Category Archives: Controversial Issues

The Gnosticizing of Evangelicalism

Posted on by

As the Nag Hammadi Library of gnostic writings began to be made available to scholars in both editions and translations, the Dutch scholar, W. C. Van Unnik, surveyed a handful of these writings and compared them to the New Testament texts. He noted, “Nobody who is to any extent at home with the currents and undercurrents of our spiritual life today is likely to assent to this description of Gnosticism. Such widely separated movements as theosophy and anthroposophy have been instanced—and with every justification—as modern forms of Gnosticism. Time and again one comes across similar ways of interpreting Christianity—for example, among the Rosicrucians who, just like the ancient Gnostics, give out their interpretation as the real ‘truth’ of Christianity.” (W. C. van Unnik, Newly Discovered Gnostic Writings: A Preliminary Survey of the Nag-Hammadi Find, Studies in Biblical Theology 30 [Naperville, IL: Allenson, 1960], 89.)

I am, however, not so sure Christianity has not, after all, suffered from a gnosticizing influence throughout its centuries. And I am becoming more and more convinced that American evangelicalism—in almost all of its denominational (and non-denominational) forms—has suffered both bruises and lacerations at the hands of this phantom philosophy. After several years of living and breathing the air of American evangelicalism, experiencing firsthand both the smog and the fresh ocean breezes, having drunk from both the pure spring waters and the cracked cisterns of our tradition, having eaten the bread made from both the ground wheat and crushed tares of our living and departed saints, I have become increasingly concerned about the influence of essentially gnostic ideas on Christian truth.

I have developed an unscientific sense that gnosticization of Christianity is a constant threat. It is not, as was once believed, a challenge of the second and third centuries that was overcome by the institutionalization of the church, the formation of the canon of Scripture, and a concretizing of a common creed. Rather, all of these things necessitate human interpretation, which opens the door to countless presuppositions and preunderstandings. I have come to believe that the delicate balance—nay, the excruciatingly painful tension—that marks the orthodox doctrine of the incarnation as well as its implications for an incarnational theology and worldview, is simply too difficult for most humans to sustain without being pulled or pushed to one pole or the other. That Jesus Christ is both God and man, that the Bible is both divine and human, that salvation is both physical and spiritual, that the kingdom is both heavenly and earthly—the balance of such statements are far too easy to disrupt when humans begin to interpret and apply them in the twisted chaos of both the psychological and cosmic realities of this present world. Worldviews constantly collide with the Christian conundrum and confront the incarnational irreconcilables with demands for modification, reinterpretation, and reform. Thus, I believe the gnosticizing of Christianity seen in the early centuries of the church is a phenomenon that we can detect throughout church history. And it is a challenge that threatens to distort and destroy evangelical theology today.

When I say that evangelicalism is suffering from gnosticization, I do not mean that some specific form of Gnosticism or a Gnostic system—ancient or modern—is directly exercising influence on the thinking of modern Christians. Rather, evangelicals have long ridiculed many of the extreme expressions of classic Gnosticism—the distinction between the unknown Father and the unknowing creator god; the numerous emanations from the Father, the fall of Sophia, the creation of evil matter, the complex revisions of orthodox Christian truth, and so forth. These errors are easy to avoid, and evangelicals have remained essentially orthodox in their avoidance of Gnostic heresy. Furthermore, I do not mean that evangelicals have become Gnostics. I do not believe the gnosticization of evangelicalism means that evangelicalism has ceased to be fundamentally and authentically Christian. The effect of gnosticizing has not caused evangelicalism to fall into heresy. It has, rather, maintained a classically catholic and orthodox identity.

What I actually mean by this assertion is that, like some sectors of the ancient church in the second century, evangelicalism has reinterpreted Christian truth—or adopted others’ reinterpretations—that diverge from a classic incarnational theology. That is, contemporary evangelicalism has fallen into the pattern of trying to relieve the incarnational tension and has, to a large degree, opted for the same kind of spiritualizing, other-worldly, non-material philosophical direction as the ancient Gnostics.

