Category / Evangelical

by Griffin Gulledge

“You Are Wrong, Brother”: On Disagreeing Better as Christians

The Spanish Inquisition has nothing on the current Evangelical online world when it comes to heresy trials. Though, unlike the Spanish Inquisition, you expect it. There was a time where theologians emphasized that the Christian life was lived coram Deo. Now, however, the work of theology possesses the gravity of a work done coram Mob. Theologians, pastors, and laypeople alike must guard themselves ever so closely, lest any small statement they make about God be the evidence against them in the next twitter tribunal. Facebook knows no mercy.

The church, it seems, is nothing but heretics. The Calvinists are heretics for their views on predestination. The Arminians are heretics for their man-centeredness. The revivalists are heretics for creating false converts. The Baptists are heretics for being Baptist. Some Reformed teachers are heretics for their Federal Vision theology, while others have become heretics for their sacramentalism. Whatever followers of N.T. Wright are called, they are heretics for reasons so multitudinous they can not be recounted here. The Anglicans are heretics for their sacerdotalism and the Methodists are heretics for refusing to separate from the liberals. The Charismatics are heretics for speaking in tongues, and the churches with an American flag in their sanctuary have abandoned the faith for Christian Nationalism. If you are concerned about matters of social justice–your heretical capitulation to the social gospel is easily documented. If you’re concerned about the excesses of social justice, then your’e probably a racist or a bigot. The egalitarians are heretics for compromising the Bible, and the complementarians are oppressors.

The one true church, thankfully, is still healthy and very much alive. It is composed of you, and me, and those who agree with us. God must be relieved to have us.

Obviously, the last two paragraphs were written fully tongue in cheek. With very little time, however, I believe I could identify accusations of heresy, compromise of doctrine or the gospel itself, or some other extreme allegation against dissenters from whatever preferred view in no time at all. I have managed social media accounts for two major Christian organizations and something stands out: the comment sections are a total, unmitigated disaster. No matter how many people I block or ban, toxicity oozes from the comment sections like stink from a sewer. Christian blog and YouTube comments make the TMZ comment section look tame. We hate each other, and ask you to subscribe to our Patreon if you hate the same people that we do. Entire networks are formed solely to oppose people we otherwise agree with 98% of the time. The comments would make more sense often if the reader imagine they were full of curse words. At least then the vocabulary would match the tone.

An Inheritance of Insults

It is past time that we began to do better. It is past time that we stop disgracing ourselves online. It is past time that we learned how to disagree while maintaining fellowship. If we are going to learn to disagree better, we have to acknowledge that the history of the Christian church has deeded us an inheritance of insults. We should refuse to carry forward that legacy.

If we are going to learn to disagree better, we have to acknowledge that the history of the Christian church has deeded us an inheritance of insults. We should refuse to carry forward that legacy.

This problem is not unique to us. Examples are easy to find. Jerome became so angry with Rufinus in a theological spat that the refused to refer to him by any name other than Grunnius Corocotta Porcellius. For those who don’t speak Latin, that translates roughly to “Porky the Grunter.” Research has not yet yielded answers as to whether he insulted his mother, too. St. Nicholas is rumored to have punched Arius (though the tale is widely disputed, it is also widely regaled). Martin Luther’s insults were so legendary, there is now an entire website devoted to them. We hear these stories, and we laugh. They’re common jokes around seminaries and churches.

I can’t help but think of the Apostle Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 5:2. He says, “And you are arrogant! Ought you not rather to mourn?” Of course, Paul’s context and the issue at hand was far different. But shouldn’t we? To state the obvious, Martin Luther was sinning when he spoke in such ways. Why do we talk about his foul language as if its a badge of honor, or wish we could talk like that if people weren’t so sensitive these days? Needless to say, naming a rival theologian Porky the Grunter in public debate hardly meets the standard of loving your enemies.

Are we not called to something better?

Why do we talk about Martin Luther’s foul language towards his opponents as if its a badge of honor, or wish we could talk like that if people weren’t so sensitive these days?

