If your church is following the three year lectionary, Lent begins on Ash Wednesday with 2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10.  Officially, the pericope begins, “We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” (2 Cor 5:20b–5:21, ESV) In light of the fact that he is addressing established Christians, what Paul is obviously driving at here is the ongoing need for even the most committed Christians to realign their lives with the will of God.  “Be reconciled” implies that these already-converted Christian believers are not in a conciliar state with God; in fact, Paul is addressing them for a third time precisely because while claiming Christian identity, they are behaving in ways inimical to God.

At a recent gathering of primarily conservative clergy, I got some hostility but engendered much more fantastic conversation when I brought up the danger of Christianity being coopted by conservative politics. In the end, everyone agreed that Christians need to be on God’s agenda first, offering critique as well as necessarily-conditional support to any ideology, political party or strategy. This is what it means to be “the light of the world” and the “salt of the earth.”

A wise mentor once told me that people’s politics are always influencing their theology, but that the great conversation that is the inner life of the church over time corrects—and when necessary, excises—the errors that people of any given time and place incorporate.  Because of the fractured nature of the Church’s communion and witness, amplified by social media, there is a real danger of these much-needed course corrections being significantly delayed or not even engaged in.

The solution to this is to heed Paul’s words to “be reconciled to God,” which is of course, what the season of Lent is all about. The difference between the orthodox Christian construal of these words and the progressive Christian one is that for the orthodox Christian, the Bible provides the content of what being reconciled to God looks like—a detailed road map for discerning where one’s life is out of sync with the life of the triune God.  Conversely, for the progressive Christian, the Bible provides abstract theological principles, but the content comes from elsewhere, sources deemed more relevant because they are more contemporary, scientific, progressive, or whatever.

The outcome of these two approaches is what yields at least some of the divisions observable in contemporary Christianity, where people united by confessional traditions like Lutheran, Methodist, Catholic, etc. have radically different ideas of what makes for faithful Christian living.  While both agree for the need to reconcile ourselves to God, one group sees God as telling us what would constitute alignment with God, the other believes that God is “just” or “forgiving” or “love,” but asserts that what those words mean is not what Christians have traditionally thought they mean, based on the witness of Scripture.

What this means in practice is that the progressive Christian lacks any tool whereby to critique their own politically-influenced positions, for they have no data by which to evaluate them.  As long as the principles they have gleaned from Scripture seem to be met by the ideologies and morays acceptable within their own narrow cultural conditioning, they are living as God intends and no reconciliation is necessary. Conversely, for the orthodox Christian, while perceiving one’s own biases is always notoriously hard, the Scriptures provide actual canons against which to measure cultural assumptions and political prescriptions… and the exhortation to do so.

Paul goes on, “Working together with him, then, we appeal to you not to receive the grace of God in vain.” It is important that we not consign the persistent warnings of the New Testament about spiritual disqualification to the dustbin based on our theological principles, no matter how venerable or new. We can receive the grace of God in vain, and only the lifetime of persistent Christian repentance (realignment) that Luther called for in the first article of the 95 Theses can stave off that terrifying reality. So, since we cannot hope to be perfected in theology, holiness, or piety, let us be perfected in repentance, and let the Scriptures dictate to us what that should look like… furthermore, let us start today. “For [God] says, ‘In a favorable time I listened to you, and in a day of salvation I have helped you.’ Behold, now is the favorable time; behold, now is the day of salvation.” (2 Cor 6:1–2, ESV)

 

In my last article I detailed a way you could tell that “Progressive Christianity” was in fact an alternative to Christianity, namely that it held different things sacrosanct and considered other things blasphemous than Christians have since Apostolic times.  This month I will note another way in which we can see this truth demonstrated—to whom and for whom progressive Christians feel responsible.

In a recent Core Christianity podcast, Pr. Adriel Sanchez detailed an encounter he had with a “progressive Christian” pastor.  According to Pr. Sanchez, this pastor (who goes unnamed in the broadcast) was the author of a book arguing that the Bible does not proscribe homosexual behavior and that the Church had used the classic prooftexts in this regard to abuse same-sex attracted people since its inception.  Since the pastor was a neighbor, Pr. Sanchez had acquired and read the book.  His critical evaluation was that the “way in which he was approaching the Scriptures was incorrect; that rather than just letting them speak for themselves and understanding them in their context, he was twisting them and allowing—essentially—the current cultural social ethic to drive his interpretation of the Bible.”

Nothing too radical here.  This kind of critique of another theologian has characterized necessary dialogue within the Church in every era, from Irenaeus to the present day, on issues as diverse as whether Christians can ethically serve in the military to the nature of Christ’s Deity.  Indeed, though Pr. Sanchez has the advantage of time since the incident and not being engaged in a debate while presenting his story, he shows no non-verbal animosity while presenting his critique.

