I am in Wheaton, Illinois this week. I’m attending a Charles Simeon Trust workshop for people who teach the Bible. I am here as a participant as well as on behalf of Matthias Media. Vaughan Roberts, rector at St Ebbes in Oxford, is leading the workshop alongside Josh Moody, pastor of College Church.

To most, those are simple and basic facts of my whereabouts this week. To me, it is a wonderful confluence of circumstances that represent the genesis of Matthias Media in North America.

It was twelve years ago that I stepped foot into St Ebbes in Oxford on a Sunday morning. By the time I left that evening (I think I did leave for lunch) my life was turned upside down.

When I arrived that morning, I had never heard of expository preaching or of Matthias Media. That evening, I had in my bag an Interactive Bible Study on Titus and a set of expository sermons (on cassette!) that would launch a complete rethinking of the Bible, my life and ministry.

My new friend, Peter Sanlon was an undergraduate there at Wycliffe Hall and applying for a position on staff back at my home church in Ohio. So he was keen for me to get a glimpse of his world there in Oxford. A key part of his world was two young ministers, Vaughan Roberts and Tony Jones. Led by these men, this world was full of robust theological thinking, biblical theology, expository preaching and personal ministry.¹

The remarkable part of the story is that I grew up in a solidly Christian home and church. I attended a conservative Christian college. I listened to well-known and faithful bible teachers on my commute to work. But, when I heard Vaughan and Tony give expositions on Revelation and Titus respectively, I knew that they were teaching and preaching the way it should be. No one told me this. I had yet to learn Dick Lucas’ text/framework instruction. I just knew. Call it intuition or, more accurately, the power of God’s Word preached in context and with vigor. Either way, it got my attention.

Now, that Bible study I came away with worked in almost exactly the same way. I had been through dozens of studies in church and at college. This one was different though. To me, it functioned as one of those new expository sermons I heard, only in print. It prompted me to work hard at observing the text, understand the context and respond in repentance and faith.

To keep it short and to the point, I will say that those two influences on my life—expository preaching and Matthias Media—grew over the next five years. So much so that when I was attending my first Simeon Trust Workshop in Wheaton in 2005, I sat at a restaurant over the dinner break and mused with some friends about getting Matthias Media into the United States. I knew that I couldn’t be the only person who needed a radical reorientation about life and ministry. Not everyone has access to top-notch expository preaching, but through the Matthias Media resources, every small group could. “We could think of it as expository ministry,” I told my friend.² “Through the training up in it through the Matthias Media resources, perhaps there could be more expository preaching and ministry.”

This week, I get to listen again to Vaughan in person at the place where Matthias Media North America was first thought up. It is indeed humbling that the Lord has been kind in using those circumstances to be a blessing to thousands of churches and pastors around North America.

I’ve pondered the reasons why it is so difficult to write out my thoughts once per week. If you were to ask my friends, it wouldn’t be because I lack opinions on any and all things.

There are the obvious reasons—two jobs, four children, micro-managing my Australian overlords, etc. But what is at the center of many of the other reasons is my sheer fear of man, and the opposite side of the same proverbial coin, people pleasing.

Some of the reasons are straightforward. For example, I am not sure if I want to put myself in harm’s way in the blogosphere, even just the four people who might read my posts.  Kevin DeYoung is a respected pastor and blogger over at The Gospel Coalition website. Usually, his posts are received with thankfulness and applause. The other day though he got lambasted by his readers when posting about politics. The many comments that shot him down were doing so because he wasn’t “staying within his field of expertise”. I actually wonder if I have any field I can write on. Thankfully, the readers here at The Briefing site are much more charitable and helpful.

It is the other side of that coin that gets me more. Being a fairly avid reader of current books on theology and the bible, as well as following some of the more well-known blogs, I confess that I often ask myself “What could I add?” and then move on to other tasks. I am not terribly insightful. The best I have to offer other people is what I read and hear from, well, other people.

Even with those sobering judgments, I still often set out to impress and wow people when I set out to blog on theology and Christian thinking. This came to light again as I set out to prepare some sermons for the summer and prepare for an upcoming Simeon Trust workshop. In both opportunities, I have been asked to prepare passages from 1 Samuel. And in both cases, I am—conscientiously or unconscientiously—trying to make sure I say something really smart and novel (and at least one humorous thing). Those are not helpful motives; nor are they often obtainable without some “give” on the message.

So, I’ll write something here that is not unique or breathtakingly amazing. I’ll write what you already know. I am a son of Adam in my fear of man (or woman) rather than God. Or, as the excellent book states, I am acting on life as though man is big and God is small.

I realize this doesn’t give me (or anyone) a good reason to blog or write mediocre posts about boring topics. Still, given that I’ve been asked to blog, I should go about it in a Christian manner. What does that mean? My motives should be to exhort, to proclaim, to stir up by way of reminder, to observe, to seek guidance. In other words, in doing what I am supposed to do for and with my brothers and sisters in Christ, I should seek to be faithful to the Lord. Not to be clever or to get re-posted by Justin Taylor (though, that would be cool!), but to be helpful, even if it is only for one reader who never posts a response.

