Category: Reformed Theology

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Why I am Reformed!

Dear Friend,

You inquired so honestly about why I am committed to a Reformed vision of life that I feel compelled to at least give you a brief overview. I should note that Reformational theology offers various perspectives and emphases that may differ continentally and confessionally. However, I offer somewhat of a harmonious account that would make the Dutch, Scottish, and Puritan traditions relatively satisfied.

First, it’s important to note that I am Reformed in the catholic sense. By “catholic,” I mean in the sense that I have high regard for other traditions. While I am committed to many features of the 16th Century Protestant Reformation (see below), I am in no way committed to abiding by every exegetical insight that sprung from that era. However, when I do disagree with my forefathers, I don’t do it flippantly but with tremendous respect and caution. They were so loyal to the Scriptures that when I disagree with their interpretation, I do it with as much humility as possible.

Second, I am compelled by the Reformed faith because it exalts God to a place of highest honor. As Calvin notes: “The world was no doubt made, that it might be a theatre of the divine glory.” Of course, other traditions exalt God, but the Reformed faith places God as the center of all thinking, living, doing, and abiding. In a culture so heavily invested in the wants and desires of men, the Reformed tradition places the glory of God above all earthly glories.

Third, and perhaps one of the central aspects that drew me to the theology of Calvin, Luther, and Bucer was their immense love for the Holy Bible. The Bible was, for them, the central and primary authority over all matters of faith and practice. Instead of relying on methods that excuse or draw us away from the text, the Reformed faith is unapologetically biblical. God is, and therefore everything flows from that presupposition.

Fourth, and I owe this largely to Martin Luther, but what draws me more and more every day to the Reformed faith is its principle that when you sing you pray twice (Augustine). Luther believed that the congregation needed to be committed to singing God’s words and sound theology. I still recall my first experience in a Reformed church and singing:

His kingdom cannot fail;

He rules o’er earth and heav’n.

The keys of death and hell

To Christ the Lord are giv’n.

For the Reformed, the congregation is the choir.

Finally, I am Reformed because of Abraham Kuyper’s mission to apply the Christian faith to every sphere of life. He once wrote: “There is not a square inch in the whole domain of our human existence over which Christ, who is Sovereign over all, does not cry, Mine!” For the Reformed, to be a Christian is not just a state of being but a verb. A Christian christianizes. He brings the joys of heaven to everything he touches on earth.

If I had more time, I’d talk about how the Reformation renewed a true vision of the Church, but I think my outline above should suffice. Again, thanks for your question, and I look forward to your feedback.

Yours Truly,

Pastor Brito

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The Danger of Theology

Dear friend,

You inquired about the nature of theological study. You asked whether your interest in theology meant that you should pursue work in the church or academy or whether you should strive to be an intelligent layman in the kirk.

I started my journey over 20 years ago and have loved every single aspect of it. Theological and pastoral pursuits are my bread and butter and chicken wings. But I wish to begin, first and foremost, by offering some cautions. I don’t want to write to you about the virtues of studying theology or even your future, except to say the “study of God”–“theos logia”–is electrifying, mysterious, and dangerous. Here I wish only to alert you first to the “danger” of studying theology.

One of the great dangers is to assume that theology can be neat and tidy. If we simply have all our categories in order we can right the world’s wrongs. If we grasp fully the intricacies of the ontological Trinity, we will be able to grasp theology in summa. Even though theology comes down from heaven, we shouldn’t assume we have developed an appetite for heavenly things. In fact, I have witnessed too many theological students whose appetite for heavenly things is so small that I hope to never see their faces in the pulpit or leading a study. Be cautious to attend to those matters of piety first. A proud man in the Church is a dangerous man for the church.

Sometimes we treat theology like an engineer treats numbers. Studying theology becomes like reading an encyclopedia of facts. But we must be aware that in every endeavor of reading and studying and writing, we bring presuppositions, experiences, frustrations, and much more to the task. Therefore, we shouldn’t expect that straightforward propositions apply to all situations nor that they should be mechanically applied. Theology, especially pastoral theology, is deeply intimate.