When he happened to have a chance meeting with this author in a local coffee shop, it seems that the conversation he engaged was handled civilly, if coolly, until Pr. Sanchez challenged the author on an issue core to their identity as pastors rather than mere theologians, pastoral rebuke as an expression of spiritual care.  Pr. Sanchez asked him, “As a pastor, when you have someone in your church whom you believe is doing something that you do think is sinful—maybe they’re abusive to their spouse or maybe they’re stealing or whatever it might be—how do you confront them lovingly as a pastor while challenging the sinful behavior?”  At that point his interlocutor after a moment of apparent shock said, “I can’t believe you asked me that question.  That was an offensive question to ask me, and [essentially] you should be ashamed of yourself.”  When Pr. Sanchez then tried to explain that he really did want to understand the other pastor’s position, the supercilious author declaimed, “No; you need to understand that you are offensive, and you need to accept that… and this conversation is over.”  Upon which he stood up and left.

I do an extensive treatment of this episode in my own podcast, but to summarize my observations, the pastor who walked away from the conversation with Pr. Sanchez clearly did not feel accountable to him as a fellow clergyman or Christian, a member of the “One Holy Catholic [Universal] and Apostolic Church.”  The issue of how to deal with these texts is a lively issue throughout the worldwide Church with most Christians (read: non-Western Christians) siding with Pr. Sanchez, but the other pastor still presumed to speak to him as a person possessing authority over him; “you need to understand… you need to accept.”

In what hierarchy did the author of the book possess more authority than Pr. Sanchez?  Clearly not the hierarchy of the Church. To what community standards did this pastor feel accountable? Whose good opinion did he crave or perhaps fear losing? Again, not those of a Church whose existence preceded him and that will endure until Christ “comes again in glory to judge the living and the dead.”  Did he by walking away from a conversation with a fellow bearer of the name of Christ show love for him, reason together with him, or even engage him in the sort of loving rebuke Pr. Sanchez queried him about to such great offense?  Did he even from his own point of view show love for the same-sex attracted individuals whom Pr. Sanchez might encounter in the course of his ministry?

No, the community to which and for which this pastor felt accountable was clearly not the “beloved community” of those baptized into Christ, but rather defined in some other way.

Though they were heretics, Arius, Valentinus, and Pelagius knew that their primary accountability was to the Church of Jesus Christ.  Though history has judged them to be in error, they fought for what they seem to have sincerely believed was its good and perhaps even what was necessary for the salvation of its members.  Indeed, they garner the appellation “heretic” only because they so earnestly fought for and remain accountable to the life of the Church Herself—because they are at least erstwhile Christians.

I believe that Progressive Christianity functionally (if not formally) quickly ceases to be Christian in any historically recognizable way precisely because of what this pastor’s behavior demonstrated, that it considers itself—and more importantly, the Church’s proclamation—accountable to standards that originate outside the Church and people whose lives are lived beyond its bounds.

 

Although the appellation “woke”—used by Ricky Gervais to the Hollywood establishment at the Oscars as “insider” language just a few years ago—is eschewed by progressives now that cultural conservatives have fastened onto it and redeployed it as a demeaning epithet, its inception in progressive circles originally indicated a true stance of religious conversion that Christians should recognize.  As the Church year winds to its eschatologically focused close and begins the new year in Advent, both Jesus and John the Baptist exhort us to “wake” up to the reality of our spiritual situation. Such an awakening is at once a combination of intellectual recognition and a posture of preparation for incipient action. “Woke” originally meant to the true believer in progressive ideals much the same thing that “newly illumined” meant to the just baptized in the early Church; it signaled the passing of a liminal threshold and the adoption of such a substantially new interpretation of age-old data points and orientation to the challenges of life as to be only capturable in the proclamation of a new identity.

It is by now not particularly provocative or insightful to interpret the constellation of ideological commitments that goes variously by the names woke, postmodern, poststructuralism, or social justice as a religion, but it is helpful to explore why this is formally rather than merely experientially the case. If religion is defined sociologically as a set of communal behaviors rather than as a set of metaphysical beliefs or commitments (a hopelessly Western definition in any case), this progressive set of beliefs above-labeled clearly functions as a religion for its adherents.

Channeling the work of Émile Durkheim, Jonathan Haidt helpfully identifies the sociological characteristics of a religion. By designating something as “sacred” a group of disparate people can have a sense of unified identity. You know you are in the presence of a thing (or value system) that has been designated by a group as “sacred” when that thing must be defended at all costs from even ridiculous or accidental insults. “Jokes, insults, and utilitarian trade-offs” cannot be tolerated if they impugn the honor of the thing held sacred because they threaten the fundamental social cohesion of the group’s acolytes. When what is at stake is the sacred, blasphemy codes dictate the range of acceptable expression, and such cannot be challenged by rational objections.

