Category Archives: Church History

Help! The Earth Is Melting! (Or Is It?)

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In 1616 the Catholic Church condemned the views of Copernicus for taking the radical scientific view that the Earth revolved around the sun. Against precise mathematical calculations and empirical data, the church based their dogmatic rejection on the “clear” reading of Scripture, theology, and experience. Case closed. The Catholic Church wasn’t alone in resisting the Copernican revolution. Luther is reported to have said in response to news about Copernicus’s new theory, “Whoever wants to be clever must agree with nothing that others esteem. He must do something of his own. This is what that fellow does who wishes to turn the whole of astronomy upside down. Even in these things that are thrown into disorder I believe the Holy Scriptures, for Joshua commanded the sun to stand still and not the earth.”

Within a couple generations the conservative, Bible-believing Christians—Catholic and Protestant—had to swallow their pride and admit that Copernicus—that rascal!—was right. And in 1999 the Pope even apologized . . . sort of.

Fast forward a century or so. In the midst of the liberal political and religious philosophies of English gentlemen like John Locke, a new concept of tolerationism, pluralism, and democracy began to gain support. The problem, of course, was the absolute, divinely-ordained rule of the King of England and other monarchs. The conservative theologians defended the divine right of the Monarchy and appealed to Scripture and theology to denounce the liberal philosophies churning in the colonies. The political conservatives found themselves on the side of the King—and of political philosophers like Thomas Hobbes. “Liberals” like Thomas Jefferson and George Washington rejected the doctrine of divine monarchy in favor of a concept of divinely-endowed inalienable individual rights (which, on last check, still cannot be found in the Bible).

Within a couple generations, however, the liberal political philosophy of Locke and Jefferson became the fabric of American patriotism and were suddenly found to be in perfect agreement with the revelation of Scripture. In fact, those liberals are now regarded as our conservative Christian forefathers!

A hundred years later conservative Christians appealed to the Bible to battle a new threat to social and religious order—the movement among “liberal” New England Congregationalists toward emancipation of the slaves and abolition of slavery. The conservatives appealed to the sanctioning of slavery in Scripture (both in the Old and New Testaments) as proof that the progressive movement to free the slaves was unbiblical. Denominations split over the issue—Northern and Southern Baptists; Northern and Southern Methodists . . . both sides appealing to Scripture, but the “progressive” or “liberal” view sounded the radical cries for freedom.

Within a couple generations the conservatives began reading those passages in the Bible differently and the evils of modern slavery were finally seen for what they really were: evil.

A century later the civil rights movements in the United States were spearheaded by liberals—religious and social progressives who were attacked by conservatives who appealed to a diverse line of arguments to defend institutional and corporate bigotry and hate: the distinction between Jews and Gentiles . . . Old Testament laws regarding foreigners and women . . . “clear” passages of Scripture that forbade women to even speak in church . . . the curse of Ham . . . the biblical principle of social order and peace. All of these were part of the conservatives’ arsenal against liberals who wanted justice and equality. Sadly, conservative evangelical colleges and seminaries were slow to admit women and minorities into programs for theological training.

Within a couple generations the conservatives came to regret their policies and actions and the narrow, bigoted way they read God’s Word in favor of their own misguided agendas.

As you can see, conservative Christians may have a great track record of preserving and defending the fundamental marks of orthodox doctrine, but they have a disturbing history of missing the mark on many scientific and social issues. Not all, of course, but some. They were critical and wicked when they should have been supportive and righteous (as in the case of slavery and civil rights). Or they were foolish and extreme when they should have been prudent and wise (as in the case of Y2K or the “New Order” conspiracy theories about the end of the world).

This brings me to my point.

What issues today are conservative Christians going to regret in fifty years? Will our children or grandchildren shake their heads and cluck their tongues at some of the things we evangelicals took a firm stand against? Or will they be embarrassed about some of the things we enthusiastically promoted? Some things, of course, we must stand against (heresy and sin) and some things we must promote (sound theology and morality). These things have never changed and have always been under attack. These things we have always defended and never regretted. (Though, of course, we may reg0ret the unloving, un-Christlike ways in which we promoted and defended the truth.)

