Justin Martyr’s Second Apology

Justin’s Second Apology, while shorter than the first, offers no less food for thought than his first offering.  The brief time it would take to read this letter will more than reward the reader.

Justin begins again with the charge that Christians are unjustly condemned simply for bearing the name “Christians” while their upright lives are never taken into consideration.  He again appeals (this time to the Roman Senate) to common sense and justice in asking why it is permissible for the Christians to be persecuted thus while men who live wicked lives are celebrated by the Romans.  “But would that even now,” writes Justin, “some one would mount a lofty rostrum, and shout with a loud voice, ‘Be ashamed, be ashamed, ye who charge the guiltless with those deeds which yourselves openly commit, and ascribe things which apply to yourselves and your gods to those who have not even the slightest sympathy with them.  Be ye converted; become wise” (ch.12).

In a moving passage, Justin reveals that he “too, therefore, expect[s] to be plotted against and fixed to the stake” like so many of his brothers and sisters in Christ.  He scoffs at the charge, leveled by Crescens and others, that “the Christians are atheists.”

In this Apology, Justin further developes the idea of Christ (the Logos) as “the whole rational being” (ch.10).  In fact, the reason exercised by pre-Christian philosophers is itself attributed to Christ, for no man, according to Justin, has ever been able to use his reason except that Christ was “partially known” even by the pagans.  “For each man spoke,” Justin tells us, “well in proportion to the share he had of the spermatic word, seeing what was related to it” (ch.13).  This leads Justin to declare all truth as God’s truth, and thus the property of God’s people:  “Whatever things were rightly said among all men, are the property of us Christians” (ch.13).

As I say, this is a brief work, but not unimportant.  Justin’s thoughts on the nature of truth are especially worthy of consideration.

Justin Martyr’s First Apology

With Justin Martyr’s First Apology, adressed to the Emperor of Rome and his son, Christian writing enters a new phase.  Justin has been called “the founder of theological literature,” and one senses in reading him that there is a depth and theological stridency here that we’ve yet to encounter (quite like this) before.

Justin was a philosopher and it could rightly be said that he came to Jesus through Plato.  He offers a powerful apology for the Christian faith in this work that, while not without its problems, cannot help but fire the soul of the modern reader.  Furthermore, Justin offers some tantalizing insights into early Christian life that are quite important and controversial to this very day.

Justin appeals to his recipients’ reason (Caesar’s son is “Verissimus the Philosopher”) when he lampoons the crude and mindless persecution of the Christians simply because they bear the name Christian.  He appeals to a sense of justice by asking whether or not the Christians ought not be persecuted when they behave as bad men worthy of punishment, not when they are simply men and women who bear the name.  Of course, the crux of the matter for Justin is that the Christians are not bad men.  They are good and they live good lives.  This fact is all the more exasperating to Justin (and it’s a theme we find elsewhere among the fathers as well) because it piles ignorance onto cruelty.

Interestingly (and movingly), Justin is so sure of the good behavior of the Christians that he consents to the persecution of any who use that name but don’t live their lives in harmony with Christian principles:  “And to those who are not living pursuant to these His teachings, and are Christians only in name, we demand that all such be punished by you.”  One cannot help but wonder what would happen if such a policy were enacted against our churches today!

Justin clearly sees the faith through eyes trained in Greek philosophy, and he uses this in his argument without reservation.  For example, he writes in ch.5, “For not only among the Greeks did reason (Logos) prevail to condemn these things through Socrates, but also among the Barbarians were they condemnded by Reason (or the Word, the Logos) Himself, who took shape, and became man, and was called Jesus Christ…”  We see here the much controverted, supposed Hellenization of theology, an issue that is argued about to this very day.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at Justin’s condemnation of the political mindset of the day:  “But just so much power have rulers who esteem opinion more than truth, as robbers have in a desert.”  Nothing really ever changes, does it?

We begin to see a strong sexual aestheticism in Justin.  In ch.15 he notes that “many, both men and women, who have been Christ’s disciples from childhood, remain pure at the age of sixty or seventy years; and I boast that I could produce such from every race of men.”  And in ch.29:  “But whether we marry, it is only that we may bring up children; or whether we decline marriage, we live continently.”

