On Matthew Barrett’s Thomistic Baptistism: The Christologically Concentrated Alternative

I grew up Conservative Baptist (CBA), the son of a CBA pastor and church planter. We weren’t of the Reformed variety, neither were we of the Arminian type. We were what we liked to say Biblicists. In the main, this generally could identify most Baptists, or at least it did in the past. But of course, along this broad continuum there have indeed been, and are, Reformed Baptists, Freewill Baptists, so on and so forth. In this post I want to focus on a variety of Reformed Baptists currently making waves in both the Reformed and Baptist worlds. This current iteration of Baptists has certain emerging spokespersons, namely people like: Matthew Barrett, Craig Carter, and others within this tribal ilk. It is as if these folk have just realized that Christianity has a history, and that part of that history entails the theological developments present in mediaeval and Post Reformed orthodox theology. It’s as if they just heard of Thomas Aquinas, and that upon this first hearing they have felt something like Luther’s lightning strike along the dark and dreary road of the normally rationalistic Baptisticism they have been coddled in, heretofore, all their live long days. As such, they seem intent on recovering Thomas Aquinas, and Thomist theology in general, in ways that even standing on the rooftops and shouting with glee isn’t enough to atone for their past oversight of the Angelic doctor’s theological speculations. And so they do podcasts, tweet tweets ad nauseum, produce podcasts, publish blog posts, and author books declaring the beauty and bounty they believe they have found in the sacrosanctity, the purist of orthodoxies, in the theology of Thomas Aquinas, and its various iterations within the broad category of the contrivances of Thomism. In their glee, in their newfound faith, so to speak, it’s as if for them the whole classical tradition (so-called) is one big smashed-potato that is of apiece. In this glee they press all of classical theology, whether it be Athanasius’ patristic theology, or Thomas Aquinas’ (Aristotelian) mediaeval theology, together in a way that the unbeknownst reader would think that the continuum of Christian thought just is one big consensus fidelium, one big consensus patrum, one big Great Tradition that Baptists, among all Christians, need to avail themselves of; particularly against the modern theology they have been ensnared by for so long.

But as those who have read here for any amount of time, we know that Thomism is not the same as Athanasianism, or more broadly, Nicene theology. I have detailed in hundreds of posts over the decades how classical theology isn’t without significant nuance, both at formal and material levels. And yet Barrett, Carter et al. simply want to lead people to believe that the classical tradition just is of an organic piece that consummates in something like Post Reformed orthodox theology (minus the Federal theology and Covenantal baptism therein). They are creating centers to promote this facile understanding of things; facile in the sense that their thesis simply does not work in regard to the lack of nuance they think the history of Christian ideas from.

The most troubling aspect of all of this is that ideas have consequences, no matter what their historical aperture. And yet these fellas gloss right past these things. They often do so by setting up their respective recovery of Thomas over against the ā€œdemonic theologyā€ of the moderns (they include Karl Barth and Thomas Torrance in this frame). And yet those they are leading into the harrowed waters of the ostensibly deep drink of Thomist theology have seemingly never stopped to consider whether or not what they are being tapped with has any necessary correlation to God’s Self-revelation in Jesus Christ, as attested to in Holy Scripture. They are simply told (by people like Barrett and Carter) that in fact Thomas and his heritage in the Reformed expression just is biblically fragrant and correlative. These students are told that Thomas and his speculative theological tradition, particularly as that takes on Protestant dress, is the most proximate interpretive grammar for the biblical teaching that a Christian can live and think from. They are simply told that thinking God as actus purus (ā€˜pure being’) just is the only way an orthodox Christian can think God; and then all the subsequent theologizing that follows as that implicates things like anthropology, soteriology, so on and so forth. And yet I’m here to tell these same people that this approach, this repristinational effort by folks like Barrett and Carter (et al.) is misguided (even if done from good intentions). Who we think God to be will determine everything else following; get God wrong, and you get everything else wrong.

I will be writing on this more, although I feel like I’ve already done that online since 2005, without ceasing. But we now have a new crop, new energy in this arena; they need a counter voice online: send me Lord! There are others who I didn’t name who are central to this movement. You’ll see their names in the tweets I’m sharing as infographics as Barrett has shared them on his Twitter account (which he blocked me from seeing). People like Carl Trueman, Michael Horton, David Sytsma, Adonis Vidu et al. My intention, as I call these things out, isn’t to troll, but to alert folks to the fact that there is a better way forward to be genuinely and historically evangelical. That there is a kerygmatic, an evangelical, a Christologically concentrated, a theistically personalist and thus truly trinitarian grammatical way to be a Christian that does not simply repose in the repristination of a so-called classical theological universe conditioned by Thomas Aquinas, and his mentor, Aristotle.