But what about, say, global warming? Seriously, what do most evangelical Christians and conservative Republicans really know about the science of global warming? What qualifies right-wing talk show hosts to objectively sift through scientific data and determine that it’s all bunk? And why do evangelical Christians allow big businesses, ritzy politics, and glorified DJs to lead them around by their noses?

I’m no scientist. I honestly can’t tell you one way or the other if Al Gore, the Democrats, and all those Scandinavian scientists are right about the world “melting.” But as a historian of Christianity, I can tell you one thing for sure: when it comes to issues other than classic orthodoxy and Christlike morality, we conservatives have a rich and interesting history of being found on the wrong side.

There’s nothing biblically, theologically, or rationally unsound about the idea of global warming. (Unless you say the whole earth is going to flood.) In fact, with my dim view of humanity, I’d almost expect us to be destroying ourselves and our world through greed, selfishness, laziness, ignorance, and apathy. Just take a look at people’s eating habits at fast food restaurants and tell me these same fallen humans wouldn’t melt the planet rather than give up their SUVs. Again, I have no idea if the world is warming. I hope not. But I’m not going to be one of those people my grandchildren point to and say, “Why was grandpa such a dumb Christian?”

Heliocentrism . . . divine monarchy . . . slavery . . . civil rights. Next time you dismiss the possibility of global warming as loony poppycock or liberal propaganda, run this list through your mind. Then use that same mind for the reason God gave it: to think. I don’t know if climate change scientists and global warming advocates are off their rockers. Maybe they are jumping to conclusions. Maybe not. Maybe they’re more right than wrong. Or maybe they’re off their rockers. But then again, Copernicus, Locke, Lincoln, and MLK, Jr. all appeared to be a little “off” in their own days, didn’t they? So, until the issues of global warming and man-made climate change is thoroughly explored, debated, and settled, I’m going to suspend judgment. And unless you’re God or a purely objective scientist who can perfectly and simultaneously process all the data and guarantee a right answer . . . you best shut up, too.

10 Reasons to Learn Church History (Part 2 of 10)

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WhyRC2“Why would twenty-first century Christians—who can read the Bible for themselves and attend Bible-believing churches—need to study Church History?”

2. Learning church history will curb the arrogance of our present.

Some evangelicals could very well define “church history” as “the study of how everybody misinterpreted the Bible until we came along.” In fact, on several occasions I’ve heard people actually say, “I don’t care if I’m the first person in history to read the Bible this way. If that’s what Scripture says, then I’m going to accept it.” We should admire this confidence in Scripture, but that statement places a lot of unquestioned confidence in one’s own abilities to properly interpret the Bible. Don’t get me wrong. I believe in the sufficiency of Scripture, but I don’t believe in the sufficiency of self. The kind of arrogance that makes a person completely abandon the contributions from the past is what C. S. Lewis called “chronological snobbery,” which he defined as “the uncritical acceptance of the intellectual climate common to our own age and the assumption that whatever has gone out of date is on that account discredited. You must find why it went out of date. Was it ever refuted (and if so by whom, where, and how conclusively) or did it merely die away as fashions do? If the latter, this tells us nothing about its truth or falsehood.” (C. S. Lewis, Surprised by Joy: The Shape of My Early Life [San Diego: Harcourt Brace & Company, 1955], 207–8)

Grown men often look back over their lives and reflect on how far they’ve come and the progress they’ve made throughout. But poet Thomas S. Jones presents the opposite perspective: what if the younger version of me were to peer forward and see what kind of person I have become? He mused:

Across the fields of yesterday

    He sometimes comes to me,

A little lad just back from play—

    The lad I used to be.

And yet he smiles so wistfully

    Once he has crept within,

I wonder he still hopes to see

    The man I might have been.

Those words haunt me. I often wonder what the bygone generations of Christianity might think if they could peer “across the fields of yesterday” and see what had become of the faith for which they lived and died. I constantly ask myself, “If the church fathers or Protestant Reformers were to show up at my church, would they worship . . . or run?” Sometimes I see such a pitch of “chronological snobbery” in many of our avant-garde churches that I wonder if we would purposely drive them off . . . then brag about having done so!