What does this look like? Many evangelicals fail to maintain a doctrine of Scripture that takes seriously both its fully human and fully divine qualities. We have created a view of humanity more in line with a body-spirit dualism in which the “true me” is entrapped in a body, regarding God’s physical creation as a mere “shell” that needs to be shed. We have spiritualized the ordinances, stripping them of their sacramental power and relegating them to mere symbols and memorials of spiritual truths. We have severed the spiritual church from the physical church, the universal from the local body of Christ, and have made membership in one (the spiritual) possible without membership in the other (the physical). We have put up with a dichotomizing between the spiritual, personal experience of salvation by an invisible faith and the material, physical manifestation of faith through acts of love, manifested in a radical division between justification and sanctification. We have tolerated extreme expressions of the Spirit working directly with individuals outside the physical, institutional community of Christ, allowing many radical departures from classic Christian orthodoxy by means of special “movements” of the Spirit or new revelations. We have opted for a spiritualized and personalized eschatology that de-emphasizes the redemption of this physical creation through history, and even premillennialists have suggested that God’s plan for this world includes its absolute destruction rather than transformation and resurrection.

Sadly, this already long list could continue.

What is the solution to the gnosticizing of evangelicalism? I believe the only lasting solution is a rigorous christocentric theology that continually checks and corrects biblical interpretation, dogmatic systems, and practical applications against the standard of an authentically incarnational christology.

Leading Evidence

Posted on by

Throughout my college and seminary training, I often heard both teachers and students say things like, “You can’t conclude that based on the evidence,” or “The evidence clearly points to such-and-such a conclusion.” My least favorite statement of all, however, was “We need to be willing to go wherever the evidence leads.”

The problem with this whole approach is that evidence leads nowhere.

Perhaps I ought to nuance that slightly. On very rare occasions the evidence is so clear that it leads to an obvious conclusion for the vast majority of reasonable (i.e., “sane”) people. Two examples: “something exists” . . . “I exist.” From that point any assertion based on evidence begins to move—ever so slightly—away from the center-point of certainty. But once a person steps from that very small bounded pasture of certainty into the open range of uncertainty and probability, the evidence must be shepherded by arguments—guided toward a reasonable end.

Let me be clear: I don’t buy into the idea of “following the evidence wherever it leads” because in the vast majority of cases the evidence does not lead . . . we lead the evidence. An argument, which incorporates evidence, leads in a particular direction. And arguments, while hopefully including all evidence in a cohesive, coherent, and consistent manner, are led by the arguer. Thus, the arguer leads the evidence. Even when people are all examining the exact same evidence, the result will be a variety of interpretations supported by different groups and individuals. Sometimes when the amount of evidence increases—or old evidence is reevaluated—the picture may change. But not always. Each of us is leading the evidence in a particular direction based on our pre-understandings, presuppositions, agendas, methodologies, questions, and biases. The point? Every endeavor to analyze evidence is perspectival.

In decades (and centuries) past, when a scholar claimed to be compelled by the evidence in a particular direction, many times he or she strived to act as a judge or juror, valuating and evaluating the objective facts without bias. With the decline in modernist confidence in such objectivity, most scholars today admit that they approach all evidence with biases and questions. But often people suggest that the solution to this problem is to strive to strip away biases—that is, “Admitting that you have a subjectivity problem is the first step in overcoming your subjectivity.”

Shouldn’t we strive to be as objective as possible and then proceed with the investigation? No! This is impossible and could, in fact, be more dangerous than simply embracing our perspectives and running with them. Here’s why: if overcoming our perspective is not really possible, then believing that we have somehow overcome them is worse than not being aware of them in the first place. It’s like digging ourselves into a pit, looking up, realizing we’re in a pit, then solving the problem by making the pit larger. We may have worked harder at digging. We may have even employed people to help us dig. But in the end, we’re still stuck in a pit.

Another problem with buying into the method of approaching evidence with as much objectivity as possible is this: what if your original perspective, bias, and set of presuppositions is right? What if your understanding of a particular subject and therefore your arrangement of the evidence is actually the correct one? If this is the case, then stripping yourself of those presuppositions is not only unnecessary—it’s dangerous!