It is hard to calculate the damage that such a mindset has wrought in and out of the church over the ages.  The denigration of sex as inherently impure, and of the act of sex in marriage only for procreation has arguably wreaked havoc over the ages in the Christian understanding of marriage and the marital relationship.  I do not suggest, of course, that this originated with Justin, but it begins to surface in his writings in ways that it has not heretofore.

In this First Apology we find the fascinating suggestion that heathen mythology is simply the reworking of prophetic truth by demonic forces into tales designed to confuse human beings.  In other words, Justin argues that the demons took the truths of Moses and the prophets and crafted the myths of man out of their raw material in an effort to deceive and confuse (ch.LIV).

We also find an intriguing description of baptism in the early Christian community in ch.LXI.  I’ll no doubt be accused of eisegesis for this, but Justin appears to know nothing of infant baptism.  To be sure, his description of the subjects of baptism (though not necessarily the operation of it) sounds like it could have been written in Nashville:  “I will also relate the manner in which we dedicated ourselves to God when we had been made new through Christ…As many as are persuaded and believe that what we teach and say is true, and undertake to be able to live accordingly, are instructed to pray and to entreat God with fasting, for the remission of their sins that are past, we praying and fasting with them.  Then they are brought by us where there is water, and are regenerated in the same manner in which we were ourselves regenerated.”

I suppose and advocate for infant baptism would point out that Justin is speaking of the baptism of converts here, and is silent on the question of the baptism of the children of those within the church.  But note that Justin goes on to speak of baptism as an aspect of awakening in knowledge and understanding:  “And for this [rite] we have learned from the apostles this reason.  Since at our birth we were born without our own knowledge or choice, by our parents coming together, and were brought up in bad habits and wicked training; in order that we may not remain the children of necessity and of ignorance, but may become the children of choice and knowledge, and may obtain in the water the remission of sins formerly committed, there is pronounced over him who chooses to be born again, and has repented of his sins, the name of God the Father and Lord of the universe; he who leads to the laver the person that is to be washed calling him by this name alone.”

It also needs to be pointed out, contra Baptists, that Justin clearly holds to some form of baptismal regeneration.

There is also a strong Eucharistic statement in Justin’s Apology:  “And this food is called among us [the Eucharist], of which no one is allowed to partake but the man who believes that the things which we teach are true, and who has been washed with the washing that is for the remission of sin, and unto regeneration, and who is so living as Christ enjoined” (ch.LXVI).  We also find here the interesting observations that the deacons distribute the elements and that the eucharist was observed, seemingly, at each gathering of the church.

Fragments of Papias

The Fragments of Papias are bound to fascinate the modern reader!  Papias lived roughly from the end of the first to the middle of the second century and recorded the thoughts of those who had personally known the disciples.  Only fragments of his five-volume work remain, and not many of these.  What does remain, however, is enthralling.

Papias explains in Fragment I that, “If…anyone who had attended on the elders came, I asked minutely after their sayings, what Andrew or Peter said, or what was said by Philip, or by Thomas, or by James, or by John, or by Matthew, or by any other of the Lord’s disciples: which thing Aristion and the presbyter John, the disciples of the Lord, say.  For I imagined that what was to be got from books was not so profitable to me as what came from the living and abiding voice.”

We find this odd observation in Fragment III: “Judas walked about in this world a sad example of impiety; for his body having swollen to such an extent that he could not pass where a chariot could pass easily, he was crushed by the chariot, so that his bowels gushed out.”

There’s a Trinitarian statement in Fragment V: “…and that, moreover, they ascend through the Spirit to the Son, and through the Son to the Father…”  And Eusebius passes on Papias’ idea of a personal millennial reign of Christ on the earth but interestingly groups this among Papias’ claims that were “of a more fabulous nature.”

Here, too, we find (at the end of Fragment VI) the earliest reference to Mark as the interpreter of Peter: “Mark having become the interpreter of Peter, wrote down accurately whatsoever he remembered.  It was not, however, in exact order that he related the sayings or deeds of Christ.  For he neither heard the Lord nor accompanied Him.  But afterwards, as I said, he accompanied Peter, who accommodated his instructions to the necessities [of his hearers], but with no intention of giving a regular narrative of the Lord’s sayings.  Wherefore Mark made no mistake in thus writing some things as he remembered them.  For of one thing he took especial care, not to omit anything he had heard, and not to put anything fictitious into the statements.”  Note, too, Papias’ defense of the style and arrangement of Mark’s gospel.

