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EFORMATION VOLUME 6 NUMBER 6

NOVEMBER/

Naked and Ashamed: Does anyone feel guilty anymore?

Naked and Ashamed:

Does anyone feel guilty anymore?

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FEATURES 4

The Justification of the Guilty, Not the Righteous Michael S. Horton If we’re only dysfunctional and not desperately wicked, then there isn’t any need for God’s amazing grace.

10 Guilt and Compassion: Old Testament versus New Testament?

Tremper Longman III The author refutes the mistaken belief that guilt is confined to the Old Testament and mercy to the New.

12 The Guilt-Heavy Theology of Cotton Mather Rachel S. Stahle Looking especially at Mather’s response to smallpox in Boston, we learn that it is possible to warp an entire theology by under-emphasizing God’s mercy in Christ.

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18 Guiltless Good News Don Matzat When a movement is focused on building self-esteem, it will begin to avoid the unpopular yet biblical topic of human sinfulness.

22 “Comfort Ye My People”: A Reformation Perspective on Absolution DEPARTMENTS 2 3 27 35

In This Issue…

Letters Quotes Review

37 In Print 38 Endnotes 40 On My Mind

Rick Ritchie and Michael S. Horton While the Reformers vigorously fought the abuses and excesses of the Roman church, they didn’t put absolution in that category.

Cover: Ruth Naomi Floyd ©1997 silver/gelatin

EFORMATION

IN THIS ISSUE…

By Michael S. Horton

A publication of Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals Editor-in-Chief Dr. Michael S. Horton Assistant Editor Benjamin E. Sasse

Guilty as Charged

Production Editor Irene H. Hetherington

specially popular around southern California is the bumper sticker, projected in all of its vulgar self-expression, “Screw guilt!” Not only are we supposed to sin, it seems (after all, I’m only human), but we are supposed to tell any residual remorse left of our humanity created in God’s image to take a hike. In our therapeutic society, which cultural critic Christopher Lasch captured in his best-selling title, The Culture of Narcissism, guilt is reduced to subjective feeling. It doesn’t seem to be related in any significant way to an actual state of affairs but is on the order of an insuppressible hiccup. It just happens.

Sometimes, of course, guilt is just a feeling, due to falling short of what others had planned for you, a feeling of inadequacy, or the sense that someone is going to zap you for having a beer with friends because of your upbringing and socialization.

But more often than not, guilt is real because sin is real. Trying to live without guilt is like trying to live without physical pain: It can’t be done and it shouldn’t be done.

Like pain, guilt gets our attention. We realize that we are not going to get away with self-justifications, rationalizations, or excuses. We can play the “blame game” all we want, but eventually we have to accept our responsibilities.

The good news is that the only people God wants to save are guilty people. God justifies the wicked, not the righteous (Rom. 4:5). After all, “Jesus said, ‘It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick … For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners’” (Matt. 9:12-13). Because of that, we are free to come out of hiding, to acknowledge who we really are before God, ourselves, and others. Don’t go looking for guilt, but if it finds you, don’t run away—unless it’s to Christ for freedom from sin’s guilt and power.

Copy Editors Ann Henderson Hart Deborah Barackman

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Layout and Design Lori A. Cook Proofreader Alyson S. Platt Alliance Council Dr. John H. Armstrong The Rev. Alistair Begg Dr. James M. Boice Dr. W. Robert Godfrey Dr. John D. Hannah Dr. Michael S. Horton Mrs. Rosemary Jensen Dr. J. A. O. Preus Dr. R. C. Sproul Dr. Gene E. Veith, Jr. Dr. David F. Wells Contributing Scholars Dr. S. M. Baugh Dr. D. A. Carson Dr. Sinclair B. Ferguson Dr. Timothy George Dr. D. G. Hart Dr. Carl F. H. Henry Dr. Arthur A. Just Dr. Robert Kolb Dr. Tremper Longman III The Rev. Donald Matzat Dr. John W. Montgomery Mr. John Muether Dr. Richard A. Muller Mr. Kenneth A. Myers Dr. Tom J. Nettles Dr. Roger Nicole Dr. Leonard R. Payton Dr. Lawrence R. Rast Dr. Kim Riddlebarger Mr. Rick Ritchie Dr. Rod Rosenbladt Dr. David P. Scaer The Rev. Harold L. Senkbeil Ms. Rachel S. Stahle Dr. Robert Strimple Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals © 1997 All rights reserved.

The Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals exists to call the church, amidst our dying culture, to repent of its worldliness, to recover and confess the truth of God’s Word as did the Reformers, and to see that truth embodied in doctrine, worship and life.

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LETTERS My wife is an avid fan of garage sales. The other day, she brought home two fairly recent issues of modernREFORMATION. While I have a great deal of respect for many of your contributing scholars and also for Reformation theology, I found it ironic to read articles on “culture.” It is my observation that your scholars are pots calling the kettle black. I suspect that only religious elites find this style of writing enjoyable.

The fog index in both of these issues is very high. It seems your writers turn to their electronic thesauri to find difficult and unusual words to replace easy ones.

They also seem to delight in long sentences and confusing phraseology. Alas, I have only an engineering B.S. degree obtained 35 years ago. My wife, poor thing, not a college graduate, couldn’t make head nor tails out of what the messages were.

My Bible, albeit an English translation, has always seemed to me to be written for the most part in easy to read language. Thank God he entrusted his Word to men not classified as scholars. But perhaps I misunderstand. Is your publication even meant for the vulgar Christian?

Donald H. Winter Placentia, CA

EDITOR’S RESPONSE These letters raise two important questions. First: what is the value to the church of scholars undertaking technical theological study? Second: what is the purpose and who is the audience of MR, and are the purpose and the audience well-served by certain articles being devoted to narrow or “academic” questions?

Initially, we should acknowledge that it is obviously possible to pursue an academic question for the wrong reason. It does not, of course, necessarily follow that academic questions are pursued for merely wrong reasons. As to the concern about an issue on culture (Jan./Feb. 1997), we sought to grasp some of the obstacles to biblical faith and practice in our particular time and place. Mr. Anders’ article (July/Aug. 1997), though more technical than a usual MR piece, dealt with a particularly timely debate.

Hopefully MR will always have plenty for those new to the Reformation, as well as a few pieces for those with more technical interests. Our intended audience is the thoughtful layperson, interested in growing in his or her understanding. Though occasionally a piece may require rereading, our belief is that learning theology is much like learning any new language, hobby, or profession. It grows on you—so we hope you’ll keep reading.

Let me preface what I’m about to say with the assurance that my criticism is meant to be constructive. I sincerely hope it is taken that way. Also, this is not meant to be derogatory in any way to the author of the article.

My criticism is with regard to the publication in modernR EFORMATION of articles, such as “Divine Impassibility and Our Suffering God” (July/August), which are apparently written for an academic or other narrow audience, and are so laden with pedantry that they neither edify nor inform. I understand very well that such writing is sometimes necessary to impress some people, especially professors that may hold the access to an advanced degree, but is MR really the place for such writing?

I have brought this problem to your attention with regard to a previous article, so it isn’t a completely isolated case. I sincerely hope you don’t let articles of this sort become a regular part of your otherwise excellent publication.

Les Cover Las Cruces, NM

Please inform readers of modernREFORMATION about Geneva, a search engine for web sites which contain Reformed literature. This search engine is being offered

by Founders ONLINE (http://www.founders.org)—the official web site of the Southern Baptist Founders Conference and related activities, an organization dedicated to the propagation of historic (Calvinistic) Southern Baptist principles.

The URL for the Geneva info page is http: //geneva.founders.org/ The simple search form address is http://geneva.founders.org/simple.html Stan Reeves Webmaster for Founders ONLINE, Via Internet modernREFORMATION: Letters to the Editor 1716 Spruce Street, Philadelphia, PA 19103 Fax: (215) 735-5133 ModernRef@aol.com www.remembrancer.com/ace NOVEMBER/DECEMBER 1997

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The Justification of the Guilty, Not the Righteous MICHAEL S. HORTON In an ar ticle published in America, January 29, 1994, English professor Brian Abel Ragen, a lay Roman Catholic, observes that a good number of Protestant hymns have made their way into the Mass.

He laments not only that the “reforms” since the 1960s have produced a rash of tacky imitation pop music, but that the older Protestant hymns themselves have been revised. These hymns haven’t been changed by Catholics because of their Protestant theology, but because of a force that appears g reater than either tradition: modernity.

While Newton believed that human beings were wretches, in desperate need of a savior, these 20th-century adapters clearly believe that they and the congregations who sing their words are perfectly nice people— almost nice enough to be Unitarians.

They are not bad—certainly not wretches; they have simply lost their way. They are not wicked; they merely have a handicap—a dysfunction—from which they hope to recover.

However, this misses the whole point, Ragen insists.

“Grace is amazing because it saves wretches, not because it 4

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“Amazing Grace,” Ragen points out, now reads, “Amazing grace! How sweet the sound! That saved and strengthened me!” Readers will recall the original line as, “That saved a wretch like me!” Ragen observes of the classic hymn’s author,

puts a final polish on nice people.” After all, “You cannot be saved if you are not lost. You cannot be redeemed if you are not in hock. You cannot be freed unless you are enslaved.” While rejecting human sinfulness, the churches MODERN REFORMATION

want to retain some sentimental notion of redemption, Ragen says. “Probably the worst example,” in his opinion, is “And They’ll Know We Are Christians By Our Love.” Our contemporary praise music, sung in both evangelical and Roman Catholic churches, has left out sin and grace as categories, instead praising ourselves for our love and devotion.

Ragen’s conclusion is undeniable: Those who actually believe in the doctrines of Christianity will view with alarm a movement through which the church itself undermines its basic doctrines. They will be saddened to sing bad poetry, when they could sing good poetry.

Even more, they will be appalled to see their own hymns weakening the one Christian doctrine that can be verified from the television news, from the behavior of their colleagues— and themselves—at work and from the quarrels over their dinner-tables: human depravity.

What sets Christianity apart from the rest of the world’s religions is that Christians both recognize a Fall and proclaim a Savior. They will know we are Christians, not by our love, but by our recognition that we are worms and wretches.

One of the marvelous things about a public confession of sin in the liturgy is that you have to say it even when you don’t want to. I can’t recall the last time I went into the service longing to agree with God that I am “a miserable offender” who is “not worthy to gather up the crumbs under the table” of God’s grace. But it is a testimony to the power of the Law and the Gospel that when I do say this, and receive God’s forgiveness, I know why I am a Christian again.

Sentimentalism has created an alter native to Christianity, even when it goes by the latter’s name.

Writing just after the war, Harry Blamires (a close friend of C. S. Lewis’) wrote, A curse of contemporary Christendom has been the replacement of traditional theology by a new system which we may call Twentieth-century Sentimental Theology. Sentimental theology has invented a God: it insists that he is a God of love, and implies that it is therefore his eternal concern that a thumping good time should be had by all. Are we in the dumps? Pray to this God, and, at a word, he restores us to selfconfident buoyancy... Five minutes of prayer to this many-sided God, and we shall be able to rejoice indiscriminately with sinner and saint; we shall be able to spread the family spirit of

Christian charity like a blanket over every disloyalty and infidelity conceived in Hell and planted in men’s hear ts. So r uns the Sentimental Creed.1 Why is it so hard for us to believe that God cannot acquit the guilty, that he cannot love even if it means that perfect justice is not done? To understand that, we need to contrast the Sentimental Creed (Love Is God) with the Christian creed (God Is Love).

Love Is God: The American Religion As early as the turn of the century, philosopher William James was providing Americans with a philosophical theory that had already been taken for granted in the democratic experience. As the father of “pragmatism,” James argued that there is no such thing as truth in terms of an absolute fact “out there.”

Rather, truth was to be made and remade, judged in terms of its results—or, as he put it, in terms of “its cash-value in experiential terms.” Today, philosopher Richard Rorty has carried this view forward, arguing for the notion of “truth” as “therapy.” Ironists such as Rorty believe that what we call “truths” are simply coping mechanisms. If they serve some therapeutic benefit, so much the better. What is interesting, though, is that this reign of therapeutic well-being is nearly universal in our culture. About a year ago, I read a newspaper article on the “Toronto Blessing” in which a well-known secular psychologist gave the movement his own blessing by acknowledging likely therapeutic benefits. Similarly, Pat Robertson has argued repeatedly that Christianity must be true because medical statistics show that people who pray and belong to a “faith community” are healthier.

Whether it’s Richard Gere singing the praises of Buddhist spirituality or evangelicals offering their testimonies, therapeutic results fetch a high price. Thus, we are told that making people feel guilty is the very thing we should avoid. A steady parade of TV talk shows, small groups, popular books, tapes, and radio broadcasts—both secular and religious—insist on it.

From the outset, we should acknowledge that there is such a thing as bad guilt. (See Rachel Stahle’s article on Cotton Mather.) But even though we have suppressed guilt, denied guilt in specific instances, rationalized and exploited it, rarely if ever has an entire culture banished it altogether. When guilt goes, it is no longer possible to treat people as responsible agents.

They become victims instead.

We see this, of course, in our treatment of criminals in the justice system. (In actuality, much of it could be called the therapeutic system.) While we should avoid careless generalizations that fail to appreciate the NOVEMBER/DECEMBER 1997

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positive effect of reformatory justice, what is both obvious and ominous is the triumph of the principle that the criminal is not, prima facie, responsible for his or her actions. Victims of dysfunctional backgrounds, they are broken selves that need mending. Their condition is medical, not innate, and their anti-social behavior is not really a sign of wickedness but of illness. They are not “whole.” Thus, the primary purpose of criminal justice is to reform these fractured selves and restore them to wholeness. Lacking standards of good and evil, the only counter-weights are “victims’ rights” coalitions. Even there, it is not justice, but the offended party’s rights, that obtains center-stage.

In that scenario, revenge easily supplants justice.

What does all of this have to do with our understanding of guilt in the Christian faith? Plenty. While it is true that the Bible describes us both in terms of sinners and those who are sinned against, victimizers and victims, neither “wholeness” nor “revenge” can substitute for justice. Guilt is to justice what “wholeness” is to criminal refor m and revenge is to victim’s rights. While the cross is always foolishness to those who are perishing, its “foolishness” is particularly acute in a therapeutic age. Note, for instance, the rationale one contemporary theologian offers for rejecting the classic Christian statement of the problem and its solution: Is it not a slightly odd view of a morally perfect God that the divine nature can be so slighted and offended by what human beings do? … Anselm’s idea is that the penalty must be paid in full; but is this really compatible with belief in the mercy of God? Secondly, even if one can accept that the sinner must pay such a tremendous penalty, how can it be just for someone else to pay it for me? … God shows love by healing, forgiving, suffering for us. God gives us love by placing his Spirit in our hearts.