Sometimes, “trust in God” works for the weary, but at other times it can be understood as simplistic and unsympathetic. “All things work together for good” can make a great bumper sticker but de-contextualized, it can seem cheap and even offensive. Be cautious that your theological studies don’t minimize pain or trivialize real concerns. Know your Bible, but know your people as well.

Theology can be difficult to apply. It requires wisdom. In fact, it requires humility to speak into someone’s life. The more we think through it, the more we live together, make mistakes together, the more we learn to speak the truth in love and connect theology to human experience. That is my first real caution as you continue your studies and consider your future. Many cheers and clarity in your pursuits.

Sincerely,

Pastor Brito

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The Myth that the Reformation was a Break from Liturgy

There is a myth that when the Reformers broke from Rome, they broke free from liturgical worship. True Protestant worship is spontaneous and unconstrained by liturgical forms. Who needs a bulletin? Let’s just follow the Spirit.” This is the general belief of most evangelicals in America– that breaking from Rome is breaking from liturgy. Of course, everyone has a liturgy; some are thought through, others are not. And because of this supposed idea of how a Reformed Church should be, many Protestants have ended up with spontaneous and entertainment-driven worship. But here is the irony of all of this: before the Reformation, the people would gather to be entertained by the Roman Church. Now they were not entertained by skits and praise bands as many do today, rather they were entertained by seeing the priest do his magic. In those days, the priest would take the bread and wine and magically it would be turned into the substance of Christ’s body. But when the magic was done the people themselves did not take the bread and wine; only the priest took the bread and wine. The people just sat there and listened to the priest talk in a language that they did not know. It was a sort of passive entertainment. Do you know how the Reformers reacted to this magical trickery and this passive entertainment offered to the people? The Reformers said: “Enough of this!” “The Reformers rediscovered the biblical truth that the whole congregation is a priesthood called to offer up spiritual sacrifice before God.”

The Reformers insisted that the people together with the minister do the work of worship; that people instead of sitting down passively and watching the trained musicians or the priest do his trick were now going to become themselves living sacrifices unto God. So, instead of only the trained musicians in the choir singing, the Reformers began to take the laity, the common people, and trained them to sing. Luther, of course, was a much better trained musician than most of the Reformers, so he began to compose beautiful music. He began to train the congregation to sing robustly, not like monks, but like warriors. And Calvin, who was not musically gifted, hired a musician to put the psalms into music b. So, you see what is happening is that the  passive nature of the people in worship, where only the professionals sing–that is in fact still prevalent in our own day– has much more in common with Roman Catholicism than it does with Protestantism. The Reformers wanted the congregation involved in the liturgy: in the singing, confessing, and every other part of worship. Therefore, the Reformers did not abandon the liturgy, they corrected the liturgy of Rome. Instead of only priests and trained singers involved in the church, while the people remain silenced, the Reformers involved the entire congregation in sacred worship.

Many of you who have probably visited a Roman Catholic Church may say, “The modern Roman Catholic church is not like the Catholic Church of the 16th century.” The modern day Catholic church has services in English and the people sing and the people take the bread and wine every Sunday. Do you know why this is the case? Because many years after the Protestant Reformation, the Roman Catholics realized that the Reformers were taking over the world and that they were losing the game and so they concluded: “We need to imitate the Protestants.”

It is not uncommon to have someone visit the congregation I pastor in Pensacola and say that our liturgy looks Catholic. But this means that they have bought into a myth. It is not that our liturgy looks Catholic, it is rather that anything that the Catholic Church does that appears in any way similar to what we do at our Church was learned from the Protestant Reformers, not the other way around. Do you think the modern day Protestant understands the Reformation? I would like to think they do. But every time you hear these myths stated remember what really happened. Remember and remind non-Reformed people that the Reformers loved the unity of the Church, they believed strongly that the people should read their Bibles in the context of the church, that the Reformers believed in predestination because the Bible taught predestination, and that the Reformers, not Rome, restored worship to the people.

Why do we celebrate the Reformation? Because the Reformers believed that the ancient paths of Moses and Paul were good paths and that we should walk in them and find rest for our souls.

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Why I am Reformed

Dear Friend,

You inquired so honestly about why I am committed to a Reformed vision of life, that I feel compelled to at least give you a brief overview.