Our mantra at the Trellis and Vine workshops is “do a deep work in the lives of a few and let God multiply the results”. Perhaps by getting back to regularly thinking of what will be helpful for others, God does a deeper work in me.

“Labels are for boxes and dieters” a friend told me after I asked him his theological persuasion. Many of my new Christian friends tell me basically the same thing. Most of them are under the age of forty, and none of them want to be labelled. They don’t want to identify themselves as Baptist or Presbyterian or Calvinist or conservative. They just want to be known as Bible-believing Christians.

Ever the instigator, I say, “Wait a minute. That is a label, isn’t it? After all, what other kind of Christian is there besides those who believe the Bible?” Then we have that discussion of what it means to be a Christian and how much of the Bible you have to really believe to be considered one.

For the first time in my life, I attend a non-confessional church. Previously I’ve attended churches that held to historic confessions of the faith—like the 39 Articles or the Westminster Confession. However, due to accepting a pastoral position, I now am ingraining myself in a broader evangelical church that confesses a belief in the Bible and in a short statement of faith similar to that of the International Fellowship of Evangelical Students. The change of church has resulted in my having many more of the above conversations than I ever thought I would.

This shouldn’t have surprised me. This is the age of individualism and self-sufficiency. What has surprised me is how, despite our anti-label culture, the term evangelical is still one that is so commonly contended for and shared by so many anti-labellers.

In 1995, Mark Thompson wrote about the label evangelical:

We are not simply defining an interesting and distinctive group within the Christian spectrum; we are defining authentic, biblical Christianity. Evangelical theology is not simply our label; it is God’s truth for the world. [1. Mark Thompson, Saving the Heart, Matthias Media, Kingsford, 1995, p. 7.]

Have the last fifteen years changed anything? Is the label worth fighting for? Does it mean anything anymore to call a church or someone evangelical?

Some authors—most notable of them is David Wells in The Courage to Be Protestant—think there is little hope of rescuing the term evangelical. Perhaps this landscape prompted Zondervan to commission Four Views on the Spectrum of Evangelicalism. Like many books in this comparative genre, this one attempts to allow representatives of differing views to make an argument and interact with others through a series of articles. The four views and their representatives are:

• Kevin Bauder—Fundamentalis
• Albert Mohler Jr—Confessional evangelicalism
• John G Stackhouse Jr—Generic evangelicalism
• Roger E Olson—Postconservative evangelicalism

The editors asked these scholars and pastors to speak and interact not just on their view but also around these three issues:

• What is their view’s take on Evangelicals and Catholics Together and The Manhattan Declaration?
• What doctrinal boundaries do you think evangelicals should have (using the issue of open theism and the role of the Evangelical Theological Society as examples)?
• What is your view on penal substitutionary atonement and its place in considering a belief to be evangelical?

This book was a fun read from cover to cover. The format allows bright men to interact with each other’s arguments in a thoughtful and measured way. My assumption was that I would early on take a side, enjoy that one article and then read begrudgingly through the rest. However, throughout the book I found myself agreeing with bits and pieces of each author’s response to another. Further, as one who enjoys reading church history, the treatment of the history of the evangelical movement—through four different lenses—was fascinating.

But it was a confusing read as well. While the editors presented the contributors the list above to interact around, I was not exactly sure what the goal of the book was. Sometimes the contributors were making a case for their particular view to be the defining view of an evangelical. Albert Mohler’s confessionalism article makes the case that evangelicalism’s identity lies in how one (or one’s church) responds to these issues—the trustworthiness of the Bible, the exclusivity of the gospel, the integrity of theism, and the nature of justification and the atonement (p. 89).

Certainly, the evangelical circles I know best would agree that those are the signifying issues, marking the difference between evangelicalism and mainline confesssionalism or liberalism. However, I was left wondering if confessionalism can really exist when there is no singular confession to confess. I know what confessionalism means for an Anglican or for many Presbyterians. I don’t really understand it when it comes to evangelicalism. The devil surely is in the details. Does one vacate evangelicalism with certain views on polity or six-day creationism? Depends on who you ask.

Kevin Bauder took a different approach while representing fundamentalism. Bauder argues that fundamentalism’s approach should be considered part of evangelicalism but that evangelicalism is not restricted to a fundamentalist approach. He says, “the rift between fundamentalists and other evangelicals is more than a half century old” (p. 48, emphasis added). Bauder clearly believes evangelicalism is broader than his fundamentalism.
Stackhouse and Olson both have a bit of a reactionary argument, arguing for a broader view than Bauder and Mohler. For example, Stackhouse says “Evangelicals who diminish or dismiss substitutionary atonement seem to be in the same camp as my evangelical brothers and sisters who espouse open theism: truly evangelicals, and truly wrong about something important” (p. 137).

Similarly, Olson labours to make the case that evangelicalism is a movement. As such:

Evangelicalism has no definable boundaries and cannot have them. An organization has boundaries; a movement does not. And without boundaries it is simply impossible to say with certainty who is and who is not an evangelical. (p. 163)

Interestingly, he later then questions the possibility of Seventh-day Adventists and Churches of Christ being evangelical (p. 180).