To be sure, what we have in the Fragments of Papias are second and third-hand reports, but they are precious indeed and have had an impact on how we understand the original disciples as well as the transmission of Scripture.

The Epistle of Barnabas

The Epistle of Barnabas is an odd and frustrating letter.  The author’s intent is primarily to show Christ’s fulfillment of various Old Testament passages, images, and types.  He does this by employing allegory and numerology in ways that will likely tax the modern reader.  There are quasi-Gnostic overtones in his appeal to secret knowledge which is appealed to as an evidentiary key to the allegorical interpretations (i.e., “No one has been admitted by me to a more excellent piece of knowledge than this, but I know that ye are worthy.” [ch.6]) and possibly in the light/dark motif as well (chs.19 & 20).

To be sure, this kind of thing is burdensome on this side of the Enlightenment, though we have no doubt traded one set of errors for another in the opposite direction.  (Note as well that I am not trying to laugh off the entire allegorical enterprise.  It is an interesting and complex question that posseses two extremes…like most other complex questions!  The allegorical eisegesis in The Epistle of Barnabas, however, seems forced.)

Furthermore, there are various translation issues with the epistle that make it, at times, difficult to navigate and understand.  The modern reader is also likely to find the epistle’s not-infrequent use of apocryphal writings to be challenging.

There are occasional moments of inspiration, I think.  “Take heed,” the author tells us near the end of chapter 4, “lest resting at our ease, as those who are the called [of God], we should fall asleep in our sins, and the wicked prince, acquiring power over us, should thrust us away from the kingdom of the Lord” (p.139).

I found this sentence from chapter 6 strangely moving:  “For man is earth in a suffering state, for the formation of Adam was from the face of the earth” (p.140).  “Earth in a suffering state” indeed.  Also, the discussion of belief and baptism in chapter 11 is quite interesting and thought provoking.

Finally, the modern reader will likely be interested in the epistle’s condemnation of abortion in chapter 19:  “Thou shalt not slay the child by procuring abortion; nor, again, shalt thou destroy it after it is born” (p.148).  Likewise, chapter 20:  “…who are murderers of children, destroyers of the workmanship of God” (p.149).

Altogether, this is an interesting and deeply flawed epistle that is equal parts useful and useless.

Mark Dever’s What Is A Healthy Church

Mark Dever’s What Is A Healthy Church? is an intriguing summation of his Nine Marks of a Healthy Church that will encourage and convict the reader concerning his or her attitudes about the Church.  At least, I found that to be the case personally.

I’m familiar with Dever’s thoughts and, on the whole, I’m a fan.  He has done tremendous work towards calling churches back to a biblically-based and Christ-honoring way of approaching and “doing” church.  If you are not familiar with 9 Marks Ministries, you really should acquaint yourself with what Dever is doing there.

Dever wants us to take Church seriously.  I did cringe at his opening paragraph where he recounts his custom of telling groups he speaks to that if they are not faithfully engaged with a local church they may be going to hell.  This is clearly a rhetorical device that he qualifies and clarifies as he goes along, but, for some reason, I did not like it.

I suppose that some might try to accuse Dever of ecclesiolatry, but they would be a mistaken.  It is true that Dever has an intense interest in the Church, but that is because Jesus has an intense interest in His bride.  What interests Him should interest us.  Furthermore, as a Southern Baptist, Dever is more than aware of the ecclesiological crisis gripping our denomination.  The very idea of “church” needs to be rescued in the Southern Baptist Convention.

In this work, Dever wants to argue against the idea of churchless Christianity, a notion that the New Testament knows nothing at all about.  This will sound odd and possibly offensive to Americanized Lone Ranger Christians, but is thoroughly biblical and it is absolutely crucial.

Dever makes the crucial point that while the local church should not be confused with the Church universal, the local church seeks to emulate, as closely as possible, the realities of the universal Church in its own congregational life.  This emulation includes calling for a regenerate church membership, a covenanted church membership, and, above all, a membership founded on the gospel.

The summary of the nine marks that Dever closes the book with would be a great introduction to those unfamiliar with Dever’s work and a helpful reminder for those who are familiar with it.  Either way, you are bound to find this work thought-provoking and challenging.  You may not agree with all of Dever’s arguments, but I daresay you will have trouble denying the core of it:  that the body of Christ is important and that it ought to reflect faithfulness to the mandates of the Word of God and fidelity to the Church’s Groom.

