Some Thoughts on Salvation and Grace from T.F. Torrance

Those who are justified by grace, by faith in Christ, are the only ones who really know that they are lost sinners, apart from Christ, but those who have not received Christ’s forgiveness and the verdict it entails upon their humanity are the ones who regard themselves as able to justify themselves. Similarly, those who have come to know the mystery of Christ as true God and true man are the only ones who really know that they themselves are in ignorance, and that by themselves, by their own capacities, they cannot know the mystery. But those who have not received Jesus Christ, who have avoided the mystery. But those who have not received Jesus Christ, who have avoided the mystery and therefore have not come to know it, are those who think they can understand how God and man can come together. Both the sinner who is forgiven by Christ and the man or woman who has come to see the face of God in the face of Christ, know that they can never master or dominate the mystery of Christ in their hearts, but can only acknowledge it gladly with wonder and thankfulness, and seek to understand  the mystery out of itself, that is, seek to let it declare itself  to them, seek to let themselves be told by the mystery what it is. They will acknowledge that this is a mystery that is not conceivable in ordinary human thought — it is a miracle. And if they know something of this miracle they will know that even their knowing of it is a very wonderful thing, that it is an act of God. They know the mystery by faith, in the power of the Spirit, but not by themselves alone. It is a gift of God. That belongs to the very content of the doctrine of the virgin birth and its significance for our knowing of Christ.[1]

[1] Thomas F. Torrance, Incarnation: The Person and Life of Christ, 87-88.

 

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Ascension Day Theology by way of Thomas Torrance and John Knox

As Christians we often think about the theology of cross, and the hope of the resurrection (as we should!); but often what gets lost is a theology of the Ascension, and what that means for both now, and the future. Colossians 2, and the language of pleroma, or the plenitude of God’s fullness embodied in Christ dovetails with this, and the primacy of Christ’s life for creation as we are lead into chapter two from chapter one of Colossians, starting in verse 15. Without the ascension we would have no hope of salvation, no assurance of salvation, no High Priestly praying for us by Jesus, and no hope for final and bodily consummation. So the ascension, beyond just signifying that Jesus is above all, and beyond being the means by which he left this earth for the eyewitnesses to see, provides for us a multitude of other hopes and assurances; that without which, we would be a pitiable mass. Here is how Thomas Torrance makes this significant in a discussion he is providing for how ascension functioned in the theology of Scottish reformer, John Knox:

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Knox laid unusually strong emphasis on the ascension of Jesus Christ in the self-same body which was born of the Virgin Mary, and was crucified, dead and buried and which rose again, and very rightly. It is one of the most neglected doctrines of the Faith. Ascension is not just an addendum to the story of Jesus, a ringing down of the curtain on his earthly life, but it is one of the great essential salvation events. The ascension of the Lord Jesus is the inauguration of the Kingdom of God over the whole creation, but as centred in Christ it is the Kingdom of Christ. What did the ascension do?

(1) It was the completion of the Incarnation event. He who descended also ascended. The very same body which had been born of the Virgin Mary, was crucified, and died and was buried, ascended into heaven, for the accomplishment of all things. Thus the saving work of Christ reaches up into eternity, into the ultimate mystery of God.

(2) The union of God and man in Christ was assumed into the immediate presence of God the Father on his throne — there Christ wears our human life, and it is in our name that he is there at the right hand of God the Father Almighty, standing in for us.

(3) In our name and for our comfort he ascended to take possession of his Kingdom, to inaugurate it and enlarge it. There he is given and receives all power in heaven and on earth — there the crucified Christ sits at the right hand of power and glory.

(4) The Heavenly Session of Christ speaks of the fact that he ever lives to make intercession for us as our Advocate and High Priest and only Mediator, and prays and intercedes for us. This is the teaching of the Epistle of Hebrews, and plays a central role in Knox’s doctrine of the Lord’s Supper.

(5) In his ascension Christ opened the heavens into which we may appear in him before the throne of the Father’s mercy. Christ’s ascension is the ground of our comfort and assurance. It is the ascended Christ who sends us his Spirit, the Comforter. Thus the full meaning of the ascension is to be discerned in relation to the outpouring of the Holy Spirit upon the Church. It is in this light that the Church of Christ is to be understood, as ‘the blessed society which we the members have with our Head and only Mediator Christ Jesus, whom we confess and avow to be the Messiah promised, the only Head of his Kirk, our just Lawgiver, our only High Priest, Advocate and Mediator.

Thomas F. Torrance, Scottish Theology: From John Knox to John McLeod Campbell (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1996), 21-2.

We need this perspective more than ever! We need to know that Jesus is Lord, that history is his-story, and that the chaos of this world has already been reordered (I say by faith) by the coming of the Son of Man. Jesus is Lord, that is what his session at the right hand of the Father asserts, in a loud trumpeting way; in such a way that we ought to be quiet before Him as he sits upon his throne.

I am really burdened right now about what is going on in the Christian church, and in culture at large. My guess is that Jesus is about to step off of his throne only to finally come and announce, by sight, that he indeed is King of kings and Lord of lords; and to set to rights what the world has set to wrongs.

