How ingenious do we need
to be to understand Scripture? How complicated has God made it for us to
get the truth from the Bible? Has God played a trick on us and hidden
His truth somewhere inside our Bibles, saving us only if we can find it?
Is God engaged in some kind of cosmic board game in which we are the
pawns?
There seems to be an
insatiable desire on the part of some brethren to tolerate every shade
and grade of doctrine, and the people who promote them (except those who
are perceived as more restrictive than they, of course).
Vance Havner used to say,
“They would turn God’s sheepfold into a zoo.” Instead of the church
going into the world, to teach it, they would bring the world into the
church. In order to accomplish this, however, it is necessary to
minimize the force of some teachings, because they clearly form a line
of distinction. An obvious example is homosexuality. In order to open
our doors to practicing homosexuals, we must reinterpret, minimize or
eliminate the passages that condemn such activity. On the other hand, if
we observe these passages as they are written, we have no choice but to
conclude that such people are excluded from the commonwealth of God’s
people and conduct ourselves accordingly (abhorring the sin, while
pointing the sinner to Christ at every opportunity).
Reductionism ad nauseam
A manifestation of this
attitude has been practiced in the mainline denominations for years. F.
LaGard Smith mentions it in his scathing rebuke of some brethren in a
speech given at the Pepperdine Lectures in April of this year. He refers
to a Lutheran scholar’s analysis of why Lutheranism has failed to
advance as rapidly in recent years. The scholar calls the problem as
“reductionism,” meaning that the doctrine of a Lutheran is not couched
in affirmations, but in a series of repudiations, or reductions. The
purest form of this reductionism would be a “grace-only” doctrine in
which God is viewed as completely responsible for salvation — man would
have no part in it whatsoever. You’d be surprised how many denominations
teach something very close to that idea.
Reductionism is common in
most mainline churches today. I was speaking to a fellow the other day
who is active in a group called “Promise-Keepers.” This is a men’s
organization that is devoted to focusing on what members of various
denominations have in common, instead of the differences. At a
convention at Anaheim Stadium, the keynote speaker asked the crowd of
5,000 to yell out the name of the church they belong to. Of course, it
sounded like the Tower of Babel, post-tongue confusion. But then the
speaker asked them to yell out the name of the Savior. “Christ” was the
predictable reply. Point… “don’t you see, we are all saved by Christ, so
what difference does it make what church we belong to?”
The doctrine of many
denominations is best defined by what they don’t believe: they don’t
believe homosexuality is wrong, they don’t believe a woman’s public role
in the church should be restricted, they don’t believe anything that
could be viewed as “restricting fellowship.” Theologically, the goal is
to refrain from placing any human (as they see it) restriction on God’s
exercise of His grace. The result is that they have flung their doors
wide open, accepting anyone who will accept them. They ignore references
to Christ as Lord (He’s just our Savior, not our Master) and have
reduced ethical concerns primarily to social issues (”you should feed
the poor” is relevant, “you should avoid fornication” is not).
Boy, you say, these
denominations’ buildings must be overflowing, huh? Actually, mainline
denominations have lost an unprecedented number of members in the last
20 years (something like a 25% drop). Maybe people really do expect
religion to stand for something. Novel idea.
“We have met the enemy.
. .”
My concern is not with
the denominations, though. I’m seeing this “reductionism” attitude
practiced by some of my brethren. In other words, some are saying that
we are applying God’s word too restrictively and are not leaving room
for God’s grace to work. This is done by reducing the basis of
fellowship to a few well-accepted, rarely controverted, abstract truths
that we glean from Scripture.
There’s an obvious
problem with this approach. The Bible makes no clear distinction in the
quality of “truths” to be believed. There is reference to “weightier
matters,” justice and mercy and faithfulness, in Matthew 23:23,
but that hardly settles the question because commitment to Christ isn’t
mentioned explicitly in that passage. Not only that, but Jesus said they
were “weightier matters of the law” and was speaking to Jews at the
time. Furthermore, in the same passage, Jesus told them to do those
“weightier matters” without leaving the “little things” undone. I don’t
know anyone who has proposed that we put all of our religious eggs in
the Matthew 23:23 basket. But it illustrates the problem. We’re
faced with the fact that the Bible makes no clear distinction between
truths we must keep and truths we must ignore.
So, those who like the
reductionism idea because it reduces the judgments we must make about
who we can be in fellowship with (cf. I Corinthians 5:9-13), are
faced with coming up with a crystallization of a few crucial truths that
everyone must agree on. And, of course, even among the reductionists,
there is disagreement on this point. Most are reluctant to embrace the
Promise Keeper approach (which they don’t even practice) that it is just
a belief in Christ as Savior that matters. Some think Ephesians 4:4-6
is the place to go, but are tripped up by “one faith”— what does that
include? (some brethren are also tripped up by “one baptism”).
