John Mark Hicks

In my previous post I summarized the conclusions of Keith Stanglin in his recent book Arminius on the Assurance of Salvation: The Context, Roots, and Shape of the Leiden Debate, 1603-1609. In this post, I want to offer an extended theological comment on the nature of assurance for Calvinists and Arminians. I will indulge this for one post before I move on to more personal concerns next week with the anniversary of my first wife’s death on the horizon (April 30). Your comments–even disagreements (surely there will be none, however 🙂 )–are welcome.

My basic opinion is that in practice Calvinists and Arminians experience assurance by the same means. At one level they both claim the same objective grounds–the promise, love, mercy and grace of God (that is, that Christ died for us) and they claim the same basic subjective evidences–faith, fruit of sanctification, religious experience, etc (that is, the work of the Spirit in the believer).  The epistemology of present assurance (how do I know I am saved?) is answered with the same kinds of words, expressions and evidences. At root, both Calvinists and Arminians are assured by grace through faith.

It seems to me that this is an arena in which Calvinists and Arminians can acknowledge common ground. It is in the theory that they differ–and theories that often operate at inferential levels rather than with the plain statements of Scripture. I would rather we speak of assurance through faith than drawing out inferences to “make sense” of that assurance in the light of our theories. But, alas, our historical situation does not permit–so it seems–a unity at the pragmatic level of faith but we feel the incessant need to debate the theories as well. Nevertheless, this is where I tend to concentrate my thought and practice.

But–to speak of theories :-)–my further opinion is that Arminians have a better theological ground for assurance than Calvinists. Or, perhaps to put it another way, Calvinists–in my opinion–obscure their assurance with a speculative doctrine of election that entails a postulate of “temporary faith” (Jean Calvin, Institutes 3.2.11; comment on Matthew 13:20 in his Harmony of the Evangelists). This notion salvages the Reformed doctrine of election from shipwreck on the rocks of those who lose their faith (a reality that we know from both Scripture and experience). It seems necessary to Calvinists–given the doctrine of election–to postulate that those who lose their faith never had authentic faith in the first place.  And, in fact, there are some people who apparently never really did have faith (cf. 1 John 2), but that does not mean that everyone who loses faith never had authentic faith unless we are protecting, as in Reformed theology, a particular understanding of the doctrine of election or seeking to harmonize that reality with a particular interpretation of a text.

That is fine as far as a logical move to seek harmony among various texts of Scripture. But the problem becomes how is one sure whether they have “temporary faith” or have “authentic faith”? Those who have temporary faith believe they have authentic faith–they can’t see a difference. For example, I remember a conversation with a friend at Westminster about a mutual friend who had lost their faith. My friend thought it was an example of “temporary faith” (or temporary loss that would later appear again in perseverance) but it puzzled me that our mutual friend when he believed really thought he did believe. By all appearances and, according to his own confession (unless he was dishonest), he fully embraced the gospel in heart and soul.

How can those who have authentic faith know their faith is authentic when those who have temporary faith think they have authentic faith? It is in this context that the doctrine of election is controlling how we think about assurance and faith. It introduces a reason for doubt in the minds of believers. And this is not a doubt about the subjective evidences of their faith, but a theological doubt  rooted in a theological theory that undercuts the objective ground of assurance itself. Because, if they have “temporary faith,” then God does not really love them, that is, he has not chosen (elected) them.

It seems to me better ground to say that God loves all, seeks the salvation of all, and that no one should doubt that Christ died for them and that God desires their salvation. Faith is trusting the love of God in Christ and knowing, by God’s own declaration, that Christ died for all and that God has salvific intent for me. I don’t have to know whether I am one of the elect to trust the word of God that Christ died for me, but rather through faith in God’s work for me in Christ I know that I am one of the elect. And I don’t have to wonder whether I am one of those who will eventually “go out” because I never really was one of the faithful. Instead, through faith I know I am one for whom Christ died and there is no necessity to entertain a theological doubt about “temporary faith.”

Now I believe Calvinists can mitigate this idea of “temporary faith” with Calvin’s own notion that the assurance of salvation is the assurance of election. But this places the mode of assurance in the same frame as Arminians themselves. We know our election through our present faith in Christ and not the reverse. Consequently, it seems to me that however one views election it does not have a telling effect on one’s assurance unless one places the doubt of “temporary faith” in the mind of the believer in order to protect a doctrine of election.

Assurance is faith in Christ; united with Christ we are assured our of salvation and we are united to him through faith. Here Calvinist and Arminian can stand on common ground with common faith: we are both saved by grace through faith. Even though I think Arminianism holds a better theory of assurance than Calvinism, I readily acknowledge that both access assurance by the same means: trust in the work of God for us and bearing the fruit of the Spirit’s work in our lives.

But I am an Arminian–as much as I can use categories of myself (in my opinion one who says they are neither or they transcend the discussion doesn’t really understand Arminianism or Calvinism–but that is just my opinion 🙂 ). Consequently, according to my “theory,” I believe my present faith assures me because I know Christ died for me whereas the present faith of Calvinists logically wonders whether their experience of faith is actually temporary faith which contains no assurance that Christ died for them.  So, in that sense, I know that Christ died for me and through present faith I experience his love, but Calvinists are potentially uncertain whether Christ died for them because ultimately they do not know whether their faith is temporary or not until it perseveres to the end. Only in the perseverance of faith are Calvinists assured. And only through present faith and its perseverance are Arminians assured.  The two stand, pragmatically, on the same ground–we are saved by grace through faith.

Given some recent comments, I thought I would share my review of a recent book that will soon appear in Restoration Quarterly. The author, Keith Stanglin, is a friend and former student (indeed, he was my Graduate Assistant for several years) at Harding University Graduate School of Religion. He now teaches at Harding University in Searcy, AR, after receiving his Ph.D. in historical theology at Calvin Theological Seminary (2006). Those interested in the Calvinism/Arminianism discussion might be interested to see his syllabus on that topic which has a significant number of helpful reading assignments and bibliography.

Keith D. Stanglin. Arminius on the Assurance of Salvation: The Context, Roots, and Shape of the Leiden Debate, 1603-1609. Brill’s Series in Church History, Volume 27. Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2007. 285 pages.  Price? Don’t ask.  🙂

2009 is the 400th anniversary of the death of Jacobus Arminius. While many have identified themselves as “Arminian” since his death, few have pursued scholarly and technical examinations of Arminius’ context and theology. Keith Stanglin’s thorough and substantive analysis is a welcome reprieve from cursory and superficial conversations about “Arminianism.” Indeed, this is the first monograph wholly focused on Arminius’ soteriology with special reference to its epistemology (how do I know I am saved?).

Based on his dissertation at Calvin Theological Seminary, Stanglin—who is Assistant Professor of Historical Theology at Harding University—makes several significant contributions to the study of Arminius. He contextualizes Arminius’ theology in the framework of Reformed theology and the debates that consumed his Leiden professorship from 1603-1609. This contextualization includes a comparison with the soteriology of Arminius’ contemporaries (e.g., William Perkins, Franciscus Gomarus). Further, he utilizes Arminius’ full Latin corpus, including unpublished Leiden disputations, as the basis for his analysis. This enables Stanglin to interpret Arminius’ soteriology in the specific context of his Leiden controversies. This has a significant impact on how one reads and understands this oft misunderstood Dutch theologian.

