Hillbilly Elegy - A Review

I’ve now read the much discussed book by J. D. Vance, Hillbilly Elegy: A Memoir of a Family and Culture in Crisis. It was promised to be a gritty read, revealing the reality of poverty in the Appalachian region that is often overlooked. The book largely lives up to its reputation.

Vance notes early on that it seems odd for someone his age—he’s in his early thirties—to write a memoir.  Unlike the biographies of young Christian athletes that seem to lurk on the shelves of Christian bookstores, Vance’s memoir is not presumptuous but worth the time it takes to read it.

So much time and effort is spent in explaining urban poverty. The breakdown of the urban family. The overloading of the urban school systems. Often the term “urban” is a code word for racial minorities.

While cyclic poverty is an issue in cities, Vance exposes the reality of rural poverty and shows that in many ways it may just as severe a problem as the urban variety. In fact, for some, rural poverty has a strong potential to be more severe. One reason for this is that many of the resources the urban poor rely upon are simply unavailable for the rural poor, or they are located too far away to be useful.

Vance succeeds in painting an accurate picture of some of the worst off among the so-called hillbillies. Having grown up in the foothills of the Appalachians, surrounded by people that fit the description of Vance’s hillbillies, I’ve heard some of the stories, seen some of the stress on kids, and smelled some of the misery he’s talking about. Thankfully I’ve never lived it, but it was close by. (I’m thinking about, for example, my friend whose dad was in jail for killing his mom with a hammer while high on some form of drugs.) Reading Vance describe what he went through gives me a bit more empathy for some of my acquaintances who were surviving bad situations.

If there is one key takeaway from reading this book, it should be empathy. It is likely that Vance’s story represents both the low end of hillbilly culture with the drug addicted mother, revolving door father-figures, and unawareness of the outside world. At the same time, it also represents an atypical result where someone was able to overcome the difficult start and had the talent to make it to and graduate from Yale’s law school. However, reading about the domestic abuse and social stigma Vance dealt with should work to kill some of the unforgiving dismissal of hicks, bumpkins, and swamp people that is common in suburban and urban culture. (I state that it is common based on anecdotal data, rather than empirical evidence)

Just as telling the stories of ethnic minorities suffering simply because of their ethnicity are part of the narrative of identity politics on the left, so might listening to stories of legitimate hardship among the many white, rural poor are a necessary part of understanding the perspective of a large swath of the nation.

Vance’s story helps explain why it took me years to be able to understand the racially stilted form of identity politics common among some of my more liberal and well to do friends at the Naval Academy. I knew that poverty, broken families, and systemic disadvantages were not solely owned by today’s preferred protected classes. Thankfully, I’ve had good people patiently explain why systemic injustice is still largely a racial issue instead of screaming at me. I’ve also known enough ethnic minorities to hear their stories to understand the biases against them and lived in the South long enough to recognize the historical proximity of Jim Crow to today.

At the same time, many more cosmopolitan Americans still fail to recognize that being among the rural poor can be nearly as socially damning as being an ethnic minority, but without the protection of the media, the judicial system, and the cultural left. Hillbilly Elegy helps explain why some people don’t believe in “White Privilege” and think that affirmative action is a form of vile racism. They feel feel like they are on the bottom of the social ladder and the zero-sum game policies of the political left keep them down. In some cases, that’s likely the case. As Vance explains, being white doesn’t grant as much social capital as those who equate whiteness with established families and well-positioned social networks seem to believe. It’s not that there is no benefit in some segments of society to being white, but that it isn’t quite the pass to an easy life that some seem to describe.

Hillbilly Elegy doesn’t answer every question about the white working class and its struggles. It doesn’t offer a master theory that will unite the nation politically after a turbulent election year. The book is not an academic treatise that considers all potential historical causes, nor does it reconcile all of the possible sociological implications of rural poverty. However, this memoir of a kid who lived rough but is doing pretty well so far helps to give a view into a world that many people never see from the interstates. It challenges racial narratives and, if read for empathy’s sake, could break down some of the bubble many appear to live in.

Note: I received a gratis copy of this volume with no expectation of a positive review.

Against White Identity Politics and Religious Registration

For all of the tizzy that some people are in over the election and the counter finger-wagging from others, there are some signals of significant causes for concern. There have been a number of false reports that have come out about the transition team and, since they supported the prior assumptions of many, they have been run with. This is problematic. However, through the noise of exaggeration and misreporting of news, there are some signs that ought to concern people of good conscience.

Against the White Genocide Movement

This election has revealed that there are good people that are becoming attracted to a movement for white ethnic identity, which is often described as opposing “white genocide” or “cultural Marxism.” As a response to the perpetual hammering of identity politics on the left, it is an understandable development. However, as a strategy for unity and justice, it is doomed to failure. Any political system that seeks disunity over unity should be rejected. The United States has already tried separate but equal once. It failed. It was mostly separate, but hellishly unequal. We should not think about going there again.

As Christians, our identity is first in Christ. As Paul tells us clearly, in the church “there is not Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave, free; but Christ is all, and in all.” (Col 3:11) The church is a fundamentally political institution. We have “immigration policies” in which we offer membership to believers who have participated in the initiation rite of baptism by immersion. (At least in the Baptist context.) We seek justice in our relationships toward one another. However, the church is doomed to fail in the pursuit of justice if it retains distinctions based on nationality or ethnicity.

Photo: Lighting Strike by Fabio Slongo. Used by CC License:  http://ow.ly/48DR306gJNI

Photo: Lighting Strike by Fabio Slongo. Used by CC License:  http://ow.ly/48DR306gJNI

The future of the church is unity across ethnic barriers. This is the image we see in Revelation 7, “I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the lamb, clothed in white robes with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, ‘Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!’” This is not a vision that should fuel ethnic division or even permit us to countenance such as the body of Christ. While we are unlikely to attain to this vision while on earth, this is what we should pursue today.

