Category Archives: Theology

True Community

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Community groups . . . community centers . . . building community . . . promoting community . . . community life . . . community churches . . . faith communities . . . the Christian community . . .

Community has become a buzzword in twenty-first century evangelicalism. Today’s churches have reacted decisively against the unhealthy and unbiblical obsession with the personal preference, private spirituality, and individualistic Christianity of the twentieth century. In its stead, many have been drawn to a community-oriented Christianity that more accurately reflects the koinonia emphasis of the New Testament—the corporate disciplines and worship, fellowship of the saints, and ministry that involves the whole Body of Christ.

But what does true community look like?

Two Types of Community

Imagine this kind of community: an uncomfortable hodgepodge of people we barely know, or, what’s worse, maybe we know some of them far too well and wish we didn’t. They come from different backgrounds, different walks of life, different pay grades, different generations. They’re just plain different. But we’ve been artificially mashed together in some kind of church activity—a Bible study, a Sunday school class, a small group, a ministry team. We grudgingly do our duties but keep our guards up and our masks on. We just can’t wait until this excruciating, “forced” community is over so we can get back to the people we’re comfortable with, the people we know, the people we love.

But then there’s our preferred model of community: comfort . . . familiarity . . . friends whose names we know and whose faces we’re actually happy to see. People we spend time with outside the church, people we’d actually invite for dinner. That kind of community usually means developing warm relationships with those of our own age group, our own stage of life. We love that kind of community. It feels natural. It feels more Christian. Surely, this is the kind of community we should be striving for. Clearly, the uncomfortable and awkward community can’t possibly result in a healthy church. Obviously, spiritual growth is much more likely in a community of comfort and ease rather than personality conflict and politics.

Or is it?

True Community

Not long ago a student wandered into my office to chat. After a few minutes, the conversation moved to the pervasive politics and personality conflicts involved in Christian communities. Our brief exchange went something like this:

“It’s everywhere,” I said. “Every church or ministry deals with this.”

“But we’re Christians. It’s not supposed to be that way. Doesn’t it bother you?”

At that moment I grabbed a thick book from one end of my desk and tossed it in front of him. Pointing at the volume on the history of Christianity, I said, “This is how it’s always been. This is how it will always be.” Then I placed my Bible on top of the history book. “And if you look in here, it’s exactly the same. Until Christ returns, this is the best we can hope for. But God’s Spirit works out His perfect plan in spite of us.”

It’s normal for Christians to be disappointed in Christians. We can be downright mean to each other sometimes. And if we can avoid outright conflict, there will still be frustration, inconvenience, discomfort . . . all the necessary ingredients and effects of true community.

I suggest that the more comfortable you feel in your Christian community, the less authentic the community. In 1 Corinthians 12:13 Paul writes, “For by one Spirit we were all baptized into one body, whether Jews or Greeks, whether slaves or free, and we were all made to drink of one Spirit.” Sometimes we read a passage like that and fail to think through its practical ramifications. Jews and Greeks didn’t get along in the ancient world. They came from completely different religious and cultural backgrounds, lived in separate communities, had different customs and languages. Slaves and free were from opposite social and economic communities. They didn’t mix well together. Division was the order of the day.

When these groups of men and women, slaves and masters, Jews and Greeks, were placed into one community, awkward discomfort—even outright conflict—ensued (read 1 Corinthians to see for yourself). That’s the natural result of mixing these diverse mini-communities into one meta-community. It was like mixing oil and water. Common sense tells us not to try. Church growth experts opt for affinity groups. Our emotions tell us to run in the other direction.

But shouldn’t Christian community transcend the natural? Shouldn’t it defy common sense? Shouldn’t it seek to overcome what “feels” good.

Confusion . . . discomfort . . . frustration . . . uneasiness . . . conflict. These are things of true community. These are the conditions that promote real spiritual growth. It’s easy to fake the fruit of the Spirit among people we pick as fellowship partners. It’s far more difficult to pretend love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control among those who irritate us. And putting our natural human inclinations to the test of real life gives God an opportunity to work among us in supernatural ways.