Detailed arguments for and against each strand of evangelicalism by the contributors are found within the book. I certainly wouldn’t be able to add much insight beyond what these scholars have already put forth. But, after reading and thinking about these arguments, I have little more clarity than when I started. I still wonder if the evangelical label is worth contesting for and, if so, what exactly one would be fighting for or against.

A complaint on the methodology of the book is that it seemed like there was an intentional avoidance of Scripture. Perhaps the editors thought it would open up too many proverbial cans of worms. But I would have enjoyed a healthy debate on key texts that may signify the exclusiveness or inclusiveness of an evangelical brand of Christianity and if any other such brand of Christianity could really exist.

The book could be helpful to some, especially those who are in the trenches of these debates. However, for my friends mentioned above, I doubt a book like this would be helpful. In fact, I worry that the book may reinforce their views that labels are only good for fighting over or, more generally, that words contain so little meaning that we should focus instead on just getting along. I would not be too fussed if those views were held only in relationship to the issue at hand—the nature of evangelicalism—but such vacuums do not exist.

I’d rather commend something concrete and singular like John Stott’s Basic Christianity, and the dialogue over its plausibility and correctness. There will still be nagging questions about whether there is such a thing as non-evangelical Christianity or the role of confessions and creeds. But, now equipped with a summary of the core doctrines of the Bible and a summary of the gospel—as Stott’s classic book provides—it would be clear that words and doctrine do matter, and that beyond anything else Jesus is Lord.

Still, there is much more to be dealt with.  I am re-reading Broughton Knox’s The Everlasting God. He brings up a slightly different way to help someone understand judgment, connecting it with creation and purpose.

Here is a sampling of quotes from his section on judgment (pgs. 36-41):

“Creation implies purpose. In contrast, impersonal evolution is purposeless – things happening by accident without plan. But creation is a personal activity of an almighty, supreme God. Personal action implies purpose, and this in turns implies assessment. The doctrine of judgment is closely related to that of creation.” (37)

“Thus the gospel that contains judgment, and salvation from judgment, is a gospel that is always relevant to the hearer, no matter what state of civilization he may have attained. Such a gospel does not need to be assimilated to the culture of the people who are hearing it.” (39-40)

“A gospel that minimizes or omits judgment must concentrate on this life and benefits that Christ brings for this life. Most modern preaching, whether liberal or evangelical falls into this mistake. The liberal preacher may emphasize a social gospel, for example, one of alleviation of poverty or political oppression; the evangelical may emphasize a happy life, love, joy and forgiveness.

But the Christian gospel is concerned with the future. It proclaims Jesus who rescues us from the wrath to come. When hearers accept the gospel for the benefits of this life, such as peace and happiness, it is a contradiction to ask them to suffer for the gospel. The whole purpose of their accepting the gospel was for some present benefit which they had been offered by the preacher. This presentation and acceptance of the gospel of Jesus Christ for the benefits it brings here and now may well be the explanation of why it is that although evangelical Christianity is growing, for example, in the United States, Christian influence on society is receding.” (pg 40-41)

A few observations:

• Establishing the story of a people in a purposeful creator/creation relationship, as Two Ways to Live does so well, seems to be the way to assimilate this “no-assimilation-needed” gospel. Are there other ways or variations on the theme that you have found true to the above ideas?
• By connecting creation/purpose with judgment, are we making an unintended statement about God and his ability in creation? (i.e. “God is surely not a very powerful, or good, or able, etc. creator if this world is his handiwork”)
• With that, will the conversation inevitably trace down the road towards predestination and, among other places, Romans 9?
• His observation about preaching the gospel towards this world’s benefits or felt needs is spot on. Just this last week, I’ve heard at least two mature Christians recount talks to non-Christians about the essence of Christianity. Their talks were all about self-fulfillment and inner peace. Those may not always be there. Future judgment will.
• I haven’t heard a better concise explanation of how and why Christianity can grow but have a lessening effect on society.

After reading a critique of Kevin DeYoung and Greg Gilbert’s What is the Mission of the Church? I wonder if their question is the next great debate of the evangelicals. Certainly, there is great overlap and relationship between these two issues. And maybe the somewhat defunct Emergent Church (or, is it Emerging?) has brought together these two issues in what it has tried to say and do.

Whatever one thinks of the debate, you can’t deny – at least in the US – that the issue of the church is on the forefront. I only heard questions about the church and its mission in the halls of my seminary as a student. Now, I am hearing them from the most average of the average Joes at my church.

Why does the church exist?

What should a church look like?

What should a church do?

Not less than a few Moore College graduates have told me of Broughton Knox’s take on the issue. Second-hand sources tell me that he said “The church doesn’t have a mission. The church is the mission.”  I’d like to think that it is a correct reporting of his statement because I like it.

Either way, does it reframe the discussion? Or, is it another way of saying the same thing that DeYoung and Gilbert are saying? (You can get a good feel from the review posted above, but I suppose I can safely say that the church’s mission, according to the authors, is to make disciples.)

Maybe a few MTC graduates who know about the context of this purported statement can fill me in. Or, better yet, maybe anyone can let me know if he is on to something with this statement.

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