Learning to Disagree Better

It is time that Christians of all stripes learned to disagree better. There are countless ways to do this, but for the sake of this post I want to suggest we learn just one phrase. If we can internalize this phrase, what it means and what it doesn’t mean, it will make a radical difference for how we engage other Christians with who we disagree. The phrase is this:

“You are wrong, brother.”

Alternatively, “brother” can be exchanged for “sister”.

The threat of heresy is genuine and it does occur in the church. There are men and women who subvert the gospel itself: denying the bodily resurrection, teaching that we can save ourselves, proclaiming the gospel secures worldly riches instead of eternal salvation, or teaching against the Trinity, among other things. There are those who revive old heresies. Some false teachers are easy to identify and should be warned against. But others are simply wrong.

We must learn to differentiate between a malicious false teacher and someone with whom we have a serious disagreement.

Solely because you feel strongly about a particular second or third tier doctrine does not elevate its status of importance. I get it: I have strong opinions, and therefore some strong disagreements. I think John MacArthur’s dispensationalism is novel, lacking evidence, and leads to bad biblical interpretation. That does not make him a false teacher. I am grateful for countless charismatic men and women, and I also have countless disagreements with them on spiritual gifts. I love Presbyterians, I just hate that so few of them are actually baptized. Apologetics folks who love Van Til, just….no. I think the Purpose-Driven model drives you into a ditch. Pastors in my denomination talk about revival like it’s a lawnmower engine that just needs more gas and it drives me nuts. But, each of them in turn can be dead wrong without me either a) being a jerk about it or b) believing that my passion on a subject can make it a first tier issue worthy of separation. These brothers, and these sisters, are wrong. But I am not compelled to destroy them or call them heretics on the basis of our secondary disagreements.

When we learn to say, “You are wrong, brother,” we acknowledge our disagreement for what they are while affirming our love for our opponents that is grounded in the brotherhood and sisterhood we have in Christ. Because they are a brother, or a sister, we owe them a measure of respect and love in our engagements. By recognizing them as a brother or sister, we have a common ground: one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of us all (Eph 4:5). Our union with Christ is greater than our theological opinions or missiological convictions. At the same time, we do recognize our conviction that they are wrong on the matter at hand. Or, at least I think they are—sometimes with great conviction. There is no reason for us to pretend we do not have differences, or pretend that those differences don’t matter! But our certitude about our union in Christ should outweigh and surpass our certitude that we have the final say in the debate.

Our differences matter. But affection does not require agreement.

Christians so often decry cancel culture, but it’s hard to understand why sometimes. When it comes to theological disagreement, Christians have perfected the art of the cancel. We speak it fluently. It has become our mother tongue. Internet trolls could learn a thing or two about online mobs by reading the comments of popular Christian blog ministries. The KGB could take notes on sowing division by monitoring Evangelical internet behavior. The church debated for centuries to establish orthodoxies in the ecumenical councils. Now, we label pastors, preachers, and people we don’t like as heretics after reading a single blog post.

Our differences matter. But affection does not require agreement.

Brothers and sister, things cannot continue this way. Our love for one another must surpass our disagreement with one another. Our desire for truth must be matched by our commitment to the foundational truth that we are united together in Christ. Our zeal for the gospel cannot create a standard of fellowship that is “the gospel + all of my secondary theological, political, and cultural beliefs.”

Jesus said we would be know for our love. Frankly, we ain’t.

If we are going to, we must learn to love one another: online, in disagreements, and in different denominations. Otherwise, what right do we have to talk about a gospel of grace that breaks down the wall of hostility between us?

You may be wrong, brother, but I still should love you. I’m going to try to do better.

by Griffin Gulledge

You can’t have Nicene conclusions without Nicene methodology

Last night on twitter, I posted the following pair of tweets about Nicaea. This topic requires more space than Twitter can provide, so I want to try and build them out here.

Khaled Anatolios, in his book Retrieving Nicaea (future page numbers refer to this work), models this hermeneutic and doctrinal foundation. I want to use just a bit of his work to give some insight into what that looks like and what it might mean for doing theology.

