A woman wants to give birth to a shark.

The prophet C.S. Lewis once wrote:

My point may be clearer to some if it is put in a different form. Nature is a word of varying meanings, which can best be understood if we consider its various opposites. The Natural is the opposite of the Artificial, the Civil, the Human, the Spiritual, and the Supernatural. The Artificial does not now concern us. If we take the rest of the list of opposites, however, I think we can get a rough idea of what men have meant by Nature and what it is they oppose to her. Nature seems to be the spatial and temporal, as distinct from what is less fully so or not so at all. She seems to be the world of quantity, as against the world of quality; of objects as against consciousness; of the bound, as against the wholly or partially autonomous; of that which knows no values as against that which both has and perceives value; of efficient causes (or, in some modern systems, of no causality at all) as against final causes. Now I take it that when we understand a thing analytically and then dominate and use it for our own convenience, we reduce it to the level of `Nature’ in the sense that we suspend our judgements of value about it, ignore its final cause (if any), and treat it in terms of quantity. This repression of elements in what would otherwise be our total reaction to it is sometimes very noticeable and even painful: something has to be overcome before we can cut up a dead man or a live animal in a dissecting room. These objects resist the movement of the mind whereby we thrust them into the world of mere Nature. But in other instances too, a similar price is exacted for our analytical knowledge and manipulative power, even if we have ceased to count it. We do not look at trees either as Dryads or as beautiful objects while we cut them into beams: the first man who did so may have felt the price keenly, and the bleeding trees in Virgil and Spenser may be far-off echoes of that primeval sense of impiety. The stars lost their divinity as astronomy developed, and the Dying God has no place in chemical agriculture. To many, no doubt, this process is simply the gradual discovery that the real world is different from what we expected, and the old opposition to Galileo or to `body-snatchers’ is simply obscurantism. But that is not the whole story. It is not the greatest of modern scientists who feel most sure that the object, stripped of its qualitative properties and reduced to mere quantity, is wholly real. Little scientists, and little unscientific followers of science, may think so. The great minds know very well that the object, so treated, is an artificial abstraction, that something of its reality has been lost.

From this point of view the conquest of Nature appears in a new light. We reduce things to mere Nature in order that we may `conquer’ them. We are always conquering Nature, because`Nature’ is the name for what we have, to some extent, conquered. The price of conquest is to treat a thing as mere Nature. Every conquest over Nature increases her domain. The stars do not become Nature till we can weigh and measure them: the soul does not become Nature till we can psychoanalyse her. The wresting of powers from Nature is also the surrendering of things to Nature. As long as this process stops short of the final stage we may well hold that the gain outweighs the loss. But as soon as we take the final step of reducing our own species to the level of mere Nature, the whole process is stultified, for this time the being who stood to gain and the being who has been sacrificed are one and the same. This is one of the many instances where to carry a principle to what seems its logical conclusion produces absurdity. It is like the famous Irishman who found that a certain kind of stove reduced his fuel bill by half and thence concluded that two stoves of the same kind would enable him to warm his house with no fuel at all. It is the magician’s bargain: give up our soul, get power in return. But once our souls, that is, ourselves, have been given up, the power thus conferred will not belong to us. We shall in fact be the slaves and puppets of that to which we have given our souls. It is in Man’s power to treat himself as a mere `natural object’ and his own judgements of value as raw material for scientific manipulation to alter at will. The objection to his doing so does not lie in the fact that this point of view (like one’s first day in a dissecting room) is painful and shocking till we grow used to it. The pain and the shock are at most a warning and a symptom. The real objection is that if man chooses to treat himself as raw material, raw material he will be: not raw material to be manipulated, as he fondly imagined, by himself, but by mere appetite, that is, mere Nature, in the person of his de-humanized Conditioners.

We have been trying, like Lear, to have it both ways: to lay down our human prerogative and yet at the same time to retain it. It is impossible. Either we are rational spirit obliged for ever to obey the absolute values of the Tao, or else we are mere nature to be kneaded and cut into new shapes for the pleasures of masters who must, by hypothesis, have no motive but their own `natural’ impulses. Only the Tao provides a common human law of action which can over-arch rulers and ruled alike. A dogmatic belief in objective value is necessary to the very idea of a rule which is not tyranny or an obedience which is not slavery.

There is at least one fundamental tension between the thinking of some Austrian economics and some libertarian political philosophy, and classical Christian social thinking. Consider this excerpt from von Mises’ magnum opus, Human Action:

When applied to the ultimate ends of action, the terms rational and irrational are inappropriate and meaningless. The ultimate end of action is always the satisfaction of some desires of the acting man. Since nobody is in a position to substitute his own value judgments for those of the acting individual, it is vain to pass judgment on other people’s aims and volitions. No man is qualified to declare what would make another man happier or less discontented. The critic either tells us what he believes he would aim at if he were in the place of his fellow; or, in dictatorial arrogance blithely disposing of his fellow’s will and aspirations, declares what condition of this other man would better suit himself, the critic.