First, it’s important to note that I am Reformed in the catholic sense. By “catholic,” I mean in the sense that I have high regard for other traditions. While I am committed to particular features of the 16th Century Protestant Reformation (see below), I am in no way committed to abiding by every doctrine that sprung from that era. However, when I do disagree with my forefathers, I don’t do it flippantly, but with tremendous respect and caution. They were so loyal to the Scriptures that when I disagree with their interpretation I do it with as much humility I can muster.

Second, I am compelled by the Reformed faith because it exalts God to a place of highest honor. Of course, other traditions exalt God, but the Reformed faith places God as the center of all thinking, living, doing, and abiding. In a culture so heavily invested in the wants and desires of men, the Reformed tradition places the glory of God above all earthly glories.

Third, and perhaps one of the central aspects that drew me to the theology of Calvin, Luther, and Bucer was their immense love for the Holy Bible. The Bible was for them the central and primary authority over all matters of faith and practice. Instead of relying on methods of apologetics that excuse or draws us away from the text, the Reformed faith is unapologetically biblical. God is and therefore everything flows from that presupposition.

Fourth, and I owe this largely to Martin Luther, but what draws me more and more every day to the Reformed faith is its principle that when you sing you pray twice (see Augustine). Luther believed that the congregation needed to be committed to singing God’s words and sound theology. I still recall my first experience in a Reformed church and singing:

His kingdom cannot fail;
He rules o’er earth and heav’n.
The keys of death and hell
To Christ the Lord are giv’n.

I never heard such piercing and powerful lyrics. For the Reformed, the congregation is the choir.

Finally, I am Reformed because of Abraham Kuyper’s mission to apply the Christian faith to every sphere of life. He once wrote: “There is not a square inch in the whole domain of our human existence over which Christ, who is Sovereign over all, does not cry, Mine!” For the Reformed, to be a Christian is not just a state of being, but a verb. A Christian christianizes. He brings the joys of heaven to everything he touches on earth.

If I had more time, I’d talk about the Church and how the Reformation renewed a true vision of the Church, but I think my outline above should suffice. Again, thanks for your question and I am looking forward to your feedback.

Yours Truly,
Uri

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A Primer on the Gospel

We cannot exhaust the beauties of the Gospel, but we can provide a bigger picture of the Gospel than what is typically presented in the Church today. The hope is that we would grow ever more grateful for the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ.

What is the Gospel?

First, the Gospel is about Christ. The clearest Bible passage is found in I Corinthians 15 where the Apostle Paul says, “The Gospel, which he preached, is about Christ and his death and resurrection.” In Romans 1, Paul says he declares a Gospel about the Son, who was descended from David. Later in Romans, Paul makes a powerful connection between the Gospel and Christ’s incarnation. The Gospel must be about Christ. Christ is the way, the truth, and the life. Christ embodies the Gospel in his life, death, and resurrection. Everything that makes the Gospel beautiful is beautiful because of Christ. So when we think about the Gospel, one fundamental facet of it, perhaps the most central of them all, is that the Gospel is about Christ.

Let’s unpack that a bit more.

The word “Gospel” is not just a word we use in the Christian world. In fact, the word was used in the ancient world for various reasons. For example, the word Gospel was used when Caesar would have a Son, or if he won a great military victory, or a new Caesar ascended the throne – the proclamation of that news was called gospel, and his heralds would announce the gospel in all the empire.

The Christian community adopted this language to proclaim a different message; not a message about Caesar, but a message about Christ. The Gospel is about Christ because Jesus Christ is King. The most basic confession of faith is Jesus is Lord. The Gospel is good news because it announces what God has done in Christ.

Secondly, the Gospel is about History. One pastor put it this way: “The Gospel was planned in eternity, and executed in history.”[1] The passage we read today from I Corinthians 15 says that the Gospel is a historical event. The late Christopher Hitchens was once interviewed by a liberal pastor. The pastor asked him, “Christopher, why do you keep debating these radical Christians? “What do you mean by radical?” the famed atheist inquired. The liberal pastor said, “Well, I mean those Christians who believe the resurrection of Jesus was a historical event. I am a mainline pastor. I don’t believe that Jesus rose literally as the Bible says.” This is where I think Hitchens shined. He told this liberal pastor: “The reason I debate these so-called radicals is because they actually believe in the historical claims of Christianity unlike you.”