Rejecting white nationalism or white genocide does not equal a call for an “open border” immigration policy. (A common accusation against many on the right and left by those supporting white identity politics.) The United States has the right to set immigration policies that take into account the good of its citizens—this is a function of nation-states in our day, and is not inherently unjust (although it may be pursued unjustly). However, the perception of some (and some that I’ve seen who claim to be Christian) is that we must build a movement of white ethnic solidarity and ban all immigration or risk being overcome. The second is implausible, despite ridiculous claims to the contrary. The first should be anathema to Christians given our eschatological hope in a supremely diverse chorus of voices joined in worship.

Against Religious Registries

Recently someone actually went onto national television to argue for a registry of Muslim believers. Or, at least, he argued there was precedent for it. Much news can be made of this person’s relation to the incoming administration. Of greater concern for me is that such a terrible idea should never have seen the light of day outside of a condemnation of our distant past.

The person speaking was correct to note that the U.S. has a precedent for registering people. He was also correct to note that during World War II we registered and interned ethnic Japanese, some of whom were immigrants. There is a precedent for such a registry.

However, the internment of ethnic minorities during World War II is an instance of protectionist government overreach. This is a black mark on our nation’s history, not the sort of historical event we should dust off and try to recreate in the present. We should not even consider it an option, though I will engage in a thought experiment for the sake of discussion.

Let’s assume we create a registry of everyone in religion X. To do so, we have to ask ourselves how we will determine whether someone is part of that religion. Is it attendance at a worship service? Is it being born into a family that has at some point attested to being part of religion X? Is it having grown up in a nation that is perceived to be predominately filled with religion X? What happens if someone converts to another religion? How do we determine whether that conversion is authentic?

All of a sudden, the government is trying to make decisions about things that it is simply not qualified to do. Religion isn’t ethnicity, where a family tree justifies inclusion. Even when dealing with ethnicity, how much is too much? One parent? One grandparent? A brother in law? For religion, the government would have to ask a different, more nebulous set of questions.

The obvious and necessary outcome is that the government steps into the role of religious authority. Person A has demonstrated sufficient effort to be considered Christian even though he grew up in a Muslim home. At the same time, since Person B simply stopped attending the Mosque and hasn’t picked up another active religion, should he be considered to still be Muslim? Unless he eats some bacon and draws a cartoon of Mohammed? Would open sacrilege be sufficient (or necessary) to change a classification?

Suddenly, I’m catching a whiff of the Inquisition. That’s not a high point in human history, much less in Christian history. I’m also hearing echoes of the persecution of the Jews under the Nazi regime. Certainly it wouldn’t start there and it might never get to that extent, but the echoes of that horror of the persecution of the Jews should be enough to steer us clear.

So what happens when the anti-theists get hold of the government? Now we can get parallel registries of Muslims and Christians. No worries, they will just be keeping tabs on people of faith. Why? Just to keep everyone safe and ensure the government knows what is going on. And then to perhaps ensure that we don’t have people of certain faiths in certain government positions. Does this sound like a dystopian fiction? Yes, but it’s only a step or two beyond registering Muslims, which someone felt comfortable bringing up as a possibility in a TV interview.

This is the sort of thing that Christians (and any reasonable people) should speak against. It’s not a good idea. It’s not going to make us safer. It’s not going to end well. If we’re for religious liberty for some (ourselves?), then we need to hold out the same rights for all. That needs to be the principle we stand on.

The government does not have the wherewithal to regulate religion. The common good is not enhanced by the government regulating religion. Making people register their religious affiliation is not simply information gathering, it is regulating. We must keep this power away from the government.

Just a Media Overreaction?

One of the tragedies of contemporary society is the 24-hour news cycle. This creates the problem of the proliferation of interviews of people who might know someone that knows something speaking authoritatively about stuff. There is such a need to fill the airwaves that they bring people that might float the idea of something like a Muslim registry on national television. This, then, fuels dozens of hot takes (like this one), replays, edits, and discussion panels. Sometimes the furor is over nothing.

I’ll be glad to find out that this suggestion is really nothing. Unfortunately, there are some that will hear it and begin to think that such a simple encroachment on civil liberties is really worth it to prevent the explosion of another IED or another religiously driven night-club shooting. Because of the protectionist stance some (particularly whites) are taking, this will begin to sound like a good idea. Reading Twitter and some of the Alt-Right propaganda sites provides evidence that this idea isn’t just nothing.

Sometimes there is an overreaction that deserves to be neglected. The media cries wolf too often, as a rule. However, we can’t let their failures in the past prevent us from seeing problems in the present. These are issues that have the potential to take root in the minds of some in our churches and we should be careful not to let sin get a foothold.

The purpose of this post, therefore, is not to fuel the overreaction, but to offer some consideration for the ideas that are actually being floated as plausible and to encourage Christians to think about how these ideas betray the gospel (as with white nationalism) and put impartial justice in jeopardy (as with the Muslim registry). People are actually talking about some of these things as if they are good ideas. They aren’t, and we should make sure that the church is clear in standing against them.

Political Church - A Review

As C. S. Lewis once wrote, “A sick society must think much about politics, as a sick man must think much about his digestion.” By this metric our society is very diseased. Even given the special focus on politics caused by it being a Presidential election year, society is excessively focused on politics because our society is a festering wound of dislike and division.

One might think a book on political theology would simply contribute to the excessive focus on politics and the sickening mix of politics and religion that we are seeing with the Religious Left openly lobbying for their flawed candidates and the Religious Right arguing for theirs, too.

However, in the hangover from this election, the church will do well to pick up Jonathan Leeman’s recent book, Political Church: The Local Assembly as Embassy of Christ’s Rule. This is the book on nutrition for the glutton suffering from indigestion after binging on junk food.

The thesis of Leeman’s book is that “the church is a kind of embassy, only it represents a kingdom of even greater political consequence to the nations and their governors. And this embassy represents a kingdom not from across geographical space but from across eschatological time.”

This would be a dangerous theory if Leeman were arguing that the church has the same political purpose as a parliament or congress. There is a difference between the church and the state; they have overlapping magisteria but different means of influence. Leeman’s vision of the church and the state is not of two kingdoms, but of a single kingdom with state and church reflecting the authorities of the current kingdom and the future kingdom, respectively. Leeman stands well within the Augustinian tradition via a deep interest, though not uniformity, with Oliver O’Donovan.

