Tag Archives: Golden Rule

“Red Letter Reductionism” Expanded

Recently I received word that someone might be interested in publishing my “Red Letter Reductionism” essay that I first shared in 2013—if only I could reduce it a little.

So I expanded it from 23 pages to 31 pages. Then, with great effort and the judicious advice of a friend, I cut it down to 14 pages. Now I have two red letter reductionism essays:

  • “Red Letter Reductionism” (expanded version, 31 pages)
  • “Red Letter Reductionism and Apostolic Authority” (reduced version, 14 pages)

This is all rather expansive for an essay about reductionism, but I am thankful for the results.

I’m not sure I want to post my abbreviated essay until it has been published in print (trusting it will be). But here is the expanded version of the original essay:

Red Letter Reductionism

What is this essay about?

Red letter Christians are any Christians who in some way prioritize the words of Jesus over the rest of Bible, including over the rest of the New Testament. While the words of Jesus are indeed important, I think that elevating the Bible’s red letters over its black letters is a bad practice that can lead to bad results.

In this essay I explain why, focusing especially on the authority Jesus gave to his apostles, including his promise to speak through them.

From the essay introduction:

This essay is about red letter theology and red letter Christians. It is about the authority of the New Testament and the nature of the gospel. First, we need an introduction to red letter Christianity. Then we will ask whether it is harmless. To answer our question, we will consider the promise of the Spirit, the limits of pre-Pentecostal revelation, and the nature of apostolic authority. We will take a close look at Paul, examining his gospel and his apostolic claims. We will examine John 3:16 as a test case for red letter theology and then ask whether this theology paints a shrunken, two-dimensional Jesus. We will consider the relationship between the Sermon on the Mount and the gospel and ask whether Anabaptists are truly excited about the gospel. Finally, we will consult Matthew’s opinion on red and black letters, then conclude with two clarifications and five suggestions for readers of this essay.

What is new in this edition?

First, I combed the entire essay, trying to improve clarity and weed out overstatements. Then I added significant new content.

I invite you to read the entire essay, even (perhaps especially) if you’ve read it before. Most paragraphs were tweaked at least a little.

But I don’t want you to miss some of the new material I’ve included, so I’ll share four excerpts here (minus footnotes).

1. On the term “the authority of Scripture”:

We must pause to examine what we mean by “the authority of Scripture.” First, following N.T. Wright, I believe that “the phrase ‘the authority of scripture’ can make Christian sense only if it is shorthand for ‘the authority of the triune God, exercised somehow through scripture.’”[1] On the one hand, this definition prevents us from directing worship to a book rather than to its Author; on the other hand, it reminds us that reverence for Scripture as the word of God is not idolatry but essential fear of God. Second, the term authority is used variously to refer to both (a) the divine origin of Scripture and (b) the weight or influence that any portion of Scripture carries to shape our interpretations and behaviors. In this essay I am primarily addressing the question of the divine origin of Scripture, arguing that red and black letters alike are words from God and, in that sense, equally authoritative. But one question leads to another; those who question whether all black letters truly come from God will also not allow them to shape their interpretations and behaviors as strongly. So near the end of this essay I will briefly address the question of which passages of Scripture should rightly shape our interpretation of Scripture most directly and strongly.

2. On the self-awareness of the New Testament authors about the authority they exercised as they wrote:

At least some New Testament authors seem to have been aware of the authority entrusted to them as they wrote. Peter addresses his readers as “an apostle of Jesus Christ” (1 Pet. 1:1), declaring that what he had “written” was “the true grace of God” in which his readers must “stand firm” (1 Pet. 5:12). This self-identification as “apostle” is found at the beginning of many New Testament letters, and should not be missed. When an Old Testament prophet said “Thus says the LORD,” he was using a standard messenger formula—the same formula that was used by the herald of a king, who would preface his message by saying “Thus says king so-and-so.” This formula indicated that the prophet was on assignment, speaking God’s words.[1] A similar thing seems to be happening in the New Testament whenever an author claims to be an apostle. He is using this title to assert that he is God’s messenger—“the special envoy of Christ Jesus commissioned by the will of God.”[2]

…John… prefaces his prophetic visions with a blessing best reserved for the word of God (cf. Jesus’ statement in Luke 11:28): “Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear, and who keep what is written in it” (Rev. 1:3a). At the end of Revelation, Jesus repeats this blessing on those who “keep” what John has written (Rev. 22:7; cf. 22:9), just as faithful saints elsewhere in the book are said to “keep” the commandments of God (12:17; 14:12) and the word of Jesus (3:8, 10).

