The Quest for Mere Christianity

Before Roberta Green and her family joined Redeemer Presbyterian Church, she had one final question. Years before, she and her husband had been part of a small Reformed denomination that was very sectarian and inward-focused. It was not a happy experience. She had also grown up in a fundamentalist church and had the scars to show for it. "Is Redeemer ecumenical or sectarian?" she asked. "Because I grew up deep in the fundamentalist world where every kind of church or believer who was not in our denomination was a heretic and needed to be shunned and I don't want to be part of a church like that again."

 

I had gotten to know Roberta and her family well over the preceding months, so I knew of their wide-ranging contacts with Christians of all traditions and denominations around the world. Although they had differences with these people, what they shared in common was more important, especially in the face of widespread persecution by the Muslim governments of the Middle east and Africa. They rallied around orthodoxy, a belief in the historic creeds and deep passion for Jesus. This family was also passionate about John Calvin, his world- and life-view, and the ancient church fathers like Ambrose, Augustine and Athanasius. They had spent weeks traveling through Egypt and Turkey in search of ancient Christianity and the early church fathers. So when she used the word ecumenical, I knew what she meant. It was not the old ecumenism of dying liberalism but the new ecumenism, or what Tom Oden calls the surprising "rebirth of orthodoxy" around the world.

 

Before responding to her, I asked her a question: "Can Redeemer Church remain faithful to its theological traditions rooted in the history of the early church and Reformation and at the same time remain passionately committed to unity with all genuine believers?" Roberta responded, "Absolutely." "Then," I said, "I think Redeemer will be a good fit for your family." A short while later they became members.

A few months later my wife and I were invited to a dinner party at Roberta's home. It is not uncommon for the Greens to host a party of ten or twelve, usually around a special guest or a wonderful topic. Delicious food and great wine combined with stimulating conversation make for a wonderful evening. Their guests have included people from Cambridge, Copenhagen, Cairo, Charlottesville, Rome, Moscow and Washington, D.C., to name just a few. On this occasion, the honored guest was theologian and prolific author Tom Oden. A few weeks before the dinner I ordered his book The Rebirth of Orthodoxy. having not read any of his books, I wanted to be able to add to the conversation. I did not realize how groundbreaking this book is. It deeply challenged me and opened my eyes to a reality I did not know existed.

In the previous chapter I argue that no real dialogue or learning can take place between the traditional and emerging churches without them listening to and fairly representing each other.

 

What is missing from the dialogue, what would help us move from accusation to mutual learning, from innuendo to honesty, is trust. Trust is confidence that the other

person's intentions are good and that we have no reason to be protective or careful around them. When one party feels disrespected or feels that their ideas have been summarily dismissed, trust is broken and communication is disrupted. Both sides are locked in a cycle of distrust and self-protection. Isn't this what has happened between the emerging and traditional sides? And doesn't this harm the witness of the church (John 13:33-35)?

 

Of course, many traditional churches aren't seeking unity with the emerging church, which, after all, is theologically liberal in their eyes. A serious charge, no doubt. If they are theologically liberal, that is, they reject the rebirth of orthodoxy, then ecclesial unity may be neither possible nor desirable. I hope this is obvious. If someone denies the deity of Christ or the incarnation, for example, unity would not be possible. Nevertheless, on a personal level, love, civility and kindness would still guide us. Dialogue is always a good thing even with those outside the bounds of orthodoxy.

 

But what if the emerging church is not theologically liberal? What if those within it are nonetheless distrusted and made to feel as if they are the enemy? They would feel insecure, on guard and threatened when talking with traditionalists. They might even return the favor by dismissing the traditional church. This makes real dialogue nearly impossible. When each side distrusts the other, we have a divided evangelical church. Is there a way forward? how do we get to the point where both sides can talk about their differences and learn from each other without being accused of heresy? By first agreeing about what binds Christians together. It is that simple. We have to arrive at what John Stott calls the "unity of the gospel." All unity has a doctrinal aspect. No unity is possible without boundaries of thought and belief around something. There is always a limit to what any group can tolerate without being torn apart.

In his book Evangelical Truth, Stott argues that the apostle Paul "begs his readers to 'stand firm in one spirit, contending as one man for the faith of the gospel' (Phil 1:27). He goes on to urge them: 'make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose' (2:2)." Stott argues that Paul is not calling for unity at any price, for example, being willing to compromise fundamental truths in order to maintain relational unity, or splitting from those who are not in total agreement on every theology point and doctrine. "It is rather unity in the gospel, in evangelical essentials, 'standing . . . side by side in the struggle to advance the gospel faith' (Phil 1:27 reb)." This is a commitment to both the purity of biblical teaching and the peace of togetherness.

 

The problem for evangelicals, Stott contends, is that we have a "pathological tendency to fragment." We place doctrinal purity over unity, or we stress relational unity over sound doctrine. The reality is that Jesus wants us to be equally committed to both--the peace and purity of the church. When this is not the case, our disunity is a major hindrance to our evangelism and witness to the world. We fail at the "final apologetic," our love for one another. If we can agree on the essential matters, the "unity of the gospel," then we have a shot at rebuilding trust and moving forward.

 

What Stott calls the "unity of the gospel," Tom Oden calls the "new ecumenism." This "new ecumenism is above all committed unapologetically to ancient ecumenical teaching." It is committed to God's Word, "a long-term view of a cumulative, historical consensus, and a classic ecumenical view of God the Father, God the Son, and God the holy Spirit." It also holds, he continues, "to the classic consensual doctrines of incarnation, atonement and resurrection, and the return of the Lord." As Oden makes clear, "These are fixed boundary stones in the ancient ecumenical tradition--stones that we are commanded not to move or attempt to refashion. In the old ecumenism . . . these classic doctrines were largely submerged under the provocative rhetoric of supposedly radical social transformation."

 

Oden uses the word classical to describe his position. The word is important to what he is calling for and presents something that furthers my argument about trust. For Oden, classic Christianity is "most reliably defined textually by the New Testament itself," and "it is most concisely summed up in a primitive baptismal confession that was entirely derived from Scripture as salvation history." The core of this doctrine is found in the Apostles' Creed, the Nicene Creed and the so-called Athanasian Creed, all of which have bound Christians together for centuries.