Summary

This is not an introductory volume on political theology. Leeman’s discussion is a distinct approach to the place of the church in contemporary politics, but understanding this volume requires a fair understanding of the various political theologies that he is critiques and is building upon.

At the same time, Leeman’s volume begins a step before many others do by addressing some of the basic questions that one must understand before attempting a political theology. The first two chapters of the volume address the important questions, (1) What is politics? and (2) What is an institution? The various meanings of these terms are discussed in some depth before moving on. Though Leeman leaves some flexibility in the terms for his own use, his discussions of historic definitions provide context for the remainder of the book.

The next four chapters outline a positive political theological using a biblical theology as a foundation. The chapters run along the progression of creation, fall, redemption, and restoration.

The chapter on creation places God at the center of all politics. He made this world and is the just and righteous judge of all things. It is his authority that is represented through the work of both the government and the church. The nature of politics is shaped by the nature of the creator God.

In dealing with the fall, Leeman goes beyond the actual original sin of the primal couple to discuss how falleness has influenced all human interactions since that time. Leeman walks through the biblical storyline to show how sin has influenced government and increased the need for its justice.

The chapter on the politics of the new covenant focuses on the ongoing need for the work of the cross to be done in public. This means repentance, forgiveness, and good natured striving for the common good. Leeman is careful to distance his view from theonomy. In fact, he notes that attempts to bring about the eschatological kingdom on earth now never end well. Instead, Christians should work to apply the gospel as much as possible to earthly situations as one would expect of citizens on the new covenant kingdom.

The last chapter deals with the politics of the kingdom. However, this doesn’t refer to the eschatological kingdom, but is an especial focus on the polity of the local congregation. Leeman exercises his Baptist muscles in talking about the importance of church membership, credo baptism, and right practice of the Lord’s Supper. These are elements of the church that prefigure the coming kingdom. By being faithful to justly administer its own borders, the church stands as witness to the kingdom that is to come. The church is a political body because its policies and ministry influence the world, though it begins at a very local, individual level.

Analysis

Leeman’s book is a helpful approach to political theology because it begins with the narrative of Scripture and asks what the text says about the church’s political engagement. By beginning with the ideas of Scripture and working out, he formulates a much more distinctively Christian political theology.

In other words, political theology generally begins with a vision of what good is, which is often derived from an interpretation of Scripture. However, most political theologies then apply an extra-biblical method to achieve the desired goods.

For example, the Social Gospel movement sought (or seeks) to bring about the kingdom largely through a Rawlsian approach to government that favors strong individualism and a preference for government engagement in solutions at nearly every level. This approach then creates an implicit need for the church to pursue justice by seeking greater government control and introducing more radical human freedoms. The church’s main role in this vision of political theology is as a lobbyist to influence the state’s earthly authority.

A similar criticism could be levelled against movements that are more theologically conservative, as well.

The point is that Leeman’s volume offers an approach that is designed to constrain the Church to her proper role in pursuing a right polity within her own area of influence. The message of the gospel as it is preached in the church should affect all of life, but the authority of the Church in the present age is somewhat limited. Leeman’s biblical theological approach to political theology helps to keep the church in her lane, and rightly focused on the gospel.

Leeman’s point is that the church is an inherently political institution. When it is functioning well, it cannot help but influence the world around with the message of the gospel. If the church fails to equip people and influence communities toward justice, as it is biblically defined, it has failed in its mission. However, when the church begins to engage in politics to increase redistribution of wealth through taxation or enforce certain moral codes through judicial means, then the church has exceeded its authority. Between these failures is the proper political role of the church.

This is a helpful resource for those who are familiar with the general content of political theology. Leeman’s approach is innovative and fresh. It is distinctly biblical. As such, it is a useful resource for those seeking to live rightly in our fallen world.

Note: I received a gratis copy of this volume from the publisher with no expectation of a positive review.

Speaking of Ethnicity

Race relations in the United States is becoming a third rail topic. Better to discuss politics and religion than to suggest there might be ongoing patterns of systemic racism in some circles.

If social media is any indication, some groups seem to think that by even discussing racial differences, others are fomenting and accentuating racism.

In extreme cases this is true. However, in most cases, the people discussing racial issues are dealing with the real difference between the minority and majority experience in the United States.

The Myth of Color Blindness

One of the arguments against discussing race is the argument that society should be “color blind.” The term means that we should not consider the color of people’s skin when making evaluations of people and their work.

Image Credit: Old Couple, used by CC license, http://ow.ly/oA8T303zFnk

Image Credit: Old Couple, used by CC license, http://ow.ly/oA8T303zFnk

I believe that most people engaged in discussions of race relations see “color blindness” as a desirable outcome in the long term. In Martin Luther King, Jr.’s iconic “I Have a Dream” speech, part of his dream is that people will not be judged by the color of their skin. Someday a future generation may reach that point.

Despite the desire to have a world in which skin color does not matter, that world does not exist now. We have a world in which ethnicity and skin color still do matter much more than they should.

At this point, there are some who will swoop down onto my argument like a vulture to point out certain statistics. What I’m speaking of here is more than just statistics—whether the statistics support certain percentages of killings by ethnicity or disparate academic outcomes.

I’m speaking of the observed reality that my middle-class, professional, African-American friends have on average been pulled over many more times than I have for no more apparent cause. I’m speaking of the reality of my own observations of minority males of color being treated differently than me by authorities even while we were both in uniform. I’m speaking of the internal impulse in my own mind to make snap judgments about people based on their appearance.

I like statistics (in fact they are a fun part of my job), but they don't always tell the whole story. Sometimes they tell a different story than reality.

To claim that skin color does not influence societal evaluations is foolish. It’s like a person ignoring an infection in a limb.