John’s prophecy ends with a most solemn warning (that may come from the lips of Jesus himself):

I warn everyone who hears the words of the prophecy of this book: if anyone adds to them, God will add to him the plagues described in this book, and if anyone takes away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God will take away his share in the tree of life and in the holy city, which are described in this book. (Rev. 22:18-19)

This warning adapts similar warnings found in the Law of Moses (Deut. 4:1-2; 12:32; 29:19-20), leading Oxford theologian Christopher Rowland to this observation:

In utilizing this prohibition from Deuteronomy John appears to regard his own revelations as being of equal importance with earlier communications from God given to Moses. There is no question here of this book being regarded by its author either as a series of inspired guesses or intelligent surmise. John believes that what he has seen and heard actually conveys the divine truth to his readers… John sees himself as the one who has been commissioned to write down the divine counsels for the benefits of the churches (Rev. 1:19).[3] 

3. On whether Paul undermines nonresistance:

Another reason some people are uneasy about Paul’s influence is because they fear he is not sufficiently clear on nonresistance. After all, a majority of Protestants historically have been all too quick to take up the sword and repay evil with evil. Does this endorsement of violence flow naturally from the Pauline Reformed theology that many of them embrace? More explicitly still, Romans 13 certainly has been and still is used by many Protestants to defend the Christian use of the sword. Isn’t it safest—even essential—to subjugate Paul’s ambivalent teachings on the sword to Jesus’ clear command that we must not resist evil?

Four brief responses can be given. First, Reformed or even Protestant theology simply does not explain most of the Christian use of the sword throughout history. Roman Catholics, too, have historically affirmed the Christian use of the sword, despite not being shaped by the Pauline theology of Luther which set the trajectory for Protestant doctrines. During the Reformation, Protestants and Catholics alike waged war and persecuted Anabaptists. And Christian just war theory is much older than the Reformation. It stretches back at least to Augustine (A.D. 354-430), was developed most significantly by the great Catholic theologian Thomas Aquinas (A.D. 1225-1274), and remains the official doctrine of the Catholic church to this day.

Second, Paul is not to blame for Augustine’s formulation of just war theory. Augustine believed that Jesus’ command to love our neighbor meant that Christians must normally not kill in self-defense. Yet, drawing explicitly upon Greco-Roman pagan thinkers—especially Cicero[1]—he made an exception for “just wars.” Romans 13 was not his “starting point,” despite the chapter’s later close association with just war theory by thinkers such as Aquinas and Luther.[2] Augustine concluded, as one scholar summarizes, that “‘times change’… pacifism was appropriate… in the time of the apostles [but] not… in a day and age when kings and nations have succumbed to the gospel” in fulfillment of prophecy.[3] Augustine was well aware of what both Jesus and the apostles taught, but concluded that new circumstances called for new behaviors. Augustine’s theology was too pagan, not too Pauline.

This leads to a third point: the influence of politics on theology. Catholics and Protestants alike developed their theology within the context of a Christendom that extended back to Constantine, the first Roman emperor to bear the sword in the name of Jesus. Political allegiances shaped the magisterial theology of Zwingli, Luther, and Calvin, with each relying on the sword-bearing support of city councils or German princes. The Swiss Brethren Anabaptists, in contrast, counted the cost of losing political legitimacy at the time they chose believers’ baptism. Living as a persecuted minority, they were free of political entanglements that might have hindered them from following Jesus’ teachings on nonviolent enemy-love. Yet they developed their nonresistant theology, it must be noted, while also wrestling meaningfully with Paul’s teachings in Romans 13.[4] This influence of political power over our theology of the sword continues to this day, as Reformed theologian Preston Sprinkle has observed:

