2 John

Umberto Eco’s Turning Back the Clock: Hot Wars and Media Populism is a fascinating and eclectic group of essays by Italy’s most famous modern literary export. Eco is probably most well known in America for his novels, but you really should do yourself the service of reading his essays and articles, of which there are many collections available. This most recent collection (taken largely from Italian newspapers from 2000-2005) does not disappoint…at least not completely.

He entitled the book Turning Back the Clock because he sincerely believes that society is caught in a kind of devolution or regression. The evidence that Eco lays out more than justifies this idea.

Do I detect a growing and increasing tone of grandfatherly common sense in Eco? I think so, and we are, on the whole, better for his wisdom. He is quite concerned about the dumbing effects of the mass media and about the education of young people, as well he should be. I was also encouraged to see Eco’s frustration with the coarsening of society. It is interesting to see the anecdotal examples that frustrate him: reality television, a young woman dancing in front of the Pope with her navel showing, the carnivalization of society, etc.

There are flashes of sheer brilliance here. His essays on “carnivalization” and the loss of privacy are both simply fantastic. In the former he makes a compelling case that every sphere of society has now been turned into a carnival, a move that can only result in a mad dash for even more carnival. In the latter he gives one of the most telling and convicting analyses of reality TV and talk shows that I’ve ever heard in my life.

Religiously, this book is encouraging, but insufficient. Eco is not a believer, but he does seem to have a great respect for the Church and for sincere believers the world over. In his essay discussing the possibility of a transcendent Enlightenment ethic he points to Jesus and “the Golden Rule” as the most exemplary picture of what that ethic should look like. He curiously notes that Jesus was a great Enlightenment thinker in articulating such truths, whereas he should have more accurately noted that he, Eco, was being a Christian in quoting these truths!

I found his review of Mel Gibson’s “The Passion of the Christ” to be very interesting. He passes on the humorous footnote that he received an irate letter from one reader after the review originally appeared telling Eco that he would never forgive him for “giving away the ending” of the movie before he was able to see it!

Eco is very concerned about “fundamentalisms”, be they Islamic or Christian. This is a drum he beats again and again, and not without reason. I, too, am concerned about fundamentalisms, though I cannot help but feel that Eco would lump all American evangelicals into that camp, a serious and unfortunate mistake.

My only complaint is that Eco seems to spend the majority of his time with northeastern, liberal, academic, pinheads when he comes to America. How else to explain his unbelievably offensive characterization of the American Bible-belt as the most ignorant, backward part of the USA, and one that is “cut off from the rest of the world”?

Please! Can you find that down here? Sure. Is that a fair assesment in general? No way. I might be inclined, on the contrary, to suggest that the type of blue state, wine-sipping, cheese-nibbling, leftist effete’s that populate the ivy schools that Eco probably is condemned to frequent on his trips here seem fairly “cut off from the world” to those of us who appreciate iced tea and grits, but that would be a rude thing to do.

I was immediately reminded, when I began reading this book, of Evelyn Waugh’s own experiment with the idea that society was moving backwards. In his short story, “Out of Depth,” Rip has a dream of visiting London in the year 2500. Society appears to have devolved into a state of primitivism and paganism. It’s like some dark apocalyptic nightmare in which Rip realizes that all that he once knew is now gone. In a sense, though the clock has moved forward, it has also moved backwards.

At the end of the story, however, Waugh writes this:

“And then later – how much later he could not tell – something that was new and yet ageless. The word “Mission” painted on a board; a black man dressed as a Dominican friar…and a growing clearness Rip knew that out of strangeness, there had come into being something familiar; a shape in chaos. Something was being done. Something was being done that Rip knew; something that twenty-five centuries had not altered; of his own childhood which survived the age of the world. In a log-built church at the coast town he was squatting among a native congregation; some of them in cast-off uniforms; the women had shapeless, convent-sewn frocks; all round him dishevelled white men were staring ahead with vague, uncomprehending eyes, to the end of the room where two candles burned. The priest turned towards them his bland, black face.

“Ite, missa est.”

So perhaps the clock is moving backwards into a new dark age. For Eco, there is a sense of frustration mingled with a restless optimism. He is obviously wanting to hold onto hope, and yet his transcendent Enlightenment ethic seems insufficient. (Eco’s essay on death is witty and tragic. There is no hope of life beyond, only a sense that we should do the best we can here.)