Our Wounded Reality

Imagine if you get a cut in your finger while working a dirty job. You ignore the pain and keep working. You tell your hand that it is OK and that it is just like your other uninjured hand. Both hands are equally valuable to you, therefore it should stop hurting. Meanwhile it gets infected. However, you don’t clean the wound or treat it. You tell your hand that the cut was inflicted a couple of days ago and that it hasn’t been cut recently, so it should stop aching. Slowly the infection may heal, if conditions are right. Or, quite possibly, ignoring the legitimate needs of your hand could cause the infection to spread and perhaps even blood poisoning to set in.

At best, the neglected hand heals itself but may scar significantly or take longer to fully heal due to the lack of medical care. At worst, the blood poisoning spreads and kills the individual with the injured hand. In both cases consequences could have been avoided by taking timely, appropriate action.

Few people would ignore an injured hand. Instead, most people react to a cut by getting first aid, keeping it clean, and treating the injured hand differently for a time. The common sense understanding is that the wounded hand may have different needs for a time.

There is wisdom in recognizing there is a difference between the hands and taking care of the wound.

Our contemporary reality of race relations is something like this analogy.[1]

The Reality of Injury

To provide just one example, African-Americans were economically and socially harmed by American society by being enslaved and later by unjust laws that were in place in the middle of the last century. There are enough evidences of ongoing negative racial bias that we need to accept that such bias continues to exist in some cases. (See: the alt-right movement)

There has been legitimate injury done that will necessarily take time to heal. It may also take focused attention to promote healing, which includes at least being free to talk about racial differences without being accused of fomenting division.

Until healing occurs, we need to recognize that there are differences in society between the experiences of people of different ethnicities. Stereotypes built on generations of observed behavior, depictions in entertainment media, and self-selected identities all impact the experience of people in the United States. It takes time to change these deeply seated societal ideas, but the first step is to recognize they exist. Someday we may be able to be “color blind,” but we aren’t there yet. In many cases we really aren’t that close.

Moving Toward Change

We should long for the day when ethnicity is a point of interesting difference, like discussing where people grew up and what their favorite home-cooked food is. However, the experience of racial minorities in the United States is often significantly different than that of the majority. If you want to know what sorts of differences exist, talk to a few minorities. Their experiences will be unique, but some common patterns will tend to emerge if the sample size is large enough.

Unless we address the injustice of some of those differences, the healing process will not progress very quickly. Unless people are free to explain what is wrong without being accused of hate and division, we can never have meaningful conversations.

We can certainly have meaningful discussions about the best ways to deal with our differences. There is no simple solution for undoing the intentional harm inflicted in and by previous generations. There is no single, easy method of eliminating the often obscure, but deeply seated biases of contemporary perceptions.

However, until people are allowed to have open, charitable conversations about the existence of differences because of ethnicity, society will be unable to move to the next phase of healing.

[1] The analogy obviously breaks down at some point. I am not inferring that racial minorities are somehow infected limbs that should be removed from society. Quite the reverse. I am hopeful that this analogy will illustrate the interconnectedness of society and the value in promoting social healing for overall health. Just as one does not blame the hand for being wounded, we should not blame minorities for past ills inflicted by society.

Under Our Skin - Benjamin Watson Discusses Race in America

When Benjamin Watson, a Tight End in the NFL, wrote a Facebook post in the aftermath of the Ferguson, MO decision, some hailed it as a “race-baiting” others saw it as an attempt by at least one person to try to make sense of the racial tension in our world.

The thing is, whether we all like to admit it or not, race is still an issue in the United States. For the most part we’ve gotten over the biggest obstacles to living with one another: Jim Crow has been repealed, discrimination based on ethnicity is forbidden, and society doesn’t generally tolerate overt racists.

However, that doesn’t mean that the issue is settled. It isn’t. And the reason that we need to talk about it is so that we can identify and begin to root out subtler forms of bias against other races.

Benjamin Watson’s book, which was co-authored by Ken Petersen, tries to bring gracious light on the issue from the perspective of one African-American. This is a book that will make you think, even if you don’t agree with all of the details. That is, it will make you think as long as you take the time to read it and try to see what Watson is really communicating.

Summary

The book includes an introduction and eleven chapters. The topics of ten of the chapters come directly from the bullets in Watson’s original, viral Facebook post.

Watson begins with anger, but he recognizes what it is and moves beyond anger to establish a gracious tone. He invites the reader in to his perspective on the status of race relations in general and the Ferguson decision in particular. This chapter shows that our starting point can shape how we view the justice of the ending point. Instead of arguing with his readers, he tries to show why he arrives at his perspective.

That’s really the point of the book. It makes the reader aware that there is another perspective and that it is rational. In the end, the reader chooses to believe it or not, but a fair reader should walk away with a better understanding of Watson’s view of race in the United States. Although he certainly doesn’t speak for all African-Americans, his perspective is authentic and winsome. It can’t hurt much to think about things from his point of view.

In much the same way, the remaining ten chapters examine emotions that Watson experienced in response to the Ferguson decision. Introspection, embarrassment, frustration, fearful confusion, and sympathetic sadness are among them. Add to these things feeling offended and hopeless, but at the same time encouraged and empowered. Watson walks through how all these emotions were a part of his response. He does this without giving into any of them or becoming so rational that he discounts the power of the emotions.

Reaction

This isn’t a book on theology with a linear argument that I can critique. Even if it was, that isn’t the point of the book. The point of the book is to get the discussion about race going. It is intended to get one side to see that there is more to the conversation than facts and figures; simply showing that overt racism has been banned is not the end of the story. It is intended to show the other side how to begin a discussion without so much anger that your words can’t be heard.

I think that Watson succeeds in providing a gracious beginning point for conversation.

Watson’s book helps me, a white man, to better understand what it’s like to see things from his perspective. He puts into gracious terms some of the bits and pieces of testimony I’ve heard from friends that are part of racial minorities. I can’t have ever experienced these things, but I can certainly appreciate his perspective better now because he presents his case so carefully.

It is shameful that for many people on the political right simply talking about race has become a divisive political issue. Of course, often that idea is intentionally promoted, as some try to use racial division to paint the other side into a corner. But the issue is too important to allow it to driven by politics.

