal foothold that causes us to ignore the destiny of the species (a three-letter word beginning with “s” and rhyming with win), but here we will continue to restrict our attention to what’s outside of us.

In his essay “The Rings of Tolkien and Plato: Lessons in Power, Choice, and Morality,” Eric Katz raises the question, “If a mortal being—a human or a hobbit, for example—possesses a Ring of Power, would he choose a moral life?” He continues:

[I]n this essay I am not primarily concerned with the physical aspects of the use of the Ring; I am rather concerned with the moral aspects. Does the use of a Ring of Power entail any moral or ethical limits? Is there a morally right or morally wrong way to use a Ring? These questions become even more important when we consider not just any Ring of Power, but the One Ring of Sauron, for the possessor of the One Ring can wield almost unlimited power, and a being who possesses such power would seem to have little reason to concern herself with the dictates of morality.[1]

Katz points out how that the various characters in Tolkien’s saga respond to the temptation of the Ring in various ways: Sméagol is utterly consumed by his need for the Ring, eventually (like Merton’s “selves” discussed earlier) splitting himself into two distinct personalities: the well-meaning Sméagol he always was, and the malicious creature Gollum, a pale shadow of his former hobbit-like self (Samwise the hobbit refers to these identities as “Slinker” and “Stinker”). Neither wants to see the Ring destroyed or delivered into the hands of Sauron its maker: “Don’t take the Precious to Him! … Keep it, nice master, and be kind to Sméagol. Don’t let Him have it. Or go away, go to nice places, and give it back to little Sméagol…. Sméagol will keep it safe; he will do lots of good, especially to nice hobbits.”[2] Frodo’s response is to point out to his companion that “Already you are being twisted.”

The noble warrior Boromir is likewise ensnared, albeit out of an expressed desire to wield the Ring for good, saying to the council that is called to determine what to do with the Ring: “[The Ring] has come into our hands to serve us in the very hour of need . . . . Wielding it the Free Lords of the Free may surely defeat the Enemy . . . . Let the Ring be your weapon . . . Take it and go forth to victory!”[3] Although he initially acquiesces to the council’s rejection of his plea, he eventually succumbs to the Ring’s allure and attempts to obtain it by violent force.

Two characters in Tolkien’s tale that completely resist the temptation to claim the Ring and use it for themselves are an elf, the Lady Galadriel, and the enigmatic and joyful Tom Bombadil. Galadriel, one of Middle-earth’s most powerful rulers, laughs when offered the Ring by Frodo, its bearer (she could easily just take it if she wanted to). Yet, she says, “I do not deny that my heart has greatly desired to ask what you offer.” She continues:

“You will give me the Ring freely! In place of the Dark Lord you will set up a Queen. And I shall not be dark, but beautiful and terrible as the Morning and the Night! Fair as the Sea and the Sun and the Snow upon the Mountain! Dreadful as the Storm and the Lightning! Stronger than the foundations of the earth. All shall love me and despair!”

Then she let her hand fall…. She was shrunken: a slender elf-woman, clad in simple white, whose gentle voice was soft and sad. “I pass the test,” she said. “I will diminish, and go into the West, and remain Galadriel.”[4]

Another character who resisted the Ring’s temptation is Tom Bombadil. He is mysterious, for he is neither a wizard nor an elf nor a mortal man (in fact, Tolkien never really explains who or what, exactly, Bombadil is). His wife describes him thusly: “He is, as you have seen him…. He is the Master of wood, water, and hill,”[5] while Bombadil describes himself as “Eldest… here before the river and the trees.”[6] What is especially remarkable about Bombadil is that, at one point in the story, he obtains the Ring from Frodo and puts it on his finger, and it has absolutely no effect on him. He then gives it back as if it were a mere trifle or trinket unworthy of concern.

In seeking to explain the varying effects the Ring has on those who possess it, Katz writes:

It is clear that Tolkien is demonstrating to us the progressive forces of corruption of the possession and use of the One Ring, for even Frodo, the hero of the book, succumbs to its corruption in his failure to destroy the Ring. He begins with innocent and accidental uses of the Ring’s power, but eventually gives over to its seductive power by making conscious and deliberate decisions to wear the Ring, and even, at last, not to destroy it.

