22 June 2005

"For the sins of the whole world"

A friend who struggles with Calvinism writes:
Calvinists never seem to face 1 John 2:2 head on. It says, "He is the propitiation for our sins: and not for ours only, but also for the sins of the whole world." Calvinists always dismiss the plain meaning of the verse, saying that "whole world" can't possibly mean the whole world, because if it did, it would include trees and mountains and rivers and slugs and termites and other stuff.

Here's what a thoughtful Calvinist might say about 1 John 2:2, without resorting to the "slugs and termites" argument:

The apostle is writing to a primarily Jewish audience. He reminds them that Christ "is the propitiation for our sins; and not for [us Hebrews] only, but also for [the sins of Gentiles from every tongue and nation throughout] the whole world."

Notice, the phrasing of John 2:2 is an exact parallel of John 11:51-52: "He prophesied that Jesus should die for that nation; and not for that nation only, but that also he should gather together in one the children of God that were scattered abroad."

Consider:



There is little doubt that this is how John's initial audience would have understood this expression. "The whole world" means "people of all kinds, including Jews, Gentiles, Greeks, Romans, and whatnot"—as opposed to "ours only"—i.e., the Jewish nation.

What the apostle John is saying in the John 11 passage is particularly significant: Christ died so that he might gather "the Children of God"—the elect—from the whole world. That is a very clear and explicit statement of so-called "limited atonement."

Understood in its Johannine context, then, a Calvinistic interpretation of 1 John 2:2 seems unavoidable. As one classic work on the atonement says,
The words plainly allude to the atonement as offered and applied—that is, to the actual expiation, which does not go beyond the number of believing recipients. It is a perversion of the language when this is made to teach the dogma of universal propitiation; or that atonement was equally offered for all, whether they receive it or not, whether they acknowledge its adaptation to their case or not. The passage does not teach that Christ's propitiation has removed the divine anger in such a sense from all and every man. Nothing betokens that the apostle had others in his eye than believers out of every tribe and nation.
(George Smeaton, The Apostles' Doctrine of the Atonement, 460).



BlogSpotting where I left off Monday


  • Justin Taylor tags me with a book meme, which is probably going to stall right here at PyroManiac, because it came just at the start of my vacation, while I was off line—and I came home to a desk full of urgent stuff. How about I just keep it here until someday when I'm looking for something good to blog about? Then I'll resurrect it just when everyone least expects it. If someone out there would like to be tagged with it, let me know.
  • Carla Rolfe thinks you people are all snobs.
  • Frank Martens is euphoric when he discovers that a "Blogspotting" entry causes his hit counter to increase. When you visit his site, hit "reload" at least five times, and tell Frank I sent you. It's a cheap and harmless tonic for both him and me.
  • Bret Capranica thinks I am out of control. He notes with barely-contained glee that I haven't been able to keep my promise to blog only sporadically. Hey, Bret, tell Kelly hi from Darlene and me. Here's a miniature of the Bobble-head for her:
  • Kevin Jones wonders what he has to do to get BlogSpotted. I thought Jared over at the Nexus of the Cerebral Universe® had already made that clear.


Of course, I do miss the occasional blogreference, no matter how unrelentingly I Google for blogged links to PyroManiac. If anyone wants to be sure to get BlogSpotted, send me an e-mail with a link to your blogged insult, disagreement, mockery, or words of appreciation. I try my best to be an equal-opportunity BlogSpotter.


20 June 2005

Blogspotting Again

  • Swamphopper at The Rough Woodsman has some nice things to say. He points muddled people this way.
  • Jared at Thinklings was confused about whether I'm confused about the correct way to handle links to other blogs. He notes "that when most bloggers do a posted collection of links, they don't normally just collect links to posts about themselves." Yes, I know. That's what the blogroll is supposed to be for, isn't it? Problem is, I keep finding links to PyroManiac, and I want to interact with them all—friends and critics alike. It's my nod to the native narcissism of the blogosphere. Plus, it helps my mom keep track of all the new things people have found to criticize me for.


That's all I have time for now. My flight is about to board.


Monday Menagerie III

PyroManiac devotes Monday space to esoteric and offbeat things, in the hope that these will supply learning experiences for us all.

I'm writing from one of my favorite spots in the world, the ferry landing at Mukilteo, WA. The ferry to Whidbey Island docks adjacent to the Mukilteo lighthouse, one of the best-looking and most easily-accessible lighthouses in the world. You can walk to the top for a close-up view of its really-cool lens. The famous Ivar's Mukilteo Landing Restaurant on the opposite side of the ferry entrance has been there for decades, with a walk-up window to serve clams and fish and chips to people waiting for the ferry.

A cup of cappuccino would make my morning perfect. You can normally get a nice cappuccino within short walking distance of any given point in the Seattle metropolitan area, and this place is no exception. I walk over to Woody's, an establishment across the street from the lighthouse. It looks more like a bait shop than a coffee shop, but the cappuccino is first-class. The foam is at least two inches think, with a sprinkling of cinnamon on top.

You say "Cappuccino";
I say "Capuchini"


Thinking about cappuccino reminds me of another of my favorite places in the world. It's the most macabre and fascinating tourist attraction I have ever seen: the Capuchini Catacombs in Palermo, Italy.

Cappuccino, you may know, is so named because its color matches the trademark hooded garment of a Capuchin monk. The Capuchins are an order of Franciscans founded about the same time the Protestant Reformation began in the early sixteenth century. The Capuchini recognized the need for reform in the church, but instead of doctrinal reform, they favored an approach that called for a return to the strict austerity of the original Franciscans. They were a monkish version of the strictest kind of fundamentalists. They went barefoot, lived in extreme poverty, and adopted a famous hooded habit like the one worn by St. Francis. (The garment, known as a capucize, was so much the emblem of the order that their name was derived from it. Padre Pio, famous mystic and stigmatist, now a saint, was a Capuchin.)

