Purves, Andrew. (2001). Pastoral Theology in the Classical Tradition. Louisville, Kentucky, Westminster John Knox Press.

This little book seeks to address the author’s concern that the practice of pastoral care “is, by and large, uninformed by historical practice.” (5) Purves identifies the need for “a profound reappraisal of core working assumptions in pastoral theology,” (5) and to this need, seeks to apply wisdom gleaned from five figures in church history: Gregory of Nazianzus, John Chrysostom, Gregory the Great, Martin Bucer, and Richard Baxter.

His selection of these five was directed by the fact that they wrote directly about the work of the pastor, rather than addressing specific issues of theological debate.

SUMMARY

After a brief introduction, to which I shall return in my critique, Purves summarizes the contributions of each of these five figures in succeeding chapters. Each chapter is divided into a brief biographical section, a discussion of common themes in the subject’s theology, and finally an analysis of the pastoral theology of each man. These chapters are headed with the title of the work for which each figure is credited by Purves with having contributed significantly to the development of pastoral theology.

Chapter one, Gregory of Nazianzus ‘In Defense of His Flight to Pontus’, identifies several recurring themes in Gregory’s theology, such as his belief that the theologian must receive “a special call” (13), and his understanding of the final goal of the Christian life, which he called “deification.” (14) Purves also briefly discusses Gregory’s understanding of the Trinity, Christology, and anthropology, before moving to a discussion of his pastoral theology. This section discusses at length Gregory’s view of the pastor as a “physician of souls,” whose goal it is “to contend on behalf of God and thereby to lead people back to God.” (19) Other topics addressed include the difficulties of pastoral work, the spiritual requirements for being a pastor, and the life background, call, and obedience to that call of those who aspire to the pastoral office. This chapter concludes with an outline of Gregory’s The Flight to Pontus.

John Chrysostom and his Six Books on the Priesthood are the subject of chapter two. Following the biographical summary, Purves addresses Chrysostom’s approach to exegesis by describing the difference between the heavily allegorical Alexandrian school of Origen and Philo, and the Antiochene approach, of which Chrysostom is “the best-known representative,” (39) and which “clearly aimed at ameliorating the excesses of Alexandrian allegorical exegesis and spirituality.” (39) Purves then discusses “Chrysostom’s Antiochene Christology,” before moving to a treatment of his pastoral theology. In discussing the nature of the pastoral office, Chrysostom was clear that it “must be understood theologically first of all to be a sharing in Christ’s own love for his people.” (43) Before anything else, a pastor must heed Christ’s call to Peter: “Feed my sheep.” Purves concludes the chapter with a discussion of Chrysostom’s teaching on the moral and ethical dimension of pastoral work.

In chapter three, Purves turns to Gregory the Great, and his enduring work, Pastoral Care. Themes identified by Purves in the theology of Gregory include the relation between the natural and the supernatural, the balanced approach to life which Gregory called consideratio, and the nature of the Christian life. Gregory’s belief that “in salvation the human also must act” (62) has far-reaching consequences for his understanding of the Christian life, a life in which “ambivalence and terror…never go away.” This will have many implications for his pastoral theology.  Much of this theology is discussed in terms of the character of the man who would hold the office. This was of primary importance to Gregory, whom Purves quotes: “No one does more harm in the Church than he, who having the title or rank of holiness, acts evilly.” (65) Purves then examines Gregory’s teaching on the life of the pastor, as well as his understanding of the practice and complexities of pastoral work.

On the True Pastoral Care is, says Purves, “the principal Reformation text on pastoral theology.” (76) Martin Bucer, its author, is the subject of chapter four. After a biographical summary, Purves identifies election and justification, scripture, love, and the Eucharist as themes in Bucer’s theology.  In his pastoral theology, Purves recognizes two dominant themes that inform Bucer’s teaching: the role of the Bible, and a focus on Christ. Indeed, says Purves, Bucer “displays a remarkable awareness of the active personal rule of Jesus Christ in and over his church.” (84) These themes are woven throughout Purves’s examination of Bucer’s understanding of the scope of pastoral care, addressing such themes as evangelism, pastoral discipline, and care for the weak.