Mises stands within a long tradition of thinkers assuming Hume’s separation of value and fact, a repudiation of the premodern tradition (in which Christianity finds itself) which said there was such a thing as an objective good and evil for human action, and that it could be known by everyone. In participating in the modern tradition, Mises assumed the modernists’ rejection of formal and final causes in the world, and so left humanity without any objective good purpose toward which it was intrinsically directed. What is left in the vacuum is bare will, and perhaps the passions, to which Hume said reason was always a slave. Certainly, there is no objective good that can be rationally discovered by all people of good will.

And, of course, Mises and likeminded Austrians (and libertarians) are not alone amongst the economic and political schools of today in holding this view of ethics and human nature. But they are all clearly in opposition to Christian doctrine at this point.

This project has been sitting on my desk for a while, wagging its finger at me, demanding to know when it would be finished. But for quite some time, I have tried my best to ignore it, simply because I didn’t know how to complete it. And really, I’m not sure if I do.

Friends of mine, and formerly co-students at Tyndale University College, wrote a book (now, unfortunately, a while back) about the unique church plant they began in Sarnia, Ontario. I must say at this point that I have never been to this plant in person, though I’ve heard much about it through my friends and other channels. Whether this aids or harms me in my ability to helpfully discuss the book, I will leave those people who have both visited the church and read the book to decide.

One of the reasons I struggled with this review was that, in many ways, the book reflects real people, and not only that, but real people I know. It’s a book about a vision of a growing congregation for its own common life. Therefore, to be critical of the book may in some ways be a critical of real people. Yet, the reader can’t do much else, given the nature of the book.

Composed of various forms of art, quotations from writers from the fields of biblical studies, theology, philosophy, autobiography, and pop culture (if one can call that a field), the book works more like a cascade of thoughts and images than a carefully reasoned manifesto or proclamation.

And no doubt that was intentional. The community of The Story has taken various streams of postmodern philosophy and theology as helpful and correct, and the work they’ve produced here reflects that. We live in an age captivated by images and sounds engineered to produce certain types of feeling; this contrasts with past ages, like those around and after the Reformation, where a congregation might on some occasions stand to listen to a 5 hour sermon, or expect their preacher’s exposition to follow a logically structured outline. There is of course a structure to this book, and the author explains it in the introduction. But beyond that larger structure, the smaller parts are linked, it seems to me, more in the way people in a crowd are, than dominoes in a row. All of this to say, the book often is more aesthetically experienced than logically followed.

My assignment as a co-contributor to this blog was for the sections “Intro”, “Happy Ending”, and “Out of Order”. The latter two titles reflect a clever way of referring to the eschaton, and the eschaton as inaugurated in the visible communities of Christians. Because of the structure of the book, and perhaps also because I lacked the artistic perception to recognize deeper links within the material, my reflections on these chapters will be more thematic than systematic. Three themes jumped out at me as constant undercurrents: compassionate practice, uncertainty, and unconditional divine acceptance. I certainly am willing to receive correction at this point, but it seems to me the kind of vision the story holds out for itself is one where (a) deep questions can remain unanswered in community, where (b) the people of Christ focus significantly on helping to resolve the material problems of others, and where (c) followers of this vision are convinced of the universality of God’s love. The format of the book itself highlights, perhaps, a fourth value of the community: (d) creativity.

I would be misleading if I suggested I agreed with the vision at every point. Treating the last value first: I can’t say I have a problem with the use of artistic expression per se. And there are indeed many fine examples of artistic craft depicted in the book. Returning to the other three values in the order I listed them, I don’t have much problem with trying to establish economic and political justice both in the community of the church and in the wider commonwealth. At the same time, I wouldn’t want to abandon the traditional evangelical calling of seeking for the conversion of individuals so as to save them from the wrath of God. I also recognize the importance of allowing space for people to be uncertain and ask questions; yet, I have seen individuals and communities twist this intention for open space into a cover for changing the direction of a community. “Doubt” can really become a code-word for certainty that the old beliefs of the community are wrong. (This is not to say the Story suffers from this problem; but it is a danger their vision is open to when applied by any community.) I agree that God’s call goes out to all people, but for me this is consistent with a historic Reformed view of God’s sovereignty and providence, and with a non-universalistic eschatology.

(I am conscious as I look at the previous paragraph that I may sound exactly like the kind of thing the Story is trying to get away from. I’m not sure that that’s the case, but I could see an outsider looking at me that way. I’m responding to what is clearly a deeply personal and emotional expression by evaluating whether that experience is correct. Nevertheless, I don’t think I ultimately respect the content of this book if I treat it as merely art for art’s sake. The book really does make claims about reality, and so to treat it as it asks to be treated, I must engage with its ideas as well as its format.)

I don’t have much else to say about the book, except that I believe it’s an excellent living expression of the kind of faith that seems to attract many of the Millennial generation. That’s worth pondering, whether one thinks that means other churches ultimately ought to follow their lead, or not.