Leo Tolstoy’s The Death of Ivan Ilyich

A book about the untimely death of a fairly shallow Russian gentleman seems an unlikely story to become engrossed in while on vacation in picturesque Dahlonega, GA, but this is exactly what happened to my wife and me while I finished reading this powerful little story to her up here in north Georgia.

Let me just go ahead and make the following declaration:  everybody…everybody should read The Death of Ivan Ilyich.

Written during Tolstoy’s own spiritual crisis (the Introduction by Ronald Blythe that discusses the events surrounding the writing of this story is worth the price of the book itself), the story represents Tolstoy’s own struggle to come to terms with death, and all of the spiritual and psychological realities that one’s awareness of the inevitibility of death brings.

The story is fairly straight forward.  It’s the story of a man working to get ahead and struggling through a fairly bad marriage (thanks largely to his own selfishness and egocentricity).  In the midst of a fairly nondescript and secular life, Ivan Ilyich bumps his side on a piece of furniture.  He doesn’t think much of it, until a few days later when it begins to hurt.  As time progresses, it hurts more and more, until Ilyich comes to realize that something is seriously wrong.

As it turns out, Ilyich is dying.  Throughout this process, he comes to hate almost everybody around him:  his wife (who he thinks wants him to die), the doctors (who’s glibness and formulaic diagnoses irritate him immensely), and, most significantly, God (Who he questions and accuses concerning the fairness of what’s happening to him).  The only person who’s presence he truly cares for is a servant boy who does not seek to dishonor Ilyich by denying what’s really going.  “We all have to die,” he essentially says, thereby becoming the first person to say aloud what everybody knows.

To be honest, I was growing discouraged with this book for a time.  Was this merely going to be a tale of untimely death and man’s vain attempt to make sense of it?  Fortunately for the reader, this is not the case.  In fact, the last couple of chapters are worth their weight in gold.

Ilyich begins to be haunted by the notion that perhaps he wasted his life and did not really live at all.  When the thought first occurs to him, he dismisses it as a possibility:  as in, “Whatever the cause of my anxiety might be, it just can’t be that I really missed the whole point of life altogether.”

He dismisses, in essence, the need for repentance in the exact same way that human beings do so today.  “What? I got it all wrong?  Well, that just cannot be the case!  My misery must be for some other reason.”

But then his wife recommends that Ilyich take the sacrament.  He seems offended at first, but then relents.  He partakes of Holy Communion.

Interestingly, after partaking of the broken body and spilled blood of Christ, Ilyich suffers for three days.  His physical pain is agonizing.  He has been pierced in the side, and he descends into hell, as it were.  But in his last moments, he seems to have an epiphany.  Suddenly he sees it.  Suddenly he understands.  He apologizes to his wife through halting, agonizing words: short bursts of sound, not unlike the seven last words of Christ.

Then he says, “Forget.”  But Tolstoy tells us that what he meant to say was “Forgive.”  The slip causes Ilyich no anxiety, because he is convinced that “He” will understand.

It is a powerful and moving scene.  It reminded me of old man Brideshead’s conversion near the end ofBrideshead Revisited, but in this case, we are Charles Ryder.  That is, we are the ones observing the scene and praying and hoping that the dying man will do it, will repent, will see it for what it is.

It also reminded me of Levin’s epiphany near the end of Anna Karenina, though throughout that story the reader feels that Levin is so very, very close that it’s almost inevitable.  In this story, we are pleasantly surprised to see Ilyich come to his moment of clarity, but there was no evidence earlier on in the story that he would finally do so.

As I say, everyone should read this story.  It draws us into a deathbed epiphany in a way that confronts us with the most profound question of all:  have we wasted our lives?  Are we wasting it now, today, right here where we are?

Tolstoy has done us the great service of showing us how to die in peace:  realize what is truly important, repent of our sin and selfishness, and know that, in Him, we will find a welcome that transcends our own foolishness.

Thom Rainer, Daniel Akin, Chuck Lawless, Jeff Iorg, Jerry Rankin’s Great Commission Resurgence

Where do we go in the post-resurgence Southern Baptist Convention?  It is a question of no small import to America’s largest Protestant denomination.  After the cataclysmic (relatively speaking, of course) events of “The Controversy”, the Convention now finds itself looking for direction.  Various groups within the Convention seem to be pointing this way, that, or the other.  Yet the most intriguing call, and the call that would seem to have the greatest possibility of uniting the Convention, is the call for a “Great Commission Resurgence.”