God places before us the ideal of the Christ life, and forms it within us as we contemplate it. But there is here no substitutionary death, no vicarious justice, no literal death of one person in place of another.2

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Charles Finney and a host of other American revivalists have shared this perspective. Today many evangelicals implicitly share the view offered by Oxford theologian Keith Ward: salvation equals “healing, forgiving, [and] suffering” love. Such love comes to us as a result of God “placing his Spirit in our hearts” and placing “before us the ideal of the Christ life,” forming it “within us as we contemplate it.” 3 Guilt does not even have to be denied, so long as it is soft-peddled or ignored.

Hardly anyone can object to this kind of “salvation,” because it is the solution to an utterly inoffensive problem. What sense does a substitutionary, vicarious, propitiatory sacrifice of a God-Man make if the problem is something other than guilt?

People can even go on believing in the existence of hell, as 85 percent of American adults do, while barely 11 percent fear the possibility of going there. We are good people who could be better. And even when we are bad, it’s something we do, not something we are. Either we’re too nice or God’s too nice, or maybe both. But guilt is not on the top of our agenda.

In 1996 the Church of England made news by announcing that there is no such thing as eternal damnation, calling the doctrine “a distortion of the revelation of God’s love.” Yet this is the direction of much of popular evangelical reflection these days as well. The bottom line is that we want God to love unjustly. Or let me rephrase that: we want God to love us and other nice people like us unjustly.

But God cannot love in this manner. He cannot love at the expense of everything else. He cannot deny his total character in order to express any single attribute. God loves justly and shows mercy righteously. He is both “just and the justifier of the ungodly.”

God Is Love: The Biblical Religion An essential mark of God’s nature is what theologians call “simplicity.” As seventeenth-century theologian Francis Turretin describes it, “The simplicity of God … is his incommunicable attribute by which the divine nature is conceived by us not only as free from all composition and division, but also as incapable of composition and divisibility.” The Westminster divines put it in these terms: God is “without parts or passions.”

In other words, he is not made up of components: “I MODERN REFORMATION

Am Who I Am.” For God, essence and existence are one and the same. This means that he cannot love unjustly any more than he can condemn unjustly. He cannot lie in pursuit of the truth or violate his holiness in order to express his goodness. He is what he is simultaneously, each attribute participating in a unity—not a unity that “makes up” God, but that is God. After Israel’s idolatry at Mount Sinai, Moses intercedes and God agrees to maintain his presence among his people. Moses cut new tablets of stone and, according to God’s command, met God on top of the mountain.

There God proclaimed his name again: “The LORD, the LORD God, merciful and gracious, long-suffering, and abounding in goodness and tr uth, keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, by no means clearing the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children and the children’s children to the third and the four th generation” (Ex. 34:6-7). Note that God is only God as he is all of this together: merciful and gracious, just and “by no means clearing the guilty.” In fact, God’s justice descends upon the children and the children’s children.

God’s nature hardly satisfies the contemporary appeal of therapeutic well-being: “God is jealous, and the LORD avenges; the LORD avenges and is furious. The LORD … will not at all acquit the wicked.” (Nah. 1:2-3). “I cannot endure iniquity…” (Is. 1:13). The issue is who God is and what he requires. That establishes who we are and what we need. We cannot start with ourselves in this matter, for our great problem is not that we are victims of dysfunction, but that we stand before an affronted God. In the worse moments of our history, there has been a tendency to make it sound as if God had simply gotten up on the wrong side of the bed. A sort of cranky old man who is always worried about the neighborhood kids running through his flower-bed: this is the sort of picture that some forms of preaching offered in past generations. But throughout the story of God’s people, nothing is more apparent than their treachery and God’s patience. Hardly “trigger-happy,” God restrains his wrath. But he will not, for he cannot, let injustice reign. While that has always been bad news for oppressors, it has given hope to the oppressed. The problem is, none of us thinks he or she belongs to the former number.

How God Loves the Guilty If God cannot acquit the guilty or endure sin, how can he also love us? If we do not finally arrive at that dilemma, we know nothing of the story that we find in the Bible. Throughout history, the question, “How does God love the guilty?” has been answered in various ways.

Some say that he loves the guilty by simply “letting bygones be bygones.” God writes up the ticket, but never turns it in. Others say that this sacrifices too much.

Rather, God loves the guilty by making them less guilty.

By refor ming their character and redeeming their past, he heals them and makes them lovable.

Neither of these options matches the biblical response, however. The Apostle Paul explains how God loves the guilty:

The Law and the Gospel, on the point of justification, are completely contradictory.

Now we know that whatever the law says, it says to those who are under the law, so that every mouth may be silenced and the whole world held accountable to God. Therefore no one will be declared righteous in his sight by observing the law; rather, through the law we become conscious of sin. But now a righteousness from God, apart from law, has been made known, to which the Law and the Prophets testify (Rom. 3:19-21).

First, says the Apostle, there are two kinds of righteousness. Both are of the same quality: perfect conformity to God’s holy character and moral will. But “the righteousness that is by the Law” is the righteousness of God (v. 21). It is synonymous with God’s personal character: “Your eyes are too pure to look on evil; you cannot tolerate wrong” (Hab. 1:13).

“The arrogant cannot stand in your presence. You hate all who do wrong” (Ps. 5:5). The Law is not external to God, but is the revelation of his very person. He is not by nature angry, but he is by nature just, righteous, holy, and true. Thus, he is capable of anger when his character is violated. Furthermore, God is not only righteous in himself, but because this is his universe, he requires righteousness: “For I say unto you, That except your righteousness exceed the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, you shall in no case enter the kingdom of heaven” (Mt. 5:20). “Who shall ascend to the hill of the LORD? or who shall stand in his holy place? He who has clean hands and a pure heart” (Ps. 24:3). That God “looks on the heart” does not come as NOVEMBER/DECEMBER 1997

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good news to those with guilty hearts (Jer. 17:9).4 When Jesus appears, he heightens the perfection required in the Law. Whereas the Pharisees had thought that they had kept God’s commands if they had not externally violated it, Jesus reminded them that the Law required an internal perfection of which they fell far short. God’s righteous nature and righteous requirement leads, when it is violated, to a righteous verdict, as Paul explains in the first two chapters of Romans. As people reject all knowledge of God and truth, they descend into the deepest debauchery and incur an ever-increasing judgment. But lest the Jews—or, for that matter, today’s Christians—boast in their possession of the Law, Paul reminds us that we are all equally condemned (Rom. 2:1-6, 17-24).

Those who proudly tout “Judeo-Christian values” are in no better position before God than the advocates of secularism and perversion. Jesus makes the same point in his parable of the Pharisee and the publican.

The Law condemns, Paul concludes (Rom. 3:5-18).

It offers no way out, no possibility of time off for good behavior. God’s justice is incapable of flexibility or accommodation because he would be less than God if he were to “bend the rules.” As nineteenth-century Princeton theologian Charles Hodge reminds us:

the Bible, “God’s road map for life,” or “The Owner’s Manual,” but this is to say that the Bible is all Law. When churches are impatient with theology and demand “more application,” they are often simply caving in to our natural gravitation toward self-help and away from the cross.

Paul, however, says that the purpose of the Law in this matter of finding peace with God is not to encourage us, but to discourage us, so that we will find ourselves condemned and flee to Christ for safety: “Because no one will be declared righteous in his sight by observing the law; rather, through the law we become conscious of sin.” Thus, the explanation that God loves the guilty by merely reforming them is ruled out entirely.

“Law” can appear as rationalism: If I just know all the right facts.

It can appear as moralism: If I just do the right things. It can appear as emotionalism: If I just have the right feelings. It can appear as sentimentalism: If I just love. This last one was John Wesley’s suggestion. “Perfectionism” had to do not with actions (“mistakes,” as he called them), but with the entire sanctification of the heart so that one loved perfectly. But Jesus tells us that love is the summary of the Law! One cannot be perfect in heart or in love if one continues to sin against God or one’s neighbor.

There is hope, though—the hope that freed a guiltridden Martin Luther. Let us look back to the second of the two kinds of righteousness Paul contrasts: “But now a righteousness from God, apart from law, has been made known, to which the Law and the Prophets testify” (v. 21). If the righteousness that is by law announces that which God is, the righteousness that is by faith announces that which God gives. The Law and the Gospel, on the point of justification, are completely contradictory. The Law commands, with no offers of mercy; the Gospel gives, with no threats of judgment.

Both alternatives to this way of God loving the guilty find this answer perfectly scandalous. Neither the sentimentalist nor the moralist can abide the thought that God actually saves and loves the guilty as guilty. But this is exactly what Paul is saying: The Law rewards those who are perfectly righteous with eternal life; the Gospel freely gives those who are wicked eternal life, even though they are still wicked. Paul announces: “But to him who does not work but believes on him who justifies the ungodly, his faith is accounted for righteousness, just as David also describes the

But God does not

(for he cannot) acquit criminals.

Instead, he justifies them.

This is the office of the Law. It was not designed to give life, but so to convince of sin that men may be led to renounce their own righteousness and trust in the righteousness of Christ as the only and all-sufficient ground of their acceptance with God…. The office of the Law is neither to justify nor to sanctify. It convinces and condemns. All efforts to secure the favour of God, therefore, by obedience must be vain.5 The Law is everything, from Genesis to Revelation, that reveals both God’s righteous character and his will for our lives—whether the Ten Commandments, the Fruit of the Spirit, the Sermon on the Mount, or any other command or exhortation in Scripture. Our nature is to believe in ourselves, and our culture accentuates this heresy, so when we hear a command or an exhortation, our immediate response is, “I can do that.” We are like the plumber who took a look at Niagara Falls and shouted, “Just give me a minute. I can fix it.” We call 8

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blessedness of the man to whom God imputes righteousness apart from works…” (Rom. 4:5-6).

This message has been the scandal of Christianity from the beginning. The Pharisees were offended, the Judaizers were put off by it, Rome anathematized it, and liberal Protestantism scorns it. How can God legally accept a person as already perfectly righteous even though that person continues to sin? Here in Romans 4:1-5, Paul leaves no question. First, this acceptance is granted to a particular sort of person: “To the person who does not work.” Every religious impulse of our fallen heart insists that those who do the right thing will be paid for their labors. But, Paul counters, the Gospel is nothing like that. In fact, “Now to him who works, the wages are not counted as a gift but as a debt” (Rom. 4:4). God will not give anything as a debt, but only as an undeserved gift (Rom. 11:35). All works are hereby excluded, whether of our hands or our heart. Nothing that is produced in us or by us is the Gospel, and this even includes that which God does within us. Not the new birth, not conversion, not deciding to follow Jesus or surrendering all. For in this life, none of us perfectly follows Jesus or surrenders a great deal, much less all.

Even our marvelous g rowth in sanctification is insufficient as an anchor, as it is never a perfect righteousness in this life. Our imperfect sanctification could condemn us as surely as unbelief and rebellion.

“Our righteousness is as filthy rags” (Is. 64:6). We need a perfect righteousness, so it cannot be the product of our own head, hands, or heart. It must be an “alien righteousness,” something put on us. In the words of the hymn “Rock of Ages”: “Not the labor of my hands can fulfill thy law’s demands. Though my zeal no respite know, though my tears forever flow, these for sin cannot atone. Thou must save, and thou alone.”

The person whom God “declares righteous” does not work for it; instead, he “trusts God who justifies the wicked.” It is not just any kind of trusting, nor even trusting in God, that saves. We are justified only by trusting in God’s promise to justify us as wicked sinners.

Not even our faith justifies, but is the empty hand that receives God’s gift and this faith is as much a gift as justification itself. Trusting God “who justifies the wicked” is far more difficult than trusting God who justifies those who are good. It is like someone taking a demolition ball and knocking down the stilts that prop up our religious psyche. It takes everything away from us in order to give us so much more than we could ever have expected (Phil. 3:3-10).

Paul’s word in Romans 4 for “justify” (dikaio) does not mean, “to make righteous,” but “to declare righteous.” Nor does it mean merely “to pardon.” A criminal who is pardoned by the governor is nevertheless not said to be justified. If you are a criminal, it is easy

to trust a judge who acquits criminals. That simply means that he is lenient. But God does not (for he cannot) acquit criminals. Instead, he justifies them. He does not let them go even though he still considers them guilty; he declares them righteous, so that as far as justice is concerned, they have perfectly satisfied all requirements of the law. But God only justifies the wicked. He does not justify the righteous.

At the end of it all, God’s saving work in Christ serves “to demonstrate at the present time [God’s] righteousness, that he might be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus” (Rom. 3:26). As the hymn writer Augustus Toplady put it, “Nothing in my hands I bring, simply to the cross I cling.”6 Thus, God does not acquit the wicked. Nor does he love us “just as we are,” nor even in view of what he will make of us one day, but only as we are “in Christ.”

He does not—cannot—simply “let bygones be bygones.” Instead, he does something much greater: He justifies the wicked. He actually declares them to be something that they are not within their own hearts and lives. God loves his Son unconditionally and in the Son so too are we loved. Draped in the blood-bought righteousness of the Lamb of God, we are far more than “let off ” by divine carelessness; we are joint-heirs with Christ in all that he possesses. From this fountain of every blessing we are given not only the freedom from the guilt of our sins, but from the terrible bondage of our sins, so that we may be moved by divine mercy from guilt to grace to gratitude. In the comforting words of C. S. Lewis, “Though our feelings come and go, His love for us does not. It is not wearied by our sins, or our indifference; and, therefore, it is quite relentless in its determination that we shall be cured of those sins, at whatever cost to us, at whatever cost to Him.” MR

Michael S. Horton, vice-chairman of the Council of the Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals, is a research fellow at Yale Divinity School and co-pastor of Christ Reformed Church (CRC) in Placentia, California.

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Guilt and Compassion: OLDTESTAMENT VERSUS NEWTESTAMENT? TREMPER LONGMAN III

I remember vividly a movie I saw in the early 1970s that illustrates this common misconception. It was called The Ruling Class, and starred Peter O’Toole. At the movie’s beginning, Jack, the character played by O’Toole, thought he was Jesus, and he treated everyone with great kindness and benign generosity. The theme of the movie was that someone like Jesus could not survive in contemporary society, and so Jack was consigned to a mental institution.

The most interesting scene came in the middle of the movie where another patient who thought he was Yahweh, the God of the Old Testament, was introduced to Jack.

This patient was abrupt, rude, and violent, the stereotype of what most people, even some Christians, think today of the Old Testament God. He promoted guilt in those with whom he interacted, while Jack, the Jesus figure, left only good feelings behind.

Does the Bible view God with this dichotomy? Is guilt an exclusively “Old Testament thing”? Hardly— 10

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neither is compassion and forgiveness a purely “New Testament thing.” The Old Testament God is not an arbitrary, dark figure, and Jesus is not all flowers and light.

Yahweh never lightly nor arbitrarily punished anyone. On the contrary, the witness of the Old Testament is consistently that he is a “merciful and gracious God … slow to anger and rich in unfailing love and faithfulness…” (Ex. 34:6). He punished only after repeated rebellion and insistent warnings. And he always had a heart for his people’s salvation even when they grossly offended him.