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How Erasmus’ Mood Impacts the Development and Posture of an Evangelical Calvinist

When I first came across the reality of late medieval scholasticism at work in the Roman Catholic Church, and then later in the Post Reformed orthodox period of the Protestant Reformation, it brought a lot together for me. As a method the scholastic approach was a dialectic, one that went like this: 1) thesis, 2) anti-thesis, 3) synthesis, 4) synthesis becomes the new thesis, 5) so on and so forth. It’s easy to see how an approach like this over a period of centuries could remove the exegete and theologian further and further away from the realities disclosed afresh and anew in Holy Scripture. It was this commentary-building tradition, which had become normative for the medieval church, which someone like Martin Luther protested against. It was the movement known as Christian Humanism that kicked against such an approach, and instead trumpted a call of ad fontes (‘back to the sources’).

Lorenzo Valla was one of the forerunners of Christian Humanism and helped to foster the culture which would finally allow for the Protestant Reformation; a culture wherein folks, like Luther and Erasmus, were encouraged to read the Bible and the Church Fathers for themselves; in the original languages to boot. I want to highlight the contribution that Erasmus made to all of this in this post. It is this type of mood that turned me to someone like Karl Barth and Thomas Torrance, and allowed me to see how the Reformation actually turned into a type of magesterium in itself, regulated by its own commentary tradition which the Westminster Confession of Faith illustrates.

Erika Rummel writes this of Erasmus’s approach, and his posture against scholastic theology:

Erasmus strongly objected to scholastic theology with its emphasis on dialectical reasoning. In his eyes, a purely academic theology was useless for providing guidance to Christians in their daily life. Rhetoric, by contrast, fulfilled that mediating function which allowed God’s injuctions to take root in the human heart. The Word of God was inherently rhetorical in the sense that it had persuasive and redemptive power; theologia rhetorica, unlike scholastic theology, pointed the way to the Word and aroused ‘a new zeal for the true religion of the gospel’. This message remains constant in Erasmus’ writings. It informs the Paraclesis (‘Invitation’), first published with his New Testament edition in 1516, and constitutes the dominant theme in his last original work, a manual of preaching entitled Ecclesiastes (‘The preacher’). In the Paraclesis Erasmus devoutly wished for an eloquence that would not only beguile the reader but enter his heart and transform his very soul. In the Ecclesiastes Erasmus outlines the task of the preacher in similar terms. He must be persuasive so that the congregation can hear in his sermons the voice of God. Again he uses the images of rapture and transformation to indicate the power of the theologia rhetorica. The practical moral impact of the preacher and the theologian – that is, of sermon and exegesis – is of utmost importance to Erasmus. The parallels between the prolegomena to the New Testament and his manual of preaching show that in his opinion the task of the preacher and that of the exegete converged. It was therefore appropriate to focus attention on language and on the rhetorical power of scripture. Because the Word of God has the power to transform, Erasmus wanted the laity directly exposed to the text: ‘Let the farmer sing a passage from the Bible at the plough, the weaver hum a passage to the movement of his shuttle, the traveler lighten the weariness of his journey with biblical stories!’[1]

There is some irony here. If you speak to a classically Calvinist person today they will claim to be part of the ad fontes tradition; and, indeed, in the beginning Reformed theology was motivated by that tradition (catch the irony of how tradition is inescapable). But over time, and particularly as it once again became ensconced within a Ramist/Agricolan locus methodology, the scholastic dialectic was once again imbibed and a whole new magisterium was created. Today we can witness, when speaking to a classically Calvinist person, the role that the three forms of unity might have (i.e. Heidelberg Catechism, Belgic Confession, Canons of Dordt), or more significantly the Westminster Standards. It really isn’t possible, even though they affirm that all else is subordinate to Scripture, for them to come to Scripture in an ‘back to the sources’ type of way since they see their standards as regulative and the most faithful interpretations of the text.

This is what evangelical Calvinism, of the sort I endorse, repudiates, and instead follows the lead and sense of someone like Erasmus. Clearly, we, as evangelical Calvinists don’t come to the same conclusions, theologically, as Erasmus on many things—in fact we probably agree much more with our classically Reformed brethren on many things, at least at an inchoate level—but we do follow his approach when it comes to bucking scholastic theology and always already moving back to the sources (i.e. Holy Scripture as the normative attestation to its reality in Jesus Christ).

Evangelical Calvinists are committed to a dialogical theology, an approach that works immediately after the fact that God has spoken (Deus dixit) in Christ as His most faithful and authoritative self-explication. We believe, like Erasmus, in pointing to an immediate encounter with the lively reality of the text of Holy Scripture as that breaks off in Christ who mediates us by grace through his vicarious humanity into the inner sanctum of the Triune life. We believe that Revelation, and Scripture as a subset of revelation, is an event; it isn’t something that we can control, or layer through tradition-making, but instead it is God in Christ confronting us afresh and anew moment by moment speaking His Lordly and Sovereign self to us as He draws us deeper and deeper into the realization of all that He is and all that we have because of who He is for us and with us.

Solo Christo; Sola Scriptura; Soli Deo Gloria

 

[1] Erika Rummel, The theology of Erasmus in David Bagchi and David C. Steinmetz eds., The Cambridge Companion to Reformation Theology (UK: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 33-4.

