Richard Muller and others in recent years have worked to clean up the reputation of the Reformed scholastic theologians. Often these theologians (Francis Turretin among them) are pegged as rigid and rationalistic, but that assumption has been challenged with some conviction. I find these words from Turretin to be quite pastoral and downright exciting:
"[T]hat theology is more practical than speculative is evident from the ultimate end, which is practice. For although the mysteries are not regulative of operation, they are impulsive to operation. For there is none so theoretical and removed from practice that it does not incite to the love and worship of God. Nor is any theory saving which does not lead to practice (Jn. 13:17; 1 Cor. 13:2; Tit. 1:1; 1 Jn. 2:3, 4; Tit. 2:12)."
Institutes of Elenctic Theology, vol. 1, p. 23
Thoughts?
Showing posts with label Reformed theology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Reformed theology. Show all posts
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Calvin on the Bounds of Curiosity
It's interesting that in some circles Reformed theology has a reputation for aiming to pin down every detail of God's being, plans, and interaction with the world. John Calvin, the fountainhead of that tradition, incessantly reminds his readers that the Holy Spirit placed in Scripture all that we need for spiritual maturity. Beyond this, he says, we're meant to rein in our curiosity and steer clear of speculation. Here's a word to the theologian from Calvin's section on angelic beings:
"The theologian's task is not to divert the ears with chatter, but to strengthen consciences by teaching things true, sure, and profitable."
Calvin, Institutes, I, xiv, 4
"The theologian's task is not to divert the ears with chatter, but to strengthen consciences by teaching things true, sure, and profitable."
Calvin, Institutes, I, xiv, 4
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Bavinck on the Attributes of God Pt. 2: Calling All Molinists!
The intensity of the debates about open theism may have died down, but questions about God's knowledge (especially his knowledge of the world) seem perennial.
Bavinck offers at least two grounds for confessing divine foreknowledge, but he also calls into question the very notion of it as a really distinct category of divine knowledge. First, he believes that all time is present to God, making it straightforward that God would know all things about the future. Second, Bavinck robustly articulates the doctrine of divine aseity (God has life in and of himself, independently of any created entities) and infers from this that, as one aspect of God, God's knowledge doesn't depend upon any happenings in the created order. God has knowledge of these before they come to pass. Yet, as mentioned, Bavinck makes us think twice about the very notion of divine foreknowledge. As with aseity, his confession of divine simplicity (essentially, God is not composed of parts) leads to an inference about God's knowledge, namely, that it is not composed of parts. In other words, we're not permitted to carve up God's knowledge as if it were composed of knowledge of the past, knowledge of the present, and knowledge of the future. Rather, God's singular knowledge includes these as aspects.
Important thoughts, I think, but the title of the post promised something about Molinism, a. k. a. middle knowledge, a perspective on divine foreknowledge traced to Roman Catholic thinker Luis de Molina and advocated today by the likes of William Lane Craig of Talbot. In order to uphold God's sovereignty over the details of his creation and his allowance for libertarian freewill, Molinists assert that God conceived of all possible events, persons, etc. and, knowing just how in all cases one thing would lead to another, chose to create such that he set in motion the course of history so that the best possible world results given the liabilities of libertarian freewill for human beings. (Please check me on this if it is a caricature.)
At the ETS conference last year Craig said middle knowledge is a versatile and useful doctrine, full of potential for answering difficult questions or objections to the Christian faith. In light of this, and in light of the fact that some of my most enjoyable theological conversations have been with a Molinist friend who might respond to this post (!), here goes Bavinck's critique of Molinism in a nutshell:
"God does not derive his knowledge of the free actions of human beings from his own being, his own decrees, but from the will of his creatures. God, accordingly, becomes dependent on the world, derives knowledge from the world that he did not have and could not obtain from himself, and hence, in his knowledge, ceases to be one, simple, and independent - that is, God."
(Reformed Dogmatics, vol. 2, p. 201)
Is this one a softball for Molinists/middle knowledgers? What do you make of it?
P. S. If you are a Molinist and regard this as a softball, don't let it drive you away from Bavinck on the whole; his Dogmatics is magisterial.