A while back, when I worked for a particular ministry of a well-known pastor, the ministry received a letter from a critic stringing together evidence from the pastor’s writings proving that he held to a particular false doctrine. That man examined the evidence, drew his conclusions, and demanded repentance and an apology. The problem is that that person completely misinterpreted the evidence. For a few rounds, we tried to combat the person’s views by pointing him to other writings of the pastor that showed that he clearly did not hold the false view. But it didn’t work. Finally I said, “This is ridiculous. We know this guy’s interpretation is wrong because we know Pastor So-and-So doesn’t hold this view.” There was no point in argument or evidence in this case, and even though we couldn’t prove to the critique that we were interpreting the pastor’s writings correctly, our unique perspective guaranteed that we were.

I think in many cases this analogy works for reading Scripture. Christians should not be ashamed to read the entire Bible in conformity with classic Christian theology. I am completely unimpressed with lexical, grammatical, and exegetical arguments based on probabilities, historical parallels, or other evidences that do not align with a normal Christian understanding—touching on issues of orthodoxy. In my mind, when a person’s methodology leads to conclusions that are at odds with the classic Christian faith, it doesn’t mean my interpretation needs to be revised or that the faith needs to be modified—it means the methodology is flawed.

This works best at the macro-level, dealing with big issues of orthodoxy (God, Christ, Salvation, etc.). But it can also function as a working principle at the micro-level. For example, I am unimpressed with evidence and arguments that conclude that the “Angel of the Lord” appearances of the Old Testament—classically regarded as appearances of the pre-incarnate Son of God—are merely created angels acting as stand-ins or heavenly representatives of God. The traditional interpretation of the Angel of the Lord as the Son/Logos of God is so ancient and compelling that in my mind the methodologies used to arrive at competing views are discredited. That God the Son (Logos) has always served as the divine mediator between the Father and the creation goes back to Ignatius of Antioch, the Epistle of Barnabas, Justin Martyr, Irenaeus, and more. But isn’t this reading the Bible in light of tradition? YES! That’s the whole point.

But wait! Am I not, then, simply approaching this question from my own particular perspective? Of course! Then how do we arrive at the undisputed truth of the matter?

We don’t. There will always be dispute. There will always be challenges. Our responsibility is to engage in the real practice of theology. It’s not understanding seeking faith. It’s faith seeking understanding. It’s not exegesis leading to a biblical theology. It’s traditional theology guiding biblical exegesis. This means contributing to the quest for understanding in community, offering up arguments and critiques, incorporating new evidence as it comes, constantly re-evaluating evidence, exploring new arguments, and always operating under the assumption that the dialogue will continue long after we’re gone. But we must always carry on the conversation in the context of the tradition and in the confines of the believing community.

Ideally my dialogical hermeneutical method ought to take place in a community of free and open dialogue in which various perspectives are heard, understood, discussed, and critiqued. But this is, of course, impossible. So, in the absence of such an ideal dialogical community we’re really just left with one practical solution. It’s the solution through which the Holy Spirit guided the church into truth for the last 2000 years. We struggle with the questions, we agonize over them, and we debate each other, all the while trusting that the Spirit will guide His church into the future as He has faithfully done in the past—in, though, with, among, and, more often than not, in spite of us.

Limited or Unlimited Atonement? (Yes)

Posted on by

Let me begin by giving one reason I confess what is commonly called “limited atonement.” I could go into a long treatise on the internal logical and theological consistency of a Calvinist approach to salvation, but instead I’ll just keep this simple and mention one verse. In Ephesians 5:25, Paul wrote, “Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ also loved the church and gave Himself up for her.” What did Paul mean by “Christ gave Himself up” for the church? In 5:2, Paul had already explained, “Walk in love, just as Christ also loved you and gave Himself up for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God as a fragrant aroma.” Thus, by sacrificing His life as an offering to God, Christ gave Himself up for the church, that is, the elect.