The early sect was much persecuted, even by other Franciscan friars. The pope made a rule confining the Capuchin order to Italy. One of the Capuchini's two founders soon left, and the other was expelled for insubordination. The third Capuchin vicar-general, Bernardino Ochino, was supposedly converted to Protestantism and became a Calvinist. The pope responded to that "setback" by forbidding all Capuchins to preach. (Ochino later flirted with Socinian ideas and was expelled from Zurich.)

Meanwhile, however, as the Roman Catholic Counter-Reformation gained influence and the truth about worldliness and corruption in the Roman system was exposed even from within, reform movements like the Capuchini became increasingly popular. Within a decade after the Council of Trent, Italy boasted some 17,000 Capuchin monks.

By the beginning of the sixteenth century, leading elements in the Capuchin order seem to have acquired a macabre fascination with death—human remains in particular. The Capuchin brothers specialized in various kinds of "burial art"—making decorations from human bones, and preserving the dead for display.

My first personal encounter with Capuchini deathcraft was in Rome, about a decade ago. The Capuchini have decorated the crypt of the church of Santa Maria della Concezione on Via Vittorio Veneto street (near Piazza Barberini) with thousands of human bones. The Marquis de Sade visited there and wrote of the place in 1775. It was just his cup of tea.



So a few years later, while teaching at a conference in Sicily, a small group of us were traveling near Palermo (under the guidance and hospitality of our dear friends Joe and Georgia Aleppo). Another good friend and fellow pastor, Carey Hardy, pointed out an ad in one of those local-attraction magazines for tourists. The ad featured a gruesome picture of a rotted corpse, and promised thousands of similar mummified cadavers on display at the Capuchin Crypt in Palermo.

Naturally, Carey and I both wanted to go there without delay.

Our wives were less enthusiastic, of course, but we prevailed. It turned out to be well worth the trip. There are literally hundreds if not thousands of ancient corpses in the crypt, dating back to the early 1600s, all in various states of decay, and most dressed in their finest clothing. They are on display right in the open, not behind any glass or bars.

Apparently, the crypt's collection began in 1599, when the Capuchini preserved one of their own so that they could actually see him while they prayed to him. The properties of dry air and temperature in the crypt turned out to be perfect for drying and preserving corpses, and the friars perfected methods of preservation that produced better and better results all the time. Wealthy citizens of Palermo all wanted to be preserved there, so that relatives could always visit. Thus the crypt holds many wealthy and important figures, including Giovanni Paterniti, American Vice Consul, who died in 1911.

Some of the remains are mere skeletons, but many others, apart from being shrivelled and creepy and looking very much like discarded props from horror movies, are amazingly well preserved, with every pore in the skin still visible and almost every hair still intact. In some cases, the corpse's clothing is more decayed than the carcass itself. The clothing alone is a fascinating study in the evolution of styles.



One famous mummy is the perfectly-preserved body of Rosalia Lombardo, a child who died about 1920 and was one of the last corpses added to the collection before city officials prohibited any more. She is preserved with perfect lifelikeness and color.

Darlene did not enjoy the Capuchin crypt. I was so fascinated by the authentic 400-year-old clothing and the sketchy life stories of the corpses that I could have spent hours there. It remains my top recommendation for the most interesting tourist attraction I have ever seen, and a graphic reminder of the truth of Isaiah 40:6-8: "All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field . . . The grass withereth, the flower fadeth: but the word of our God shall stand for ever."



Now I'm ready for clams at Ivar's. See you when I get home.


16 June 2005

A few days' vacation. See you after.

I'll be gone this weekend. I'm leaving early this morning for a conference sponsored by a FIRE church in a different part of the country. I would tell you where, but with so many people perturbed with me at the moment, that might not be prudent.

Anyway, I don't know whether I'll be able to blog at all till I get home on Tuesday. It's an opportunity for me to stay out of mischief for awhile, and I'm going to take it. Even when I do get home, I have a busy summer ahead and will almost certainly not be able to blog with the ferocious frequency of the past 2 weeks. Now that PyroManiac is truly and officially launched, I'm going to have to get into a slower rhythm with it.

One thing I've learned: I'll never, no matter how hard I try, be able to match the volume and quality of stuff blogged by James White, much less Steve Hays. How those guys manage, I'll never know. But I respect them both more than ever, having tried my hand at blogging in earnest.

So enjoy a PyroManiac-free few days, and look for me when I get back.


15 June 2005

The Do-It-Yourself Group Blogging Kit for Emerging Religious Types



Virtual drinking guilds and smoking-fraternity group blogs are all the rage these days—especially those devoted to picking fights about theology and religion. Here's a step-by-step guide to everything you need to start your own similar frat-house-cum-religious-debate blog. Follow my advice, and you and your coterie of compadres can soon be starting your own theological food-fights in the virtual realm, just like the Big Boys:

  1. You have to have a clever name. Pub-names (as well as names of famous writers' brotherhoods who once hung out in pubs) have been done to death. Yawn. Try something fresh: adapt the name of your favorite sports team ("Manchester Separated"), motorcycle club ("Heaven's Devils"), fast-food joint ("Bloggo Bell") or something similar. (I don't think "Posse Blogitatus" has been used yet. Whoever takes it first can have it, courtesy of the PyroManiac.)
  2. Recruit five to ten contributors with major attitudes. They don't necessarily have to be able to think; but they must be outspoken. Some of the über-bad-boy bloggers use copious amounts of brew to achieve the desired effect. I don't recommend this. Your blogger-team can include women, but they must be kept mostly in the background—and it's good if they at least try to be cruder than the guys.
  3. Always blur lines. Especially blur the lines between humor and malevolence; between cleverness and bad taste; and between fresh thinking and old heresies. Mock what is sacred and celebrate what is worldly, but never do this overtly or without a disclaimer—no matter how insincere the disclaimer.
  4. Speaking of fresh thinking, be careful to guard against affirming any old ideas. You don't want to be thought of as too staid. You must be provocative if you are going to compete in the cutting-edge religious-frat-house-blog marketplace. If you are concerned about retaining your good standing in your church or some Christian organization that you work for, you don't really need to advocate anything unorthodox to accomplish this. It's sufficient just to question the old orthodoxies.
  5. In fact, be careful not to affirm too much of anything. Instead, ask questions; raise doubts; stir controversy; foment scepticism. Again, always include the requisite disclaimers.
  6. Tolerate no criticism from readers. You might have to turn off the comments at your blog if your blog-team isn't clever enough to answer detractors. (By "answer" I mean, of course, that you need to insult and belittle them with personal put-downs.) One blog ran out of insults before running out of critics, so they devised a brilliant all-purpose answer for every criticism: Just tell people you are having a "private" conversation, so would-be critics of your ideas should pay you no mind. Inventive, huh?
  7. Now, here's the coup de grâce—a virtual cheat-sheet so that when you can't think of anything truly clever, you can still sound theologically erudite: Do-It-Yourself Impressive Theological Constructs®.