Studying church history will help evangelicals understand their place in church history. It will help them see that their particular church tradition—with all its idiosyncrasies—is a flawed but valid part of something much bigger than themselves. They will realize that their present form of Christianity is itself a period that will one day be left in the distant past. They will be humbled by the moving testimonies, passionate ministries, and sacrificial devotion of the saints of old. The result? Church history will curb the arrogance of our present.

10 Reasons to Learn Church History (Part 1 of 10)

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ancient path 3“Why would twenty-first century Christians—who can read the Bible for themselves and attend Bible-believing churches—need to study Church History?”

I’ve heard this kind of question phrased a number of ways over the years. Sometimes people ask it with a tone of sincere curiosity: Isn’t the Bible sufficient for all matters of faith and practice? Are those people from church history even relevant to our modern world? What can they tell us that isn’t already in the Bible for anybody with eyes to see and ears to hear?

Other times people ask with a tone of incredulity—even hostility: Won’t dwelling in the past keep us from looking to the future? Isn’t it dangerous to read all those Roman Catholics? Didn’t the church fall away from the Bible soon after the apostles? Don’t we believe in Scripture ALONE as the source of our theology?

As a professor of theology who has consciously injected a large dose of historical reflection into my biblical, doctrinal, and practical instruction, I’ve found it necessary to ready myself with a number of important reasons for looking into the rearview mirror of church history as we seek to drive forward into the future. I’d like to share with you ten reasons why every Bible-believing Christian should not merely give church history an occasional nod of respect, but embrace it as a critical component of a wise, balanced Christian life and ministry.

1. Learning church history will cure our ignorance of the past.  

Too many evangelicals are walking around in a constant state of what we might call duja vé. No, not déja vu—you know what that is: the odd feeling that this has happened before. Duja vé, on the other hand, is just the opposite: it’s that nagging feeling that none of this has ever happened before. The truth is, throughout the church’s history Christians have pretty much dealt with every kind of doctrinal and practical challenge you can imagine. Ecclesiastes 1:9–10 puts it this way: “What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun. Is there a thing of which it is said, ‘See, this is new’? It has been already in the ages before us.”

Let me give an illustration. As a young believer, I was a member of a small community church in northern Minnesota. It was so small that the adult Sunday school class included everybody in the church except for the children and youth. As you might expect, in this mixed generation class intergenerational conflict sometimes flared up. On one occasion the subject of church music came up, centered on the question of the use of various instruments like guitars and drums. In our church only the piano was used in Sunday morning worship.

One older man in the class spoke up in a deep, gruff voice, ranting against the use of anything but the piano in worship and complaining about “that satanic beat” of modern music using drums. In his mind, using instruments associated with contemporary secular music would be selling out to “The Culture.”

But a little historical perspective would have helped here.

Most people who resist musical and instrumental changes to the worship service fail to acknowledge that every style of music and musical instrument has, at some point, been adapted from the surrounding culture. In fact, when great hymn writers like Isaac Watts and Charles Wesley wrote their now classic hymns, many church leaders rejected their songs because they believed Christians should sing only the inspired and inerrant Psalms. And instruments like the piano, violin, and even the organ were all initially rejected for Christian worship because of their associations with secular music.

Though the ignorance of the past illustrated in this particular example didn’t drive our church into controversy and conflict, other cases of ignorance of the past could potentially lead to disaster. In order for Christians to make wise decisions, they must be able to draw from a depth of historical knowledge. In short, learning church history will cure our ignorance of the past.

The (Kitschy) Cross and the (Creepy) Crypt

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The heart of the gospel of Jesus Christ is His death and resurrection (1 Cor 15:3–4). This good news about Jesus wasn’t a mythological medley of spiritual metaphors. It wasn’t a story invented to puff the public appeal of a carpenter-turned-Rabbi. These were not “cleverly devised tales” (2 Pet 1:16) meant to deceive the masses into an unfounded faith. Early Christians made it clear that the gospel is based on historical events that occurred with real people in real places. Christ suffered “under Pontius Pilate,” a real historical figure. He was buried in a real tomb owned by a prominent Jerusalemite, Joseph of Arimathea (Matt 27:57–60). And He rose again on the third day—seen, heard, and even touched by numerous eye witnesses (1 Cor 15:5–8).