For Waugh, however, the clock may very well be moving backwards, but the Gospel remains. When the last vestiges of our “enlightened” society have been swept away, the Gospel still remains.

Revelation

Posted on January 1, 2008 by Wyman

1998-2002

Revelation 3:14-22 (Preached on an unknown date [1998-2002] at Stonecrest Baptist Church in Woodstock, GA)

2009

Revelation 2:1-7 (Preached on September 20, 2009, at First Baptist Church, Dawson, GA)

Revelation 3:14-22 (Preached on October 11, 2009, at First Baptist Church, Dawson, GA)

2010

Revelation 21:1-8 (Preached on December 26, 2010, at First Baptist Church, Dawson, GA)

2017

Revelation 12 (Preached on December 17, 2017, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR)

2020

Revelation 1 (Preached on February 21, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 2:1-7 (Preached on February 28, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 2:8-11 (Preached on March 7, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 2:12-17 (Preached on March 14, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 2:18-29 (Preached on March 21, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 3:1-6 (Preached on April 11, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 3:7-13 (Preached on April 18, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 3:14-22 (Preached on April 25, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 4 (Preached on May 2, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 5:1-7 (Preached on May 16, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 5:2,8-14 (Preached on May 23, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 6:1-8 (Preached on July 4, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 6:9-17 (Preached on July 11, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 7:1-8 (Preached on July 18, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 7:9-17 (Preached on July 25, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 8:1-5 (Preached on August 1, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 8:6-13 (Preached on August 8, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 9 (Preached on August 15, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 10 (Preached on August 22, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 11:1-14 (Preached on September 5, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 11:15-19 (Preached on September 19, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 12 (Preached on September 26, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 13 (Preached on October 3, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 14:1-13 (Preached on October 10, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 14:14-20 (Preached on October 17, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 15-16 (Preached on October 24, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 17 (Preached on October 31, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 18 (Preached on November 7, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 19:1-10 (Preached on November 14, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 19:11-21 (Preached on November 21, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 20:1-10 (Preached on November 28, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 20:11-15 (Preached on December 5, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 21 (Preached on December 12, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Revelation 22 (Preached on December 19, 2021, at Central Baptist Church, North Little Rock, AR) [manuscript]

Robert Sheffield’s (compiler) Deacons as Leaders

Posted on December 25, 2007 by Wyman

Deacons as Leaders is a small collection of essays complied by Robert Sheffield.The essays are simple, practical, and, in the main, helpful. This book would be ideal to use in deacon training. My only real complaint is that Robert Sheffield’s essay was full of formatting gaffs like oversized footnote numbers and the use of the time “pastured” instead of “pastored” (twice). I didn’t see these kinds of mistakes in any other essay, and I can only imagine that the LifeWay editors received his essay too late to give it a really careful reading.

Charles Deweese’s essay was very helpful, as was Jerry Songer’s essay, “Deacons Leading With Pastor and Staff.” All of the essays in this book rejected the corporate idea of the deacons being a “board.” They all seemed to agree that ministering to people was the heart and soul of the deacon ministry, even as some of them allowed for certain administrative tasks as well.

It seems to me that this is one of the vexing issues facing pastors and deacons today: how best to balance the service/ministry aspects of the deacon body with the administrative aspects that many Baptist congregations expect as well? It is encouraging to note that that the modern mood among churches in the Southern Baptist Convention at least recognizes that there is something deficient about deacon bodies that do not stress ministry, even if greater steps towards actual ministry are lacking in too many quarters.

One senses that the concept of “deacon” in Southern Baptist life is in a state of flux. As such, certain important conversations need to be taking place. To this end, a little book like this could be very helpful.

Ben Witherington’s Making a Meal of It: Rethinking the Theology of the Lord’s Supper

Posted on December 21, 2007 by Wyman

After reading Ben Witherington’s Making a Meal of It: Rethinking the Theology of the Lord’s Supper, I’m prepared to say that, in my opinion, Witherington is one of the most winsome, thought-provoking, and helpful New Testament scholars writing today. This book is the second in a trilogy of books he’s writing for Baylor University Press. I reviewed the first book on baptism here. The third will be on scripture. This book takes its place in the trilogy in a more than worthy manner.

Witherington reminds me a bit of N.T. Wright in terms of (a) his impressive output of published works, (b) his evangelical heart and scholar’s mind, and (c) his ability to speak to people where they are. He is an accessible and popular guide through the occasionally murky waters of New Testament scholarship but a formidable presence in the guild of New Testament scholars as well.

