Why You Can't Dodge Theological Questions - By Jake Meador

Found here. Our comments in bold.

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The author cannot conceive of Christians who don't elevate doctrine to the position he does. For him it's the raison d'être, but some Christians are just not wired that way. He thinks that's a critical issue, but isn't really able to articulate why.

There's also a little cognitive dissonance going on. He discovered to his surprise that charismatics aren't the evil heretics he thought they were. His experience contravened everything he thought he knew about them. Desperate to retain some vestige of separation, he invokes a statement made by the pastor of the church he visited, magnifies it, enhances it, and makes the result into a strawman.

We don't want to be too harsh on the author. He's just experienced something that calls into question what he thought he knew. We went through something similar in our faith journey from cessationist to charismatic.

Lastly, this is not a Bible teaching. The author does not even mention the Bible or quote any verse.

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Recently while visiting friends in another state I had a chance to attend a men's group at a small charismatic church, which for someone who has spent nearly 20 years in the Presbyterian Church in America is an unusual event. (This one thing may be why there is so much acrimony between charismatics and cessationists. So many Christians are like the author, in that they have zero experience with the "other side," and thus consider these folks to be deceived, evil, cultic, etc.. 

But there is nothing like actually spending time with people who have a different understanding of doctrine. One often finds there is much more in common with the "enemy" than one might have thought.)

Much of what I found there was a delight; it is not at all hard for me to understand why non-denominational churches seem to be the future (and much of the present!) in the American church or why Pentecostalism has been such a growing force globally. The atmosphere of the group was warm and welcoming while also being morally serious. A typical man attending a group like this would, I am quite sure, be challenged to grow in his relationship with God and his relationship with others. Indeed, I heard frank conversation about many of the problems facing men today, frank admissions of personal failures, and obviously Christian counsel and encouragement offered in response to those struggles. It was all deeply encouraging. It was also striking and exciting to see how young the group was and to hear from my friend about how rapidly it was growing—and not growing because of cool marketing techniques or a savvy celebrity pastor type promoting it. The growth was rapid, but largely organic and driven by friends inviting friends. As I said, this was all immensely encouraging to see. (Cessationist Christians have intentionally created a bogeyman out of charismatics. The author actually thought it was true and was surprised to discover that these charismatics were real, genuine Christians.)

There was one line, however, that is representative of what I expect to be a defining problem for non-denominational churches in the future and, frankly, for any churches that are not guided by theological confessions that shape and define their theological lives. (The author implies that non-denominational churches have no guidelines at all.)

Here is what happened: The pastor was speaking and was making the good and important point that we should not be distracted by idle speculative questions in thinking about the Christian life. The goal is to follow Jesus, but there is a way of getting into intellectual disputes with fellow believers over questions that are ultimately unimportant and distract us from our unity in Christ and the call Christ makes on our lives. This is obviously true.

But the example he used was poor. This is more or less a quote, though it is from a memory now over a month old so it is not exact:

You know what kind of issues I'm talking about. Sometimes people will ask me questions like, 'what do you think about Calvinism and Arminianism?' and, sure, I have some leanings on some of those issues. But ultimately they don't matter that much. And we need to be determined to know nothing but Christ and him crucified, as Paul says in 1 Corinthians.

Here is the problem: (Hmm. Despite the fact that he found wonderful, faithful Christians in this charismatic church, he's still going to manufacture an issue based on a supposed inadequacy, and extend this anecdotal experience to apply to all "non-denominational" Christians.)

Suppose you are visiting a friend or family member who is in the hospital. And further suppose that friend has received a grim prognosis and is preparing for hospice care. They are, understandably, doing a lot of thinking about their life, questioning past decisions, feeling remorse over past mistakes, and wondering what will become of them. Yes, they profess to be a Christian. Yes, they have sought to follow Jesus in how they have lived their life. But now they feel such doubt, such guilt, such remorse.

What do you say to them?