There’s at least one way in which I’m a total nerd: I love comic book movies. Superheroes were a staple of my childhood, and while my tastes have matured (at least, arguably so) since those days, I have retained my enjoyment of the genre.

Of course, everyone can appreciate the spectacle of superheroes. And even moreso today, with comic book movies utilizing the cutting edge of special effects technology (both CGI and otherwise).

But, while I can’t say I don’t love the rush of adrenaline such action scenes can create, that’s honestly not the only reason I continue to watch them. In truth (try not to laugh), I enjoy these movies because of their messages.

There are few other types of movies where the central themes of the narratives involve a sincere praise of old fashioned virtues. To show what I mean, here are a series of a quotes from a series of some more recent superhero films:

• Batman Begins
  • Rachel Dawes: Wait! You could die. At least tell me your name. Bruce Wayne: It’s not who I am underneath, but what I *do* that defines me.
  • Bruce Wayne: Rachel I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about… Rachel Dawes: No I’m sorry, the day Chill died I said some terrible things Bruce Wayne: But true things. I was a coward with a gun, justice is about more than revenge. So thank you
  • Henri Ducard: Your compassion is a weakness your enemies will not share .Bruce Wayne: That’s why it’s so important. It separates us from them.
  • Bruce Wayne: What have I done, Alfred? Everything my family… my father built… Alfred Pennyworth: The Wayne legacy is more than bricks and mortar, sir. Bruce Wayne: I wanted to save Gotham, I failed Alfred Pennyworth: Why do we fall sir? So we might learn to pick ourselves up Bruce Wayne: You still haven’t given up on me? Alfred Pennyworth: Never
• The Dark Knight
  • James Gordon Jr.: Why’s he running, Dad? Lt. James Gordon: Because we have to chase him. James Gordon Jr.: He didn’t do anything wrong. Lt. James Gordon: Because he’s the hero Gotham deserves, but not the one it needs right now. So we’ll hunt him. Because he can take it. Because he’s not our hero. He’s a silent guardian, a watchful protector. A dark knight.
  • The Joker: We really should stop this fighting, otherwise we’ll miss the fireworks! Batman: There won’t *be* any fireworks! The Joker: And here… we… go![Silence. Nothing happens. Confused, Joker turns to look at the clock, which shows that it's past midnight and neither ferry has blown the other up] Batman: [triumphantly] What were you trying to prove? That deep down, everyone’s as ugly as you? You’re alone!
  • Two-Face: You thought we could be decent men, in an indecent time! But you were wrong. The world is cruel, and the only morality in a cruel world is chance. Unbiased, unprejudiced… fair. His son’s got the same chance she had. Fifty-fifty. Batman: What happened to Rachel wasn’t chance. We decided to act. We three. Two-Face: Then why was it me who was the only one who lost everything? Batman: [grieved] It wasn’t…
• The Dark Knight Rises
  • Catwoman: I blow that tunnel open, I’m gone. Batman: There’s more to you than that. Catwoman: Sorry I keep letting you down.[pause] Catwoman: Come with me. Save yourself. You don’t owe these people any more. You’ve given them everything. Batman: Not everything. Not yet.
  • Bane: So, you came back to die with your city. Batman: No. I came back to stop you.
  • Catwoman: You could have gone anywhere, but you came back. Batman: So did you. Catwoman: Well then I guess we’re both suckers.
  • Blind Prisoner: You do not fear death. You think this makes you strong. It makes you weak.
    Bruce Wayne: Why?
    Blind Prisoner: How can you move faster than possible, fight longer than possible without the most powerful impulse of the spirit: the fear of death.
    Bruce Wayne: I do fear death. I fear dying in here, while my city burns, and there’s no one there to save it.
• Spiderman
  • Peter Parker: [voiceover] Whatever life holds in store for me, I will never forget these words: “With great power comes great responsibility.” This is my gift, my curse. Who am I? I’m Spider-man.
• Spiderman 3
  • Peter Parker: Flint Marko. The man who killed Uncle Ben, he was killed last night. Aunt May: Oh, my. What happened? Peter Parker: Spider-Man killed him. Aunt May: Spider-Man? I don’t understand, Spider-Man doesn’t kill people. What happened? Peter Parker: I, uh… He… he was… I thought that – That you’d feel… He deserved it, didn’t he? Aunt May: I don’t think it’s for us to say whether a person deserves to live or die. Peter Parker: But, Aunt May, he killed Uncle Ben. Aunt May: Uncle Ben meant the world to us. But he wouldn’t want us living one second with revenge in our hearts. It’s like a poison. It can – It can take you over. Before you know it, turn us into something ugly.
  • Flint Marko: [looks down at the crowd below] I didn’t want this. But I had no choice… Peter Parker: We always have a choice. You had a choice when you killed my uncle. Flint Marko: My daughter was dying, I needed money.[flashback: Flint knocks on the car window with a gun] Flint Marko: I was scared. I told your uncle all I wanted was the car. He said to me “Why don’t you just put down the gun and go home?” I realise now he was just trying to help me.[Uncle Ben tells Flint to put down the gun and go home, just when Flint's partner exits a nearby building with the money] Flint Marko: Then I saw my partner running over with the cash… and the gun was in my hand…[he shakes Flint's arm - causing him to shoot Uncle Ben. Flint realizes this] Flint Marko: I did a terrible thing to you, I spent a lot of nights wishing I could take it back.[Flint's partner drives off with the car, but Flint stays by Uncle Ben's side] Flint Marko: [to Peter] I’m not asking you to forgive me. I just want you to understand. Peter Parker: I’ve done terrible things too. Flint Marko: I didn’t choose to be this. The only thing left of me now… is my daughter. Peter Parker: [after a pause] I forgive you.
• Iron Man
  • Yinsen: Did you see that? Those are YOUR weapons… in the hands of those murderers! Is this what you want? Is this what you wish the legacy of the great Tony Stark to be? Tony Stark: I shouldn’t do anything. They could kill you, they’re gonna kill me, either way, and even if they don’t, I’ll probably be dead in a week. Yinsen: Then this is a very important week for you, isn’t it? 
  • Tony Stark: I never got to say goodbye to my father. There’s questions I would’ve asked him. I would’ve asked him how he felt about what his company did, if he was conflicted, if he ever had doubts. Or maybe he was every inch of man we remember from the newsreels. I saw young Americans killed by the very weapons I created to defend them and protect them. And I saw that I had become part of a system that is comfortable with zero-accountability. Press Reporter #1: Mr. Stark! What happened over there? Tony Stark: I had my eyes opened. I came to realize that I had more to offer this world than just making things that blow up.
• Thor
  • [Thor approaches the Destroyer] Thor: Brother, however I have wronged you, whatever I have done that has led you to do this, I am truly sorry. But these people are innocent, taking their lives will gain you nothing. So take mine, and end this.
  • Thor: Why have you done this? Loki: To prove to Father that I am a worthy son! When he wakes, I will have saved his life, I will have destroyed that race of monsters, and I will be true heir to the throne! Thor: You can’t kill an entire race! Loki: Why not?… And what is this new found love for the Frost Giants? You, could have killed them all with your bare hands! Thor: I’ve changed.
    