Perhaps the most powerful passage in this regard is presented by the prophet Hosea. In the context of Israel’s repeated sins, God determines that the time has come to follow through on his repeated threats to punish them.

But as he does, he reveals his heart in a startling way.

Hosea reports God saying the following rending words: “Oh, how can I give you up, Israel? How can I let you go?

How can I destroy you like Admah and Zeboiim? My heart is torn within me, and my compassion overflows. No, I will not punish you as much as my burning anger tells me to. I will not completely destroy Israel, for I am God and not a mere mortal. I am the Holy One living among you, and I will not come to destroy” (Hosea 11:8-9).

It is hard to maintain the view that the Old Testament God is a heartless despot in the light of this Corey Wilkinson, scratchboard

Stereotypes concerning the Bible abound in this day of near biblical illiteracy. One of the most pernicious is the idea that the Old Testament God is a severe, judgmental old man, while the New Testament presents this God’s happier and more mellow son. Violence, judgment, and guilt emanate from the Old Testament; love, tolerance, and good feelings from the New.

MODERN REFORMATION

speech. Don’t misunderstand, however, he does judge in this instance; his compassion holds him back from complete eradication. Hosea was speaking as a prelude to the first great judgment on the people of God—the defeat of the ten northern tribes by Assyria in 722 B.C. They had sinned, and they would suffer for their unrepentant guilt. But this judgment should be held in tension with the equally strong picture of God’s compassion in the Old Testament, a compassion that starts with the fact that humanity survived its first rebellion in the Garden.

As the Old Testament God is not a bully, so Jesus Christ is hardly an icon of passivity. He did not let people sin and get away with it.

A scene which captures well Christ’s connection with the divine judgment of the Old Testament is the cleansing of the Temple.

Jesus goes to the Temple, sees that it has been devoted to illegitimate commerce, and is totally outraged. Taking a whip, he forcibly drives the money changers out.

The scene inspires the Gospel writer to see a parallel with the psalmist’s sentiment when he declared that “passion for God’s house burns within me” (John 2:17, quoting Ps. 69:9).

Even a superficial reading of the Old and New Testaments disabuses us of the idea that the Old Testament God was a stern judge, while the New Testament God was completely open and tolerant.

Unfortunately, the stereotype can live on because even surface readings of the Bible are a rarity these days.

The stereotype has a positive reinforcement because many people’s real agenda is not accurate description of the Testaments’ theology but rather to discover ways to undermine the concept and feelings of guilt. If we can relegate guilt to a primitive past, then we can rationalize our attempts to ignore or inoculate ourselves against such dark, inhibiting feelings.

I remember the advice an older cousin gave me when I hit adolescence: “There is no sexual act which should make you feel guilty. If it is unnatural, you can’t physically do it. If you can get your body to do it, it is natural.” I thank God I did not believe him then, even though he was one of the city’s leading psychiatrists.

Contemporary culture is going through a crisis of doubt concerning its own feelings about guilt these days.

On the one hand, like my cousin, society wants to rid itself of those nasty next-morning feelings that restrain us from pursuing our lusts. But, on the other hand, the

lessons of contemporary society have also produced predators who kill with no apparent remorse. As cultural critic Christopher Lasch describes in his book The Revolt of the Elites and the Betrayal of Democracy, they “have nothing to look forward to in the way of a future, they are deaf to the claims of pr udence, let alone conscience.”1 In response, it is not unusual these days to see appeals to restore feelings of responsibility and remorse in our children.

However, German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, one dead white male who is still having a huge impact in our society, pointed out that if God is dead or even impotent then guilt is “bad faith.” It is based on nothing. If there is no absolute truth, no final standard, then who or what can judge me guilty?

One of the messages of the whole Bible, Old and New Testament, is that there is a person who holds us accountable.

God’s will is absolute, and infringement brings guilt and judgment.

Here it is important to see that guilt in the Bible is first and foremost a legal term.

We tend to think of it as a feeling.

We can feel no remorse but be horribly guilty, on the one hand; or we can feel remorse and not be guilty.

Indeed, there is both true guilt and false guilt, and this does not always square with our feelings. We should not confuse the legal state with the emotion. Perhaps we should be more consistent in our use of two different terms to describe the two: guilt for the legal state and shame for the emotion.

Of course, the biblical ideal is that we feel shame for true guilt. And, not only does the Bible teach us, but our own experience shows us that we are all guilty before God. The law of God, according to Paul (Gal. 3:15-29) is a schoolmaster, whose purpose is to show us how bad we are, in order that we might flee to Christ to find forgiveness.

And here is the ultimate irony. In our attempt to escape the ugly feelings of shame, we try to eviscerate any standard of guilt. But by doing so, we end up obscuring the only avenue to true forgiveness, Jesus Christ.

Some years ago, the movie Flatliners told the story of four young medical students who flaunt ethical conventions by experimenting with near-death experiences. When they return from their self-induced death after four or five minutes, they feel exhilarated.

Soon, however, those positive feelings give way to vivid remembrances of past sins which come back to haunt continued on page 17

Yahweh never lightly nor

arbitrarily punished anyone.

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The Guilt-HeavyTheology of Cotton Mather: WHERE WAS GOD’STENDER MERCY? RACHEL S. STAHLE half a year, of more than five thousand persons that have undergone it, near nine hundred have died.”4 No doubt Mather and his contemporaries, in the American colonies and in Europe, endured suffering on a scale no longer seen in the West.

Children were especially vulnerable.5 We can assume based on extant documents and family burial g rounds that the infant mor tality rate was quite high, though formal records for infants were not kept. “From the moment Cotton Mather’s generation at they were old enough to pay the dawn of the eighteenth century attention children were repeatedly Massachusetts Puritan theologian was certainly no different. New instr ucted regarding the Cotton Mather (1663–1728) England’s intimate acquaintance with precariousness of their existence.” 6 affliction came in part through human agency, as in the Instead of being a “guilt trip” or a ploy to trick children military exploits undertaken by the British and French, into religious conversion, this practice reflected the and in the “Indian” raids which culminated in King simple truth that many children never saw adulthood.

Philip’s War, which killed proportionately more than Mather himself was no stranger to suffering and death would any subsequent American war.1 Indeed, during in this regard. Of his fourteen children, seven died soon that particular conflict, towns were so completely after birth, one died aged two years, and five others died devastated that they were often abandoned, if there were in their twenties. Only Samuel survived his father. even survivors, and never rebuilt.2 Apart from infant deaths, nearly all Mather’s losses came But equally devastating were “acts of nature”: due to smallpox; after his first wife Abigail died of it in earthquakes; ten tremendous fires which consumed 1702, he cried nearly every day to the extent that he hundreds of structures each; famine and drought; a “feared his eyes were thus being weakened.”7 flood which decimated the Boston Harbor region; and, Given this historical background, it remains for us to most significantly, four smallpox plagues. During the see how Mather explained such suffering, what theological smallpox epidemic of 1677-78, about twenty percent of framework he constructed for himself and his congregation Boston’s population of 11,000 perished. “In but one who encountered such dreadful circumstances. Mather’s day, on September 30, 1677, thirty people had died — theology began with sin. He regarded sin as not only a the proportional equivalent of more than sixty thousand personal rejection of the one true, holy God, but as a New Yorkers today.” 3 During another epidemic in breach of divine contract as well. Sin offended the 1722, Mather wrote, “The distemper has lately visited covenanting God who brought the Nonconformists from and ransacked the city of Boston, and in little more than England to this land of milk and honey, the New Israel.8

Suffering and death have evoked wails and questions of “Why?” in every age since Job. One need only scan the pages of today’s newspapers or watch the nightly news to witness crushing pain and turmoil. Whether the distress is a result of human brutality or nature’s cruelty, the outrage and sense of tragedy we feel leads us to consider once again the role of God in our riddle-filled existence.

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Mather saw in his era a rebelliousness, an ungratefulness to God, which reflected a failure on Boston’s part to give a proper answer to all she had been given from heaven. He was not shy in condemning the decay around him. “Ale-Houses are Hell-Houses!” is a typical example of his candor.9 In his sermon “Advice from the Watch Tower,” he mentions “A Black List of some EVIL CUSTOMES,” including frolicking on the Lord’s Day evenings, games such as cards and dice, lack of sobriety at weddings, and the irreverent imitation of baptism in the “christenings” of boats and ships.10 He continues, “It is to be fear’d, that because of Swearing, the Land may mourn” due to impending judgment from God.11 He complains about betting on horses, usury, and people who “Run into Debt when they have no Rational prospect of getting out … .”12 And “To Sleep in the Publick Worship of God, is a thing too frequently and easily Practised, by very many People … .”13 Modern sensibilities may find his objections to these behaviors quaint or hypersensitive, but the Puritans’ respect and diligent concern for holy living puts our era, and even many Christians, to shame.

Mather’s most common complaints condemn the consumption of excessive amounts of alcohol, “the Liquor of Death in the Bottel”;14 the importation, bondage, and failure to evangelize and educate the “Ethiopians”;15 and, above all others, neglecting to observe the Sabbath. In a sermon he preached during a terrible storm which flooded many sections of Boston, he stated, “LET the Distraction which this Day makes the LORD’S DAY a Day of so little Rest unto us, cause us to Examine how poorly we have Sabbatized at other times.”16 As would be expected, he appeals to Scripture for the foundation of his all-important doctrine of Sabbatarianism: I fear, I fear there are many among us, to whom it may be said, Ye bring wrath upon Boston, by prophaning the Sabbath. And what Wrath? Ah, Lord, prevent it! But there is an awful Sentence in Jer. 17.27. If ye will not hearken unto me, to sanctifie the Sabbath Day, then will I kindle a Fire on the Town, and it shall Devour, and shall not be Quenched.17 Regardless of whether one agrees with Mather’s Sabbatarianism, clearly he joins other Puritans in emphasizing the cause/effect framework of sin and its consequences. Mather is keenly aware of the social deterioration which results from a relaxed sense of morality. Whether this laxity was manifest in Boston by swearing, sleeping, or neglecting the Sabbath, he was diligent to have his city, what remained of the “New Jerusalem,” obey the commands of God. In all the various ways Boston strayed from the narrow path, Mather saw either impending or fulfilled divine retribution.

THE SOLACE OF CORPORATE CONFESSION Among the many fine letters we have received recently were the following two comments by pastors reflecting on the benefits of a local church confessing its sins corporately. In light of the destructive effects of Mather’s highly individualized theory of guilt, we think these two comments serve as helpful pastoral correctives. — MR I have been a minister in a nonliturgical denomination for twenty-five years. When I visit liturgical churches, I am impressed with the theological differences between worship services that begin with a corporate confession of sins and church services that end with an altar call.

The corporate confession reminds us that we are all sinners who need God’s g race and forgiveness. The altar call practice I am accustomed to instead urges individuals to single themselves out as sinners especially needing the prayers of the congregation for forgiveness.

Prayers during the church services in my tradition often include general statements of confession and petitions for forgiveness. But such prayers are somehow not considered to “count” as much as a trip down the aisle. This mentality leaves the impression that unless one is penitent enough to embarrass oneself publicly, repentance is not genuine and pardon is not assured. This practice is reminiscent of medieval notions of forgiveness meritoriously secured by humiliation and penance.

Of course, even in corporate confession followed by a declaration of forgiveness, there is a similar danger of viewing the fulfillment of the requirement of repentance meritoriously.

Although repentance is ethically superior to impenitence, we must always keep in mind what repentance is—not a claim of righteousness, but an admission of sinfulness.

Altar calls that invite non-Christians to believe and accept the Gospel bear some resemblance to appeals made at the end of missionary sermons in the book of Acts. But most responses to altar calls today are from Christians who come forward to confess their sins and rededicate their lives to

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God. Appeals designed to elicit such responses from church members assembled for worship have no biblical precedent, but are instead derived from questionable practices of nineteenth-century revivalism.

Corporate confession unites the congregation by impressing upon us our common need for divine grace, as we together acknowledge our sinfulness and dependence on God’s mercy. The altar call ritual that urges individual Christians to come down to the front and confess sins implies that the congregation is divided into two spiritual classes: the “faithful” members who are not sufficiently sinful to need to make a public confession and the “unfaithful” members whose sins require a special remedy at the modern sacrament of the mourners’ bench.

Several practical problems are created by the altar call method of confession. The whole process is complicated by psychological differences among people. Some who are truly penitent find coming down the aisle an insurmountable hurdle.

Others seem all too eager to come forward and receive the hugs and praise showered on them for their recommitment to Jesus.

Typically, the wrong people respond to the invitation song. Some come forward and confess before the congregation sins such as having failed to read their Bibles enough. Others whose sins are bringing public reproach on the church continue to stand at their pews and sing away. If the sins of members need to be dealt with publicly, the church should take the initiative along the expulsive lines prescribed in 1 Corinthians 5 (if not 1 Timothy 5:20).

Public confessions by individuals can do more harm than good, as in the case of a teenager’s confession that revealed his parents were having marital problems. His parents could no doubt resolve their difficulties more successfully with private pastoral counseling without the complications of public revelation. Confessions can even turn into accusations, as when a woman confessed her sin of impatience with her difficult husband. If everybody at church didn’t already know her husband was a jerk, they did then, at least in her eyes.

Those who feel the need to make confession of

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Smallpox was to him “one of those New Scourges whereof there are Several, which the Holy and Righteous God has inflicted on a Sinful World.”18 The great fire of October 1711 was another case of judgment: “Sirs, Our God has come, and has not kept Silence, when the Fire Devoured before Him … My Sermon is but a Repetition … .” 19 And using the earthquake which occurred in Jamaica on August 4, 1692, as a warning against Boston’s “Dangerous Transgressions,” he prophesies, “Ah, Boston, beware, beware, lest the Sins of Sodom get footing in thee! … If you know of any Scandalous Disorders in the Town, do all you can to suppress them, and redress them … . But beware, I beseech you, of those provoking Evils that may expose us to a Plague … .” 20 So discouraged and repulsed was Mather that he wrote on January 5, 1723, that New England “is indeed become so distempered and so degenerate, that I am often under Elias’s juniper; yea, often sighing, woe is me that I sojourn in Boston, and that I dwell in the tents of New England!”21 Mather’s discouragement was not without its recourse. Though it is easy to suppose from his sermons that he had given up hope for Boston’s spiritual renewal, he does to some extent present the Gospel message, the hope of salvation in Christ, in every sermon. His preaching on personal affliction took two forms: either judgment or salvation in Christ for the unregenerate, and the possibility of sanctification for suffering believers.