Well, your answer to that question is directly related to your answer to questions about Calvinism and Arminianism. (Really? This is an astonishing claim.)

This is a point Carl Trueman made very well in his response to Peter Leithart at the Future of Protestantism event held at Biola many years ago:

Trueman shared Leithart's desire for greater Christian unity. But, he asked, what core doctrines of his particular church tradition do Dr. Leithart want him to relativize in some way in pursuit of unity? (The word "relativize" is an unfortunate choice. There's no reason to describe Christian unity in this pejorative way.) 

 

In order to have unity with non-reformed Christians should he downplay or relativize his commitment to the believer's assurance of salvation, for example? But, Trueman continued, he is a pastor. He visits dying people in hospital rooms. He needs that doctrine in an existential way as part of his pastoral care for his congregation. Should he give that up in the name of institutional ecclesial unity? (Christian unity does not require anyone to give up their doctrines, it only requires that brothers love one another despite their differences.)

The fact that I still remember Trueman's words over a decade after the event is perhaps proof of the impression it made on me.

I am a Presbyterian. And so when I imagine trying to counsel and support a dying person in a hospital bed, my answer is the same as Professor Trueman's: I tell the person that their security is not bound up in their performance, their choice, or their strength of will. It is not invalidated by their failures. (At this point there is no difference between Reformed and non-Reformed.)

Their salvation is sure and solid because Christ not only acted to save them, but acts to preserve them, even now. (The author is referring to the Calvinistic doctrine of the Perseverance of the Saints, which teaches that once a man is saved, his salvation cannot be lost.)

Their actions cannot deprive them of something that their actions never obtained in the first place. (This is a reference to the Calvinistic doctrine of Total Depravity, which teaches that there is no part of us that participated in our salvation.

We really need to question the author at this point. He as a Calvinist/Reformist believes that God chooses those who will be saved. Those people are known as the Elect. Remember, the author described the dying person: "Yes, they profess to be a Christian," which suggests that this person is one of the Elect based on his profession of faith.  

The questions are, who specifically can the author identify as Elect? Does the author actually know? Can he stand at the bedside of a dying person and really be confident this person is one of the Elect? In fact, how does he know this person is not a false convert that will eventually fall away?

The answer is that only God knows this information. The author can assume he and others are the Elect, but really, experience has shown us that even the most admired Christians among us have sometimes fallen away. So his Reformed doctrine is of no help at all. Yet he thinks his doctrine is superior to "Arminianism" but there is no more or less assurance of salvation for either camp. He cannot know who is elect, and the "Arminians" cannot know who will persevere. 

But even more problematic is that the author presents this particular doctrinal issue as emblematic of the problem. He considers the issue of assurance of salvation to be a primary doctrine, one which could impede the fellowship of the brethren. 

Astonishing.)

I recognize, of course, that Wesleyan believers (Unexplained term.)

and Roman believers (Unexplained term.)

have their own answers to these questions, and I certainly do not intend to imply that either are Pelagian (Unexplained term.)

in how they go about it. But I cannot speak for them; I can only say how I would answer it as a typical Presbyterian Christian—and the above is my answer.

The difficulty that worries me when I hear comments like that quoted above from this non-denominational pastor, then, is this: If you are explicitly non-denominational in your church's life and averse to talking about hard theology (That pastor made no such comment.)

because you perceive it as divisive and or distracting to do so, (That pastor made no such comment.)

then you won't have anything to draw on as you sit in that hospital room... (This is a spectacularly insulting claim. The author thinks that if you don't consider his doctrines to be front and center then you have nothing to offer. What?)

or, if you do end up having something to say, it's because you aren't actually as averse to theological reasoning as you think you are. (What is "theological reasoning?" Does the author really think that he engages in "theological reasoning" while his theological detractors are superficial and trite? This is arrogant presumption.) 