• Captain America: The First Avenger
  • Red Skull: Arrogance may not be a uniquely American trait, but I must say, you do it better than anyone. But there are limits to what even you can do, Captain, or did Erskine tell you otherwise? Steve Rogers: He told me you were insane. Red Skull: Ah. He resented my genius and tried to deny me what was rightfully mine, but he gave you everything. So, what made you so special? Steve Rogers: Nothing. I’m just a kid from Brooklyn.
  • Abraham Erskine: Do you want to kill Nazis? Steve Rogers: Is this a test? Abraham Erskine: Yes. Steve Rogers: I don’t want to kill anyone. I don’t like bullies; I don’t care where they’re from.
  • Steve Rogers: Can I ask a question? Abraham Erskine: Just one? Steve Rogers: Why me? Abraham Erskine: I suppose that’s the only question that matters. Abraham Erskine: [Displaying a wine bottle] This is from Augsburg, my city. So many people forget that the first country the Nazis invaded was their own. You know, after the last war, they… My people struggled. They… they felt weak… they felt small. Then Hitler comes along with the marching, and the big show, and the flags, and the, and the… and he… he hears of me, and my work, and he finds me, and he says “You.” He says “You will make us strong.” Well, I am not interested. So he sends the head of Hydra, his research division, a brilliant scientist by the name of Johann Schmidt. Now Schmidt is a member of the inner circle and he is ambitious. He and Hitler share a passion for occult power and Teutonic myth. Hitler uses his fantasies to inspire his followers, but for Schmidt, it is not fantasy. For him, it is real. He has become convinced that there is a great power hidden in the earth, left here by the gods, waiting to be seized by a superior man. So when he hears about my formula and what it can do, he cannot resist. Schmidt must become that superior man. Steve Rogers: Did it make him stronger? Abraham Erskine: Yeah, but… there were other… effects. The serum was not ready. But more important, the man. The serum amplifies everything that is inside, so good becomes great; bad becomes worse. This is why you were chosen. Because the strong man who has known power all his life, may lose respect for that power, but a weak man knows the value of strength, and knows… compassion. Steve Rogers: Thanks. I think. Abraham Erskine: [Gesturing toward the wine] Get it, get it. Whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are, not a perfect soldier, but a good man.
• The Avengers
  • Loki: Kneel before me. I said, KNEEL![everyone becomes quiet and kneels before him] Loki: Is not this simpler? Is this not your natural state? It’s the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life’s joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel.[the crowd is terrified by his ability to appear and disappear] German Old Man: [defiantly rises] Not to men like you! Loki: There are no men like me. German Old Man: There are always ALWAYS men like you!Loki: Look to your elder, people. Let him be an example.[Loki is about to execute him with his scepter when Captain America intervenes] Steve Rogers: You know, the last time I was in Germany and saw a man standing above everybody else, we ended up disagreeing. Loki: The soldier. A man out of time. Steve Rogers: I’m not the one who’s out of time.
  • Loki: I remember a shadow, living in the shade of your greatness. I remember you tossing me into an abyss, I who was and should be king! Thor: So you take the world I love as recompense for your imagined slights? No, the Earth is under MY protection, Loki! Loki: [laughs] And you’re doing a marvelous job with that! The humans slaughter each other in droves, while you idly threat. I mean to rule them. And why should I not? Thor: You think yourself above them? Loki: Well, yes. Thor: Then you miss the truth of ruling, brother. A throne would suit you ill.
  • Natasha Romanoff: I’d sit this one out, Cap. Steve Rogers: I don’t see how I can. Natasha Romanoff: These guys come from legend. They’re basically gods. Steve Rogers: There’s only one God, ma’am, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t dress like that.

