A (Sort of) Book Review: Ever Ancient, Ever New

Winfield Bevins. Ever Ancient, Ever New: The Allure of Liturgy for a New Generation. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2019.

I was incredibly excited about this one. Sometimes when you look at a book you think “this was written just for me”. That’s basically where my mind was on this one before I dove in. Winfield Bevins, Director of Church Planting at Asbury Seminary, sought to depict something of the movement of millenials and younger GenXers back to high liturgical forms of Church. As I’ve noted elsewhere, even though I am part of free church movement, I absolutely love “high” liturgy type worship. and the Spiritual practices of these traditions (Roman Catholic, Orthodox, Anglican). I find the forms work really well for me, keep my easily distracted mind engaged, and are saturated by Scripture, beauty, wonder, and (this may sound odd) a logical structure.

On some levels, this book came up short (more below), but it did resonate on a lot of personal levels. The stories of folks discovering the beauty, rooted spirituality, and discipleship potential of liturgical traditions was reassuring to find. It’s good to know I’m not alone in this.

Ever Ancient, Ever New is divided into three sections: “Foundations” which looks at some trends observed in movements away from consumerist influenced evangelical churches to traditional, “high liturgical” ones; “Journeys” which looks at some of the reasons why this is happening; and “Practices” which provides some basic laying out of what these churches look like for those not familiar with the practices. Without being overly harsh on evangelical free church forms, he critiques the forms for their occasionally consumerist approach in which things are driven by the quality of the worship band, charisma of the preacher, and hip look of the worship space. In a culture where GenXers and millenials want more than a performance; they desire a community in which they are fully engaged participants, the forms of high liturgy can speak powerfully, as worship is intentionally structure to facilitate the participation of all voices with the leaders, each other, and most importantly with God.

What I found did not work is that it is primarily anecdotal, with no real hard data. Is this really a significant trend, or did Bevins find a few examples of this and from that suggest a general trend? Is this a trickle, a tsunami, or a leak in a dam about to busrt? I realize Bevins wasn’t conducting scientific research (though I suspect some data is available somewhere which could have been cited?). This is mainly an exercise in letting the stories and experiences of others be heard. But I’m interested in whether this is something isolated to a few pockets or real movement. The stories help personalize things, to understand motivations straight from the people involved, but perhaps the stories should be illustrative rather than the core. He’s asking why this is happening, without establishing what is actually happening.

The second issue I had was in the “Practices” section. It was quite shallow, giving just a few paragraphs which don’t really depict how and why these practices are done, just that they are done. For example, the description of Lectio Divina does not explain the four aspects (lectio, meditatio, oratio, contemplatio). I would have hoped for more on that. The section on practices, instead, is primarily focused on the intersections of worship and mission, especially the interest in social justice. This is good and important, but it doesn’t answer the question of where those liturgical practices come from, the biblical/theological underpinnings, why they matter, and how they can be done for beginners. Bevins leaves out a lot of the information on why and how the liturgical tradition developed the way it did. How did the Church at the time these traditions were established understand Scripture, theology, worship, prayer, the Eucharist, and their place in the world? Andrew McGowan’s outstanding work, Ancient Christian Worship examines these roots, and some of that would speak powerfully in Bevins work.

Overall, I think Bevins achieved his goal of sharing the experience of those who have discovered something eye-opening and live-giving in liturgical traditions. He allows the voices of those for whom this is their reality to speak without getting in the way and adding too much of his own commentary. He has written something which can be picked up and understood by a general audience, and because it comes from a publisher which usually produces material for those not of the high church tradition, it has the potential to engage an audience which may benefit from hearing these stories, and understand more of the history of worship and church identity.

New Logo Design

Thanks to Sandi at Van Pelt’s Business Solutions for helping us put together a new, not yet official, logo design for Centre Street. This is part of our new push to increase visibility in the city of St Thomas. Often when I mention that I am the pastor at Centre Street, people ask “which one is that?” When I say downtown, on Southwick St, just South of Talbot, people say “The green steeple or the purple steeple?”. Church steeples have always been meant to make that particular church easy to find. Our beautiful steeple, with the “bat” at the top (it’s a dove, but we’ve been asked why we have a bat there, and have been called the “bat church”, though not because bats occassionally find a way in- which does happen in old buildings like ours). Our building has stood in the central part of town since 1879, and our steeple is visible from quite a distance. The original steeple was burned after being hit by lightning, but was quickly rebuilt. This new logo captures our desire to make ourselves known, to demonstrate to the city who we are, and more importantly to fulfill our mission to share God’s love and the Good News.

A (Sort of) Book Review: Contesting Catholicity

Curtis W. Freeman, Contesting Catholicity: Theology for Other Baptists. Waco: Baylor University Press, 2014.

As I’ve noted elsewhere, I sometimes find myself not fitting in comfortably among Baptists, but still very much rooted and unmoving from my people. I know I don’t lean towards the more fundamentalist/conservative evangelical camp, and I’m not entirely comfortable among the “liberal”/progressive camp either. Sometimes those of us who don’t fit in either group get labeled the “muddy middle”, implying perhaps that we’re unclear, or wavering, or unwilling to take a stand one way or the other, or that we’re trying to be some sort of via media between two warring camps to avoid controversy. Curtis Freeman calls folks like us “other Baptists”, but seeks to develop a vision for Baptist theology which is neither “liberal” (I hate using that term for theology, but that’s another story for another day) nor fundamentalist, but is something other than an attempt to sit in between, but to move beyond that battle. Contesting Catholicity builds on earlier work by James Wm. McClendon Jr, Steven Harmon, and others trying to break free of the fundamentalist-liberal battles which have characterized Baptist theology since at least the 19^th century, both sides of which Freeman suggests (echoing McClendon) are unsustainable.

