“Behold, I am sending you out as sheep in the midst of wolves, so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves.”  (Matthew 10:16)

Our Lord gave these instructions to the 72 as he “sent them on ahead of him, two by two, into every town and place where he himself was about to go” (Matthew 10:1). I often think of these words when I attend an ordination. I don’t focus on the “sheep in the midst of wolves,” although that can certainly be true. Instead, I pray that the newly ordained may be “wise as serpents and innocent as doves.” It’s a lesson every pastor needs to learn.

“What is the wisdom of the snake?” Dallas Willard asks in his classic The Divine Conspiracy. “It is to be watchful and observant until the time is right to act. It is timeliness. One rarely sees a snake chasing its prey or thrashing about in an effort to impress it. But when it acts, it acts quickly and decisively. And as for the dove, it does not contrive. It is incapable of intrigue. Guile is totally beyond it. There is nothing indirect about this gentle creature. It is in this sense ‘harmless.’”

Imagine being able to act at just the right moment in just the right way to build up the body of Christ. That’s what came to mind recently as I listened to a newly ordained pastor process some early challenges in her first call. She described two different situations that involved important ministries with key leaders involved, and she wanted to engage in appropriate ways to move the ministry forward without creating conflict. The time seemed to be right, and she brought a servant’s heart to the work. But what should she do?

She shared her thoughts with a group of people trained in discipling cultures, so we naturally began using a tool called the Discipleship Square. This tool describes the experience of growing in faith and what kind of leadership style best supports a disciple’s growth. The four stages (thus a square) are as follows:

D₁/L₁ – The initial stage marked by excitement and enthusiasm. The disciple doesn’t know what they don’t know. The appropriate leadership style is directive since disciples have little depth or experience. “I do, you watch.”

D₂/L₂ – A stage marked by a lack of confidence. The disciple knows what they don’t know. The appropriate leadership style is persuasive as disciples begin to gain understanding while experiencing doubts regarding their abilities. “I do, you help.”

D₃/L₃ – A stage marked by growing confidence. The disciple knows what they know. The appropriate leadership style is collaborative as disciples gain experience and begin to lead. “You do, I help.”

D₄/L₄ – The last stage marked by self-confidence and natural ability. The disciple doesn’t know what they know. The appropriate leadership style is to delegate since the disciples have mastered the specific ministry and effectiveness comes naturally. “You do, I celebrate your work.”

If we engage a ministry with the wrong leadership style, we can create conflict, damage people, and set the mission of the church back significantly.

John Mohan

While the Square is a very helpful description of how novice disciples move toward maturity, it is an even more powerful tool when used by a leader to engage an existing ministry that needs help. My colleague above was dealing with one ministry whose leader was willing, but didn’t know what to do. The pastor needed to use persuasive leadership (L₂ “I do, you help”) to keep the disciple engaged while he learned the skills necessary. The other ministry had a leader who knew what to do but had lost some confidence. The pastor needed to use collaborative leadership (L₃ “You do, I help”) to restore the disciples’ confidence in their existing ability.

Blessedly, both situations had disciples who understood the mission of the congregation, so my colleague didn’t have to shut down a ministry to begin again from scratch, but do you see the danger? If we engage a ministry with the wrong leadership style, we can create conflict, damage people, and set the mission of the church back significantly. But if we get it right, and engage appropriately, we can grow disciples and build up the body of Christ.

The Discipleship Square helps me get it right when I need to be as wise as a serpent and as innocent as a dove.

Editor’s Note: The conclusion of this article will be published in a second post on or about September 18, 2020.

Critical Theory—in particular, Critical Race Theory—has recently captured the Church’s attention, and in some corners of the Lord’s vineyard it seems, more significantly, Her imagination.  (For those unfamiliar with Critical Theory, this article will serve as a necessarily incomplete introduction.)  Springing from the same philosophers and theorists (Foucault, Derrida, etc.) who brought us postmodernism, Critical Theory seems to be suddenly taking the whole Western world by storm.