To this end, LifeWay has published an interesting manifesto (of sorts) with an introduction by Thom Rainer (President, LifeWay Christian Resources), an essay entitled “Answering the Call to a Great Commission Resurgence” by Daniel Akin (President, Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary), an essay entitled “The Great Commission and the Local Church” by Chuck Lawless (Dean, Billy Graham School of Missions, Evangelism & Church Growth, The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary), an essay entitled “Accelerating the Great Commission in North America” by Jeff Iorg (President, Golden Gate Seminary), and an essay entitled “The Great Commission and International Missions” by Jerry Rankin (President, International Mission Board).  Together, these pieces constitute a clarion call for Southern Baptists to return to the Great Commission heartbeat that drove the Convention in her greatest moments and needs to drive her again today.

In Thom Rainer’s Introduction, he bemoans the current direction of too many of our churches:

 

“Instead of sin being an affront to a holy God, it has become a term to describe falling short of reaching one’s potential; instead of the cross being a place where God graciously bridged the gap to save sinners, it is being belittled as evidence of divine child abuse; instead of receiving salvation through unmerited grace, grace has become a term to describe God’s rewarding of individuals for reaching personal growth milestones; instead of Christ being THE way to peace with God, we hear too often tha all roads lead to God” (p.8).

 

Rainer’s response to this sad condition?  Realize that “people are open to the gospel” (p.10), appreciate the gains achieved through the Conservative Resurgence, but understand that “total biblical fidelity requires more than a cognitive agreement on the parts and the sum of the Bible.  True fidelity requires obedience as well” (p.12).  When we are obedient to God’s Great Commission call “the resurgence will have taken its full course” (p.12).

Danny Akin next dilineates seven areas of agreement among the different Convention sub-groups: (1) agreement as to a common confession of faith (BF&M 2000), (2) agreement on the inerrancy, infallibility and sufficiency of the Bible, (3) agreement on the necessity of a regenerate church, (4) agreement on the exclusivity of the gospel, (5) agreement on the sinfulness and lostness of humanity apart from Christ, (6) agreement that salvation is by grace alone through faith alone in Christ alone, and (7) agreement that the Great Commission is a divinely mandated assignment given to the church by the Lord Jesus.

One does wonder what the three-year struggle for the adoption of a resolution on integrity in church membership means for number 3, but, yes, it too is now, at least on paper, a point of agreement once again for Southern Baptists.

Akin then goes on to articulate five “needs” for coming together in a Great Commission resurgence:  (1) a sound theology, (2) letting biblical theology drive and determine our systematic theology, (3) a revival of authentic expository preaching, (4) the balance of a Great Commission theology, and (5) love and respect for each other (pp.19-23).

After describing some common truths that arise from studying Great Comission churches, Chuck Lawless offers some proposed “steps in reigniting a Great Commission passion in the local church” (p.31).  These include:  (1) Leaders, take the lead, (2) Select a Great Commission prayer team, (3) Honestly evaluate the numbers, (4) Teach again the truths of the gospel, (5) Invest first in a few believers, (6) Get ready to disciple new believers, (7) Teach children and students about the Great Commission, (8) Commission your church members to be missionaries, (9) Learn to celebrate God’s work, and (10) Do not give up on the local church.

Jeff Iorg offers two “theological foundations” for future success:  (1) affirm the gospel, without equivocation and (2) celebrate the church, without hesitation (pp.38-39).  He then encourages us to humble ourselves and seek God’s power, deploy believers through infiltration strategies, learn to communicate with secular people, and affirm methodological pluralism.

Finally, Jerry Rankin wants us to have an accurate understanding of the immensity of the task before us.  There are countless unreached people in the world and our mission successes as a whole are not enough.  “Southern Baptists have taken pride in now having more than 5,000 international missionaries,” he tells us.  “But that number represents less than three-tenths of one percent of our church membership” (p.61).