Bavinck offers at least two grounds for confessing divine foreknowledge, but he also calls into question the very notion of it as a really distinct category of divine knowledge. First, he believes that all time is present to God, making it straightforward that God would know all things about the future. Second, Bavinck robustly articulates the doctrine of divine aseity (God has life in and of himself, independently of any created entities) and infers from this that, as one aspect of God, God's knowledge doesn't depend upon any happenings in the created order. God has knowledge of these before they come to pass. Yet, as mentioned, Bavinck makes us think twice about the very notion of divine foreknowledge. As with aseity, his confession of divine simplicity (essentially, God is not composed of parts) leads to an inference about God's knowledge, namely, that it is not composed of parts. In other words, we're not permitted to carve up God's knowledge as if it were composed of knowledge of the past, knowledge of the present, and knowledge of the future. Rather, God's singular knowledge includes these as aspects.
Important thoughts, I think, but the title of the post promised something about Molinism, a. k. a. middle knowledge, a perspective on divine foreknowledge traced to Roman Catholic thinker Luis de Molina and advocated today by the likes of William Lane Craig of Talbot. In order to uphold God's sovereignty over the details of his creation and his allowance for libertarian freewill, Molinists assert that God conceived of all possible events, persons, etc. and, knowing just how in all cases one thing would lead to another, chose to create such that he set in motion the course of history so that the best possible world results given the liabilities of libertarian freewill for human beings. (Please check me on this if it is a caricature.)
At the ETS conference last year Craig said middle knowledge is a versatile and useful doctrine, full of potential for answering difficult questions or objections to the Christian faith. In light of this, and in light of the fact that some of my most enjoyable theological conversations have been with a Molinist friend who might respond to this post (!), here goes Bavinck's critique of Molinism in a nutshell:
"God does not derive his knowledge of the free actions of human beings from his own being, his own decrees, but from the will of his creatures. God, accordingly, becomes dependent on the world, derives knowledge from the world that he did not have and could not obtain from himself, and hence, in his knowledge, ceases to be one, simple, and independent - that is, God."
(Reformed Dogmatics, vol. 2, p. 201)
Is this one a softball for Molinists/middle knowledgers? What do you make of it?
P. S. If you are a Molinist and regard this as a softball, don't let it drive you away from Bavinck on the whole; his Dogmatics is magisterial.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Shout Out to Calvin at 500
The arrival of John Calvin's 500th birthday is getting quite a lot of press, but I too will dive into the fray and make a comment. Here it is: read Calvin's Institutes of the Christian Religion! Unfortunately, many Christians associate Calvin with just a particular take on the matters of providence, predestination, and election. To be sure, he has important things to say on these, but don't miss out on his treatment of the knowledge of God, God, the human person, Jesus Christ, the church, the role of the pastor, and the life of faith. His work is compelling and pastorally sensitive. Beyond this, have fun with his incredibly long titles for sections and subsections!
Monday, July 6, 2009
Theological Commitment, Eclecticism, and the Soft Ecumenism of Denver Seminary
A recent blog post by R. Scott Clark of Westminster (see http://heidelblog.wordpress.com/2009/06/25/gentle-rebuke-brother-john/) has prodded me to reflect on the ethos of Denver Seminary as a theological school that welcomes students of various traditions and denominations, urges students to distinguish between essentials and non-essentials, promotes a measure of tolerance within the bounds of the NAE statement of faith, and encourages respectful discussion (probably more than "debate") among faculty and students of differing ecclesiastical viewpoints.
Clark's post ("A Gentle Rebuke to Brother John") expresses concern about John Piper's affirmation of Doug Wilson, who is set to speak at the Desiring God conference this year. Wilson's name has been affiliated with Federal Vision theology, which, Clark relates, has been repudiated by Reformed leadership on the whole. Because Piper believes Wilson doesn't preach "another gospel" (see Gal. 1:6), Clark's post considers the question of what, in Paul's theology, constitutes another gospel. In short, he concludes that both Federal Vision theology and the new perspective on Paul have earned the label heteron euangelion. In the course of these musings, Clark avers that it is unwise to allow Piper to speak on behalf of the Reformed tradition (particularly with respect to the theology of Wilson) because, despite being at the heart of the publicity of the "new Calvinism," Piper is a Baptist and thus can't genuinely bear the moniker "Reformed." In addition, in some of the responses to the post, the interaction is critical of the cut-and-paste spirit of some evangelical theology (I don't recall specific examples, but, say, holding a Reformed view of the perseverance of saints while holding a Wesleyan view of sanctification).
The gears have been turning in my mind and I find myself feeling a bit torn. I appreciate the insistence on reaching ecclesial-theological conclusions within denominational leadership structures. I'm also in agreement that at certain points N. T. Wright's work on justification is muddy and (dare I be so blunt?!) incorrect. I think we need people who will straightforwardly address any shortcomings in his work, but I wouldn't say that he advocates a heterdox gospel.