Living in True Community

Perhaps you’re feeling uncomfortable in your church, Bible study, Sunday school class, or fellowship group. Maybe it’s just a lingering sense that you’d fit in somewhere else. You’re probably right! But fitting in isn’t the goal of Christian community. The Spirit of God has been sent to create unity out of diversity, peace out of conflict, and healing out of wounded hearts. The greatest spiritual growth will come from overcoming differences, and the greatest testimony of God’s supernatural work in a Christian community will be the love and unity that results from taking the long, hard road of true community.

Don’t try to get out from under the sometimes excruciating conflict that comes through true community. Don’t try to seek out only those who share your opinions, your lifestyles, your careers. Rather, living in true community means caring for and fellowshipping with those who share nothing with us but the common bond of Christ. It may take time. It will certainly take faith, hope, and love. But the end result will be authentic relationships with real people based not on worldly reason or on fleeting feelings, but on the unifying work of the Spirit of God.

Limited or Unlimited Atonement? (Yes)

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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

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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.

Evangelical Modalism

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If I polled members of most evangelical churches in America today, I’m afraid I would discover that most are basically modalists in their understanding of the Trinity.

Modalism is the heresy that confuses the persons of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The orthodox doctrine of the Trinity states that there is one God in three persons: Father, Son, and Spirit—equal in divine essence and power but distinct in person. However, heretics throughout church history have veered off this way into one of two ditches. The first is tri-theism, which separates the three persons and basically confesses three gods, three essences, and three separate persons (and usually one of the gods is greater than the others). The second is modalism, which confuses the three persons and confesses one god and one person with three different names, depending on what role he happens to be filling.

It has become more and more evident to me that evangelicals—while avoiding tri-theism—have inadvertently run headlong into the ditch of modalism. They have done so primarily by three means: modalistic pictures, modalistic prayers, and modalistic praise.

Modalistic Pictures

If you were asked to explain the Trinity to a five-year-old, how would you go about doing it? Most evangelicals would probably resort to some sort of illustration they learned in Sunday school, read in a book, or heard from the pulpit. Two pictures prevail: “The Trinity is like water: solid, liquid, and gas” (that’s modalism). “The Trinity is like a person with different names: I’m a son to my father, a father to my son, and a husband to my wife” (that’s modalism, too). Both of these well-intentioned illustrations communicate a modalistic—not Trinitarian—doctrine of God.

Two facts emerge from two thousand years of attempting to illustrate the Trinity: 1) no picture can adequately illustrate the unillustratable God; and 2) every picture results in communicating a non-Trinitarian heresy. (For a longer discussion about the dangers of illustrating the Trinity, see my essay, “The Unillustratable God.”)

I believe the evangelical knack for illustrating spiritual truths has unwittingly misled many evangelicals into a false understanding of the Trinity. This has to stop, even if it means resorting to bare creedal Trinitarian language to define (not illustrate) the Trinity.

Modalistic Prayers

Besides modalistic pictures, evangelicals spread a confused view of God by means of modalistic prayers.

Some time back I visited a somewhat progressive evangelical church led by a pastor who I know is not a modalist and could probably state the doctrine of the Trinity as clearly and concisely as anyone could hope. However, several times during the Sunday morning service he engaged in what amounted to a modalistic prayer, confusing the Father and Son.

His various prayers went something like this: “Our great heavenly Father, we love you, we praise you, we thank you for dying on the cross for our sins, etc. . . . Lord Jesus, we give you all the glory and honor, Father, etc. . . . In Jesus’s name, Amen.”

Over and over again this pastor kept mixing up the persons of the Trinity, attributing works of the Son to the Father and vice versa. It irritated me so much that I actually felt like walking out. All the while I couldn’t help but wonder how the people in the congregation were understanding the doctrine of God based on those prayers. Contrary to the gist of that pastor’s prayer, the Father did not die on the cross for our sins (an ancient modalistic heresy called “patripassianism,” or “the suffering of the Father”). Jesus is not the Father. Although the Father is God and the Son is God, the Father is not the Son and the Son is not the Father. Father, Son, and Spirit—though united in deity—are distinct in their persons.