Freeman explores Baptist history, to demonstrate that early Baptists attempted to chart a course within the stream of (emphasis on small c) catholicity, but as contesting voices within that community. Echoing Harmon, Freeman suggests recovering some of that heritage can provide a renewed vision of Baptist theology which is rooted in the historic catholic identity but distinctly Baptist. In part one, Freeman explores the current situation, the “sickness unto death,” which characterizes Baptist theological conversations and the alternate visions cast by the two camps. He suggests that the solution is to develop what he calls a “generous liberal orthodoxy”, which is not liberal in the sense of the common usage of that word as a pejorative label which refers to leaving behind traditionalism in favour of subjective, experiential redefinition of religious truth, but is liberal in the sense of making use of the tools developed in modern scholarly work to be put to use within the confines of confessional orthodoxy. This “liberal orthodoxy” is also “generous” in making space for ecumenical dialogue and resourcing from differing camps within, an also beyond the Baptist boundaries.

Part two then lays out some theological areas for building a foundation for Baptist theology. The areas he proposes for this foundation include: 1) a robust (Nicene) trinitarianism; 2) a vibrant priesthood of all believers (with a refined/clarified vision of soul liberty/competency); 3) a deeply communal ecclesiological space for doing theology (in contrast to the often individualistic trends of both fundamentalism and “liberal” theology); 4) a discerning approach to biblicism which allows room for “more light from the word” through a “communal hermeneutic”; 5) an “evangelical sacramentalism” which views baptism and the Lord’s supper not as “magical” but not as “mere symbolism”, which is to think little of them and makes them optional, but as actions performed in the presence of God which have an ontological impact; and 6) a willingness to rethink the relationship between baptism and membership, as the typical closed membership approach of requiring believer’s baptism by immersion for membership for confessing Christians, which reduces baptism to a means to join membership in the local church, rather than an entry into the death and resurrection of Jesus.

This book is incredibly encouraging and objectively well-written. Freeman presents extensive research in Baptist historical primary sources, from a variety of documentary sources (sermons, newsletters, tracts, books, confessions/faith statements, etc.) and perspectives (particular Baptists, general Baptists, Southern, British, etc) which develops a diverse picture of Baptists through the 400 years of our history. Freeman draws Baptist identity out from under the attempts to homogenize or revision the origins of the Baptist tradition. The final vision is of a theological framework for Baptists which taps into all the resources our history has at its disposal. The vision is robust, anchored in a solidly orthodox foundation, but also able to make room for conversations, clarity, nuance, and diversity in practice in order to respond to the needs “on the ground” for each local community- and the local community is very much at the heart of Freeman’s vision. Thus, this vision allows for greater ecumenical work with other traditions, while not losing a distinctively Baptist identity. Freeman does not seek to impose a set of “set in stone” doctrinal positions which should define Baptist theology, but a set of core principles which define the space for theological exploration and a vision for what Baptist theology can do and should be doing.

Odds are, this vision will rub both fundamentalists and “liberals” the wrong way, but I think that may have been the point- to generate a vision which is “other”. However, the risk in this is that the “other baptist” vision may simply turn a two party battle in a three sided battle. On the flip side, by developing a vision for “other Baptists”, Freeman clearly marks out the possibility of a theological space which is not stuck in between two parties, but is something else- not a muddy middle trying to survive in no-man’s land between the two sets of trenches refusing to take a hard stand. Instead “other Baptists” can present a robust theological vision which is not rigid, but not wishy-washy either. The vision Freeman offers needs to percolate and be refined some more, but it is a very helpful starting point for an important conversation. As an “other Baptist” myself, it is encouraging and vital to have this book at my disposal for framing my own theological vision, and leading in a Baptist congregation where theological specifics are diverse but all are seeking to faithfully live out our calling as contesting voices in the Church catholic.

Christ at the Centre

Sunday, October 29th, 2017. 178th Anniversary service. “Christ at the Centre” Speaker: Pastor Emeritus, Rev. Dorman Quinton.

Why I Am (Still) a Baptist

We believe… in one holy, catholic, and apostolic church. (The Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed, 381 AD)

In my undergrad I took a course on the intellectual history of Europe in the Post French Revolution era. Our major assignment was a biographical paper on an influential thinker from that period which we drew from a hat. I drew John Henry Newman, a key leader of the Oxford Movement. Despite his vocal denunciations of the papacy, he was eventually received into the Roman Catholic Church, even becoming a Cardinal. A key turning point in his journey was a study of the heresies of the early church, and the Creeds of the early church councils, and in particular, the confession of belief in “one holy, catholic, and apostolic church”. Many of us who identify as protestant get squeamish around the word catholic. But of course, the Vatican doesn’t own that word- it simply means universal. The early church believed in just one church in all places and times.

I have had various periods of deep sympathy for Newman’s struggle. How can I, as a baptist- a protestant- confess that I believe in one holy, catholic, and apostolic church? There have been attempts to draw lines from the early baptists back to the apostles, but these are terribly strained, and to claim that the baptists are the universal church is problematic at best (completely absurd at worst). So do I drop the Creed and sever ties to the historical confession of the Church? Well that’s problematic. Do I “swim the Tiber” and become Roman Catholic? Or become Eastern Orthodox (since their claim to Apostolicity is arguably stronger than the Vatican’s)? Do I go for the via media of the Anglican communion which connects their bishops to the historical line back to the Apostles and claims to be a communion which is part of the one catholic church but doesn’t claim to be the sole claimant of the designation one catholic church? Or do I find some way to embrace my Baptist identity with all the tension it requires? The last option is where I’ve landed. It’s awkward, but the alternatives are, for me, just as much so, if not more.