More interesting to me are the questions all of this highlights concerning the theological posture of evangelicalism in general and my own theological school, Denver Seminary, in particular. What does it mean to be committed to a church tradition and one of its denominations? Does a school like Denver Seminary render someone non-committal and deprived of the breadth of a thick ecclesial-theological framework? What issues must we confront if we do imbibe some of the cut-and-paste or minimalist mentality of contemporary evangelicalism? (Cf. esp. Richard Lints' The Fabric of Theology wherein he calls out the evangelical tendency toward a theological minimalism that cares for just those doctrines deemed necessary for experiencing salvation.)
I wrestle with this concretely as someone influenced by the Reformed tradition but, for exegetical reasons, tied to post-conversion baptism. What Reformed theologians have written on the knowledge of God, theology proper, the relationship between Scripture and tradition, and a host of other issues has elicited my allegiance. Yet I'm not a paedobaptist and I prefer historic premillennialism to amillennialism. Should I consider myself Reformed or do these two items disqualify me? Should I consider myself a Baptist because of my beliefs about one or two dogmatic loci?
And what of the (occasional or epidemic, depending on whom you ask!) eclecticism and minimalism of evangelical theology? How can we balance the truth in eclecticism (all doctrine is subject to the scrutiny of Scripture and sometimes this requires adjustments to theological systems and fresh incorporation of insights from other traditions) and the importance of broad, integrative, systematic accounts of sacra doctrina within the fold of a given tradition? As far as theological minimalism goes, one Denver Seminary grad told me that when he and his friends were preparing to write and defend their doctrinal papers for MDiv oral exams some felt that they almost didn't know how to take a position on certain issues. I've heard others confess that they didn't really care to choose between, say, a Calvinistic conception of salvation and an Arminian conception of salvation. Many, however, have escaped the snares of theological apathy and been enriched in various ways by the push clearly to differentiate between essentials and non-essentials.
After a barrage of questions and little substantive reflection, a few brief thoughts:
1) Theological commitment is necessary even if (or partially because?) it often threatens our desire to appear nuanced to the point of intellectual elusiveness. Simplicistic attitudes and naive dogmatism should be confronted during the process of theological growth, but, after times of fine-tuning and/or jettisoning some old beliefs, we plant ourselves in the soil of particular exegetical conclusions and doctrinal frameworks. The significance of the truth of the gospel and the needs of people will allow for nothing less.
2) In the midst of wrestling with my sense of ecclesial identity, I've come to believe that it's a good thing to land in a particular church tradition and to be willing to live and move in one of its denominations. No church tradition is perfect, no denomination is perfect, and no local church is perfect. But we do well to situate ourselves in the richness of that strand of Christianity with which we most resonate and then move forward in our participation in the local church. For those of us (not least seminary students [me in particular!] in a strange time of life struggling to put down roots at a church) who need a reminder: the activity of the Father, Son, and Spirit in and through the local church, not the parachurch, remains the hope of the world.
3) Not only is a minimalist approach to theology impractical, it's also a hindrance to the formation of Christian minds and lives. On the impracticality, take the example of one friend in an Anglican church leading a small group whose members were conflicted about the use of tongues during prayer times. While differences on the charismata shouldn't preclude all Christian fellowship, not to know what he believed would have been painfully pastorally impractical for my friend. On the hindrance to forming Christian minds and lives, I take a cue from Matthew Levering (see his Scripture and Metaphysics) who says that theological contemplation is instrumental in the removal of idolatry and the generation of spiritual service.
4) I think we need to remind ourselves to think in concentric circles. There are some circles, or spheres, of the Christian life and Christian leadership in which (I think) we should adopt a soft ecumenism. (By "soft ecumenism" I mean a cooperative attitude inclusive of those committed to historic Christian orthodoxy, which, of course, has its various expressions.) In other spheres (e.g., whom do you want preaching at your church and influencing the people on a hotly debated doctrinal topic?) we do well to exercise more caution.
Time is fleeting, so I stop here! What do you think?