If you do not accept that the Gospel is what God has done in history, then you might as well pack your liberal suitcase, close the church doors, and never again refer to yourself as a Gospel minister. Every time you come to Church on Sundays and confess the Nicene Creed you are making historical claims. What does the Creed say? “He was crucified for us under Pontius Pilate.” Now, Pilate was not a high-ranking political figure. He was a mid-level bureaucrat. The Creed and the Bible mention him because it’s a way of anchoring the Christian Gospel in history.

Thirdly, the Gospel is about the Church. In our definitions of the Gospel, this is one area where I am convinced many simply overlook or miss altogether, which means they are proclaiming an incomplete Gospel.

You see, the Gospel is never just Jesus and “me,” it’s Jesus and “we.” The Gospel creates a new community.[2] The Gospel gives us a new way of being human. And the way we can be most human is by proclaiming the institutional Church as integral to the Gospel from beginning to end.

Far too many Gospel presentations leave the church out altogether. The Gospel becomes only about “How do I get saved’” So let me phrase this provocatively to make my point. It’s not, “God has a wonderful plan for your life,” but “God has a wonderful plan for his Church.” If you want to be a part of that wonderful plan, then be a part of the Church. The Gospel is most clearly seen within the gates of Zion where we meet together as a people. It is in her that we hear the word and taste of the Gospel in bread and wine.

Therefore, when we talk about the Gospel, we are talking about a lot more than simply how I was saved or where I am going to go when I die, but we are talking about the Person and Work of Christ; we are talking about the historical realities of the death, burial, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus, and we are talking about the Church.

What we are trying to communicate as a Church is a powerful Gospel that encompasses so much more. We are teaching a Gospel that transcends the claims of Nero or Pilate. We are proclaiming a Gospel from another world; a Gospel that came down in human flesh, suffered under Pontius Pilate and gave himself for the Church. A Gospel that says less than these things is still the Gospel, but it is a weak Gospel. Most of the problems we have with the Gospel today is that we have found our pet doctrine, and we tell the world, “Unless you believe that the Gospel is only about this, then you are forsaking the Gospel.” But the breadth and depth of the Bible teach us that the Gospel is more than one mere idea. The Gospel is the promise that our Lord and King, Jesus, is calling us to participate in something greater than ourselves. And this is good news! Believe this and rejoice!

[1] Rich Lusk. Sermons at Trinity Presbyterian. I generously took from Rich’s brilliant sermon. You can find his sermons here:
http://trinity-pres.net/

[2] Lusk.



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The Glorious Reformation

It has been a long time since I have been actively engaged in debates over TULIP–commonly known as the Five Points of Calvinism. I came to these convictions in college. In fact, I remember when the very mention of the word “Calvinism” was seen as a violation of all that is sacred. I remember a friend indignantly asking me: “What kind of God would violate my will to do His will?” I still remember my calm response: “The kind of God who is gracious enough to love you.” Unfortunately, I can’t say all my responses were with such dignity. Some of you reading this may even remember a time or ten that I opined with excessive zeal.

I recall my roommate’s mom sending him books with bold warnings on the front page: “Danger: This book is written by a Calvinist.” I often wondered why the book wasn’t burnt if it posed such great danger. The answer was/is that these Calvinists were actually producing great material on behalf of the Pro-Life movement (Francis Schaeffer), in favor of inerrancy (R.C. Sproul), biblical apologetics (Greg Bahnsen), etc. They were the leading voices of everything evangelicals thought noble, yet they had this supposed intellectual disability when it came to the doctrines of grace.

Many years later, I continue to find the inestimable value in these Calvinist writers. They continue to shape modern exegesis, hermeneutics, cultural ethics, the role of the Church in society, and more. And since those early days in college, the so-called Calvinist population has increased dramatically due to the popularity of well-known preachers. As a friend recently observed to me: “Uri, when I saw the Bible through the lens of God’s sovereign grace everything began to make sense.”

As Reformation Day approaches, I believe the entire evangelical Church owes a great debt to the Reformation. I am not naive to the critiques and some even right ones, but still, we live these days in the glorious overflow of benefits brought by the labors of our Reformed forefathers.