This book does a masterful job of laying down a biblical theology of the Lord’s Supper. Witherington makes a compelling case that the supper was intended to be a radical and gospel-fueled vehicle for the re-stratification of society. It encapsulates as a meal what the gospel is in reality: peace, joy, and a new social order in Christ.

Witherington is great at using historical backround to illuminate the text. He does this very effectively in his detailed descriptions of both the Jewish Passover meal and the components of the Greco-Roman meal. His description of the latter helped me understand something that has always been a bit muddled in my mind: the love feast or the wider meal that Paul and Jude speak about of which the Lord’s Supper was a part. Furthermore, Witherington’s helpful description of first-century worship in the home helped me understand a few aspects of the Supper as well.

His excursis on the idea that Lazarus (not John) was, in fact, “the beloved disciple” was, frankly, brilliant and compelling. I’m steeped enough in the popular notions concerning John being “the beloved disciple” to want to do some further thought on this, but Witherington’s arguments have placed a tremendous burden on my own assumptions here.

I believe I’m going to do what I actually seldom do: re-read a book immediately after finishing it. I have the sense that Witherington has hit on something here that is poignant and timely. The Lord’s Supper is, in my own Baptist tradition, woefully underappreciated. This book will serve as a very helpful guide in any efforts to see it restored to its rightful place.

Highly recommended!

Craig Gross and J.R. Mahon’s Starving Jesus

Posted on December 19, 2007 by Wyman

I probably read this book because last week a lady in my church said, “Do you have something against people who’ve written books in the last 200 years?” She was giving me some good-natured ribbing about my penchant for quoting church fathers and, in general, lots of folks who are over 200 years old. I told her that, no, I didn’t have anything against people who’ve written books in the last 200 years but given that people are dumber now than ever before, what’s a guy to do?

So she’s probably to blame for the fact that I picked up Craig Gross and J.R. Mahon’s Starving Jesus. (By the by, I do in fact read lots of books that are less than 200 years old!) Now, let me just say that I like these two dudes. They run the xxxchurch anti-porn site. They’re a little over-the-top for my tastes, but I mean that in the sense that I would have said the prophets were over-the-top had I been alive during their day.

Their basic thesis is that most evangelical believers are comfortable and inactive. Are they right? Yes. We’re also selfish, short-sighted, greedy, materialistic, biblically illiterate, and culturally indifferent. I say “we” because “I are one!” I’m proud of Gross and Mahon for saying “we” too. They’re not self-righteous, though, at times, their strident jeremiad smacks of it. Just when I was tempted to say, “Yeah, but who are you two punks and who made you so high and mighty,” they said it themselves. In fact, they are painfully and refreshingly candid about their own faults (see the story about taking in a family from New Orleans if you don’t believe me). I appreciated their confession and their honesty.

So, basically, these guys want us to get out of the pews and into the world. They decided to make this call a reality by (again, prophetically) going on a 40 day tour in an RV calling on Christians to get active. Oh, and they fasted those 40 days…and they chained themselves to a pew that they hauled all over America to make the point and stir up interest. They’ve ironically (ironic because of their constant lampooning of the Evangelical penchant for packaging and promoting itself) created a cool website with a documentary film showing their “40 days of nothing” (brilliant!) tour. Their tagline: “Do something. Give. Fast. Pray.”

You know, I got really frustrated with these guys and some of their language. For pete’s sake I hope that young guys finally realize that saying “sucks” and “crap” and things like that actually limits our effectiveness in the long run (they’d roll their eyes and call me a prudish fundamentalist for saying that, but it’s true). Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate the power of provocative speech. I was listening to some of the early John Michael Talbot tunes the other day and was struck by his condemnation of the “damned self-righteousness” of many Christians. Right on. But this potty-mouth stuff feels less like strategic provocation than it does juvenile bad manners. There is a difference. But, so help me, I still prefer this kind of raw transparency than the drivel that comes off of evangelical presses today. These two guys are in the trenches and are making a difference. I appreciate that and I’m challenged by it.

It was nice to hear somebody other than Richard Foster and Dallas Willard calling the church back to fasting. This was very, very convicting to me. And the the story of Ollie in Byron, GA, at the end of the book is worth the cost of the book.

I don’t know: this book is a bit of a random, angst-ridden, frustrating mess…just like life is. I loved this book and it has me thinking like few books I’ve recently read have. I’ve given it to our youth guy and demanded he read it or he’s fired.