Now, I know all of us slip up once in a while when we pray and end up accidentally mixing up the Father and Son and Spirit. That doesn’t make us modalists. But it does cause us to confuse those who are listening—especially if they already have a shaky understanding of what we mean by “Trinity.” One easy way to solve this problem is to actually follow Christ’s teaching on prayer—direct all prayer to God the Father in Jesus’s name and by the power of the Spirit. Address the Father, thank Him for sending His Son, praise Him for giving you the Spirit. By keeping your prayers addressed to God the Father, not only will you be following the overwhelming majority of biblical examples, but you will also avoid communicating a modalistic misunderstanding of the Trinity to those listening.

I believe the evangelical penchant for spontaneous prayer sometimes leads to a confusion of Father, Son, and Spirit, which in turn communicates a modalistic concept of the Trinity. This has to stop, even if it means writing out and reading our prayers to avoid errors.

Modalistic Praise

Along with modalistic pictures and modalistic prayers, evangelicals unwittingly engage in modalistic praise. This comes in the form of popular worship songs and hymns that convey an inaccurate concept of Father, Son, and Spirit.

One worship song that particularly troubles me is “You Alone.” The problematic chorus states: “You alone are Father / and You alone are good. / You alone are Savior / and You alone are God.” But that’s just not true. A Trinitarian Christian cannot confess that God the Father (the first person of the Trinity) is alone good, Savior, and God. These are appellations that Father, Son, and Spirit share. These lyrics could be fixed in one of two ways: 1) change “Father” to a different word, such as “holy,” which would render the address to the Triune God in unity. Or 2) somehow remove the word “alone,” because this suggests that a single person—the Father—is alone God, and for those who also believe in the deity of Christ, this would suggest that the Son and the Father are the same person with different names.

Postmodern praise songs aren’t the only ones producing modalistic melodies, however. The ancient Irish hymn, “By Thou My Vision”—which is one of my favorites—precariously approaches the borders of modalism. The second verse says, “Be Thou my Wisdom, and Thou my true Word; / I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord; / Thou my great Father, I Thy true son, / Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.” In the ancient church, the names “Wisdom” and “Word” often referred to the Spirit and the Son, and in any case the “Word” (logos) is a name exclusively used in the Bible to refer to the Son in distinction to the Father (John 1:1–3, 14). Yet in the third line “Wisdom” and “Word” are both called “Father.” Then, in the last line, the normal function of the Holy Spirit—who indwells believers—is assigned to the Father. This is confusing.

I believe the evangelical approach to worship music—which sometimes emphasizes the emotional experience over doctrinal discernment—occasionally leads to a confused and confusing doctrine of God. This has to stop, even if it means changing worship songs and rewriting ancient hymns.

Conclusion

A modalistic concept of God that confuses the Father, Son, and Spirit is far too common among evangelicals today. Through sloppy pictures, prayers, and praise, the misunderstanding continues to be confessed over and over again in churches large and small. Because most believers learn their theology from preaching, prayers, and worship—that is, learning by observing and participating—we must all reevaluate our presentations and conform them to the biblical and orthodox doctrine of God.

Bible Foregrounds 1: The “Restrainer” in 2 Thessalonians 2:6-7

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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. So we should expect that the correct reading of Scripture may “echo” forward into the writings of second and third generation teachers. As a sort of exegetical experiment, I’d like to trace the “Bible foregrounds” of a number of debated issues in theological and biblical studies, and I will do this over the course of the next several months in separate essays.

The Problem: What Restrains Him?

I begin this exploration with a relatively provincial—but interesting—test question: Does the removal of the “restrainer” described in 2 Thessalonians 2:6–7 refer to the rapture of the church described in 1 Thessalonians 4:13–18?

Some understand the “restrainer” to refer to the Holy Spirit, as in John 16:7–8. Others refer it to the work of human government to restrain sin by its God-ordained system of punishment and reward (Rom 13:1–5). Or to the archangel Michael’s battle against demonic forces (Rev 12). And still others apply it to the church’s spiritual restraint (Matt 16:18–19).

First, we must explore the historical background of the passage. Paul, Silas, and Timothy had gone to Thessalonica during the second missionary journey around AD 50 (Acts 17:1–14). He wrote 1 Thessalonians around AD 51, and between the first and second letters the church had become confused—either by verbal teaching or by a letter—that suggested that the Day of the Lord had already begun and the persecutions they were suffering were at the hand of the coming “man of sin.” Paul therefore wrote 2 Thessalonians to correct their thinking regarding the order of anticipated end time events.