Richard Baxter and The Reformed Pastor are the focus of chapter 5. The biographical summary in this chapter is preceded by a brief history of Puritanism. Themes in Baxter’s theology identified by Purves include the practical application of the Christian faith to everyday life, and the doctrine of justification. The discussion of Baxter’s pastoral theology begins with an emphasis of the spiritual formation of the pastor. This is primary for Baxter, as Purves notes, “…he is more concerned with the pastor’s life in God than with the parishioner’s, because adequate attention to the latter is possible only by one who has paid attention to the former.” (105) He then discusses Baxter’s emphasis on conversion as a pastoral goal, and concludes by looking at Baxter’s insistence on pastoral care as individualized care, as a “personal ministry to persons.” (111)

Having surveyed the lives and pastoral theologies of these figures, Purves reaches several conclusions in his final section regarding the confessional content of pastoral care, the necessity to root both pastoral care and pastoral theology in the study of the scriptures, and the necessity of the office itself. Purves also offers conclusions about the need for pastors to care for themselves and the accountability to God for their conduct of the office. In each of these conclusions, Purves bemoans the current state of pastoral theology and argues that an intentional reclamation of the classical tradition will lead to a more robust and balanced practice of pastoral care today.

CRITIQUE

I found this book to be enormously helpful for gaining a broad look into the lives of men about whom I knew practically nothing. While I recognized all five names, I knew them only as placeholders on a timeline of the history of the church. This book introduced them to me afresh as serious and passionate men of God, men who thought deeply and wrote helpfully from their perspectives in order to advance the practice of pastoral care. As someone called by God to serve His people in a local church, I am grateful for the lives and writings of these men, and grateful to Purves for his excellent summaries. If nothing else, I can recommend the book for this.

My concerns with the book are mainly to do with its stated purpose. I know nothing about the author that is not revealed in this book, but he clearly writes from a mainline Protestant liberal perspective. He seeks to rescue pastoral care from the modern movement, a movement he says, “…within the North American Protestant theological academy by and large revolves around psychological categories regarding human experience and symbolic interpretations about God.” (3) I have no doubt this is the case, but Purves offers the wrong cure. This is a book summarizing what five men have written regarding the work of the pastor. If Purves wants to save us from “human experience and symbolic interpretations,” the solution is not going to be found in the writings of fallible men, however inspiring and truth-filled they may be. The solution is going to be found in the infallible Word of God. Sadly, the “North American Protestant theological academy” has long-since abandoned that solution.

CONCLUSION

Purves opens this book with a story about being called to the bedside of a dying former church member. He talks about this woman’s need for “a reminder of the reality and truth behind the central doctrines of the Christian faith as they applied to her life at the point of her death.” (1) The solution to the problem of contemporary pastoral care identified by Purves as his reason for writing lies here, in “reality and truth” as revealed in scripture. A good grasp of the historical development of pastoral theology is certainly useful, and this book does a good job of at least introducing the reader to the topic. But recovering pastoral care from the pop-psychology and humanistic practices that are so prevalent today requires a return to the conviction that in the pages of the Bible, we have a sure and certain Word from God that informs all of the work we do and the lives we live as under shepherds of the Great Shepherd.

Thom Rainer & Eric Geiger, Simple Church. Nashville, TN: B&H Publishing Group 2006. Pp. 257. $19.99. Hardcover.

Bringing their experience and research to bear on the organization of the local church, Rainer and Geiger argue that less is more. Specifically, they argue that a church that does less, but does so with a clear focus on their process for the making of disciples is more effective than a very active church that is not intentional about moving people to greater levels of faithfulness in their walk with Christ. This effectiveness is measured by consistent growth in worship attendance.

SUMMARY

This book is divided into two parts. In the first, the authors begin with the bold assertion that “the simple revolution has begun.” Indeed, this is the title of the first chapter, and the central assumption on which the rest of the book is based. It also seems that this assumption is the basis upon which the research that fills out the book was based. An illustrative fictional story from the perspective of an overly busy pastor is shared, and examples from corporate America are cited in the first chapter.