Voila! Your own group blog.

Now get blogging.


A PyroManiac talks about FIRE

PyroManiac: A Blog by Phil Johnson
I'm a member of FIRE—The Fellowship of Independent Reformed Evangelicals. FIRE's doctrinal stance is specific (Baptistic, soteriologically Calvinistic, and historically evangelical on all key fundamental doctrines), yet charitably broad with regard to many of the secondary matters about which Particular Baptists have often differed among themselves.

Fire is a fellowship of like-minded churches and Christian leaders, not a denomination. There is no centralized structure or authority. There are no membership fees. There are no paid staff or permanent offices. Annual conferences and other activities are initiated and overseen by the local churches that host them. The network functions only through the voluntary participation of members. Yet it is a thriving, warm fellowship, of which I am pleased to be a part.

Check out FIRE's website for free downloadable resources.


14 June 2005

On Baptist Confessions and the Dumbing-Down of Doctrinal Standards


Sam Waldron has written an article responding to a controversial piece by Shawn Wright ("Should you use the 1689 London Confession in your church?"), which was posted last month at the 9Marks website.

Waldron's article is also posted at the 9Marks site, with a very gracious introduction from Mark Dever, Executive Director of 9Marks Ministries.

I have no dog in this fight, since I don't hold to every detail of the 1689 Confession's Sabbatarianism anyway. The church where I serve uses a different (though still fairly detailed) doctrinal statement, which was written by the elders here long before I came. But I nonetheless think the 1689 is a fine confession—in some significant ways superior to the 1644 London Baptist Confession, which I do affirm without reservation. (By the way, I think there's much to be said for using the historic confessions, rather than writing a brand new one every time we plant a church. That's a slightly different issue than the debate between Wright and Waldron. But only slightly.)

Anyway, I read both articles, and I agree in principle with Waldron's objections to Wright's rationale. Here's the money quote:

Wright’s position requires that the church confess only as much as its newest, baptized member understands and believes. This is clearly wrong. Surely the Bible requires the church to believe and confess much more than this. The great Reformation confessions are treasuries of what the church had come to believe over the previous 1600 years. The confession of the church must not be held hostage to the immaturity of its youngest members. The youngest members must be nurtured redemptively and lovingly up into the fullness of its faith.

I'm glad 9Marks posted the follow-up. Waldron's article is wonderfully clear, and his discussion of the role of doctrinal statements says exactly what I would have wanted to say—only Pastor Waldron says it far more elegantly and succinctly than I could have.


13 June 2005

More BlogSpotting




Monday Menagerie II

PyroManiac devotes Monday space to esoteric and offbeat things, in the hope that these will supply learning experiences for us all.

The following is an excerpt from an article I wrote for Masterpiece magazine several years ago.

Get Into Your Kids' Heads.

It's Fun.




Debrief your kids after Sunday school. It's great fun, and you'll find out exactly which truths they are learning and which ones are going over their heads.

One of the most interesting people I have ever known was a four-year-old named Holly. My wife and I used to watch her for several hours each day while her mother taught half- day kindergarten. Holly and I quickly became close friends, and we had many profound conversations.

Holly was exceptionally well behaved and had an extraordinary interest in spiritual things. One day, however, she seemed determined to be naughty. I don't remember exactly what she was doing wrong. It was nothing serious, but it was out of character for her. After having to speak to her about her behavior several times, I asked in frustration, "Holly, what's wrong with you today?"

"I don't know," she sighed. "I just can't seem to get my life straightened out."

Her tone was so solemn and sincere that I had to suppress the urge to laugh. "Well, what's the problem?" I probed.

"I think it's the Disciples' fault," she said in dead earnest.

Thinking she was talking nonsense to try to cover for herself, I spoke in a tone that said I was irritated: "Oh, come on, Holly. How could the Disciples have anything to do with whether you misbehave or not?"

Her eyes got wide and she leaned forward as if to let me in on a deep secret. "They were very evil men."

Now I felt caught. I didn't want to dismiss the conversation without addressing this notion that the Disciples were sinister, but I was reluctant to let her steer our talk away from the issue of her impish behavior. Knowing this had the potential to become a very long session, I nevertheless decided to deal with one issue at a time.

"The Disciples were not evil men," I challenged her.

"Oh, yes," she corrected me. "They wouldn't let the little children come to Jesus."

"OK," I conceded, "they did wrong things sometimes, but they were mostly good men. They were Jesus' helpers."

"That's right," Holly said, as if she were the teacher and I were the student. "They were Jesus' helpers—but they tried to keep the children away. They were the bad guys." This was cut and dried to her, and she was visibly shocked at my willingness to defend anyone who would try to keep little children away from Jesus.

I quickly decided it would be prudent to abandon that part of the discussion. "Holly, the Disciples were not evil," I said with finality. "But even if they were, I don't see what that has to do with your bad behavior."