In connection with the issue of the coming “man of lawlessness,” “apostasy,” and “restrainer,” Paul wrote to the Thessalonians: “Do you not remember that while I was still with you, I was telling you these things?” (2 Thess 2:5). Unfortunately, because he had shared it with them orally, he did not clarify his meaning for us later readers. Instead, he wrote, “And you know what restrains him now, so that in his time he will be revealed. For the mystery of lawlessness is already at work; only he who now restrains will do so until he is taken out of the way. Then that lawless one will be revealed whom the Lord will slay with the breath of His mouth and bring to an end by the appearance of His coming.”

So the identity of the thing (or person) that restrains was already known to the Thessalonians, and was actually part of the first teaching about the faith they had received from Paul. This means that the order of end times events and the principle of the restrainer was important enough for Paul to share as part of his elementary teachings to new believers. We might assume, therefore, that Paul did the same for many of the other churches he planted. Therefore, because of the basic nature of Paul’s teaching regarding the end times and the restrainer, we would expect to see echoes of it in the early church.

I therefore pose the question: When we turn to the evidence from Bible foregrounds, which of the possibilities do we see emphasized in the early church—the restraining power of the Holy Spirit, of human government, of the church, or something else?

Bible Foregrounds: Who Knows What Restrains Him?

I should first point out that the early Christians did not see a real functional distinction between the God’s works through the Spirit and the means He uses to accomplish His purposes. So, whether we take the restrainer to be human government, the church, the conscience, or something else, ultimately God is the one who does the work through various means. To answer that the Holy Spirit restrains evil is ultimately correct, but what means of restraint was Paul describing in 2 Thessalonians 2? This leaves basically two common answers: human government or Christians (the church), among a few less common suggestions.

Human government as the Restrainer. In the early third century Tertullian gives us this following interpretation of the restrainer: “What is this but the Roman state, whose removal when it has been divided among ten kings will bring on Antichrist?” (On the Resurrection of the Flesh 24). This is the earliest clear interpretation of the passage as “human government.” Later in the third century, Chrysostom wrote that “some interpret this of the grace of the Spirit, but others of the Roman Empire, and this is my own preference. Why? Because, if Paul had meant the Spirit, he would have said so plainly and not obscurely, . . . but because he meant the Roman Empire, he naturally glanced at it, speaking covertly and darkly. . . . So . . . when the Roman Empire is out of the way, then he [Antichrist] will come” (Fourth Homily on 2 Thessalonians).

Thus, 150 years after Paul, there were already differences of opinion—the grace of the Spirit, or the Roman Empire. Tertullian and Chrysostom chose the latter, but acknowledged that there was some debate about the passage’s meaning coming out of the second century. In my study of second century literature, I have been unable to identify any clear development of the idea that human government holds back evil and the judgment of God, though some must have held this position for it to appear suddenly in the third century.

The Church as the Restrainer. If we back up to the first and second generation immediately following the apostles, however, the “foreground” looks a little different. Interestingly, in early writings we see clear examples of Christians who believed the church held back evil and that the presence of the church in the world stayed God’s hand of judgment.

Ignatius of Antioch, around AD 110, wrote: “Therefore make every effort to come together more frequently to give thanks and glory to God. For when you meet together frequently, the powers of Satan are overthrown and his destructiveness is nullified by the unanimity of your faith. There is nothing better than peace, by which all warfare among those in heaven and those on earth is abolished” (Ignatius, Letter to the Ephesians 13.1–2).

The Christian philosopher and apologist, Aristides of Athens, wrote around the year 125, “And because they [the Christians] acknowledge the goodness of God towards them, lo! on account of them there flows forth the beauty that is in the world…. And I have no doubt that the world stands by reason of the intercession of Christians” (Aristides of Athens, Apology 16).