When we are talking about race, we are talking about people made in the image of God. We are talking about how we treat one another and whether justice is being done. Those are gospel issues, not merely political issues. This is a conversation that we can’t afford to skip out on. This deserves a deep discussion and consideration of where we are as a society, not merely a cursory head nod to equality.

I am thankful for Watson’s book and that he took the time to write it. He’s making enough playing football that he didn’t have to take the time, and yet he did. I’m thankful for the way he engaged the question so that I could benefit from his perspective.

In the end, I’m hopeful that reading this book has helped me see things a bit more clearly and gives me the ability to have a bit more empathy. I’m hopeful that others will read the book and have a similar experience.

Note: I received a gratis copy of this volume in exchange for an honest review.

Here is a video Watson did with The Gospel Coalition on this topic: 

Is Charles Finney the Prototype for Evangelicalism?

With the recent publication of the second edition of a book from the 1970’s, Douglas M. Strong has repackaged Donald Dayton’s theory that evangelicalism is defined by faith experience and right living, rather than by doctrinal fidelity. 

 Dayton’s book uses Charles G. Finney and those closely tied to him as the exemplars of this trend. While it cannot be denied that Finney preached the gospel (or at least a form of it) widely and pointed many to Christ, there is significant doubt that Finney’s belief system is a viable foundation for a sustainable Christian faith, much less being at the heart of historic evangelicalism.

Charles G. Finney

Charles G. Finney

 Finney’s intellectual hubris was his theological undoing. As a trained lawyer, and by all accounts a very intelligent man, Finney assumed that he could, without cultural influence, rightly interpret Scripture. Based on a likely limited library at his teacher’s house, Finney rejected all historical Christian teachings because he did not like the way they were argued. Instead, he committed himself to a “no creed but the Bible” approach, without the aid of theological conversation with contemporary or historical peers. This unfortunate confidence was enabled by Finney’s quick wits and premature promotion to public ministry. In truth, Finney’s belief that he could rightly interpret Scripture without any external influence affecting the outcome rests very close to what is known as the “fundamentalist fallacy.”

Misunderstanding the Atonement

 In his autobiography, Finney records his opportunity to debate with a Universalist while he was still in his ministerial training. His teacher was ill and Finney stood in, ostensibly to defend orthodoxy. Finney writes,

I delivered two lectures upon the atonement. In these I think I fully succeeded in showing that the atonement did not consist in the literal payment of the debt of sinners, in the sense in which the Universalist maintained; that it simply rendered the salvation of all men possible, and did not of itself lay God under the obligation to save anybody; that it was not true that Christ suffered just what those for whom he died deserved to suffer; that no such thing as that was taught in the Bible, and no such thing was true; that, on the contrary, Christ died simply to remove an insurmountable obstacle out of the way of God’s forgiving sinners, so as to render it possible for him to proclaim a universal amnesty, inviting all men to repent, to believe in Christ, and to accept salvation that instead of having satisfied retributive justice, and borne just what sinners deserve, Christ had only satisfied public justice, by honoring the law, both in his obedience and death, thus rendering it safe for God to pardon sin, to pardon the sins of any man and of all men who would repent and believe in him. I maintained that Christ, in his atonement, merely did that which was necessary as a condition of the forgiveness of sin; and not that which cancelled sin, in the sense of literally paying for the indebtedness of sinners. (Charles G. Finney, Charles G. Finney: An Autobiography [Westwood, N. J.: Barbour Books], 38)

Finney rejected the notion of election, divine calling, and substitutionary atonement in Christ’s death on the cross.

In truth, Christ’s death on the cross as a human in human form was only necessary because it is substitutionary. If all Christ did was make possible salvation in a general way, it could have as simply been done by fiat as by self-sacrifice. Without extending this post with further discussion on the atonement, it is clear that Christ came as a redeemer not as an enabler. Even taking a thematic view of Scripture, rather than pursuing a verse by verse defense, it does not seem that Finney’s perspective on the atonement is helpful. In short, even without accepting a fully Calvinistic theological paradigm, Finney’s reasoning seems better suited to win an argument against Universalism than to be considered biblically faithful.

An Unsound Foundation for Evangelicalism

 In all this, I am not making the claim that Finney was not converted, nor that he did not have a profound impact on many people. Finney preached a form of the gospel that enabled many to come to faith in Christ through repentance of sin. He was also instrumental, as Dayton and Strong rightly argue, in ending the evils of American slavery.  All of these things could have been, and were otherwise, done while still maintaining doctrinal integrity.

 By basing their image of historic evangelicalism on individuals on the fringe of orthodoxy, more subject to their culture than to Scripture, Dayton and Strong have undermined their own case.

 In fact, most of the organizations and theological movements cited in this volume have tended to cut their mooring to Christian orthodoxy in the years since Finney’s influence. Wheaton University has maintained fidelity to its evangelical doctrine. On the other hand, the Salvation Army is no longer concerned with salvation in any meaningful sense. Oberlin College, where Finney was president, is no longer distinctly Christian.

The track record of Finney’s theology demonstrates a failure to thrive in the long term. In the first generation, the theological content is assumed, in the second it is unknown, and by the third it is rejected.

This should point present day evangelicals toward the need to be active in pursuing social justice while adamant about maintaining the doctrinal orthodoxy of our Christian heritage.

A Brief History of Mercy Ministry in the Church - Part Two

This is part Two of Three posts in a series on the history of Mercy Ministry in the Christian Church. Part One is accessible here.

After introducing the topic and giving a brief overview of Mercy Ministry in the Early Church,  today's post emphasizes the Patristic Era, Medieval Era and Reformation Era.


Patristics

Photo by .craig. Used by Creative Commons License.  http://ow.ly/IHw3G 

Photo by .craig. Used by Creative Commons License.  http://ow.ly/IHw3G 

During the Patristic Era, Christianity was the dominant religion in the Roman Empire. This period ended when the Roman Empire fell. The church rapidly went from political underdog to a political favorite. The new found favor led to a convergence between worldly politics and church offices. The bishop in Rome began to have more and more power, eventually gaining more significance in the eyes of the people than the emperor. Notably, it was Pope Leo I who negotiated a treaty with the Attila the Hun, not the Roman Emperor. By the time the Roman Empire collapsed due to repeated invasions in 590 A.D., the Church was a greater uniting force than the vestiges of the Roman government.