She exhaled impatiently and explained: "I asked Jesus to come into my heart and wash away all my sin. I think He must have let the Disciples help, and they didn't do a good job!"

Think about it. Holly's logic was impeccable. Using all the theological knowledge she had, she had concocted the most coherent explanation for sin in a Christian's life that her four-year-old mind could put together. In some ways it makes much more sense than the excuses we adults come up with. Yet I would never have understood what she was thinking if I hadn't kept asking questions.

Holly and I had many discussions about the Disciples after that, and it took me quite a long time to convince her that they weren't bad guys. But she came around. Fortunately, she grew to understand the doctrine of sanctification a little better. She's now grown up, with a family of her own.

I'll bet she's having fun finding out what her kids learned in Sunday school.


12 June 2005

Machen Speaks from the Grave

I'm preaching through Galatians in Gracelife—the group I pastor at Grace Community Church. Later this morning, I'll be dealing with the passage in chapter 2 where Paul publicly rebuked Peter for consorting with the Judaizers.

It's a passage that has some important lessons for Christians today. Many mostly-sound evangelical leaders are currently telling us we need to seek a kind of pragmatic co-belligerency with people who deny the principle of sola fide, in order to win the supposedly all-important moral crusade currently being waged by the religious right. That's similar to the approach Peter seems to have taken with the Judaizers. Paul, on the other hand, clearly regarded every kind of tolerance toward the Judaizers as a sinful act of participation in their evil deeds (cf. also 2 John 7-11).

Anyway, in the process of my study, I came across this quote from J. Gresham Machen's Christianity and Liberalism. It was written more than 80 years ago. Machen could not have foreseen how popular it would become for evangelicals to turn aside from the gospel in favor of political causes. But Machen's words say precisely what most evangelicals in 2005 desperately need to hear and come to grips with:
What a splendid cleaning up of the Gentile cities it would have been if the Judaizers had succeeded in extending to those cities the observance of the Mosaic law... Surely Paul ought to have made common cause with teachers who were so nearly in agreement with him; surely he ought to have applied to them the great principle of Christian unity.

As a matter of fact, however, Paul did nothing of the kind; and only because he (and others) did nothing of the kind does the Christian church exist today. Paul saw very clearly that the difference between the Judaizers and himself was the difference between two entirely distinct types of religion; it was the difference between a religion of merit and a religion of grace. If Christ provides only part of our salvation, leaving us to provide the rest, then we are still hopeless under the load of sin. For no matter how small the gap that must be bridged before salvation can be attained, the awakening conscience sees clearly that our wretched attempt at goodness is insufficient even to bridge that gap. The guilty soul enters again into the hopeless reckoning with God, to determine whether we have really done our part. And thus we groan again under the bondage of the law. Such an attempt to piece out the work of Christ by our own merit, Paul saw clearly, is the very essence of unbelief; Christ will do everything or nothing, and the only hope is to throw ourselves unreservedly on His mercy and trust in Him for all.

Paul certainly was right. The difference which divided him from the Judaizers was no mere theological subtlety, but concerned the very heart and core of the religion of Christ.



11 June 2005

Blogspotting Bonus

Happy birthday to me. Today I turn 52. I'll probably take most of the day off.





10 June 2005

Ken Taylor, 1917—2005

Ken Taylor, who produced and published The Living Bible, died today at his home in Wheaton.

I never met Ken Taylor, but he was an editor at Moody Press a few years before I began my own career in the office next to the one he once occupied. He was also an author. One of his books, a collection of very simple Bible stories with old-fashioned artwork for very young children—titled The Bible in Pictures for Little Eyes—was Moody Press's number-one bestselling title for many years. (It may still be Moody's all-time best-seller for all I know, but Moody updated it with new artwork, and I have never liked the update as well as the original.) That book was also a favorite in our house when my kids were growing up. I think we wore out two or three copies.

Taylor was known for his evangelistic and missionary passion. During his years at Moody Press, he started Evangelical Literature Overseas, a ministry to provide Christian books for third-world countries. Taylor encouraged George Verwer during the later's student years, and Verwer later would credit the founding of Operation Mobilisation to Taylor's influence.

Ken Taylor also founded Short Terms Abroad, an organization that introduced thousands of students to hands-on missions work.

Taylor began paraphrasing from the American Standard Version of Scripture (1901) during his daily commute by train from Wheaton to Moody Bible Institute. Thus The Living Bible was largely conceived and jotted down by hand on commuter trains.

Christian Publishers (including Moody Press) were wary of a paraphrase edition of Scripture, so Taylor founded Tyndale House Publishers to publish the work himself. Portions of the New Testament were first released as Living Letters in 1962. The remarkable success of that venture enabled Taylor to quit Moody Press and complete the paraphrase, which was first published as The Living Bible in 1971 (with a padded green cover that almost everyone who was a Christian in that era will remember). The Living Bible ultimately sold more than 40 million copies in North America alone.

Here's a link to CT's 1992 review of Taylor's autobiography.


Pedophile Priest Payouts Pass $1 Billion

The the Roman Catholic Diocese of Covington, Ky last week created a $120 million fund to compensate victims of priestly sex abuse. With that settlement, payouts to sex victims of Roman Catholic priests over the past three years alone passed the billion-dollar mark.

No other religious institution ever has spent so much money to indemnify such widespread debauchery perpetrated by so many of its own officials. Yet this is the one major church in Christendom that has explicitly declared herself "irreformable."

Think about it.

Start with the pretense of papal infallibility; forbid everyone in the core hierarchy of the church to marry; embrace a notion of "spirituality" with the most superstitious form of sacramental externalism at its core; and demand that all your members blindly and reverently accept the authority of the church's earthly leaders no matter what—and what kind of result would you expect?

So why is it that so many Protestants have chosen this moment in history to seek ecumenical relationships with Rome?

Kyrie eleison.