On Barth’s and Paul’s Purported ‘Christian Universalism’ in Sachkritik

Karl Barth is often said to be a proponent of Christian universalism. The logic is that Barth’s doctrine of election, whether he likes it or not, commits him to affirming some form of a Christian universalism (i.e., the notion that all people of all time will eventually freely submit to the reality that Jesus Christ is Lord; even if that finally only happens in hell itself). But Barth adamantly rejected this supposed necessity of his theological trajectory. As Douglas Campbell writes:

Barth has often been accused of universalism, but he steadfastly denied it (see the final paragraph of CD III/2), and we owe it to his intelligence and subtlety to at least examine his claims in this relation. One of his key points was a denial of any overriding of human freedom by God, although he defines that topic very carefully. This stance certainly excludes crude forms of universalism (and I myself endorse this exclusion). Another key point was his recognition of God’s freedom, which certainly seems fair as well. God acts freely, and so we cannot really circumscribe God’s activity in advance. Barth did point toward the legitimacy of hope, and even prayer, for universal salvation. However, he stopped short of predicting it. (Part of Barth’s repudiation is explicable in terms of his rejection of a form of universalism understood in a ā€œhardā€ Origenist fashion, as seen also in Maximus the Confessor, which overrules divine agency. These theologians claim that salvation of all must follow on the successful theosis of all—a Pelagianizing account of universalism that Barth was quite right to reject.)

Having said this. [sic] I am not sure that his development of the notion of the ultimate victory of God at length in CD IV/3 did not lead him to a theological location where the denial of universalism would in fact lead to the denial of key christological warrants, even after taking human freedom fully into account. And his christological account of election can also be invoked here in relation to God’s freedom (II/2). God’s freedom is not freedom per se but his free love towards us, which is definitively enacted in the Son prior to the foundation of the world. So perhaps some Sachkritik in relation to Barth himself is in order at this moment.[1]

Before we engage further with the implications that Campbell draws out for us in regard to Barth’s rejection (or not) of Christian universalism, let us address a methodological matter. Maybe the reader has never heard of Sachkritik. In order to offer some insight into this (which has greater development here), I. Howard Marshall writes this on what Sachkritik entails:

I shall continue to refer to the method by this German name, but it will be helpful to note that the possible English equivalents for it include ā€˜content criticism’, ā€˜theological criticism’, ā€˜critical interpretation’, ā€˜material criticism’ and ā€˜critical study of the content’.7

It will not surprise you in the least that among the heroes of our tale, or, if you prefer it, the villains of the piece, we must mention R. Bultmann. Here is a comment on hisĀ Theology of the New TestamentĀ by Markus Barth, who asks how a conscientious exegete can develop a systematic exposition of Paul’s theology that contradicts part of the source material:

[He can do so] only when he feels himself called toĀ SachkritikĀ on Paul, ā€˜just as Luther used it, for example, on the Epistle of James’. The victims of Bultmann’sĀ SachkritikĀ include some Pauline statements on the Holy Spirit, the resurrection, the second Adam, original sin, knowledge. Naturally the hostile crumbs swept to one side byĀ SachkritikĀ include the statements about creation, predestination and the incarnation of Jesus Christ which Bultmann has demythologized. In any case Bultmann is convinced that he is putting the ā€˜real intention’ of Paul over against the actual words of the text.… When Bultmann attributes the use of juridical, mythological, cosmological, mystical and idealistic concepts to a ā€˜superstitious understanding of God, the world and mankind’, he expresses as clearly and simply as possible the criteria for hisĀ Sachkritik.

Now we must be clear as to what is going on here. It is not quite the same as the attitude expressed in the words: ā€˜I want to be free to disagree with Paul.’ In that wish there is expressed a contrast between what Paul said and what I think, and if we disagree, so much the worse for Paul. That is a question of Paul’s authority over against my own authority. We’ll come back to that in a moment. Rather what has been expressed is a contrast between one part of Scripture and another which stands in contradiction to it, or between what a writer actually says and what he really means. According to Tom Wright, we find an example of this in the procedure adopted by proponents of universalism.

The proponents of universalism admit very readily that their doctrine conflicts with much biblical teaching. What they are attempting, however, isĀ Sachkritik, the criticism (and rejection) of one part of Scripture on the basis of another.

That is to say, critics observe or search for places where there are doctrinal contradictions in Scripture and then have to decide which passage they are to follow in preference to the other.[2]

Essentially, as Marshall clarifies further, what the above reduces to is the following: ā€œ. . . The result of such analysis is inevitably to force a judgment as to which texts are to be taken as expressing the real intention of a writer or the main thrust of the scripture and how they are to be interpreted. . . .ā€[3]

All of the aforementioned to note that Sachkritik is a modern (German) development that took place in post-Enlightenment biblical studies. The quest, as it were, is for the exegete to properly identify what the total intention of the biblical author is in light of their whole corpus rather than simply focusing on various texts here and there. That is, there might be something in the thought of the author of Holy Scripture, that is in their respective teaching, that seems to contradict their broader teaching when their whole corpus is taken into account. It is the total teaching that then serves as determinative of how the exegete ought to understand the particular (potentially contradictory relative to the total), and place that into the total teaching of said biblical author. The criteria for this endeavor takes us too far afield to develop further for our purposes. Suffice it to say: What Campbell is referring to in Barth, and the Apostle Paul prior, is how we ought to understand these authors from within the ambit of their total teaching on a particular theological topic; in our current case that involves a doctrine of Christian universalism.

