The Intimidation Factor. Charles Redfern

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СКАЧАТЬ They fear infiltrating theological liberalism, which left much of the Bible on the cutting room floor in its 19th-century heyday. They’d sanctify linear thinking, jettison almost all emotion, and relegate charismatics and Pentecostals to suspect status. I fear they’ve misdiagnosed the disease and now patrol a fortress-like doctrinal perimeter, often mistaking potential allies as opponents. They’ve nurtured intimidation.

      Others—from Brian McLaren to Rob Bell to the late Rachel Held Evans to John Pavlovich to Frank Schaeffer—have decreed the opposite verdict. They’ve thrown out the label and the back-to-the-Bible theology it once described. They were often reared in fundamentalism, mistook it for evangelicalism, and now gather in social media flocks of embittered ex-evangelicals. I understand the resentment. I’ve felt it. I got mauled myself. But hear my plea: Please remember that hackneyed but truthful phrase, “Hurting people hurt people,” often in the name of open-mindedness and dialogue.

Still others have struck closer to the mark. So-called progressive evangelicals have rightly criticized the movement’s disastrous marriage to the political right. I applaud them and their alliance with the marginalized and the poor. I’ve gladly brandished the progressive evangelical badge and continue to write against that unholy alliance, which I distinguish from honest and compassionate political conservatism. But I’ve recently grown concerned: Sympathy for the marginalized—and, perhaps, a quest for left-wing validation—drives some to abandon the biblical view of marriage (a lifelong heterosexual union and the exclusive province for sex). Like them, I’ve befriended many gays and lesbians, including relatives. Like them, I find their stories compelling. Like them, I realize that many of our bromides fail to help. But, after all is said and done, we cannot cite the Bible as authoritative on social justice and dismiss it on marriage. We must beware “package-deal ethics,” a trap discovered by British ethicist James Mumford: political loyalties subvert moral decision-making.2

      I’ve come to see a more insidious malady lurking beneath the surface, of which political partisanship is a serious symptom. I see it as threats replace genuine debate and as innocents are branded heretical. Fact is, an ugly culture of intimidation has overthrown grace. I only discovered it after I was hurt and after I walked through my consequent anger. I then looked back on my own story and saw how evangelicalism devolved.

      I mull over the takeover in three parts after I describe my saga (I came to Christ in the early ‘70’s through a loving church but, eventually, got bruised). In Part One, I probe the anatomy of intimidation in three arenas. There’s climate change, where deniers level heresy charges at anyone embracing the scientific consensus—even though no historic creed is at stake. There’s the New Apostolic Reformation among Pentecostals and charismatic Christians, an evangelical subset: Self-proclaimed “apostles” and “prophets” issue purported divinely-inspired fiats, rendering disagreement impossible lest we risk God’s wrath. And there’s white American evangelicalism’s 2016 Trump alliance.

      A consistent theme emerges: Threats replace genuine discussion and debate, with conflict-adverse moderate evangelicals yielding all the way.

      But why did intimidation take hold? That’s where Part Two comes in. I trace bullying’s seeds back to the mid-twentieth-century evangelical resurgence, when leaders such as Harold Ockenga, Carl Henry, and Billy Graham shelved the “fundamentalist” brand and called themselves neo-evangelicals (the “neo” was soon dropped). They were intelligent, gracious, and admirable. They encouraged cultural engagement and promoted the life of the mind. But, unfortunately, they never fully divorced themselves from fundamentalism and they embraced the 19th-century Princeton theologians, who led just one of evangelicalism’s clans. The Princetonians encouraged creedal and biblical faithfulness along with intellectual rigor, and they sought to be fair to those with whom they disagreed. We can commend them and learn from them, but we must also beware their flaws: They sifted all teaching through a peculiarly dry, cerebral Calvinistic sieve that didn’t do justice to Reformed theology’s breadth (John Calvin is a monumental contributor to the Reformed school, but not the only one). An especially scowling brand of Calvinism lodged in Westminster Theological Seminary’s Cornelius Van Til (1895–1987), who often misunderstood his perceived opponents and tarred their reputations. Many later evangelical academics sat in his classroom and melted before his confidence and decisiveness, which set the stage for a neo-fundamentalist come-back in the late ‘70’s. Even respected scholars blow down straw men and misrepresent those they deem opponents, who are really allies with minor disagreements. It’s a grim story, soaked in power’s allure.

      Yet another chapter on moderate evangelicals brings more gloom: Their conflict avoidance—in the guise of “peacemaking”—enabled the bullies.

      But there’s hope, the theme of Part Three. Tim Keller flourishes a kinder, richer brand of Calvinism for his clan and from which others can learn; Ed Brown campaigns for the environment as he leads a world-wide network of Creation Care advocates; the Vineyard Church of Evanston, Illinois, exemplifies the Association of Vineyard Churches’ quest for multi-ethnicity and holistic Christianity. A chapter describes each ministry.

      To steal and remold a phrase from Bill Clinton’s first inaugural address: “There’s nothing wrong with evangelical Christianity that cannot be cured with what is right with evangelical Christianity.” Perhaps the word “evangelical” should be shelved for the time being, but a remnant is preserving the tradition’s compelling thought.

      Thus this critical book ends in buoyancy as it pinpoints a solution: Evangelicalism’s dilemma does not lie with grumbling ex-evangelicals or trendy new theologies—which are not that new—but in returning to the Scriptures its intellects once promulgated. The back-to-the-Bible people can run back to the Bible as they rediscover intimacy with God and fellowship with like-minded Christians. Counter-cultural action will flow.

      The usual neo-fundamentalist reply to any criticism is ad-hominem attack, often questioning the writer’s doctrine. My response: Here is my personal statement of faith. I’m a Bible-thumping holy roller.

      Of God and the Holy Trinity

      I believe that there is one living and true God, infinite and perfect, the eternal ruler and sustainer of the universe. God is the fountain of all existence and is unchangeable, perfect in holiness, wisdom, goodness, justice, power and love. God has all life, glory, goodness and blessedness in and of Himself, and is all-sufficient in and of Himself, not needing any of the creatures He has made. God exists from all eternity as one being in three persons of one substance, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, equal in power and glory.

      I believe that God’s kingdom lasts forever. God is omnipresent (He is everywhere) and omniscient (He knows everything). Nevertheless, God is distinct from His own creation. He upholds and governs all that exists, including Heaven, the angels, and the material universe. God made everything good.

      Of Satan and his kingdom

      I believe that a mighty angel who eventually became known as Satan rallied a rebellion in Heaven in an attempt to usurp God. God cast Satan and his angels (whom we call demons) onto the Earth, where they established an evil counterfeit kingdom, where intimidation, duplicity, hatred, malice, selfish ambition, discord and rage are the norm. While Satan and his minions are powerful, their strength pales when compared with God’s. Their doomed kingdom is being dispatched as Christ’s kingdom spreads, and will be destroyed when Christ comes again.

      Of humanity

      I believe that God created humanity male and female in his own image, to glorify God, to enjoy God in a loving, eternal relationship, and to serve as God’s delegate in stewarding the Earth. Humanity is the zenith of God’s creation. Satan successfully tempted our first parents and they rebelled against God, bringing sin, sickness and the judgment of death onto the Earth. All of creation now suffers the consequences of this original sin: Instead of being born in a state of innocence prone to good СКАЧАТЬ