It’s fascinating (one might say disturbing) to see how each person’s political context or position shapes his or her understanding of Romans 13. Christians living in North Korea or Burma tend to read Romans 13 differently than Americans do… Not more than a generation ago, Romans 13 was hailed as the charter for apartheid in South Africa. American Christian leaders did the same during the years of slavery and segregation.[5]

“Most now would see such a view of Romans 13 as going a bit too far,” Sprinkle continues. “But only a bit.” He notes how Wayne Grudem has applied this chapter to America’s wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, assuming that America is the good government and that Iraq and Afghanistan are the bad governments. “Were it flipped around and Romans 13 was used to validate Afghanistan’s invasion of America as punishment for horrific drone strikes on civilians,” Sprinkle suggests, “most Americans would see this as a misreading of Romans 13.”[6]

Which brings us to our final point: Paul is far clearer on nonresistance than many Christians, red letter or not, tend to acknowledge. In fact, Paul’s writings are in line with the entire New Testament, which “highlights Jesus’s nonviolent response to violence as a pattern to follow more often than any other aspect of his ministry.”[7] Paul “has the Sermon on the Mount ingrained in his soul,” Sprinkle observes, and most of “Paul’s litany of commands… in Romans 12… has the scent of Jesus’s Sermon.”[8] “Repay no one evil for evil… never avenge yourselves… if your enemy is hungry, feed him… overcome evil with good” (Rom. 12:17-21). The clarity of Romans 12 and other Pauline passages should remove all doubt that when Romans 13 puts the sword into the hand of the third-person government (“he,” not “you”), Paul cannot be affirming Christian vengeance. After all, “Paul explicitly forbids the church in Romans 12 from doing what the government does in Romans 13.”[9]

4. On whether Matthew—the favorite gospel of many red letter Christians—promotes red letter theology:

David Starling addresses such questions in his recent book Hermeneutics as Apprenticeship.[1] First, Starling notes that both the Great Commission at the end of Matthew’s Gospel and the six “antitheses” of Matthew 5 give Jesus’ own words a prominence that matches and perhaps even exceeds the law of Moses. Similarly, at the center of Matthew’s Gospel we find the mount of transfiguration, where God the Father exalts Jesus with an assertion (“this is my Son”) and a command (“listen to him!”). Starling suggests that “the assertion and command… (echoed by Jesus’s own assertion and command in Matt. 28:18-20a) are the twin foci around which Matthew arranges the material of his Gospel.” Thus, there are “five big blocks of red-letter content (chs. 5-7; 10; 13:1-52; 18; 24-25) in Matthew,” each underscoring “the identity and authority of Jesus as the Son of God.” Starling summarizes what this reveals about Matthew’s purposes as a Gospel writer:

The bulk and the prominence of these five blocks of teaching suggest that Matthew intended not only to narrate Jesus’ story but also to preserve and propagate his teachings, so that his disciples might learn and obey them. Evidently, according to the shape and content of Matthew’s testimony, the redness of the red letters in his Gospel is of no small significance to Jesus, to Matthew, and to God himself, and ought to be of no small significance to the Gospel’s readers.[2]

So far, so good for red letter theology. But Starling continues:

But what exactly is the nature of that significance? How does Matthew want us to understand the relationship between Jesus’s words and the words of the Old Testament Scriptures (and, for that matter, Matthew’s own words as the writer of the Gospel)?[3]

Starling answers by examining both Jesus’ words and Matthew’s words. The first words of Jesus recorded in Matthew (at his baptism) implicitly appeal to Scripture (Matt. 3:15). The next recorded words (at his temptation) directly appeal to Scripture (Matt. 4:1-11). The Beatitudes “are soaked in recollections of the Scriptures,” and “it is harder to imagine a stronger claim for the enduring importance of the Law than the language Jesus uses” in Matthew 5:18: “For truly, I say to you, until heaven and earth pass away, not an iota, not a dot, will pass from the Law until all is accomplished.”[4] As we continue reading Matthew’s record of Jesus’ words, the pattern of quoting and honoring the Scriptures continues. So Starling concludes:

The red letters of Matthew’s Gospel can hardly be interpreted as an attempt to wrest authority away from the black. Any notion we might have that Jesus’s words could replace or supersede the words of Old Testament Scripture is dispelled as soon as Jesus starts speaking.[5]