I’m not suggesting that
there isn’t a sense in which some of God’s words tend to shape us into
the kind of people He wants and therefore take a more central position
in our lives, in the long term, than the words that fill a merely
restrictive role. The word “love” is an obvious example. If we love
(God, wife, child, brethren) we “fulfill the law” (Matthew 22:37-40;
Romans 13:8-10; cf. I Timothy 1:5-11). But to reduce all of God’s
words to the word “love” goes beyond what God has done Himself. Why not
understand that the rest of God’s word helps us define what “love” means
and therefore is just as valuable?
The problem is
presumption
To conclude that God’s
other words are not important is presumption placed in bold relief.
“Presumption,” as I’m using the term, means assuming something without
God’s word on the matter. Nadab and Abihu used a strange fire, which the
Lord had not commanded (Leviticus 10:1-3.). If that is not a
lesson about presumption, I don’t what is.
The presumption of some
brethren is displayed in the some of the answers being offered to
resolve the dilemma noted above about which of God’s words should form
the “core gospel.” Here are some samples: (1) “Only commands are
important, not examples or inferences.” Presumption: How do you know
that? If you know that a divinely-inspired apostle did a thing a certain
way (for example, gave specific instructions for qualifications for
elders or took the Lord’s Supper on a certain day every week), who are
you, when faced with the identical situation, to question the apostle’s
judgment in the matter? Upon what basis can we assume that Christ will
accept a different kind of service, when one of His appointed men has
spoken on the matter, whether I learn that through command, example or a
necessary conclusion that I draw from reading about the act? At a more
personal level, what examples or necessary inferences are these brethren
wanting to ignore, and why?
(2) “Only the gospels
(Matthew, Mark, Luke and John) are essential for Christians to heed; the
letters are, at most, ‘good advice.’” Who told you that? What passage in
any part of Scripture — whether determined by command, example or
necessary inference — would lead you to such a conclusion? Yes, on a
couple of occasions, Paul said something like “I say this, not the Lord”
(e.g., I Corinthians 7:12; cf. 7:6; II Corinthians 11:17). From
that statement, would you conclude that everything Paul says is just his
own opinion? Logically, that’s absurd. Even if we grant that Paul, in I
Corinthians 7:12, etc., is saying something like “this is my opinion,
not the Lord’s, and therefore you can take it or leave it” (hardly the
most obvious interpretation to begin with), logically that disclaimer
would apply only to the statement that follows, and Paul would then be
asserting that everything else he says is from the Lord (cf. 7:10).
But a more fundamental
question is whether the letters constitute Scripture or not? If they are
not, then they are not even “good advice,” because the men writing them
claim to be writing God’s words (see Ephesians 3:1ff.). If they
are not, it’s a cruel ruse. If they are Scripture, then doesn’t II
Timothy 3:16-17 apply and mean that we are to use them for doctrine,
reproof, correction, and discipline? “But Paul was referring only to the
Old Testament in that passage.” Oh? So what is the basis for accepting
the gospels but not the letters? They were written by some of the same
men, and some of the gospels were written later than some of the
letters. John wrote a gospel and three letters and a prophecy —was he
only inspired while writing his gospel and the rest is “good advice”?
How do we separate the “gospel-Scripture” from “letter-Scripture”? And
what would you say to Peter who called Paul’s epistles “Scripture”
(II Peter 3:16)? Upon what logical, scriptural — or any other —
basis would you arrive at such a conclusion? And why? What is in the
letters that bothers these brethren? Don’t you see? The reductionists
know all too well what the letters say and require, and they don’t like
it. They are too restrictive and they don’t want to be restricted.
Can we expect some of
these brethren to soon embrace the Jesus Seminar mentality in which only
certain words of Jesus in the gospels are accepted as valid? The Jesus
Seminar consists of a group of scholars who meet in order to attempt to
determine which of the words written down in our gospels are truly the
words of Jesus and which have been put there by the early church. I
won’t even get into the means they employ to do this; suffice to say
that it is wholly subjective, as you might have guessed. My point is,
that here is “reductionism” in extremis. What is preventing those who
accept any of it to go all the way with it? Why not?
It seems clear enough
that this whole effort to reduce the basis of our faith to the lowest
common denominator is an effort to assert the Self into defining the
parameters of faith, instead of trusting God to do it. Instead of
surrendering ourselves completely to the will of the Lord, we set out to
choose what part of the will we will comply with. Ironically, though
some would stress the words of Jesus over the words of the apostles,
their attitude is condemned by the Lord Himself: “If anyone wishes to
come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow
Me.”
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