Stanglin argues that Arminius, despite his detractors, proposed a doctrine of assurance that was suited to the pastoral needs of believers. Arminius’ understanding of election is conceived in such a way that it preserves the love of God as the fundamental ground of the believer’s assurance. On this basis he rejected both unconditional election and irresistible grace, which are the primary soteriological differences between Arminius and Gomarus. Since faith is a “resistible gift, then defection from faith also may happen by free choice” (p. 141). According to Stanglin, apostasy was possible in Arminius’ soteriology.

Given the possibility of apostasy, what does assurance mean to Arminius? This is the major burden of the book and Stanglin rigorously explores Arminius’ “epistemology of salvation” (pp. 143-235). Assurance, for Arminius, is fiducia (a trusting tranquility that rests in God’s love for us) that avoids the twin pitfalls of desperatio (despair) and securitas (from sine cura, meaning, without care or careless; a kind of presumption). Arminius’ pastoral experience in Amsterdam from 1588-1603 alerted him to these dangers. He witnessed some despair as they suffered from the plague but also saw others arrogantly presume their election. While his contemporaries agreed with his concern about disperatio, Arminius “was a lonely voice in the struggle against securitas” (p. 152).

Stanglin demonstrates that securitas was usually understood as a negative quality arising from pride (e.g., Augustine and Luther). While Calvin used securitas and fiducia interchangeably (loosening the securitas from its historic moorings), he hinged securitas on the attitude of “godly fear” and distinguished between “simple security” and “carnal security” (pp. 163-4). Stanglin argues that early Reformed Orthodoxy (e.g., Gomarus) equated fiducia and securitas while Arminius wanted to preserve the historic caution against securitas as the fruit of pride. This did not undermine certainty (certitudo) but it did exclude presumption (praesumptio). Unfortunately, for Arminius, his assault on presumption took place at the moment when securitas had become a “new normal” for the Reformed understanding of assurance (p. 175). While characterizing securitas negatively, Arminius did affirm that fiducia yields assurance and certainty.

Interestingly, it is precisely because Arminius wants to avoid despair and presumption that he opposes unconditional election. On the one hand, Reformed soteriology may produce despair because ultimately authentic faith is practically indistinguishable from “temporary” faith (p. 183) and the despair this creates is “focused” on the believers’ inability to discern whether they are included in “God’s immutable decree” (p. 187). On the other hand, Reformed soteriology may produce an unhealthy security that leads to presumption due to a lack of godly fear about salvation. Unconditional election provides no functional deliverance from these two hazards.

Precisely because he rejects unconditional election Arminius affirms that fides yields fiducia which yields certitudo. The evidence or testimony that yields this conclusion is both objective—which is primary—and subjective. The subjective includes faith, testimony of the Spirit, good works, and the struggle between the flesh and the Spirit, which does not differ from his Reformed contemporaries (p. 204). The difference comes in the objective. For the Reformed the objective is God’s eternal decree. For Arminius it is the love of God.

Significantly, Stanglin argues, “Arminus views God’s love of humanity as something more than mere means (uti) towards the goal of his own glory (which is Reformed supralapsarianism, JMH), but as approaching enjoyment (frui), the beatitude of the creature as the end that God enjoys” (p. 220). In other words, the goal of God’s love is not his own glory as if God is egocentric but rather enjoying the communion of his creation. This is the fundamental ground of assurance—all believers know they are beloved. This belovedness, which Reformed believers cannot know absolutely since they cannot see into the divine decree, yields a present certainty without despair or presumption.

Stanglin has effectively and persuasively argued that assurance was not only significant for Arminius but it was his “principal” soteriological concern (p. 243). It was because the Reformed doctrine of predestination could not provide a “healthy doctrine of assurance” that Arminius dissented from the Reformed Orthodoxy of his colleagues. Assurance, then, was “both the point of departure and the conclusive goal of his system” (p. 244).

This is a significant book. It is one of only a few critical and substantial treatments of Arminius available. We can only hope that it will encourage others to follow Stanglin’s lead.

What disciple of Jesus would ever want to hinder children from coming to Jesus? I doubt if anyone would want to do that though the disciples, in the circumstance described in the Synoptic Gospels, did. Perhaps they were protecting a fatigued Jesus from the onslaught of the chaos of playful children….maybe that is what they thought. Who really knows? When Jesus rebuked them they must have cowered in their own embarrassment. I know I would have.

“Now they were bringing even infants to him that he might touch them. And when the disciples saw it, they rebuked them. But Jesus called them to him, saying, “Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.” Luke 18:15-17 (cf. Mark 10:13-15; Matthew 19:13-14)

In line with my previous post, I want to suggest that something profoundly relevant to the contemporary church is uttered in this saying of Jesus. He is not talking about baptizing children [his ministry did not baptize children] nor is it simply a pithy morality saying about childlike humility. Rather, it says something about the status of children in the faith community.

Jesus invites children to come to him because (gar) the kingdom of God belongs to them.

I think we need to stew on that sentence for a while and let it sink deep into our theological souls. What does it mean to say that the kingdom of God belongs to children? What does it mean to invite children to experience Jesus because (not “so that”!) the kingdom of God belongs to them?

It seems to me that Jesus recognizes that children are the sons and daughters of God, that is, they belong to the kingdom of God. Jesus touches them, holds them and shares his love with them because children live and breathe the air of the kingdom of God.

Unfortunately many use this text to theologize and moralize about how adults should not hinder their children’s path to Jesus. While there is certainly nothing wrong about that point–and the disciples did hinder children–I don’t think this is the theological substance of the text itself. The reason adults should not hinder children is because children already belong to the kingdom of God and adults need to become like children themselves in order to participate in God’s kingdom.

The theological point is that children are kingdom people too! They do not stand outside the kingdom of God as if they are “heathens” seeking admittance or “sinners” needing conversion. To the contrary, they already belong to the kingdom. Jesus embraces them, loves them and enjoys them.

I think this speaks volumes regarding a “theology of children” within the contemporary church, especially among churches that only practice adult baptism. Just like these parents, we lead our children to Jesus so that they fall in love with him just as he loves (and has already loved) them. But our children do not come to Jesus as outsiders. Our children are not “potential disciples” or “conversion prospects,” but rather they belong to the kingdom. I regard them as “maturing disciples” (see Greg Taylor and I discuss this in Down in the River to Pray, pp. 210-215). They are not “non-members of church,” but members of the kingdom.

Consequently, we invite our children to participate in the faith community as members of the kingdom. We lead them to Jesus in age appropriate ways, and we lead them to the table where they, too, may eat with Jesus. We do not treat them as “non-members,” but as disciples in training for adulthood, as catechumens who already belong to the kingdom of God.

Ultimately, we lead them to Jesus so that they may follow him and become his disciple as they own their own faith. When they are ready to commit to the way of the cross–to take up their own cross and follow Jesus–then they will follow him into the water that they might also take up his mission as their own. Following Jesus into the water they own their own faith and affirm their kingdom allegiance.

I recently posted a brief statement on “Children at the Table” in which I suggested that the practice of sharing table communion with our children might be a good idea.

One question this raises, among others, is the relationship of children to the kingdom of God. For our paedo-baptist friends, it is obvious. Children are baptized into the community of faith based on the promise of God to the children of the covenant and through the faith of their parents. For those who do not practice infant baptism the question is rather different. Both traditions, however, struggle with the problem of “accountability,” that is, when does a child own their faith as their own (thus “confirmation” or other rituals in paedo-baptist traditions).