Anatolios says that for the church fathers, and for Athanasius in particular, patterns of scriptural divine naming must correspond to the pattern of divine being. For Athanasius, divine names were paradeigmata, symbols by which to understand God’s uncreated being. By arguing from divine naming, Athanasius is demonstrating “a correlation between, on the one hand, the scriptural intertextuality involved in the naming of God and Christ and, on the other hand, the ontological correlativity of Father and Son” (111). In other words: hermeneutics, then theology.

The argument from divine naming goes like this:
A. Certain phrases and title are ascribed to God such as speaker of the Word, possessor of Wisdom, one who brings Light, etc.
B. These same terms and titles are applied to Christ. Chris is the logos, the Word from the beginning. Christ is Wisdom. Christ is the true Light, etc.
C. God is the one to whom these attributes are titles are inherent to his being.

For Athansius, this argument is crucial to force back the Arians, who said that ‘there was a time when the Son was not.” Because of divine names, it denigrates the essence of the Father to say there there was a time when he was without Wisdom, Word, Light, etc. (115). To deny that the Son is the Word is to deny that God is the Creator. If the Son is external to God, then Creation through the Son1 means that God may have willed creation, but the act itself is external to him. Likewise, when Scripture gives any divine title to Jesus, such as Wisdom, then “anything predicated of Wisdom anywhere in Scripture is predicated of Christ” (122). Intertextual reading is essential to maintaining a) Christ’s shared divinity with the Father and b) God as Creator.

So what does this have to do with the tweets? What you see here from Athanasius (recounted by Anatolios) is a thoroughgoing Trinitarian hermeneutic that reads Scripture through the lens of God’s being and actions as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The guardrail is a distinction between divine attributes ascribed to the Father and thereby shared with the Son, and those actions with are proper to Jesus in his incarnation. So Christ as Wisdom has divinity as its referent, but Jesus being tired after a long day does not compromise the almightiness of God.

It is often said that Scripture interprets Scripture, but what does that mean? For Athanasius, intertextuality also comes with a core commitment that the telos (the purpose) of the Scripture is the revelation of God. This is not merely what he has done in securing our salvation, but also who he is. Who God is revealed to be in Scripture will then inform our understanding of what he has done. When we read intertextually, we are reading in such a manner that we connect related language from different parts of Scripture intentionally revealing who God is attributionally, and thereby who God is as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. This is the intentional pattern of the New Testament authors, who identify the Son using the divine names of the God of Israel to show that the two share in the same nature, though distinct persons.

There are those in modern Evangelical theology who advocate a rigidly biblicist approach to theology that is more concerned with prooftexts than this kind of Trinitarian theological method. Biblical reasoning takes a backseat to linguistic, ANE context, and talk of authorial intent (with nearly all of the emphasis on the human author). These things are not unimportant, but if divorced from the trinitarian reading enumerated earlier, this method is utterly inconsistent with that which produced Nicene orthodoxy. Alexander said this about the Arians:

“Recalling all the words about the salvific suffering, humiliation, self-emptying, poverty, and other attributes that the Savior took on for our sake, they pile these up to impugn the supreme deity that was his from the start.”

“Piling up” is not a substitute for the Trinitarian theological method that produced Nicaea. Now, I am not inferring that these contemporary theologians are Arians3. Far from it. But I am saying that we all would do well not to imitate their method and call it “biblical”. Refusing to acknowledge a doctrine due to an insufficient pile of prooftexts is not the way to do theology. Rather, we should ask ourselves if our theological method is capable of producing Nicaea in such a manner that it is not given to the objections of the literalist Arians, nor insufficient to the task of grounding Nicene orthodoxy both hermeneutically and doctrinally in the way of the church fathers.