The authors move in the second chapter to a description of evaluative visits made to examples of a “simple church” and a church that has yet to join the revolution. The authors examine every aspect of each congregation, including programming, staff meetings, calendars, numbers, and how the churches handle new ideas and staffing decisions. Each of these is evaluated in terms of how it contributes to the simplicity or complexity of each ministry.

Chapter three uses the illustration of the popular television program “Extreme Makeover: Home Edition” to argue for the need for an “extreme makeover” in many congregations in order to simplify their work. They explain the motivation and design of the research project of which this book is a result, and introduce four terms that will be the focus of the second part of the book: Clarity, movement, alignment, and focus. The fourth chapter explains how these terms apply to three existing congregations.

Part two, titled “Becoming a Simple Church,” explains each of these terms in great detail; in fact, each is given its own chapter. Chapter five, “Clarity,” argues for the need for a clear understanding of what the church’s discipleship process should look like, using the analogy of a builder with clear blueprints. Chapter six, “Movement,” explains the importance of “removing congestion,” and moving through a never-ending process of discipleship. The seventh chapter, “Alignment,” points to the importance of making sure that all the programs of the church are united in their commitment to the overall progra

m of disciple-making within the church. Chapter eight, “Focus,” discusses the importance of doing only those things that contribute to the overall purpose of making disciples, and saying no to almost everything else.

The final chapter gives a step-by-step process for implementing the “simple” process in a local congregation, and it is followed by appendices detailing the research methodology and addressing frequently asked questions.

CRITIQUE

This book is written in an easy, conversational style, and it is a relatively quick read. The first-person plural is employed throughout, giving the book a very personable feel. The appeals to research are compelling, and the illustrations from the corporate world and the popular culture are quite helpful to the reader in gaining an understanding of the argument the authors present.

But from the perspective of biblical faithfulness, this book has some troubling aspects. First, the only apparent metric by which the authors judge a church to be “vibrant,” “healthy,” or “effective” is numerical growth over a five-year period (65). The control group for their research, what they called the “comparison group,” was composed of churches that had not grown numerically, or had declined, over the same period. Second, while there are certainly numerous appeals to scripture in the arguments made in this book, they are significantly outnumbered by the appeals to statistical analysis, business realities, and cultural illustrations.

Another concern is for that great majority of churches that have less than 100, or even less than 50, members. The actions counseled in this book may work well in churches of 300+, where volunteers are plentiful and ministry loads can be spread over a broad group. But in a small church, where everyone does everything, implementation of this counsel may be difficult or impossible to implement.

CONCLUSION

While numerical growth can certainly be a sign of health and vitality in a congregation, it is far from a guarantee. There are many examples of “churches” in American evangelicalism that are growing exponentially, yet they are demonstrably unfaithful when it comes to the proclamation of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Certainly this faithfulness ought to be considered when gauging a church’s “effectiveness,” but this appears not to be a consideration within the pages of Simple Church. At the same time, the churches that faithfully proclaim the truth of the saving message of scripture yet do so in small congregations and in complete obscurity are myriad. Because the research upon which this book is based makes no attempt to analyze this faithfulness statistically, it is biased toward “growing” churches, rather than faithful churches.

Doubtless there are principles and processes counseled in Simple Church that can be of benefit to churches seeking greater faithfulness to our Lord’s command to make disciples. Unfortunately, they must be filtered through the wisdom from corporate or popular culture that may or may not apply to the church. The weight of the advice in the book comes from these arenas, rather than from the Word of God, making it difficult to separate the timeless from the popular.

Simple Church can certainly be of benefit to the congregation seeking to make disciples as Christ commanded, but a great deal of discernment will be needed to separate the wheat from the chaff.

The work Verduin seeks to accomplish in this volume is thoroughly to describe the major issues that separated Reformers such as Luther, Calvin, and Zwingli from those who believed their reforms did not go far enough. These he identifies as the stepchildren of the reformers, justifying this moniker by their treatment at the hands of those in whom they had early placed such great hope. With a focus upon the relationship between the ecclesiastical and the civil authority, Verduin details the distinctions between these two groups as they arose around various beliefs and practices of the stepchildren.