Affliction upon the Unregenerate Mather’s preaching to unbelievers stressed two themes: the imperative necessity for sincere repentance and faith in Jesus Christ, and the severe consequences of rejecting the Gospel call. But his preaching greatly emphasized the latter theme. Suffering was a wake-up call for conversion, a punishment for sin, and—should the sinner choose to continue to sleep in his depravity— grounds for him to be condemned to hell. Mather used this threatening picture of hell, not love for Christ, as the central motivational factor for belief. The preacher does not call sinners to devotion and obedience through recognition and adoration of Christ’s holiness and goodness, as much as frighten them by threats of horrible eternal suffering.22 One might suppose that Mather avoided positive preaching because of his view of depravity. After all, a sinner must become aware of his sin before he sees his need for redemption. But while Mather is generally consistent with Calvinism’s views of depravity, he slights its stance on mercy and grace. The God who has kindly condescended to elect and redeem sinners through the incarnation, death, and resurrection of Christ is overshadowed by Mather’s unbalanced portrayal of a grim God of judgment. His error was emphasizing MODERN REFORMATION

hellish torment, while neglecting the hope found in God’s mercy and grace.23 Addressing sufferers of smallpox, he writes, “There is a Poison Within thee, the Poison of an Evil Heart which departs from the Living God … . All the nasty Pustules which now fill thy Skin, are but Little Emblems of the Errors which thy Life has been filled Withal.”24 In his mother’s funeral sermon, he states, “Truly, Sinners have the Wrath of God abiding on them, and … are serving diverse Lusts, and … are held by Satan in the Chains of Death, [and] are in the way that leads down to a Devouring Fire, and Everlasting Burnings… .”25 And finally, he describes the unsaved soul as “A Soul that sees GOD Angry with it, Hell gaping for it, the Devils ready to seize upon it; and a Devouring Fire and Everlasting Burnings assign’d unto it; surely such a Soul is in an Horrible Tempest!” 26 Though the doctrine of hell is theologically proper within Calvinism, the harshness Mather uses, at the expense of proclaiming the mercy and grace which answer God’s perfect justice, is not.

Affliction upon the Regenerate Mather’s preaching to Christians was often inspiring and thoughtful, but it was also deeply theologically flawed. He believed that believers’ suffering fell into one of three theological categories. Sometimes believers suffer simply because they are Christians. Other times, they may suffer blamelessly, just because they exist in a fallen world. Lastly they may suffer because of their own sins, falling away from the nar row path by developing evil habits.27 The practical difficulty lies in how to distinguish among these options. A smallpox sufferer could receive any of these responses from Mather. “Child of GOD, Thy Humiliations are only to Do thee Good in the Latter End!”28 Or, “A Languishing Body and a Prospering Soul may dwell together … [T]he Prosperity found in the Soul of this Excellent Man, might be very much owing to his feeble and crazy constitution.”29 He might remind the sufferer that Christ, the one who suffered and died on a cross, does not promise his followers earthly prosperity.

Rather, “The People among whom the Covenant of the Gospel is most adher’d unto, see much more Temporal Adversity, than many People who pay very little Regard unto it.”30 To one dying he might say, “When you feel yoursel[f] brought by Him to the Brink of the Grave, you may hear Him saying unto you, Do not fear to go down, I will surely bring thee up again.”31 But Mather might also suspect sickness brought on by a lack of piety. He states, “Upon the occasion of SICKNESS on myself, I sett myself to consider PIETY, and the Effects of it, under the Notion of An HEALED SOUL.”32 He could continue, “What are Sicknesses, but the Rods, wherewith GOD corrects His own offending

nonpublic sins should confess them privately to a minister or an elder who has the wisdom to offer mature spiritual advice and the discretion to keep confidences. Public confessions are sometimes simply inappropriate, as was one I witnessed recently, when someone confessed a sin against a family member to the entire congregation instead of going to the offended family member.

Another problem with altar call confessions is whether those who respond should confess particular sins or simply confess that they have sinned. If specific sins are not confessed, people’s imaginations fill in the blanks. If specific sins are confessed, the process can turn into a testimonial event that sometimes resembles sleazy TV talk shows that traffic in the parading of human depravity.

Most people’s sins have never been spectacular enough to make “good” testimonials. However, the words of the prayers in traditional corporate confessions are more than enough to convict us all of our sins and our need for God’s grace: “We have sinned against Thee in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. We have failed to love Thee with all our being and to love our neighbors as ourselves.”

When the climax of the church assembly is the human response to the invitation song at the conclusion of the preacher’s sermon, the nature of the service is changed. The horizontal is emphasized at the expense of the vertical. The focus is on man rather than on the great drama of God’s grace in Christ received through Word and Sacrament. The result is that church services are no longer primarily assemblies for the worship of God; they are an endless series of mini-revivals.

The difference between the corporate confession and the altar call is the difference between healthy spiritual maintenance and a yoyo spirituality in which repeated lapses and rededications tend to become viewed as the norm.

Emphasis on public rededication leaves the impression that forgiveness and salvation are implemented by human moral striving. God’s grace and pardon are mediated to us not by our own spiritual commitments and recommitments, but by the Mediator of our salvation who intercedes for us with the Father.

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Each Lord’s Day every worshiper should confess his sins and rededicate his life to God’s service. It is far better to confess our sinfulness corporately than to indulge in perpetual revivalism with its manipulative abuses and fleeting emotionalism. Let us all kneel in penitent faith before our merciful Creator, receive His forgiveness, and then gratefully worship Him with “clean hands and a pure heart” (Ps. 24:4).

Sola gratia. Solus Christus. Soli Deo gloria.

Lewis Kash Church of Christ Beaumont, Texas

As a Calvin Seminary student interning in a local congregation for the summer, I had the freedom to experiment with liturgy. I included corporate prayers of confession from Calvin, Knox, Baxter, and the Anglican Books of Common Prayer until 1928, and Presbyterian Books of Common Worship until the mid-1950s.

The great advantage of these corporate prayers is that not only are people confessing their sins, they are also hearing themselves claim the promises of the Gospel for themselves. And such a weekly reminder has been of great comfort and assurance to many in the congregation that our salvation is found outside of ourselves.

There is, however, a disadvantage in the length of the older prayers. Yes, more theology is packed within them, but they get tedious, and even repetitious at times. If people are going to “blow-off ” the meditations within the more lengthy prayers, they are of little value.

I have found the strong, yet succinct corporate prayer of confession to be a great asset in the liturgies I write, and if one person is converted through the hearing of the Gospel promises, then I can say they have been fruitful.

Jeff Voorhees Pastoral Intern Bethel Christian Reformed Church Newmarket, Ontario

Children?”33 And since “Tis possible, that a Godly person may be unawares overtaken with an Evil Custome,” I must take pause about how well I have been serving the Lord.34 He might conclude, “Yea, O Christian, Lett all thy Pains be so many Spurs, to quicken thy Pace in the Race of Christianity: And Lett them hasten thee into those Dispositions of PIETY, which will be rich Compensations for all that thou mayst Suffer from them.”35 Indeed, piety is the best remedy, for “The Rational Soul in its Reflections has Powerful and Wonderful Influences on the Nishmath-Chajim.”36 How then can one determine which of Mather’s explanations for suffering applies? One can only speculate what the pastoral implications were for it in his congregation. His answer was self-examination. “There is a Self-examination incumbent upon All Men: Upon Sick Men it is peculiarly incumbent.”37 And the suffering one must not only examine himself for sin, but must go so far as to question the legitimacy of his faith. Mather states, “Ah, my Afflicted Neighbour, Thou art yet in thy Sins … Divine Patience is affronted in it, when Afflicted People prove Incorrigible.”38 Mather tells the smallpox patient to pursue “Self-Abhorrence, and Self-Abasement.”39 If self-examination reveals an evil custom, he responds, “Oh! Be sensible of the Evil that is in it. Confess it, Bewayl it, Bitterly mourn for it before the Lord.”40 Such views betray a doctrine of grace inconsistent with Mather’s professed Calvinism. Compare Mather and Calvin on the matter of weakness of faith. For Mather, suffering should lead to self-examination, and then ultimately to a subjective evaluation of the sufficiency of one’s faith. For Calvin, weakness of faith is the Christian experience. As such, God invites us to his objective table; giving us the Sacrament, “by which the Lord seals on our consciences the promises of his good will toward us in order to sustain the weakness of our faith… .”41 His instr uction for self-examination can be biblically supported as a healthy sign of spiritual awareness and sensitivity.42 But when applied as a litmus test for “sufficiency” of faith, it logically requires that every ache and pain could be a divine punishment.

Where is God’s grace in Mather’s theology to assure the sick that their sins have been cast as far away as the east is from the west? Mather’s subjective measure for piety is inconsistent with Calvinism’s emphasis upon the objective Word. Mather is correct in observing that godly people will suffer in this world, just as Christ and Paul and Job did. But in purporting this concept of self-examination, he is guilty of every error for which Job’s friends were rebuked.

The Conclusion and Beginning of Suffering Implicit in every aspect of Mather’s theology of

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suffering and death is the assumption of a climactic end to history in the Second Coming of Christ and Judgment Day. Only in heaven or hell will body and soul be established in their eternal state, whether that be utterly pure of disease or utterly corrupted. Only in heaven or hell, Mather’s “Invisible World,” will the body and soul enjoy the eternal fellowship of the Kingdom of God in His Presence, or endure eternal, just torment in a state of banishment from all goodness and pleasure.

Only in heaven will a perfect corporate ethic exist, and thrive. Yet in hell, corporate existence will be as fragmented as the broken souls of its inhabitants.

Mather warns, “Souls, Get into Good Terms with your Great SAVIOUR. In the Invisible World, on the edges whereof you ever stand, and at the approaching Death which will transmit you into it, you will see the marvellous Consequences.”43 Mather achieved terrific success in convincing his audience of its guilt, its terrible need for deliverance.

But his success came at the expense of a distorted view of God. Speaking from the perspective of an unrepentant sinner, Mather writes, “The Terrible God, at whose Rebuke the Everlasting Rocks are tumbled down, … is such an Adversary to me, that if I do not agree quickly with Him, never ceasing Tormentors [demons] will take me into their unpitying hands.”44 And referring to God’s “dreadful rumbling Thunderclaps” in John 3:36, he states, “And many more such Threats and Menaces does He roar out of Sion with, wherein the smoke of the Fire and Brimstone reserved in a hot Hell for the Portion of Unbelievers is blown under the Nostrils of men.” 45 Listeners were left in the midst of their suffering, facing death, with Mather’s distant, unapproachable “King of Terrors” for a God.46 Mather didn’t always leave his audience in a thoroughly bleak condition; occasionally he reminds them that only Christ is able to deliver them from their horrid condition. For the Christian, “There is no Dying, but an Entring into Everlasting Life.”47 But by and large, Mather’s works are dominated by images of “the Day of the Lord that shall burn like an Oven.”48 When in 1727 scores died in a barn fire in “Cambridge-shire,” rather than comforting his fellow Bostonians and mourning their loss, he wrote, “Why may not the Hundred and Eighteen that perished … be shown unto the World, as a Type, of what shall be done to many Millions, in the CONFLAGRATION, which is to come… ?”49 Chiefly because of suffering’s inexorable ties to sin in Mather’s theology, we see a raging, fiery God whose gentleness and compassion for humanity are generally absent. Mather’s God seems more about the business of torturing unbelievers and punishing his children, than demonstrating his glory through the redemption of his elect and the efficacy of their sanctification. Time and

time again he highlights God’s fury, instead of celebrating God’s majesty and grandeur in his redeeming anyone at all. Surely Cotton Mather understood God’s holiness, and how dreadfully offensive human transgressions are to the Lord of the Universe. But he failed to convey to his audience a counter-balancing understanding of God’s might—the might which mercifully claims hearts for his own service through the enduring power of love. It is love which Mather’s God lacks: love for the people whom he has created and preserved, redeemed and sanctified, all for his good pleasure. MR

Rachel Stahle, a graduate of Grove City College and Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary, is a Ph.D. candidate in theology at Boston University. Her current dissertation work involves the revival theology of Jonathan Edwards.

continued from page 11 them. One character discovers the path to redemption: asking the offended party for forgiveness. He finds the little girl, now a woman, whom he persecuted in the schoolyard. After he asks her forgiveness he finds peace; his psyche no longer tortures him.

The problem with the movie, however, is that it stops short. As the psalmist relates in Psalm 51, the title informing us that it was composed by David after Nathan confronted him with his sin of adultery, “against you, and you alone, have I sinned; I have done what is evil in your sight” (v. 4).

We will not escape guilt by simply willing it away.

The irony is that we must first embrace our guilt—that is, acknowledge it—before restoration can come. We must flee to the one whom we have so grossly offended, because he is the only one who can heal us: “So now there is no condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus. For the power of the life-giving Spirit has freed you through Christ Jesus from the power of sin that leads to death” (Rom. 8:1-2; The New Living Translation). Only in Christ is there true forgiveness. MR

Tremper Longman III is Professor and Chairman of Old Testament at Westminster Theological Seminary in Philadelphia.

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Guiltless Good News

THEDEFORMEDTHEOLOGYOFSEEKERSENSITIVITY DON MATZAT

Many evangelical churches, including many who find their roots in the Reformation, have attempted to Christianize such thought. They have adopted the concept of seeker sensitivity in the desire to grow their churches. The gurus of the Church Growth movement have convinced many pastors and church leaders that we must be sensitive to the felt needs of the culture. Thus seeker sensitivity has become the sine qua non of church growth and success.

When you join a culture permeated with the desire for self-esteem and a church seduced by the concept of seeker sensitivity, you create a diabolical mix. Such a combination demands that the Christian message be adjusted. The felt need for self-esteem is not compatible with the biblical concept of human sin and depravity. The concept of human sin, or what has been called the church’s “worm theology,” is actually detrimental to the sensitive human psyche. Dr. Robert Schuller, a self-esteem advocate and pioneer in developing the concept of seeker sensitivity, put it this way: I don’t think that anything has been done in the name of Christ and under the banner of Christianity that has proven more destructive to human personality, and hence counterproductive to the evangelistic enterprise, than the unchristian, uncouth strategy of attempting to make people aware of their lost and sinful condition.1

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Rob Zeller, scratchboard

We are living in a society permeated with the concept of self-esteem. The gurus of humanistic psychology have convinced us that feeling good about ourselves is one of our basic felt needs. A positive self-image has become the sine qua non of human growth and success.

Since the central Christian message offers the death of Jesus Christ on the cross as the divine solution to the human sin dilemma, the elimination of the clear proclamation of human sin and depravity demands a major adjustment in the preaching of Christ. The basic, central message of the Gospel must be redefined. To claim that our sins caused the death of Jesus can be potentially debilitating to the impressionable human psyche pursuing a sense of self-worth. The pitiable inner child may become hopelessly bruised and beaten by such an insensitive message. This is how Dr. Ray MODERN REFORMATION

Anderson, a professor at Fuller Theological Seminary, put it: If our sin is viewed as causing the death of Jesus on the cross, then we ourselves become victims of a “psychological battering” produced by the cross. When I am led to feel that the pain and torment of Jesus’ death on the cross is due to my sin, I inflict upon myself spiritual and psychological torment.2 For those seduced by the concept of seeker sensitivity, Jesus can no longer be the suffering servant bearing the sins of fallen humanity to a bloody cross.