Now, of course, one can take a cynical eye towards these stories. Certainly, some executives are making millions off of them, and it’s probably doubtful all those people profiting off these films are living lives of pure virtue. They’re probably, at least many of them, using these themes and their representations opportunistically.

But really, does that matter? The children watching the movies don’t know that. All they know is that Batman and Iron Man and Captain America are good people, and that good people are willing to sacrifice everything for the good of others. And if the kids of today are anything like I was as young boy, they’ll probably watch these movies more than once. Is it really such a bad thing that they repeatedly hear the message, “Whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are, not a perfect soldier, but a good man”?

Thabiti Anyabwile discusses the importance of older members of church congregations to the life of their communities:

In this way older members of the local church become the front line of discipleship and care. They brighten the future of the church by teaching younger members how to live out the faith, how to avoid mistakes, seize opportunities, practically apply the word of God to their lived realities. As that store of wisdom, maturity, and experience gets passed on and received with humility, the spiritual, emotional, and volitional maturity of the congregation rises considerably. The more mature the young persons in the body the brighter the future of the church. We sometimes act as if older members have no role vital to the future of the church. But actually they are absolutely essential, indispensable.

Mary Eberstadt writes:

though religious traditionalism may be losing today’s political and legal battles, it remains poised to win the wider war over what Christianity will look like tomorrow.

She adds as proof of this point:

That traditionalist breakaway congregation in Virginia is larger than the one on the legally winning side — as in, much. Membership on the “losing” side, by one estimate, includes some 2,000 souls, as opposed to some 174 in the congregation moving in. And though exact numbers may not always be available, the larger trend is clear: this numerical division between traditionalists and reformers is also seen around the world. It’s the stricter Christian churches that typically have stronger and more vibrant congregations — as has been documented at least since Dean M. Kelley’s 1996 book, Why Conservative Churches Are Growing.

So, for example, the reform-minded Church of England has closed over 1,000 churches since 1980, with some later becoming discos, spas and mosques. The traditionalist Anglican churches of the Global South, on the other hand, are packed to overflowing and still growing fast.

During my undergrad years at Tyndale University College, our very wise Dean of Students required us to read Steven Garber’s The Fabric of Faithfulness. The gratitude I felt towards the Dean for this has not abated since then.

Garber contends, in sum, that three factors stand out in differentiating those Christians who stay faithful from those who abandon the faith along the way. Firstly, the faithful ones found answers to objections to their faith. They were able to hold their faith together with reason, and with honesty regarding the facts.  Secondly, they found mentors or teachers in the faith, who were able to model for them what it meant to live out Christianity as a mature human being.  Thirdly, they found a community, or friends, with whom they could live out their faith in mutual support.

Garber easily convinced me. Challenges to one’s trust in Jesus inevitably come to all believers in this life. How can they withstand them, if they must suppress their own nagging consciousness of problems, or if they have no examples of others who have survived the storm, or if they have no friends on whom they can depend while they endure it? Garber’s points compel agreement to anyone possessing common sense, I believe.

And so I think if churches want to train their members to persevere, they need to craft their ministry to provide these three things.  The pastoral ministry could surely help with the first and second factors (education and example). But even then, they cannot be the sole providers of these.  Members have to be encouraged to become self-educating, and to become examples to each other. And then of course the congregation functions as community.

Yet, congregations should not shoulder this burden by themselves.  A real weakness lurks beneath the recent push among groups like Evangelicals, Emergents, Missionals, Postliberals, etc., to subsume every part of the mission underneath the visible and institutional church (that is, insofar as they do indeed succumb to this attitude; I am sure there are many counterexamples that do not).  It is a mistake to think everything Christians do must be done as an official ministry of local congregations, or networks of congregations in what we call denominations.  The Reformational emphasis on the priesthood of all believers, and on the importance of vocation in the non-ecclesiastical realm, remains salutary for us today.