With the above noted let’s return to the question at hand: should Barth be understood to finally be teaching a doctrine of Christian universalism when his total oeuvre is considered? Campbell, seems to think that just maybe we ought to conclude that if Sachkritik is applied to the total theology of Barth, as developed his Church Dogmatics, that Barth’s theology must necessitate in the affirmation of a Christian universalism. But Campbell doesn’t finally take the step of absolutizing this for Barth, even by way of engaging in a Sachkritik.

Prior to Campbell’s thinking on Barth, he has been engaging in an exegesis on Paul’s theology with particular reference to his thinking on eschatological doctrina, such as annihilationism and Christian universalism. Campbell shows that in one sense Paul seems to teach a doctrine of annihilationism; at least as the inner-logic of his teaching is teased out. But when Paul is used to interpret Paul, as Campbell suggests ought to be an interpretive employment we ought to take seriously, as Campbell argues, what we end up with is a Paul who sounds a lot like Barth’s own ending; again, according to Campbell. For Campbell, the Apostle Paul’s total teaching ends up having a christological universalism latent to it. In other words, according to Campbell, Paul’s total theology, even when recognizing that he also has an apparent teaching of ā€˜annihilation’ present (when it comes to the final judgment), reduces to the notion that all of creation (cf. Rom. 8 etc.) will finally be redeemed. And yet, as with Barth, because of various other passages and teachings in Paul, Paul doesn’t end up with a decisive or absolute Christian universalism. Campbell sees this in a corollary with Barth’s own conclusions; that is, Campbell, I would suggest, sees Barth’s teaching and thinking on these things, largely reflective of the Apostle Paul’s own inner-theological teachings on a doctrine of last and final things in regard to salvation. But this is a sachkritik reading of the Apostle (if not of Barth as well). Some might sense in sachkritik an antecedent in what Luther called an analogy of faith, or what we might call an analogy of Scripture. That is, the deployment of the clearer teachings of Scripture as the means by which we interpret the less clear. I think it would be right to see this, in principle, as an antecedent to sachkritik even if sachkritik finally took shape under different (modern) pressures.

Conclusion

After all of the above is considered what do I think? I agree mostly with Campbell. I don’t think Barth ought to be understood as endorsing a dogmatic Christian universalism; at most I think we see a very hopeful and prayerful Christian universalism in Barth’s theology. I also tend to agree with Campbell on Paul’s teaching in this regard; even if we didn’t have time to directly deal with his development on that, per se. I would always fall back to the Barth of CD III (as Campbell reads him), and emphasize a doctrine of Divine freedom as determinative of all things; including the notion that it could be a possibility that it would be in keeping with God’s purview (and character) to have made a way for people, all people, post-mortem, even while in the gruel of hell, to finally, by the Spirit, bow the knee and confess Jesus as Lord. But I don’t take this dogmatically, and my hopefulness in this is only informed by the fact that God is God and I am not; as such He could surprise us this way, and not be found to have contradicted His Word to us now and then. But this is up to God, and as far as we know now, a doctrine of dogmatic Christian universalism imposes a determination upon God that God Himself has not committed Himself to, per se. If we are going to be ā€˜good’ sachkritiks the total canonical teaching of Holy Scripture teaches a final judgment of the (spiritually) dead that appears to be a final and unending judgment of the type that the devil and his minions will experience. Jesus taught this, and so I think it is best to temper any notion of a purported dogmatic Christian universalism by the reality that God is God, and thus the only free agent who finally determines these things. But as it stands now, based on the teaching of Scripture, unless of course we are going to step in and read Scripture from a canon within the canon, a dogmatic Christian universalism is not on the table. That is, unless the exegete has already decided a priori that the total teaching of Scripture does in fact presuppose a dogmatic Christian universalism, and then use that presupposition as regulative for how they arrive at their respective exegetical conclusions on these matters. I don’t think that is warranted; again, because of God’s freedom over against ours as His subjects.

 

[1] Douglas A. Campbell, Pauline Dogmatics: The Triumph of God’s Love (Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2020), 440.

[2] I. Howard Marshall, ā€œAn Evangelical Approach to Theological Criticism,ā€ Themelios (Vol. 13:3): na. Ā 

[3] Ibid.

All of Humanity in Christ

The incarnation (homoousion) implies that all of humanity is re-created in the image of God, insofar that Christ is the second and greater Adam. In other words, the incarnation works from the reality that Jesus is the image of God (Col. 1:15) for us, and as such as He assumes our humanity as His own, He re-creates and exalts humanity in His humanity for us; just as His humanity is archetypal humanity, such that what it means to be genuinely human before God, is who Jesus is for us in His vicarious humanity. This presents us with what might be termed a Christological objectivism. That is, that whether or not humanity consciously affirms the ground of their [human] being, whether or not they affirm that they are images of the image of God in Christ, they are indeed such. This implies that God is for the whole world in His free election for us in Jesus Christ. This says, that God’s life for the world is determinative, whether we acknowledge it or not. So, in this frame, the Christian Gospel is necessarily an inclusive reality, insofar that the basis for what it means to be human before God is the same for the Christian and the non-Christian alike. The difference between the former and the latter is that the former repents and acknowledges that this is the case, whereas the latter rebels and fights against their very being, their very salvation in Jesus Christ. This rebellion, of course, results in untold chaos and destruction as we see evinced all around us. But what remains the case is that all of humanity is held and funded by God’s grace to be for us rather than against us. The first Adam, whose fallen humanity yet remains in the remnants of these fallen bodies of ours, remains nonetheless. The Christian, because they actively have the Holy Spirit present in their lives, have the resurrection power of Christ, to resist the desires of the first Adam; those who remain in rebellion to their life in Christ (non-Christians), remain enslaved to the first Adam’s desires and affections, driven by his typologically fallen spirit of self-incurved delight and self-actualization. But the objective reality remains: all of humanity, insofar as Christ is that for us, is held in God’s image, God’s humanity for the world in Jesus Christ.