Nicaea was not ultimately a set of doctrines to check the box on before rejecting its foundations, implications, and related doctrines. Nicaea is founded upon Trinitarian hermeneutics and trinitarian doctrines. Were Nicaea a house, the eternal generation of the Son would be considered a load-bearing wall. If you remove it, the house falls. It is important then, if we are to be consistently and thoroughly Nicene2, to have a consistent hermeneutic and a consistent doctrinal foundation with those who produced it.

When it comes to the importance of Nicene methodology, a little wisdom from the American South may help: “Dance with the one who brought you.”

__________________________

1. Colossians 1:16
2. Which I’m assuming here is something we would like to be.
3. Who complained the homoousios should be rejected as unbiblical since the term couldn’t be found in Scripture.

by Griffin Gulledge

Blessed Are The Nobodies

[Caveat: I promise I’m not trying to make this blog about Mark Driscoll. Though I have also written about him here.]

A friend recently pointed me to the all-too-soon created website MarkDriscoll.org. At one time, Mark was influential in my life and fed me the truth of the Bible on a semi-regular basis through writings, podcasts, etc. After watching his downfall (resigning the church he founded, removed from Acts 29 Membership, publicly scorned for his abuses, exposed for crudeness in online interaction, plagiarism charges, and on and on), I was all at once surprised, appalled, and interested to see that he was starting up once more.

Pastor Mark, as his website describes him, is something of an enigma to me. Do men without pulpits call themselves pastor? Isn’t a time of retreat in order? Why start a new website now when the public eye has only recently been against you?

At the very least, it’s bad timing.

His website’s About page reads:

Pastor Mark Driscoll is a Jesus-following, mission-leading, church-serving, people-loving, Bible-preaching pastor. In 2010, Preaching magazine named him one of the 25 most influential pastors of the past 25 years. He’s grateful to be a nobody trying to tell everybody about Somebody.

Pastor Mark is the author of many books, has written for CNN, Fox News, and The Washington Post, and has been featured as a columnist for The Seattle Times.

With a skillful mix of bold presentation, accessible teaching, and unrelenting compassion for those who are hurting the most—particularly women who are victims of sexual and physical abuse and assault—Pastor Mark has taken biblical Christianity into cultural corners rarely explored by evangelicals. He has been grilled by Whoopi Goldberg and Barbara Walters on The View, gone head-to-head with Piers Morgan on CNN, debated the existence of evil with Deepak Chopra on ABC’s Nightline, bantered with the gang on Fox and Friends, and explained biblical sexuality on Loveline with Dr. Drew.

The page goes on to describe his accomplishments at Mars Hill Church, which is dissolving this upcoming week, and Acts 29, which removed him from membership for unrepentant sin. Needless, to say, that’s troublesome.

I remember when I first listened to Mark in 2008. I remember hearing him say that line for the first time (though I’m sure he didn’t come up with it):

I’m just a nobody trying to tell everybody about Somebody.

That’s all I wanted. Someone who would put themselves to the side and show me Christ.

It was the plagiarism, the power-hungry ministry structure, and the manipulation of best-seller lists that started the downfall of Mark Driscoll at Mars Hill Church. It seems to me that what follows the “just a nobody…” line in his new website’s About page is very telling.

I don’t know when, and I don’t know why it happened. What’s obvious, however, just reading through this page is that it did happen.

At some point Mark Driscoll become a Somebody trying to tell Everybody about Somebody. The problem is that when you have two Somebodies, the two tend to get confused. When the two get confused, glory can wrongly be given to the wrong Somebody.

In the current Evangelical celebrity culture, it’s really easy to get caught up in the dream of becoming Somebody. Of becoming a Voice. Of masses of Twitter followers. Of viral articles. Of sermon jams and sermon highlight clips. It can be easy to take the attitude that the greater we are for Jesus, the greater Jesus is glorified.

John the Baptist knew better when he said, “He must increase. I must decrease.”

Paul knew better when he said, “If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness.”

We must learn to know better than to say we will become greater for his sake. He doesn’t need us. He doesn’t need our impressive About Me sections. God lacks nothing.