First, I think it’s worth asking is the belief in a single, unified church necessary? The bishops gathered in Constantinople in 381 thought so (and there were important historical factors for the update to the Creed to include this assertion). Jesus prayed for the unity of his people (John 17:20-21), and Paul wrote there is one body, and the unity of that body must be maintained (Ephesians 4:3-6). So this idea of a single church is both biblically, and historically vital, essential even… and yet, here we are, a body deeply divided. Where is this one body? Who is part of it and who is schismatic and false?

These questions began swirling again last year, for the umpteenth time, because of a few interactions with other clergy friends, and really got going when my social media feed was flooded with both pro and con stuff surrounding the T4G conference, the theme of which was “We Are Protestant”; an evangelical conference beginning celebrations of the protestant reformation’s 500th anniversary. And of course, my thoughts were “why is this a cause for boasting and celebration”? Shouldn’t the breaking apart of the already split Body of Christ be cause for lament?

More recently these questions came to a head when I read Steve Harmon’s Towards Baptist Catholicity. Harmon, and other recent baptists have done impeccable work in examining early baptist confessions and their attempts to navigate their connection to the historical church- the one holy, catholic, and apostolic church. Harmon suggests that early baptists intentionally retained language which reflected/echoed the creeds of the early church, and they were keen to maintain an identity within the apostolic tradition. In the 1700s, a shift began, partly in response to the challenges of the Enlightenment, towards a “no creed but the bible” mentality which became increasingly distinct from the historical trajectory of the church, and from liturgical traditions and historical methods of articulating doctrine and prayer. Harmon and others have called for a baptist recovery of more catholic, historical, liturgical traditions like recitation of the Creeds, reading the Church Fathers as a source of authority (obviously not equal to Scripture, but authoritative as a help to interpretation of Scripture and for liturgical tradition), and other parts of the theology and practice of church traditions.

In his concluding chapter, Harmon reflects on the question of why he doesn’t just move over to the Catholic, or perhaps Orthodox or Anglican tradition, all of which embrace these practices and can lay some claim to apostolic tradition? If we profess a belief in a single church, how can we stay in a denomination which is part of a schismatic movement? Is not our communion in opposition to our profession? I’ve been asked the same question myself- and more than one person has said, only half-jokingly, I’d make a better Anglican than I do a Baptist. There is so much I love about the high church traditions of Roman Catholicism, Eastern Orthodoxy, and Anglicanism. For instance, I think their attention to tradition provides them with tools developed over time which evangelicals desperately need; practice of the spiritual disciplines of prayer, fasting, confession, liturgy, lectio divina, the church calendar, art, etc. These practices have created a much deeper, fuller, more robust spiritual theology and appreciation of beauty, wonder, mystery. Evangelicals often dismiss these things as “empty ritualism” but I’ve found them to be anything but empty. The evangelical skepticism of these things is disheartening and robbing us of so much potential. The “no creed but the bible” attitude which developed in evangelical thought generally and baptists particularly has removed our connection to the great cloud of witnesses and contains within it a very dangerous element; the idea that I can read the Scriptures apart from the body of Christ without causing damage to the body, my interpretation of the Scriptures (or the interpretation presented by some which I prefer to make my own), and myself. This isn’t to in any way diminish the authority of the Bible (as is often the accusation) but to recognize that Scripture comes into existence in the context of the Church and that the Church was the vehicle of inspiration of the text. To disconnect the Scriptures from the “one holy, catholic, and apostolic Church” and read it in isolation from our history is to misunderstand what the Bible actually is. No creed but the bible is, in reality, naive at best, and destructive and unbiblical at worst.

Of course, I have interpretation and doctrinal differences with the Catholic/Anglican/Orthodox traditions (more below), but there are times when I think they have it right, and my own tradition is wrong. For example, the Eastern Orthodox understanding of soteriology and the meaning of the incarnation, death, and resurrection of Jesus developed by the Eastern Fathers is, I believe, more biblical than the model most often espoused by evangelicals (which understands the cross in terms of forensic imputation and/or satisfaction of God’s holiness and wrath, and fits incredibly awkwardly with the Incarnation). I am consistently amazed by the biblical scholarship and gracious, robust thinking which has been happening in the Anglican, Catholic, and Orthodox communions over the past several decades. Show me an evangelical who has the exegetical prowess of Luke Timothy Johnson or the late Joseph Fitzmyer SJ. And show me a more concise, beautiful, inspiring introduction to the Christian faith than Kallistos Ware’s The Orthodox Way. Or show me a better author on pastoral practice than Henri Nouwen. And who in the evangelical world is as influential right now as NT Wright?

But I am still Baptist. And I have no plans to move, in spite of a few tensions with that identity.

So why do I stay put?

First, there the doctrinal concerns. Harmon admits that he has valid doctrinal disagreements with the Roman Catholic Church, the Orthodox Church, and the Anglican Communion and I, as a Baptist, share these and similar concerns (Baptism, Mariology, Papal authority, transubstantiation, the rejection of the ordination of women). I admit that the case for many of these doctrines are better than most protestants actually think. But I still can’t embrace them. So can I belong where liturgical practice and doctrinal confessions declare things I believe to be false?

Like Harmon I wonder if these can or should be barriers to fellowship. Can I disagree within the one body? Harmon envisions an opportunity for baptists to be dissenters within the apostolic tradition, rather than outsiders to the tradition. Now, most would probably be quick to say that these doctrinal differences do require separation, but I’d echo Harmon’s caution here. I say that for two reasons; first, most evangelicals have no problem worshipping and praying with folks of other traditions with whom they disagree on certain doctrinal things (e.g. Baptists typically get along well with Presbyterians even though they adamantly disagree on baptism). So, where do we draw the lines between willingness to pray/worship/minister together and actually have denominational fellowship (especially since denominations are the very problem I’m wrestling with here). Second, do I agree with Baptists on all issues of doctrine? Of course there are various Baptist fellowships, and the denomination to which I belong is just one. But do I always agree with the Baptists within my own denomination? No. In fact, one colleague even declared his hatred of my doctrinal positions from the pulpit of the congregation where he serves. And yet those disagreements apparently do not require a separation. Why is that? For myself, within the CBOQ I can appreciate the allowance for a spectrum of belief on many subjects, so I’m not opposing any of our official doctrines. Everything I hold to doctrinally is well attested within the scope of historical orthodoxy- within the “one holy, catholic, and apostolic church”, as well as within the baptist tradition more broadly. However, some of my doctrine and liturgical and spiritual practices fit a bit awkwardly among my own tradition, and quite comfortably elsewhere.