The Sermon on the Mount as the Postscript of the Covenant of Grace

Covenant theology in confessional Reformational theology is its hermeneutical key. Karl Barth, a Reformed theologian, doesn’t stray from this key, but as is typical with Barth he reformulates Covenant (or Federal) theology such that Jesus Christ becomes the key, the regulative ground and condition of the covenant itself. Indeed, rather than operating with two aspects of the covenant—i.e., the covenant of works, covenant of grace—as classical Covenantal theology does, Barth retextualizes this framework by reducing the two covenants into one; viz. the covenant of grace. For Barth, the covenant of grace is the supralapsarian (before/above creation)/fall) basis, the inner reality of creation’s concrete expression, as God in pre-temporal reality pre-destined Himself to be for and with us in His election of our fallen humanity for Himself; and thus, as corollary, in this election we also, as humans, in Christ’s elect humanity, come to experience the exalted status of what it means to be human before God in the resurrection of Jesus Christ. This is God’s covenant of grace, His free election to be God with us, rather than against us; it is this election that has consequences not just for us, but as we have been called to be priests of creation from Christ’s priesthood, it has consequences for all of creation’s redemption and re-creation (cf. Rom. 8:18ff). But it is this framework that Barth reifies, this covenantal framework, and it becomes one conditioned not by a naked heilsgeschichte (ā€˜salvation-history’) shaped by the abstract decretum abosolutum (absolute decree of predestination), but by the concrete reality of God’s inner-triune life that has freely been given for the world in Christ.

It is the aforementioned framing that Barth takes up in discussion on the Sermon on the Mount vis-Ć -vis the covenant of grace. There is a biblical specificity to the way Barth attempts to explicate theological reality, and the following is an example of that. It isn’t polemical, but a constructive way to think about the implications of the Incarnation and how that impacts the way we think all things biblical. If nothing else this ought to illustrate how Christological Interpretation of Scripture (CIS) looks, particularly as that gets fleshed out in a foundational way in regard to the way that Barth sees the promise/fulfillment motif in Jesus Christ as the grundaxiom of biblical and Christian reality. He writes:

The Sermon on the Mount, too, is primarily and decisively a notification, a proclamation, a description and a programme. Its imperatives, too, have primarily and decisively the character of indicating a position and laying a foundation. The position indicated and the foundation laid are the kingdom, Jesus, the new man. And these are not three things, but one and the same. The kingdom is the new man in Jesus. Jesus Himself is the kingdom of the new humanity. The new Adam is Jesus the Bringer and Herald of the kingdom. Proclaiming this threefold unity, the Sermon on the Mount proclaims the consummation of the covenant of grace, and therefore the telos of the Law and the Ten Commandments. It proclaims the position which in the Ten Commandments was determined and promised to Israel, but only determined and promised and not given. The Sermon on the Mount, like the New Testament as a whole, defines and describes it as something now given. If the Ten Commandments state where man may and should stand before and with God, the Sermon on the Mount declares that he has been really placed there by God’s own deed. If the Ten Commandments are a preface, the Sermon on the Mount is in a sense a postscript. The history of the covenant of grace has reached its goal and end. It does not continue in the history of the Church at whose beginning there stands the declarations of the Sermon on the Mount. For time does not continue after the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. It can only move away from this its centre—moving to its already appointed end. For its end is determined by the fact that it has been given this centre. The Church is the community of God in this time which moves away from this centre to its appointed and already invisible end. The covenant of grace as such has no further history in this time. The only question now is whether the Church will live or not live in the fulness of life already granted to it, in recognition or non-recognition, gratitude or ingratitude, in face of what God has finally and once for all accomplished for man, in the freedom which God has decisively accorded to man, or the bondage from which he has been finally and conclusively released, and which has now become a complete anachronism. The Sermon on the Mount, as a postscript, as a document of the completed covenant of grace and its concluded history, defines and describes the freedom which is given to the people of God in its new form as the Church, and which is to be proclaimed by the Church to the whole world.[1]