God bless these two muckrakers. May their tribe increase…just with a little cleaner language. 🙂

The Formation of Christian Doctrine with Dr. Malcolm Yarnell

Posted on December 17, 2007 by Wyman

Wyman Richardson: Dr. Yarnell, I’d like to say from the start that your book, The Formation of Christian Doctrine, was refreshing insofar as it constitutes a unique and singular contribution to theological prolegomena from a free-church perspective. You note in the work the relative absence of prolegomena in our tradition (while acknowledging that some, like Millard Erickson, have made substantial contributions). Why is this? Is there something germane to the free-church tradition in particular that makes intentional and substantial attempts at theological prolegomena either undesirable or difficult?

Malcolm Yarnell: I am glad that you enjoyed this aspect of the book, for it is central to understanding the purpose of the monograph. First, let me be clear that there have been free churchmen who have written theological prolegomena, the discussion of theological method. What makes this book different from previous attempts is that it intentionally looks to the confessional practices of the free churches (more particularly, the believers’ churches) for their theological method. I do not think there is anything inherent within the free church tradition that makes such an attempt undesirable or difficult. Rather, the lack of previous attempts indicates the historical placement of the free churches amongst the state-churches.
Believers-only churches were not only disallowed prior to the widespread establishment of religious toleration in the West, they were often severely persecuted. It was difficult for free church theologians to live (one thinks here of martyred theologians such as Balthasar Hubmaier and Michael Sattler), much less have the leisure to reflect upon the difficult problem of theological method. Disclosing the free church theological method is not undesirable to the free churches; rather, historically, the free churches have had to plead for the very right to exist against the persecuting churches of the Roman and Protestant traditions.
Even after toleration of dissenting churches was allowed, our people were kept out of the universities. It was not until the last two centuries that free church theologians began to receive the theological training necessary for such an exercise. Unfortunately, after such training, those theologians in the free churches who were even minimally interested in theological method tended to think in the magisterial manner of the academy in which they were educated, rather than according to the manner of the free churches from which they were called. My hope is that the book will serve as a clarion call for free church theologians to cease forsaking their own churches in favor of an alien paradigm. I have little doubt that some will not like it, precisely because it calls into question their fundamental presuppositions. However, God has never given this particular preacher a comfortable ministry.

Wyman Richardson: You say on pages 115-116 that the original impetus for this book was the desire to see a free-church response to Cardinal Newman’s famous An Essay on the Development of Doctrine. As one who is intrigued by Newman’s approach, I found this fact fascinating. You do note that this book is merely a first step and not a complete response to Newman. I wonder if you feel that such a free-church response is essential today? Why is this important and do you intend to pursue a more exhaustive response to Newman?

Malcolm Yarnell: John Henry Cardinal Newman is probably the most underrated theologian in the modern era. Most systematic theologians, especially in the Protestant tradition, tend to look toward authors who intend at the most to critique the church rather than build it up, or at the least who construct a theology that the church cannot live. Newman intentionally set out to build up the church and his theology was one that his church could utilize, although in his lifetime this was not always evident. (It was not until after World War II that many Roman Catholics began to see that Newman’s theology was helpful for bringing the Roman Church into conversation with modern humanity.)
Unfortunately, the sheer genius of Newman proved not only beneficial to Roman Catholicism, something that Benedict XVI also recognizes, but it proved attractive to those Protestants seeking a firmer though ultimately elusive historical basis. The brilliant thesis of Martin Luther was in showing that a return to Scripture did not entail submission to Rome; the brilliant thesis of Cardinal Newman was in showing that a return to truth might occur through submission to Rome. (Newman liked liberalism as much as Southern Baptist conservatives do.) In my opinion, Newman’s greatest legacy may be the intellectual subversion of the Reformation, a subversion that occurred while he wrote An Essay on the Development of Doctrine. The crisis of Reformation theology, especially with the current wholesale trend towards ecumenical theology, is found in Newman and his doctrine of doctrinal development.
This is why I believe there must be a response to the English Cardinal. As the free churches have become more aware of the history of the churches in general, they have discovered that Christians in other churches and at other times are not necessarily as depraved as they had sometimes led themselves to believe. This deepening historical awareness, a positive movement, also brought a sense of ecclesiological insecurity, a negative byproduct compounded by a loss of preaching upon biblical ecclesiology. As a result, some free churches have suffered loss of members to the Anglican, Reformed, and Lutheran communions, or even more radically, to the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox churches. Unless the free churches regain their theological foundation, we will continue to see the loss of our distinctives. If this were merely a historical loss, I would not be so exercised. The problem is that it entails the loss of what I believe to be the proper foundation of theology.
Do I plan to address Newman’s ideas with regard to development more deeply in the future? It would be an honor if that were my task. However, Newman deserves a worthier opponent than this middle-aged obscure theologian. When Newman is definitively answered, it must come from a wisdom that I fear I do not yet possess, if ever. However, perhaps someone will see fit to use my preliminary attempt as a basis for addressing Newman. For the sake of the New Testament churches, I believe it must be accomplished.