How does this touch on the doctrine of limited atonement? Well, in Ephesians 5:25 Paul used Christ’s self-sacrificial love for the church as a model of a husband’s love for his wife—and vice versa. I contend that the sense of Paul’s exhortation to husbands requires the doctrine of limited atonement. Because if we confess that Christ’s love and sacrificial death applied equally and universally to all people, whether believers or unbelievers, then Paul’s entire argument for a husband’s exclusive, faithful love for his wife would collapse. Paul did not write, “Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ also loved the church and gave Himself up for her and for all people everywhere, equally and without exception.” The very nature of Paul’s exhortation demands that he perceived the sacrificial death of Christ to have been limited in its redemptive intension—focused specifically on the elect of the church.

There are other passages I could highlight that limit the scope of Christ’s death to “us,” to believers, to the church, to the elect, and to those “in Christ.” But I frankly don’t see the need to pile up proof-texts, especially in light of where I’m going in this essay. I believe the point of Ephesians 5:25 is sufficiently clear to show that in some sense—however that may be expressed—the self-sacrificial love of Christ for the church is qualitatively different than the love that Christ has for the unsaved world in general.

But this now brings me to the second part of my confession. I also confess that Christ died for all.

I hold this not merely because the New Testament teaches a universality of God’s love (John 3:16), but also because certain passages are quite difficult to interpret apart from the death of Christ having a universal benefit and scope. Although I personally believe 1 John 2:2 may be a reference to the global catholicity of the Christian faith rather than the universality of Christ’s propitiatory offering (see my article on this subject here), I believe 2 Peter 2:1 teaches that Christ’s death paid the price of redemption for non-elect heretics. Peter wrote, “There will also be false teachers among you, who will secretly introduce destructive heresies, even denying the Master who bought them, bringing swift destruction upon themselves.” Though I have heard all the arguments to the contrary, I cannot get around two basic assertions in this passage: 1) the false teachers denied the Lord and taught heresy—marking them as outside the body of the elect; 2) these heretics had nevertheless been “bought” by the Lord. Thus, in some sense, the penalty of sin for the non-elect was paid by the death of Christ.

So, I confess both unlimited and limited atonement. Although Christ’s death paid the penalty for all, the saving effect of His death is limited only to the elect.

Even though the non-elect are not the object of God’s redemptive intention, this does not mean they do not receive real benefit from the death Christ died in their place. I believe that God’s general grace toward all humans is granted on the basis of Christ’s propitiatory death and the resulting gracious and merciful disposition of God toward the world in general. The forms of this general grace include the preservation of the world for the sake of the elect, the blessing of unbelievers in conjunction with the blessing of the elect, and, in fact, all good gifts from God that are bestowed upon humans in general, as well as the withholding of judgment and wrath for the purpose of executing His program of grace and mercy in the present age. Furthermore, because believers are raised on the basis of Christ’s resurrection, I also hold that unbelievers will be raised on the basis of Christ’s resurrection (see John 5:29; 11:25; and context). This is not a strange or novel idea. Calvin himself wrote in Institutes 3.25.9:

We know that in Adam we were deprived of the inheritance of the whole world, and that the same reason which excludes us from eating of the tree of life excludes us also from common food. How comes it, then, that God not only makes his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, but that, in regard to the uses of the present life, his inestimable liberality is constantly flowing forth in rich abundance? Hence we certainly perceive, that things which are proper to Christ and his members, abound to the wicked also; not that their possession is legitimate, but that they may thus be rendered more inexcusable. Thus the wicked often experience the beneficence of God, not in ordinary measures, but such as sometimes throw all the blessings of the godly into the shade, though they eventually lead to greater damnation. Should it be objected, that the resurrection is not properly compared to fading and earthly blessings, I again answer, that when the devils were first alienated from God, the fountain of life, they deserved to be utterly destroyed; yet, by the admirable counsel of God, an intermediate state was prepared, where without life they might live in death. It ought not to seem in any respect more absurd that there is to be an adventitious resurrection of the ungodly which will drag them against their will before the tribunal of Christ, whom they now refuse to receive as their master and teacher.

In short, Calvin said the blessings of God through Christ—intended for the elect—overflow in abundance and affect the wicked. However, because they are recipients of some blessings of Christ’s death, their failure to respond to God in worship and glory results in even greater guilt and condemnation.