BlogSpotting




09 June 2005

Marginal Observations about PDL®

One of the comment threads below turned into a longer-than-expected discussion about the merits and demerits of The Purpose-Driven® Life. So I decided to post some of my own thoughts about the book. The quickest, easiest way to do that is to share with you some thoughts I jotted down when I read the book.

This is not going to be a review; it's merely a record of my impressions while reading the book. Perhaps one of these days, if time permits, I'll do a proper review. But since the question people always ask is, "What did you think of The Purpose-Driven® Life?"—here (quite literally) is what I thought of it:

Notes in my copy of PDL


When I read, I use a transparent-green highlighter pen on the actual book pages, so that my marks don't show up or obscure the text if I later photocopy something. But I also keep a green FlairTM pen handy, which I use to write helpful reminders, key thoughts, and criticisms in the flyleaf. What you see above is the flyleaf— and the inside cover of my copy of The Second Best-Selling Book of All Time®.

Here's a more legible transcript:

  • This book is theologically naive, revealing little understanding of the law, divine grace, human depravity, redemption from sin, justification, sanctification (holiness), the nature of saving faith, or the lordship of Christ.
  • The Bible talks about how God fulfills His purpose through believers; it's not about Him helping us fulfill our purpose. (Romans 8:28, for example, describes Christians as those who are "called according to His purpose.")
  • In fact, Jesus called people to self-denial, not self-fulfillment. The notion of "self-fulfillment" caters to human pride and self-will, which Scripture says is sin.
  • But Rick Warren seems to think whatever you want to be is what God wants you to be ("God wants you to be yourself"—p. 103).
  • Scripture does not teach that God accepts people unconditionally in the sense Rick Warren seems to think.
  • True worship, service, sharing, and most of the other things described in The Purpose-Driven® Life are not possible at all apart from salvation. So why not give the gospel more clearly?
  • The true gospel is a message about redemption from sin, not "purpose in life." The most essential features of the gospel message are the cross of Christ and the truth of the resurrection. (Neither is given much emphasis—I don't recall that the resurrection is mentioned at all—in The Purpose-Driven® Life.) The cross is where sin was atoned for, and the resurrection is the proof Christ's atonement was accepted as payment in full for the sins of Christ's people. You haven't preached the gospel at all if you neglect those truths.
  • In short, this is basically feel-good stuff, carefully packaged to make a message that is appealing to unspiritual people. Other than that, the audience is ambiguous, and the gospel message is tamed, toned down, and obscured. The hard issues that were the most outstanding features of Jesus' message—sin, repentance, self-denial; not to mention the vital themes of righteousness, judgment, atonement, and the world to come—are all completely missing from Rick Warren's presentation.
  • The Purpose-Driven® Life epitomizes what is most wrong with the shallow, anti-theological, a-biblical message being proclaimed from most "evangelical" pulpits today.



08 June 2005

Speaking of fundamentalism. . .

For a couple of months, I've been carrying on a sporadic but lively conversation with some astute fundamentalists about their movement's past and future. Andrew Naselli has compiled the best of those dialogues, and they are posted at the Kara Ministries website. These discussions originally took place at SharperIron.org, my favorite blogforum. There you'll also find a transcript of my Shepherds' Conference Seminar titled "Dead Right: The Failure of Fundamentalism—which is what ignited this discussion in the first place.

"Dead Right" is included in Andrew Naselli's comprehensive document. Here is the link to that document, courtesy of Kara Ministries:

Dialogue on Fundamentalism and Separation: Phil Johnson and Dave Doran (choose PDF or Word doc). Posted on SharperIron.org; compiled by Andrew Naselli
updated 5/30/2005


07 June 2005

Spurgeon Archive Update

I haven't stopped updating The Spurgeon Archive; I've just had a tyrranical series of nonstop writing and editing deadlines since last November. I've now finished the largest of the projects, and I'm beginning the slow process of doing overdue maintenance on my websites. I posted a couple of fresh updates today. Look for more in the days to come.



The Purpose-Driven Blog

I just started reading this. I know nothing about Scott C. Mooney, so I won't necessarily vouch for everything he writes. The style of these journal entries is slightly wordy and meandering. But hey—that's how journals are, and Scott certainly has some helpful observations about the shortcomings of The Purpose-Driven Life.


06 June 2005

Turns Out I'm a Fundamentalist After All

Here's a quiz that purports to tell you whether you're a postmodernist or something else.

The most disconcerting thing about my score is how high I scored in the "postmodernist" category. I guess I'm not as pomophobic as we all thought.


You scored as Fundamentalist. Fundamentalism represents a movement in opposition to Modernism. About a quarter of the population in the U.S. is classified as Fundamentalist.
Fundamentalist
75%
Cultural Creative
63%
Postmodernist
38%
Romanticist
38%
Idealist
31%
Modernist
31%
Materialist
19%
Existentialist
19%
What is Your World View?


Links from PyroManiac do not include any implied endorsement.
Please surf with care.



Bob L. Ross on Blogging

Bob Ross has been a longtime friend and sometime critic of mine. He is the most devoted publisher of Spurgeon since Passmore & Alabaster. He's also a prolific writer of passionate commentary on just about everything, ranging from serious theological aberrations to little things that just get under his skin. He's a kind of fundamentalist Andy Rooney.

Well, Bob must have heard I started a blog. He broadcast an e-mail this morning that included this:
The blogging fad does appear to have something in common with the message board: it seems to bring all sorts out of the woodwork. Finding something of permanent value in blogdom is like discovering a jewel of gold in a swine's snout. You wonder how it got there.

Bob himself doesn't blog, but if you want to get his regular e-mail updates on what's wrong in the universe, you can sign up at his website.


Monday Menagerie I

I plan to devote some regular Monday space to esoteric things. Not necessarily every Monday, but as much as I can. Hopefully, these will supply learning experiences for us all.

I've been a classical music aficionado since high school. I'm not a musician myself (though I do know how to read music); I'm a listener. The only actually performing I do is whistling along. I know, I know; that's gauche and loutish. But I can't help myself.