SUMMARY

Verduin accomplishes his task by detailing, in eight chapters, eight of the terms of derision hurled at the stepchildren by the Reformers. Each of these terms is simultaneously descriptive and misleading, which was likely the intent behind their use. The first, and lengthiest, chapter, Donatisten, gives a detailed description of the controversy that arose in the fourth century surrounding the followers of Donatus in northern Africa. In his description of the Donatist schism, Verduin devotes considerable space to the development of the concept of a “sacral society,” by which he means a “society held together by a religion to which all the members of that society are committed” (23). He casts the rebellion of the Donatists as a protest against that ideal, and describes how the stepchildren came to be derided as “neo-Donatists.” This “sacral society” concept Verduin identifies as coming to dominate the West in the “Constantinian change,” wherein the formerly persecuted primitive church becomes the unifying religion of the empire, and the object of rebellion not only for the stepchildren of the Reformation, but for “heretics” throughout the medieval period. This will be foundational to Verduin’s argumentation in much of the rest of the book. The second chapter, Stäbler, discusses the penchant of the stepchildren for carrying a staff as a symbol of their protest against the coercive power of the sword that had been brought into the church at the Constantinian change. Chapter three, Catharer, describes the Radical emphasis on the changed life of the truly converted, as contrasted with the “conductual-averagism” necessary to a church coextensive with the empire. Chapter four, Sacramentschwärmer, discusses the development of the sacramental view of salvation in the established church, and the stepchildren’s biblical aversion to it. The fifth chapter, Winckler, is not as concerned with the secrecy of Radical gatherings that led to the epithet as with the unlicensed nature of the ministry carried out by them. Wiedertäufer is the title of chapter six, and it is a signature of the Radical Reformation. The Anabaptists themselves, of course, saw themselves innocent of the charge, convinced as they were by scripture that only a believer could be truly baptized. Kommunisten, the charge that the stepchildren had not only their possessions but also often their wives in common, is dealt with in chapter seven, and chapter eight, Rottengeister, is something of a catch-all, describing several practices for which the Radicals were accused of faction-making.

CRITIQUE

This volume has many strengths for which to recommend it, and comparatively few weaknesses of which to complain. Verduin’s depth of knowledge of the subject shines through his many appeals to primary sources, the quotation of which is well balanced and helpful. And while the focus throughout the book is upon the period of the Reformation, readers of a free-church persuasion will appreciate the author’s recognition of “heretics” throughout history who have stood for the principles for which the Radical Reformers suffered so greatly. A couple of potential negatives bear mentioning. Readers may take issue with Verduin’s characterization of the Anabaptist’s argumentation against infant baptism, reliant as it was on the New Testament witness, as a “demotion of the Old Testament” (i.e. at 210). Perhaps the reference is only meant to be comparative to the Reformer’s supposed elevation of the Old Testament, but the repeated use of this phrase by the author can leave the impression that the Radicals held a sub-orthodox doctrine of revelation. Additionally, readers not fluent in the German, Dutch, or French languages may be discouraged by the amount of material missed in the largely untranslated footnotes. These minor quibbles, however, should not be an obstacle to thorough enjoyment of an enormously beneficial book.