So, are there other ways, beyond the ministries of the institutional church, that Christians could provide these three faithfulness-producing causes for themselves? Here’s one idea I have been mulling over. I think Western believers ought to really consider reviving fraternities.

Fraternities, or clubs like them, have been around for centuries. In the Greco-Roman world, they at times became so powerful politically that the state outlawed all clubs except those which clearly demonstrated their fealty to the Emperor. And anyone can understand why they became powerful.  Close-knit, likeminded groups devoted to a common cause can accomplish incredible things.  (Though I don’t know the history, I would guess this is one reason why freedom of association has been enshrined in the constitutions of many Western democracies, to provide a check against governmental power.) Scholars such as Niall Ferguson have also noted the incredible importance of institutions of civil society for the preservation of civilization (see, e.g., here).

Unfortunately, Christians, especially men, most likely cannot conceive of a Christian fraternity as having this kind of power. And who could blame them? The Western Protestant churches, if they do not appear to be at the end of their life-span, usually appear like they are at the beginning. That is, we tend to have two options: (1) near-dead mainlines, or (2) infantile evangelicals. Would a fraternity made up of members of such churches instantiate anything other than the same tropes? Unlikely.

Yet despite my Calvinism, I’m not a fatalist. I think fraternities could intentionally seek to be different than this.

I think a club structured around the following three purposes, if its members actively intended to put them into action, could accomplish great things.

1. Worship/Piety: members should regularly pray together.
2. Fellowship: members should gather together regularly, both for the sheer joy of it, and also to encourage one another to growth in virtue and knowledge
3. Service: members should actively plan, and carry out plans, to do good for the wider community/society/city

Doing these three things out of a conviction regarding the truth about God and the world would take care of the “dead” problem seen in mainline churches. And one more proposal would take care of the “infantile” issue: official meetings and proceedings of these fraternities ought to be conducted with  a sense of reverence and seriousness, based on an understanding of the importance of the work they are carrying out. (Of course, this wouldn’t prohibit less serious meetings from occurring as well. But these should not be the only kind, and the more formal should be common enough to have an influence on the souls of the people involved.)

This is just an idea, but I don’t think it’s a bad one. I hope some day I get to put it into practice, but even if I never do, maybe someone else will (or already has).

I want to continue my series of posts on NT Wright and Reformational issues by focussing in on the matter of final justification. This seems to be one of the teachings many regard as a particularly dangerous part of Wright’s teaching. I already addressed this point in brief in my first post, but I can add a few more comments to strengthen my position.

I think the concerns of many Protestants regarding Wright’s view of final justification according to “the whole life lived” fall into three main categories: (1) his view is not Protestant, (2) his view is not Augustinian, and (3) his view is not Biblical. I will address these in turn.

Is Wright’s view Protestant?

Thankfully, I don’t need to do much work here. My friend Steven Wedgeworth has done it all for me. His survey clearly demonstrates the variety of expression amongst Protestant theologians about this matter, and that clear precedents for Wright’s position lie within that variety. More specifically, from the doctors that Wedgeworth surveys, the following say basically the same thing as Wright (I will append some brief quotes to make this point clear):

• Martin Bucer
  • In the case of Bucer, Michael Bird provides the clearest testimony, though the post about Witsius below also contains a citation from Bucer.
• John Diodati
  • “Whereas St. James takes the same word for the approving of man, in a benigne and fatherly judgment, as he is considered in the quality of God’s child, and living in the covenant of grace, as having the two essentiall parts of that covenant joyned together, faith to receive God’s grace and Christ’s benefit, and works to yield him the duties of service and acknowledgement;”
• Benedict Pictet
  • “for in the first [justification] a sinner is acquitted from guilt, in the second a godly man is distinguished from the ungodly. In the first God imputes the righteousness of Christ ; in the second he pronounces judgment from the gift of holiness bestowed upon us; both these justifications the believer obtains, and therefore it is true that “by works he is justified, and not by faith only.”
• Herman Witsius
  • “This justification is indeed very different from that other, of which we shall presently treat, wherein the person is absolved from sins, whereof he is really guilty, and which are forgiven him on Christ’s account. In this we are speaking of he is acquitted of sins, which he is not chargeable with, and is declared not to have committed.XXIV. The foundation of this justification can be nothing but inherent holiness and righteousness. For, as it is a declaration concerning a man, as he is in himself: by the regenerating and sanctifying grace of God, so it ought to have for its foundation, that which is found in man himself:He that doth righteousness is righteous, says John, 1 John iii. 7. and Peter says, Acts x.34, 35. “of a truth, I perceive, that in every nation he that feareth him and worketh righteousness is accepted with God.””
• Edward Polhill
  • “These things evince, that obedience is a condition necessary as to our continuance in a state of justification: nevertheless it is not necessary, that obedience should be perfect as to the evangelical precept; but that it should be such, that the truth of grace which the evangelical condition calls for, may not fail for want of it: “Blessed are they that do his commandments, that they may have right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the city,” (Rev. xxii.14.) The first fundamental right to heaven they have by the faith of Christ only: but sincere obedience is necessary that that right may be continued to them: in this sense we may fairly construe that conclusion of St James, “Ye see, then, how that by works a man is justified, and not by faith only,” (Jam. ii.24.)”
• Thomas Goodwin
  • “So then, Paul’s judging according to works, and James his justification by works, are all one, and are alike consistent with Paul’s justification by faith only. For in the same epistle where he argues so strongly for justification by faith without works, as Rom. iii.iv., he in chap. ii. also declares, that ‘he will judge every man according to his works.’ He doth so to the good: ver. 7, ‘To them who, by patient continuance in well-doing, seek for glory, and honour, and immortality, eternal life.’”