Erik SatieAnyway, Darlene has developed a taste for some classical music by listening over my shoulder. She seems especially drawn to early 20th-century French composers, and I like her taste. (I'd rather hear Ravel's Le Tombeau de Couperin than anything written since then.) One of Darlene's favorite composers is Erik Satie, whose most familiar composition you will probably recognize. It is the first of his Gymnopédies, three proto-minimalistic piano compositions that are hauntingly beautiful. Try this: Gymnopédie no 1.

Update: Here is a much better recording, with oboe, by Bonnie Isabel.

Satie called some of his work "furniture music"—music not to be listened to, but to be played as background. That's what most music has become these days, but it was a radical idea in Satie's day.

Now, don't tell Darlene this, but Satie was a supremely aberrant individual. Yes, he was even more outlandish than me. Way more. Look up the French word for "eccentric." Instead of a definition, they've just put Satie's picture in.

Satie was born in the French harbor town of Honfleur in 1866 and died in Paris in 1925 (just nine days before my dad was born). So we're coming up on the 80th anniversary of his death.

How weird was he? You get a little glimpse from the titles he gave to some of his own compositions: "Chilled Pieces," "Vexations," "Drivelling Preludes (for a Dog)," "Dried up Embryos." Satie was Frank Zappa at least 75 years before anyone ever heard of Frank Zappa.

He wrote humorous notations, drawings, and puns in the margins of many of his compositions, intended as private jokes between him and the performer. When he learned of instances where the jokes had been shared with the audience, he wrote, "To whom it may concern: I forbid anyone to read the text aloud during the performance. Ignorance of my instructions will bring my righteous indignation against the audacious culprit. No exceptions will be allowed."

Satie lived alone in a room in Arcueil, France for 27 years. No one but he ever entered that room. At his death, friends discovered an unbelievable hoard of personal memorabilia, including a large collection of umbrellas, drawings he had made, letters he had collected, and dozens of previously unpublished works. The manuscripts of his compositions were all stuffed in odd places—such as the pockets of his trademark grey velvet suits and behind the piano (which, as it turned out, was covered with junk and cobwebs, revealing that he never used it in composing).

My favorite Satie item is his description of a typical day:


A Day in the Life of a Musician

An artist must regulate his life. Here is an exact timetable of my daily acts:

  • Get up: 7:18 AM
  • Be inspired: 10:23 to 11:47 AM.
  • I take lunch at 12:11 PM and leave the table at 12.14 PM.
  • A healthy horse-ride, around my domain: 1:19 to 2:53 PM.
  • Another bout of inspiration: 3:12 to 4:07 PM.
  • Various pastimes (fencing, reflection, immobility, visits, contemplation, calisthenics, swimming, etc.): 4:21 to 6:47 PM.
  • Dinner is served at 7:16 PM and finished by 7:20 PM.
  • Next are symphonic readings, out loud: 8:09 to 9:59 PM.
  • I go to bed regularly at 10:37 PM.
  • Once a week (on Tuesdays) I awake with a start at 3:14 AM.

I eat only food that is white: eggs, sugar, shredded bones; fat from dead animals; veal, salt, coconuts, chicken cooked in white water; mouldy fruit, rice, turnips; camphorated sausage, pasta, cheese (white varieties), cotton salad, and certain kinds of fish (minus their skins). I boil my wine and drink it cold mixed with juice from the fuchsia. I have a good appetite but never talk while eating for fear of strangling myself.

I breathe carefully (a little at a time). I dance very rarely. When I walk, I hold my ribs and look behind me steadily.

My expression is serious. If I laugh it is not deliberately; I always politely apologize for it.

My sleep is deep, but I close only one of my eyes. My bed is round with a hole cut for my head to go through.

Once every hour a servant takes my temperature and gives me another.

I have subscribed to a fashion magazine for a long time. I wear a white hat, white stockings, and a white waistcoat. My doctor tells me to smoke. His advice, in part, says: "Smoke away, dear fellow. If you don't, someone else will."


Some excerpts from Satie's humorous prose are posted on line: Memoirs of an Amnesiac.

Erik Satie was a living example of the fact that even though sin has badly marred the image of God in man, the image is still there. We can see it clearly in the way fallen creatures, no matter how outré, are still capable of amazing creativity. I think our love for the beauty, humor, and artistry of creaturely creativity is also an expression of the imago Dei.


04 June 2005

We Win a Warnie

Dr. Adrian Warnock has the largest and most-read Christian blog in the UK. I first met him in cyberspace in April 1996, when The Spurgeon Archive was less than a year old. He helped index all of my sermons for the World Wide Study Bible project. I haven't kept up very well with him or the World Wide Bible, but I have read his blog from time to time over the past year or so, so I knew he was still active in cyberspace and ran an important blog.

He surprised me by awarding PyroManiac with the coveted "Warnie" award within days after we launched. Needless to say, I was greatly humbled and (as they say in the UK) gobsmacked.

I looked up from the screen, tears of sheer joy in my eyes, and told my wife, "Honey, I've won a Warnie for my blog!"

"I knew you were totally going to embarrass yourself with that thing." she said. "I just can't believe you managed to do it the first week!"

Turns out she was thinking of The Wittenburg Door's infamous "Green Weenie" award for the evangelical "Loser of the Month." I tried to explain that a "Weenie" and a "Warnie" are totally different kinds of awards. But so far, she's not buying it. She knows me too well.


03 June 2005

Nixon's the One

Johnson's the Other One

Apropos of everything we have talked about so far, my longtime friend and former co-worker Joost Nixon has good advice for me:
Blogging is governed by the same biblical principles that govern our speech. This seems obvious, but to read the blogs of many young turks, they either don't get it, or they refuse to bridle their tongues. Blogs can be used for great good, but like any speech, it must be bridled in order to bring grace to those who hear.