Let us take heed, lest we also fall and think that it’s better that a Somebody tell Everybody, than a Nobody. If all goes well, it will be the name of Jesus upon us, not our own name. We will be nobodies, so that nobodies like us will know that Somebody cares about Everybody.

Blessed are the nobodies.

by Griffin Gulledge

Mark Driscoll and the Internet’s Omniscience: A Lesson For Us All

driscoll-2

Mark Driscoll is not having a good year. This past week news broke that 14 years ago, Mark Driscoll had posted regularly to a Mars Hill Church online forum under the moniker “William Wallace II” to troll his own church members. This wasn’t the “forever alone meme” style of trolling; instead it was full of coarse language and hateful speech I’m not comfortable reposting here. Of course this news took the Christian blogosphere, twittersphere, and at least three other spheres by storm. Driscoll is no stranger to controversy. This year alone he was busted for plagiarism, deceitful marketing of his book “Real Marriage”, and imposed a hiatus on himself from social media. There are entire websites dedicated to recounting stories of alleged spiritual abuse by Mark Driscoll, with stories from even those who were his closest friends. There are other sites and social media groups dedicated to the so-called harmful environment of Mars Hill, which generally place the blame for such an environment squarely on Driscoll.

The Slow Falldriscoll

Driscoll rose to fame through the emergent church movement at the beginning of the era of Evangelical blogging. During this time, Driscoll gained a reputation as the “cussing pastor”, with a glimmer of this on display is his famous YouTube sermon clip where he yells to immature men in the audience, “Who the hell do you think you are?!” From there he berates the men for the rest of the clip. After teaching through Song  of Solomon in a manner that was a tad crass, Evangelical leader and Grace Community Church Pastor John MacArthur wrote that Driscoll was not qualified for the office of pastor. That’s not to mention controversy surrounding Driscoll following the Elephant Room event, his hard-line stance on things like video games and the movie Avatar, as well as him claims to prophetic (occasionally sexually graphic) visions and gifts of knowledge. About two years ago, Driscoll departed from the neo-Reformed tribe he had been a part of in lieu of a tribe more like him: influential, non-denominational multi-site mega-pastors such as James MacDonald, Perry Noble, and the like.

Recently, multiple pastors and staffers at Driscoll’s Mars Hill have left, some of who have written lengthy ‘insider’s view’ pieces that are less than complimentary of Driscoll’s leadership style and character. All of this has culminated this week in the removal of Driscoll and Mars Hill Church from the Acts 29 Network, which he co-founded, and the Acts 29 board of directors requesting Driscoll resign his ministry for a time. The list of Driscoll’s offenses and failures go on and on, easily accessible by a simple Google search.

Most of these occasions, with exception of the Elephant Room, was followed by an apology by Driscoll. I agree with Jonathan Merritt, who wrote earlier this week that the radical grace of Christ compels us to grant forgiveness when asked for it. The scandal of the cross and the teachings of Christ is such that when someone asks for forgiveness, we are not allowed the prerogative of judging their motives. We are simply required to forgive and to love.

Still, I think there is something we can learn from the fiasco that has been Mark Driscoll’s ‘tenure of influence’. He has, unfortunately for him, become an example for all pastors regardless of their church size or influence.

Well Thought of By Outsiders

The apostle Paul’s words in 1 Timothy 3 are often quoted in discussions about pastors who have failed in the public eye. When it comes to Driscoll, verse 7 is particularly germane. It reads, “Moreover, he must be well thought of by outsiders, so that he may not fall into disgrace, into a snare of the devil.” Because of the reality of indwelling sin in the believer, we need to realize that every pastor is going to fall short in various ways. Every pastor sins. To pretend that pastors are in some special category of über-righteousness is foolish. They will never be perfect. Still, there is a requirement for elders and pastors, beyond simple striving, that they should be Christ-like.