This is an illusion.  Though all but Liberal Arts majors would likely be unfamiliar with the Frankfurt School or even the phrase “Critical Theory,” everyone who has received an undergraduate education in the last thirty years has been familiarized with (and in many cases, indoctrinated into) its basic terminology and the categories of meaning by which it makes sense of the world.  For instance, for every one of my acquaintance at my own undergraduate alma mater of Penn State, the obligatory “professional writing” requirement for non-English majors was used by the professors as an opportunity to force-feed undergraduates Critical Theory.  As an example, a business writing class for music majors taught participants to write personal reflections on books like Stone Butch Blues, a lesbian coming of age story, instead of memos, letters to parents, and departmental requisitions.  Even if you think the exposure salutary, it demonstrates the tactics of Critical Theory, which, as its exponents readily affirm, “contains an activist dimension. It tries to not only understand our social situation but to change it, setting out not only to ascertain how society organizes itself along racial lines and hierarchies but to transform it for the better.”[1]

Solid introductions to Critical Theory by both its proponents and opponents are now widely available, and I encourage the reader to consult at least one of each to familiarize themselves with its outlines; otherwise, as commentator Phil Blair demonstrated in his response to a recent Christianity Today article, we may find ourselves employing it unbeknownst to ourselves.

Heresy

Though articles abound that are critical of Critical Theory (hereafter referred to as CT) from a Christian perspective, as mine is, I hope to explore the topic from an at least slightly different perspective; I propose that while CT may properly diagnose some elements of our cultural ills, it necessarily misaddresses these maladies because it is in fact a secularized Christian heresy.

The Critic Is Often Right About What Is Wrong, But He Is Nearly Always Wrong About What Would Be Right.

I want to start by acknowledging what CT—and progressive ideologies more generally—often get right.  One of the functions of the people in a society that are typically deemed “liberal,” “left,” or “progressive” is to point out injustices when they accumulate.  Any meritocracy (where achievement or talent is rewarded with social and/or economic upward mobility) periodically and predictably accumulates inequity and unfairness at its margins.  At a biological level, talent and giftedness are inborn traits that often run in families.  Sociologically, families pass on habits and knowledge that maximize (or minimize) inherent capacities for greater achievement and reward.  The greatest patrimony that a family passes on in a meritocracy is not their wealth—though that certainly has undeniable advantages—but rather their knowledge and skills in accessing or leveraging the power structures of the meritocracy.

This does not mean that a meritocracy is inherently immoral. (What would we want, a system where lack of talent, industry, and skill is rewarded?) But it does mean that for all the good it may produce, it is a system that can put real people at a real disadvantage in accessing the social and economic rewards deemed legitimate by the value system at its foundation; it is a system that needs a watchdog that calls for course corrections when the process whereby “the rising tide that lifts all boats” creates eddies and riptides that prevent people from weighing anchor and setting sail.

In his book The Righteous Mind, Jonathan Haidt contends that in the same way all the complex flavors of the world’s cuisines are composed of the tongue’s four basic tasting capacities—sweet, sour, salty, and bitter—the great diversity of moralities to which people ascribe are woven from the five basic “cognitive modules” with which we define and evaluate morality and justice.  Defined in terms of their antipodes, these modules are care/harm, fairness/cheating, loyalty/betrayal, authority/subversion, and sanctity/degradation.  Haidt names this Moral Foundations Theory.

One need not agree with Haidt’s thesis about the origins of these cognitive modules to see their utility as an interpretive grid.  In analyzing the political application of the theory, Haidt, who identifies himself as a liberal, discovered that those who measured as the most “liberal” registered highly in the care/harm and fairness/cheating categories but little to not at all in the other three.  Though caring and fairness were also the dominant categories for those who registered as the most “conservative,” people with these political leanings showed a near convergence with the other three concerns of loyalty, authority, and sanctity:

What this means is that if it seems that the proponents of Critical Theory are “tone deaf” to some of the moral concerns expressed by other, more “conservative” people, it is because they are.  For the “liberal” adherent of CT, the mere presence of inequity is all the proof needed that injustice is occurring.  Questions of whether people have demonstrated the social virtues of developing skills (that is, demonstrating loyalty to the system’s values) are largely not considered, or if they are, the need to do so is defined as part of the oppression inherent in “the system.”  Likewise, the need to “pay one’s dues,” which recognizes the system’s authority, is construed as more evidence of injustice rather than a period of necessary apprenticeship during which there is predicted inequity between those who have acquired the sought-after skills and resources and those currently acquiring them.  Finally, the need to exhibit sustained effort with or without immediate reward—the most sanctified value in a meritocracy—is despised most of all as the mechanism of systemic injustice because, although such effort generally yields overall improvement in the socio-economic position of a given class of people, there is no guarantee in any particular instance that the effort so exerted will result necessarily in equity.  The moral concerns of three of the five moral cognitive modules are not only temporarily bracketed to focus analysis on the issue of fairness, for the “liberal,” they quite literally do not register as things worthy of assessment and for the critical theorist, they are merely attempts to obfuscate the real issue, which is measurable equity.

Moreover, the proponent of Critical Theory does not need to provide measurable criteria whereby to evaluate the claims of their analysis.  The existence of the inequity natural to and predicted by a system that rewards merit is the prima facie evidence that revolution is needed.  Whether the proposed system could actually create the desired equity and whether that equity would be balanced with other moral concerns  (everyone living in social and/or economic squalor is, after all, a type of equality) need not be seriously contemplated, because the only value in view is equity, which is defined as fairness that provides the necessary care for everybody.

This is how these critics can be right about what is wrong (that is, in Critical Race Theory, the form of CT most affecting the life of the Church at present, racial inequities), but so wrong about what would put these wrongs right; their theories are not based upon a morality with a complex enough palate, capable of fine enough distinctions.

Eschatology and Anthropology

This is also in part why Critical Theory is a comprehensive worldview; in merely noting inequity, it believes that it has accounted for all the most significant moral variables—the only ones that count.  It must then flatten all human experience into the narrow interpretive grid it deems the only valid one.

Four Fundamental Questions

The late Ravi Zacharias helpfully delineated at least four fundamental questions of human life to which any worldview must propose an answer: human origin, meaning, morality, and destiny.  Because of the 1925 “Scopes Monkey Trial,” the issue of origins has dominated the intellectual landscape of the Western Church for the last 100 or so years.  First, it dominated the popular imagination as “yet another case” of backward religionists resisting reason’s inevitable march of progress in accord with the Enlightenment’s self-narration.  (Yes, this was first. Scopes deliberately implicated himself so that a trial would need to be held and Darrow deliberately had the trial played out by a sympathetic urbane media in the court of public opinion as part of his legal strategy.)  The attempts to condemn Intelligent Design as veiled religious dogma are the intellectual descendants of that controversy.  Secondly, it precipitated a growing crisis within the Church between Fundamentalists and Modernists, who believed a dating of the age of the earth to greater than 7,000 years was congruent with orthodox Biblical interpretation.  The inheritors of that dispute are the Young Earth versus Old Earth Creationist debates of today.[2] 

“Your theology can never be better than your anthropology,” was one of the favorite axioms my Prophets professor in seminary passed on to us from his mentor.  Of course, being self-consciously orthodox, I thought that axiom got it exactly backward; our theology—specifically our Christology and soteriology—necessarily defines our understanding of human nature, so our anthropology can never be better than our theology.

Unfortunately, the Western Church’s obsession with origins has led to a relative neglect of the way our understanding of who Jesus is and what salvation fully entails informs our understanding of what human beings are (our meaning), how we should live (our morality), and our purpose or telos (our destiny).  The preaching of Jesus predominantly as life coach, social activist, friend of sinners, prophetic preacher, social reformer or even atoning sacrifice for sinners, has led to the neglect of the consistent preaching of Jesus as the God-Man or Theanthropos, a new species in God’s economy of salvation.[3]  “God became man that man might become [like] God,” exulted Irenaeus of Lyons in his second century classic Against Heresies, going on to declare as the soteriological significance of that teaching that “the glory of God is a [hu]man fully alive.”