Such a message is irrelevant. One highly successful seeker sensitive center near Chicago has chosen not to display a cross in their sanctuary. To this group’s way of thinking, Jesus is not primarily our Savior who died to forgive our sins; rather, he is our friend who helps us make it through the day. He is our example for living.

He meets our felt needs. He wants us to become better people and in order to do that, gives us principles whereby we can improve our family relationships, put our finances in order, and live more productive and successful lives. “Oh, how we love Jesus!”

To illustrate how far this way of thinking deviates from the understanding that characterized the sixteenthcentury Reformation, compare the statements of Schuller and Anderson with statements by the two great Reformers: Martin Luther and John Calvin.

In defining the purpose of meditating upon the passion of our Lord Jesus, Luther wrote: The main benefit of Christ’s passion is that man sees into his own true self and that he be terrified and crushed by this. Unless we seek that knowledge, we do not derive much benefit from Christ’s passion… . He who is so hardhearted and callous as not to be terrified by Christ’s passion and led to a knowledge of self has reason to fear.3 If John Calvin were alive today, this is the assessment he would make of those who eliminate the message of human depravity under the guise of appealing to the culture: I am not unaware how much more plausible the view is, which invites us rather to ponder on our good qualities than to contemplate what must overwhelm us with shame—our miserable destitution and ignominy. There is nothing more acceptable to the human mind than flattery… . Whoever, therefore, gives heed to those teachers

who merely employ us in contemplating our good qualities … will be plunged into the most pernicious ignorance.

(Italics added).4 Sin Has Never Been Popular It is a gross fallacy to suggest that this culture, in its quest for self-esteem, is unique. The Christian Church has always been confronted with unbelievers who want to feel good about themselves and who work very hard at avoiding any personal guilt or blame. This is certainly not new to this culture. Being victimized and playing the “blame game” is as old as Adam getting out from under his guilt by blaming the woman, and, of course, Eve blaming the snake. Being born “in Adam,” such a defense mechanism is natural to fallen humanity. Swiss therapist Paul Tournier writes: “In a healthy person … this defense mechanism has the precision and universality of a law of nature… . We defend ourselves against criticism with the same energy we employ in defending ourselves against hunger, cold, or wild beasts, for it is a mortal threat.”5 For this reason, the thinking of those who are willing to jettison the truth of human sin and depravity in favor of seeker sensitivity is inane. They act as if they have discovered some new technique for reaching people.

It is obvious that people do not want to be confronted with their sin and failure. If you can create a “religious” environment in which they can be made to feel good about themselves, you will gain a crowd. To stand in awe of the numbers who flock to seeker sensitive congregations is similar to standing in awe of the crowds who frequent casinos or buy lottery tickets. Having more money is also a felt need.

Appealing to the felt needs of a fallen culture is not appealing to their real needs. French philosopher Blaise Pascal explained: As soon as we venture out along the pathway of self-knowledge, what we discover is that man is desperately trying to avoid self-knowledge. The need to escape oneself explains why many people are miserable when they are not preoccupied with work, or amusement, or vices.

They are afraid to be alone lest they get a glimpse of their own emptiness… . For if we could face ourselves, with all our faults, we would then be so shaken out of complacency, triviality, indifference, and pretense that a deep longing for strength and truth would be aroused within us. Not until man is aware of his deepest need is he ready to discern and grasp what can meet his deepest need.6 This diabolical combination of self-esteem and NOVEMBER/DECEMBER 1997

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seeker sensitivity produces a “religion” that is no longer Christianity. Since proclaiming the message of sin and grace, or Law and Gospel, is the very essence of the faith, eliminating or subordinating that proclamation causes a departure from historic Christianity. But more than that, the forgiveness and eternal salvation of the people who are seduced by the appealing seeker sensitive message are put in jeopardy. The success of a Christian congregation is not determined by how many fill the pews on a Sunday morning but rather how many will eventually gather around the table to celebrate eternally the marriage feast of the Lamb who was slain for the forgiveness of sins.

preaching of the Law, which is intended to show us the depth of our sin, presents us with an impossible plight.

What God demands, we cannot accomplish. The Good News of the Gospel tells us that what God demands he has provided in the blood and righteousness of Jesus Christ. The proper preaching of sin and grace or Law and Gospel should turn us away from ourselves so that we embrace the perfect righteousness of Jesus Christ as the divine solution to the human dilemma. This is the central truth of justification by grace through faith because of Christ alone. Werner Elert defines Luther’s understanding of the knowledge of sin as being a necessary precondition for justification.

The Right Combination of Guilt and Grace It is the Holy Spirit’s central purpose to bring every person to a knowledge of sin through the proclamation of the divine Law so that the message of God’s grace in Christ Jesus (the Gospel) can be applied to those suffering the pangs of guilt. The Apostle Paul writes in Romans 3:19: “Now we know that whatever the law says, it says to those who are under the law, so that every mouth may be silenced and the whole world held accountable to God.” Again he writes in Romans 5:20: “The law was added so that the trespass might increase. But where sin increased, grace increased all the more.” The proclamation of the Good News of what God has done for us in Christ Jesus is, so to speak, “set up” by the knowledge of our own sinful condition.

Martin Luther wrote:

The righteousness impar ted through justification presupposes, of course, the “selfaccusation” of the sinner. Accordingly, Luther counts it among the effects of Christ’s suffering “that man comes to a knowledge of himself and is terrified of himself, and is crushed. To have Christ as Savior is to need him.” …

The necessity for self-accusation, without which there is no justification, holds true of the whole natural and moral “inwardness” … . Faith however clings constantly only to the other Person—the Person who I am not—to Christ.8

To stand in awe of the numbers who flock to seeker sensitive congregations is similar to standing in awe of the crowds who frequent casinos or buy lottery tickets. Having more money is also a felt need.

A doctor must first diagnose the sickness for his patient; otherwise he will give him poison instead of medicine. First he must say: this is your sickness; secondly: this medicine serves to fight it … . If you want to engage profitably in the study of Holy Scripture and do not want to run headon into a Scripture closed and sealed, then learn, above all things, to understand sin aright.7 The message of the divine Law is intended to set before us the demand of Almighty God for moral perfection. God demands perfect holiness. The 20

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Good Intentions/Faulty Diagnosis I do not question the intentions of those who have adopted the seeker sensitive agenda. I believe that these church growth advocates honestly desire to reach people and to positively affect lives. They desire to make the Christian message relevant. They want to see the Church of Jesus Christ become a dynamic force for moral change in the midst of a perverted generation. Yet, “the road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

There is no doubt that the quality of life that exists in many Christian congregations is not what it ought to be. The problem is not that we have been too bold in our proclamation of sin and grace, Law and Gospel, but rather that we have not been bold enough. If those in the pew do not see the extent of their sin and the perversion of MODERN REFORMATION

their human nature, they will not seek the life-changing grace of God. Even though the Bible says to “pursue” spiritual growth and sanctification, to be engaged in “fighting” the fight of faith, and, like newborn babes, “crave” the pure milk of the Word of God, those admonitions will fall on deaf ears if the reality of our condition is not faced.

In the Book of Revelation, our Lord Jesus addresses and warns the various churches of that day. One of those churches, the Church at Laodicea, was guilty of spiritual apathy. Jesus describes their “lack of need” as being lukewarmness. In addressing this church, Jesus minces no words, “You say ‘I am rich … and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked” (Rev. 3:18).

The dynamic of the Christian life is fueled by the combination of a deep sense of sin together with a deep appreciation for divine grace. If you read of the experiences of Christians who progressed in their relationship with the Lord Jesus beyond the norm you see their deep sense of sin and failure coupled with a deep appreciation for what God accomplished in Christ Jesus. Men like Martin Luther, John Calvin, C. S. Lewis, and Francis Schaeffer were not afraid to speak of their sinful natures and even boast of their weaknesses, because they recognized the reality of divine grace.

They knew their sin, but they also knew the Gospel.

The profound level of spiritual depth and biblical insight of such men causes the theology of seeker sensitivity to look feeble indeed.

Martin Luther’s discovery of the great doctrine of justification by grace was not an isolated incident. A great deal led up to the day when his eyes were opened and he was able to clearly understand that God had forgiven him and actually declared him to be righteous through Jesus Christ. His very keen sense of sin and failure was the driving force behind his discovery. In fact, he stated that when he was at the point of despair over his sin, he was then actually the closest to grace.9 John Calvin, for example, was referred to by his friends as “the accusative case” because of his intense spiritual introspection. He was aware of his guilt.

This necessary combination of sin and grace is not difficult to understand. A person who is not willing to face his sickness will not desire the services of a physician. If something isn’t broken, you don’t fix it. If you do not see your sin, you will have no desire for God’s grace. And, if you don’t know the brokenness of your human condition, you obviously do not require the provision that God offers. Dr. Paul Tournier wrote,

confidence in grace… . Those who are the most pessimistic about man are the most optimistic about God; those who are the most severe with themselves are the ones who have the most serene confidence in divine forgiveness … By degrees the awareness of our guilt and of God’s love increase side by side.10 Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard pointed out that a man who is remote from his own guilt and failure is also remote from God, because he is remote from himself.11 The Bible is very clear in revealing the divine estimate of human nature. Being born out of the root of Adam, we are the children of wrath (Eph. 2:3), totally unable by nature to grasp the things of the Spirit of God (1 Cor. 2:14). The Bible tells us that we were shaped in iniquity and born in sin (Ps. 51:5) and that the imaginations of our hearts are evil (Gen. 8:21).

Within our human flesh, there dwells absolutely no good thing. Even though we may desire to do good and to be good, we are unable to accomplish our lofty ideals because our nature is wrong (Rom. 7:18-19). We are in bondage to the law of sin and death (Rom. 7:21).

Put simply, from God’s perspective, our lives are a mess! Our real need is for self-accusation, not selfesteem. We need g race, not acceptance and understanding. We need a crucified Savior, not a support group. MR

Don Matzat has been a pastor in the Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod for over thirty years. After many years of parish ministry, he is presently the host of the national radio program, “Issues, Etc.” The author of four books, he has recently written The Lord Told Me … I Think!

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Comfort Ye My People A REFORMATION PERSPECTIVE ON ABSOLUTION LUTHERAN

REFORMED

RICK RITCHIE

MICHAEL S.HORTON

Some years back, when the Growing up in Evangelicalism movie was fairly new to video, I there is a healthy suspicion of viewed Amadeus in the student unbiblical ceremonies. At least lounge of the Assemblies of in theory. In practice, we often God college my friend was substituted our own attending. A Roman Catholic “sacraments.” Where Rome priest visits a lunatic asylum offered forgiveness if the where Salieri, a court musician penitent met the conditions and of mediocre talent is pining claimed the inherent powers of away his last days. The priest the priesthood, we evangelicals seems sincere, and has a good were nevertheless often led to pastoral manner. Nobody ourselves, to wander in the reacted negatively to this caverns of our own subjectivity. character until he announced As I began to read the reformers the purpose of his visit. He and their criticism of a church spoke the words “I come to that led people into terrible offer you the forgiveness of insecurities—wondering if they God,” and the room exploded in had been sufficiently sorry for mockery. Several students their sins, had confessed every immediately pointed to their one—I saw striking parallels Jesus making the classical sign of absolution chests and said “I come to offer with my own experience. you the forgiveness of God.” Their emphasis on the Reformation theology provides profound biblical words “I” and “God” was meant to demonstrate the insights into the meaning of guilt and its cure. It also ludicrous arrogance of any man claiming to offer God’s offers us a concrete model of churches that actually forgiveness to another. This is considered by many to be dealt with the practical consequences of guilt. Even the worst form of Roman Catholic arrogance. many Reformed people today would be surprised to This opinion is by no means confined to the radical discover some of these rich resources. For instance, fringe of Protestantism. I remember the evangelical preaching was viewed as a miraculous event where Christ pastor of a church I used to attend saying that if any met the sinner and brought him or her into saving union pastor of his denomination claimed to be able to forgive with himself. It was not chiefly information or sins, he or she ought to be defrocked. exhortation, but a saving encounter with the Living God These opinions were familiar to me growing up. In by the power of the Holy Spirit working through the fact, I shared them. It wasn’t that I had heard careful preached Word. Added to the proclamation of the proof-texting for the evangelical position. The Roman Gospel was the regular administration of the Lord’s position simply seemed absurd on the face of it.

Supper. Why did Calvin believe it should be celebrated Human analogies sprang quickly to mind. “If Tom every time the Word is preached, or at least weekly? totals your car, I am in no position to forgive him for Knowing he could not prescribe something that was not what he did to you. He must approach you himself.” explicitly required by Scripture, Calvin nevertheless continued on page 29 22

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continued on page 23 MODERN REFORMATION

emphasized the importance of frequent Communion solely because he was an evangelical (that is, “Gospelcentered”) in the best sense. As he argues the case, we are weak and feeble. If God does not constantly convince us of our misery and of his forgiveness and reconciliation, we will invariably retur n to selfconfidence or despair.

The same sort of pastoral intuition led the Genevan reformer to argue for the recovery of an evangelical practice of public and private confession and absolution.

Like the other reformers, Calvin is eager to see all of ecclesiastical action as ministerial rather than magisterial.

In other words, officers are given the “ministry of reconciliation” (2 Cor. 5:21), not the power of lords and masters. Rome exercised tyranny by attributing powers to priests that belong to God alone. However, this did not mean that ministers had not been authorized to bring forgiveness to the lost. In Calvin’s section on confession and absolution in the Institutes (3.4.1-14) you see that the evangelical concerns are primary. While Rome prescribes private confession as part of its sacrament of penance (contrition [feeling sorry for the sin], confession, satisfaction [making amends to God and the offended party]), Calvin insisted that this was a terrible parody of the biblical doctrine of repentance. In recovering the apostolic and ancient church’s understanding of “the keys” (John 20:23; Matt.

18:18; 2 Cor. 5:20), Calvin urged a wise and guarded, evangelically shaped practice of private and public confession and absolution. For Calvin, private confession and absolution were simply a one-on-one version of the public proclamation of the Gospel, much as private administration of Communion to shut-ins is an extension of the public administration earlier that day or week. It is not a different gift, nor is it a different degree of forgiveness, than one receives by taking advantage of confession and absolution. Rather, it is a greater sight of that forgiveness that all Christians receive from God’s gracious hand. Calvin offers rich insights as a pastor who understood guilt and its remedies.

First, he contrasts the New Testament doctrine of repentance and the medieval doctrine of penance.

Although he is sarcastic in pointing out the speculative labyrinth erected out of the medieval imagination, he insists that this is serious business.

But I would have my readers note that this is no contention over the shadow of an ass, but that the most serious matter of all is under discussion: namely, forgiveness of sins… .