When people visit Israel today, they are bombarded by all sorts of claims regarding the location of certain biblical events—from the place where an angel visited Mary to the place where Christ was born . . . from the hillside where Jesus preached to the cliff where the herd of possessed pigs plunged into the Sea of Galilee. Sometimes pilgrims are left wondering which of these claims are based on historical fact or simply conjecture. But when it comes to the place of the death, burial, and resurrection of Christ, things get really messy. In fact, two competing locations for the death and resurrection present themselves as the true place of Golgotha and the tomb—the ancient Church of the Holy Sepulchre and the more recent Garden Tomb. And the difference between these two locations is quite literally darkness and light.

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre is cramped among the buildings of Old Jerusalem, covered by layer after layer of stone structures. Numerous Catholic traditions compete for control of the site, sending droves of worshipers through a maze-like route of Christ’s death, burial, and resurrection. Up narrow stone steps . . . past the supposed crucifixion site smothered in Catholic kitsch . . . down another flight of stairs . . . through a hallway painted with a mural depicting the death, wrapping, and burial of Jesus . . . and finally into an open hall crowded with Christian-like people first rudely shoving their way past others to see the burial site, only to reemerge weeping and wailing for their sins. I was actually told once by a burly Italian priest that I couldn’t go into the chapel because I wasn’t Catholic! To my evangelical eyes, the place is awful when it should be awesome. I always walk out of that cold, cramped, crowded Church with a feeling of despair, not hope.

But when I walk into the place of Gordon’s Calvary and the Garden Tomb, it’s like walking into a Thomas Kinkade painting. Birds chirp, butterflies flutter, trees wave in the cool breeze, visitors walk leisurely along garden paths, praying and singing hymns. A guide points out the craggy cliff which, with some imagination, looks like the features of a skull. He points to the area that used to be a site of public execution—a perfect fit for the crucifixion of Christ. Then he leads us to a tomb . . . a real tomb. Not a church, but an ancient burial site once covered by a rolling stone. There it is, in the garden, not far from the place of crucifixion, standing open . . .and empty. Pilgrims slowly file in and out. No pushing, no shoving, no burning incense, no purchasing candles, no kissing rocks—just meditating on the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus.

Like I said, the contrast is darkness and light. The only thing the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and the Garden Tomb have it common is that they both claim to be the place of the gospel events. Of course, evangelicals who visit the Holy Land almost instantly reject the Catholic location, and almost unquestioningly accept the Garden Tomb. It’s easy to see why. But in all likelihood, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre holds the best claim as the authentic site of Christ’s death and resurrection. On my last trip to Israel, I had the hardest time answering visitors’ questions about this. I really wanted to say, “No, that Catholic Church isn’t the real thing. This beautiful garden is the place.” But I couldn’t. Instead, I had to quietly tell those who asked the simple archaeological and historical facts.

The Bible says Joseph of Arimathea placed Christ’s body “in his own new tomb, which he had hewn out in the rock” (Matt 27:60). However, the grave at the Garden Tomb has all the characteristics of an Old Testament period tomb, not a new tomb. Besides this archaeological fact, the location of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre has very strong historical claim. It is mentioned very early on in Christian history has having been memorialized by the Christians in Jerusalem as the location of the death and resurrection of Jesus. In contrast, Gordon’s Calvary and its nearby tomb have no such pedigree. As difficult as it is for me to admit, the Garden Tomb is just a pretty place.

But as I reflect on the troubling condition of the true location of Christ’s death and resurrection, I’m not surprised. From day one Satan and the opponents of Christianity have been trying to cover up, confuse, and destroy the heart of Christianity. What better way for Satan to obscure the truth than to adorn the place of Christ’s atoning death and saving resurrection with a kitschy cross and a creepy crypt! And as I reflect on the many weeping worshipers at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre who push and shove their way through the gaudy grotto, I feel sadness at what the simple, beautiful, inspiring gospel of Jesus Christ has become for so many. Instead of a source of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control, it has often become a center of impurity, idolatry, enmities, strife, jealousy, anger, disputes, dissensions, and factions. Evangelicals like you and me are not immune to this, either.