Matthew’s own words have a similar effect. Starling suggests that Matthew is teaching a way of reading the Scriptures. He does this by using a “constant interleaving of biographical narrative [about Jesus’ life], typological allusions [from the Old Testament], and scriptural citations [also from the Old Testament].”[6] Craig Keener explains:

Matthew has constructed almost every paragraph following the genealogy and until the Sermon on the Mount around at least one text of Scripture. He thus invites his ideal audience to read Jesus in light of Scripture and Scripture in light of Jesus.[7]

The references to the Old Testament continue throughout Matthew’s narrative, “so that we might learn to read Scripture, and to understand Christ, accordingly.”[8]

Starling ends his chapter with insightful and mature reflections, worth quoting at length:

The red letters of Jesus’s teachings do indeed… fulfill a particular function in the economy of Scripture. Christians who… attempt to read the Scriptures as a timeless, undifferentiated compendium of divine commands, may revere Scripture but can hardly be said to have understood its message: those who faithfully trace the lines of Scripture’s black letters must inevitably be led to the place where they become hearers (and doers) of the red.

But the relationship between the black letters and the red is not a one-way street; it is a recursive, reciprocal relationship. The black letters of the Old Testament prophecy and apostolic testimony lead us to Jesus and urge us to listen to him; the red letters of Jesus’s teaching, in turn, commission and authorize his apostles as heralds of the gospel and send us back to the Old Testament to learn its meaning and its implications afresh in light of his coming. The red letters of Matthew’s Gospel are joined to the black in an indispensable, mutually authorizing, and mutually interpretive relationship; what God has joined together no interpreter should attempt to separate.

For evangelicals in our own time, confronted with the claim that we must choose between two different kinds of Christianity—one defined by the red letters of Scripture and the other defined by the black—the Gospel of Matthew provides a timely warning against false dichotomies and needless schisms. It reminds “red letter Christians” of the indispensability of the black letters and reminds “black letter Christians of the centrality of the red (or, more precisely, of the one who speaks them).[9]

To this exhortation I say “amen”—adding only a little more precision by reminding us that it is actually the risen Jesus himself who is speaking in the black letters of the apostolic writings, as we noted above. In summary, Christians who try to use Matthew’s Gospel to create a more perfect red letter version of Christianity do dishonor to Matthew and to Jesus himself.

May God help us all read and honor his written word and his risen Christ more faithfully!

The original version of this essay was much improved by the feedback of some readers—including some very rigorous ones on the crashed-and-rebranded former Mennodiscuss.com. (Thankfully, I downloaded and saved much of that feedback!) I welcome your feedback here, too, in the comments below. Thank you!


Save page

More on Calvin: Marks of the Church and Fighting Nicely

That’s “more on Calvin,” not “moron Calvin”! I want to talk more about that in a moment, but first I want to share something from Calvin that I read this morning.

Marks of the Church

As you may have noticed several times in my series on the ecclesiology of the Reformers (begin here), one way that many Reformers tried to identify the true Church was to identify marks (or nota) that characterized the true Church. Luther is generally said to have identified two marks of the church (the Word rightly preached and the sacraments rightly administered), but he actually identified seven. Calvin also focused on Word and sacrament, but he nuanced them a little differently and his Reformed heirs added a third, church discipline (see here for a modern defense of this triad). Some of Calvin’s heirs in our own generation have identified “Nine Marks of a Healthy Church.” If we go back to the early church, we see the Nicene Creed identified four marks: One, holy, catholic, and apostolic. The activity of identifying marks has a long history!

With that background, here is an excerpt from a blog I read this morning, containing quotes from Calvin’s Institute of the Christian Religion:

It is always disastrous to leave the church.” The words are from John Calvin…

Clearly, Calvin knew churches had problems. But he warns against leaving simply because there are problems.