Wyman Richardson: You rightly bemoan the gutting of the term “evangelical” and the reduction of this word to a kind of “mushy middle”, lowest-common-denominator position that lacks clarity and force. You also note how the term was originally bound up with ecclesiology but has now been divorced from any polity structure. In reaction, you use the term “evangelical” in its original sense and association with Magisterial Reformation polity and ecclesiology, thereby declaring your own apprehension with applying the term to Baptists. I was curious, however, about why you did not mention perhaps the most well-known definition of “evangelical,” the Bebbington Quadrilateral? Doesn’t Bebbington’s definition have more force and substance than the weak, tepid, and market-driven construct that you rightfully reject while at the same time providing a definitional construct that crosses denomination and polity lines? Cannot a Baptist in good conscience hold to this idea of “evangelical” and not compromise his Baptist identity or lapse into the vacuous approaches that the term popularly carries with it today?

Malcolm Yarnell: Wyman, I appreciate this question tremendously, for it lets me address the evangelical problem from the perspective of modern evangelical historiography, a field upon which whole careers are made and broken. (Did I use the terminology “mushy middle”? I hope not, for that would belittle my respectful concern regarding where the movement may be going.) If I were providing an encyclopedic taxonomy of “evangelicalism,” which was not my intent in the preface, I most certainly would have included the work of David Bebbington. This premier historian’s fourfold definition of evangelicalism as crucicentrism, biblicism, conversionism, and activism is both historically viable and religiously attractive. If “evangelicalism” were to be authoritatively defined, then Bebbington’s construct would be most attractive. However, for all its merit , the problem is that it is an historical definition and an historian’s definition. As an historical definition, which is all I imagine the professional historian Bebbington meant for it to be, it is subject to the vagaries and variances inevitable with the movement of history; as an historian’s definition, it carries no authority beyond those academics and others personally persuaded by the writings of Bebbington (and I am one of those). Bebbington’s definition has gained wide and deserved credibility among historians of the evangelical period from the late-eighteenth century through the mid-twentieth century.
But ultimately, the definition of “evangelical,” even by such an accomplished historian as David Bebbington, is subject to the same problem outlined in my preface: it lacks ecclesiological normativity. Unless a church decides its own meaning of “evangelical,” it will always be subject to shifts in meaning, according to whatever the latest poll and the reporting pollster indicate. Sociology is a poor substitute for biblical theology, as I pray church leaders will increasingly discern. Academics, whether historical, sociological, or theological, for all of its helpfulness, possess no ecclesiological authority whatsoever. Jesus Christ established the churches as his agents of reconciliation with the world, and no para-church institution or employee may lay claim to such divine mandate. As a result, it would be grossly presumptuous of any Christian academy to assume for itself theologically normative authority. As to your last question in this group, a Baptist church as a free church can do whatsoever it desires with the term, “evangelical.” Wisely, most have preferred to leave the matter alone, perhaps because they intuitively recognize that the term is unstable. Theology deserves a firmer foundation than that.

Wyman Richardson: I’m curious about your methodology. You choose to speak throughout the book through association with various figures and positions. As such, your proposals are presented somewhat vicariously through representative persons and episodes within historical theology. I wonder what you see as the particular strengths of writing theology in this particular manner? Why did you choose to write the book like this?