 The Emperor Julian, often called “The Apostate,” made an active attempt to remove Christianity from the Roman Empire in the middle of the 4th century. In his diatribe against Christians he wrote, “The impious Galileans not only feed their own poor but ours as well, welcoming them into their agape; they attract them, as children are attracted, with cakes.” Obviously there is some sarcasm here, but the point should be well taken that Christians had a significant impact in their society because they did mercy ministries.

 Ambrose of Milan wrote, “It is justice that renders to each one what is his, and claims not another’s property; it disregards its own profit in order to preserve the common equity.” (Ambrose, On the Duty of the Clergy, i.) So here, the merciful action of Christians is looking after the interests of others even at their own expense.

 For Augustine, the Bishop of the North African city of Hippo, seeking the common good was a demonstration of Christ’s command to demonstrate neighbor love:

Now you love yourself suitably when you love God better than yourself. What, then, you aim at in yourself you must aim at in your neighbor, namely, that he may love God with a perfect affection. . . . From this precept proceed the duties of human society, in which it is hard to keep from error. But the first thing to aim at is, that we should be benevolent, that is, that we should cherish no malice and no evil design against another. For man is the nearest neighbor of man. (Augustine, Of the Morals of the Catholic Church)

In the same work, he urges his readers to care for the physical needs of their neighbors. Drawing an all-encompassing circle around the needs of the human body.

Man, then, as viewed by his fellowman, is a rational soul with a mortal and earthly body in its service. Therefore, he who loves his neighbor does good partly to the man’s body, and partly to his soul. What benefits the body is called medicine; what benefits the soul, discipline. (Augustine, Of the Morals of the Catholic Church)

What we can see in this period of church history is that there was a theological impetus toward mercy ministry. Augustine, who remains a central figure in the development of Christian doctrine, balanced the need for evangelism with the need for meeting the physical needs of the people around. Far from a novel invention of the millennial evangelicals, mercy ministry has been a core Christian practice.

Medieval

The Medieval period runs from the fall of Rome to the beginning of the Protestant reformation. This is a period of time that sees the Papacy as largely the most significant political force in the known world. The Popes are the kingmakers, since according to the theological understanding of the day, the Pope held the keys to the kingdom of heaven while the kings only controlled daily life.

 Monasticism was a leading movement in implementing mercy ministry in the middle ages. Among the Sayings of the Fathers that record the words of many of the early monks, and which were influential in later monasticism, we have such statements as these:

From our neighbor are life and death. If we do good to our neighbor, we do good to God: if we cause our neighbor to stumble, we sin against Christ. (From The Sayings of the Fathers, cited in George W. Forell, Christian Social Teachings (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1966), 85.)

A brother asked an old man: “There are two monks: one stays quietly in his cell, fasting for six days at a time, and laying many austerities upon himself: and the other ministers to the sick. Which of them is more acceptable to God?” The old man answered: “If the brother, who fasts six days, even hung himself up by his nostrils, he could never be the equal of him who ministers to the sick. (Ibid.)

Thomas Aquinas built on Scripture, church tradition and Aristotelian philosophy to argue: “Justice is a habit whereby a man renders to each one his due by constant and perpetual will.” (Aquinas, Summa Theologica, II/2.58.1.) So internal holiness is not the only goal, because “justice is an external operation, in so far as either it or the thing we use by it is made proportionate to some other person to whom we are related by justice. . . . Therefore the proper act of justice is nothing else than to render to each one his own.” (Aquinas, Summa Theologica, II/2.58.11.) Thomas was operating under a view of nature that held to common natural rights to the earth, and so God’s plan was for the earth to meet all the needs of the inhabitants of earth.

 In addition to these sources, there are many other evidences of active work in ministry done by the church on behalf of the poor. Taking care of the poor was a central pillar in the doctrine of the church. At times it became questionable whether it was consistently central to the practice of the church. However, there is clear evidence that during this period, mercy ministry was viewed as essential to being Christian.

Reformation

For the purposes of this discussion, the Reformation Era runs from 1517 when Luther posted his 95 theses on the doors of the Wittenberg Cathedral to about the end of the 30 Years war. During this time, theological strife was rampant and mixed with political issues as princes and kings were encouraged to engage in wars under religious guise but often for political reasons. This was also a period which saw the rise of the nation-state and a market economy.

 The theological thrust of the Reformation was the recovery of the gospel. In the view of Luther, the gospel had been so misrepresented by the Roman Catholic Church that radical reformation of the church practices and doctrines were required. In that time, though, everyone was “Christian” in the sense that all Europeans were brought into the church through infant baptism. Thus there were few questions about doing good to Christians vs. non-Christians. At the same time, Luther’s 95 Theses were largely driven by a desire to restore just dealings in Europe. Two of the injustices wrapped up in the sale of indulgences were the redirection of economic resources to Rome for improper purposes and the offer of forgiveness without repentance. Theses 43–46 read:

43. Christians are to be taught that he who gives to the poor or lends to the needy does a better work than buying pardons;

44. Because love grows by works of love, and man becomes better; but by pardons man does not grow better, only more free from penalty.

45. Christians are to be taught that he who sees a man in need, and passes him by, and gives [his money] for pardons, purchases not the indulgences of the pope, but the indignation of God.

46. Christians are to be taught that unless they have more than they need, they are bound to keep back what is necessary for their own families, and by no means squander it on pardons.

 Calvin, too, held mercy ministry as a central role of the Christian. These comments come from his treatise on the Ten Commandments, explaining the application of the Eighth Commandment: 

The purport is, that injustice being an abomination to God, we must render to every man his due. . . . For we must consider, that what each individual possesses has not fallen to him by chance, but by the distribution of the sovereign Lord of all, that no one can pervert his means to bad purposes without committing a fraud on a divine dispensation.