Taken as a whole, this powerful little collection of essays is impressive for the amount of content, motivational force, biblical exegesis, and practical suggestions that are actually contained therein.  The writing is tinged with genuine passion (most evidently seen, I think, in the essays by Akin, Iorg, and Rankin) and common sense practicalities (Rainer and Lawless).  All of the contributors are genuinely concerned about our undeniable drift from Great Commission conviction and yearn to see a wholesale return to a biblical, balanced, and stalwart enactment of our Lord’s clear instructions.

And so we must finally ask the crucial question:  are they right?  Is the way forward for the Convention a “Great Commisssion Resurgence”?  As for myself, I would like to register a resounding “Yes!”

We are in danger of becoming inwardly fixated and self-absorbed.  And yet, Great Commission faithfulness must not merely be seen as a denominational corrective.  It rests in the very heart of God Himself, and so our faithfulness to His commands are truly faithful to God.

So let us have a “Great Commission Resurgence.”  Let us pray for it, labor it, and model it in our own lives.  Only then will we truly become all that God has called us to be.

Jon M. Sweeney’s Almost Catholic

And all of God’s people said…”UGHHH!”  So help me, I tried.  I really, really tried.  But I only got through 39 pages of this book before I concluded that I had reached the point of diminishing returns.  The weird thing about it is, I have a really high tolerance for pain when it comes to reading books.  I can sludge through books that no human being should have to sludge through just because I hate starting a book and not finishing it.  But Mr. Sweeney is to be commended for breaking me of that habit once and for all.

I was fascinating by the description of this book and I picked it up because I do appreciate many elements of ancient, liturgical worship.  Thanks to Steve Harmon and D.H. Williams and a few others, I believe that catholicity is admirable and necessary and ought to be explored.  In other words, I was prepared to appreciate this book even when I knew I’d likely disagree with some of the things in it.

But I was not prepared, frankly, for the postmodern buzz words that were delivered in a such a way that you would think some angry fundamentalist had written them in an effort to caricature postmodernism.  I, for one, think that the conservative critique of postmodernity is often (but not always, mind you) wrongheaded and shallow.  But then I read the first 39 pages of this book and realized that maybe the caricatures do, indeed, exist.

Let me just share a few of Sweeney’s comments:

“I’ve never been a big fan of religious authority, especially not when it is made out to be the stuff of foundational or even propositional truth – as if following Christ is impossible without first believing or doing this or that or the other thing.” (p.5)

“The way we believe or don’t believe in the propositions of religion is entirely different from faith.” (p.7)

“I make the assumption that tradition and scripture are equally important.” (p.14)

“I don’t seek Truth with a capital T.” (p.18)

“Also, I think that Christians today are beginning to accept that notknowing is actually essential to faith.” (p.18)

“To look at faith through the lens of belief is to be stuck in some sort of rationalism that makes little sense today.” (p.19)

“Many of us today acknowledge that we live in a new era – some call itpostmodernity – in which propositional truth, certainty, and even papal infallibility play the same sort of smaller role in a spiritual life that they played in the pre-modern worldview.  We decide what is true in different ways.” (p.21)

and finally

“But my spiritual life is not ready for any conclusions, at least not yet.” (p.21)

And that’s just the first 21 pages!  It gets worse over the next 18.

A couple of ironies:  Sweeney likes Flannery O’Connor.  Flannery O’Connor!  She’s one of my favorite writers and she understood things better than most.  The irony here is that anybody who’s read Flannery O’Connor can imagine what she would think of the drivel being served up by Sweeney here.

Finally, it is odd for a man who doesn’t believe in propositional truth to write an entire book full of propositions, isn’t it?  It’s the irony of all these exercises in not-knowing.  You’ve got to know a lot to be able to convince folks we can’t know and you’ve got to say a lot to convince folks that we can’t really say anything.

Anyway, I don’t know.  Read this thing if you want.  Just email me and I’ll mail you my copy.

Millard Erickson’s Making Sense of the Trinity

So Mrs. Richardson and Miss Richardson are out of town for the weekend and it’s just me and London (the dog) sitting at home staring at each other.  She’s staring at me with her fascinating underbite and bulging eyeballs, and I begin to think to myself, “Self, what shall we do?”  Then it hits me!  Of course!  Let’s knock out some Trinitarian theology!

So I grab Millard Erickson’s Making Sense of the Trinity: Three Crucial Questions and commence to read what turns out to be a tremendous and clear-sighted handling of the Trinity that frankly left me sad when it was all over.  This is one of those books that actually gets better as it goes along.