Clark's post ("A Gentle Rebuke to Brother John") expresses concern about John Piper's affirmation of Doug Wilson, who is set to speak at the Desiring God conference this year. Wilson's name has been affiliated with Federal Vision theology, which, Clark relates, has been repudiated by Reformed leadership on the whole. Because Piper believes Wilson doesn't preach "another gospel" (see Gal. 1:6), Clark's post considers the question of what, in Paul's theology, constitutes another gospel. In short, he concludes that both Federal Vision theology and the new perspective on Paul have earned the label heteron euangelion. In the course of these musings, Clark avers that it is unwise to allow Piper to speak on behalf of the Reformed tradition (particularly with respect to the theology of Wilson) because, despite being at the heart of the publicity of the "new Calvinism," Piper is a Baptist and thus can't genuinely bear the moniker "Reformed." In addition, in some of the responses to the post, the interaction is critical of the cut-and-paste spirit of some evangelical theology (I don't recall specific examples, but, say, holding a Reformed view of the perseverance of saints while holding a Wesleyan view of sanctification).
The gears have been turning in my mind and I find myself feeling a bit torn. I appreciate the insistence on reaching ecclesial-theological conclusions within denominational leadership structures. I'm also in agreement that at certain points N. T. Wright's work on justification is muddy and (dare I be so blunt?!) incorrect. I think we need people who will straightforwardly address any shortcomings in his work, but I wouldn't say that he advocates a heterdox gospel.
More interesting to me are the questions all of this highlights concerning the theological posture of evangelicalism in general and my own theological school, Denver Seminary, in particular. What does it mean to be committed to a church tradition and one of its denominations? Does a school like Denver Seminary render someone non-committal and deprived of the breadth of a thick ecclesial-theological framework? What issues must we confront if we do imbibe some of the cut-and-paste or minimalist mentality of contemporary evangelicalism? (Cf. esp. Richard Lints' The Fabric of Theology wherein he calls out the evangelical tendency toward a theological minimalism that cares for just those doctrines deemed necessary for experiencing salvation.)
I wrestle with this concretely as someone influenced by the Reformed tradition but, for exegetical reasons, tied to post-conversion baptism. What Reformed theologians have written on the knowledge of God, theology proper, the relationship between Scripture and tradition, and a host of other issues has elicited my allegiance. Yet I'm not a paedobaptist and I prefer historic premillennialism to amillennialism. Should I consider myself Reformed or do these two items disqualify me? Should I consider myself a Baptist because of my beliefs about one or two dogmatic loci?
And what of the (occasional or epidemic, depending on whom you ask!) eclecticism and minimalism of evangelical theology? How can we balance the truth in eclecticism (all doctrine is subject to the scrutiny of Scripture and sometimes this requires adjustments to theological systems and fresh incorporation of insights from other traditions) and the importance of broad, integrative, systematic accounts of sacra doctrina within the fold of a given tradition? As far as theological minimalism goes, one Denver Seminary grad told me that when he and his friends were preparing to write and defend their doctrinal papers for MDiv oral exams some felt that they almost didn't know how to take a position on certain issues. I've heard others confess that they didn't really care to choose between, say, a Calvinistic conception of salvation and an Arminian conception of salvation. Many, however, have escaped the snares of theological apathy and been enriched in various ways by the push clearly to differentiate between essentials and non-essentials.
After a barrage of questions and little substantive reflection, a few brief thoughts:
1) Theological commitment is necessary even if (or partially because?) it often threatens our desire to appear nuanced to the point of intellectual elusiveness. Simplicistic attitudes and naive dogmatism should be confronted during the process of theological growth, but, after times of fine-tuning and/or jettisoning some old beliefs, we plant ourselves in the soil of particular exegetical conclusions and doctrinal frameworks. The significance of the truth of the gospel and the needs of people will allow for nothing less.
2) In the midst of wrestling with my sense of ecclesial identity, I've come to believe that it's a good thing to land in a particular church tradition and to be willing to live and move in one of its denominations. No church tradition is perfect, no denomination is perfect, and no local church is perfect. But we do well to situate ourselves in the richness of that strand of Christianity with which we most resonate and then move forward in our participation in the local church. For those of us (not least seminary students [me in particular!] in a strange time of life struggling to put down roots at a church) who need a reminder: the activity of the Father, Son, and Spirit in and through the local church, not the parachurch, remains the hope of the world.
3) Not only is a minimalist approach to theology impractical, it's also a hindrance to the formation of Christian minds and lives. On the impracticality, take the example of one friend in an Anglican church leading a small group whose members were conflicted about the use of tongues during prayer times. While differences on the charismata shouldn't preclude all Christian fellowship, not to know what he believed would have been painfully pastorally impractical for my friend. On the hindrance to forming Christian minds and lives, I take a cue from Matthew Levering (see his Scripture and Metaphysics) who says that theological contemplation is instrumental in the removal of idolatry and the generation of spiritual service.