Malcolm Yarnell: The particular strength of writing a biblical systematic theology with great respect for the contributions of history is that it helps keep a person honest. When theologians claim undue creativity, they are contradicting the preacher (koheleth) of the Old Testament: “there is nothing new under the sun” (Ecclesiastes 1:9). The sensitive theologian will recognize that the biblical exegesis that we attempt is really just a new presentation of some old problem. Moreover, I personally believe it is wise to rely upon our theological forefathers. The truly great theologians are those who recognize the exegetical contributions of those who came before us. Respect for one’s elders seems to be a lost virtue in this emergent age, following closely upon the heels of the self-sufficient liberal age. When we theologians assume that we can read the Bible apart from the witness of the churches through the ages, we display a despicable pride.
Finally, as I indicated in the preface, theology is best done in community. The great thing for the modern historian is that the works of the early fathers, the medieval theologians, the Reformers, the modernists and fundamentalists, and those who do not fit well in a particular period are so widely available. Why not ground one’s theology in the Great Tradition, even as one provides a biblical critique of the various traditions that are grounded in the movement of God throughout history? Historical theology at its best is biblical theology conducted in conversation with the great Christian thinkers that have come before us.

Wyman Richardson: Methodist theologian Tom Oden has introduced a number of younger Baptists (like myself, ironically, in a Southwestern Seminary chapel service) to the Vincentian Canon through his paleo-orthodoxy programme. You are sympathetic to the importance of antiquity, universality, and consent, noting that theological neophilia is an act of “hubris.” Yet you are ultimately skeptical of the idea of a “patristic consensus,” pointing instead to the numerous conflicts, contradictions, and variances in patristic thought. Yet Oden and others are quite passionate about the existence of a “classical Christian consensus” (Oden’s term). Granting the maddening variety in patristic thought, was there not a core consensus or recognized orthodoxy on a number of key issues? Is consensus really so elusive when one considers the patristic writings?

Malcolm Yarnell: Thomas Oden is one of the greatest theologians alive this day. A few years ago, I had the privilege of hosting him as the guest lecturer for our annual Day-Higginbotham Lecture series at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. I have an abiding appreciation and hearty approval for his efforts to encourage what he refers to as “young fogies,” by which he means younger theologians who are highly interested in orthodoxy. And I would classify myself as one of those who encourage our students to know and ground themselves in classical Christianity. I do this in two ways: First, at the basic level, I utilize the major orthodox creeds (Apostles’ Creed, Nicene Creed, Niceno-Constantinopolitan Creed, the Formula of Chalcedon, Quicunque Vult) and encourage my students to know them, even memorize them. Second, at the more advanced level, I lead my fellow students, who have graciously allowed me to shepherd them, to read the major theologians of East and West, including Athanasius, Basil of Caesarea, Gregory of Nyssa, Gregory of Nazianzus, Tertullian, Cyprian, and Augustine, for instance.
However, I want my students, while they appreciate the brilliant contributions of the early church theologians, to see that they were not perfect. Like theologians today, they had their blind spots. What Protestant or free churchman can truly justify the sacerdotal system constructed by Cyprian, a system that has distracted many from the once-for-all sacrifice of Christ on the cross by focusing upon the sacrifice of the priest? What true Christian really wants to excuse the persecuting society that Augustine clearly justified in his theological innovations? The point I try to make in the book is one that is largely bypassed in the current rush to patristic theology: Although I personally believe we should hold to a basic Christian orthodoxy, which the early church fathers worked through especially with regard to Trinity and Christology, I also believe we must read the fathers critically. When we treat one theologian or synod or historical period with singular authority, we have in effect undermined the biblical canon.
Similarly, when it comes to the various periods of historical theology, although I have two degrees in Reformation theology, I refuse to treat the Reformation uncritically. This is why I do not measure orthodoxy through the ancient creeds alone or by the Synod of Dort, etc. And this is why I argue that the free churches must be willing to listen to the church fathers, the medieval schoolmen, the Reformers, as well as the modernists and fundamentalists. However, standing in judgment above every theologian, every council, and every period is Jesus Christ, who reveals Himself through the Bible. If we look at theology or theologians or their books or their conciliar decrees other than through the cross of Christ, we will err. We must ever be careful to follow Christ alone as revealed in the Bible alone through the illumination of the Spirit alone in the midst of the gathered body of Christ.

Frank Schaeffer’s Crazy for God

Posted on November 1, 2007 by Wyman

Dear Frank,

I hope you won’t mind me posting this open letter to you, but as it’s about your new book, Crazy for God: How I Grew Up as One of the Elect, Helped Found the Religious Right, and Lived to Take All (or Almost All) of It Back, and the very public statements you make in it, I figured you wouldn’t mind. You and I have actually had some very brief correspondence before. I emailed you shortly after readingDancing Alone and you responded with a few thoughts about the state of American Protestantism. But, you probably receive and answer countless emails every day, so you won’t remember that.