CONCLUSION

It is difficult to overstate the timeliness of the principles for which the stepchildren of the Reformation suffered, principles that leap from every page of Verduin’s excellent work. This is especially true for Christians in America. The biblical principles for which the Radical Reformers stood, principles that led to the contemptuous nicknames that headed each of these chapters, all struck at the heart of the monolithic society created by the Constantinian change. Such a society, bound together by a religion embraced by all of its members, had no room for the dissenter, and those whose conscience led them to different conclusions were either forced underground or set ablaze. The courage of the Anabaptists and their Radical brethren began the slow process of change to this ideal, culminating with the enshrinement in the United States Constitution of the ideal of what Verduin repeatedly calls a “composite society,” made up of many constituent parts, of which the church is but one. The constitution forbids the state from establishing any religion by its favor, and from inhibiting any individual from the exercise of his religion according to the dictates of his own conscience. In such a system, the church was free to be the church, to persuade men, and to carry out its work, simultaneously unaided by the coercive arm of the state and unmolested by it. Verduin devotes significant space in his postscript to contemporary dangers to America’s composite society. More space is given to the danger he sees in the potential of the ecumenical movement to establish an “American religion,” one “to which every right-thinking American would be expected to rally” (278) He rightly suggests this would lead to “a new sacralism” requiring a new “second front” rebellion. Considerably less space is given to Verduin’s concerns regarding secular pressure on the free exercise of religion, a danger that, nearly fifty years after his writing, looms substantially larger than the rise of any “American religion.” Contemporary American society is unlikely to codify as official the status of any religion rising out of ecumenism, no matter how unified. But in an age of state-controlled health care and other major industry, it takes no imagination whatever to see the danger posed to those whose convictions would forbid them to participate in whatever a secular government might insist is mandatory. In America today, the “free exercise” clause of the first amendment is under direct assault. Lessons learned from the stepchildren of the Reformation will serve well the convictional free churchman forced to navigate these disturbing waters.

Two ways. One is a demand answer; one is a supply answer.

The demand answer is simple. There are so many young, educated people who are struggling with ambition and isolation. They come out of a blue-collar background or a farm background and find themselves working in the jungle of Los Angeles or Cincinnati. They need something to offset that intensely competitive, high-pressure, high-stress environment. They need something that they may not be conscious of, but something that restores balance and sanity. They need community.

On the supply side, more and more churches are what I call “pastoral churches.” Their purpose is not to perpetuate a particular liturgy or maintain an existing institutional form. Instead, they’re asking what my business friends would call the marketing question: “Who are the customers, and what’s of value to them?” They’re more interested in the pastoral question (“What do these people need that we can supply?”) than in the theological nuances (“How can we preserve our distinctive doctrines?”).

These churches are growing partly because the younger people need pastoring and not just preaching, and partly because, very bluntly, people are dreadfully bored with theology. They can’t appreciate the subtleties. And I sympathize with them. I taught religion; I didn’t teach theology. I’ve always felt that quite clearly the good Lord loves diversity.

Of course, there is no mention of a “youth minister” in the Bible. But I know they exist, because I used to be one, and it is a curious relationship. Each of the four churches I served in this capacity insisted that I meet the biblical qualifications of an elder as laid out in the pastoral epistles, yet none of them viewed me as someone serving in the role of an elder. In fact, I’m convinced that some of them desired me to function more like Julie McCoy on “The Love Boat.”

My friends who come from a more Calvinistic perspective are insistent that a church be governed by a plurality of elders. The ones who are also good Baptists will substitute “led” for “governed.” But they certainly have a point to make biblically when it comes to the plural nature of the office. While there is biblical warrant for the idea of an individual elder leading a church, elders are most often referred to in the plural. But my conversation with my friend has me thinking that perhaps there is a healthier middle ground.

While it may already be implicit in larger congregations, I have found very few where those men serving on staff are explicitly recognized by the congregation as “elders” in the biblical sense. Indeed, it is much more common (and devastatingly unbiblical) for church members to view the deacons in that way, and to view these staff ministers simply as hired hands. As someone who was once fired without notice by a group of deacons (who then fired the pastor in similar, though slightly kinder, fashion), I know whereof I speak. But this post isn’t about deacons, it’s about elders.

What I’m suggesting is that churches ought to become much more intentional about viewing those on what is commonly called “the ministerial staff” as elders, and not simply as guys hired to lead worship/youth ministry/children’s ministry. This intentionality must begin with the writing of a job description, and continue through recruiting and calling someone to serve a congregation. The way people approach a “youth director” will be much different from the way they approach an elder to whom the church has given the responsibility for oversight of the youth ministry. The same holds true for the “song leader,” the “education director,” and so on. If a church approaches these roles with this kind of biblical seriousness, it seems to me that difficulties like the one my pastor friend face will become fewer and further between. Amazing how often that’s true when we seek greater faithfulness to what scripture teaches.