Calvin was urging the righteous use of money, which is a form of mercy ministry. In his Institutes, Book 2, Chapter 8, Calvin explains that doing good to neighbors is an essential part of true piety: 

Because a man does not easily maintain love in all respects unless he earnestly hears God, here is proof also of his piety. Besides, since the Lord well knows, and also attests through his prophets, that no benefit can come from us to him, he does not confine our duties to himself, but he exercises us “in good works toward our neighbor.” The apostle consequently has good reason to place the whole perfection of the saints in love. Elsewhere he quite rightly calls it the “fulfillment of the law,” adding that “he who loves his neighbor has fulfilled the law.”

 More could be said about the function of the external works of righteousness in the life of the Christian, but from these evidences it is clear that the Reformers held mercy ministry as a central function of Christians.

A Brief History of Mercy Ministry in the Church - Part One

Original photo by Alex Proimos, The Hand. Used by Creative Commons License. http://ow.ly/IHuJH

Original photo by Alex Proimos, The Hand. Used by Creative Commons License. http://ow.ly/IHuJH

Over the past few decades, conservative Christians have had to “rediscover” the biblical doctrine of mercy ministry because many had retreated from the application of the gospel to society.

Aside from the clear theological error, one reason for this abandonment was a reaction to the strong push by many theologically liberal Protestants to do practical social ministry without proclaiming the gospel. Those who advocated social ministry over the gospel felt that meeting physical needs was the primary function of Christianity and teaching doctrinal truth was a divisive non-essential. 

The somewhat predictable overreaction led many doctrinally conservative Christians to overemphasize theological truth to the exclusion of practical ministries. Additionally, in the 19th and 20th centuries a particular view of the end times became very popular, teaching that the world would be annihilated and an entirely new kind of creation would be made by God. This form of eschatology tended to deemphasize the importance of good works done in this life that were not of an explicitly “spiritual” nature.

 In the middle of the 20th century, there was a rise in a stream of theology called Missional Theology, which tends to focus on a broader view of God’s working in the world. This movement has influenced evangelicals, even those outside of the Missional movement, to return to the earlier Christian patterns that emphasized both proclamation of the gospel and meeting people’s physical needs.

 In a series of three posts on the history of mercy ministry in the Christian tradition, I will attempt to show in very broad terms, that social activism is deeply rooted in the history of the Church. This is something that should characterize the way the church lives in addition to doctrinal orthodoxy.

 In order to gallop through this expansive history in a short time, I have divided Church History into five basic periods. We will look at the role of the church in doing mercy ministry during the Early Church, the Patristic era, then the Medieval era, the Reformation era, and finally the Modern era.  

Early Church

 The Early Church is generally defined as the period from the death of the Apostles to the acceptance of Christianity as a legal religion in the Roman Empire in the first decades of the 4th century. This is a period that was characterized by periodic and regional persecutions of Christians by the pagan Roman Empire. The Christian Church was often marginalized, but more socially than physically in most cases. During this time Christian theologians were fighting to establish legitimacy of the Church and to obtain permission to continue to exist as a Church “above ground.”

 Waldo Beach and H. Richard Niebuhr note that the early church was most known for the assistance provided to fellow Christians. They write, “The most striking quality of the Christians was their agape in the care of their own group, as seen in their assistance to the bereft, to orphans and old people, in the care for prisoners and the sick and those condemned to the mines, and in their hospitality and the sharing of economic goods.”[1] This is likely largely because it was illegal to be Christian and because the church was too small in the early days to be a significant social force.

 However, in the earliest Christian writing after the New Testament, the pursuit of justice on a broader scale is evident. The Epistle of Barnabas, the author (not Barnabas) speaks against the prevailing Roman practice of exposing children: “That we may avoid all injustice and impiety, we have been taught that to expose the newly born is the work of wicked men––first of all because we observe that almost all [foundlings], boys as well as girls, are brought up for prostitution.”

 The author of the Didache writes, “Give to everyone that asks, without looking for any repayment, for it is the Father’s pleasure that we should share His gracious bounty with all men.” This points toward mercy being shown to those around and not merely the Christian community.

 This attitude is described by Tertullian, “One in mind and soul, we do not hesitate to share our earthly goods with one another. All things are common among us but our wives.” This he included in his Apology for Christians. However, Tertullian makes it clear that their acts of mercy were not focused solely on Christians:  

“We have no respect of persons in doing good, because by so doing we do good to ourselves, who catch at no applause or reward from men, but from God only, who keeps a faithful register of our good works, and has ample rewards in store for this universal charity; for we have the same good wishes for emperors as for our nearest friends.”[2]

 Based on the historic evidence, neighbor love was a central aspect in the lives of the Early Church. Largely based on their position as (generally) lower class individuals outside of the usual power structures, it seems that often a great deal of effort was directed within their faith community before pursuing mercy ministry on a public scale.

[1] Waldo Beach and H. Richard Niebuhr, Christian Ethics: Sources of the Living Tradition, 2nd ed. (New York: Knopf, 1973), 53

[2] Tertullian, Apology, chapter XXXVI.

Is Doctrine Central to Evangelicalism?

When a second edition of a theology book is published nearly four decades after its first publication and just over a quarter century after its second printing, it begs for an explanation. The explanation is even more necessary when the book is a monograph and the author is dead, requiring the addition of a second author to edit and augment the volume.

 Rediscovering and Evangelical Heritage: A Tradition and Trajectory of Integrating Piety and Justice is the equivalent of a digital re-mastering and re-release instead of a series reboot. Donald Dayton’s original text remains intact. The 1988 printing only added a preface. The most recent edition adds postscripts to several chapters, another introduction (1/4 of the book is introductory!), a conclusion, and a foreword by Jim Wallis.  The core of this volume is exactly the same as it was in 1976, three years before my birth.