Great Tradition Christianity proclaims that the ultimate destiny of redeemed humanity is not merely to avoid hell (Jesus as the cosmic get-out-of-jail-free card) or to emulate Jesus as the finest example of a fully self-realized or perfectly moral human person, but rather to become “partakers of the divine nature” (2 Peter 1:4).  Through our Sacramental union with Jesus, who was fully God and fully human, by faith in His promises, we are drawn into the perichoretic inner life of the Godhead, the most Holy Trinity.  As the Theanthropos, Jesus is the “firstborn among many brothers” (Romans 8:29), not the only-born to be admired and worshipped, but whose life remains fundamentally distant from our own.

This teaching about the implications of salvation through Christ for our destiny as human beings thoroughly conditions and shapes all other elements of our theology.  In other words, remembering the fullness of our destiny as human beings in Christ has far more impact on our understanding of what is the meaning of human life and the morality by which it is to be lived than our understanding of our origins.

---

[1] Richard Delgado and Jean Stefancic. Critical Race Theory: An Introduction. (New York: New York University Press, 2017), page 8.

[2] If you speak the first article of the Nicene or Apostles’ Creed without crossing your fingers, you are a creationist of one stripe or the other; it is important that non-fundamentalist Christians be absolutely clear on this point and think through the consequences of that position as distinct from a functional Deism.

[3] Justification by grace through faith—forensic justification—may indeed be the doctrine upon which the Church stands or falls as Martin Luther declared, but it was never meant to be preached denuded of the very Christology that makes it so powerful and poignant.

“You love evil more than good, falsehood more than speaking what is right.  You love all words that devour, O deceitful tongue. But God will break you down forever; He will snatch you up and tear you away from your tent, and uproot you from the land of the living.”  (Psalm 52:3-5)

 

The wicked tongue shall not survive.  Why do you cling to that which is already condemned?  Come then into the rest of the Lord and give up the vain ways of this world.  DO not cling to that which is destructive, but come into the hope of glory that comes through grace.  Live into the life into which You have been called through grace by faith.  Let your wicked heart be uprooted and replaced with a heart like Christ’s.

 

Lord, You know all the complexities of the heart and the ways in which it plays games with me.  Blot out my iniquities and take away those things which hinder me from living life as You have designed it to be lived.  Guide me O Lord into Your grace that I may begin again the journey to which grace calls me.  Help me through all obstacles to live, speak and have my being in You.

 

Lord Jesus, You have come to forever shatter the wicked and their ways from ruling in life.  Though there remains this season in which the wicked endure, let me not be counted among them.  Instead, guide me by Your grace to come into the life to which You have called me by Your provision to seek the goodness You offer.  Help me now and always to cling to You, the finisher of my faith.  Amen.

“Why do you boast in evil, O mighty man?  The lovingkindness of God endures all day long.  Your tongue devises destruction, Like a sharp razor, O worker of deceit.”  (Psalm 52:1-2)

 

Wickedness has always been around and in the midst of our comfort we do not see the evil plotted by those who are bent upon destruction.  From the heart and out of the mouth comes deceit, malice, envy and bitterness.  The call of the Lord is to have a new and clean heart that abandons the heart of this age for the eternal goodness of the Lord.  Be not wicked, but come into the righteousness of the Lord.

 

At many levels, there is within me that which can and does behave like those who practice wickedness.  You, O Lord have called me into a new life that no longer rebels against the goodness You have established, but desires to come into the truth that in You alone is hope.  Come Holy Spirit and renew in me a right spirit that I would hold fast to You and the goodness You give.

 

Lord Jesus, in the face of the rebellious age, You have given the means of forever escaping the self-destructive ways of this world.  Guide me O Lord that I would live in Your grace and live into a life that seeks righteousness.  Help me now and always to hold fast to the truth You have revealed that I might become like You and do the Father’s will on earth as it shall be done in heaven.  Amen.