But this episode has caused me to think about the practice of VBS invitations, and I believe there is much more caution needed than there is caution exercised in our churches when it comes to this issue. I’m aware of a church not far from where I serve where the pastor did something rather disturbing last year. When it came to the time for an invitation to trust Christ to be extended, all the younger children were dismissed, leaving only children in grades 4-6 in the room. This is commendable, and this step would make it seem that this pastor was understanding of the need to avoid emotionalism, and that he was trying to avoid false conversions. But what happened next was startling.

With only the older children now present, he outlined the ABC’s of becoming a Christian, and if you’re a Southern Baptist involved in VBS, you can sing these to at least four or five different tunes, courtesy of the freakishly talented Jeff Slaughter. After his presentation, he told everyone present to bow their heads, close their eyes, and repeat after him as he led them in a “sinner’s prayer*.” When he was done, he said that all who had prayed that prayer (which he had just instructed them to pray) should come to the front, publicly professing their new-found faith in Christ.

The following Sunday, this pastor stood before his church and announced that every single child in grades 4-6 who attended their VBS had been saved that week. Many of them were presented to the church that Sunday or following Sundays as candidates for baptism, and most were subsequently baptized. But not all.

I heard this story from the parent of one girl in that group, who responded as directed to the VBS invitation, but later recognized that nothing had changed in her heart, and she was only responding because that’s what everyone in the room was told to do. Her family is very involved in the church, and they’re there almost every Sunday. So, the pastor came looking for her. He took her out of Sunday School, without her parent’s knowledge, and asked her why she hadn’t presented herself for baptism. As far as I know, the child has not yet been baptized.

There are many forms of spiritual abuse. Men who use their positions of ecclesial authority in order to subjugate or gain favors from women are despicable. Those who would use their power in order to keep wrongdoing from being brought to light will face the harsh judgment of their all-seeing Creator. But in terms of eternal consequences, I’d be hard pressed to identify much that is worse than gaining, by coercion of peer pressure or other manipulative tactics, a false profession of faith in Christ from a child. For my son, and the girl in the story above, the damage is minor, and temporary. I believe in the promises of God, and have confidence that these children are being trained up in the way they should go, and they’ll have full opportunity to hear, understand, and respond to the gospel. But for so many of the children who populate our VBS rolls each summer, this is the only contact they have with our churches, or any church. To offer assurance of salvation to someone who may never hear the truth again simply because they correctly repeated several sentences with their eyes closed may have consequences far greater than any other kind of spiritual abuse I can imagine, because those consequences may be eternal.

I love VBS. I love the way the Bible lessons and Jeff Slaughter’s music imprint truth from God’s Word upon young hearts. But we must be cautious. In our zeal to see children come to faith in Christ, we must make sure that it is the work of the Holy Spirit, and not the result of our own manipulation, that has done the converting. Only one of these actually has the power to bring new life.

_____________________________________

*I’m all for sinners praying, but I will never tell someone who wants to become a Christian what the content of that prayer ought to be. I’ll explain what the Bible says about how one is saved, and leave the wording up to the individual and the Holy Spirit.

Much of the break has been due to my studies at Liberty University. Twenty years ago, when I should have been pursuing my education, I was instead pursuing my dream of becoming a major league baseball umpire. Sadly, that didn’t work out as planned, but by the time it became clear that it wasn’t going to work out, life had intervened, and a college education seemed to me to be out of reach. It pretty much stayed out of reach, from my perspective, for the next decade.

Then my friend and SBC Today co-founder Joe Stewart told me about an organization called the Liberty Baptist Fellowship. Founded by Jerry Falwell in the early 1980′s, the group has two primary functions: to plant Baptist churches, and to certify chaplains to the armed forces of the United States. Only churches hold membership in this group, and one of the benefits had always been a tuition-free scholarship to Liberty University, either to study on campus or through their distance learning program. That scholarship benefit has tightened up considerably since Dr. Falwell’s death, but it still exists. When I began, the minimum contribution for a church the size of the one I serve was $25 per month, and this made a scholarship available for all full-time staff members. As of January 2011, the minimum contribution became $200 per month per scholarship, and the scholarships are limited in number. I understand that there is now a waiting list.