“The pure ministry of the Word and pure mode of celebrating the sacraments are, as we say, sufficient pledge and guarantee that we may safely embrace as church any society in which both these marks exist. The principle extends to the point that we must not reject it so long as it retains them, even if it otherwise swarms with many faults. . . . But I say we must not thoughtlessly forsake the church because of any petty dissensions.” (4.1.12) He plainly says those who seek a church “besmirched with no blemish” are looking in vain (4.1.13) but we must remember that it “is no less true that the Lord is daily at work in smoothing out wrinkles and cleansing spots” and from this “it follows that the church’s holiness is not yet complete.” (4.1.17) [Emphasis added by Louis McBride at Baker Book House Church Connection.]

–> To read the rest, click here <–

My observation today about this activity of identifying marks is modest: It seems to me that we sometimes identify marks of the true Church based on our dissatisfaction with other branches of Christianity as much as on a careful reading of Scripture. In short, our marks tend to be somewhat reactionary.

We even see this, I think, in the two marks of the church that Luther and Calvin featured: Word and sacrament. What did Luther and Calvin like least about the Roman Catholic Church? I’m guessing it would be hard to find two better answers than (a) the Roman Catholic Church’s failure to proclaim the Word faithfully and clearly in the vernacular languages and (b) its understanding of sacraments such as the mass.

Let me hasten to assure you: I strongly agree that faithful proclamation of the Scriptures and biblical practice of baptism and the Lord’s Supper are central marks of a healthy church. But it is interesting to note that the Roman Catholics had an important historical mark in their favor as well: the true Church was “one.” This was important to them in part because the Reformers threatened it. And the Anabaptists, while agreeing on the importance of right observance of the sacraments, identified the true Church differently than the magisterial Reformers did because they disagreed on the correct observance of baptism. Each stream of the Reformation emphasized different marks of the Church (and thus identified the true Church differently) based in part on their disagreements with the other streams.

We do that yet today. Let me give two related examples. Here is the first: In a recent edition of the mission paper Alight, an “entirely Columbian movement of churches” is described.1 Despite having “no help from foreign missionaries and… no knowledge of the Anabaptists,” this movement believes and practices “virtually all of what conservative Mennonites do.” In particular, they “are nonresistant, nonconformed to the world, and with some slight variation practice all seven of what we call ordinances. Their churches are disciplined, and holiness of life is their hallmark. The church is zealous in evangelism.” Again, let me hasten to reassure you: I also rejoice when I hear of other Christians who share my convictions (see here for a recent example). But I do want to observe that the list above sounds suspiciously like another list of marks of the true Church. And again, nonresistance, nonconformity, and seven ordinances are beliefs that conservative Anabaptists hold in opposition to many other church traditions. The danger is that forming church marks in opposition to others is likely to produce an imbalanced set of marks of the true Church.

My second example affirms the first. A friend recently told me this: “When we put an addition on at [our church building], the contractor who did the concrete work was Amish (or Beachy…not sure). He wanted to know whether we practiced the 7 ordinances and if so, we’d get a discount on his work.” For this contractor, clearly, a mark of the true Church is that it practices seven ordinances.

In saying all the above I do not mean to criticize the task of identifying the true Church. I do think it is important to identify specific marks of the true Church–and also marks of a healthy church, as one example above puts it. But let’s honestly evaluate the marks that our own church traditions have emphasized, comparing them with marks identified in other traditions and with Scripture. This can help us achieve a more biblical balance.

What might Paul say about the marks of the true Church? That’s a topic for another post (or book!), but I’ll say that my recent reading of Galatians has made one point crystal clear: We will never identify the Church correctly until we first identify the gospel correctly.

Fighting Nicely

When I was a boy, I used to sometimes fight with my brothers. (Still do!) Our father sometimes interrupted our squabbles with the admonition, “Fight nice!” I think this is wise advice not only for boys, but also for Christians relating to Christians in other denominations and church traditions.

After my last blog post on Calvin (see here), one good-hearted friend sent me a brief response:

“Anabaptists demonstrate a total lack of intelligence. There is nothing to be learned from their ideas.” — John Calvin  🙂

[Note: See the update at the end of this post for a bit more context.]

I pondered a while, did a bit of research, and responded thus (abridged and lightly edited):

I think you just posted in fun, so I don’t want to attribute unkind motives to you. But I have to ask, do you think your comment reflects a Golden Rule approach? Does it give a fair and balanced representation of Calvin or of those who find him of value? Did you provide a source to (a) prove that your quote is accurate and (b) provide context for Calvin’s words?