Within Churches of Christ we have historically held that children are “safe” (without sin) until they reach the “age of accountability” at which time they own their sin and become sinners (guilty). At that point, as I generally understood the theology, they are not only unsafe but also outside the grace of God. They do not belong to the kingdom. Consequently, children (ranging from ages 9-13 generally) are instructed about baptism, their sin, and their need for Jesus. As a result, Churches of Christ usually reap a baptismal harvest from among their children between the ages of 9-13 (I myself was 11 when I was baptized by my father).

This approach assumes that children move from “safe” to “lost” and then are “saved” when they are baptized. The tricky point, however, is how to identify the exact moment, time and circumstance when they move from “safe” to “lost.” Existentially this is an important question. If one’s child dies at the age of ten unbaptized is the child “safe” or “lost”? What if the child is thirteen or fifteen? It is a harsh question but a living one.

I would hope that we might all have the grace and mercy to say the  deceased child now experiences the embrace of the loving Father covered in the mercy of Jesus. But on what theological or biblical grounds do we say that  if we believe that children within the church move from “safe” to “lost” at some point which we cannot identify.

When I baptized my daughter at the age of eleven, I can say with absolute certainty that if she had died the night before I would have “preached her into heaven” (as the saying goes). Existentially, in my mind at least, my daughter was not baptized to move her from “lost” to “saved.”

So what do we do with this theological impasse? I suppose one could argue that my love for my daughter blinded me to her “lostness.” I suppose one could suggest that she was not ready for baptism if she was not “lost” and perhaps she was baptized too early. But I question the theological underpinnings of the notion that our children move from “safe” to “lost” to “saved” (once baptized).

My daughter always believed in Jesus. There was never a time when she did not believe. She always believed according to her capacity to believe. Her faith developed through various levels of faith and discipleship but her faith was present throughout. From her first singings of “Jesus loves me” to her confession of faith at her baptism–faith was a constant in her life.

What do I do with that? I believe that through faith she was not merely “safe” but “saved,” that is, living in communion and relationship with God as her faith developed and her discipleship matured. As our children grow up in faith and live within a faith community, they enjoy a relationship with God through family, community and their own childlike faith.

Their growth in faith is marked throughout their family and communal life. Some faith communities have rituals to mark the various moments of faith, even something as simple as reciting the Lord’s prayer or as dramatic as a “graduation into the Youth Group.” The most dramatic, biblical and initiatory ritual is baptism.

When our children who have been nurtured in faith and have expressed their faith in a multitude of ways come to baptism, I do not believe they come as “lost” people. Rather, they come as children of the church, children of the faith community. They come already belonging to the kingdom of God–they are not “lost” nor “safe” but already in communion with God.

They come to baptism to declare their faith. They come to publically embrace their discipleship. They come to become full participants in the life of the faith community through owning their own faith and committing themselves to following Jesus to the cross. They follow Jesus into the water in order to follow him to the cross.

Baptism for our children is a climatic act of faith. It dramatically initiates them into a life of discipleship.

I think the baptism of Jesus is a model for this. Jesus did not come to his baptism as one who was “lost.” He came to his baptism to declare his discipleship–a follower of the Father who intended to do the will of the Father, even to cross. His baptism began his public ministry, his public life as a disciple. But he had been a disciple long before his baptism. He had been nurtured in faith by Joseph and Mary, he had been taught at the synagogue, he had celebrated Israel’s redemption at the Passover, etc.  In effect, he had matured as a disciple through his first thirty years and owned his mission at his baptism in obedience to the Father.

Our children do something similar. They have been nurtured by family and community. They have walked a path of faith and discipleship throughout their years. And when they come to their baptism, they do not come as “lost” little people. They come as believers–people who have lived in relationship with God since their birth–ready to own their discipleship, declare their allegiance to the Father, and commit to the way of the cross as followers of Jesus.

That view of baptism is a bit higher than just moving from “lost” to “saved.” To convince a child they have done bad things and they need forgiveness is much simpler task than to wait for them to own their discipleship and commit to the way of the cross.

Perhaps if we thought that our children lived in communion with God through faith we would not rush them to the water as soon as they become aware of some distinctions about good and evil. Perhaps if we thought our children were saved by God’s grace through faith we could patiently wait for the moment when they are fourteen or sixteen or even eighteen for them to declare their discipleship and take up the mission of Jesus.

I am not suggesting a particular age for baptism. I don’t know what that should be; everyone must decide for themselves. But what I am suggesting is that to pressure our children into baptism in order to soothe our own worries and fears about their salvation is rooted in a misguided theology.

While I do not know if David Lipscomb would agree with what I have written above, I do know that he believed that a child was sufficiently prepared for baptism if she believed that she was acting in obedience to the Father whether she believed she had sin or not. In conclusion, I offer a few selections from David Lipscomb which I think share the principle I applied to this discussion. I offer them for not only historical perspective, but for careful reflection as well.

It is not an accident that those whose hearts and lives were most deeply steeped in sin, like the slayers of Jesus Christ and Saul seeking the death of all Christians, were told how to be freed from sin; while nothing of this is said to Timothy, trained and nurtured in the religion of the Bible to understand and obey its teachings, or Cornelius and Nicodemus, seeking to know the will of God, or Jesus Christ, willing to die to honor his Father’s will. Each was taught as his condition required, and God was well pleased with obedience of all classes. [1]

The spirit in which one should come to Christ is that of a little child, knowing but little, but trusting in God, and glad in his ignorance and helplessness to follow God and do what God desires him to do, and because God desires it. “Ye are my friends, if ye do the things I command you.” A better motive to do than because God commanded it never moved a man. [2]

When one reared in the training and instruction of the Lord like Timothy desires to enter Christ, his case is divine inspiration to guide him. The little girl’s wish to be baptized because Jesus wanted her to be, is as much the direction of the Spirit of God as for the murderers of the Lord to “be baptized into the remission of sins.” Those desirous to learn and do the will of God while children cannot be oppressed with a heavy weight of guilt, but find direction into the body of Christ, where all evils are banished and all blessings abound. Were one as faithful as the Son of God to be found, it would only be necessary that he be baptized to fulfill the will of God. [3]

[1] David Lipscomb, “What Must a Man Know to Fit Him to Enter Christ?” Gospel Advocate 55 (27 November 1913) 1156.

[2] David Lipscomb, “Query Department,” Gospel Advocate 52 (6 October 1910) 1109.

[3] David Lipscomb, “A Summary. No. 2,” Gospel Advocate 56 (1 January 1914) 11.

Patternism does not entail division as long as it does not subvert grace and it graciously treats another believer with mercy. Rather, it is the attitudes, agendas and acidity of the people involved that generate division. Patternism itself is not to blame and neither is “restorationism’s” search for a pattern. When people are treated with gracious humility, patternism can be a fruitful discussion rather than an occasion of division. This is what Alexander Campbell intended from the beginning (though Campbell himself was not always the most humble of types 🙂 ).

Ecclesiological Perfectionism Rejected.

Alexander Campbell certainly contended for an “ancient order” within the New Testament which he believed should be restored. Indeed, his good Presbyterian upbringing predisposed him to the idea of “order” and he continued to promote the notion of “church order” throughout his life (see his 1835 Millennial Harbinger Extra on Church Order).