I believe that from God’s perspective of actualized redemption, the scope and purpose of Christ’s death was limited to the elect. Yet from the perspective of his general love for humanity expressed by His general grace, and also from the theological perspective of the inexhaustible potential redemptive value of the God-man’s sacrificial death, I must confess that the benefits of Christ’s death can not be limited only to the elect.

Thus, I confess that Christ died for all. I also confess that Christ died only for the elect. This is neither a mystery nor a paradox. I believe in limited atonement when referring to God’s eternal perspective and purpose of salvation; and I believe in unlimited atonement when referring to the benefits bestowed on humanity in general in spite of their unbelief. These are real, intentional benefits of the atonement, but not intended for eternal salvation.

I’m generally irenic in my approach to theological dialogue, but I do not applaud artificial attempts at finding a via media at all costs, so I am not highly motivated by being labeled a “moderate.” It’s great to be “moderate” when being moderate is right, but if it’s simply a compromise for its own sake, I don’t find this commendable. So, in stating my current position on limited and unlimited atonement, the result has probably not been to satisfy both Calvinists and non-Calvinists simultaneously. Rather, I’ve probably just offended both. Of course, the latter effect was not my intention (I’m not a controversialist) . . . . but neither was the former.

Bible Foregrounds 2: “Falling Away” in Hebrews 6:4–6

Posted on by

Many passages of Scripture have been tirelessly debated not only in light of the meaning of the words and grammar, but also in light of the historical context or “background.” However, scholars often neglect the historical “foreground”—that is, the exploration of which interpretations make the most sense in light of what followed the apostolic period. The apostles and prophets who wrote the books of the Bible also taught large numbers of Christians who carried on their oral teachings in their own ministries (see 2 Timothy 2:2). So we should expect that the correct reading of Scripture may “echo” forward into the writings of second and third generation teachers. In part 1 of this series of essays, I examined the identity of the “restrainer” in 2 Thessalonisn 2. In part 2, I will explore a more weighty problem passage.

Problem

Mention the reference “Hebrews 6” and many Bible-believers bristle—especially those who hold that true believers can never lose their salvation. The most difficult portion of the problem passage reads, “For in the case of those who have . . . fallen away, it is impossible to renew them again to repentance (Hebrews 6:4, 6). The problem is not in the fact that some fall way, but in the description of the people replaced by the ellipses, for in a surface reading the passage seems to indicate bona fide believers. So, does Hebrews 6 teach that true believers can lose their salvation by falling away?

This passage has been variously interpreted. Some say it does, in fact, teach that a person can lose their salvation. The people described in Hebrews 6:4–6 were actually once born again, but they do something (or fail to do something) that causes them to fall back into a state of damnation. Those who believe in eternal security often argue against this interpretation of Hebrews 6 by simply jumping ship and latching on to “more clear” passages that suggest a person is eternally saved. But one person’s “clear” passage can easily become another person’s problem passage, and the debate over the meaning of Hebrews 6 never really gets resolved.

Another view is the “false believers view.” Like the “apostates” described in 1 John 2:19, these people appeared to be true believers by outward confession and actions, but were demonstrated to be false brethren by their ultimate apostasy. Had they been true believers, they would have persevered in the faith until the end.

Some view the passage as referring to true believers who, by falling away from sanctification and good works, render their testimonies tainted and their lives useless. Though they themselves are still saved and will see heaven, they lose their reward, as seems to be the case in 1 Corinthians 3:15. Thus, some argue that there comes a point in a carnal Christian’s life that they will become so numb to the Spirit’s conviction that they can no longer repent.

Another view is the “stagnated growth” view. The people described had begun down the Christian path through baptism and early instruction, but fell aside and became stagnant. Since it’s impossible to start the Christian life over again (repentance), they are being encouraged to get back on the path and advance toward maturity. The implied warning in this passage is that if they don’t get on the path, but drift farther from the path, they may, in fact, prove to be false believers or will lose their reward, in which case the second or third views above would apply.