 The answer to my question rests largely in the similarity between the cultural milieus. Just as the 60’s and 70’s gave rise to a growing number of Christians who emphasized social justice and cultural engagement over doctrinal definitions, another similar tide is rising. This time, instead of the civil rights and the beginning stages of environmentalism, we have an aggressive sexual revolution and a much stronger push for environmental repristination. Wallis is nearly correct when he observes in his introduction “that a new generation of evangelical Christians is hungry to do exactly what these earlier reformers [the 19th century subjects of this book] were doing.”

 After its excessive front matter, the book has ten chapters. The first seven deal with institutions or people that Dayton felt represented the best aspects of evangelicalism in the 19th century. He writes about Jonathan Blanchard, who founded Wheaton College, in the first chapter.  Chapters two through seven focus on Charles Finney and those who are closely related to him. All were active in abolitionist movements most were active in moving parts of the church toward egalitarianism. Chapter eight explains that, according to Dayton, the roots of feminism are in evangelicalism. Chapter nine emphasizes the focus on the poor and marginalized among the 19th century American evangelicals. Finally, chapter ten laments the loss of social justice among evangelicals and tries to explain why this loss apparently happened.

 There is some helpful history in this book. It accurately portrays the evangelical pursuit of the end of slavery before the American Civil War. Many of the abolitionists were Bible believing Christians, contrary to the popular meme that portrays all Christians as bigots. This is because chattel slavery founded on the practice of kidnapping is unquestionably a violation of biblical norms. The fact that some Christians couldn’t see that, or that they argued against that, is not an argument against Christianity but an indictment of cultural blindness and bad hermeneutics.

Charles G. Finney

Charles G. Finney

 This book gets it wrong by assuming that Finney is theologically representative of evangelicalism. Finney held some doctrines which were consistent with theological orthodoxy. However, Finney, confident in his own ability to reason, approached Scripture alone, without benefit of the community of tradition to help shape his beliefs. This is what led Charles Finney to adopt the heresy of Pelagianism, or a position next door to it, according to some friendly accounts. Even Donald Strong admits in the newly added conclusion, “Finney’s theological orientation went beyond these standard Arminian positions when his preaching ended to verge close to Pelagian works righteousness, especially when he described humanity as having an almost unaided ability to bring about social perfection.” Other contemporary theologians, like J. I. Packer and Beth Felker Jones (who is a Weslyan and generally sympathetic with an Arminian point of view), have described Finney’s doctrine as Pelagian.

 In short, despite the good that Finney did in preaching the gospel, he did so from an unsound theological foundation that tended to undermine the realistic vision of humans as sinful people, living in a sinful world, in need of God’s redeeming grace to save and redeem them. Finney’s preaching enabled social justice movements to move forward vigorously, but crippled the future generations that would reject the established doctrinal foundations that empower believers to recognize the source of injustice in human sin and call for righteousness through the cross.

 The rejection of concern for right doctrine is at the heart of Dayton’s and Strong’s version of evangelicalism. Strong makes the lack of concern for orthodoxy apparent in his conclusion to the 2014 edition. He argues that religious experience (“orthopathy”) and ethical behaviors (“orthopraxy”) are the central characteristics of evangelicals. He then specifically rejects concern for right belief (“orthodoxy”) as a necessary attribute for evangelicals.

 In truth, what Strong and Dayton seem to be arguing for is a lighter form of liberation theology, which maintains a real, but less caustic suspicion of the text of Scripture. This is similar to the position argued in another recent book from Baker Academic, Introduction Evangelical Ecotheology: Foundations in Scripture, Theology, History, and Praxis. In that book the authors present an ecologically formulated liberation theology as an acceptable evangelical option despite its rejection of the norms of Scripture.

 In the end, the purpose of Rediscovering an Evangelical Heritage is to promote the idea that right doctrine is not an essential characteristic of the authentic Christian life. What matters for this paradigm is having a religious experience and acting the right way. In some ways, this sounds much like the Pharisaic lifestyle–which was primarily concerned with externalities–more than true conversion–which comes through the power of the Christ and leads to the conversion of the mind and the hands.

 The movement to reject doctrinal norms and sever contemporary evangelicalism from historical mooring has been ongoing for decades, but it is reaching a new climax of activity as social liberals attempt to lure self-identified evangelicals into socially popular positions that contradict Scripture. This book is an attempt to argue toward that end. It encourages young believers to reject “doctrinal exclusivism and biblical literalism,” by which Strong means evangelicalism connected to historical Christianity.

 In many cases, as with a pursuit of environmental health, just treatment of minorities, and reform of the justice system, folks like Dayton and Strong have just cause. Pursuing social justice is a moral good and a necessary part of being a true evangelical. However, so is doctrinal integrity. Maintaining doctrinal integrity prevents believers from advocating for abortion rights, redefining sexual norms, and creating policies that wantonly eliminate societal freedoms because those things violates the image of God.

 Doctrinal integrity permits evangelicals to ask the question, “Is this consistent with what the community of God has consistently believed about the world?,” in addition to asking, “Is this immediately consistent with my envisioned ideal state for the world?”

 The evangelicalism promoted in Rediscovering and Evangelical Heritage rejects the foundation of doctrine, and thus enables the ability to reject scriptural teachings in pursuit of contemporary definitions of justice. In other words, contemporary culture becomes a superior source of moral authority to Scripture.

 In this manner, the value of the unborn, biblical sexual norms, and property rights become subject to debate, despite their settled nature in historic interpretations of Scripture within the church. The church can do better than this. Evangelicals can, contrary to Dayton and Strong, pursue doctrinal integrity and social justice. Indeed, they must.

 This book is significant and worthy of attention. Not because its content is earth-shattering (it can’t be this because it was originally published decades ago) but because it points to a recognition that in many ways we are where we were in the 1970’s, though the issues have changed slightly. This re-publication points toward an opportunity for orthodox evangelicals to respond to culture and doctrinal degradation in a way that is more helpful and healthy than the Religious Right and the Moral Majority were decades ago. We should be thankful to Baker publishing and to Douglas Strong for making that clearly evident.

Note: A gratis copy of this volume was provided by the publisher with no expectation of a positive review.