I did a bit of searching online for your quote this morning. Interestingly, the only place I’m seeing that exact quote is on Anabaptist websites that are anti-Calvin. As best as I can tell, the source for the attribution of these two sentences to Calvin seems to come from the headline of this blog: http://modern-parables.blogspot.com/

Interestingly, I also find the same sentences on this website: http://www.anabaptistnetwork.com/node/448  But notice how this website (more scholarly than the former) clarifies that only a few of the words are actually directly from Calvin, and that even those words were spoken in a very specific context and not as a general statement about Anabaptists:

With reference to their views on oath-taking, the Genevan Reformer John Calvin said the Anabaptists demonstrate a “total lack of intelligence.”43 There is nothing to be learned from them or their ideas.

It looks like the blogger above (or someone before her) did a cut-and-paste from this scholarly website, deleted the quotation marks, deleted a few words near the end (“them or”) in order to make it fit on her headline, and falsely attributed the whole to Calvin. Ouch!2

The Anabaptist Network website helpfully includes a footnote that gives a source for the “total lack of intelligence” phrase. It comes, apparently, from Calvin’s Harmony of the Gospels. You can read it here: http://www.ccel.org/ccel/calvin/calcom31.ix.xlviii.html  Here is the extended passage where Calvin discusses Jesus’ words about oaths (Matt. 5:33-37), with the quoted phrase highlighted (it is slightly different than above because it is a different translation of Calvin’s Latin or French, but I’m quite certain it’s the source for our mysterious “quote”):

Many have been led by the phrase, not at all, to adopt the false notion, that every kind of swearing is condemned by Christ. Some good men have been driven to this extreme rigor by observing the unbridled licentiousness of swearing, which prevailed in the world. The Anabaptists, too, have blustered a great deal, on the ground, that Christ appears to give no liberty to swear on any occasion, because he commands, Swear not at all But we need not go beyond the immediate context to obtain the exposition: for he immediately adds, neither by heaven, nor by the earth Who does not see that those kinds of swearing were added by way of exposition, to explain the former clause more fully by specifying a number of cases? The Jews had circuitous or indirect ways of swearing: and when they swore by heaven, or by earth, or by the altar (Matthew 23:18), they reckoned it to be next to nothing; and, as one vice springs from another, they defended, under this pretense, any profanation of the name of God that was not openly avowed.

To meet this crime, our Lord declares that they must not swear at all, either in this or that way, either by heaven, or by the earth Hence we conclude, that the particle, at all, relates not to the substance, but to the form, and means, “neither directly nor indirectly.” It would otherwise have been superfluous to enumerate those kinds: and therefore the Anabaptists betray not only a rage for controversy, but gross ignorance, when they obstinately press upon us a single word, and pass over, with closed eyes, the whole scope of the passage. Is it objected, that Christ permits no swearing? I reply: What the expounder of the law says, must be viewed in connection with its design. His statement amounts to this, that there are other ways of “taking the name of God in vain,” besides perjury; and, therefore, that we ought to refrain from allowing ourselves the liberty of unnecessary swearing: for, when there are just reasons to demand it, the law not only permits, but expressly commands us to swear. Christ, therefore, meant nothing more than this, that all oaths are unlawful, which in any way abuse and profane the sacred name of God, for which they ought to have had the effect of producing a deeper reverence.

I’m not saying that Calvin was right on this point about oath-taking (although his emphasis on context is salutary), but I think we owe him Golden Rule justice and kindness in quoting him accurately and in context.

So… 🙂  Again, I think you were just commenting in good humor, and I thank you for starting me on a fascinating rabbit trail.

My friend and I proceeded to enjoy a good conversation about Calvin and Anabaptists. My friend shared his concerns, including this:

It does seem that reading Calvin has seen a resurgence among some youth today, I suspect maybe in reaction to postmodernistic doctrinal squishiness and a desire for hard propositional truths. We have several young men in our community who have become avid disciples of Calvin and claim to have a much deeper, authentic, and alive relationship with God as a result. If that is true, well, praise the Lord!