For Barth (and I’d suggest for the Apostle Paul) Christ is the new creation (cf. II Cor. 5:17). This isn’t an abstract notion we have been called simply to affirm, but a concrete reality to be understood and lived from. This is what we see Barth explicating in his exegesis of the Sermon on the Mount. Here Barth is engaging in a canonical exegesis, he is using the Pauline motif of new creation, within a Christological frame, to interpret the dominical teaching of Jesus deposited in the Sermon on the Mount. When Barth refers to the Sermon on the Mount as a postscript, he, in context is referring to the promise of the protoevangelium (Gen. 3:15). He is thinking in terms of his teaching on new time, in corollary with Christ in His humanity as the new creation. It is God’s choice, prior to the foundation of the world, to be for and with us in Christ, as the inner reality of all reality, that is finally consummated for Barth in the death, burial, resurrection and ascension of Jesus Christ. As such insofar that creation has Christ as its telos (purpose), as its res, all time has been brought to its end; that is in the sense that it has finally come into its glorified intention. For Barth, eternity and time are not in competition, but in fact the former, in God’s election in Christ, is the latter’s basis. It is this basis, the new time founded in the new creation of Christ’s resurrection and ascension that God’s community of people, the Church, finds their reality. As such we no longer are scrapping out an existence under the old strictures, only looking forward to the kingdom of God coming, instead we are now living in the reality that the kingdom has indeed already come, and yet will finally come in consummate form. But it is this consummate form that Barth wants us to press into and live from as if it is already the reality; this is the new time of the kingdom, and the center of all reality, as such. The Sermon on the Mount is the postscript insofar that its reality, as a summary of all the Law and Prophets as now fulfilled in Jesus Christ, is indeed indicating the finality of Kingdom Come! Ā 

[1] Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics II/2 §36-39 [688] The Doctrine of God: Study Edition (London: T&T Clark, 2009), 175.

Abortion as the Logic of the Pagan’s Power

When approaching a discussion on abortion, even in so-called conservative Christian circles, at least traditionally, you will often hear people arguing that abortion shouldn’t become a single-voter issue. In other words, these people like to trick themselves into thinking that who we vote for, based on their policies, is bigger than the doctrine and practice of abortion. These people like to lull themselves into the idea that they are more nuanced, that they have greater sophistication, that they understand the complexity of life better than those who would argue that, indeed, abortion, all by itself is worthy of reducing a political vote to that issue alone.

Catholic author, and theologian, Andrew Willard Jones in his book Two Cities: A History of Christian Politics points out just how insidious and pervasive the logic of abortion actually is. He points up how antiChrist, and how present this logic has been since the beginning, in every culture and society since the fall of humanity. His treatment puts the idea of abortion being just one issue among other considerations, when it comes to political appointments, so on and so forth, on ice. He writes:

Abortion is not, therefore, one issue among other issues. It is the most fundamental postmodern issue. As we saw earlier in this book, the gods of the ancient world demanded that their servants sacrifice their children to their power. This was the ā€œabominationā€ that the Lord refused to Israel in the Old Testament and to which Israel was continuously tempted. In the Bible, this is not a random picture of evil meant merely to shock us. It is, rather, based on an anthropological insight: the willingness to kill your child and the consequent construction of a system of child murder is the only path to pure power, pure sovereignty. Pure power demands that keeping helpless people alive be a voluntary display of power, a whim of the strong; otherwise, if power is ever revealed to be for the weak, the social hierarchy is inverted, and the whole system is exposed for the lie that it is. This is why, as we saw earlier in this book, nearly all pagan societies condone the killing of babies. This is how human power can speak order into chaos without opening itself to what is beyond it, to the transcendent. Nowhere, the, is the West’s final slide into post-Christian paganism clearer than in the abortion regime, which kills around sixty million children every year, roughly 20 percent of all babies. As the pope wrote: ā€œWhere God is denied and people live as though he did not exist, or his commandments are not taken into account, the dignity of the human person and the inviolability of human life also end up being rejected or compromised.ā€[1]

Abortion is the ultimate stand of the pagan kingdom, the kingdom of darkness. As Jones rightly develops, believing that it is you, and you alone who holds the power of life and death, the life and death of the most vulnerable in your hands, provides someone with a sense of power that in fact God alone possesses. To contradict this power, as the Gospel does, is to contradict the very being, the very esse of the homo incurvatus in se (human incurved upon itself). This is where the den of darkness and demons have pitched their tents, and is why when challenged it would seem as if the hornets’ nest of kingdom done has been poked.

At least for the Christian, the Christian whose life is conditioned by the reality of the Gospel, abortion is the single issue of all time that will motivate them, like nothing else, to fight with all the spiritual weaponry at their disposal. Abortion is antiChrist precisely because it represents the exact opposite of the Kingdom of the Son of His love which is defined by the least of these; by the most vulnerable among us; by the children, particularly children yet in their mother’s wombs. And the Christian, as Jones understands, recognizes that there is, indeed, a logic that underwrites the impietas (unholy doctrine) of abortion. The logic itself funds the culture, or as Isaiah identifies it, the covenant with death, that the profane culture has decidedly made by virtue of their fallen antiChrist natures. The only response to this logic comes from the logic of the Kingdom of Christ, it is a logic that elevates the weak of society, while at the same time putting down the strong; that is, by what counts as such things in the broader society’s purview.