4) I think we need to remind ourselves to think in concentric circles. There are some circles, or spheres, of the Christian life and Christian leadership in which (I think) we should adopt a soft ecumenism. (By "soft ecumenism" I mean a cooperative attitude inclusive of those committed to historic Christian orthodoxy, which, of course, has its various expressions.) In other spheres (e.g., whom do you want preaching at your church and influencing the people on a hotly debated doctrinal topic?) we do well to exercise more caution.
Time is fleeting, so I stop here! What do you think?
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Herman Bavinck on the Attributes of God Pt. I
Bavinck's presentation of the doctrine of God is, in a word, masterful. In his section on the trustworthiness of God he discusses what we mean when we call God "the Truth." According to Bavinck's organisation, biblical teaching on this subject is threefold.
First, there is a metaphysical dimension to the truthfulness of God. That is, he is all that belongs to the divine nature, which is itself characterized according to God's own idea of divinity. Other "gods" do not conform to true divinity (which, again, is determined by God's own idea of divinity) and thus are deceptive, mere pretenders.
Second, there is what Bavinck calls an ethical dimension to the truthfulness of God. He is truthful in that his self-revelation corresponds to his being. His communication to us, while always accomodated to the finitude of the human mind, always accurately reflects his nature and actions. He speaks the truth about himself and always fulfills his promises.
Third, there is what Bavinck calls the logical (or epistemological) dimension of the truthfulness of God. That is, the content of God's thoughts corresponds to the way things are. In other words, his knowledge is just that: knowledge. "God's knowledge is dynamic, absolute, fully correspondent truth. It is not acquired by research and reflection but is inherent in the divine being (essential) and precedes the existence of things."
I'm thankful to God for his people's thick descriptions of him!
I wonder what it would look like to relate this three-pronged account of truthfulness to humanity. Are we, like Christ, living out all that belongs to true humanity as determined by God? Does our speech disclose only the truth about who we are and what we will do? Do we seek after authentic knowledge of God and his world?
First, there is a metaphysical dimension to the truthfulness of God. That is, he is all that belongs to the divine nature, which is itself characterized according to God's own idea of divinity. Other "gods" do not conform to true divinity (which, again, is determined by God's own idea of divinity) and thus are deceptive, mere pretenders.
Second, there is what Bavinck calls an ethical dimension to the truthfulness of God. He is truthful in that his self-revelation corresponds to his being. His communication to us, while always accomodated to the finitude of the human mind, always accurately reflects his nature and actions. He speaks the truth about himself and always fulfills his promises.
Third, there is what Bavinck calls the logical (or epistemological) dimension of the truthfulness of God. That is, the content of God's thoughts corresponds to the way things are. In other words, his knowledge is just that: knowledge. "God's knowledge is dynamic, absolute, fully correspondent truth. It is not acquired by research and reflection but is inherent in the divine being (essential) and precedes the existence of things."
I'm thankful to God for his people's thick descriptions of him!
I wonder what it would look like to relate this three-pronged account of truthfulness to humanity. Are we, like Christ, living out all that belongs to true humanity as determined by God? Does our speech disclose only the truth about who we are and what we will do? Do we seek after authentic knowledge of God and his world?
Saturday, June 13, 2009
There Really Is Nothing New under the Sun
As I read through volume one of Herman Bavinck's Reformed Dogmatics (a magisterial four-volume work only recently fully translated into English) I am reminded again of that comment in Ecclesiastes. In dealing with the epistemologies of Locke, Hume, Kant, and others, Bavinck ends up giving arguments that in many ways could have been written to respond to the controversies over postmodernism in the contemporary theological landscape. He does a remarkable job of holding together a mosaic of important epistemological commitments that are instructive for Christian thinkers today.
After reading some recent authors, one might get the impression that only with the advent of postmodernism were we made aware of the noetic effects of the fall or human inability wholly to discard bias as we study God. Bavinck's work prods us to sit at the feet of the Christian tradition to recover wisdom for addressing the theological problems of our day.
After reading some recent authors, one might get the impression that only with the advent of postmodernism were we made aware of the noetic effects of the fall or human inability wholly to discard bias as we study God. Bavinck's work prods us to sit at the feet of the Christian tradition to recover wisdom for addressing the theological problems of our day.
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