Unless this knowledge remains clear and sure, the conscience will have no rest at all, no peace with God, no assurance or security; but it continuously trembles, wavers, tosses, is

tormented and vexed, shakes, hates, and flees the sight of God.1 To be sure, we must exercise godly sorrow for our sins, confess them to God, and make necessary changes.

“But if forgiveness of sins depends upon these conditions which they attach to it, nothing is more miserable or deplorable for us.” At its root, Rome’s mistaken view of repentance is that it somehow pacifies God when we sin. But, Calvin replies, repentance is not the cause of forgiveness of sins. Moreover, we have done away with those torments of souls which they would have us perform as a duty. We have taught that the sinner does not dwell upon his own compunction or tears, but fixes both eyes upon the Lord’s mercy alone. We have merely reminded him that Christ called those who “labor and are heavy-laden” [Matt. 11:28], when he was sent to publish good news to the poor, to heal the broken-hearted, to proclaim release to the captives, to free the prisoners, to comfort the mourners [Is. 61:1; Luke 4:18].2 In the ancient church, confession to the minister was not a condition of forgiveness, but an aid for those who needed to be convinced that they were forgiven. It was Pope Innocent III in the thirteenth century, Calvin says, who introduced this tyranny of the priesthood.

The General Confession But Calvin certainly does not abandon confession and absolution completely. They still have their place in the context of the church. First, they occur in the public worship: For this reason, the Lord ordained of old among the people of Israel that, after the priest recited the words, the people should confess their iniquities publicly in the temple [cf. Lev. 16:21].

For he foresaw that this help was necessary for them in order that each one might better be led to a just estimation of himself. And it is fitting that, by the confession of our own wretchedness, we show forth the goodness and mercy of our God, among ourselves and before the whole world.3 Hardly an add-on for those weeks in which we feel particularly liturgical, “this sort of confession ought to be ordinary in the church.” Calvin adds: Besides the fact that ordinary confession has been commended by the Lord’s mouth, no one NOVEMBER/DECEMBER 1997

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of sound mind, who weighs its usefulness, can dare disapprove it. For since in every sacred assembly we stand before the sight of God and the angels, what other beginning of our action will there be than the recognition of our own unworthiness? But that, you say, is done through every prayer; for whenever we pray for pardon, we confess our sin. Granted. But if you consider how great is our complacency, our drowsiness, or our sluggishness, you will agree with me that it would be a salutary regulation if the Christian people were to practice humbling themselves through some public rite of confession.4 This is why the practice of public confession and absolution was retained in Reformed and Presbyterian churches. “And indeed,” Calvin adds, “we see this custom observed with good result in well-regulated churches; that every Lord’s Day the minister frames the formula of confession in his own and the people’s name, and by it he accuses all of wickedness and implores pardon from the Lord. In short, with this key a gate to prayer is opened both to individuals in private and to all in public.”

Private Confession Next, Calvin turns to private confession, pointing out that Scripture “approves two forms of private confession: one made for our own sake, to which the statement of James refers [Jam. 5:16]” and the other “for our neighbor’s sake, to appease him and to reconcile him to us … .”5 It is the first that concerns us here. To be sure, James 5:16 has every believer in mind. The “priesthood of all believers” means that any Christian is authorized to hear confessions and pronounce God’s pardon.

Yet we must also preferably choose pastors inasmuch as they should be judged especially qualified above the rest. Now I say that they are better fitted than the others because the Lord has appointed them by the very calling of the ministry to instruct us by word of mouth to overcome and correct our sins, and also to give us consolation through assurance of pardon [Matt. 16:19; 18:18; John 20:23]. For, while the duty of mutual admonition and rebuke is entrusted to all Christians, it is especially enjoined upon ministers. Thus, although all of us ought to console one another and confirm one another in assurance of divine mercy, we see that the ministers themselves have been ordained witnesses and sponsors of it to assure our consciences of forgiveness of sins, to the extent that they are said to forgive sins and to loose souls. When you hear that this is attributed to them, recognize that it is for your benefit.

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Therefore, let every believer remember that, if he be privately troubled and afflicted with a sense of his sins, so that without outside help he is unable to free himself from them, it is a part of his duty not to neglect what the Lord has offered to him by way of remedy. Namely, that, for his relief, he should use private confession to his own pastor; and for his solace, he should beg the private help of him whose duty it is, both publicly and privately, to comfort the people of God by the gospel teaching.6 Summarizing the argument, then, private confession and absolution ought to be retained in an evangelical form, with the following conditions: 1. It is for the good of someone who needs it, not a requirement for all.

2. It is made to a pastor (or elder) because the pastor is the minister of the Word and this is a part of that ministry, “to the extent that they are said to forgive sins and to loose souls.”

3. It is for comfort in the Gospel teaching, not a condition for forgiveness to be superstitiously invoked.

Later (3.4.18), Calvin shows the impossibility of the medieval conditions. For instance, how could we possibly recall all of our sins?

But he should always observe this rule: that where God prescribes nothing definite, consciences be not bound with a definite yoke.

Hence, it follows that confession of this sort ought to be free so as not to be required of all, but to be commended only to those who know that they have need of it. Then, that those who use it according to their need neither be forced by any rule nor be induced by any trick to recount all their sins. But let them do this so far as they consider it expedient, that they may receive the perfect fruit of consolation. Faithful pastors ought not only to leave this freedom to the churches, but also to protect it and stoutly defend it if they want to avoid tyranny in their ministry and superstition in the people.7 However, our public or private confession cannot speak comfor t to our guilty conscience alone.

Therefore, absolution also belongs to the ministry as part of “the power of the keys” (John 20:23; Matt.

18:18). After all, it is no common or light solace to have present there [at the front of the church] the ambassador of Christ, armed with the mandate MODERN REFORMATION

of reconciliation, by whom [the church] hears proclaimed its absolution [cf. 2 Cor. 5:20].

Here the usefulness of the keys is deservedly commended, when this embassy is carried out justly, in due order, and in reverence. Similarly, when one who in some degree has estranged himself from the church receives pardon and is restored into brotherly unity, how great a benefit it is that he recognizes himself forgiven by those to whom Christ said, “To whomsoever you shall remit sins on earth, they shall be remitted in heaven.” And private absolution is of no less efficacy or benefit, when it is sought by those who need to remove their weakness by a singular remedy.8 Here Calvin strikes that familiar note of his: the weakness of our faith and the need to be strengthened. We also see God’s fatherly condescension to meet us in our weakness.

Instead of scolding us for not being sufficiently strengthened by the publicly preached Word, God stoops to convince us by the privately preached Word which is individualized:

both Baptism and the Supper, we see clear institutions established, but not so with respect to confession and absolution. If the Lutheran cites texts such as, “Whoever’s sins you forgive are forgiven,” we share their exegesis.

Ministers forgive sins: that is what the biblical text says and our confessions do not shrink from that conclusion.

However, how is this a distinct sacrament rather than the exercise of the office of the keys—more specifically, the ministry of the Word privately applied?

But the Reformed join Lutherans in affirming this practice, in contrast to both evangelical individualism and Roman Catholic sacerdotalism (i.e., “priestcraft”).

Rome never tired of discussing “the power of the keys,” but for her this meant that she could dispose of the eternal destinies of her subjects. Control, power, and subservience were upper most in such discussions. Calvin is prepared, for biblical and evangelical reasons, to retain the practice of public and private confession/absolution.

Yet it must be viewed as a ministry of the Gospel in weakness leading to life and not a ministry of judgment in power leading to death.

“For when it is a question of the keys, we must always beware lest we dream up some power separate from the preaching of the gospel.” Writing about excommunication, Calvin insists on letting the Gospel have the last word. In fact, he sees this most extreme form of discipline as a lawwork that will lead the person to see his or her need for Christ. Knowing how prone we all are to tyranny and “lording it over people as the gentiles do,” Calvin is anxious to keep this from becoming an independent power that the minister has over his congregation.

Calvin’s view is by no means eccentric, but characterizes the confessional and dogmatic heritage of the Reformed and Presbyterian communions. While denying any “priestcraft,” theologian Francis Turretin (1623-87) nevertheless argued that Christ had given the “power of the keys” to his ministers. “But they loose and remit sins ministerially, both to the penitent and believers in common… . The absolution committed to the ministers of the gospel is not judicial, such as belongs to a judge or lord; but ministerial, such as is partly by the preaching of the gospel (which consists in remission of this kind) or by his heralding or ministry of it, and in the exercise of ecclesiastical discipline, as it is

We are given ministers not to

trouble our conscience as masters, but to lift the burden in Christ’s own name. Servants rather than lords, they apply the salve that alone can heal our soul’s sores.

For it often happens that one who hears general promises that are intended for the whole congregation of believers remains nonetheless in some doubt, and as if he had not yet attained forgiveness, still has a troubled mind. Likewise, if he lays open his heart’s secret to his pastor, and from his pastor hears that message of the gospel specially directed to himself, “Your sins are forgiven, take heart” [Matt. 9:2], he will be reassured in mind and be set free from the anxiety that formerly tormented him.9 But whatever we choose to do in this matter, we must not make out of this practice a means of grace separate from (or even distinct from) the preached Gospel. Here is where the Reformed diverge from our Lutheran brothers and sisters in their claim that confession and absolution constitute a third sacrament in addition to Baptism and the Eucharist. We Reformed folks have no stock in the number “two,” but we can find no scriptural evidence for our Savior’s institution of this practice as a sacrament. In

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subordinated to that preaching of the gospel” (3:554-5).

The sixteenth-century Second Helvetic Confession warns against the tyranny of auricular confession as practiced by Rome.

If, however, anyone is overwhelmed by the burden of his sins and by perplexing temptations, and will seek counsel, instruction and comfort privately, either from a minister of the Church, or from any other brother who is instructed in God’s Word, we do not disapprove; just as we also fully approve of that general and public confession of sins which is usually said in Church and in meetings for worship… . Thus, ministers remit sins… . Ministers, therefore, rightly and effectually absolve when they preach the Gospel of Christ and thereby the remission of sins, which is promised to each one who believes, just as each one is baptized, and when they testify that it pertains to each one peculiarly.

Neither do we think that this absolution becomes more effectual by being murmured in the ear of someone or by being murmured singly over someone’s head. We are nevertheless of the opinion that the remission of sins in the blood of Christ is to be diligently proclaimed, and that each one is to be admonished that the forgiveness of sins pertains to him (Ch. 14).

Similarly, the Westminster Confession (1647) declares, “To these officers the keys of the Kingdom of Heaven are committed, by virtue whereof they have power respectively to retain and remit sins…” (Ch. 32).

This is no arbitrary power: it does not reside within the minister himself, but belongs to all elders and ministers as they are Christ’s ambassadors.

The power of the keys in general and confession and absolution in particular are, in the Reformed tradition, often linked to both the public Word and sacrament ministry as well as to private discipline. For instance, a repentant person who is struggling with a particular sin may not only need to hear that he or she is absolved, but might also need practical help and ongoing accountability. In our own church, private confession is just that—private. Nevertheless, in most cases the individual is actually surprised and relieved to interact with the elders. As Matthew 18 teaches, private sins are dealt with privately, while public sins are handled publicly. When someone is unrepentant and completely resistant to correction, the Law is needed.

They need to have their presumption shaken so that they will flee to Christ and the Gospel.

Consequently, according to the Reformed tradition, confession and absolution are entrusted particularly to 26

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the officers of the church in three ways: (1) public worship, with the general confession in the liturgy; (2) privately, to assure the conscience that the forgiveness is not merely offered generally, but applies specifically to this struggling person; (3) privately or publicly in the practice of ecclesiastical discipline.

In this regard, new Calvinists tend to overreact to their backgrounds. Former Roman Catholics flatly reject penance and its practice of private confession and absolution. And those of us who were formerly Arminians simply jettisoned the altar call and regular evangelistic preaching as human-centered manipulation.

(Of course, there is something in that and such illegitimate practices as the altar call should not have any place in rightly ordered churches.) Nevertheless, what happens in the course of the Christian life is this: a person is converted by the preaching (hopefully!) of the death, burial, and resurrection of Christ for sinners, and then finds in years to come that he or she is still struggling. Sin and temptation undermine the person’s confidence: Was I really converted? Maybe I didn’t really mean it? Surely if I were really a Christian I wouldn’t have this much trouble with sinful desires and habits.

“Means of grace” such as Roman Catholic penance and Arminian altar calls were invented just for the crisis that occurs when grace is considered conditional.

Instead of merely reacting, we need to go back and examine how theology leads to particular practices and then carefully examine the Scriptures to see how we can more faithfully apply our theology. For instance, many sermons repeatedly try to persuade people to “make a decision.” This emphasis is not consistent with the apostolic preaching of the cross. But it is clear from the Scriptures that the Church, as well as unbelievers who might be in attendance, needs to be evangelized weekly.

Furthermore, if we shun the altar call, why not have regular Communion and an invitation for those who wish to talk to the pastors and elders after the service?

Perhaps an extended time of private ministry of the Word could follow the public ministry each Lord’s Day. Clearly, such ministry should be available not only for new converts, but for the oldest Christian.

We are given ministers not to trouble our conscience as masters, but to lift the burden in Christ’s own name.

Servants rather than lords, they apply the salve that alone can heal our soul’s sores. It is because this is a ministry of life that we can rejoice that Christ has given his servants these keys. “Therefore,” Calvin writes, “when you hear that this is attributed to them, recognize that it is for your benefit.” MR

Michael S. Horton.

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QUOTES The Pharisees … asked his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and ‘sinners’?”

On hearing this, Jesus said, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick … . For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” — Matthew 9:11-13 We can shoot rockets into space but we can’t cure anger or discontent.

— John Steinbeck If you want to engage profitably in the study of theology and Holy Scripture and do not want to run head-on into a Scripture closed and sealed, then learn, above all things, to understand sin aright.

— Martin Luther, cited in Ewald Plass, What Luther Says, 1293 You righteous men, whose righteousness is all of your own working, are either deceivers or deceived, for the Scripture cannot lie and it says plainly, ‘There is none righteous, no, not one.’ In any case, I have no gospel to preach to the self-righteous, no, not a word.

Jesus Christ himself came not to call the righteous… .

Believe that the only persons that can need justification are those who are not just in themselves. They need something to be done for them to make them just before the judgment seat of God… .To make him just who is just is no work for God; that were a labor for a fool.

But to make him just who is unjust, that is work for infinite love and mercy. To justify the ungodly is a miracle worthy of God, and it is.

— Charles Spurgeon, preaching in 1894 on Romans 4, cited in Eternity magazine, March 1982, 33

Believers who are the most desperate about themselves are the ones who express most forcefully their confidence in grace… . Those who are the most pessimistic about man are the most optimistic about God; those who are the most severe with themselves are the ones who have the most serene confidence in divine forgiveness… . By degrees the awareness of our guilt and of God’s love increase side by side.