Abortion is not a single-voter issue when it comes to political activity. It is the issue for precisely the reasons that Jones helpfully identifies for us. Made God have mercy on us all if in fact we don’t in some way bear witness to the fact that God is God, and we are not. And may this activism, this proclamationism result in bringing life to the world rather than death; for as Christians we have chosen life, or we are no Christians at all.

[1] Andrew Willard Jones, The Two Cities: A History of Christian Politics (Steubenville, Ohio: Emmaus Road Publishing, 2021), 336-37.

On a Genuinely Christian Theology of History and Apocalyptic Theology

Samuel Adams in his book The Reality of God and Historical Method: Apocalyptic Theology in Conversation with N. T. Wright offers many important insights in regard to ā€˜apocalyptic theology’ in contradistinction to NT Wright’s ā€˜worldview’ or what I would call ā€˜naturalist’ approach to biblical studies and theological reflection. One aspect I want to highlight from Adams’ book (his published PhD dissertation written at the University of St. Andrews) is his point about a theology history (we might also classify this as a theological ontology and its implications for historiographic method and conclusion). What he writes, as the reader will see, doesn’t just contradict Wright’s naturalist approach, but it implicates any historiographical work that appeals to a natural theology in regard to its own historiographical methodology. For my money this implicates the current work being done in the name of ā€˜theology of retrieval’ by many evangelical Reformed types. I have made this same critique in years past, in regard to the reality of the prior assumptions that so-called ecclesial historians, such as Richard Muller, bring to their work of re-constructing the Protestant history of the 16th and 17th centuries as that developed in what has come to be called Post Reformed orthodoxy. What the reader will see, as Adams so concisely details, is how we all bring informing theological matrices to the task of re-constructing the ā€œrecordedā€ history. As such it is best to be upfront about this, and as a matter of first order importance, be transparent about what particular ā€˜theology of history’ we are bringing to our historiographical reconstruction. This way we won’t lead our readers to think that we are simply presenting them with the ā€˜naked facts’ of history. We won’t allow our readers to confuse, potentially, our theological frameworks for the so-called ā€˜reconstructed’ history, as if the history we are culling comes with its own inherent sacrosanct imprimatur. Adams writes:

From the outset the issue has been the reality of God and the theoretical implications of that reality for the work of historiography—historiography, that is, in the service of theology. A theology of historiography, as I have argued, is not divorced from a theology of history because historiography must assume a narrative, a story, in order to make sense of historical ā€œdata.ā€ Bare facts do not exist outside of the complex webs of human interpretation. The stories that make up history are never metaphysically or theologically neutral. Therefore, it is methodologically dishonest not to begin with a theology of history, even if that theology is informed to a large extent by historical events. There is no way out of this circularity, nor should there be. But there is a way into this circularity. This is what is referred to (perhaps ambiguously) as the ā€œapocalyptic event,ā€ the breaking-in from outside that both sets anew the agenda for the story and also maintains at all times a transcendent corrective/critique. This somewhat abstract and theoretical way of speaking of the theology of history is only a conceptualization of the concrete reality of the incarnation and the relationship of the Father’s action in sending the Son, becoming Jesus of Nazareth, living, bearing witness to the kingdom, dying, rising and ascending. This is the reality of God that is given in history but cannot be contained by any one prior telling of history, except to say that the final meaning of all history is revealed in the life, death and resurrection of this same Jesus of Nazareth.[1]

Robert Dale Dawson, as he writes on a doctrine of resurrection in theology of Karl Barth, offers an insight that dovetails nicely with Adams’ point about the analogy of the incarnation as the basis for developing a genuinely Christian theology of history:

A large number of analyses come up short by dwelling upon the historical question, often falsely construing Barth’s inversion of the order of the historical enterprise and the resurrection of Jesus as an aspect of his historical skepticism. For Barth the resurrection of Jesus is not a datum of the sort to be analyzed and understood, by other data, by means of historical critical science. While a real event within the nexus of space and time the resurrection is also the event of the creation of new time and space. Such an event can only be described as an act of God; that is an otherwise impossible event. The event of the resurrection of Jesus is that of the creation of the conditions of the possibility for all other events, and as such it cannot be accounted for in terms considered appropriate for all other events. This is not the expression of an historical skeptic, but of one who is convinced of the primordiality of the resurrection as the singular history-making, yet history-delimiting, act of God.[2]

Rather than naively assuming that human beings just do have the natural or latent capacity to read history in brute investigative ways, as Adams and Dawson both underscore, respectively, for the Christian telling there is no such natural historiographical capaciousness available. This, in particular, as Adams develops, implicates the type of methodology that NT Wright deploys in his biblical studies mode vis-Ć -vis Pauline theology; more generally his point, along with Dawson’s, particularly as that relates to the development of Church history, implicates any historiographical work, insofar that that work has prior commitments (those of the historian) informing the re-constructional work of said historian.