I think the strength of my own denomination is the allowance for this diversity. Some disagree on this. That’s fair. I can appreciate the desire for likeness of mind on this. But I’ve also read enough of the Early Church Fathers to know that they allowed for more freedom and diversity than we often assume.

Second, and more importantly: these are my people. Harmon concludes that leaving the tradition where he was discipled in the faith, that is the community which invested in him, would be a breach of a cherished fellowship, leaving one’s own people. And I have similar tensions. I am a Baptist. I was baptized in a baptist church, by a baptist pastor, went to 3 different baptist post-secondary schools. I was called by a baptist church to pastor, and am now ordained by the Canadian Baptists of Ontario and Quebec. But perhaps more importantly, I was called here to Centre Street Baptist Church specifically, and still feel as strongly (or even stronger) now about my calling to be here, ministering with and to these particular people, this particular congregation.

Not too long ago I was having lunch with the priest at the nearby Catholic Church, and we discussed the idea of boundaries of fellowship between us. His own tradition frames the limits around the Eucharist. He and I can pray together, worship together, eat together, etc. But he cannot serve me the Eucharist because the broken Eucharistic fellowship of our two communions lamentably constrains him. He asked if he came to Centre Street, would he be allowed to participate with us. My answer was that since we practice open communion, (those who profess faith in Jesus Christ are welcomed; the old cliche that this is not our table, not a baptist table, but the Lord’s table) nothing on our side actually prohibits him from participating with us. He was surprised, and said he’d likely not partake.

And there I think is the proverbial rub for me. Why can I not leave the tradition I’m in for another? Because to do so would require me to sever table fellowship with the community which led me to Christ, and bore witness with me as I was baptized, and taught me to pray, and read Scripture; the folks who taught me to belong to the Body of Christ. Belonging elsewhere would also mean not belonging with my people.

These are my people. I am part of this group which is lamentably not visibly part of a single catholic church. Are we irreparably broken? Will the schism only end when Christ returns and sets all things right? There should be real tension and heartbreak among us, which I don’t think has sunk in as it should among protestants. How can we build more and more bridges? How can we develop greater ecumenical sharing and co-operation in serving God’s Kingdom here on earth? I have to echo Harmon, that developing a greater appreciation of the history of the Church, and reclaiming a sense of belonging to the one holy, catholic, and apostolic church is probably the best way to move towards greater unity.

Book Review: Towards Baptist Catholicity

Steven R. Harmon. Towards Baptist Catholicity: Essays on Tradition and the Baptist Vision (Studies in Baptist History and Thought Volume 27). Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2006.

There are objectively good books (well researched, beautifully written, well structured, etc), and there are books that truly resonate with you personally- which address the exact thing you need addressed, and sometimes you may even find books that are both. This one is both for me. Steven Harmon has written the exact book I needed to read at this point. And I don’t just say that because we’re “friends” on Facebook and I am pretty sure he’s going to read this. This truly is the book I needed in my current context, and it is truly superbly written. My hope is to write a follow up piece to this review which unpacks some of the more personal context surrounding why this book resonated the way it did, but that would not fit into a review of the book itself.

Towards Baptist Catholicity is a collection of various essays, most of which come out of prior papers and lectures Harmon presented, now collected together and reworked to be coherent around a single topic: the inherent value in Baptists recovering tradition (particularly from patristic sources) as a source of authority and direction to bring revitalization to the Baptist vision and movement. Harmon demonstrates how early Baptists sought to maintain a connection to antiquity and included resonances of the ancient creeds in their confessions of faith (using specifically Nicene rather than biblical vocabulary) consciously placing themselves within the historic, catholic, apostolic tradition, albeit as voices of dissent against the then present state of the Church. Later Baptist confessions began removing these explicit resonances, or in some cases, ditching confessions and creeds altogether in favour of a “no creed but the bible” approach to theology. In doing so, the Baptist movement developed under an increasing influence of modernity, and the triadic narrative Gospel (the work of God in history through the three persons of the Trinity) was displaced by a Gospel of intellectual assent to a collection of more abstracted doctrines extrapolated from newly developed methods of exegesis (this influence manifested in two separate directions within protestantism; fundamentalism and “liberal” theologies equally drinking from the same well). Harmon’s suggestion is that as modernity continues to shift away from the Enlightenment ideals, the narrative forms of traditional orthodoxy and catholicity, and the means of communicating that theology liturgically, can and should be recovered as a guide for the Baptist movement, shifting from its position as dissenters from outside of tradition, to dissenters within the catholic tradition. We need not become Catholic in the sense of Roman Catholic, but develop a sense of Baptists as part of catholicity- a “thick ecumenism” which draws heavily from the broader church rather than reduced to the results of individualistic modern exegesis.

Throughout, Harmon shows his skill as a historical theologian, digging deep into early English Baptist confessions and the changes which come in later Baptist confessions (the Philadelphia Confession of Faith, the New Hampshire Confession of Faith, and the various revisions of the SBC’s Faith and Message). He also digs into his speciality: patristic sources, as well as several modern theologians who sought similar recovery of patrisitic sources for the 20th and 21st century church (Oden, Barth, etc.). The primary source research is stunning, as is the frequent engagement with secondary sources from a variety of perspectives (though at times perhaps a bit heavy on folks with whom he agrees).