Many a seminary student knows the name Millard Erickson.  His Christian Theology (along with Wayne Grudem’s) pretty much dominates the evangelical seminary scene (or at least the Baptist expressions of it).  Through this work, and a whole host of smaller works such as Making Sense of the Trinity, Erickson has established himself as one of those solid, trustworthy, go-to guys that you might not always agree with on every detail but you know will never fail to teach you something.  Erickson taught for a while at Southwestern, then down at Truett, I think.  I believe he’s retired now.

This is a fantastic book that would serve as a great introduction to the Trinity for anybody looking for a good place to make a start.  Erickson explores the biblical basis for the Trinity and concludes that while it is not explicitly taught in Scripture it is implicitly and consistently taught.  His handling of possible Old Testament Trinitarian passages was solid and careful.  He avoids eisegesis, a problem for Christians seeking to find vestiges of the Trinity in the Old Testament, but nonetheless points out some fascinating instances of Old Testament texts that may well have been pointing to what the Church would come to understand as the Trinity.

His handling of the New Testament data was extremely helpful and thorough for such a small book.  He shows New Testament evidence, for instance, that the writers and the early believers viewed each person of the Trinity as divine and, in some sense, viewed them as three-in-one.

Other features of this text that I found helpful were Erickson’s very helpful discussion of perichoresis (which he seems to embrace and highly value) and his discussion of the practical implications of the Trinity.  His handling of the question of Christ’s subordination to the Father and whether or not that subordination applies only to Christ’s earthly incarnate state or applies to the Son from eternity past to eternity future was very helpful.  That’s a hot issue in the whole egalitarian/complementarian debate.  While Erickson doesn’t address that particular debate, he argues for incarnational subordination but, through the idea of perichoresis, stresses the eternal unity and equality of each person.  He argues that it’s very difficult to hold to eternal subordination (a term that advocates of this position would reject) without slipping into an idea of the Son as inferior.

As I say, Erickson is a trustworthy voice and one worth heeding.  This little book would be a great place to start.

Timothy George and Eric F. Mason’s (eds.) Theology in the Service of the Church

I cannot express how very enjoyable and informative I personally found this impressive collection of essays.  Edited by Timothy George and Eric F. Mason,Theology in the Service of the Church is a unique and eclectic collection that will challenge, educate, and inspire the reader.  This Festschrift was presented to Fisher Humphreys on the occasion of his retirement from The Beeson Divinity School,

I felt that the strongest essays in the book were Curtis Freeman’s “Back to the Future of Trinitarianism?”, Steve Harmon’s “Remembering the Ecclesial Future: Why the Church Needs Theology”, Stephen J. Duffy’s “That They May All Be One: The Unity That is Ours and Not Ours”, and especially Ralph Wood’s “Jesus Thrown Everything Off Balance: Emily Dickinson, William Faulkner, and Flannery O’Connor on the Necessity of Christian Radicalism in the Study of Literature.”

I thought this last essay was tremendous.  I was thrilled to see Wood’s opinion that “the non-Christian writer whose work retains overwhelming, even transformative, power is William Faulkner” (p.210).  I agree 100% and was glad to see that maybe I’m not crazy after all!  (I oftentimes tell my wife that I think Faulkner understood the Church better than most who are actually in the Church.)  Wood’s treatment of Faulkner’s work was very insightful, and his handling of O’Connor’s short story, “The Misfit,” helped me see that troubling little story in a new light.

Freeman’s essay on the Trinity was likewise very helpful and very good.  I thought some of his anecdotal observations about the disappearance of Trinitarian thought from Baptist life were especially interesting and troubling.

Fr. Stephen J. Duffy’s article on ecumenism and unity was fascinating.  Coming from a Catholic perspective, Duffy’s thought was occasionally foreign to me, but this essay was, I thought, one of the most thought-provoking pieces in the book.  I did learn a new term: perennem reformationem (continual reform).  I was also introduced to a concept I had never heard before: namely the existence of Protestant affirmations of the potential for the Bishop of Rome to offer the greatest possibility of ecumenical reform should appropriate reforms be allowed to reshape that office.  I’m not up on ecumenical speech, but this struck me as a frankly odd and virtually impossible idea.

In all, a tremendous collection of essays.  Check it out.