The aforementioned tells us at least two things: 1) all interpreters, whether historians or not, bring a priori ideological and ideational commitments to their interpretive work, 2) as Christian interpreters we necessarily work from the new creation of God’s historical life for the world in Jesus Christ. The latter point ought to inflect the prior insofar that Christians, even historian ones, principially, always are bearing witness to the reality of Jesus Christ. If the historian, or interpreter in general, claims to be presupposition-less when approaching their task as a historian, as Muller, and other retrievers of historical theology often claim, or imply, the discerning Christian ought to challenge this with the fact both Adams and Dawson point up, respectively. That is, nobody is a tabula rasa, we are all shaped by some ideation; if we claim to not be, it is this this mode itself, of being naĆÆve to our ideational forces, that becomes the ideological construct that ends up informing our respective tellings of theological history. As such, one consequence, as already mentioned, ends up being that the historian’s prior theological framework becomes conflated with the way they re-construct the history. And when this reconstruction is grounded in a natural theology, as if the Church or Biblical historian is ā€˜doing theology’ in their historical reconstruction, the historian’s natural theology becomes the very history they are ostensibly reconstructing. But it is this very point that ought to be up for consideration prior to the narrativizing of Holy Scripture’s history, if not the history of the Church and its respective interpretations and dogmatizing.

The final reduction: every interpreter is befuddled by their own ideational sitz im leben. We ought to admit this, and then recognize that God has provided the world with a new history to think ā€œhistoryā€ from (we could think geschichte and historie at this point) within. That is, the Christian ought to recognize that the ground and grammar of all interpretation, for the Christian, has been provided for and delimited by the God’s new creation as actualized in the resurrection/ascension of Jesus Christ. This is the ā€œideologicalā€ frame the Christian exegete, whether that be of the Bible, Church history, Ethics so on and so forth has been provided with, and is provided with afresh anew, apocalyptically, by the irruptive reality of the Theanthropos, Jesus Christ, who is the reality, the telos and goal, from beginning to end, of all of creation; and thus, all of world history and its developments.

[1] Samuel V. Adams, The Reality of God and Historical Method: Apocalyptic Theology in Conversation with N. T. Wright (Downers Grove, Illinois: IVP Academic, 2015), 271.

[2] Robert Dale Dawson, The Resurrection in Karl Barth (UK/USA: Ashgate Publishing Company, 2007), 13.

‘If We Confess’

If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. –I John 1.9

Without this passage as a paraclete I could not survive the Christian existence. It has been my soul-verse for as long as I can remember. I am a sinner, I confess, and I need the Savior on a moment-by-moment basis. Sometimes the intensity of my need rises when I find myself in the surd-moment of a heated sin. More than being irrational, sin is really the human incurved upon itself in all its asserted self-possessive inglorious ugliness. There is nothing pure or righteous that dwells in the inner-self, it remains uncured and unholy. I am just as much of a sinner today as I was when I was conceived in my mother’s womb. I have the same propensities for a variety of sins today as I did when I first came to Christ. There is a reason why the Apostle said to ā€˜reckon ourselves dead to sin’ and to ā€˜present our bodies [continuously] as instruments of righteousness unto Christ.’ The reason is that Jesus never came to repair anything, He came to put it to death; and that is exactly what He did in His body for us. And yet this points up the fact that we remain in these fallen bodies of death. We surely are mired in bodies of sin, even while at the same time finding our true being in the risen humanity of Jesus Christ. This is the power we have to actualistically reckon ourselves dead unto sin, to mortify our wanton desires in and through the vivification of the glorified blood of Jesus Christ. So, the good news is that there is hope, even while we our in the bloody battle of sin all our days.

Like you I sin, daily. I have my pet sins, some ā€œbiggerā€ others ā€œsmaller,ā€ but sin plagues me nonetheless. Jesus knows this, in fact through John He tells us that if we claim we have no sin we are liars. It is better to be upfront about this, and yet at the same time not to wallow in the fact that we are lot of miserable yet redeemed sinners. We stand in the victory and power of the risen Christ. Even while death pulsates through the mortal members of our bodies, the life of Christ shines ever brighter, ever stronger than the death of sin. And so, we look to the ec-static reality of our lives in Jesus Christ; we look to the Holy Spirit to continuously surround us with the liberty of Christ, with the holiness of our High Priest, even as He sits at the Right Hand of the Father always living to make intercession for those who will inherit eternal life.

The reduction remains that no matter what our sins might be, no matter how heinous they might seem to us, we can rest assured that they were even worse before God. And yet because of who He is, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, He freely chose in Christ to assume sin for us that we might become the righteousness of God in Him. It is here that I flee to, I find refuge in this hope, knowing that I am dead and hidden in Christ, waiting anxiously for the revealing of the sons of God, only then to be relieved of this body of death. And yet the faith of Christ sustains me even in the midst of this great wait, I have hope knowing that I have the power of Immanuel’s veins running through mine, and in this I can say no to sin from the Yes and Amen of God for me in Jesus Christ. This is where I repose, sinner, yet justified as I am. ā€˜If anyone be in Christ, they are new creation, the old things have passed away, all things have become new.’