However, as I pointed out in an earlier post, Campbell never intended his “ancient order” to function as the marks of a true church with the result that every other church which did not measure up to the “order” for which he contended was apostate. He explicitly denied that his conception of the “ancient order” should be used as a test of fellowship. He did, however, hope that it would be a platform for unity and strongly argued his case on the points at issue in hopes that others would adopt the “ancient order.”

So, Why the Divide?

That is a complicated and multi-faceted question. My interest in this post is very specific while I recognize the larger sociological, hermeneutical, sectional and theological differences that were involved in the division between Churches of Christ and the Disciples of Christ symbolically recognized in 1906 by the United States religious census.

I want to narrow my concern to David Lipscomb in particular. Reading through Lipscomb’s editorials in the 20th century, I was fascinated that Lipscomb consistently refers to the weaknesses and frailities of human beings in their seeking God. He applies this at many levels, but one application is ecclesiological.

Lipscomb was willing to forebear with congregation after congregation that disagreed with him on the missionary society and instrumental music. He spent most of his life in forebearance. He was one of the last to adopt a separatistic stance toward the Disciples of Christ (Christian Church). It was, in many ways, a thirty-plus year trek. He recognized it by 1897, declared it so in 1907, and lamented it for the rest of his life.

At one level, the division was necessary–according to Lipscomb–because some prominent Disciples embraced higher criticism, doubts about the deity of Jesus, etc. (e.g., the seeds and fruits of modernism). This was significant as it evidenced, in Lipscomb’s mind, a different spirit and attitude toward Scripture itself. It was not merely a different understanding of how to apply Scripture but more importantly a denial of Scripture as the word of God.

At another level, the division was necessary–according to Lipscomb–because the “innovations” disrupted the harmony of the church as a whole, split many congregations, and evidenced a lack of love for the minority, usually the weak and powerless, within a congregation. In other words, his problem with the innovators was more basic than the innovation itself. He could bear with the innovation in love–and could even preach in congregations that used it–but he could not bear with the unloving actions of the innovators toward the powerless. The strife they created and how they treated the powerless were more fatal than the innovation itself because it evidenced a spirit of arrogance, power and willfulness.

The situation of the Woodland Street Christian Church is illustrative. Lipscomb and E. G. Sewell planted this congregation and Lipscomb himself paid over $1000 for the bricking of the building in 1876. Sewell preached regularly for the church till 1882 and continued as one of its elders until 1890. By 1887 it was the center of Society activity in Nashville–organizing, convening, governing and hosting the State society convention and then the General Convention from 1889-1892. Lipscomb, Sewell, McQuiddy and others all experienced such boldness as a personal affront. Sometime before 1890 the instrument was introduced into the congregation. By 1899 Lispcomb had named Woodland Street as the most digressive of the churches in Tennessee. In October 1890, Sewell and the McQuiddys pulled out of Woodland and established the Tenth Street church in Nashville. (Some of this story is told in Chris Cotten’s paper delivered at the Disciples of Christ Historical Society in 2008.)

The hurt, strife and utter disbelief that Christians could treat each other in such a way fueled Lipscomb’s loss of patience with the Disciples of Christ (Christian Church). Ultimately, the emotional baggage was as significant as the theological, and the emotional hurt validated the perception that the Disciples of Christ (considered as a whole) acted in selfish, presumptive and unloving ways. Lipscomb had no patience for an arrogant, unloving spirit that abused the powerless. This is the real problem among the Disciples of Christ as he perceived it. As mistakes and failures of interpetation, innovations could be tolerated. But when they became the source of division and revealed the arrogance of the powerful (or majority), then the innovations were symptoms of a deeper problem.

Unlike Leroy Garrett who says that Lipscomb changed his mind about whether innovations should divide (The Stone-Campbell Movement, p. 401), I think it is better to say that Lipscomb came to believe that innovations were used to divide churches and it is this arrogant and power-seeking spirit that generated Lipscomb’s new attidue in the 1890s.

Grace in Sanctification.

Lipscomb had great patience and grace for the weak and struggling as long as they displayed an earnest desire to serve God and be obedient in everything they knew and could. He would even bear with the innovators as long as they were not divisive. One cannot read his editorials toward the close of his life without getting a deep sense of his love for the weak, his patience with their frailities, and his genuine desire to bear with them as they matured and grew in Christ.

Lipscomb often drew extended lessons from Jesus’ relationship with his disciples–both before and after his ministry among them. In the quotation offered below he focused on the experience of Jesus with his disciples at the Last Supper. Hear his call for mercy, patience and humility. It is, in my opinion, a stirring call for mutual forebearance–in this case between Rebaptists and disciples, and between Baptists and disciples (Lipscomb, “Jesus Christ and the Rebaptists,” Gospel Advocate 54 [11 January 1912] 45, 49).

This was a heroic band of worshipers to introduce the Lord’s Supper and the salvation of the world, was it not, especially when the leading one, Peter, is instructed, when he is convertred, to strengthen the rest…This shows the forebearance of Jesus with the sinner in his weakness and infirmity and his disposition to bear with and help the weak and needy. How many Christians now would be willing to bear with and partake of the Supper with a band they believed would be so offended (led into sin) that in a few hours all would forsake Jesus and deny they knew him? Christians ought to study the life and teachings of Jesus and from these learn meekness and forbearance with the tempted and tried. We ought to be meek and gentle as Jesus as. We ought to be longsuffering with the frail and erring and should strive to exercise forebearance and helpfulness toward those who go wrong. Jesus is our Savior and our Redeemer and seeks to help and save the lost.

The sin of Judas was from a lack of moral principle, a true regard for truth and justice. From this sin there seemed to be no recovery….The other disciples were honest and sincere, but failed through fear and the weakness of humanity. They recovered as soon as the threatening danger passed. But the human weakness remained, and Jesus dealt with the decision, but kindness and gentleness, of the Son of God and Savior of men. He drew the declaration of Peter’s love and devotion from him three times, as often as he had denied him, ending with the admonition to teach his brethren when he was converted…..

The example is not very flattering to humanity, but one that very strongly commends to us the love and condescension of God. It invites us to love and humility, condescension and helpfulness, to the poverty and needs of humanity. Let us look with kindness and pity on human mistakes and infirmities and bless and help as we need help and blessing. The forbearing, humble, helpful spirit that leads us to help the weak, forbear with the ignorant, and lend an uplifting and helping hand to every child of mortality is as much a part, and a vital part, of the religion of Jesus as the belief of any proposition or truth connected with that religion. Man is much more intolerant and ready to condemn and repel the children of men from the helps and privileges of gospel truth than God is. Let one take the mental and moral condition of those who partook of the first Supper under the direction of Jesus and compare them with the intelligence and standing of those they reject and repel, and he must feel the inconsistency. Our mission and work is to bury and hide shortcoming and imperfections in faith and life, and, while teaching the will of God as he gave it, to encourage the weakest and most feeble to walk in his ways as he has given it and as far as they understand it. The work of Jesus in the ordination of the Supper is often as much violated and set as naught as the rights of those who believe baptism is for the remission of sins. Let us cherish and walk in the spirit of Christ. Both Baptists and many disciples are sinful in their exclusiveness in religion.