Posted in Classical Theism, Critiquing Classic Calvinism, Cultural Calvinism, Erasmus, Evangelical Calvinism, Historical Theology | Leave a comment

The Relationship Between Philosophy and Christian Theology: A Theology of the Word

What is it that I have against Philosophy; I mean what did it ever do to me? Nothing really. Except when it is used in place of or even as Christian Theology, proper, it’s at that point that it starts to intrude into my life, and more importantly the church’s life in such a way that I believe the Gospel and theology done from and through the Gospel gets distorted. I know many think this is naïve, but it’s all a matter of method; that is, how ought a genuinely Christian theology be done, and where from? One of the primary principles of the Protestant Reformation is that Scripture, the Word is where all theology for the church of Jesus Christ ought to be done from; I couldn’t agree more. But what that meant, as far as explicating the inner-logic of Scripture (so theology), was based too much in Aristotelian metaphysics, to the point that that type of (substance) metaphysic distorted the intention of Reformed theologian’s task. Yes, the intention was always good, but the tools available to the Protestant Reformed, particularly in the 16th and 17th centuries, were not, I contend, compatible with the Gospel; in other words, the metaphysic was not amenable to being evangelized by the Gospel.

Philosophy is good at observing things empirically and horizontally, from the human condition, and attempting to abstract “metaphysical” reality from that vantage point; but Christian theology, a genuine approach, doesn’t start there. Christian theology starts from above and only works a posteriori (or from ‘what’s in front of us’) as Deus absconditus (the hidden God) becomes Deus revelatus (the revealed God) in Jesus Christ. In other words, Christian theology is distinct from Philosophy (of Religion), as such the “metaphysic” appealed to for the Christian theologian must be determined by the Logos (Word) o f God. God is his own metaphysic; indeed God is meta-metaphysical. In other words, if the human agent in general wants to have access to this ‘hidden God’ then they must come through the veil of his flesh in Christ. Yes, this might sound foolish or weak, but it is the way of the Christian theologian.

This all does beg the question: Is there a metaphysic for the Christian theologian then? One of my theologian friends (in person) asked me this, in the context of my affection for Barth. I suppose the closest we could get to that, in my view, is Barth’s type of actualism[1]; i.e. being in becoming. It is this kind of “metaphysic” that I see as much more corollary with the reality of Gospel; it gets away from the ‘Pure Being’ static type of conception of God that Aristotle and other philosophers provide for, and of which classical theism and Post Reformed orthodoxy have drunk from so freely. In light of this I thought it would be apropos to hear from Barth himself on how he sees the relationship between Philosophy and genuine Christian Theology which is radically Logocentric and/or Word based. Barth writes:

Theology’s essential hypothesis, or axiom, is revelation, which is God’s own act done in His Word and through His Spirit. How shall this axiom be exhibited or determined? It cannot be done directly, but indirectly. Not positively by negatively. Not by setting it a bound among other sciences. Theology would be falsified or misinterpreted, betrayed or given up, if it sought to make its fundamental assumption or axiom a direct and tangible exhibit. Theology would have ceased to be theology, if it sought to, or could, justify itself. It has always been forsaken by its guardian angels above, every time it has sought to take this way.

For example, is there anything more hopeless than the attempt that has been made in the last two hundred years with ever-increasing enthusiasm to create a systematic link-up, or synthesis, or even a discriminate relationship, between the realms of theology and philosophy? Has there been one reputable philosopher who has paid the least attention to the work which the theologians have attempted in this direction? Has it not become apparent that the anxiety and uncertainty with which we pursued this course only reminded us that we can pursue this course only with an uneasy conscience? Theology can become noticed by philosophy only after that moment when it no longer seeks to be interesting. Its relation to philosophy can become positive and fruitful only after it resolutely refuses to be itself a philosophy and refuses to demonstrate and base its existence upon a principle with, or alongside of, philosophy.[2]

Clearly, from this quote we can see the period that Barth has in his sights in particular; i.e. his ‘modern’ antecedents (e.g. Hermann, Schleiermacher, Kant, Hegel, et al.). And I would be remiss if I didn’t note how appreciative Barth actually was of many of the themes provided for by the Post Reformed orthodox, or we might call them the scholasticism reformed theologians. Nevertheless, what’s at stake here is a critique of how philosophy is ‘synthesized’ and appropriated by Christian theologians.

If we are going to do a genuine Christian theology, the Christian theologian, I believe, will avail themselves of the best grammar available to them. In other words, they won’t, at a formal level, commit themselves to a period of theologizing as if that period is inherently sacrosanct and limit themselves to the theological grammar of that period. Instead they will be driven more by the expectations of the Gospel itself, as if the Gospel is lively and is anew and afresh today; we might call this the ‘Gospel for Today’ approach. The theologian will resource whatever they can with the goal of allowing the Gospel itself to determine its own categories and emphases; and if the theologian comes across “metaphysics” that comport with the reality that God is indeed lively and dynamic in his inner-being as revealed in Christ, then the theologian will adjust themselves accordingly. In my view, what’s more important is that the categories of the Gospel itself be determinative of what is orthodox versus what is heterodox; I think if we follow this then we won’t be afraid of some of the important gains that modern theology has afforded the church of Jesus Christ.