With such a great variety of views (and these are just a sampling of the many variations), how can Bible foregrounds inform our understanding of the passage?

Bible Foregrounds

First, we must look at the broad purpose of the passage. The point is a contrast between immature novices and mature teachers, those who lack discernment and those who are trained and experienced. The point of the writer is not to warn about losing salvation, or how to tell when somebody is not really saved, or even to give assurance to those who have all the right signs of salvation. The point is to encourage spiritual infants to grow toward spiritual maturity.

Second, we must understand the actual meaning of the verb in Hebrews 6:6, “to fall away.” The word is not the normal term used for “apostasy” or “falling away” (aphistemi), but a unique word used only here in the New Testament—parapipto. It literally means “to fall beside a person or thing; to slip aside; hence, to deviate from the right path, turn aside, wander.” The concrete visual image associated with its use in ancient literature can best be illustrated by an example in Polybius’s Histories 3.54.5. That ancient author writes: “For the path down was narrow and precipitous, and the snow made it impossible for the men to see where they were treading, while to step aside (parapipto) from the path, or to stumble, meant being hurled down the precipices.” The image is that of a person wandering off a path, thus “falling aside”— not falling “away,” but falling beside “a way” or path.

Given this background of the term, is there anything in the historical context to suggest that the author of Hebrews had a “path” or “road” metaphor in mind when he used this term? I believe there is.

In Hebrews 5:11 the writer says that his readers had become “dull of hearing.” They should be teachers, but they need somebody to re-teach them the basics, the “elementary principles of the oracles of God.” They need “milk and not solid food” (5:12). This implies that the readers had already gone through the basics and should now be teachers.

In Hebrews 5:13, the writer explains that because they are babes in their understanding, they cannot chew on the meaty doctrines of the Christian faith. They are immature, they lack discernment, and they cannot handle advanced teaching (5:14). However, the writer desires to leave “the elementary teaching about the Christ” and to “press on to maturity” (6:1). (Note: The phrase “elementary teaching about the Christ” argues that these are Christian teachings, not the teachings of pre-Christian Judaism.) This elementary, or “basic” Christian instruction includes repentance from dead words and faith toward God, teachings concerning baptisms, laying on of hands, the resurrection of the dead, and eternal judgment (6:1–2).

A key term in this list of basic Christian teaching is the word “instruction,” which is the Greek word didache. It means “doctrine” or “teaching.” Those familiar with early Christian literature outside the New Testament know that this is the title of a book—written in stages throughout the first and second centuries—that calls itself simply the “teaching of the twelve disciples,” or, for short, the Didache. That ancient book really functions as a manual of church instruction, probably compiled and edited for the church of Antioch. Some scholars say certain parts of the book were written perhaps earlier than some of our written gospels, though some sections were added perhaps as late as A.D. 150. Either way, the book contains an instruction about the “two paths” that lie before each person—the path of life and the path of death. Each person is called to choose which path to follow, and once a person chooses the path of life, they begin the journey of life by the initiation of water baptism. Thus, the Didache serves in part as an early teaching manual for new believers, preparing them for baptism and instructing them on the elementary principles of the Christian faith.

Because similar themes are found in other early Christian literature, we have good reason to believe that many churches—not just Antioch—followed a similar pattern of early Christian instruction as that found in the Didache. In fact, it is my belief that this type of early instruction, or didache, stands behind the thought of Hebrews 6, and plays off of the “two paths” image presented to potential converts to Christianity.

For example, Hebrews 6:1 mentions “teaching of baptisms.” And in Didache 7.1–4 we read the following instruction regarding different legitimate types of baptism:

Now concerning baptism, baptize as follows: after you have reviewed all these things [the way of life and the way of death], baptize “in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” in running water. But if you have no running water, then baptize in some other water; and if you are not able to baptize in cold water, then do so in warm. But if you have neither, then pour water on the head three times “in the name of the Father and Son and Holy Spirit.” And before the baptism, let the one baptizing and the one who is to be baptized fast, as well as any others who are able. Also, you must instruct the one who is to be baptized to fast for one or two days beforehand. (Didache 7.1–4)

Regarding the “laying on of hands,” which is a sign of the ordination to ministry and leadership, Didache 11.3 says, “Now concerning the apostles and prophets, deal with them as follows in accordance with the rule of the gospel,” and then describes how one can distinguish a true from a false prophet, gives instructions on dealing with leadership, and tells how to discern good and bad leaders (Didache 11.4–13.7). In light of Paul’s admonition to Timothy to “not lay hands upon anyone too hastily” the “laying on of hands” in Hebrews 6:1 likely refers to instructions concerning legitimate leadership in the local church.