Harmon also includes considerable personal reflection from his own experience within the Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) which went through tremendous conflict while Harmon was in the theological education process. That conflict ultimately saw a more conservative demographic take over leadership and reshape the identity of the denomination leading to a large group breaking with the convention to form the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship (CBF), with whom Harmon is currently affiliated. The concluding chapter addresses the question “what keeps you from becoming Catholic”; a reflection on why Harmon remains part of the Baptist tradition while still pushing for a development of catholicity within that tradition rather than change affiliations. My own thinking and experience has been similar to Harmon’s, and I hope to share some of my own thoughts in the follow up piece. Harmon’s conclusion is that Baptist identity is not something to be shed easily. He identifies some reservations around Catholic, Anglican, and Orthodox practice and doctrine, which he argues are important, but would not ultimately be insurmountable for him to make a shift. For Harmon it is the ecclesial identity which keeps him where he is; he was formed and shaped within a particular tradition, and moving from one body to another would require breaking of fellowship; to become Catholic is to sever a relationship with Baptists, to break communion, and in essence assert the body which discipled him to be a false body. He concludes that a far better way forward is not to break with one and join another. Instead he suggests; “before the separated churches can move towards visible unity, they must first go deep within their own traditions in order to recover elements of catholicity that once characterized their own churches but have been subsequently neglected.”(202) In other words, the unity of the Church as a whole cannot be achieved through individuals severing ties with their formative traditions, but through a consistent reflection on the way in which one’s community has moved and developed, and a push to recover an identity as part of the catholic church. By revisiting the sources of Christian tradition, and looking at the means by which the Church communicated its faith in early catholic expression (liturgy, calendar, eucharist, etc.) Baptists can recover an identity within a tradition flowing out of and in communion with the Church through history, rather than a voice of dissent distancing itself from everything which came in between the Apostles and the present.

Harmon’s challenge is an important one, not just for Baptists but for all protestants- to think deeply, creatively, and critically about what the ramifications of our break with tradition and catholicity really means for us. The refusal to accept tradition as a source of authority in favour of a “no creed but the bible” approach has consequences, some of which are quite harmful. It fails to recognize the role and impact of individual interpretation. Harmon includes a “case study” of sorts highlighting the patristic exegesis of the Epistle to the Hebrews and how many modern conflicts, especially when Calvinists and Arminians examine Hebrews 6:1-8, could potentially be rerouted, because the text in patristic exegesis never produced the same conflicts, because they approached the text differently. The “no creed but the bible” approach has proven to have fracturing effect among evangelicals rather than a unifying one. Harmon suggests that the tradition of the Church can possibly assist in finding unity not in uniform interpretation of Scripture, but in the core narrative expressed in the early creeds. By recovering this catholicity by going back to the creeds, the church year which walks through the narrative each year, increased frequency of the Lord’s Supper, and other aspects which were part of early Baptist identity, but later cut out, we can potentially bring a renewed sense of unity to a fractured group.

I would certainly place this into the “required reading” category for Baptist leaders. Harmon’s voice is one which, if heeded, I believe can make a difference in drawing people back together. The individualism, dissension, anti-traditionalism, “chronological snobbery”, and in some cases anti-intellectualism/fundamentalism often evident in recent (mid 18th century – present) Baptist thought is confronted with gracious, constructive, and highly intelligent reminders of our identity and a vision of what can be recovered and built on. The work begun in this book (and by other Baptist theologians who have worked closely with Harmon on some join statements included as appendices) can help us chart a course towards a renewed, constructive, unified identity which will be of great benefit as we seek to respond to the challenges of the shift in our cultural context.

Book Review: Compassion and the Mission of God

Rupen Das. Compassion and the Mission of God: Revealing the Invisible Kingdom. Carlisle: Langham, 2016.

Objectively reviewing books written by acquaintances, colleagues, and friends is always difficult to do. This is eased considerably when the work they’ve produced is undeniably really, really good. Such is the case with Rupen Das’ new book, Compassion and the Mission of God. Rupen gave me a copy when he came to speak at Centre Street in May. Rupen Das and his wife Mamta are our partners in mission (PIM) through Canadian Baptist Ministries, currently working out of Amsterdam on development and relief projects through the European Baptist Federation. His work focuses considerable attention and resources on the Syrian refugee crisis both in Europe as refugees flee the Middle East, but also in the Middle East itself through partners like LSESD, and local congregations on the ground. I first met Rupen in Beirut, Lebanon in 2013 when I was there to see first hand the amazing work happening through Baptists in Lebanon. After returning home, and sharing about what is happening, Centre Street enthusiastically decided to make Rupen and Mamta our new PIM, as Colin and Karen Godwin were coming back to Canada with Colin taking up a new position at Carey Theological College in Vancouver.

Compassion and the Mission of God centres around the questions of integral mission- how it is that care and concern for the poor relates to the proclamation of the Good News. It would not be disputed among Christians that the Church should be engaged in charitable work; using our resources to help those in need. But what is the theological grounding for that? And where does the work of development to alleviate not just immediate concerns, but systemic issues of poverty, insecurity, and lack of access to things like education, medical care, etc. fit into all of this? Is that the work of NGOs or government aid? Or does biblical theology place this as a major concern for God’s people? Rupen Das argues that all of these things are part of the biblical picture of the Kingdom of God.

All of this flows from the prelimary question (p. 9-12) why does the bible seem to commit so much time, and reveal such a deep concern for the poor? If the mission of the Church is focused on the issues of redemption from sin through repentance and faith, why does the care for the poor still have such a seemingly central place? How are these things connected? Chapter 2 frames the discussion, by discussing hermeneutical concerns, and surveying the key common conclusions drawn by Christians of different stripes. Then in chapters 3, 4, & 5, Das examines the biblical text’s consistent call for concern for the poor (The Old Testament, the Gospels, and the Epistles and Early Church respectively) and which inform Christ mission. Das demonstrates that throughout the entirety of Scripture concern for the vulnerable is a key component of justice and righteousness; that God’s concern is care for his creation, and we as his image bearers must show the same concern, especially for the poor and vulnerable.