What saddens me though is that the applications they have made from 5 point Calvinism have led them to overemphasize (in my opinion) overemphasize God’s justice and wrath, and they have convinced themselves that there is nothing they can do to choose God, only God can choose them and anything good they do is only because God is making them do it.  Worse, they see God’s justice and wrath towards sin as normative for human responses toward other humans who threaten their well being, property, security, and lives.

It may be unfair to blame Calvin or his followers for the fact that these youth have lost their belief in non-violence, but I think there is a link between a theology of a “macho” muscular God who crushes all His enemies and metes out judgement and wrath towards sin and a personal loss of conviction that violence in protection of oneself and ones property is not for the believer. Maybe Calvin isn’t the problem here but his theology doesn’t seem to help the situation much.

I told my friend that I share some of his concerns (abridged and lightly edited):

I agree that the voices of the New Calvinists are a mixed blessing. I certainly have found them a blessing in many ways, but I have not been tempted by the non-nonviolent elements of their teachings. It saddens me when I hear D.A. Carson (whom I respect deeply in many other ways) celebrate how his son is in the military, and it saddens me even more to hear that some Anabaptist youth are losing their nonviolent convictions…

I would agree that “Calvin probably doesn’t deserve all the blame” for some Anabaptists today losing their nonresistance. For one thing, a lot of Calvinists today believe and emphasize things quite differently from what Calvin himself did. Also, my favorite book in support of our nonviolent position is one written by a Reformed professor who moves in the circles of John Piper, John MacArthur, and others: Fight: A Christian Case for Nonviolence, by Preston Sprinkle. So, believe it or not, and like it or not, Calvinist soteriology can exist alongside a nonviolent position. Perhaps you could introduce your youth friends to Sprinkle’s book?…

If only we could learn what is good from each other without either abandoning truths we already possess or blacklisting those who disagree with us on a few key points! The fact is, most of my scholarly biblical studies resources (three quarter?) were written by Calvinists. To cut myself off from their voices would be very costly.

All that to say that, though I most certainly agree that vigorous debate on matters like nonresistance is essential, let’s–in the words of my dad–be sure that we “fight nice.” Yes, Paul, did say he wished the pro-circumcision party would castrate themselves (Gal. 5:12), but at least he made sure he had his facts straight before he said it! In doctrinal debates and otherwise, kind words are as important as kind hands. And love of neighbor is most certainly one mark of members of the true Church.

Do you have thoughts on marks of the true Church or on fighting nicely? Share them in the comments below!  (And if my good-hearted friend wants to identify himself, I’ll leave that up to him. 🙂  We did discuss the possibility of me turning our conversation into a blog post.)

Update: After writing this post, I looked again at Timothy George’s book Theology of the Reformers. I was reminded that, while Calvin did not say the quote attributed to him above, he did say other things against the Anabaptists that were equally disparaging. George: “Calvin’s epithets were no less pejorative [than Luther’s]: “fanatics,” “deluded,” “scatterbrains,” “asses,” “scoundrels,” “mad dogs.” (George, Timothy [2013-09-01]. Theology of the Reformers [Kindle Locations 5805-5806]. B&H Publishing Group. Kindle Edition. Source: John Calvin, Treatises Against the Anabaptists and Against the Libertines, ed. Benjamin W. Farley [Grand Rapids: Baker, 1982], 30.)

Unfortunately, this kind of language was par for the course in Reformation times. George again: “Caspar Schwenckfeld, one of the spiritualist reformers, observed that on the basis of the Bible “the papists damn the Lutherans, the Lutherans damn the Zwinglians, the Zwinglians damn the Anabaptists, and the Anabaptists damn all of the others” (Kindle Locations 3772-3774).

Given this cacophony of cursing, Calvin’s “quote” above sounds very believable. Hopefully we today can be better listeners and kinder speakers.


 

  1. Witmer, Dallas. “Working With God in Columbia.” Alight, Vol. 27, No. 4. October, November, December 2014. Christian Light Publications. This article was referenced in the January 2015 Calvary Messenger, where Ronald J. Miller emphasizes most of the same points I quote here.
  2. I have contacted this blogger, but so far have not received a response.

Save page