Where Are We Today?

To use the terminology in vogue at Graceconversation.com, “progressives” and “conservatives” need a spirit of love, humility and selflessness in our dialogue at the congregational, institutional and virtual levels.

It seems to me that if we apply the theological notion of “grace in sanctification” toward each other, it would enable us to treat each other out of a disposition of weakness and humility. When we recognize that we are all engaged in the process of sanctification, that we are all imperfect, and that none of us has arrived theologically or ethically, then we can dialogue in a spirit of discovery and mutual understanding rather than condemnation and alienation. When we approach each other within the framework of sanctification, we may further the dialogue by hearing each other in order to learn rather than critique, to understand rather than condemn, and to appreciate rather than ridicule. When we season our words with grace rather than sarcasm we open the door to mutual understanding and mutual appreciation.

It very well may be that God is more concerned about how we dialogue and treat each other than he is with exactly where we differ. I do think God is concerned about both, but how we relate to others is what will image or fall short of God’s own relating to us with mercy and grace. Jesus’ patience with his own imperfect disciples and his anger toward the arrogant should give us all pause in our discussions. Whom are we more like? Humble disciples or arrogant religionists?

“Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.” Matthew 5:7

“Mercy triumphs over judgment.” James 2:13b

“To the merciful you show yourself merciful.” Psalm 18:25

If the life and ministry of Jesus is our pattern, then we all fall woefully short.

Consequently, whether it is conforming our character to the image of Jesus or embodying the ministry of Jesus through the church, we all–individuals and congregations–need divine mercy since we all fall woefully short of the image of God in Jesus.

While I am a patternist, I am not a perfectionist in either ethics or ecclesiology. Not all patternists are perfectionists (or legalists). Patternism per se neither entails legalism nor perfectionism. If it does, then everyone who believes that we are called to conform to the image (pattern) of Jesus is either a legalist or a perfectionist or both.

Legalism arises when the quantity, level and progress of sanctifiction is made a condition of communion with God.  Libertinism (or antinomianism) appears when sanctification is so disconnected from faith (seeking and trusting God) that whether we seek sanctification or not is inconsequential.

Ecclesiological perfectionism is when the understanding and practice of a set of ecclesiological patterns are made conditions of communion with God such that without perfect or precise compliance to those patterns (however they are defined) there is no hope or promise of salvation. 

In contrast I would suggest that perfect or precise compliance to ecclesiological patternism–like ethical conformation to the pattern of the life of Jesus–is not a condition of communion. Rather it is a matter of sanctification as we are conformed more closely to the image of Christ, both corporately and individually. To more closely conform to an ecclesiological pattern (however that is concieved or defined) is a matter of communal sanctification. It is a process, not an event. As a process, sanctification will never be perfect or 100%.

At the same time such conformation is something that faith seeks because we want to be like Jesus. When we refuse to conform to what we know that is rebellion. Insubmissive (rebellious) faith is not faith since faith involves trusting in Jesus and submissively pursuing God’s will in our life however imperfectly we may do that.

Ecclesiological patternism subverts grace when perfect obedience to a set of patterns for the church becomes a test of fellowship or a condition of communion with God. Ecclesiological patternism then becomes ecclesiological perfectionism. I define “perfect obedience” as precisely meeting a set of criteria for ecclesiological practice which distinguish between the “faithful” and the “unfaithful” (thus “apostate” which amounts to a “different religion” [see Jay Guin’s assessment of Greg Tidwell’s use of this language]).  In this context our faithfulness, rather than the faithfulness of Jesus, counts as our righteousness and salvation; it demands perfect obedience in order to measure up to the standard–we keep the pattern or there is no hope! This kind of ecclesiological patternism stresses that if we are guilty in one point, we are guilty of the whole. If a congregation is missing one mark of a true church, then it is a false church. This is ecclesiological perfectionism.

So, for example, if the ecclesiological criteria include observing the Lord’s Supper every Sunday and only on Sunday, then “perfect obedience” would mean that only those who eat every Sunday and only on Sunday are faithful and everyone else is unfaithful (apostate).

Or, for example, if the ecclesiological criteria include singing a cappella, then “perfect obedience” would mean that only those who sang a cappella are faithful and everyone else is unfaithful (apostate).

Or, for example, if the ecclesiological criteria included the absence of the female voice except in singing, then “perfect obedience” would mean only those assemblies where women were silent are faithful and everyone else is unfaithful (apostate).

I would suggest–without debating the merits of the examples above as parts of a biblical pattern–that ecclesiological patternism belongs in the category of communal sanctification. It is a process of growth, maturation and progressive conformation to the image of God in Christ.  Consequently, it is not so much about who is faithful and unfaithful (that is, who complied with the precise conditions of the pattern and who did not) but about orientation, direction and the submissive nature of their faith and heart. Faithfulness and unfaithfulness is more about faith itself than the accumulaton of specific acts of obedience or failure.

Moreover, I would suggest that there are more important questions in ecclesiological patternism than the frequency of the Lord’s Supper or the nature of music in the public assembly.  If ecclesiological patternism means engaging a process of conformation to the image of Christ, then here are few more important dimensions of the “pattern” than frequency and music style. Such as:

• relationship with the poor (the pursuit of mercy)
• the communal use of funds for ministry
• advocacy for the oppressed, marginalized and excluded (the pursuit of justice)
• leadership models within the community of faith
• relationship with enemies
• opposition to suffocating traditionalism that hinders the kingdom of God
• outreach to the sheep without a shepherd or the lost

What I know is that I fall woefully short of these Christological patterns in my own life and in my community. I cannot soothe my imperfections by noting how well or precisely I comply with other dimensions of the pattern (e.g., Lord’s Supper and singing). However, by grace through faith, God is working with and in me to transform me into Christ’s image.  I am in process and I am not perfect.  I am neither perfectly obedient nor do I obey perfectly.  On the contrary, I submit my will to the process of God’s sanctifying work through faith and God redeems me by his grace through faith.

Patternism subverts the grace of God when it makes conformation to the pattern (however defined) as a condition of communion rather than as the fruit of God’s sanctifying work among his people through faith. Grace through faith is the means by which we commune with God and our conformation to the pattern of God in Jesus through the power of God’s Spirit is the means by which we become more and more like him. We are saved by grace through faith and works (sanctification) is the fruit of that communion with God.

I do not offer this post as definitive or indubitable.  Rather, it is only my thinking at this moment. It is part of my own sanctification as I reflect on the situation of fellowship within Churches of Christ.  I have hopes that the “Grace Conversation” website may yet be productive of mutual understanding. My next post will include a few historical reflections of where we are now as opposed to where we were 100 years ago in relation to ecclesiological perfectionism.

[I first offered some of this kind of soteriological reflection in my 1992 “Grace, Works and Assurance: A Theological Framework.]

Towards the end of 1909 David Lipscomb fell seriously ill and was unable to write for the Gospel Advocate. When he returned to writing in 1910 he had much to say as he approached his 80th year of life.

What is Most Important To Him.  In the first issue of 1910, Lipscomb summarized his primary interest in continuing his writing.  Here we get a glimpse of this man’s heart. Notice that for Lipscomb God’s actions are for the “race and world”–salvation belongs to humanity but also to creation!