Chapter 6 deals with theological challenges- defining the Gospel (which Das connects very closely with the Kingdom of God coming on earth, thus involves a strong sense of reordering God’s creation according to his design and character) and the influence of various eschatologies on the practice of relief and development, in particular the ways in which dispensationlism downplays the need to steward creation and develop communities since the time is close at hand for God to destroy the planet and start over. Das argues against this depiction, instead demonstrating that God’s renewal of heaven and earth is close at hand, and we are bring the future vision of the new creation to bear in the present as part of our witness to life in the age to come.

Chapters 7-9 look at the influences on modern mission; liberation theology, fundamentalism, the Lausanne Covenant, and the Micah Declaration, and how the notions of what mission in the world looks like, shifting from a colonial mindset towards integral mission- a balanced approach of word and deed in sustainable ways which preserve dignity of indigenous cultures- and the development of a mission focused on transformation through witness as both proclamation of the Gospel and the tangible outworking of the message of the coming Kingdom of God through justice, care, relief, and transforming communities to places where God’s care and concern for the poor is lived out.

Chapter 10 then develops the notion of the character of God as the basis for all of this. Das argues that because God creates out of his own goodness and continues to extend compassion to his creation, this is the theological anchor for the integral mission pattern developed in chapters 7-9. Ultimately our call to show care and concern and to work with communities and individuals to develop and just and caring pattern or system is a reflection of who God is.

Compassion and the Mission of God is perhaps the best thing I’ve read on this topic. Thoroughly researched, anchored in solidly biblical witness, and good systematic and hisorical theology, and effective practice of experts in missiology, Das doesn’t just regurgitate the already well established notions and practices, but draws various streams of thought together, critiquing the flaws honestly but graciously, and affirming the helpful aspects, and also then putting his own contribution on top of that, moving the conversation forward. Das is not trying to reinvent the wheel, but rests on the fine work of Stott, Newbiggin, Bosch, Niebuhr, Sider, Yoder and others. But he also brings to bear his decades of work in the field of community development and disaster relief. He weaves together good biblical theology, with missiological principles, and first hand experience. You are fed in multiple ways, and challenged in a very real sense to fit various pieces together in an integrated theology, rather than having theology on one side and mission as something only somewhat connected on the other.

Stylistically, it is clearly and methodically composed. The central argument is developped in a logical way, and doesn’t get lost in tangents. All the pieces fit together in a way that makes sense, and makes the point clear. In just 200 pages, he is able cover a whole lot of ground, because the focus is specific, and he stays on task. To draw together a biblical theology of mission, a systematic theology of mission, with historical development of mission into a concise volume without making one feel like something is missing would seem like a insurmountable task, but I think Das has managed just that.

Perhaps it’s just my own bias coming through, but at every point I found myself nodding in agreement, and affirming the argument being presented. I would wholeheartedly back Das’ vision of mission which reflects the Kingdom of God breaking into our world. The alleviating of suffering and brokenness caused by poverty, systemic injustice, disaster, oppression and violence is a steady and persistent thread in the biblical text. It’s a central focus of the early Church’s work. In no way can we separate the work towards care and concern for the vulnerable from the proclamation of the Gospel. This really should be required reading for Churches, parachurch groups, seminarians, and denominational bodies. In a globalized world, with the technology and opportunities we have in front of us, we can do far more to alleviate suffering than was possible in the past. Our reach has extended considerably, and Das has provided a solid theological foundation for developing a strong and potent witness which can be worked out in a variety of different situations and in a variety of different ways.

Book Review: Excellent Preaching

Craig Bartholomew. Excellent Preaching: Proclaiming the Gospel in its Context & Ours. Bellingham: Lexham Press, 2015.*

Preaching well is a goal of every Pastor. But what does excellent preaching look like, what does it do, and how do we do it? That’s the topic of Craig Bartholomew’s small book Excellent Preaching. The goal for Bartholomew here is to present preaching as the task of being faithful to the biblical text by reading it in it’s own context, but working to translate the text’s purposes for a 21st century context. Bartholomew argues that often preachers focus on one of these tasks or the other; being exegetically deep or being culturally relevant and applicable. Excellent Preaching challenges the preacher to be both, to take faithful exegesis seriously, but to then take the next steps to present the meaning of the text in a way which connects to the context of the audience of a given sermon; this is what the text means in its original context and this is what the text means for us here and now. Bartholomew uses the analogy of “landing the plane”. A sermon needs to get from its source to its destination. But how does it do that? Bartholomew notes the difference between a lecture and a sermon (12). It is not meant to simply convey information and the results of research, but it is also not meant to be simply emotional, to tell a good story or make people feel good. Instead it is meant to bring about transformation of the audience- that’s the destination. Bartholomew draws from his earlier research on the Scriptures as a grand narrative, and suggests a sermon should connect the text to the congregation to help them locate their place in the larger narrative of the Gospel picture of creation-fall-restoration-consummation. The sermon should therefore bridge the gap between the biblical world and the present situation.

The Good:

Brevity can be a very helpful thing. Sometimes, more needs to be said. But Excellent Preaching says what it’s meant to say in a compact, no-words-wasted, straight to the point form. At only 68 pages before the appendixes, bibliography, and index, there’s no meandering here. Bartholomew says what he wants to say, and doesn’t beat around the bush (I’m sure there’s a lesson in this for preachers like myself with a reputation for brain dumping, and being a little long-winded).