— Paul Tournier, Guilt and Grace, 159-60 …[W]hile [the Law] shows God’s righteousness, that is, the righteousness alone acceptable to God, it warns, informs, convicts, and lastly condemns, every man of his own unrighteousness. For man, blinded and drunk with self-love, must be compelled to know and to confess his own feebleness and impurity. If man is not clearly convinced of his own vanity, he is puffed up with insane confidence in his own mental powers, and can never be induced to recognize their slenderness as long as he measures them by a measure of his own choice.

But as soon as he begins to compare his powers with the difficulty of the law, he has something to diminish his bravado. For, however remarkable an opinion of his powers he formerly held, he soon feels that they are panting under so heavy a weight as to stagger and totter, and finally even to fall down and faint away. Thus man, schooled in the law, sloughs off the arrogance that previously blinded him.

— Calvin, Institutes, 2.7.6

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Question: “What must you know to live and die in the joy of this comfort?”

Answer: “Three things: first, how great my sin and misery are; second, how I am set free from all my sins and misery; third, how I am to thank God for such deliverance.”

— Heidelberg Catechism, Question 2 What often impressed me was the tolerance of the [social] conservatives I knew for human faults and failings, including my own… . Over time, their tolerance became intelligible to me. What made one a conservative was recognition of the human capacity for evil, or for just plain screwing up. That was why the rules were important. Not because conservatives expected nobody to break them. But because having rules that were respected made it harder for people to do so. This was a more subtle—but in the long run more trustworthy—form of compassion than liberals’ softness of heart.

— former communist David Horowitz, Radical Son, 430 There’s something about the word absolution that sounds positively medieval. It conjures up pictures of dark confessional booths and trite penitential formulas. In our enlightened age of education and psychotherapy, confession and absolution seem irrelevant. “Why would I want to confess my sins to somebody else?” we protest.

“I’ve already confessed them to God! Besides, what I really need is to do something myself about overcoming sin.”

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But that’s just the point, isn’t it? You and I can’t do anything to overcome our own sin. Christ overcomes sin. He won the victory once at Calvary, and applied that victory to us once in our Baptism. But He extends that victory to us over and over again in the word of His gospel.

— Harold Senkbeil, Dying to Live: The Power of Forgiveness, 81-82 Two models of pastoral ministry have been vying for the Protestant mind in the twentieth century...In the one model, theology is foundational, and in the other it is only peripheral. In the one, theological truth explains why there is a ministry at all, what it is about, and why the Church without it will shrivel and die. In the other, this reasoning is marginalized so that what shapes, explains, and drives the work of ministry arises from the needs of a modern profession.

— David F. Wells, No Place for Truth: Or, Whatever Happened to Evangelical Theology?, 218

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continued from page 22 Besides this, the Roman Church was well known for giving priests powers that didn’t belong to them. Not long ago, they were the only ones allowed to read the Scriptures. At one time they were immune from paying the civil penalty for crime. Why should it surprise us then, that they would presume the divine power of forgiveness?

When I was later exposed to confessional Lutheranism, some surprises awaited me. Holy Absolution was yet another place where the Lutheran mode of refor mation differed from that of most of American Protestantism.

The reformation with which I was familiar could be summarized as “out with the old and in with the new.” In this view, the Reformation began with the discovery that the church was grossly cor rupt and unbiblical in its practice.

Reformation consisted in starting from scratch and learning what the Bible taught afresh, without looking for direction from the Catholic past. Soon, I discovered that while this characterized the Anabaptists, it differed from the more conservative Lutheran stance.

While the Lutheran reformers were convinced that the medieval Catholic church was guilty of gross corruption, their method was to evaluate carefully old practices. Where they were helpful to the Gospel, they were retained. Where they were unbiblical and dangerous to the Gospel, they were jettisoned. Where they were biblical practices corrupted by unbiblical additions, they were cleaned up. I had always assumed that absolution was an abuse in and of itself. The Lutheran reformers saw it differently. They viewed it as a biblically grounded practice that had been abused.

Their intention was to retain the practice purged of abuses. This mir rored their—and the other reformers’—method of dealing with Baptism and the Lord’s Supper. All considered these biblical practices that the medieval church had overlaid with superstition.

The biblical practice was retained, but the abuses were eliminated.

The mere knowledge that there is more than one way to reform a church does not in itself answer the question of whether absolution is a sound practice. Nor does our knowledge that some reformers taught the

doctrine establish it. Still, it is helpful to remember the old proverb that abuse does not prohibit legitimate use.

There have been obvious misuses of the practice of absolution (indulgence sales, for example). Yet this does not by itself prove there is no good use of the practice.

The Biblical Grounds I was surprised to find out how biblical the grounds were for absolution. Yet some of the passages upon which it rested were familiar to me. In some cases I had ignored their implications using the argument: “Whatever this means, it can’t mean that! (by “that,” I meant the obvious meaning of the text); that is just what the Catholics say, and they can’t be right.” In other cases I had been directed to the wrong portion of the text for my understanding of the doctrine.

One of the clearest passages on absolution is also the most often misread. It is not that the language is unclear, but that attention is paid to the wrong portion of the passage. Consider the healing of the paralytic, found in Matthew 9:

The practice of confession and absolution is not to be taken as yet another thing we need to do to be saved. It is another way of delivering the Gospel we have already heard and received.

And behold, they brought to him a paralytic, lying on his bed; and when Jesus saw their faith he said to the paralytic, “Take heart, my son; your sins are forgiven.” And behold, some of the scribes said to themselves, “This man is blaspheming.” But Jesus, knowing their thoughts, said, “Why do you think evil in your hearts? For which is easier to say, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Rise and walk’? But that you may know that the Son of man has authority on earth to forgive sins”—he then said to the paralytic—“Rise, take up your bed and go home.” And he rose and went home.

When the crowds saw it, they were afraid, and glorified God, who had given such authority to men (Matt. 9:2-8).

I am sure that this passage is familiar to most readers. A good teacher ordinarily points out that Jesus establishes his authority to forgive through his miracle. We aren’t expected to believe that anyone who makes claims to NOVEMBER/DECEMBER 1997

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forgive can do so. They must have divine authority.

Jesus proves his divine authority by means of a healing.

So far so good.

What is overlooked, however, is that when the people glorify God, they glorify him for giving such authority “to men.” As Christians who know the identity of Jesus, it is easy to think that Jesus is proving here that he is divine, and that his divinity is the reason he can forgive sins. This is understandable, yet leads to problems. It would take a unique display of power to demonstrate the deity of Jesus. The resurrection is such a demonstration (see John 20:28; Rom. 1:4). A healing is not. Jesus’ disciples could heal. Did this prove them to be divine? Of course not.

The right principle to draw from this passage is that the ability to heal was a manifestation of divine authority. If an individual heals someone, he or she exercises an authority given from heaven. That healing is a manifestation of divine authority is supported by another passage in Matthew: “And he called to him his twelve disciples and gave them authority over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to heal every disease and infirmity” (Matt. 10:1). If it is true that the ability to heal requires divine authority, and that the divine authority to heal can be used as evidence for the ability to forgive sin, isn’t it clear that the divine authority to forgive might be transferable to other men? The people who witnessed the healing of the paralytic seemed to reason this way. What is ironic is that sometimes by direct statement and sometimes by implication, evangelical teachers suggest that the unbelieving Pharisees were better theologians than the believing crowds. “Who can forgive sins but God alone?”, a response muttered by the unbelieving Pharisees, is considered an example of good reasoning. That the crowds “glorified God, who had given such authority to men,” however, is considered an example of bad reasoning. Isn’t this a strange use of a passage? Where else are the Pharisees right and the believers wrong? Yet this is exactly the way the case is argued by so many.

Frequently, Mark 2:7 is quoted: “Who can forgive sins but God alone?” This passage, though, is a quotation of the unbelieving Pharisees. The full quotation is: “Why does this fellow talk like that? He’s blaspheming. Who can forgive sins but God alone?” If everything the Pharisees say is so true that their quotations in Scripture can be identified as the teachings of Scripture itself, then we have to say that the Scriptures teach that Jesus is a blasphemer too! Of course this is unacceptable. The point is that the argument against absolution seems so self-evident to some that they are careless about whom they quote in their favor.

Of course God is the only one who naturally holds the authority to forgive sins. The important questions 30

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are, “Could God authorize the use of that authority by others if he so chose?”, and “Has he in fact done so?” I could understand a reader answering these two questions differently. It is possible to say that God could choose to authorize others to forgive sins in his name, but has not in fact chosen to do so. But are we prepared to say that God could not give this authorization to others even if he so chose?

Protestants’ case for absolution must rest on passages, and not on rational speculation. The following passage is an even clearer statement of the doctrine of absolution. (Although it is the clearest, I chose to present the above-quoted passages first, so that I could establish the grounds for the following passage to be taken according to its natural sense.) The passage is found in John, where Jesus appears to his disciples after the resurrection: “And when he had said this, he breathed on them, and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained’” (John 20:22-23). The first time I read this passage, I concluded that Jesus gave his disciples the authority to forgive sins. I showed the passage to another evangelical who explained it away by saying, “But it can’t mean that.

That’s what the Catholics teach.” There was no real attempt to explain what the passage did mean. I was just told that the natural sense was ludicrous.

The fact that the Catholics teach a doctrine is no proof that it is false. Most would agree. We have to look to Scripture to determine whether a doctrine is true or false. But what happens when the Catholic reading is the natural reading of the text, and the evangelical reading is not (or when there is no evangelical reading of the text!)? “That’s what the Catholics say” is considered a sufficient refutation. This form of reasoning has got to stop.

According to the natural sense of Scripture, God has given the authority to forgive sins to men. If we do not bring preconceived ideas to the text, I believe this is what we must conclude. Of course we will have questions and concerns. If God has granted this authority, then who possesses it? How are they obliged to use it? What if they misuse it? I worry about two classes of readers. First I am concerned about the reader who is so bound to preconceived ideas that he or she cannot see that God has granted to men the power to forgive sins. Second, I worry about those who accept any implications drawn from it too easily. The preferred reader is the one who accepts that God has granted men the power to forgive sins since Scripture so clearly teaches it, but remains a skeptic until convinced that a certain theory about how that forgiveness is to be applied is a Scriptural theory. The early Lutherans held to this middle course. They had grown up in the MODERN REFORMATION

medieval church, so they had better reasons than we to fear priestcraft. Yet they considered Scripture authoritative, requiring them to bow to its teaching even if it seemed in some way to uphold a practice that the Roman church had abused.

Speaking in Christ’s Stead That Jesus had the authority to heal and forgive sins, and could give that authority to others is an established fact. The question remains, “How does this concern us?”

So far, readers might be a little disturbed that the ability to forgive and retain sins is transferable but feel that the matter is still distant. Jesus told his hearers to do this, but can anyone else? If not, we are left with a curiosity, like Peter’s handkerchief in Acts. It was a strange thing to discover, and must have been useful at the time, but has little pertinence to us. Jesus’ hearers did many things we wouldn’t expect our own pastors to do.

Establishing the link between Jesus’ granting of authority in Scripture and authority in our day appears difficult to us even when we believe he did grant it. Part of the reason lies within us. Once we accept that this authority existed, it is easier to believe that the disciples once had it than it is to believe that someone might have it today. After all, eleven out of twelve disciples turned out well, and this authority may only have been given out after the bad one died. (I think it plausible that the disciples were able to forgive when they were first commissioned, though this is not required by the text.)

The eleven were no doubt careful in their use of authority. But what if this authority was given to priests, and a priest to whom I was assigned had it in for me? Could he really damn me? Who would dare do business with such an individual? It is easy to imagine some grouchy priest going through a day saying, “I retain his sins, and his sins, and her sins, and their sins… .” What would this say of God if he managed things like this? It is bad enough to know that religious authorities, like other authorities, may become corrupt and arbitrary in their use of power. Who wants to believe that when this happens, God has placed his stamp of approval on the situation?

Again, however, we must understand what God has revealed before deciding what he can or cannot have said. I do not doubt that people’s fears of possible misuse are well-grounded. But the same can be said of Baptism and the Lord’s Supper. Their misuse is even documented in Scripture itself! Yet we do not abolish them for that reason.

It is important to reiterate that the Lutheran practice of absolution is primarily based upon Scripture.

Consequently, Lutherans use a stronger for m in pronouncing absolution than many Christians do. They sometimes say, “By the authority and in the stead of

Jesus Christ, I forgive you your sins, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” This is acting in Christ’s place, with the understanding that he has explicitly authorized it. When the teaching of absolution is derived from somewhere other than Scripture, there will be a tendency to favor weaker expressions, often because the early church supposedly did. It may sound more Protestant to some to say “God forgives you your sins” than “…and in the stead of Christ, I forgive you your sins” because it seems to leave the matter to God. In fact, it is not. If we didn’t have explicit authorization to do this in Scripture, even the weaker forms of speech would be presumptuous. But if we have explicit authorization (the words being “If you forgive the sins of any they are forgiven”), well then, why not use it? We are not to reason out for ourselves how strongly we ought to speak. We must have a clear word from God. If he authorizes strong speaking, let us speak strongly.

The Keys of the Kingdom It is ironic that Protestants speak of the priesthood of all believers, but deny what this entails. They teach that all believers are ministers, but nobody is a priest. In another article I have argued that teaching that all believers are ministers is like teaching that every sheep is a shepherd.1 But I do not deny to believers their royal priesthood.

The power to forgive and retain sins is a priestly power. Here the Roman church is right. What the Lutherans did was to recognize that priestly powers belong to all Christians. Some Protestants abolished priestly powers, or at least the most notable ones.

Regarding absolution, the Lutherans did not just argue from the doctrine of the royal priesthood that all believers were given the authority to forgive. There were reasons to believe so from the text. As Luther argued, the John passage says that when he gave out the authority to forgive sins, he breathed out the Holy Ghost on his hearers. Now it is not just ordained priests and ministers who have the Holy Spirit, but all Christians. If he did not limit the Spirit to the one group, neither did he limit the authority to forgive to them.

Does this mean that you and I can go around forgiving sins?

Yes. Absolutely. In fact, it is our responsibility to do so.

But won’t that give people the wrong idea?

Only if we haven’t been empowered to do so. If we are empowered to forgive, then if people who are forgiven by us “get the wrong idea,” they didn’t get it from us.

Perhaps a comparison with the evangelical use of another passage might be helpful. In I John we are told, “If we confess our sins, God who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins, and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” This is private confession directly to NOVEMBER/DECEMBER 1997

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God. It is biblical, and Lutherans hold to it as well as evangelicals. Lutherans state that when people do this, they in effect pronounce absolution on themselves.

Why? Because in order to benefit from the confession, I must believe God’s promise. I confess, I look to the promise, and then conclude “I am forgiven.” This is a declarative form of absolution. If I do not conclude this, I charge God with falsehood. Have I given myself the wrong impression? No. The only wrong impression I might come to is that my sins are easy to forgive because they are insignificant.