Soli Deo Gloria.
“There is not a square inch in the whole domain of our human existence over which Christ, who is Sovereign over all, does not cry, Mine!”

― Abraham Kuyper

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The End of the Serpent’s Sting

There is a venomous snake in the garden. While the great Messiah and his disciples enter the garden, a certain snake-like figure named Judas knows precisely where the faithful are. He enters the garden knowing that this was a place of constant fellowship and peace. But Judas is not a man of peace and his fellowship with the Messiah has been broken. He is now a man at war and his loyalty is with the darkness.

In the Garden of Eden, the Great Serpent entered the garden to bring about chaos; to tempt the first Adam. Indeed he was successful. The first Adam failed in his loyalty to Yahweh, being deceived by the serpent in the garden, and thus, thrusting all mankind into a state of sin and misery. Now in John 18, the New Serpent enters the garden. He is possessed by the same devil that possessed the serpent in Genesis. It is this precise battle that is unfolding before us in this text. The question is: “Who owns the garden?”

Does Judas with his new found commitment to darkness and evil own the garden or does Jesus own the garden? As the text reveals to us we see that Judas, the son of perdition, seems to have the upper hand in this sacred dispute. In verse 12 we read:

So the band of soldiers and their captain and the officers of the Jews arrested Jesus and bound him.

Jesus is arrested and bound. They take him out of the garden bound like a defeated enemy. Now, in every conceivable scenario, this would be the historical determination that Jesus has lost. But if the Messiah is to bring this unshakable and unmovable kingdom with his coming, then how does this binding, this apparent defeat in the garden connect with this glorious kingdom? The answer to this question is: paradoxically. The coming of the kingdom is paradoxical. The kingdom does not come in the way and in the expression that many expected.

Now if the kingdom of God comes paradoxically, in a way unknown to the first century, then there may be a different way of understanding this garden scene. In this text, Jesus is not being bound because of defeat; he is being bound because of victory. Jesus’ arrest is his release. His arrest is not his binding, it may appear to be, but it is ultimately the binding of the evil one, the father of lies, Satan himself. This is why the gospel of Matthew tells us that Jesus is the One who bound the strong man. He is the One who arrested the Serpent and dragged him out of the garden. Jesus owns the garden, not Judas or His master, Satan.

This arrest and this binding of Jesus in the garden is not a plan gone awry, it is exactly what has been planned. In one sense, this arrest is the cosmic Trinitarian conspiracy against the kingdoms of this world. When evil leaders and governments think they have the Son of Man trapped, he fools them. As Psalm 2 says, “God laughs at their plans.” The conspiracy of the cross is that the cross is Christ’s sword to defeat evil. But the serpent does not know this. He is virtually blinded to the Messianic plan and nothing will stop Jesus from conquering evil and bringing in a new world, a new creation. The garden belongs to him, because the garden is where his people gather, and eat, and fellowship. The garden is the sacred space, the place of peace. Make no mistake, we are a warring people, but we war against the enemies of Messiah. In the garden, the King, Master, and Messiah says, “the gates of hell shall not prevail. Death dies once and for all and victory will come and we will celebrate it this Sunday. Today, though we fast, it is only a prelude to our coming feast. Jesus’ death marks the end of the serpent’s sting of death.

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New Publication from Kuyperian Press: A Case for Infant Baptism

Kuyperian Press was founded to provide works that are accessible to the layman in the parish. In this new work, Dr. Gregg Strawbridge provides a wonderful summary of the case for infant baptism in the Bible.

What makes this booklet different?

Strawbridge has provided various charts and biblical connections making the case that the Bible’s promise to the children of the covenant has not been forgotten in the New Testament.

“In this little book, Gregg Strawbridge provides a clear, concise and compelling case for infant baptism. He anticipates the important questions, provides succinct answers, and thereby adds a highly valuable resource to the current conversation.”

–          John G. Crawford, Author of Baptism is Not Enough

 

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The Abuse of Introspection

Some people dwell so much on their sinfulness that they find themselves constantly bombarding their status with doubt. Am I really a Christian? Am I worthy? These questions are not atypical of those who grow up in environments where internalized Christianity is emphasized. There is a healthy form of self-examination and Paul informs Pastors (II Corinthians 13:5) to encourage parishioners to examine themselves. At the same time, there is a difference between self-examination and introspection that is not often considered.