On a material point: Something that Barth&co. did was identify the import that a theology of the Word has for the Protestant theologian, but then he/they developed that further. He (Barth) saw Christ as the ‘Word’ that ‘God has spoken’ (Deus dixit) for the world; for the church. As such this changes the manner and indeed the way “metaphysics” are commingled with the Gospel itself. In other words, things change when the Word with whom we have to do is the second person of the Triune Godhead (Monarxia). The theologian recognizes that God in Christ is alive, and ever present; the theologian while bounded by the text of Scripture, realizing that as being within the ‘Domain of the Word,’ recognizes that He is Risen! as such the theologian continues to engage theologically as if we can actually grow in the grace and knowledge of Jesus Christ. The theologian starts with the Word, and sees the living Word as determinative of who God is and how we ought to engage with Scripture itself. But the point is, is that the Word is genuinely alive; as such the theologian should want to seek out a way to articulate that for the church in such a way that comports with the lively reality of God’s inner life. The theologian should move away from theologies that have attempted to synthesize God with a philosophy that sees God as ‘Pure Being’ and all the attendant baggage associated with that.

[1] See this definition of actualism in Barth’s theology:

“Actualism” is the motif which governs Barth’s complex conception of being and time. Being is always an event and often an act (always an act whenever an agent capable of decision is concerned). The relationship between divine being and human being is one of the most vexed topics in Barth interpretation, and one on which the essay at hand hopes to shed some light. For now let it simply be said, however cryptically, that the possibility for the human creature to act faithfully in relation to the divine creator is thought to rest entirely in the divine act, and therefore continually befalls the human creature as a miracle to be sought ever anew. (Hunsinger, How to Read Karl Barth, 16.) Also see this post

[2] Karl Barth, God In Action (Manhasset, NY: Round Table Press, 1963), 41-2.

Posted in Barth, Evangelical Calvinism, Reformed Theology, Systematic Theology | 7 Comments

Jim Cassidy’s ‘Essential Van Til’: An Alert Post

Jim Cassidy, PhD Westminster Theological Seminary (2014), over at Reformed Forum just kicked off a series of posts that will be engaging with Karl Barth’s theology as understood through Cornelius Van Til. Van Til for Westminster folks, such as Cassidy, carries a weight for them such as Karl Barth and Thomas Torrance carries for us Evangelical Calvinists. Cassidy and I have some history in regard to having some lively exchanges about Barth, Van Til, et al.; particularly on Facebook (in the past). Anyway, I thought I would alert you all to Cassidy’s planned spate of posts (and it looks like he plans on at least an essay or book coming out of it) with all of this in mind. What you will really find interesting, as you read his article, is that part of his motivation has been prompted by yours truly, and us Evangelical Calvinists; he mentions us in his post.

Anyway, head on over to Jim’s post and check it out. I’ll be following it, and as a blogger you can bet that I will be posting responses to some of Jim’s posts. The particular post you will read from Jim doesn’t present anything very controversial or objectionable at all; I have no doubt that Van Til works from the concept that God is Triune. Of course how Van Til comes to that conclusion, extra Scripture, might be worthy of a post, at least. But nonetheless I don’t find anything too objectionable about this first post from Cassidy. Click the following link to read Jim’s post:

The Essential Van Til — Introduction and the Trinity

Posted in Cornelius Van Til | 9 Comments

A Roman Catholic’s (Hans Urs von Balthasar’s) Doctrine of Scripture: Christ, the Holy Ground that Makes Scripture Holy and Intelligible

As a Reformed Protestant Christian Holy Scripture is very important to me, for obvious reasons. But of course how we understand and develop a doctrine of Scripture, and its ontology relative to God, is diffuse. I am prone, also obviously (at this point) to follow Karl Barth’s theory of revelation, and how that implicates, then, the development of a so called theology of the Word. In light of that, then, the following quote (I’m about to share) from Roman Catholic theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar might seem ironic (since he is well, Roman Catholic). But what you’ll see is that what Balthasar offers, as he argues from his ‘aesthetic’ and ‘beauty’ based theological paradigm, is that what he articulates in regard to Scripture’s ontology is quite coordinate with what we might find in Karl Barth’s or even Thomas Torrance’s understanding of Scripture. You will also read something in the quote that I don’t fully agree with, even if I think it can be qualified in such a way that still fits within say something like Barth’s threefold form of the Word, or the classical Reformed’s fourfold form of the Word (well at least in a kind of incidental way). Here is what von Balthasar has to say about the Word:

It was this image, seen with the eyes of faith and of faith’s insight, that the eye-witnesses rendered, first, an oral and then a written testimony. And, just as the Holy Spirit was in their eyes so that the image should spring into view, so, too, was he in their mouth and in their pen so that the likeness (Nachbild)which they drew up of the original image (Ur-Bild) should  correspond to the vision which God’s Holy Spirit himself possesses of God’s self-representation in the flesh. We must, then, repeat that Scripture is not the Word itself, but rather the Spirit’s testimony concerning the Word, which springs from an indissoluble bond and marriage between the Spirit and those eyewitnesses who were originally invited and admitted to the vision. With such an understanding of Scripture, we can say further that its testimony possesses and inner form which is canonical simply by being such a form, and for this reason we can ‘go behind’ this form only at the risk of losing both image and Spirit conjointly. Only the final result of the historical developments which lie behind the text—a history never to be adequately reconstructed—may be said to be inspired, not the bits and scraps which philological analysis thinks it can tear loose from the finished totality in order, as it were, to steal up to the form from behind in the hope of enticing it to betray its mystery by exposing its development. Does it not make one suspicious when Biblical philology’s first move in its search for an ‘understanding’ of its texts is to dissect their form into sources, psychological motivations, and the sociological effects of milieu, even before the form has been really contemplated and read its meaning as form? For we can be sure of one thing: we can never again recapture the living totality of form once it has been dissected and sawed into pieces, no matter how informative the conclusions which this anatomy may bring to light. Anatomy can be practiced only on a dead body, since it is opposed to the movement of life and seeks to pass from the whole to its parts and elements. It is not impossible that certain relations within the canonical form itself may occasionally call for and justify such a procedure. But one should first ask whether such attempts to work back ‘scientifically’ to real or alleged sources are not most useful when they once again demonstrate the indivisibility of the definitively expressed Word. With respect to our scholars, may we not credit the Holy Spirit with a little divine humour, a little divine irony? And would it be wholly erroneous to find some connection between this divine irony and humour and the Gospel’s fourfold form? This would suggest that the unique and divine plasticity of the living, incarnate Word could not be witnessed to other than through this system of perspectives which, although it cannot be further synthesized, compensates for this by offering a stereoscopic vista. And the divine irony would further suggest that the main fruits to be gathered from the very unfruitfulness and failure of the scientific experiment would be the every clearer exigency of returning to the one thing necessary. We must return to the primary contemplation of what is really said, really presented to us, really meant. Regardless of how distasteful this may be to some, we must stress that, in the Christian realm, such contemplation exactly corresponds to the aesthetic contemplation that steadily and patiently beholds those forms which either nature or art offers to its view. Inspiration in its totality is to be grasped only in the form, never in psychology and biography. And, therefore, it any kind of Biblical philology is to be fruitful, it must have its point of departure in form and must lead back to it. Only ‘Scripture’ itself possesses the power and the authority to point authentically to the highest figure that has ever walked upon the earth, a figure in keeping with whose sovereignty it is to create for himself a body by which to express himself. But a body is itself a ‘field’, and it requires another ‘field’ in which to expand, a field part of whose form it must already be if it is to stand in contrast to it. Christ’s existence and his teachings would not be a comprehensible form if it were not for his rootedness in a salvation-history that leads up to him. Both in his union with this history and in his relief from it, Christ becomes for us the image that reveals the invisible God. Even Scripture is not an isolated book, but rather is embedded in the context of everything created, established, and effected by Christ—the total reality constituted by his work and activity in the world. Only in this context is the form of Scripture perceivable.[1]

If you’re familiar at all with Brevard Child’s canonical critical approach, or Barth’s second naïveté approach, or Thomas Torrance’s mediation of Christ approach, or George Lindbeck’s cultural linguistic approach, or Matthew Levering’s participatory approach; then what Balthasar is communicating might be familiar to you, at some level or resonance anyway.

The only real pushback I’d offer Balthasar is against his claim that Scripture is not properly understood as the Word. Scripture itself, in its own “self-understanding,” canonically read, refers to itself as the Word of God (see Hebrews 4:12 and its surrounding near context). But that said, Balthasar’s basic point is well taken. Scripture itself is part of a web of realities and finds its orientation and “Holiness” (as John Webster so eloquently argues!) only insofar as it is properly situated within the economy of God’s Triune life. Scripture has an ‘ontology’ (or ‘being’) relative to the ‘order’ provided for, again, in the economy of God’s life—which is reference to his penetration into the world, in a God-world relation, wherein he has chosen to accommodate himself to and for us, within the created and contingent realm of things wherein humans have been given space to function in a coherent and intelligible fashion; but only because God by his Word, has graciously and freely chosen for that to be the outcome of things (i.e. creation and now recreation itself). In other words, per Balthasar’s basic premise, Scripture has no context or importance without its primary context provided for by the living reality of God’s Word who is Jesus Christ, the eternal Son (cf. John 1:1). We see how Balthasar thinks this doctrine of Scripture impacts how we interpret it.

Which brings up another important point: I would contend along with Balthasar, that attempting to access Scripture’s meaning apart from Christ as regulative of that, apart from a dialogical context wherein the interpreter is in ongoing contact with Scripture’s reality through prayer (i.e. Christ and the Triune life), that mere text-critical analysis will never be able to get at what Scripture is really all about; i.e. encounter with the living God in Jesus Christ. If Jesus is the context of Holy Scripture, if he is the Holy ground of Scripture, then to not take our sandals off on that ground, and tremble (cf. Is. 66), means we will skip off the real meaning of Scripture every time! Balthasar is onto something.

[1] Hans Urs Von Balthasar, The Glory of the Lord: A Theological Aesthetics. I: Seeing the Form (San Francisco: Igantius Press/New York: Crossroad Publication, 1983), 31-2.

Posted in Doctrine of Scripture, Hans Urs von Balthasar, Ontology Of Scripture | Leave a comment

John Webster on Scripture as Witness with Reference to Barth and the Reformed

John Webster on a constructive way into Barth’s doctrine of Scripture, and the role that testimony ought to play in a general doctrine of Scripture.