[T]he key feature of the corruption caused by the Ring is the corruption of the soul, the “heart,” or the personality of the wielder of the Ring. To resist the Ring is to remain oneself, to be the person you are without any extraordinary powers. All who come in contact with the Ring (except, it appears, Bombadil) lose themselves (at least momentarily) in the desire to be greater than they are.[7]

Katz is hinting here at what I referred to above as the “internal foothold” that compels us toward illicit desires (which, as I said, we will look at in detail in our next chapter). What I would like to highlight for our purposes here, though, is the fact that both of the characters who resisted the Ring’s power understood themselves to be, for lack of a better word, above the affairs of Middle-earth. Galadriel’s true homeland was to be found “in the West,” and of Bombadil and the prospect of seeking his counsel, Gandalf says, “I should not [say that he has a power over the Ring, but] rather that the Ring has no power over him. He is his own master…. And now he is withdrawn to a little land, within bounds that he has set, though none can see them, waiting perhaps for a change of days, and he will not step beyond them.” When asked whether the Ring can be entrusted to Bombadil and kept within his realm, Gandalf replies, “He would not understand the need. And if he were given the Ring, he would soon forget it, or most likely throw it away. Such things have no hold on his mind.”[8]

Swinging the discussion to our investigation of the destiny of the species, it is not simply the case that one needs a lack of attachment to this world in order to resist its allure. We all live in this world, we breathe its air, we enjoy its art, and we partake of its fruits. No amount of mystical detachment can ever be achieved that would inoculate us against our present earthly context. “Then why bring up the examples of Galadriel and Bombadil?”, you may be asking. My point is to highlight, not their detachment from this age, but their attachment to another one—not their hatred of the temporal, but their love for what is eternal.

It is the same with us. The life God calls us to, despite the impression given by some of his followers, is not a solely negative one that is characterized by asceticism and denial of all things physical.[9] No, coupled with every disincentive from something is an alternate incentive toward something else. Just as Tom Bombadil was “waiting perhaps for a change of days,” so we who have come to discover and embrace the destiny of the species are sufficiently drawn by what’s ahead of us that we refuse to be driven by what lies behind. As I argued in chapter 1, we are not pushed, but pulled.

And this is precisely what makes us human.


[1] The Lord of the Rings and Philosophy, 5, emphasis original.


[2] Tolkien, The Two Towers, 273, quoted in The Lord of the Rings and Philosophy, 9-10.


[3] Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring, 300, quoted in Ibid., 10-11.


[4] Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring, 410-11, quoted in Ibid., 12-13.


[5] Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring, 140, quoted in Ibid., 13.


[6] Ibid., 13-14.


[7] Ibid., 18-19.


[8] Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring, 279.


[9] For a more detailed discussion of this, see my previous book, Dual Citizens.

On Testing the Two-Kingdoms Taxonomy

As you know, I was in Budapest last week and wrote a post about how much I love Europe and prefer it to America. This post has generated some backlash; one commenter wrote:

I may be dead wrong on this (I hope so, anyway), but I can't remember Jason ever affirming his love for this nation, and acknowledging the qualities that made it great. I would have thought recognition of God's blessings through common grace would flow naturally from anyone so strongly committed to 2K theology.

What I find curious about this is the guilty-until-proven-innocent position that the commenter assumes. According to him, America is "great," and that unless and until I acknowledge this, I am guilty of refusing to recognize God's blessings. The option of thinking that America is only average and actually inferior to many other places is apparently absent.

He continues:

 Also, no one should get a pass when he consistently sounds like a socialist, then runs to the strong tower of 2K for shelter when he's called on it. What's good for the goose, is good for the gander. (Does that old proverb communicate today?)

I will set aside the fact that every single 2K proponent I know is either a Republican of a libertarian (and who never feel the need to ask for a "pass" about their publicly-voiced convictions), and will point out that there seems to be a fundamental failure here to grasp what the two-kingdoms idea is all about. According to 2K, the believer has liberty of conscience when it comes to matters that are not explicitly addressed in Scripture with a "Thus saith the Lord." This includes everything from politics to sports, art to economics.

Therefore under this rubric, one may believe that workers should own the means of production, that the strike zone is too small, that impressionist painting is awful, or that healthcare should be privately funded. The Bible does not address these things with sufficient clarity to demand a uniform position from all Christians, which means that we are free to do whatever study we see fit on such topics and come to whatever conclusions we desire.

Yet what I often find is that Reformed Christians espouse 2K with a wink and a nudge, while in reality using precisely these extra-canonical issues as tests of good citizenship in the heavenly kingdom. Thus if you think that tax dollars should fund programs for the poor or that the U.S. is wrong to be so militarily imperialistic, you simply forfeit your right to claim you understand the gospel (and please know that I am drawing upon years of experience here, and not just from a single blog post).

One last thing, if your reaction to this is to want to write in and debate the specific points I highlighted, you're proving that you still don't get it. This is not about which policies are best, but about whether the Reformed Church, and the 2K camp within it, are sufficiently large to have room for people with whom you vehemently disagree about earthly matters.