Even at that higher rate, discerning readers will recognize that this is still an absolute bargain, and I took full advantage. I began studies in the spring of 2008, and on May 14 of this year, I walked across the stage at the Tolsma Indoor Track Center to shake hands with Dr. Elmer Towns and to receive the degree of Bachelor of Science in Religion.*

I’m sure this won’t be the end of my educational journey. I recognize that in order to be fully effective in the role to which God has called me, pastor of a local church, I need yet more training. I’ve done some investigating of various seminary options, and look forward to beginning work on my M. Div. just as soon as I figure out where to begin it. In the mean time, I plan to return to regular posting here. I will continue to focus on issues of interest to Southern Baptists, or at least to this Southern Baptist. I will continue to write in advocacy of a robust ecclesiology, and against forces and ideas that would weaken our distinctives as Baptists. And I’ll look forward to opportunities for interaction with readers.

I had a couple of opportunities last week in Phoenix to reflect upon the beginning of my blogging in 2006. The issues we faced then are not the issues we face now, but in many ways they are similar. What I remember most fondly about those days is the relationships formed, some through heated exchanges in the comments sections of various blogs. Time and time again I was forced more deeply into the scriptures, and forced to be ever more careful in articulating what I learned there. I don’t imagine this new phase of blogging will be anything like that, so different is the landscape today from what existed five years ago. But I look forward to making my contribution.

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*Dr. Towns didn’t actually hand me my diploma, of course. It was a fundraising letter with a ribbon around it.

Dear Pastor,

I’m writing to ask you to consider putting a critical need before your people: the budget shortfall at the International Mission Board. The 2008 Lottie Moon Christmas Offering fell some $30 million short of the goal, and according to a friend who is a trustee, the immediate shortfall they’re facing stands at $13 million. SBC President Johnny Hunt has called on churches to celebrate “Christmas in August,” and Trinity Baptist in Valliant will be participating. I plan to preach mission-themed messages each Sunday of the month, I’m working on lining up a guest speaker from the IMB for one of those Sundays, and we’re even going to have Christmas dinner on August 30, the fifth Sunday of the month. We’re not planning to set a goal for this special offering; we’re simply emphasizing the need and trusting God to lead us in how we can contribute.

Will you consider leading your church to participate in this very special emphasis? Dr. Thomas White, Vice-President for Communications at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in Forth Worth, is leading an effort there to provide participating churches with materials to aid in its promotion. In addition to the logo you see on this page, there will be promotional videos and other materials available for use by churches. They’ve established a web page where these materials can be accessed: http://www.swbts.edu/christmasinaugust. If you don’t have internet access, or aren’t sure how to access these resources in a way that’s usable in your congregation, don’t hesitate to contact me and I’ll be glad to help.

This is the first time in the history of the International Mission Board that otherwise qualified missionaries could not be deployed to the field due to a lack of resources. Let’s join together in Frisco Baptist Association to contribute to the meeting of this need, so that no one else who has committed their lives to missionary service will have to be told that we don’t have the money to send them.
God bless,

Wes Kenney

This is a reposting of an essay I published at SBC Today.

When I was in college at John Brown University in the early 1990’s, I loved playing foosball. I played every day, at all hours. It’s possible that, had I not loved it so much, I might not now be working my way through Liberty University’s distance learning program, but I digress.

I was never a great player, mainly because I was never able to generate enough power without spinning the handle, and spinning, in real competitive foosball, is strictly verboten.  There was even a catchy saying in the foosball community at this private Christian college: “Hate the spin, but love the spinner.” It is much easier to slam the ball into the back of the goal when you spin, but the truly talented players can fire unbelievably powerful shots just by the action of their wrists. They don’t need to spin in order to be effective.

On April 20, USA Today published an essay by Jonathan Merritt. Merritt, 26, is a recent graduate of Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary, and according to the footnote of his essay, he works as a faith and culture writer. The article is titled “An Evangelical’s Plea: ‘Love the Sinner’,” and it is a call for Christians to reach out in love to the gays and lesbians around us, and to do so in tangible ways. This is a worthy point to make, and a call that all of us who name the name of Christ ought to heed. But in making the point, Merritt makes use of quite a lot of rhetorical “spin,” enough to make me want to dust off that old catch phrase I learned around the foosball tables at JBU.