Although historically we must accept the likelihood that the place of Christ’s death and resurrection is concealed by a massive Church . . . spiritually we should strive for the purity and beauty symbolized by the Garden Tomb.

[Originally posted June 3, 2008 at www.retrochristianity.com.]

Three Trails to Traditionalism: What Evangelicals Are Running From and Running To . . . and Why

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ThreePathsBack in the 1990s, when I was a student at a conservative evangelical Bible College, one of my fellow students shocked many in the student body (and alarmed several professors) when he announced that he was becoming Greek Orthodox.

This confused me.

Weren’t Orthodox Christians just Greek-speaking Catholics without a pope? Didn’t they pray to saints and worship Mary? And their worship! Didn’t they kiss icons, sniff incense, sprinkle holy water, and rattle off irrelevant prayers and creeds that had nothing to do with either the Bible or real life? Why in the world would anybody convert to that?

Then I heard about a free church evangelical who became Anglican—still Protestant, of course, but it made me wonder what would motivate a person to make such a drastic change in doctrine, church order, and worship style. Then I heard about a Baptist who converted to Roman Catholicism, leaving Protestantism completely behind. Surely this had to be some kind of sign of the end times!

However, before too long I learned that many Low Church or free church Protestants had left what they regarded as evangelical “wilderness wanderings” to follow the “Roman Road,” the “Way to Constantinople,” or (for those who desired to remain within the Protestant tradition while restoring a liturgical worship) the “Canterbury Trail.” Those who couldn’t take such radical steps into a High Church community sometimes ended up in more traditional conservative Protestant denominations like the Presbyterians or Lutherans. Over and over again I kept running into more examples like these: men and women leaving the open fields of free roaming evangelicalism for the gated gardens of a clearly defined denomination.

Naturally, I was curious about why anybody would go from Southern Baptist to Eastern Orthodox, from Lutheran to Roman Catholicism, or from an Evangelical Free church to an Episcopal church. As a young believer who was perfectly happy in my evangelical subculture, these radical departures seemed inexplicable.

Through the years, though, I discovered that these conversions were not isolated cases. Rather, they represented a widespread movement, especially among younger evangelicals, away from free church and Low Church communities toward more traditional High Church denominations. In order to better understand this trend, I began to discuss these conversions with the converts themselves and to read books and articles on the phenomenon. As I did, I discovered that these converts tended to fall into one of three categories:

1. Aversion-Driven Converts

2. Attraction-Driven Converts

3. Preference-Driven Converts

Let me briefly explain each of these motivations and then explain some basic problems within evangelicalism that need to be addressed. (This essay merely introduces the “what’s” and “why’s” . . . the “what do we do now?” question is answered more fully in the book, RetroChristianity.)

Aversion-Driven Converts

The aversion-driven converts are those who simply have had enough of Low Church, free church, or no-church evangelicalism. Frustrated with the “anything goes” instability of their evangelical megachurches or megachurch wannabes, some just can’t stomach the ever-shifting sands upon which their churches seem to be built. Or they have endured just too many church coups, splits, or hostile takeovers to continue appreciating the “who’s in charge here anyway?” debates within their independent congregations. Or they’ve “had it up to here” with the stifling legalism and heartless dogmatism of their fundamentalist upbringing. In other words, their motivation to convert to a stable, well-defined, traditional denomination has more to do with what they’re running from than what they’re running to.

The problem with this kind of conversion, however, is simply this: reaction against something—even if that something is bad—is no way to make a wise choice for something. It’s no wonder that many of these aversion-driven converts become dissatisfied with their destination tradition and end up reacting even to that! Lesson learned: if you don’t know what you’re looking for, you’ll never find it.

Attraction-Driven Converts

The attraction-driven converts are completely different. They don’t start with any particularly serious problem with their current evangelical churches. Instead, their entrée into the traditional, historical denominations comes more gradually. The attraction-driven converts claim to arrive at “the Historic Christian Faith,” or to discover “the One True Church,” or to happen upon “the Holy Tradition” either by accident or by careful investigation. As they explore these churches more deeply, they become disillusioned with their historically shallow evangelical background while coming to believe that the traditional denomination has a greater continuity with ancient and historical orthodoxy. They conclude, then, that their Protestant evangelical tradition is really a Johnny-come-lately at best or a devilish usurper at worst. These converts then claim that they were compelled to forsake their evangelical tradition because of their study of church history.