Justin Martyr, in the middle of the second century, wrote: “For the restraint which human laws could not bring about, the logos, being divine, would have brought about, save that the evil demons, with the help of the evil desire which is in every person and which expresses itself in various ways, had scattered abroad many false and godless accusations, none of which apply to us” (Justin Martyr, 1 Apology 10). Here Justin declared that human laws were, in fact, unable to restrain evil. However, the divine “Word”—the pre-incarnate Christ—worked as a force of good in the world. This force of good would ultimately manifest itself in God’s community, the church. Later, in 1 Apology 45, Justin noted: “And that God the Father of all would bring Christ to heaven after He had raised Him from the dead, and would keep [Him there] until He has subdued the demons who are His enemies, and until the number be completed of those who are foreknown by Him as good and virtuous, for whose sake He has not yet consummated His decree [of judgment]—hear what was said by David the prophet.” Justin believed that because of the presence of the virtuous Christians on earth, God withheld His judgment. Later Justin wrote against those who suggested that Christians should just kill themselves because they valued the afterlife so much: “If, then, we [Christians] all commit suicide, we will become the cause, as far as in us lies, why no one should be born, or instructed in the divine teachings, or even why the human race should not exist; and if we so act, we ourselves will be acting in opposition to the will of God” (2 Apology 4). Finally, in 2 Apology 7, Justin wrote, “Wherefore God delays causing the confusion and destruction of the whole world, by which the wicked angels and demons and people will no longer exist, because of the seed of the Christians, who know that they are the cause of preservation in nature.” Thus, in the apologetic writings of Justin Martyr, we see many instances in which he viewed the presence of the Christians as in some sense holding back evil and the coming judgment.

At about the same time, or perhaps a little later in the second century, we find an apologetic letter written to “Diognetus.” In that letter a similar thought prevails—Christians were the moral conscience and restrainer of evil in the world:

In a word, what the soul is to the body, Christians are to the world. The soul is dispersed through all the members of the body, and Christians throughout the cities of the world. The soul dwells in the body, but is not of the body; likewise Christians dwell in the world, but are not of the world. The soul, which is invisible, is confined in the body, which is visible; in the same way, Christians are recognized as being in the world, and yet their religion remains invisible. The flesh hates the soul and wages war against it, even though it has suffered no wrong, because it is hindered from indulging in its pleasures; so also the world hates the Christians, even though it has suffered no wrong, because they set themselves against its pleasures. The soul loves the flesh that hates it, and its members, and Christians love those who hate them. The soul is enclosed in the body, but it holds the body together; and though Christians are detained in the world as if in a prison, they in fact hold the world together. . . . Such is the important position to which God has appointed them, and it is not right for them to decline it. (Epistle to Diognetus 6.1–10)

Toward the end of the second century, Theophilus, bishop of Antioch, wrote to Autolycus:

For as the sea, if it had not had the influx and supply of the rivers and fountains to nourish it, would long since have been parched by reason of its saltiness; so also the world, if it had not had the law of God and the prophets flowing and welling up sweetness, and compassion, and righteousness, and the doctrine of the holy commandments of God, would long ere now have come to ruin, by reason of the wickedness and sin which abound in it. And as in the sea there are islands, some of them habitable, and well-watered, and fruitful, with havens and harbors in which the storm-tossed may find refuge, so God has given to the world which is driven and tempest-tossed by sins, assemblies—we mean holy churches—in which survive the doctrines of the truth, as in the island-harbors of good anchorage; and into these run those who desire to be saved, being lovers of the truth, and wishing to escape the wrath and judgment of God. (Theophilus, To Autolycus 2.14)

Conclusion: You Know What Restrains Him

The evidence throughout the second century indicates that many Christian teachers believed it was due to the church’s presence in the world that Satan’s full power was restrained, that the judgment was delayed, and that humanity was preserved. Thus, from the perspective of Bible foregrounds, the echoes of apostolic teaching confirm that the Holy Spirit working through the church is, in fact, the thing that restrains Satan from fully manifesting evil through the Antichrist. When the restraining presence or power of the church is removed, God will begin pouring out His judgment.

Those who hold to an actual future rapture of Christians as described in 1 Thessalonians 4:16–17 would therefore interpret the restrainer of evil described in 2 Thessalonians 2:6–7 as the presence of Christians in the world—a thought common to a number of writers of the first and second generations of Christians after the apostles. The removal of the Christian presence in the world would thus be equated with the removal of the church at the rapture.