Hebrews 6:2 also refers to “the resurrection of the dead and eternal punishment.” Interestingly, the last section of Didache contains instructions about the end times.

The Solution

Read in light of the early Christian teaching (didache) that prepared people for baptism, as well as the basic instruction that followed baptism, the author of Hebrews appears to have been referring to the Christians’ early instruction in the faith—“Christianity 101.”

In Hebrews 6:3 he said that if God permits, they will leave behind the “elementary teachings. Then, in describing converts to Christianity who have stagnated in their progress, the author of Hebrews refers to elements of ancient Christian instruction and initiation. He says that these people “have once been enlightened and had tasted of the heavenly gift and have been made partakers of the Holy Spirit” (6:4). Interestingly, “enlightenment” was actually an early reference to a person’s response to the gospel through water baptism. Around A.D. 155, Justin Martyr wrote in his defense of Christianity: “And this washing [baptism] is called illumination, as those who learn these things are illuminated in the mind. And he who is illuminated is washed in the name of Jesus Christ, who was crucified under Pontius Pilate, and in the name of the Holy Spirit, who through the prophets foretold all the things about Jesus” (Justin, 1 Apology 61).

The reference to the “heavenly gift” in Hebrews 6:4 probably refers to the Lord’s supper, or communion. In fact, the Didache says, “Let no one eat or drink of your thanksgiving meal except those who have been baptized into the name of the Lord, for the Lord has also spoken concerning this: ‘Do not give what is holy to dogs’” (Didache 9.5). It then suggests the following prayer to be recited after the communion meal: “We give you thanks, Holy Father, for your holy name which you have caused to dwell in our hearts, and for the knowledge and faith and immortality which you have made known to us through Jesus your servant; to you be the glory forever.” (Didache 10.2). This language is conceptually similar to the experiential references in Hebrews 6:4, that is, tasting the “good word of God” and becoming partakers of the Holy Spirit.

Then, when the writer of Hebrews finishes describing the details of early Christian instruction and the experiences of the Christian after submitting to baptism, he gives the following warning. If they are baptized, taught, and partake of the rights and privileges of membership in the church, “and [then] have fallen away, it is impossible to renew them again to repentance, since they again crucify to themselves the Son of God, and put Him to open shame” (Hebrews 6:6).

In the context of the Bible foregrounds, the reference to “repentance” here indicates the original conversion that placed them on the “path of life.” That’s the repentance of the convert, which takes places at their baptism. This is not repentance of the believer as he or she turns away from sin. The word “again” refers back to the previous mention of repentance in Hebrews 6:1—that is, their initial conversion to Christ by faith, represented and sealed by water baptism. That “repentance” set them on the “path of life,” from which there was no going back.

In light of this, the writer to the Hebrews appears to be drawing on the “path of life” image found in ancient Christian baptismal instructions. In essence, he’s saying this: You’ve been enlightened, baptized into the death, burial, and resurrection of Christ as a sign of repentance, and therefore initiated into the church, partaking of its full benefits and learning all the fundamentals. You started walking down the path of life. But you’ve become dull. You’re acting like a “trainee” again, like somebody who needs to be instructed prior to baptism! You should be teaching and baptizing, but you’re acting like you need somebody to teach and baptize you. But that’s impossible! Once a person has been enlightened and gone through the baptism of repentance . . . if they fall aside from the path, they can’t go back again to the baptism of repentance and start all over.

The exhortation, then, is clear: get back on the path of life and move toward maturity! You can’t be converted again, so start acting like a convert!