Some of this “spin” can be found in his opening paragraphs, where he provides examples of quotes that he has mined from the internet in an attempt to demonstrate that evangelicals prefer to display their hatred for sin. To characterize the late Dr. D. James Kennedy as a “fundamentalist televangelist” can only serve to inflame and prejudice USA Today readers, who may be unfamiliar with his life and ministry, against anything he might have said. Some of the statements he quotes are indefensible, but some, given their proper context, might be entirely appropriate. His quote-mining “spin” can only serve to confuse the issue and it paints with too broad a brush.

Another example of “spin” being employed by Mr. Merritt is in his use of statistics. He cites a Barna Research Group study which found that 80% of non-Christians ages 16-29 describe Christians as “confusing” on this issue. He then suggests that this is perhaps because “many recognize the difference between the life of Jesus Christ and the lives of those who claim to follow him.” This is quite a leap, and I can’t imagine what it is intended to suggest, if not that we ought to look to the opinions of the young non-Christians around us rather than to the scriptures when evaluating our degree of faithfulness to Christ.

But perhaps most disturbing in Merritt’s essay is his seeming willingness to compromise biblical definitions of sin and salvation. In discussing the marriage debate, he rightly states, “our biblical convictions prohibit a redefinition of marriage.” But he then goes on to suggest “other areas” where we might be able to compromise, such as offering support for anti-discrimination measures in the workplace and in reducing legal impediments to inheritance and hospital visitation rights for same-sex couples.

Let me be clear: I do not believe that it is a sin to be tempted by homosexual desires. I am convinced, however, because the Bible is very clear, that homosexual behavior is sinful. I will leave to others the debate over whether it is a chosen lifestyle or an inborn reality. That debate makes not one bit of difference to me. What scripture condemns is homosexual behavior.

Having said that, I am curious as to whether there are any other sins Mr. Merritt would be in favor of legislating in order to make their commission more acceptable in our society. It sounds very compassionate to advocate for these rights; it might even make one feel as if they are “showing love” to gays and lesbians in a way that is “concrete and tangible.” But what it is, in fact, is simply more terribly naïve “spin.”

The person who is enslaved to the sin of homosexuality does not need Christians to express love to them by making their sin easier to commit. Rather, they need Christians who will love them enough to come alongside them and show them their desperate need for a relationship with the One who can forgive them and restore them to a right relationship with their Creator.

I am convinced, however, that Mr. Merritt’s most egregious spin is contained in a paragraph in which he discusses marriage.  It contains concepts that are, I believe, harmful to the Gospel itself. Merritt states:

“God’s model is a lifelong, monogamous, heterosexual union, but we must balance this message with the scriptural understanding that we are all sinners. Individuals who have decided to follow Christ have not ceased to be sinners; we are simply sinners who have taken advantage of God’s gracious gift of salvation.”

This paragraph only tells part of the Gospel story, and the part it leaves out is absolutely essential to this discussion. In John’s first epistle, he writes, “No one born of God makes a practice of sinning, for God’s seed abides in him, and he cannot keep on sinning because he has been born of God.” (1 John 3:9 ESV)

Merritt’s presentation of “God’s gracious gift of salvation” in the paragraph quoted above makes it sound as though a sinner can hold to Christ while simultaneously holding to a habitual sin. This is not only false, but it is dangerously misleading, and offers false hope to those who wish to believe that their anti-biblical lifestyle can somehow be compatible with saving faith. God’s Word is clear: It cannot.

Mr. Merritt has many good points to make. And I have no doubt he possess the necessary intellect and skill with the language in order to be effective in making them. In this essay, however, it seems that he has relied more upon spin, a spin with potentially dangerous consequences.

Yes, I believe the phrase I learned during my misspent youth in Northwest Arkansas applies here. As Jonathan Merritt is my brother in Christ, I love the “spinner” who wrote this article. I’m just not terribly fond of his “spin.”