In a lecture at Duke University,[1] Haidt identified six groups that are now identified as sacred in the social justice milieu: the “big three” of blacks, women, and LGBTQIA+ along with a secondary group deemed slightly less sacred consisting of Latinos, Native Americans, people with disabilities, and more recently, Muslims.  Comments or ideas that are deemed less than laudatory of people in these groups or their behavior are met not only with outrage but disgust, an emotional response whose purpose is to get us to avoid things that are potentially poisonous to us—contagions and pathogens.

I spoke in last issue’s article of not permitting the pain of a student in my care—very real pain for which I had genuine empathy and wanted to see healed—to colonize my theology, coming to exercise a controlling influence over it. Viruses colonize their host by hijacking the cell’s DNA reproduction system, turning its very system of replication and renewal to its own purposes. The reason why progressive Christianity quickly ceases to be Christianity at all is that the Church’s ministries of renewal and replication—catechesis and evangelism—are necessarily reemployed in service of the new objects that are, in fact, now deemed sacred.

In the case of progressive Christianity, the aforementioned victim groups replace the orthodox objects of worship (the Triune God, revealed by the life, teaching, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ) as the center around which the group’s identity revolves.  In the same way, the holy tasks of pursuing an amorphously defined and ever-mutating sense of justice for these sacred victims replaces the orthodox tasks of preaching the stories of Scripture and celebrating the Sacraments commanded by God’s Sacred Victim, as well as the repentance, conversion, and amendment of life according to the revealed will of God to which these lead. Progressive Christianity quickly ceases to be formally Christian precisely because it holds different things to be sacred than does the Biblical, Apostolic faith. I will have more to say on this in the next issue, but for now it is enough to note that it represents a different religion, not a different way to be Christian.

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[1] https://youtu.be/Gatn5ameRr8?si=5elvFmZJAPTJyapK

 

“What’s all this ‘Father’ stuff about in the Lord’s Prayer?  Why should we call God ‘Father,’ anyway?” she intoned petulantly, fixing me with a stare that clearly thought no reasonable answer was possible.  It was my first year in ministry.  I had converted to Christ but a year before and now found myself teaching Luther’s Small Catechism as part of my youth minister duties at a largish program-style Lutheran church.  From my undergraduate background in the arts and my wife’s current graduate school studies, I was utterly familiar with the post-structuralism that informed her question, but despite the self-consciously progressive, university-dominated atmosphere of the town I served, I was still shocked to hear the sentiment from the mouth of a seventh grader.

I would not be shocked today… not anywhere in the United States, let alone a college town.  “How do we know God is ‘Father?’” challenged the former PASTOR of one of my parishioners in an adult Sunday School forum.  Such pugnacious personalities litter the Christian landscape of the modern West, pseudo-intellectuals who, because they came across the concept of apophatic theology in seminary, now feel they can use it to undermine Scriptural authority and thence refashion the Christian faith in a manner more congenial to their modern WEIRD (Western, Educated, Industrialized, Rich, Democratic) presuppositions and biases. 

In my last article I made the case that a specific, seemingly innocuous use of inclusive language for human beings had unexpected but potentially devastating side effects in the realm of pastoral care and Christian self-understanding.  Tinkering with Christ’s chosen address of God may have similar side effects.  Progressives like Rosemary Radford Reuther and Sally McFague purport to give us reasons we need not address God as Father.  Conservatives like Dennis Prager give us reasons we must. Still, it may well be that the question “Why should we call God ‘Father?’” may be like Job addressing God on the question of suffering, to which God responds in a way that lets Job know that he has no possible idea of full import of what he is asking—that Job lacks the capacity for God to respond in a meaningful way to such a question.  “Stop clucking in such a self-important way. You cannot possibly understand what is at play here.  Consider yourself blessed to know Me at all,” might be an apt summary of God’s speech in Job 38-41.  To address God in any other way than that revealed by God may have ripples that redound to the harm or even damnation of others and should so be avoided.

Which is why I believe that the answer that I gave the young lady mentioned above in my theological naivete is still the correct one; we call God “Father” because we are disciples—followers—of Christ, not His instructors.  If we think of Jesus as someone who merely cracked open a door on God that we can now wedge open a little wider by our own enlightened efforts, we misunderstand Him utterly as “the Word become flesh” who “dwelt” (in the Greek, skenoō or “tabernacled”) among us, who in my favorite modern translation “is in the bosom of the Father” and hence alone has the capacity to “make Him known.”