The thrust of the book is of course, quite correct. I would wholeheartedly agree that our preaching should be faithful to the biblical text and also presented in such a way that it proves to be relevant to the life on the audience to which one is speaking. The reminder to preachers needs to be reiterated- the purpose is not to provide a theology lecture, nor is it to simply serve platitudes that tug on heart strings, nor is it to be a self-help presentation. The sermon exists to bring the biblical text to the people in a way which allows them to see new ways to live out the teaching. Bartholomew challenges preachers to make the study of the text a primary concern, and challenges churches to ensure their leaders are able to devote themselves to the ministry of the word.

Bartholomew’s use of secondary sources is generally helpful. He leans on the experts, and frequently incorporates the work of notable thinkers. Bartholomew is very much Reformed leaning, so most of these sources are from other reformed minded folks (Stott, Barth, Newbiggin). Perhaps some more folks outside his own tradition might have been helpful to round things out, but the number of interactions with other sources in such a short, popular level work is commendable. It’s engaged, researched, and grounded in established work by experts in the field, and not simply anecdotal. But it also adds something to the conversation, by incorporating the Gospel metanarrative as a means to draw hearers into the text.

Bartholomew helpfully gives a few examples of how to do this, by selecting a few texts and showing how he would go about making this connection between the text world and the present (54-66). For each of those texts, he demonstrates the key telos of the passage- the heart or goal to which the text points, and how to draw that out and make it relevant to the new situation of the present. One example: Gal. 1:10-2:21 is his first text, which he identifies as having a key telos around Paul’s apostolic authority, which was being challenged by certain teachers trying to “Judaize” the newly converted Gentiles in Galatia. So what does the imposition of circumcision have to do with the present context? The issue to focus in on, according to Bartholomew is authority. Living in a culture which highly values independence and is suspicious of authority, this text can speak into the situation to balance things out- the extremes of oppressive authoritarian structures and complete lack of accountability are both bad. Paul’s challenges around authority are different from more present struggles, but can inform the present discussions.

The Not-so-good:

Because it does what it’s designed to do, and makes one specific argument, and the argument is a valid one, the criticisms one can make here are going to be stylistic issues. The first problem is in the first few pages, Bartholomew in calling people to avoid the two pitfalls of preaching noted above, uses unfortunately overly polemical and overly generalized language- conservative evangelicals tend towards the more exegetical but stuck in the biblical world, and “liberal” mainliners are stuck in the attempts to be culturally relevant, but are ignoring the biblical text. This over-generalization can potentially fuel hostilities and conflict between different traditions. It may have been helpful to nuance this a bit more. Many so-called mainliners are excellent and dilligent exegetes. Similarly, there are many evangelicals who are more focused on being relevant and appealing to the contemporary culture to draw in larger crowds. Obviously in a condensed space it’s hard to be nuanced, but more could have been done.

Second, the “Landing the Plane” analogy sometimes works, but sometimes doesn’t. Analogies are good, but become distracting when pushed to far, or when they feel forced. The captain, cargo, airport, view from arrivals, etc. distracts from the main thrust of the book, and Bartholomew expends too much effort trying to make the pieces fit into the image. Perhaps if the book was a tad longer, connecting the argument to the analogy could use more page space.

The other question one is left with is the role of preaching within the local church gathering. In some traditions preaching is something which, in terms of the amount of time given to it within the overall allotment within gatherings, receives less focus. Should the preaching be given less time so as to make it easy to retain, but also to allow the gathering to focus on acts of worship in song, prayer, sacraments/ordinances? How should the preaching connect with the other elements of the worship? The rest of the service should be in mind when framing a sermon, but how? Bartholomew doesn’t explore this.

Finally, Appendix B is an expanded Apostles’ Creed which is somewhat strange. It doesn’t lend much to overall impact of the book, so it’s placement here is a questionable choice. Also, unilaterally modifying a Creed is something which one has to wonder about.

Overall:

This little book is a helpful tool for Pastors, and anyone who is invited to speak from the pulpit. It clearly and simply articulates a central thesis, and provides some helpful “how to”. Bartholomew effectively calls Pastors to renewed focus on good exegetical practices, and commitment to deep study of the text of Scripture, while also encouraging those who preach to make the message engage with the real needs, concerns, and challenges of contemporary life. Excellent preaching should be something we value in our congregations, and the little volume is a welcomed, easy-to-read resource for those called to speak into the life of the local Church.

*This book was provided free of charge in exchange for an honest review. Many thanks to Lexham Press and Jessi Strong

A (Sort of) Book Review: Mending a Fractured Church

Michael Bird & Brian Rosner (eds.). Mending a Fractured Church: How to Seek Unity with Integrity. Bellingham: Lexham Press, 2015.*

It’s no secret that Christians disagree- sometimes with considerable harshness. It’s also no secret that the New Testament issues strong calls for the unity of the Church, and for graciousness and charity over disputable matters. But what are the non-disputable matters? How do you ensure that the discussion of disputable matters is charitable and does not lead to breaking of the unity? Mending a Fractured Church is meant to bring biblical, theological, and historical considerations to bear on these questions, and promote a greater sense of unity among Christians who still differ on some issues without losing or compromising essential doctrines.

What it’s about:

Mending a Fractured Church brings together a collection of scholars (almost all of whom are faculty at Ridley College in Australia; Peter Leithart being the exception) to examine the biblical precedents for handling disputes about doctrine or practice, as well as looking to Protestant history and contemporary challenges posed because of a plurality of backgrounds in contemporary churches. The authors attempt (as the subtitle suggests) to set precedents for how address theological concerns in ways which preserves the unity of the Church but doesn’t compromise doctrinal integrity.