But to God as the Creator, Preserver, Sympathizer with man, one soul is much. Else God had never clothed himself in human form and Jesus had never died. Christ’s mission, death, and sorrow for man were God in sympathy with and suffering for his creature, proclaiming his goodness, mercy, and love to a lost and sorrowful world. And all he aks of us now to repay his love and condescension to this race and world in ruin is to trust and follow him and show we appreciate his wisdom and love by trusting and obeying him. We must let him lead us….We have tried to understand the true relationship of man to God and have sought to so serve God and to teach others so to do. Our remaining days on earth cannot be many; our writings for the future must be few; our desire is that they shall be with increasing zeal in the way we have traveled, that God may bless us and we may lead others in the way of salvation.[1]

On Civil Government. When Lipscomb received an affirmation for his book entitled Civil Government, he offered the following comment on the book itself and the importance of the question it addresses. In the light of the last election and April 15th’s “tea parties” perhaps it is an opportune moment to hear Uncle Dave once again.

Were I to rewrite the book, I would change some of the arguments. I would modify the positions on some scriptures. A few points I would explain a little differently, and some passages that were left out altogether I would introduce. I would do this, not because I have abated my faith in the truth of the position one particle, but to make it conform in all respects to the truth. As a sample, one of the scriptures condemning Christians looking to the political government to settle difficulties and troubles is 1 Cor. 6:1-1; yet, as I remember, this passage is not noticed in the book. There is an application of the allusions to some of the political kingdoms of this world that I think not correct. But I have not abated or lost confidence in the least in the truthfulness of the position. I do not believe the church can ever be clean and holy with its members commingling in the political affairs of the world. It is probably that I have done wrong in failing to press the truth as I should have done. The difficulty of holding men up to the position, the readiness of those who professed to believe the truthfulness of the position to fly into an excitement and politically fury and do bitter denunciation because some election or some political movement did not suit them, all has had a tendency to discourage me, and I ceased to press it. I would rejoice to see brethren take hold of the subject and press it as a great issue on which the welfare of the church and of Christians depend. Christians will never be loyal and true to God while engaging in political strifes. [2]

The Making of Sectarians. He claims the disciples of Christ have tended to either join the sects (and thus become sectarian or one denomination among others as in the Disciples of Christ or Christian Church) or to exalt a particular text of Scripture (and thus create a new sect as in the case of the Rebaptists). In light of the latter, Lipscomb calls for preaching the whole of Scripture rather than focusing on a few texts (“textuary” preaching) which ultimately amounts to proof-texting. The kind of “text” preaching he dismisses here is not preaching from Scripture’s narrative (e.g., teaching a chapter of Scripture and plowing through a book) but focusing on a text to make a polemical point without hearing the flow of Scripture itself. Preaching and teaching is about conveying what the Bible says rather than “skinning the sects” (a favorite description of militant preaching in the Texas Tradition).

The preachers and teachers claim to know the gospel, but the knowledge is very much confined to the people to ‘be baptized for the remission of sins.’ Many at the protracted meeting are moved to this obedience; when this was done, they claimed they were saved, attended meetings no more, and ,of course, drifted into sin and rebellion against God—became practical infidels….There was and is ground for the charge of Mr. Ditzler that a “Campbellite’s Bible could be told, because it is worn and soiled at the second chapter of Acts and a few other passages, but not soiled in the other places”….When a man exalts one passage above of scripture above any other, he is in danger of become sectarian. The war against sectarians itself become sectarian. Man is weak and frail and liable to become a partisan or sectarian. Two parties of sects or sectarians spring up among those making war on sects or parties in religion. One, as the original fervor for the discovered truth cooled, fell in with the parties and sought to become one with the popular religious parties—a party among parties—and so to affiliate with the religious parties of the day and country. The other party magnified the truth discovered above all other truths and became a sect or party in behalf of this truth above all other parties and sects. The man who exalts and magnifies ‘for remission’ above other inducements and incentives to obedience laid down in the Scriptures makes himself a sectarian against or in opposition to sectarians. Into one of these two parties or sects the disciples have strong tendencies to go. But all sects or parties in religion are sinful. They exist in the providence of Gold to test and prove the faith of Christians and to show the fidelity of Christians to God and his word. …The textuary preaching is liable to lead into one-sided ideas of God’s will and should be carefully guarded….Our teaching from texts leads to the exaltation of our own theories and the ignoring of other scriptures. [3]

The Nashville Bible school has been in existence nineteen years. During these years the teachers have never taught a lesson showing what or how to preach, nor to defend a system or theory of doctrine. The come to the Bible in the spirit of learners, to learn and know what the Bible teaches….The majority of young preachers—and old ones, too—had rather be fixed up with a sermon or a series of sermons ‘to skin the sects’ than to be taught the great truths of the Bible. I favor no compromise of truth, but ‘skinning’ the sects and fighting them is well-calculated to make sectarians of us. Compromising with them makes us fellow-sects with them. [4]

 Women Teaching Men in Sunday Bible Classes? Yes!.  While Lipscomb opposed women teaching in “public” and in the assembly of the church, he thought they should be teaching at all other times. This included teaching Sunday Bible classes with men present.  He did not think that women who taught a Bible class with men were violating God’s limitations.

Philip’s daughters prophesied at home to Paul and his company. (Acts 21:8, 9.) Men and women are so universally addressed together as one and the same that it is rejecting the word of God to say women are not as much commanded to teach the Bible as men are. The only difference is, they are not permitted to teach at certain times and in cetain manners. Women may teach and be taught at home, at the houses of strangers, as they travel through the country, at the meeting for preaching; they may take an ignorant preacher to themslves and teach him ‘the way of the Lord more accurately.’…At the Sunday school the woman does not usurp the place of a man in teaching all present. Only a few who wish to be taught or to teach attend. The woman does not teach before all who are present. She takes her class, old or young, to themselves and teaches them. I never saw it otherwise. In this course they obey the command given to teach the word of God to the people and to avoid the things prohibited to women as teachers and leaders of the men….Suppose a number of men, women, or children, or all combined, were willing to study the bible, and a woman was the best teacher they could find, and they were to meet at her house to get her help, and she was to teach them in studying the Bible; would she do wrong in helping them?…Suppose it was more convenient to meet at the meetinghouse and study the Bible at an hour not used for the regular church meetings, would this be sin? What makes it a sin to meet at the meetinghouse to study the word of God? [5]

Imperfect Obedience. Lipscomb stressed obedience to God’s requirements about as much as anyone could. Obedience was a core value for him and specifically doing exactly what God required, nothing more and nothing less. Nevertheless, he recognized that human beings understand God’s requirements imperfectly, obey imperfectly and that God is is merciful. I have assembled below a few examples below.