Much less likely to beguile us into such problems is a third concept, namely that  of Scripture as prophetic and apostolic testimony, much used by Barth throughout his writings, but found elsewhere in Reformed theology. What makes this a particularly helpful term is the way in which it retains the human character of the biblical materials without neglect of their reference to the Word and work of God. The very genre of ‘testimony’ — as language which attests a reality other than itself — is especially fitting for depicting how a creaturely entity may undertake a function in the divine economy, without resort to concepts which threaten to divinise the text, since — like prophecy or apostolic witness — testimony is not about itself but is a reference beyond itself. However, some careful specification is needed, because the notion of Scripture as human testimony to God’s revealing activity can suggest a somewhat accidental relation between the text and revelation. This is especially the case when the essential unsuitability or creaturely fragility of the testimony is so stressed (in order to protect the purity of the divine Word) that there appears to be little intrinsic relation between the texts and the revelation to which they witness. In this way, the annexation of the Bible to revelation can appear almost arbitrary: the text is considered a complete and purely natural entity taken up into the self-communication of God. The result is a curious textual equivalent of adoptionism. If the difficulty is to be retarded, however, it has to be by careful dogmatic depiction of the wider scope of the relation between God and the text, most of all by offering a theological description of the activity of God the Holy Spirit in sanctifying all the processes of the text’s production, preservation and interpretation. Thereby the rather slender account of divine action vis-à-vis the text is filled out, without falling into the problems of undermining the creatureliness of the text which afflict talk of accommodation or the analogy of the hypostatic union.[1]

[1] John Webster, Holy Scripture: A Dogmatic Sketch, 23-4.

 

Posted in Barth, Doctrine of Scripture, John Webster | 1 Comment

Gannon Murphy On: To truly know God is to love him. Religion and Piety As a Frame for Knowing God

By now you know that our second Evangelical Calvinism book was just released, the full title being: Evangelical Calvinism: Volume 2: Dogmatics&Devotion. But as you also know Myk and I had a volume 1 Evangelical Calvinism book published under the title: Evangelical Calvinism: Essays Resourcing the Continuing Reformation of the Church (which this subtitle is also attached to our second volume as well). This post will be referencing one of the chapters found in EC1; a chapter written by Gannon Murphy on knowledge of God in John Calvin’s thought.

What I want to focus on, in regard to Gannon’s chapter is his brief but profound development of how the Latin terms religio and pietas function in Calvin’s theological offering when it comes to knowledge of God. As Murphy points out Calvin’s conception of knowledge of God was never a disembodied one; in fact it was more existential. It was never really a philosophical or abstract engagement with some sort of abstract brute conception of a substance that we could correlate through abstract reasoning to the God disclosed in Holy Scripture and Jesus Christ. No, as Murphy argues, for Calvin, knowledge of God was something more akin to knowledge in God; more particularly in Christ. Gannon up-points how the concepts of religio and pietas functioned in this type of dialogical/existential mode for the Christian knower coram Deo (‘before God’). Gannon writes (at length):

Religio and Pietas

The very beginning of the Institutes commences in a statement concerning that which constitutes true wisdom, to wit, that wisdom “consists almost entirely of two parts: the knowledge of God and of ourselves.” Some theologians have argued that this first statement is actually the entire point of the Institutes, a contestable, but not entirely meritless, claim.

It is perhaps customary in our technological age to think of knowledge as a purely apprehensive or propositional enterprise—we have knowledge of this object, or that thing, or such-and-such a set of data. The key to preserving Calvin’s doctrine of knowledge (cognitione), however, is to see it as something much fuller and more “holistic.” In sum, to truly know God is to love him. Theological knowledge is not merely propositional in nature or a matter of mere intellectual assent (assensus). Rather, it must also be experiential, stemming from love that also manifests itself in adoration, trust, fear, and obedience to God. Edward Dowey, for example, refers to Calvin’s concept of knowledge, as “existential knowledge.” The idea of coming to God merely in mind is an utterly foreign concept throughout the Calvinian corpus. Further, Calvin (like Luther) alludes to the nonsensical nature of conceiving of God as a mere object of knowledge.

Calvin uses the terms religio and pietas which, unfortunately, do not translate well into our English words, religion and piety, both of which tend to connote merely a system of ecclesiology or perfunctory, external religious observance. Both words in the Latin, however, denote something much deeper. Re-ligio derives from re, “again” and ligere, “to literally means “careful,” the opposite of negligens. Religio, then, means something more along the lines of “careful attention to” and to be “rebound.” Pietas, while often suggesting merely “dutifulness,” is better understood as “dutiful kindness,” stemming from the Latin root pius (literally, “kind”). Thus, pietas is friendly obedience toward the things of God. It is the perfect opposite of animosity toward godly things—to find oneself welcoming of, and delighting in, his or her Creator.

Calvin, characteristically never wanting to be misunderstood but always desiring clarity for his readers, defines religio as, “confidence in God coupled with serious fear—fear, which both includes in it willing reverence, and brings along with it such legitimate worship as is prescribed by the law.” On the other hand, pietas is “that union of reverence and love to God which the knowledge of his benefits inspires.” Expounded here is something rather far removed from trajectories that find natural theology as their starting point—the idea of an irrefragable knowledge of God garnered apart from reverence and revelation, that is, a special and specific Word from God. Rather, Calvin speaks of the first step of pietas being, “to acknowledge that God is a Father, to defend, govern, and cherish us, until he brings us to the eternal inheritance of his kingdom.”