The first essay (Andrew Malone) seeks to set the parameters: what do we mean by “disputable matters” and what does the New Testament give us in terms of defining the unity of the Church. The second (Lindsay Wilson) explores the dispute which is described in Joshua 22 (a dispute about the placement of an altar) and examines what was done well, and what was not done well in the case, and how we can avoid problems in conversations about perceived violations by other Christians. Third, Brian Rosner examines Paul’s instructions in Romans 14 concerning disputable matters, which centres around the issue of food- more specifically meat offered to idols. These instructions focus around accepting others who disagree on specific issues of practice which are as deemed non-essentials. Paul argues the believer is free, but ought to willingly curb the expression of freedom for the sake of accepting those who are not fully matured in that freedom. Fourth, Michael Bird examines the Johannine Epistles, noting that in the congregations to whom these letters are addressed, there had been a “parting of the ways” but this is not a justification for schism. Bird astutely and bluntly states “we need another denomination like we need another Babylonian captivity”. Bird argues that our commitment to the one Church ought to prevent us from leaving where we are, and “the good guys” should avoid being the ones doing the leaving (more on this below). Fifth, Rhys Bezzant examines Protestant history for examples of disagreement done poorly (using the Puritans mainly who held their church order as the only valid option and others as not part of the true church) and some done well (early evangelicals, particularly in Europe, who allowed considerable space for freedom of conscience on non-essentials, demanding unity around the central marker of the Gospel). Finally, Peter Leithart unpacks the challenges confronting church in the present, especially as immigration creates a plurality of cultures, in which Christians from various parts of the world bring particular practices and forms from one place to another. How does the Church accommodate these variations.

The Good:

This book is needed. The fracturing of the Church into a seemingly ever-growing number of denominations is a disconcerting development in our history as Christ’s Church. The Creed’s declaration of one Holy, apostolic, catholic church is at odds with the fragmented collection of denominations we see in the present. It seems we are divided more than we are united. The Church needs our leaders to lead the way toward greater unity, even if we continue to exist in various traditions. Setting some groundwork for that movement towards unity is something most Church leaders would agree needs to happen. We need precedents (especially biblical, but also historical) to set a framework to launch inter-denominational conversations. We need some folks to begin making big moves in a positive direction. These essays lay out some potential guidelines, biblical principles, for us to begin conversations from. Realistically we can’t expect any book of this type to solve all our problems, but we need some folks who are broadly respected, a category which among evangelicals, I believe, includes Michael Bird and Brian Rosner, who can be catalysts for further development. So while not the be-all-end-all, this is a good place to start; evangelical scholars bringing Scripture to bear on the disputes between “camps” within the Church.

As with all collections of essays, there are highlights. Given the fact that Romans 14 is perhaps the most extensive treatment in the New Testament on the issue of overcoming disputes, one would want any discussion of that passage to be rich, challenging, and central to the overall impact of the book. Rosner does achieve that. He capably points to Paul’s approach to the division over meat. He points that Paul calls upon the mature to curb their freedoms for the sake the less mature, so that offense may be avoided to keep the unity of the Church.

Rhys Bezzant’s essay was a pleasant surprise. He graciously, but effectively critiques the Puritan tradition, which, in a sense, became what it hated in the Roman Catholic Church- demanding that it alone was the true Church based on the markers of Church structure. He points to the early evangelical movement, and specifically the Evangelical Alliance, as a positive model, which made allowance for considerable disagreement, but provided a central core which could unite groups with varying opinions on non-essential matters.

The Not-So-Good:

One thing lacking was a proposal of some concrete examples of non-negotiables and disputable matters. There are a few bits in Bird’s work on the Johannine Epistles (incarnation, atonement) but what constitutes a disputable matter? Depending on who you speak to, they will define this differently. Is eternal torment in hell a disputable matter? Is the understanding of the model of atonement a disputable matter? Is women in ministry disputable? Is modes of baptism disputable? Is inerrancy disputable? How do we settle disputes over what is and isn’t disputable? Bird also suggests the “good guys” should not be the one’s to leave. Those who differ from the orthodox should be the one’s to walk away and the orthodox should allow for that if necessary. But the challenge comes with the question “who are the ‘good guys’?” How do we determine who has the high ground? When both sides insist on their position as the right one, and both camps assume they’re the “good guys”, this suggestion doesn’t provide much resolution.

The other key issue unresolved in the question of “how do we do this?” Moving from the theoretical belief that the Church should be one and not divide over disputable matters to actually mending divisions which have occurred, and preventing fractures which are beginning to form to lead to division, is a very real struggle, which this book does not address, which may have been helpful. An additional chapter or chapters on application, perhaps written by pastors or denominational leaders who have been part of reconciliation or conflict resolution would have been an appropriate here.

Overall:

In a period in Church history when disputable matters are fragmenting the body of Christ, it’s time for “big moves” toward unity. The unity of the Church is certainly placed, by Scripture, as something created by God in Christ, which we are called to steward and protect. For instance, Ephesians 2:14-22 (NRSV) says:

For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us.15 He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, 16 and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it. 17 So he came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near; 18 for through him both of us have access in one Spirit to the Father. 19 So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God,20 built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone.21 In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; 22 in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.

While Mending a Fractured Church won’t solve the problem of division (I’m sure no one is under the illusion it will), it is a strong push to begin or perhaps further build on a very serious, and much needed conversation- how do we maintain unity of the Church and maintain our convictions about doctrine and practice? So I commend Bird and Rosner for taking on the proverbial elephant in the room. This small volume succeeds in moving the conversation forward. The conversation will of course require more work. But each step towards a goal of greater unity is a good thing. The Church needs to be always reminded of the centrality of unity of Christ’s body in the New Testament. This call to action is a welcome one.

*The publishers supplied a free copy of this book in exchange for a review. I am thankful to Lexham Press and Jessie Strong for the opportunity to read and engage with this book.

Being a “Let Us” Community

Sunday, October 25th, 2015. 176th Anniversary Service. Guest Speaker, Rev. Heather Myers. Being a “Let Us” Community (Hebrews 10:19-25)