When asked about assurance….: “We must strive to walk in the steps of Jesus and so grow into the likeness of God. But with our best efforts to serve God, we will often fall short of doing his will. We are human. And never a day passes that a man can say: “This day I have done my whole duty.” We fall short; we make wrong steps; we are frail and imperfect. When we have done the best we can, we must be saved by the mercy and love of God. His grace is sufficient for us, but we never reach the point that we do not need his grace to save us….It was a blessing thing for humanity hat Jesus gave the example of the two men that went up into the temple to pray,’ and the assurance that the publican, who stood afar off, and ‘would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote his breast, saying, God, be though merciful to me a sinner,” “went down to his house justified rather than the other”—the self-righteous, self-sufficient Pharisee, who felt that he possessed all the virtues. God’s grace is revealed to our faith as sufficient to have all who continually strive to serve God, to do his will despite the weaknesses and frailties of humanity that cause men to fall short of a perfect obedience. What God requires is to be like Jesus in having no will of our own, but a constant, earnest desire to do just what God requires.” [6]

When asked whether a formal confession was necessary before baptism…: When a man openly confesses Christ by putting him on before the world, to rebaptize him because he had not confessed Christ is to make a mockery of the service. It shows a low idea and conception of God. It represents God as anxious to condemn a man and watching for an opportunity or excuse to condemn him. I have never known a man or a woman to be baptized that did not in that act declare faith in Jesus as the Christ. The apostles tell us of only one case that required rebaptism. Then they were not baptized in the name of Jesus Christ. To be rebaptized on light grounds brings reproach on the Bible. [7]

When asked about rebaptism….: Imperfect beings never perfectly understand anything. Imperfect beings never do anything perfectly. This is a contradiction. The spirit in which one should come to Christ is that of a little child, knowing but little, but trusting in God, and glad in his ignorance and helplessness to follow God and do what God desires him to do, and because God desires it. “Ye are my friends, if ye do the things I command you.” A better motive to do than because God commanded it never moved a man. [8]

God saves through imperfect obedience? For some that is heresy; for some it opens too many doors.  For me, I don’t see any other option and I am grateful for God’s mercy and grace.

Footnotes:

[1] David Lipscomb, “Another Year,” Gospel Advocate 52 (6 January 1910) 13.

[2] David Lipscomb, “The Christian’s Relation to Worldly Government,” Gospel Advocate 52 (10 March 1910) 294.

[3] David Lipscomb, “The Rule of Faith,” Gospel Advocate 52 (9 June 1910) 688.

[4] David Lipscomb, “Bible Schools,” Gospel Advocate 52 (16 June 1910) 712-3.

[5] David Lipscomb, “Should Women Teach?” Gospel Advocate 52 (25 August 1910) 968-9.

[6] David Lipscomb, “Assurance of Pardon,” Gospel Advocate 52 (27 October 1910) 1184-5.

[7] David Lipscomb, “The Confession,” Gospel Advocate 52 (1 December 1910) 1337.

[8] David Lipscomb, “Query Department,” Gospel Advocate 52 (6 October 1910) 1109.

Continuing my reading of Lipscomb in the first decades of the 20th century, I have lifted a few more what I regard as illuminating comments by the 80 year old editor of the Gospel Advocate.

Publish Both Sides for Free Discussion. Lipscomb believed that fair, thorough and open discussion of a biblical issue was the best course to follow. Truth would reign in such a situation and evil would be vanquished. Consequently the Gospel Advocate under his editorship published both sides of a discussion (part of the Tennessee Tradition of open discussion).  However, not everyone followed this policy such as Joe S. Warlick of The Gospel Guide (Texas Tradition paper) and Daniel Sommer of the Octographic Review (Indiana Tradition). When B. C. Goodpasture excluded NI (non-institutional) writers from the Gospel Advocate in the 1950s, this was one of the premier articles referenced by the excluded (cf. Fanning Yater Tant, “I Would Cease to Read It,” Gospel Guardian 6.12 [29 July 1954] 5).

This good has come from holing the Gospel Advocate open to discuss the evils of introducing into the church things not required by God. Evil has seemed to grow out of this by the failure to treat the subject as God directs. If these evils are not discussed, we disobey God and leave evil to run riot in the churches. Evil will grow up in the churches, and the failure to expose it is to invite the evil…I said: ‘I do not read [Joe S.] Warlick’s paper, because he will not publish both sides of a question.’…Brother [Daniel] Sommer, of the Octographic Review, adopted this policy some years ago, the only example of it I had ever known among disciples. I ceased to read his paper, and we get along so peaceably. The Guide adopts the same plan. I treat both alike…I would like to see all of us get along pleasantly and harmoniously in obeying the commands of God. But if the Gospel Advocate were to adopt this policy of criticizing others and refusing to let them reply, I would cease to read it. [1]

Women and Public Speaking.  If there is any question where Lipscomb reveals his enculturation, it is on the question of women in the church and society.  When he was asked about the practice of some Sommer churches in the north that permitted women to lead prayer, read Scripture and exhort the assembly, his response is quite strict. He extends the prophibition against public speaking to outside the assembly of the church.  To his credit, however, he did publish a response from Silena Moore Holman who was not only an elder’s wife but the president of the Tennessee chapter of the Woman’s Christian Temperance Movement. This is a woman with whom Lipscomb had significant disagreements–she was a public speaker and politically involved. Nevertheless, he published both sides.

Again, there is no law prohbiting women’s speaking under the Jewish law. So the failure to authorize them to speak under that law amounted to a prohibition to speak. The same rule holds good now. While the language in 1 Cor. 14 certainly embraces the Lord’s-day meeting, it is difficult to say that it is confined to it.

All the reasons given and the facts stated condemn woman’s leadership in other places as well as in the church on Lord’s day…All public teaching and speaking on any subject at any place puts woman out of place, out of her God-given work. She is by nature and disposition suited to a quiet, retiring service. She may use these conditions to teach and develop her abilities and work as a teacher and instructor of all.

God forbids woman to take a leading public part in teaching people at any time; but she may in a quiet, modest way teach the Bible to men, women and children, at home or a place of meeting. God has appointed but one regular, necessary meeting on the Lord’s day, where certain worship is to be performed. He allows other meetings for worship as his children may approve. But woman is not permitted to take a leading part in any of them. She may instruct in a modest way where men fail to do it. All meetings of the church are church meetings. Some are for specific purposes; others to teach, encourage, and help each other. Women ought to be modest at all of them. Men should be active to lead, and all things will work well. [2]

Women Baptizing? In response to a question from a reader, Lipscomb opposed this as a public leadership role. It did not suit the role of woman in both society and church to have such a public face. In his response Lipscomb reveals his prejudice against immigrant Catholics who are proliferating in “northern lands” because progressive women seek careers and public leadership rather than bearing and raising children.

God never called woman to such public works….there is no intimation that they will be saved from it, or blessed in seeking to do man’s work as a leader and guide of man….Some Southern women are following in the steps of these [progressive women, JMH] and are becoming public speakers and business managers, and they are failing to bear children, and in a generation or two the Catholics will take the lead here. [3]

Or, in another place, when he is concerned about how men are retreating from leadership in the church, he wrote:

 There are two causes that lead men to cease to attend the church and take part in the teaching and worship of the church. The first is, the women are forward to take part in the service, and especially to lead and teach….The Bible, taken as a whole, in all its works and institutions, makes woman a home keeper and imposes on her the work of bearing and rearing children. To this work, if not perverted, her tates and inclinations will lead her. Let us all faithfully and truly work as God has appointed, and he will abundantly bless.” [4]

The Work of Jesus is the Work of the Church.  Lipscomb has a consistent emphasis on the relationship of the church to the poor and weak. Here is a succinct but profound statement of his position that one can see in almost every other editorial by Lipscomb in these last years.  I wonder why he sense a deep need to emphasize it–cultural shifts in the church, or at his age he simply emphasized what he thought was most important. In any event, here is a good example:

 How many professed Christians are there that give time and labor to help the poor and needy, the sick and destitute in the world? Are professed Christians more apt to do good in helping others as Christ did than those not Christians? The work of the Christian is to do the work of Jesus. The spiritual body of Christ, the church, should continue the work he did in the fleshly body. So being trained to the same work, we may be fitted to dwell with him in his home. If we cannot and do not the work of Jesus, it is because we are none of his. [5]

In my opinion, Lipscomb is batting .500 for his views in this post.  I’m grateful that both he and I are saved by grace through faith rather by a knowledge that bats 1.000 (or, what batting average is required if it is not by grace?).