They should be so Christlike, the text says, that even though we ought to beware “when all men speak well of us” (Luke 6:26), we should still be well thought of by outsiders generally. Wendy Alsup wisely notes that, “If a man is not esteemed outside of his congregation at some level, outside of the Body of Christ at some level, he should not hold the office of elder.” This is not a commentary on someone’s salvation, so much as it is a comment on qualification. God may have qualified us to share in the inheritance of the saints in light (Col 1:12) without our being qualified to pastor. There is a terrifying warning that remains: disgrace is the snare of the devil. Not all men escape such snares.

Not long ago, it wasn’t that difficult to be well thought of by outsiders. Pastors with a long, private history of infidelity or insincerity were formerly exposed to the shock and chagrin of their followers. How could no one see this coming? Were there any indicators? In the era of the internet, a façade of public holiness with a private life marked by sin is not longer a possibility.

The Internet Never Forgetsclear-history

As a millennial, the ever-present reality of the internet’s permanence is a burden that can not be ignored. Every tweet. Every Facebook post. Every blog post. Every online insult. Every trolling comment. Every picture. It’s still there. Posts that have long since been deleted, sites that are now defunct, browsing histories that seem to have vanished have not truly been deleted, disappeared, or erased from possible discovery. The internet is forever. Mark Driscoll is learning that lately. How many more of us will learn that same lesson, especially those of us who have hardly ever lived without a large online footprint. For some, there are or will be those who desire to discover those online missteps and sinful wanderings. Where have you been?

It’s scary to think that someone could expose my every misstep online. I’ve been using the internet almost my entire life. I have never really known a world without it. It’s sickening to think my high school decisions are discoverable. It’s easy to long for the days where I could hide. It’s easy to lament the loss of a day when privacy was a reality.

God Sees More Than Search History

It’s harder to realize that those days of hiding secret sins never really existed. The internet is the closest we have come to a tangible omniscient thing in our lives. It’s not that the internet knows all— this isn’t a God-like omniscience. This is a pagan omniscience that can see your every keystroke and recover evidence of failures. It makes ads based on your browsing history (Anyone else glad Puritan Hard Drive has stopped stalking them?). For those with the will and desire to make it so, it can be the tool to your downfall. Could Driscoll have known 14 years ago that someone could easily find his lewd, vitriolic rants that were seemingly anonymous and bring them to the fore? Surely not.

The greatest reality of it all, however, is that there is and always has been an omniscience far beyond the internet. The all-seeing eye of God knows perfectly not only the keystroke of the finger, but the desires of the heart. He knows the thoughts, cruel and careless, and judges them fairly. In Matthew 12:36, the Scripture tells us that we will be judged on the day of judgment for “every careless word”. Nothing escapes his sight. No foul thought goes unnoticed. No sin goes unpunished.

It would be easy for Mark Driscoll to simply wish that these words had never been discovered. It would be easy for us all, likewise, to simply hope that our failings and foul hearts will simply go unnoticed and outsiders will think well of us based on the façade we’ve created. But we shouldn’t wish this. Instead, we should bring darkness to light. When the apostles tells us to, “take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them,” (Eph. 5:11) that includes our own unfruitfulness. Darkness is not expelled when it is contained. Darkness dies by the power of the light. Repentance for Driscoll, indeed for all of us, is not to hope that we are never discovered, but to wish our sins never were. It is to agree with God about our failure, and utterly forsake them.

All the same, we must realize that the God who remembers every sin is the God who, “while we were still sinners”, died for us. As we strive to live lives worthy of the gospel of Jesus, we should act honorably and morally not out of fear that someone may see but as those who know that God sees all. Fear of the Lord should accompany our every keystroke. For many of us, our Twitter archive, Facebook timeline, or Google history exists as a tangible sign of our certain condemnation apart from Christ. In Christ, all is forgiven. The reality of our sure salvation, however, should drive us away from the snare of the devil and the disgrace that is only a click away. Instead, we ought to ask forgiveness where needed. We should bear fruits in keeping with repentance, treating those around us with charity, respect, and the kindness and love of Christ. We don’t do this to avoid the shame of possible exposure at the hands of the internet. We do this because Christ bore our shame. In the fear of the Lord, tweet.