That true knowledge of God cannot be torn asunder from pietas and religio means, then, that overly-philosophical speculation about the essence or substance of God is necessarily ruled out. Calvin derides such pursuits as “Epicurean,” as “frigid speculations,” and admonishes us rather to seek out “what things are agreeable to his nature.”[1]

Personally this resonates with me deeply; which is why Murphy’s chapter is so apropos in a book with the title Evangelical Calvinism. It is this embodied way of knowing God, by loving God that represents the proper kind of ‘pure religion’ and piety that Jesus himself claims sums up all of the Law and Prophets:

36 “Teacher, which is the great commandment in the Law?” 37 And He said to him, “‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ 38 This is the great and foremost commandment. 39 The second is like it, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ 40 On these two commandments depend the whole Law and the Prophets.”[2]

What this Calvinian mode towards knowledge of God kicks against, ironically, is any approach that would attempt to know God through discursive reasoning, or philosophical abstraction. What Calvin’s approach admonishes us to is to approach God through God in Christ en concreto (specific); through the realization that genuine knowledge of God is never an abstract academic endeavor, it always entails the particular and scandalous approach to God that only comes through the Lamb slain before the foundations of the world. In other words, genuine religion and piety,  relative to the Christian, involves a committed and lively relationship with God; but one that is not initiated by humans in abstraction, instead one that is unilaterally provided for by the initiation and election of God in Christ. Some might consider this relational way for conceiving of knowledge of God as foolish and weak; but so goes the way of the Gospel.

What this all avoids is presenting a knowledge of God that is rooted, again, in philosophical speculation and even what counts today, most, as what it means to do good Christian evangelical theology. What we want to avoid, which Dag Hammarskjöld so eloquently describes is a presentation of a knowledge of the faith that in the end is perceptibly empty by the discerning and reflective human Christian or even non-Christian would-be knower. Note Hammarskjöld: “‘How many have been driven into outer darkness by empty talk about faith as something to be rationally comprehended, something “true”’.[3] If we follow Calvin’s lead, according to Gannon, we won’t be ‘driven into outer darkness’ when coming to know God in Christ; instead because of union and participation in and from life in Christ we will be “irresistibly” drawn deeper and deeper into the winsome and ineffable inner life of God, in Christ, wherein an effervescent and luminous knowledge of God’s life, by experience (properly understood), will be ever increasing and ever inviting.

Leaving on a Personal Note

I honestly do not think this is the approach people in the 21st century evangelical church, particularly in North America and the West, are being provided with. Instead, contra Calvin, what folks are being fed is a pablum of religio and pietas that come in that name only. In other words, people are being encouraged, if they want to press deep into God, to engage with God from a philosophical and ‘natural’ approach to him. What makes this hard for folks to discern is that so much of what they are being fed has been conflated and couched in a Christian (i.e. Reformed) heritage that has this type of heart-warmed-over affectionate “piety” associated with it; but when that person digs deeper into the intellectual framework that is funding this “piety” what in fact they will find is a highly philosophical apparatus for knowing God that has more to do with the classical Philosophers of ancient Greece than it does with God’s Self-revelation in Jesus Christ.

It seriously agitates me that this is what counts as engaging with God for the evangelical Christian today. I blame institutions such as The Gospel Coalition, Together 4 the Gospel, and other associations of evangelicals for much of this; i.e. at least as this is making its way into the broader community of evangelical Christians in North America. We need to return to the sources, ad fontes, truly; but may that be understood to be genuinely rooted in God’s Self-revelation in Jesus Christ alone. May that be understood to be grounded in an actual framework that genuinely is relational and personal, and works from the “foundation” that the Triune God is indeed ‘the ground and grammar’ of all things; particularly and mostly of knowledge of Godself.

[1] Gannon Murphy, Pietas, Religio, and the God Who Is, in Myk Habets and Bobby Grow eds., Evangelical Calvinism: Essays Resourcing the Continuing Reformation of the Church (Eugene, OR: Pickwick Publications an Imprint of Wipf&Stock Publishers, 2012), 159-60.

[2] NASB.

[3] See Jason Goroncy’s post, On Empty Talk About Faith, accessed 05-16-2017.

Posted in Evangelical Calvinism, Evangelical Calvinism Book, John Calvin | 1 Comment

A Nostalgic Post: Revisiting the Pyromaniacs and Some Response and Surprise in regard to Phil Johnson

If you have been following my blogging from the beginning (which my guess is at this point is that hardly anyone of you has — started in 2005) you will recognize the names that are prominent in this post. When I first realized there ever was such a thing as a theoblogosphere (or bibliosphere) one of the first blogs I ran into was Phil Johnson’s (at that point) Pyromaniac blog. As a newly minted seminary grad I felt armed with a knowledge of historical and biblical theology that I thought I could offer a constructive and critical voice for the members of Phil’s community; so I started my commenting career. Mind you, if you don’t know, Phil Johnson is and has been for years, John MacArthur’s executive director for Mac’s Grace To You radio program, as well as MacArthur’s editor for all things published; he also serves as a staff pastor at MacArthur’s church in Sun Valley, CA: Grace Community Church. After maybe a year or so, relative to my time visiting his blog, he expanded his blogging efforts by making his blog a group blog with his friends Frank Turk and Dan Phillips; he renamed it in the plural: Pyromaniacs.

Suffice it to say, they weren’t a fan of me; particularly Frank Turk and Dan Phillips. How do I know this? Because almost everyone of their responses to me was snarky. You see, the Pyromaniacs, along with MacArthur, are ardent Baptistic Spurgeonite 5 Point Calvinists; and of course I’m not! As a result of my training in seminary in the area of historical theology, and the mentorship I’d received under Dr Ron Frost in this area, I’d become aware of the antecedent and informing history of ideas wherein something as reductionistic as 5 Point Calvinism had taken shape—reductionistic in the sense that 5 Point Calvinism is not the full basket of what genuine Reformed theology entails (but it is what shapes the theology of John MacArthur, and indeed, the Pyromaniacs). So I’m still “friends” with Phil Johnson on Facebook, and just today he posted the following.