Godly blogging begins with the right metaphor. Many young bloggers write as though they are scribbling ugly secrets into their private diaries. Because their blog-thoughts are just them "thinking out loud," they think their grumbling lawful—as if our thought-lives aren't under the Lord's dominion1. The fact that the "diary" metaphor is faulty only multiplies the destruction of sinful speech. Blogging is a form of diarizing, but one written expressly for others to read—or else why the public forum? But blogging is like reading one's diary over NPR. Bloggers should reflect on whether they really want such a public forum. My brethren, let not many of you become teachers, knowing that we shall receive a stricter judgment (Jas. 3:1).

If you have a blog, don't take yourself too seriously. Few people—even those "struggling with low self-esteem"—really think more lowly of themselves than they ought to think. The opposite sin, however, is pandemic (Rom. 12:3).

The rest of his article, "Blogitelling" (from a recent issue of Credenda Agenda), is equally compelling. Well worth a careful read.

Joost's website, St. Anne's Public House is one of the more upscale virtual establishments.


BlogSpotting




02 June 2005

On Neighborly Love (Even Toward Our Enemies)

Here's an excerpt from an article I wrote for the July issue of Tabletalk, now in your mailbox. If you want the whole article, get the magazine from Ligonier Ministries. The theme of the July issue is "The Image of God."



"Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself" (Matthew 22:37-39).

The Second Great Commandment is really just a practical extension of the First. Loving one's neighbor is simply the natural and necessary extension of true, wholehearted love for God, because your neighbor is made in the image of God.

God's image in every person is the moral and ethical foundation for every commandment that governs how we ought to treat our fellow humans. Scripture repeatedly makes this clear. Why is murder deemed such an especially heinous sin? Because killing a fellow human being is the ultimate desecration of God's image (Genesis 9:6).

In the New Testament, James points to the image of God in men and women as an argument for allowing even our speech to be seasoned with grace and kindness. It is utterly irrational, he says, to bless God while cursing people who are made in God's own likeness (James 3:9-12).

That same principle is an effective argument against every kind of disrespect or unkindness one person might show to another.

The prevailing rabbinical tradition in Jesus' day claimed that "enemies" are not really "neighbors." In effect, that nullified the Second Great Commandment. It was like saying you don't really have to love anyone whom you hate. All kinds of disrespect and unkindness became impervious to the law's correction.

Jesus confronted the error head on:
Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy. But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you; That ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust (Matthew 5:43-45).

Your enemy is made in God's image and therefore deserving of your respect and kindness. More important, Jesus said, if you want to be more like God—if you want the image of God to shine more visibly in your life and behavior—here's the way to do it: love even your enemies.

Remember, "God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him" (1 John 4:16). Such love—expressed even toward our enemies—is the mark of the true Christian, because it is the most vivid expression of God's image in His own people. "As he is, so are we in this world" (v. 17).


A quote that says it all

One of the things I do for a living is edit books. In my first job out of college, I was as an editor for Moody Press (while simultaneously holding down a position as night watchman in a mortuary). I have always maintained close ties with the world of Christian publishing (while trying to keep my distance from mortuaries). For the past 22 years, one of my joys in life has been to assist my pastor, John MacArthur, in preparing his major book manuscripts.

For the past two months, I've been pretty much closeted away editing the manuscript for John's next major book (due from Thomas Nelson this fall), titled Twelve Extraordinary Women. It's not exactly a "sequel" to Twelve Ordinary Men, MacArthur's bestselling study of the Twelve Apostles. But it is very much in the same vein—character studies of the lives of twelve of the key women in Scripture.

The project itself has been grueling, but the material has made it highly rewarding. One of my favorite chapters deals with Martha and Mary of Bethany. In one of the more poignant lines in the book, MacArthur says this:
Human instinct seems to tell us that what we do is more important than what we believe. But that is a false instinct, the product of our fallen self-righteousness. It is a totally wrong way of thinking—sinfully wrong. We must never think more highly of our works for Christ than we do of His works on our behalf.

That pretty much sums up the whole gist of my concerns about the drift of modern evangelicalism—including evangelicals' obsession with political remedies for moral maladies, the rise of sacramentalist doctrines, the various attacks on the doctrines of imputation and the active obedience of Christ, and the general tendencies of "purpose-driven" and "seeker-sensitive" philosophies (where methodology is stressed and the content of the gospel message is neglected).

All those trends are deviations from the principle Paul spells out so clearly in 1 Cornthians 2:2: "I determined not to know anything among you except Jesus Christ and Him crucified."


01 June 2005

Quick-and-Dirty Calvinism

Bashing Calvinism is the latest fad in blogdom. My turn.

Three years ago Rob Schläpfer had the best Reformed website and book business bar none. It was the place to go if you were looking for material responding to Dave Hunt. Schläpfer's online magazine, Antithesis, was the best-looking and most consistently interesting website I knew—and it was thoroughly Calvinistic.

Michael Spencer, aka the Internet Monk, runs one of the most successful group blogs around. It's a lively theological discussion cast as a virtual tavern. The iMonk gained fame earlier this year by "outing" Joel Osteen's frivolous non-gospel. One of the iMonk's famous early blog entries was titled "Why Calvinism Is Cool." Judging from the network of links, the iMonk's group blog, The Boar's Head Tavern (BHT), has attracted a lot of Calvinist readers.

But last year with little warning, Schläpfer renounced all things Reformed and started giving rave reviews to almost every postmodern oddity and "emergent church" manual that the evangelical publishing houses could crank out. With a bit of fanfare, Schläpfer's mail-order company dropped some of the best Reformed books from their line. Meanwhile, Schläpfer was posting some fiery blasts both publicly and privately against Calvinists and Calvinism. (Some of them—including one sent to me personally—were pretty much in the spirit of Mark 14:71.)

Recently, the iMonk followed suit with a controversial essay, "I'm Not Like You . . . (Calvinists especially)." He closed it with a paragraph that began, "I am not like you. Every day I wander further from the safety of Calvinism into the wideness of God's mercy." Although the text is still in the process of deconstruction at the BHT, it seems like the iMonk and his drinking buddies have decided postmodernism is a lot cooler than Calvinism.