As time went on, I discovered that this young woman had good reason for negative associations with the word “father;” her own dad was an addict who had been emotionally and often physically absent until two years before when he had cleaned up and was endeavoring to “make good” in his role in her life, an effort she perceived as “pushy” and presumptuous.  What a privilege it was to teach her—as I hope I have taught my own daughter—that she has a Father in heaven who we earthly fathers can only hope to palely imitate as providers, nurturers, and self-sacrificing protectors. (Ephesians 3:14)

Had I let her indubitably real pain colonize—exercise a controlling influence—over my theology, she could never have found what I would later hear theologian Marva Dawn refer to as “the true liberation of being a woman who can without reservation call God ‘Father.’”

Grappling with Scripture as the revealed Word of God and the Apostolic faith that has informed that encounter has preserved such liberation—true liberation—for us all.

Year End 2022

Dear Friends –

I have been enjoying doing a weekly Bible study based upon the lectionary readings for the following Sunday.  A couple churches post them on their websites and Facebook pages as part of their adult education ministry, and I know of several people who use them either for their personal devotions or as resources for a small group Bible study that they lead.

This past week I was preparing a study on the Scriptures for Reformation Sunday.  In the third chapter of his letter to the Romans the apostle Paul makes a brilliant argument showing that God is both righteous and the one who justifies the person who has faith in Jesus (verse 26).  Paul says that we are “now justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a sacrifice of atonement by his blood effective through faith” (verses 24-25).  I read that verse and I thought of the movement that calls itself Progressive Christianity, which rejects the teaching that Christ died for our sins.

According to this movement, Jesus did not die for our sins.  Instead he died because he opposed the oppressive political power structures of his day.  But God raised him from the dead, showing that love wins, and now we need to join in his struggle against all the oppressive political and social power structures of our day. 

I know of a congregation where the new pastor, shortly after coming, took all the Sunday School material and with a black marker crossed off any reference to Jesus’ dying for our sins.  Then he returned the material to the teachers and told them that they were to use the amended curriculum and make no mention of Jesus’ dying for our sins.  All the teachers quit.  Good for them.

According to so-called Progressive Christianity (which I would say is not Christianity), sin, death, and the power of the devil are not three forces that hold us in bondage and we need someone to deliver us from.  And the main mission of the church is not to tell people of the Savior who loves them and who has broken the power of the forces that enslave them.  Rather, according to this view, the main message and mission of the church is to challenge people and rally people to work against all oppressive political and social power structures.

According to this view, Jesus is not a Savior.  Rather he is just an example and someone who wants to rally us to his cause.

I read the Second Reading for Reformation Sunday, and I contrast it with the main message of so-called Progressive Christianity, and I realize how much is at stake.  With what is going on in the Christian church today, everything is at stake.

I am very grateful for all the people who have told me of how they have read and deeply appreciate my analysis of the recent ELCA Churchwide Assembly.  People have shared that they also are in grief and horror over the way in which –

• The ELCA’s own description of the Highlights and its account of the Summary of Actions from the assembly make no mention of God and Jesus.  There is discussion of greenhouse gases, D. C. statehood, non-disclosure agreements, LGBTQ+ rights, and talk of dismantling racism and white supremacy, but no mention of God and Jesus.

• The Assembly took action to approve a resolution that called for a review of the 2009 human sexuality social statement and reconsideration of the four positions of bound conscience.  What could very likely occur at the next churchwide assembly in 2025 would be a massive breach of trust, as the ELCA breaks its promise to provide a place of respect for traditional views and those who hold them, all while harshly criticizing the U. S. government for breaking its promises to indigenous persons.

• The Assembly also took action to call for a commission for a renewed Lutheran church.  I shudder to think of what this reconstituted Lutheran church will have as a statement of faith and a statement of the mission of the church and the role of rostered leaders.

Yes, everything is at stake.  I am certain that the majority of the members sitting in the pews in most ELCA churches would be horrified if they knew what actually is going on.

The apostle Paul told his young friend Timothy, “Proclaim the message; be persistent whether the time is favorable or unfavorable” (2 Timothy 4: 2).  It is your prayers, words of encouragement, friendship, and faithful financial support that enable us to do that.  Thank you for joining with us in doing what the apostle Paul also wrote to Timothy – fighting the good fight, finishing the race, and keeping the faith (2 Timothy 4: 7).

Please find enclosed a form which you can use to designate a year-end gift towards our regular operating expenses as we work to be a Voice for Biblical Truth and a Network for Confessing Lutherans.  Please also let us know how we can be praying for you.  Thank you for your partnership in the Gospel, especially at this critical time when everything is at stake.    

In Christ,

Dennis D. Nelson

Executive Director of Lutheran CORE

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