In addition to Wedgeworth’s sources, one other deserves note:

• Westminster Shorter Catechism 38
  • Rich Lusk rightly noted that WSC 38 teaches believers receive an acquittal at the final resurrection; the choice of proof-texts for this point may startle some, too, in that the Westminster divines selected a text about rewards for good works to prove believers would receive this acquittal (Matthew 25:23).

On the other hand, Wedgeworth rightly explains that John Calvin, Francis Turretin, John Preston, James Ussher, and Thomas Gataker, William Gouge, and John Downame shy away from speaking of two justifications with the second by works, though Calvin’s position in the Institutes is quite sophisticated and I think comes very close to the one evidenced in the list above. But to the list of reticent theologians we should add Martin Luther, and I would imagine the Lutheran tradition (though I know nothing about the particulars here).

Given Wedgeworth’s work here, I can’t see any reason to say Wright’s view fails the Protestantism test. At most one can say some Protestants disagreed with his view. But they did not excommunicate his predecessors.  As long as the fundamental Protestant concerns were upheld, there was manifestly room for difference on this matter.  And as I showed, Wright certainly sustains those fundamental Protestant positions.

Is Wright’s view Augustinian?

Anecdotally, on several occasions I have seen critics of Wright contend that his position on final justification is semi-Pelagian. Of the three issues I mentioned at the beginning, this one is the easiest to dispatch, I believe. For the charge that Wright’s view of the final judgment implies salvation by merit runs up against the problem of Augustine himself. If anyone was an Augustinian, and not a Pelagian or Semi-Pelagian, when it came to merit, it was the bishop of Hippo. Yet everyone recognizes that he did not teach a Protestant view of justification, i.e., he believed iustificatio referred to the transformative process by which God made us more just, not the verdict in God’s court which declares us so. For Augustine, justification and sanctification basically referred to the same process. But for all that, Augustine’s view of grace rendered it impossible for human beings to stand before God on the basis of merit. My reference to the saint’s saying that “God crowns the works he does in us” hinted at this point. The fact that God is the ultimate source of our good works, as many Protestants have noted, eliminates merit from the good works that those same Protestants affirm that we do. But if the divine origin of our good works eliminates merit in sanctification, then it must also eliminate merit even in final justification.

To put this all a different way: this charge confuses two issues which must remain distinct. The question of the instruments of justification, initial and final, stands beside the question of grace’s relation to merit. These matters remain separable, as Augustine’s own position makes clear.

Is Wright’s view Biblical?

For Protestants, at least in theory, all theologoumena must pass the bar of scripture, or else be discarded. At this point, I don’t wish to defend Wright’s view as biblical (though I believe it is). But I do contend (a) that his position is at least prima facie defensible (it has been defended by otherwise respected evangelical scholars of late e.g., beyond Wright himself, also Simon Gathercole, Mark Seifrid, and Tom Schreiner), and (b) that in light of my responses to the previous two questions, the answer should not be threatening to Protestants if Wright turns out to be correct. It undermines neither their ultimate concerns nor the (non-existent) uniformity of their tradition.

This will probably be my final post, at least for some time, concentrated on NT Wright’s place in Protestantism. I welcome feedback and criticism. I hope, at least, that I’ve provided reason for some critics of Wright to reconsider their problems with his teaching, even if I have failed to convince them of my entire position.

Continuing the theme of my TCI post on NT Wright, I would like to address another question many raise regarding the bishop’s new perspective. That is: what does it imply about the application Luther made of Paul’s thought to his own day?

I want to make the case, briefly, that Wright’s view of Paul doesn’t change much vis-à-vis the Reformation issues.

Wright’s critics have charged him with relocating the doctrine of justification from soteriology to ecclesiology. There is one line in What Saint Paul Really Said that certainly gives this impression, but in later works he has clarified his point, and affirmed that what he really means to affirm is a both/and. Justification is about salvation, but also about church.