Well? Are they?

Why I Like Europe More Than America

As you know, my wife and I are in Budapest (where we lived for several years in the '90s), and I thought I would write a quick post listing some reasons why Europe is rad and America is lame.

1. You can smoke at any outdoor cafe here, and no one gives you stinkeye because they're smoking, too.

2. Waiters don't hover, constantly ask if you need anything, or try to rush you out quickly once you've finished. In fact, in France there's a law that says that once you've ordered even the cheapest thing on the menu you're entitled to stay as long as you want.

3. They don't tear down and remodel everything here once it's a few years old.

4. More stuff is public: public transportation, public spaces, public healthcare.

5. People's thinking is far more progressive here.

6. In a given day in any European city you need two hands to count all the different languages you hear, and thus people are far less xenophobic than in the U.S.

7. There's a great combination of medieval architecture and hedonism and, well, it just kind of resonates.

8. Even though the beer pales in comparison to the Pacific Northwest's (as does everyone's), you can drink it with lunch without feeling like a lush.

9. Since most of Europe's cities predate the automobile, drivers must adapt to pedestrians rather than the other way around.

10. Tawny Kitaen

So there you have it, just a few hastily written thoughts using a sketchy wifi connection. I'll start blogging for reals again soon.

On the Road Again

I realize things have been a bit quiet around here. Part of that is due to how much traveling I have been doing lately (who said being on sabbatical is like being on an extended vacation?).

It will get better, I promise, but it may get a bit worse first.

On Tuesday my wife and I will be traveling to one of my favorite cities in the world: Budapest. I met Alida there, and it was in that city that I kind of became who I am, so to speak. I look forward to walking the bridges that span the Danube, to seeing familiar faces and sites, and hopefully to getting some serious writing done.

I may post some pics while we're there, and I hope to begin blogging more regularly upon my return.

"I Will Eat You Alive, I Will Eat You Alive...."

I saw Radiohead live at Key Arena last week, and it (along U2 in Sarajevo) was possibly the best rock show I have ever seen. For your enjoyment, I'm posting one of my favorite performances below. This is Radiohead playing "Where I End and You Begin," Live from the Basement.

Enjoy....

Cur Deus Homo?

Sorry for not having updated things in so long, I have been traveling a lot. Those tornadoes in Dallas last week? Suffice it to say I was severely inconvenienced. I may not have lost my home and all my worldly possessions, but still.

I have been following with serious fascination the discussion about Nestorianism over at Green Baggins (as I'm sure you have too, for nothing catches the attention of the masses like fourth-century christological heresies and their relevance for today). I'll bring you up to speed on the issue and then make an observation or two.

The Chalcedonian understanding of the communicatio idiomatum (communication of properties) says that what can be predicated of either of Christ's natures may be said of his Person as a whole. For example, Jesus, being a divine Person who assumed human flesh, can suffer upon the cross according to his human nature (since the divine nature is impassible) and it can truly be said that the divine Son suffered and died. This is why the church affirmed Mary as the theotokos (God-bearer): Though she was not the source of the Son's divine nature but his human nature, she indeed gave birth to a Person and not a mere nature, and that Person is divine.

The question has now turned to how exactly, if Christ is only a divine Person, the properties of his humanity can be communicated to his Person (comment #74).

To take a slight turn off-course, I can't help but think that such a discussion dovetails with the issue of theosis, or divinization. If the issue of the communication of properties arises from a consideration of the incarnation, then the question arises, "Why did the Son of God assume human flesh in the first place?" If salvation entailed only the canceling of debt and imputation of righteousness, could there have been some other way to accomplish it besides the incarnation of the divine Logos? If the answer is yes (that conceivably God could have found another way to accomplish this), then it must mean that our salvation involves more than the cancellation of debt and the imputation of righteousness. Otherwise, why go to such lengths?

The early church fathers would have answered the question "Why the God-Man?" by insisting that the Son assumed our nature so that we could participate in his -- that "he became man so that we could become God," to borrow Augustine's formula. It is here that the debates about the communicatio idiomatum cease to be theoretical and become not only practical, but sublime. The apostle John insists that since we are children of God (and since fathering children in their likeness is what fathers do), we shall be "like him, for we shall see him as he is" (I John 3:1ff).

Thus while the current debates over how the natures of Christ relate to his Person deal specifically with how the Bible allows us to speak of Jesus, the end result of the incarnation is anything but merely stipulative, predicative, or declarative, but is much more than that.

God doesn't just say stuff about us that isn't really true, but he makes us to be what he in his grace declares, is what I'm saying.