It is worth mentioning that God cares about our hearts. Out of it can flow the waters of destruction or waters of peace (Ps. 42). The repentant psalmist cries that God would create in him a clean heart, and that God would restore the joy of his salvation. Here again it is important to notice that this salvation has a face, a joyful one.

Martyn-Lloyd Jones wrote that a depressed Christian is not a good apologetic for Christianity. Whether there are physiological components at the root of this depression or not, it is still not a good presentation of the Christian faith. Depression is a form of despising God’s gifts and goodness. All of us are prone to it, and all of us must fight it. Schmemann once wrote that “Of all accusations against Christians, the most terrible one was uttered by Nietzsche when he said that Christians had no joy.” Joy is not forced, rather it is the natural outflow of a heart saturated with grace.

But aren’t we all sinners in need of repentance? While Simul Iustus et Peccator is true, we can over-stress the clarity of our sinfulness. I am aware of pastors who declare with great boldness the sinfulness of men without declaring with great boldness the sublime fact of the justification of men through the act of the ascended Messiah. This latter part seems to be missing in our day. The doctrine of total depravity has had the effect of depriving many Christians from a life of common joy lived in the presence of the One who has become our joy. While stressing man’s condition as sinful is important, an over-use of this hermeneutical tactic can lead men and women to live lives of doubt and insecurity.

While we invest time in our spiritual journeys to reflect and examine our lives, and to see if there are any wicked way in our thoughts and actions, we must invest an even greater time nourishing the spiritual magnitude of our status before God. When we live our lives in a constant environment of self-mortification we will mortify not only our flesh, but also our joy.

Martyn Lloyd-Jones writes in his insightful Spiritual Depression: Its Causes and Cures that “we cross the line from self-examination to introspection when, in a sense, we do nothing but examine ourselves, and when such self-examination becomes the main and chief end in our life (17).” When the chief end of man becomes self-examination there will always be a temptation to morbidity and spiritual depression. By constantly “putting our souls on a plate and dissecting it” we are showing the world a severe level of insecurity in our union with the reigning and risen Lord.

There are vast implications for all of this. Two examples will suffice to make this point:

First, introspective people–as I hinted earlier–rarely find time for others’ needs.  They have the immensity of their own depraved heart to occupy themselves. I have seen this played out throughout the years and, in fact, I speak from experience. When one delves deeply routinely into the many conspiracies of the heart he will sink in them. The heart is deceitful above all things, even deceiving us to think we only need to dwell in it.  The pastor may encourage his people to examine whether they are loving, desiring, and pursuing God as they should. But if this is the theme of his preaching and pastoral ministry he is building a congregation of morbid purists. This is why–I argue–there is legitimacy to those who call us to look to Jesus (Heb. 12:2). But generally when some call us to look to Jesus, they are in fact calling us to look back to our hearts to see whether we are looking to Jesus. Again, this is problematic and only exacerbating the problem. We do not look to Jesus as a lucky-charm, rather we look to Jesus because we reflect his glory and righteousness. Those who are united to Jesus become like Jesus. Those who worship Jesus become like Jesus. We look to Jesus, so that we move from self-examination to living out our faith with joy, peace, and abundant satisfaction (Ps. 16:11).

Ultimately, introspection is deadly. It is not surprising, then, to see those who walk about with defeatist spirits sporting their defeatist introspective theology.

Secondly, this motif plays out in the Eucharistic life of a church. At this point, I criticize even my own Reformed tradition. Though strongly committed to Reformed truth I am also aware that instead of producing joyful Christians, our tradition produces an army of introspective experts.

This is seen most clearly in the Reformed liturgy. Some churches justify their monthly or quarterly communion by stating that the congregation needs a week or more to examine themselves for the day (usually Sunday evening) of the Lord’s Supper. But what kind of vision are we perpetuating for our people? That the Lord’s Supper depends on our worthiness? That the Supper demands an environment of perfected introspection? That the Supper and somberness are part of the same context?

It is my contention that until we are able to undo the decisively introspective evangelical culture we are going to provide ammunition to non-Christians. We must recover a healthy self-examination, but also a redemptive display of over-abundant joy.