Many have not noticed, though, that Wright’s affirmation consists with the Reformers. They too affirmed that justification was both about soteriology and ecclesiology (not to mention politics!). As Brad Littlejohn puts it in his summary of Luther’s view of the two kingdoms:

It flows, in short, from the doctrine of justification, with Luther’s famous concept of simul justus et peccator, his conviction that the realm of appearances is very different from the realm of spiritual realities.  Christ reigns mysteriously and invisibly over the kingdom of conscience, and no human authority may dare to interpose itself as the mediator of this rule; it is by faith alone that we participate in this kingdom, so we must not be deceived into identifying it with external works or rituals.  Perhaps better than the terminology of the “two kingdoms” then, the zwei Reiche, is that of the “two governments,” zwei Regimente.  The spiritual government is that by which Christ rules inwardly in the conscience by his Word and Spirit, the realm of grace; the temporal government (weltliche Regimente) is that by which Christ governs all external human affairs by law, in which he works not directly and immediately, but through the larvae, “masks,” of earthly governors and institutions.  Only the elect experience the former; the latter they share in common with the unregenerate.

Luther’s doctrine of justification severed the absolute link between any human institution and divine rule.  This meant, of course, that no ecclesial authority could claim the power to ultimately determine who was saved or lost.  No bishop or Pope could set a divinely authoritative boundary around the community, and include or exclude at his whim. Rather, God alone determined the ultimate shape of his church, and he did this through his Word, received by faith.

As I noted in my previous post, Wright would agree with all of this. But, further, his explanation of Paul’s logic in, e.g., Galatians, requires Luther’s practical conclusion for the Roman Catholic Church of his own day.

Wright explains in What Saint Paul Really Said (p. 122):

When two people share Christian faith, says Paul, they can share table-fellowship, no matter what their ancestry. And all this is based four-square, of course, on the theology of the cross. ‘I am crucified with Christ,’ he writes, ‘nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ lives in me’ (2:19-20). The cross has obliterated the privileged distinction that Saul of Tarsus supposed himself to enjoy; the new life he has as Paul the apostle is a life defined, not by his old existence, but solely by the crucified and risen Messiah.

The bishop emphasizes that in Paul’s day a major point of the doctrine was to build a united Jew-Gentile church; but it is just as clear that the logic of Paul’s teaching opposes other possible divisions, beyond those of race. That is, if the unity of the church is based on the new life Christians receive through their initial faith, a life defined solely by the crucified and risen Messiah, then clearly it is impossible for a new human institution to come along and create new rules that will again divide that family.  God has created one badge of membership: faith.  To add to that badge, whether with the Jewish law or a new manmade one, is to offend against the same divine work.

I’m not the first person to notice that something like Wright’s perspective still causes problems for institutions such as the RCC in Luther’s day. Donald Garlington, in his book Studies in the New Perspective on Paul (pp. 14-15) speaks of the implications of his NPP, which is similar to Wright’s:

If I may build upon and extrapolate from Dunn’s remarks, the difference between my version of the NPP and Roman Catholicism revolves just around the relation of tradition to final judgment (justification) by works. If my perception is correct, then what is stake in the latter’s doctrine of judgment is not “good works” in the most generic terms, but a commitment to the Tridentine standards, including such articles of faith as papal infallibility, the mass, the sacraments, the perpetual virginity of Mary, and prayer to the saints. By contrast, the obedience of faith in Paul bypasses all forms of tradition, Jewish, Christian, or otherwise, and focuses fidelity solely and exclusively on Christ. The latter- day justification of the people of God hinges on union with Christ and the observance of all things that he has commanded the church (Matt 28:20), and nothing other than that. In short, what is required for a favorable verdict in the last day is allegiance to Jesus and his law (1 Cor 9:21; Gal 6:2). It is in this regard that the Reformers made a right application of Paul’s denial that justification is not by “works of the law.” That is to say, if justification is not by Jewish tradition, then it is not by church tradition either.

My way of putting the matter would be: insofar as the Roman Church conceived itself as having the power to determine who belonged in the community of God’s people, and who did not, based on its laws and canons in addition to the faith God requires, it was reproducing precisely the Judaizing heresy, though now without any possible claim to Mosaic sanction.

The subject of natural law is hot nowadays, and I thought to add a little to the discussion, I would plug a blog I follow on my soon to be defunct Google Reader: Lex Christianorum.

The proprietor there, Andrew Greenwell, has done a lot of work, both analytical and historical, on the subject of natural law. For those of a more “Catholic” flavour, who believe that theology must be done in accord with the traditional “mind of the Church”, Greenwell has a series of interesting entries on the presence of natural law in early church tradition. I will list several of his posts below:

• Justin Martyr 1, 2
• Irenaeus 1, 2
• Tertullian 1, 2
• Origen 1, 2
• Clement of Alexandria
• Ambrose 1, 2
• Augustine 1, 2, 3 

This survey could continue through the Middle Ages, of course. And I should note that even Protestants can benefit from recognizing natural law as part of the heritage of the church. It remains part of our heritage as well, as scholars like Steven Grabill have demonstrated. Further, the fact that “the best and brightest”, so to speak, of the early church, recognized the existence of natural law at least corroborates the doctrine, which says that all people can and to some degree do recognize the law of nature.