Footnotes:

[1] David Lipscomb, “Difficulties and Differences Among Christians,” Gospel Advocate 53 (12 January 1911) 44-45

[2] David Lipscomb, “Information Wanted on the ‘Woman Question’,” Gospel Advocate 53 (19 January 1911), 78-79.

[3] David Lipscomb, “Query Department,” Gospel Advocate 53 (26 October 1911), 1222.

[4] David Lipscomb, “Stopping the Leak,” Gospel Advocate 53 (14 December 1911) 1454-5.

[5] David Lipscomb, “Can We Too Rigidly Follow God’s Law,” Gospel Advocate 53 (9 March 1911) 303.

David Bebbington, Evangelicalism in Modern Britain (1989), 3, identifies biblicism (sola scriptura), conversionism (“born again”), activism (missions, historic social engagement such as abolition, temperance, abortion, etc.) and crucicentrism as marks of historic British Evangelicalism.

Each of these resonates with me as an important dimension of American Evangelicalism and, more particularly, as part of the story of Churches of Christ in the 20th century with the exception of activism. Our “conversionism” had a different definition than Evangelicalism as we stressed conversion through the “five steps of salvation.”

But tonight, on this Easter evening, crucicentrism–the focus on the cross as the atoning work of Christ as the redemptive act of God–is my concern. Bebbington’s identification is spot on, I think, and I see it in my own tradition.

For example, how many Evangelical songs focus on the cross but how few focus on the resurrection? I can count on one hand the repetorie of resurrection songs available to the church on Easter (and that is about the only time we sang them) but I would have to use my toes and several hundred people to count the number of “Cross” songs available and regularly sung throughout the year.

Another example is resurrection sermons within historic Evangelicalism and among Churches of Christ were mostly–if not wholly–apologetic in character. Oh, of course, there was the theological nod to our future resurrection and present hope, but the focus was usually upon the evidential value of the resurrection rather than its theological meaning. It was as if the ministry and life of Jesus proved he was the Son of God by miracles and sinless life and the resurrection was the capstone demonstration of such.

I recognize that the resurrection declares Jesus’ sonship (e.g., Romans 1:4), but it does this in more pregnant ways than simply validating or verifying a truth claim. For example, as Moltmann and Pannenberg have taught me, the resurrection is itself an eschatological event within history; it is an act of God that comes from the future. The resurrection participates in the future; it is the future present within history. Resurrection is theological promise and present hope.

Moreover, resurrection–as recent discussions of the new heaven and new earth reflect–is an affirmation of creation itself. The body has a future; creation has a future. Jesus, as a raised human, is the new humanity–embodied, material, and the inaugurator a renewed creation.  And much more could be said about the theological meaning of the resurrection, including ethics.

Resurrection is also a redemptive event; not just the Cross. Incarnation is a redemptive event, not just the cross. The Ministry of Jesus is a redemptive event, not just the Cross.

Crucicentrism, in my opinion, actually distorts the fullness of the gospel, the good news.  The good news of the kingdom, which Jesus himself preached, is broader and fuller than the Cross itself. Jesus preached the gospel before he ever said a word about his death. The Cross is redemptive, atoning and salvific–no doubt in my mind, but so is the Incarnation, Ministry, Resurrection and Ascension of Jesus as well.

Crucicentrism, it seems to me, is a heavy-handed emphasis on and exaggeration of some Pauline language. Often Paul balances cross and resurrection (e.g., Romans 4:25), but sometimes he only mentions the cross (e.g., 1 Corinthians 2:2-5). Paul’s boasting in the cross has been extracted as his central core rather than reading those texts in the context of the specific occasions of his preaching (e.g., the focus on “Christ crucified” in 1 Corinthians 2 stresses the weakeness in which God came just as Paul himself came in weakness to Corinth).

When we read the Gospels Jesus’ death as a theological event receives little emphasis except as it is narrated (which is huge, of course). When we read the preaching in Acts, the resurrection is stressed rather than the death and little theological meaning is attached to the death in those sermons (which contrasts with standard Evangelical preaching on the Cross).

My point is not that we should never talk about the Cross or explore its meaning.  God forbid!  My point is that crucicentrism does not give sufficient attention to the Christ Event as a whole. It does not recognize the equal importance of Incarnation, Ministry, Resurrection and Ascension. Crucicentrism tends to relegate Incarnation and Ministry to necessary conditions for the Cross and Resurrection and Ascension as rewards of Christ’s obedient death, and thus the Cross stays at the center (crucicentrism). But I think that underplays the theological meaning of Incarnation, Ministry, Resurrection and Ascension. It is not the Cross that is at the center, but Christ–the whole Christ.

The Gospel is Good Friday through Holy Saturday into Easter Sunday.  But the Gospel is also Christmas and Pentecost. The Gospel is also Epiphany (with the Eastern emphasis, not the reductionistic Western one). The Gospel is the story of Jesus Christ come into the world to redeem the world through his Incarnation, Ministry, Death, Resurrection and Ascension.

Good Friday and then Easter!

But a day is missing in that story. To move from Friday to Sunday one must walk through Saturday.

Saturday, however, is a lonely day. Death has won. Hope is lost. Jesus of Nazareth lies in a tomb. His disciples are afraid, hiding and deeply depressed. Everything they had invested in for the past three years seems pointless now.  They are leaderless, hopeless and aimless.

Holy Saturday is the day we sit by the grave. It is the day to feel the gloom of the grave, to face the reality of death itself. It is a day to weep, fast and mourn. The late second century church (e.g., Irenaeus) fasted from all food on this day because it was a day of mourning. They did not break the fast till Easter morning.

Those of us who have spent time at graves–in my case the grave of a parent, wife and child–understand this grief, the despair of the grave. I have spent much of my life running away from graves, and have rarely spent much time thinking about Holy Saturday.

It is much easier to skip from Friday to Easter than to dwell on Holy Saturday. It is like, as happened in my life, skipping grief as much as possible. It is easier to run from grief, escape it rather than face it.

Holy Saturday reminds me to grieve, to lament. It reminds me to rail against death, the enemy of both God and humanity. It reminds to protest death and renew my hatred for it. It reminds to feel again and sit with the disciples in their despair.

Indeed, to sit with the disciples in their despair is to sit with humanity in the face of death. When we sit at the grave we recognize our powerlessness. We cannot reverse death; we cannot defeat this enemy. Holy Saturday creates a yearning for Easter. We need Easter for without it we are dead.

Today (Friday) we remember the death, tomorrow we sit at the grave, but on Sunday we are renewed by the hope of the resurrection. 

Jesus walked that path and we follow him.  We, too, will have our Friday, one day we will be entombed in a grave, and–by the grace and mercy of God–on that great day we will rise again to walk with Jesus upon the new heaven and new earth.

That is the meaning of Good Friday, Holy Saturday and Easter.