The reality is that specific Christian doctrines actually do certain things in the life of the church. If you remove the doctrine (That pastor made no such comment.)

or you claim it is unnecessary, (That pastor made no such comment.)

you will be in for a hard lesson when you encounter the problem that doctrine helps you to address. And this is my fear for what a non-denominational future will mean for the American church. (The author inflates the situation to the bursting point, based on a very innocuous idea, that certain doctrines "don't matter that much." This does not mean they do not matter, or that they shouldn't be discussed, or that they should be eliminated, it's that they don't matter that much.)

Theology is existential. (?? Why did the author use this word? We suppose that the meaning he intended was: 

2. philosophy
pertaining to what exists, and is thus known by experience rather than reason; empirical as opposed to theoretical

But how do we interpret his comment? Theology exists by experience, or is actual and not theoretical? What is the author telling us?

Or, did he intend to write "essential?")

To remove specific theological questions from Christian ministry (Who is doing this?)

and church life or to dismiss them as trivia (Who is doing this?)

is to render yourself ill-equipped for facing the problems that those theological questions are meant to answer.

This was a lesson I learned quite directly in college through my participation in the PCA's campus ministry, Reformed University Fellowship. I was a curious and bookish English and History major (This helps us to understand the author. His approach to theology is "bookish," so he expects everyone to be "bookish" in their theology. This means that if he finds someone who does not share his approach they are deficient, not him.)

who had many theological questions. When I went to the non-denominational ministries, the answers I was offered were non-committal. (According to his arbitrary standard.)

Ask about baptism and you'd hear about how Christians disagree on x, y, and z. (A secondary doctrine.)

Ask about divine sovereignty and you'll run into the same game. (Questions about God's nature are certainly legitimate. But the topic at hand is Christian unity, not if the author has better doctrines, or can better explain his doctrines.)

But if I asked my RUF campus minister the same questions, he could give me plain, direct answers. "Well, in our churches we baptize infants and we use sprinkling to baptize and these are the reasons why." 

My point here is not to say that everyone ought to become Presbyterian or Calvinist or paedobaptist, though obviously those are the things I believe. Rather, it's something more specific: If I ask a question about baptism or about how Christians persevere in a life of discipleship, I can have a clear idea of how a Catholic would answer that or a Presbyterian or a Lutheran. I do not know how a "non-denominational Christian" answers that. (...because this is what is important to the author. He has a different approach than others. He has things that interest him. His order of priorities are different that others. He thinks about things in ways that others might not. 

In other words, his approach to doctrine rises to the level of a doctrine in itself. So people who think differently are doctrinally deficient.)

And that reality worries and grieves me when I consider the ordinary people trying to follow Jesus amidst the dangers and difficulties and pains of this life who have been drawn to non-denominational churches because of their friendliness, sincere love, and their joy in Jesus. Such people will be confronted by these problems at some point in their lives. And if you don't know something is a problem until you are facing it it will be far harder to answer it adequately. (That's a pretty big "if." "If" someone doesn't share the author's doctrinal approach, and "if" something comes up in life, and "if" that person can't answer it "adequately," then.... then....?)

Theological problems are not a distraction from the Christian life. Rather, they are the questions that arise organically out of our attempt to live that life. It is for that reason that you cannot dodge or evade the hard and even annoying questions of Christian theology indefinitely. At some point, circumstances will arise, such that you need an answer—and when that does happen, it is enormously helpful to have a confession or theological tradition to guide your response. (The author has finally arrived, and it's a place that bears no resemblance to the starting point. He has modified, enhanced, and magnified the issue into a grand problem that might precipitate some crisis in the future. 

All because his valued intricate doctrine is less important to some people.)

Jake Meador is the editor-in-chief of Mere Orthodoxy. His writing has appeared in The Atlantic, Commonweal, First Things, Books & Culture, National Review, Comment, Books & Culture, and Christianity Today. He is a contributing editor with Plough and a contributing writer at the Dispatch. He lives in his hometown of Lincoln, NE with his wife and four children.