Schläpfer and the iMonk are by no means alone. More serious Calvinist leaders, including John Armstrong and Andrew Sandlin are saying similar things, albeit usually with just a smidge more subtlety.

Jumping off the Calvinist bandwagon and lobbing rotten eggs at the attitudes and culture of "Reformed" folk is clearly le dernier cri in the blogosphere and beyond.

Before we vivisect these gentlemen and their views (something I may eventually want to devote some bloggage to), I think it would be helpful to ponder why Calvinism, which seemed to be the flavor of the month not so long ago, has suddenly become so odious to so many of its one-time friends.

I have to say with all candor that I can somewhat understand the feelings expressed by some of Calvinism's recent critics. Sniff around some of the Calvinist forums on the Internet and it won't be long before you begin to think something is rotten in Geneva.

But I hasten to add that I don't think the problem really lies in Geneva, or in historic Calvinism, or in any of the classic Reformed creeds. I especially don't think the stench arises from any problem with Calvinism per se. In my judgment, the problem is a fairly recent down n' dirty version of callow Calvinism that has flourished chiefly on the Internet and has been made possible only by the new media.

Internet Calvinism and historic Calvinism sometimes have little in common. Consider:

  1. Fanaticism. The strains of hyper-Calvinism that are flourishing today are more harsh and more hyper than any of the historic hyper-Calvinists ever thought about being.

    If you doubt this, check Marc Carpenter's infamous website and read his ridiculous "Heterodoxy Hall of Shame." Carpenter is so hyper-Calvinistic that he has even labeled Calvin a hell-bound heretic for not being Calvinistic enough! He damns Spurgeon, Iain Murray, and even Gordon Clark (whom no one during his lifetime ever accused of not being Calvinistic enough).

    There are some well-trafficked discussion forums out there that look like they're having a contest to see who can be most extreme in their condemnations of Arminianism or most overblown in their affirmation of über-high Calvinism.

    There is a radical extremism among hypers on the Internet that is utterly unheard of even in the darkest corners of hyper-Calvinist history. At least the early hypers like Huntington and Gill had some profitable things to say when they exegeted Scripture.

  2. Non-evangelism. Among more mainstream Calvinists, there are certainly some outstanding men who are earnestly evangelistic (Piper, MacArthur, and even Sproul). But it would be stretching things more than a little bit to insist that modern Calvinism as a movement is known by its passion for evangelism. Where are the Calvinist evangelists? I can think of only one outstanding example: John Blanchard. (There are surely more, but at the moment I can't think of any other famous Calvinists now living who have devoted their ministries primarily to evangelism).

    Of course, I fully realize that the Arminian caricature of historic Calvinism as anti-evangelistic is a total lie. But one could hardly argue that evangelism is a key feature of modern Calvinism. Neither the writings we produce nor the conferences we hold focus much on evangelism.

  3. Polemicism. Today's rank-and-file Calvinists are more in the mold of Pink, Boettner, and J.I. Packer than they are like Spurgeon or Whitefield. In other words, modern Calvinism is producing mostly students and polemicists, not evangelists and preachers. That's because Internet Calvinism is simply too academic and theoretical and not concerned enough with doing, as opposed to hearing, the Word (James 1:22). To a large degree, I think that's what the medium itself encourages.

  4. Anti-intellectualism. This may sound like a contradiction of my previous point, but both tendencies contribute to the superficiality of Internet Calvinism. Want a sample? I recently received an e-mail inquiry that is all too typical of what I have observed for years among Internet Calvinists. Someone whom I do not know and whose name I will not divulge wrote me to ask:
    Can you explain in one paragraph or less how to make sense of the distinction you make between the "decretive" and "preceptive" aspects of God's will? Please don't give me a reading list of books and articles. One paragraph. One sentence if you can do it. Because the whole idea seems loony to me. So far, no one has been able to describe it in a way that makes any sense. I don't have time to read 10 volumes of dead guys' reflections in Puritan prose. And don't refer me to Piper's article on the subject. It's too long and convoluted. I just want a short answer.

    Right. The quick and dirty approach to untangling the mysteries of the universe. And every forum on the Internet, it seems, has at least one or two freshly-enlightened, beardless Calvinists who are convinced that their understanding of everything suddenly became perfect when they embraced the sovereignty of God. Some of them imagine that whatever difficulties they still can't explain can be easily solved by simply moving to a more extreme position.

The upsurge of Calvinism on the Internet in the 1990s seems to have spawned a large and unprecedented movement of jejune Calvinists who wear arrogance as if it were the team uniform. That kind of hotshot, shoot-from-the-hip Calvinism is ugly. I don't blame anyone for being appalled by it. I'm worried about those who think it's a good thing.

Obviously those criticisms are mostly generalizations, and they don't necessarily apply to every Calvinist on the Internet. But (and here's the hard part) I'm willing to admit that there have been times when every one of those criticisms could be legitimately applied to something I wrote or posted to a public forum somewhere. I'll especially confess to my shame that I'm too much of a polemicist and not enough of an evangelist.

Historic Calvinism is not supposed to be that way. Yes, Calvinism is virile; it's relentless when it comes to truth; and it's not always easy to swallow. But it is full of truths that should humble us and fill us with compassion rather than swagger and conceit. The best Calvinism has always been fervently evangelistic, large-hearted, benevolent, merciful, and forgiving. After all, that's what the doctrines of grace are supposed to be all about.

Until we get back there, some of the lumps the Reformed movement is currently taking are well-deserved.

And meanwhile, my advice to young Calvinists is to learn your theology from the historic mainstream Calvinist authors, not from blogs and discussion forums on the Internet. Some of the forums may be helpful in pointing you to more important resources. But if you think of them as a surrogate for seminary, you're probably going to become an ugly Calvinist—and if you get hit in the face with a rotten egg, you probably deserve it.