Conclusion

The evidence from Bible foregrounds, primarily from the first and second century document, the Didache, suggests that the writer of Hebrews had in the front of his mind an image and pattern of early Christian instruction with which his readers would have been familiar: the “path of life” that began with repentance, faith, and baptism as the initiation into the church. They had “fallen aside” from the path and were dwelling in an infant state, as if they were still being prepared for baptism. But because they can not be “re-baptized,” they need to get back on the path and head toward maturity. Thus, in light of the Bible foregrounds, the “stagnated growth” view of Hebrews 6 seems to be the most reasonable.

Scoring Culture

Posted on by

On my way to work today, I listened to a number of tracks from movie scores by John Williams, arguably the greatest film score composer alive today. After the third or fourth “main theme,” I realized why I don’t listen to this all the time. While Williams writes legendary film scores, the genre just doesn’t satisfy my musical sensibilities. See, I was trained in music performance and composition and grew up playing Mozart and Beethoven piano sonatas. Because of this, I feel like most film scores are to classical music what movie adaptations are to the books on which they are based—violent and vulgar parodies.

As I drove, ruminating on this analogy with the Jurassic Park theme assaulting my senses, I realized that the analogy also enlightens my perspective on much popular evangelicalism today.

My thesis is this: many forms of twenty-first century American evangelicalism are to classic Christianity what films scores are to classical music—violent and vulgar parodies. Movie scores are “incidental,” describing musically and thematically the ever-changing images projected on a screen. Similarly, contemporary evangelicalism reflects the ever-changing cultural values and pursuits in their superficial doctrinal and practical “norms.” To enhance the cinematic action, movie scores incorporate an eclectic variety of musical instruments, tempos, styles, and themes to fit the film without any unifying theory, structure, or progression. In the same way, many evangelicals assemble a mishmash of media and methods to appeal to the masses without an over-arching theology or structure.

I admit that my perspective has been skewed by my intense exposure to ancient Christianity. And my historical awareness of the dangers of conforming Christian practice to the prevailing cultural philosophies, values, and norms has made me leery of constant changes in evangelicalism under the guise of “incarnational ministry.” Adopting from and adapting to the cultural chaos is not the same as incarnational ministry. The fact is, God became fully human, but Jesus never really “fit in.” Paul became all things to all people, but he was beaten by Jews and beheaded by Gentiles. The ancient Christian apologists and theologians drew from philosophical concepts and rhetoric to explain the faith to a pagan culture, but that same culture rejected and killed them. Only when the Christians began to coddle up to secular authorities did they reap positive—if not genuine—responses from both the powerful and the powerless. The result was a corrupt mega-church rich in worldly goods but in desperate need of spiritual reformation.

I fear that evangelicalism today is heading in the same direction as liberal theology of yesteryear. Like the Schleiermachers and Bultmanns of centuries past, seeker-sensitive churches drive their pegs into the shifting sands of the popular cultural landscape with their emphasis on felt needs. Trying to be everything to everyone, they often become nothing to nobody. Church growth gurus plug business strategies, corporate structures, and bottom-line philosophies that increase numbers and revenue but devalue narrow-way discipleship. Trendy thirty-something congregations appeal to the glitz and glamour of entertainment-oriented eye candy or create a cozy, comfortable coffee-house environment, but often fail to drive home the essential truths of the Christian faith—the glory of the Triune God, the gracious incarnation of the Son, the new life that comes through His death and resurrection.

To avoid the liberal slide, evangelicals today need to reevaluate their relationship to popular culture. Many evangelical leaders today are infactuated with popularity, respectability, luxury, comfort, fame, and fortune. Evangelicals need to seriously rethink the essence of the Christian faith, then conform its forms and structures to match the central message. The way we represent Christianity must in some way reflect the heart of the Christian faith. Only by a careful and intentional reflection on history, theology, Scripture, and culture can we hope to arrive at genuine expressions of Christianity. Leaping from the latest marketing strategy or communications fad just doesn’t cut it.

In short, I believe evangelicalism should stop writing their music to conform to the reeling images of popular culture and return to the symphonic theory of the classics.