The problem with this approach, however, is that those who claim to have found the one true church through the study of the ancient church often have no idea how to study church history. Rather than engaging in a so-called objective exploration of the facts of church history, they are often unwittingly fed a particular version of church history that just so happens to favor a particular tradition.

Preference-Driven Converts

Finally, the preference-driven converts are motivated not by the ills of evangelicalism or the merits of classic Christian denominations, but by personal preferences regarding worship. I’ve heard numerous friends, colleagues, and students tell me they switched to a High Church or non-Protestant tradition because they “like the liturgy.” They love traditional forms of worship such as lighting candles, offering incense, reciting creeds, partaking of weekly Eucharist, observing the Christian calendar, or some other element of worship completely missing or outright rejected by many evangelical churches. Thus, their decision to convert to a liturgical church was more about adopting a worship style that felt more authentic, appealed to their sense of mystery, engaged their senses, or made them feel connected to a broader and deeper historical faith than their narrow and shallow evangelical churches. In the final analysis, they have nothing against Baptists and Bible churches, but those less formal ways of worship just aren’t for them.

The problem with the preference-driven converts is that they often make their decisions in an extremely me-centered, consumerist fashion. They’re less concerned about content and more concerned with contentment. They’re less interested in fact and more interested in feeling. Though they opt out of the typical external forms of the evangelical subculture, they do so in a very typical evangelical way—through individualistic personal preference!

While I sympathize with many of the concerns shared by those who have chosen to travel the trails toward traditionalism, it seems that many have abandoned their evangelical heritage far too hastily and unwisely, driven by emotion, ignorance, or unquestioned assumptions about Scripture, history, and theology. On the other hand, we need to understand why many evangelicals are driven away from their evangelical heritage or attracted to other traditions. I believe the answer is simple. Despite its strengths, there are severe problems with contemporary evangelicalism that are reaching a point of crisis.

Why does evangelicalism appear to be spinning out of control, losing appeal to younger generations, dwindling in numbers, or selling out to pop culture to muster a crowd? Where is evangelicalism headed? What can we do about it? In my book, RetroChristianity: Reclaiming the Forgotten Faith and at the companion website, www.retrochristianity.com, my goal has been to challenge evangelicals to begin thinking both critically and constructively about history and how it informs our current beliefs, values, and practices. However, unlike many attempts to change the present by looking to the past, this approach also begins exploring practical ways for both individuals and churches to apply its principles today. Arguing that the way forward is to draw on the wisdom of the whole Christian past, RetroChristianity not only points out the trailhead of the biblical, historical, and theological path, but it supplies provisions for the journey without forsaking the healthy developments that have benefited Christianity along the way.

RetroChristianity doesn’t naively defend evangelicalism as if everything were just fine. As I review the history and survey the current landscape of modern evangelicalism, I conclude that things are in pretty bad shape and are likely to get worse. However, I don’t believe the retreat into traditionalism is the necessary or most beneficial response—though it is certainly the easiest.

RetroChristianity fully acknowledges the frustrating and upsetting elements of evangelicalism. However, we can’t afford to simply whine about the flaws of the evangelical movement. We need to provide directions for addressing these problems, resting firmly on biblical, theological, and historical foundations. This will help us respond appropriately to extremes within evangelicalism and contribute to its improvement rather than its destruction.

RetroChristianity also acknowledges the egocentric nature of many evangelicals’ approaches to church and spirituality. We need to counter the preference-driven mentality rampant among so many churches, replacing it with a more biblical, historical, and theological framework through which we can make informed decisions regarding doctrine, practice, and worship. This will help us wisely balance the vital elements of church, worship, ministry, and spirituality, avoiding excesses, extremes, distractions, and distortions.

In short, I believe that careful biblical, theological, and historical reflection should make us better evangelicals, not former evangelicals.

 

[Excerpted and adapted from the introduction RetroChristianity: Reclaiming the Forgotten Faith (Wheaton: Crossway, 2012), pp. 17–21. Available now at Amazon, ChristianBook.com, Westerminster Bookstore.]