I’ve also met some of your family. My wife and I took your brother-in-law Ranald Macaulay’s Christian Heritage Tour around Cambridge. Also, to show you just how small the world is, your brother-in-law Udo Middleman comes occasionally to the home of some personal friends of his down here in Albany, Georgia, for dinner and conversation. I was invited two years in a row but could not make either occasion. I really regret it! My predecessor here at First Baptist Dawson also spent time at L’Abri and I was thrilled to find some old tapes of your dad lecturing down in our church library. I’ll tell you one more point of interest: a buddy of mine in college had an actual typed letter from your dad. I’ll never forget holding it and reading it in his little apartment in Columbia, SC. It was like holding the Turin Shroud at the time…but that was before I read your book.

Frank, I’ve got to admit that Crazy for God has absolutely shaken me. I could not put it down most of yesterday and a good bit of last night. I was prepared to hate it, and to be angry at you. I was prepared to see it as a blatant violation of the 5th commandment (which, alas, it is). I was not prepared, however, for just how devastating the book turned out to be.

I’m depressed today…because of you.

I guess I kind of knew what to expect. I read Portofino aloud to my wife some years back. We both guffawed…and my wife blushed at times…and then we felt sorry for your parents. I guess we felt sorry for you, but an acerbic wit and the dishonoring of one’s parents doesn’t easily engender sympathy, no?

I guess I’m part of that crew who still stands in awe of your father, though I hope not naively so. My dad gave me a copy of The God Who is There just before I went to college. I absolutely devoured that book. It rocked my world, Frank. My wife still jokingly responds to that time when I “was reading a lot of Schaeffer.” I was in about a two-year funk trying to bring your dad’s concepts into my little world.

The thing is, like many who grew up in fundamentalism but yearned to breathe outside the ghetto, your dad’s works were like light in the darkness. Heck, man, I was reading Jack Chick tracts in 8th grade and then Kierkegaard in college…because of Francis Schaeffer! Right now there’s a half-read biography of Albert Camus on the table by the sofa in my den. I would likely never have heard of Camus if not for your dad. But, you know the role your dad played and still plays. I don’t need to tell you.

I was never naive or fell into hero worship. You write about your dad’s temper, his depression, his anger. I guess it never occured to me that he would not struggle with these things. He was never, as Christianity Today creepily called him, “Our Saint Francis” to me. In fact, I pretty early on came to have real doubts about some of your dad’s assertions. I think, for instance, that he may have completely misread Kierkegaard. Also, when I re-read A Christian Manifesto a few years ago after having read it and written about it in seminary, I was shocked and I felt ill. I kept thinking, “No, no, no!” while reading it and wondered how I could have like it before.

But, I return time and again to many aspects of your dad’s work. I read a selection from The Mark of the Christian to our deacons the other night. Your father’s take on Christian engagement in culture is still dead on…and still being completely ignored by fundamentalists. So, I guess I’m saying that I always appreciated your dad for his strengths (as I saw them) and have tried to be honest about his mistakes (as I saw them). I guess that’s all we can ask of anybody when they think of us, no?

Your book, though, has troubled me…and, for some reason, I feel sad. You strike me as an angry person, Frank. You admit as much, I think. I first saw your anger when I read Dancing Alone. In Crazy for God you admit that in your initial days as a Greek Orthodox believer you acted towards others with that irritating and grating hubris that only a convert can deliver. I saw that in your book, as powerful as other sections were to me. I remember you constantly talking about the “devil god” of Calvinism and of Augustine. I kept thinking, “Sheesh, man! C’mon!” (Frank, I do have one theory about your anger. I pray you won’t take this as an ad hominem, but do you think that this might be the answer? Sorry…couldn’t resist!)

In this book you seem to have a little more introspection. I will admit up front to being caught hook-line-and-sinker in some of the more salacious details you provide, even when I was occasionally repulsed by them:

Harold Ockenga’s son taught you to smoke pot?

Your dad demanded sex from your mom every night…and your mom told you that fact?

Carl Henry was jealous of your dad?

You and Os Guinness scoped out girls together? (WHY did you keep spelling it “Oz” by the way?)

Billy Graham arranged a marriage between his seventeen-year-old daughter and the twenty-year-older son of a wealthy donor?

James Dobson is the most power-hungry man you’ve ever met?

The then-president of Gospel Films gave you profanity-laced advice on how to manipulate money from big-donors for the financing of the How Should We Then Live? films?