I was somewhat taken aback. And so I left the following comment to which Phil responded, then I responded; so on and so forth.

But it was this Martin Lloyd Jones point about the role of interpretive tradition that I constantly was banging on in my comments at the Pyromaniacs’ blog; and it was this that mostly Frank Turk, Dan Phillips (less Phil Johnson), and a host of their regular commenters responded to me with vitriol for. Just as I note in my comment to Phil on Facebook, it was the Aristotelian basis of their 5 Point Calvinist theology that I wanted folks to at least recognize as the informing theology in regard to how they were coming to their exegetical conclusions. I wanted the MacArthurites to stop and be critical about their Bible reading and study, and recognize that they weren’t reading ‘pure Bible,’ that they indeed were committed to a particular metaphysic which had real life consequences on their theological and spiritual thinking. I never got an amen from Frank or Dan on that; usually, again, it was always just pure snark.

So when Phil said what he said in his comment to me today—i.e. that it just proves I never understood them—it left me scratching my head. But it was nice to see that at least Phil, in principle, could admit that he has interpretive tradition. Of course he’s convinced his interpretive tradition is completely correlative with what the Bible teaches; but it’s a step in the right direction when any of us can admit we have interpretive tradition operative in our Bible reading and biblical exegesis. So I just wanted to give a kudos to, Phil Johnson for affirming what I so laboriously tried to get across to his comrades so many years ago: Kudos, Phil!

Posted in Pyromaniacs | 1 Comment

Language About God’s Life: How Language Ought to Be Transformed By God’s Self-Revelation in Theological Discourse

As Trinitarians Christians often, and rightly, refer to the inner reality of God’s singular life as his ousia or ‘being.’ The fear might be that Christians might be imposing Hellenistic (i.e. classical Greek philosophical) categories onto God thus morphing him into an tertium quid, or even worse something completely alien to who he actually is. This is the critique I often bring against classical Calvinists in their deployment of Aristotle to articulate their Pure Being theology relative to the Christian God;[1] I don’t think they are successful in allowing the Revelation to determine the language’s shape; I think they carry over too much of the Aristotelian philosophical implications in their endeavor to give grammar to articulating God for human understanding. As such, I think they eschew everything else downstream; i.e. whether that be in the area of doctrine of creation, theory of revelation, theory of history, doctrine of Scripture, soteriology, so on and so forth.

Us Evangelical Calvinists, like classical Calvinists (and other iterations of classical theists), also use the Hellenic language of ‘being’ and ‘persons’ (hypostases), among other expressions. But unlike—and here I’ll just keep picking on the classical Calvinists—the classical Calvinists, or as Richard Muller calls it, the “Christian Aristotelians,”[2] we follow Athanasius’s style and mode in regard to allowing the antecedent and ontological reality of God’s life to give shape and reify the Hellenic language of ‘being’ and ‘persons’; our intention is to allow God’s Self-revelation to retext the Hellenic language in such a way that the language’s meaning itself becomes brand new (recreated even) because of the new context it finds itself in (since context determines meaning anyway). Thomas Torrance explains how this worked out in the Athansian mode:

Athanasius much preferred to use verbs rather than nouns when speaking of God as the mighty living and acting God, for abstract terms or substantives seemed to him (as indeed to the biblical writers) to be inappropriate in speaking about the dynamic Nature of God, or in expressing who God is who makes himself known to us in his mighty acts of deliverance and salvation. For Athanasius, here as elsewhere, the precise meaning of theological terms is to be found in their actual use under the transforming impact of divine revelation. This is how he believed that the words ousia and hypostasis were used at the Council of Nicaea, not in the abstract Greek sense but in a concrete personal sense governed by God’s self-revelation in the incarnation. He preferred a functional and flexible use of language in which the meaning of words varied in accordance with the nature of the realities intended and with the general scope of thought or discourse at the time. Hence he retained the freedom to vary the sense of the words he used in different contexts, and declined to be committed to a fixed formalisation of any specific theological term for all context which might have violated his semantic principle that terms are not prior to realities but realities come first and terms second. This intention is nowhere more evident than in his cautious and differential use of human terms to speak of the Being of God or the Subsistence of Persons in the doctrine of the Holy Trinity.[3]

Us Evangelical Calvinists go with TF Torrance and Athanasius; particularly when it comes to the idea that the reality precedes and thus should be allowed to control the terminology in its context and sense.

If you ever wonder how Evangelical Calvinists can use the language of ‘being’ and ‘persons’ and not fall prey to the same temptations as the Christian Aristotelians, refer to this post.

One more important point in closing: If we get our doctrine of God wrong (which includes very much so how we employ theological language), then everything else following will be eschewed. This is why Evangelical Calvinists place such emphasis on our Trinitarian Doctrine of God as the ground and grammar of everything.

[1] See this post.

[2] See Richard Muller, Post Reformation Reformed Dogmatics, Volume Three (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Academic, 2003), 45, 62, 107, 121, 132, 140, 150, 367, 545, 553.

[3] Thomas F. Torrance, The Christian Doctrine of God: One Being Three Persons (London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2016), 117-18.

Posted in Classical Theism, Critiquing Classic Calvinism, Epistemology, Evangelical Calvinism, Prolegomena, T. F. Torrance, Thomas F. Torrance | 1 Comment