The Personal Kingdom versus the Propositional kingdom: The Spiritual in the Words

For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal but mighty in God for pulling down strongholds, casting down arguments and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God, bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ, … -II Corinthians 10:3-5

Beware lest anyone cheat you through philosophy and empty deceit, according to the tradition of men, according to the basic principles of the world, and not according to Christ. -Colossians 2:8

But I make known to you, brethren, that the gospel which was preached by me is not according to man. For I neither received it from man, nor was I taught it, but it came through the revelation of Jesus Christ. -Galatians 1:11-12

Each of the above passages all refer to knowledge of God, respectively. In this vignette of a post, I simply want to register something that I don’t think many a Christian, and definitely not many a nonChristian dwells upon very frequently; viz. that ideas have spiritual backgrounding, they are not merely naked symbols awaiting a purely human input. The way people ostensibly treat ideas, and the words that are used to signify those ideas, you’d think that they are merely feasting on a smorgasbord of utilitarian veggie trays and charcutier bars. But as Scripture rightly points out ideas have concrete consequences; and beyond that, they have antecedent sources, spiritual sources even. This is what I want to alert people to once again: we are in a battle, a spiritual battle, a battle that has been won by the triumphing roar of the Lion of the tribe of Judah; nevertheless, until the last enemy, which is death, is placed under the second Adam’s foot, we inhabit a land pulsated by serpentine ideas given in forked and various expressions all across the landscapes of people’s veritable affections and intellects.

The aforementioned realities are why when I do theology, when I write blog posts, when I walk outside and say hi to my neighbors, I do so fully aware that there is nothing innocent about anything in this world. We are in a raging battle, and the most purportedly dispassionate ideas, the most arcane academic balderdash, the most Stoic of expressions hanging off the philosopher’s beret are chalked full with spiritual ideation. Either an idea correlates with and bears witness to the reality of God in Christ (who is the ground and reality of everything), or it has come to be, instead, from the primordial goo of the satan’s green and stagnate breath of deceit and mischief.

Christian reality finds its genesis in God’s Self-revelation in Jesus Christ; it is a revealed knowledge enlivened by the breath of God as He hovers over the bosom of the Father for us. It seems, far too often, the theologian, let alone the Sunday Christians, simply presume that we have been naturally outfitted to just know God. As such the procedure comes to be one where the would-be knower of God looks out into the world, with a white slate, simply waiting to discover whatever they can of God by reflecting on His attributes as vestiges hanging in the trees and clouds. But the result of this procedure ends up producing a categorical godness, and a superstructure of ideas, as its consequents, that ends up only having corollary with the would-be knowers’ fertile imagination. It is these discoveries that then become the bases by which purportedly ā€˜orthodox’ ideas about God, and thus all subsequent theologizing, are developed. The point, either way, is that ideas have a spiritual substructure that most don’t seem to recognize. They simply presume that people are free in themselves to develop ideas from the nudity of their own unimpressed minds.

Rather than getting too deep in the theological weeds, as I noted earlier, I simply wanted to register the fact that ideas are necessarily spiritual. And that said ideas either stem from the Kingdom of the Son of His love, or they do so from the kingdom of darkness. We are involved in a battle, a spiritual battle, at least according to Holy Scripture. We don’t ever take a break from this battle, especially when we are in the business of supposedly developing theological ideas. There is no dispassion or disaffectivity available to the thinker, we are all embroiled in this great flambĆ© of spiritual wane and tribulation. Even so, we live in a world, and from a revelation that has triumphed over the world of dark spiritual realities and ideas, by the personal reality of God in Christ who isn’t simply an idea, but who is a person. Indeed, the kingdom of darkness is disanimated by ā€˜naked ideas,’ but God’s Kingdom in Christ is invigorated by the personal weight of God’s flesh in the humanity of Jesus Christ. The kingdom of darkness floats and flutters upon the winds of the satan’s propositions, indeed, this was how he tricked himself into Eve’s and Adam’s Edenic world, he propositioned them. God in Christ reverses the proposition by His person, not a proposition. He doesn’t need our permission to, He doesn’t need to trick us with a slithery word, but He simply is and does, and invites us to His banqueting table of ā€˜righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit.’

For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. -Ephesians 6:12

Still Here: Forthcoming Post on the Problem of Human and Divine Competition

I am still here, never fear! Just a lot going on in life, and so my blogging has slacked a bit. I have more in the pipeline, and you can maybe expect a whole slew of them in the days to come. I just wanted to assuage any anxiety you might have had about my lack of posting. I wanted to give you a good night of sleep, once more, by knowing that, indeed I am here, and I always will be (haha). One post I’m thinking about writing is on teasing out the implications of the vicarious humanity of Christ, and how a proper understanding of that doctrine militates against any dualist accounts that end up leading humanity to be in competition with God and vice versa. I was reminded of this problem once again as I heard a recent sermon. This problem is pervasive. It is pervasive because I don’t think most pastors, in particular, not to mention theologians (by way of training), are even aware that this is a problem. Augustine has become so ubiquitous in the tradition of the Church, all the way down, particularly in its Western iterations, of course, that his type of soteriological dualism simply just becomes the teaching of Holy Scripture in all its categorical sectors. This is a problem for a variety of reasons, not least of which is how it impinges and shapes someone’s Christian and daily spirituality. I want to write a post that seeks to bring some awareness to this problem, and then some course correction provided by the resources I commonly traffic in as an Athanasian Reformed theologian. Be on the lookout!