Your mom had to hide bruises on her arms from your dad?

Your dad walked in on you and your girlfriend having sex?

Your mom could be condescending towards your dad (“poor Fran”)?

Pat Robertson is insane?

Your dad threw a potted plant at your mom?

Gosh! It’s all so fascinating…and so wrong. And yet, I bought it, read it, have already recommended it, and now I’m putting it here on my blog. So what does that say about me?

Regardless, Frank, I kept thinking about Genesis 9 while reading your book. Remember?

20Noah began to be a man of the soil, and he planted a vineyard. 21He drank of the wine and became drunk and lay uncovered in his tent. 22And Ham, the father of Canaan, saw the nakedness of his father and told his two brothers outside. 23Then Shem and Japheth took a garment, laid it on both their shoulders, and walked backward and covered the nakedness of their father. Their faces were turned backward, and they did not see their father’s nakedness.24When Noah awoke from his wine and knew what his youngest son had done to him, 25he said,

“Cursed be Canaan;
a servant of servants shall he be to his brothers.”

There’s just something about uncovering your dad’s nakedness. I guess even Ham didn’t sell tickets for everybody to come in and take a look.

On the other hand, maybe this is confessional literature. You’re obviously not trying to make yourself look like a saint. Did you really steal porkchops and stuff them down your pants when times got tough? Did you really become infatuated with some young actress working on one of those ill-advised B-movies (even though you never did have an affair…because, as you say, “she had a boyfriend”)?

No, you can’t be accused of glossing over yourself. You emerge from this book as a little more understandable…but not much more likeable. But maybe none of us would seem very likeable if we bared warts and all to the universe.

Your book, though, does have its redeeming qualities. You are right on about the weirdness and creepiness of the fundamentalist sub-culture and the damage it can do to kids. You’ve shed some helpful light on the particular challenges of being the child of an evangelical superstar. You’ve provided a pretty devastating expose about the money and power that drives some of today’s evangelical stars. I, for one, was glad to see you do that.

You’ve certainly dealt a blow to the undeniable hagiography of recent evangelical history. Yeah, there can be no doubting that we romanticize our heros and worship a false image of those we adore. I think you’re right to warn us against this sort of naivite. You’ve humanized your dad and your mom, which is a good thing to an extent.

It’s not so much a question of sin as it is of propriety. I live down here in Georgia, Frank. As a rule, we don’t go talking about our parents’ sex lives.

Yet, you obviously love your folks. Your description of your walks with your dad and of who he really was when nobody else was around was very moving to me. I know that critiquing our parents does not necessarily mean dishonoring them. We’re all trying to deconstruct who we are. All of us. And so I understand the idea. But, really, your mom’s in her 90’s. Could you not have waited a bit on this?

I guess more than anything, Frank, I’m haunted by what you say about your own faith. You still attend the Greek Orthodox church, but you sound like an agnostic. Why did you put that little parenthesis in there. You remember? It said, “(If there is a God.)” It was heartbreaking, really. I mean, you keep telling us in this book that we’ve misunderstood your dad. I’m sure we have. But can I ask what your father would have thought of that parenthesis? By your own admission and even in your own painstaking description of his many phases, he would have thought that such a statement was tragic, no?

But even more than that, I’m trying to understand this: you say that you do not know what your children believe and that it’s none of your business. Then you speak of the inextricable bond between parents and children and note that when your son entered the Marines you practically went with him and, in fact, devoted seven years to writing about the military.

So help me understand how this works. That inviolable bond between parent and child caused you to dive into the military…but your bitterness at how your life turned out keeps you from diving into their souls? It’s your business that your son went to Parris Island…but it’s not your business to know whether or not he’s gone to Calvary?

Or am i just being one of those individualistic, arrogant, revivalistic, conversionist, dumb Evangelicals by asking such a question?

Maybe I am. Maybe the baby is more important to me than the bathwater. Like you, I’m always thinking about the bathwater. How did it get here? How has it tainted me? Did I ask for this? But I’ll tell you something Frank: I still love the baby and I won’t throw them both out just because the water needs to be cleaned from time to time.

And at the end of the day, Frank, there’s got to be a God there for us to be “crazy for.” Maybe all the craziness is an indirect proof of His wonder? I think Chesterton said something like that once.

Pax Vobiscum Frank.

Sincerely,

Wyman L. Richardson

Walking Together Ministries

A Resource for the Pilgrim Church

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