But this ignores the cross. God’s promise to forgive the penitent assumes that I am tr usting that the forgiveness I receive is based upon Christ’s perfect payment on the cross. Apart from faith, I do not receive the benefit of the forgiveness, even if the forgiveness itself was valid.

The same is true of absolution however it is received, whether pronounced by myself, another Christian layman, or a pastor.

So why go to another Christian if I can pronounce absolution on myself ?

Because I might think I am being easy on myself just to feel better. If I hear the words from another, they may benefit me more and do more to strengthen my faith.

Then why go to a pastor if a layman has so much to offer?

For at least two reasons. First, the pastor is under the seal of the confessional. (Make sure your pastor understands and agrees with this before you charge ahead and tell him something that could be dangerous.)

What is said to him is to be repeated to no one. If it is, he should be defrocked. This ensures greater safety to your reputation. If you have committed a serious crime, he might strongly urge you to turn yourself in to the authorities, but he is under obligation to leave doing that to you. A layman is in no such position. Second, when the pastor forgives, he does it not only as a representative of God, but as a representative of the congregation. If the pastor says you are now innocent, fellow members of the congregation are not to treat you as a guilty individual.

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In the Lutheran church, only ministers absolve publicly, but this is for the sake of order in the church.

As Luther says, if everyone tried to do publicly in the church everything they had the power to do, we would have chaos. If everyone in the congregation wanted to baptize a child just because they had the power to do so, and a thousand people rushed to the font to exercise their authority, the child would be drowned!

Things work best when laymen are free to exercise their priestly authority in the world, since pastors cannot be everywhere absolution needs to be spoken. And when pastors alone absolve publicly, it is clear to the congregation who has been absolved.

The Historical Case The historical case for absolution can argue in favor of the practice, but not so effectively against it. If the Scriptures back the practice, an absence of the practice in the early years would cause us to wonder, but not to give up our doctrine. If, however, the early church always practiced absolution as we read about it in Scripture, then the burden of proof shifts.

Not only do we have Scripture on our side, but the early church read the pertinent Scriptures the way we do.

The actual historical practice seems to have developed as follows. In the early church, the Scriptures that I have mentioned in favor of confession and absolution were used to establish the practice of public confession before the congregation, followed by a public pardon. The Westminster Dictionary of Church History tells us, “Confession of sin as the first step was already traditional in the first century; the Didache speaks of ‘confession in church,’ presumably a public declaration (exomologesis) of wrongdoing.”2 This was practiced for a few centuries, but then discontinued because of the problems it caused. The practice was discontinued in the Eastern church in the year 390, and condemned by Pope Leo in the year 459. The problems which led to the abolition of public confession included scandal, gossip, and destroyed reputations. Perhaps it was also noticed that Matthew 18 set a precedent for sins being made public to as few people as possible. Whatever abuses auricular confession may have been subject to MODERN REFORMATION

later, the reasons for establishing it were valid.

According to a Lutheran reading of church history, it is not the practice of auricular confession itself which is abusive, but specific additions to it. One of the worst additions is the teaching that confession is necessary to salvation. Pope Innocent III decreed that all who failed to go to confession at least once a year were guilty of mortal sin. In addition, the Council of Trent decreed that every mortal sin had to be confessed to be forgiven.

These two elements of the Roman teaching, the necessity of confession and the necessity to enumerate sins, were rejected by the Lutherans even as they retained the practice.

Fear of Priestcraft The chief fear that the doctrine of confession and absolution occasions is the fear of priestcraft. Just what will men do when they are invested with the power to remit and retain sins? This is an awesome power which in the wrong hands could do untold damage.

The Roman church has historically had a tendency to ignore these dangers. Roman writers scoff at accounts of priests abusing the confessional as Protestant propaganda.

In early Protestantism, attacking the confessional was an easy way to attack the Roman church. In his book, The Reformation in the Cities, Harvard historian Steven Ozment documents how this was done in early Protestant tracts. Some of the accounts are humorous, making use of sexual innuendo and double entendre.

(The priests were portrayed as dirty old men who made sport of seducing innocent girls, and asking them if they had committed indecent acts that they would never have imagined had they not gone to confession.)

The Lutherans retained the confessional, but made it less onerous by making it optional. Confession was not mandatory, nor were penitents required to enumerate sins. This changed the practice’s whole character. Sinners whose consciences were sore because of particular sins and had a hard time believing that God had forgiven them, could go and have a minister forgive them in God’s stead. While this forgiveness was no more genuine than the one they received after confessing privately to God, it might sink in more easily.

Yet even after seeing that the Bible teaches confession and absolution, some might still worry. How

will it be for me if I start going to confession?

Personally, I have found the practice helpful if I have particular past sins which weigh on my mind. If after confessing directly to God, I find that these sins still come to mind, I have found that taking them to private confession keeps them from coming back to torment me. On the other hand, I have not found the practice of going weekly to be helpful, at least as far as I am conscious of this. Weekly confession made me feel as if the forgiveness was wearing off over the course of the week. I felt forgiven on Wednesday nights after confession, but felt as if I had to be careful on the freeway on the weekends. This was not what I was taught, but when I saw how the practice was affecting me, I eliminated weekly confession.

Two g roups will fault me for this account. First, the more evangelical party will suggest that the fear of mortal sin I experienced was part-and-parcel of the practice of confession. “This is how Catholics think,” they will say. “Why should you be surprised if acting like a Catholic makes you think like a Catholic?” On the other hand, the Catholic party will suggest that my decision to leave off the practice when it did not leave me “feeling more forgiven” was too subjective. If valid forgiveness is offered, that is all that matters. So why do I take a middle course?

I believe that absolution exists for the sake of my conscience. God does not need my confession to forgive me. But hearing the Gospel addressed individually to me and my particular sins is helpful to my faith. The practice of confession and absolution is not to be taken as yet another thing we need to do to be saved. It is another way of delivering the Gospel we have already heard and received.

This being so, it is my own “Roman” conscience which concocts a fear of absolution wearing out during the week. Yet I have found that the confessional can actually be a place where consciences are de-Romanized, as pastors challenge their parishioners to stop thinking of their sins the way Roman Catholics do (at least at their worst). But likewise, if absolution exists for my benefit, if I see the opposite of the intended result coming from it, and leave feeling less forgiven, it makes sense to discontinue the practice. It grants a valid

Private confession does not

make it harder to be forgiven, since the practice is not mandatory. Rightly understood, it can only make it easier.

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forgiveness to be sure. But if it exists to strengthen faith, and my faith is not, in fact, strengthened, it is not working for me, however valid it might be.

I view going to confession similarly to going to the doctor. It beats operating on myself, especially when I need major surgery. But if I find that the lesser treatments do more harm than good, I as the patient am in the best position to know what is best. This really is a middle course between a Catholic “trust everything the doctor tells you even if you feel like it’s killing you” philosophy and an evangelical “I’m my own surgeon” credo.

I have gone to confession.3 Have I lost all fear of priestcraft? No. I still do not know the limits of pastoral power as it is practiced in my church, and am uncomfortable about the idea of its misuse. I do not laugh at evangelicals who have this fear. I do not consider them ignorant for their fear of the unknown.

But I am convinced that confession and absolution is a biblical sacrament. I have seen its value. I don’t doubt that it can be misused. I still have a lot to learn about how these powers are to be regulated in a congregation.

To anyone who thinks these powers in the hands of men could be dangerous, I say amen. But I am still convinced that God has given these powers to men, and that they can be used for the good of the church. Further, I believe that all would benefit from a deeper investigation of the nature and history of the practice. We can make more intelligent decisions about our own involvement with it if we know facts and not propaganda.

I hope readers will be convinced by the Scriptures to recognize that God has been generous in the ways he has chosen to convey the forgiveness of sins. What I have argued for does not make it harder to be forgiven, since the practice is not mandatory. Rightly understood, it can only make it easier. The Reformation did have a case to make concerning Catholic abuses of this practice. However, we lose something dear if in our anti-Roman crusades we dump the keys of the kingdom out with the chains of bondage. There is an evangelical practice of confession and absolution that we need to recover. God’s voice of freedom should be echoing out of as many mouths as possible. MR

Rick Ritchie, a contributing author to Christ the Lord: The Reformation and Lordship Salvation (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1992), is a graduate of GordonConwell Theological Seminary in South Hamilton, Massachusetts.

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THE LATEST SEMINAR FROM THE ALLIANCE OF CONFESSING EVANGELICALS, COVERING THE TOPIC OF REFORMATION THEOLOGY Coming to: Bethesda, MD • March 21, 1998 James Boice & R.C. Sproul The church in sixteenth-century Europe needed a reformation.

Martin Luther precipitated what we call the Reformation with his famous declaration, “Here I stand!” Might the evangelical church of today be equally in need of a reformation?

Many evangelical leaders say yes. Evangelicals today are becoming increasingly worldly, having an unhealthy dependence on modern idols, such as politics, sociology, marketing and psychology to effect change in individuals and society. The church growth movement relies more on pragmatism and consumerism than on preaching the Word of God. This new seminar series shows that truth is recovered only when the Bible has its rightful place as the supreme authority in the life of every Christian and every church, and it calls churches to return to the authority of the Bible and to apply it faithfully in their worship, ministry, policies, life and evangelism.

For information call (215) 546-3696 Monday—Friday 8:30 am–4:30 pm ET MODERN REFORMATION

REVIEW Lancing the Blister Soul: by Shane Rosenthal A REVIEW OF THE GEORGIA BAND, V. O. L. I was recently turned on to a rock band by a White Horse Inn listener. After hearing just a few songs by the Vigilantes of Love, I became a fan. With a sound reminiscent of the Waterboys, The Call, U2, Bruce Cockburn, and if I dare say, Bob Dylan, they have nevertheless marked their own territory. You can’t listen to V. O. L. without feeling their theology of despair.

Their most recent CD, Blister Soul, cries out: There’s a smaller place you go, where there’s hardly any sound, where the deals have all gone sour, and the house of cards comes down, and the damage is costly, it’s beyond all dollars and sense, you can’t measure it with graphs and charts or any instruments, yeah the thing we cannot speak of, the secret we all know, …oh this blister soul.

But rather than leaving you to wallow in self lament, they gently point to a theology of grace: “…and the thing that’s yours for free is the thing I need the most, stifles every boast, stifles every boast.” The music is not overly didactic, or preachy, but comes off as a heart-felt call to deal with the fact of sin head-on. In their quest to look realistically at sin, and the problem of the human condition, singer/songwriter Bill Mallonee and V. O. L. have found the meaning of grace. As reviewer Thom Jurek suggests, “The blister soul is the starting point of everyone’s burden and everyone’s hope… .”1 Theologians have often described an inseparable link between original sin and the doctrines of grace. For if one has a superficial understanding of the human condition, there will be a moralistic superficiality in the way we view God’s grace and mercy (i.e., people who do

mostly good things go to heaven). But if a person believes that “no one is good, no not even one” (Rom. 3), then for anyone to be acceptable to God at all, there must be overwhelmingly powerful grace: “to the man who does not work but trusts God who justifies the wicked, his faith is credited as righteousness” (Rom. 4:5).

This theological link comes through quite clearly in the lyrics of the Vigilantes of Love. Notice for example the lyrics of their song, “Double Cure,” a song off their 1996 compilation CD simply titled V. O. L., released by Warner Brothers (the song’s title refers to Augustus Toplady’s great hymn, “Rock of Ages”: “Be of sin the double cure, cleanse me from its guilt and power”). The lines, “today I am sick of all I am, today is my setback.

First I swear I love you, then I stab you in the back,” are juxtaposed with the recurring refrain, “I wanna drink out of that fountain, On a hill called double cure.” One is reminded of the parable Jesus told of the Pharisee and the tax collector: Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood up and prayed about himself: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’ “But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’ “I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted (Luke 18:9-14).

The tax collector had come to terms with his “blister soul,” and cried out for mercy. And it is just this sort of NOVEMBER/DECEMBER 1997

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“cry of desperation” that leads one to a proper understanding of justification.

In their song “Parting Shot,” we come to one of the most impressive uses of this contrast between sin and grace. “You lie on the flowers here in the wind, I’ve twisted it all with original sin … there’s a knowledge I traded a long time ago, bartered it all for these rags I call clothes.” Original sin is not simply used here to blame our first parents, but rather, as Mallonee expresses it, we are all co-conspirators in this spirit of self-destruction.

And the reference to “rags” calls us back to the prophet Isaiah’s lamentation that “all our righteous acts are like filthy rags … and like the wind our sins sweep us away” (Is. 64:6). But later in the song Mallonee faces his own pessimism by admitting to his audience that he has been “droning on and on,” so he changes gears: Wait, it’s bigger than life, it is gracious and grand, something a child readily understands: “Hey you know I sure could use a new suit of clothes, see I’ve gone all threadbare and my shoes are worn, now the flowers are growing right out of these bones [and I can] hear the trumpet sound like Louis Armstrong, when the Great Divorce happens hide me in your song, cause I don’t deserve it and I don’t belong.”

I get frustrated with folks who argue that theology is too difficult for the average person. Mallonee is right; these things are quite simple, something even a “child readily understands.” In the story of “The Emperor’s New Clothes,” it was, after all, the child who pointed out that the Emperor was naked. So too, it is easy for us to understand the need for “a new suit of clothes” if we have recognized that our current wardrobe consists of rags. Theologically speaking, this is what is known as imputed righteousness; we are not acceptable to God in our own clothing, but must wear Christ’s righteousness like a robe.2 Mallonee’s confidence in this “robe of righteousness” gives him the eager anticipation for the sound of the last trumpet when all things will be made new. But this expectation is nevertheless tempered by the realization that “I don’t deserve it and I don’t belong.” When all is said and done, a person really cannot sing “Amazing Grace” until he has fully grasped the corresponding lines of Newton’s classic hymn, “that saved a wretch like me.”

In their song, “Who Knows When the Sunrise Will Be,” we come to see some of the theological influences of V. O. L. “Martin Luther said to one of his brothers, ‘except for one instance, no one can die for another.’

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The devil makes me fearful about my survival, [but] one’s gone before to ensure your arrival.” For Luther, Christ had “gone before to ensure [our] arrival.” Thus, when Mallonee writes in this song that: “I saw a man on the hill in place of my hell,” he is standing in the great tradition of Luther and the other reformers who asserted that the Christian Gospel is not about our efforts, our pursuits, our transformation, or our anything. Rather, the Christian Gospel is about Christ and what he accomplished on our behalf. In the final section of this song Mallonee delivers a desperate cry: You can count on your charm, revel in your wealth, improve your appearance, hope in your health, houses of cards tumble and reputations fail, marriages crumble and interest rates sail, there are no more heroes… .

We’re all blind men, sad men, and dreamers with wishes, paralytics, lunatics and the back street fringes [yet, we] all find a place in your home at your table, you make them well cause you’re willing and able… .

This is a brilliant description of our time, and yet, instead of being hostile and condemnatory as the Pharisee was toward the tax collector, Mallonee is humble, arguing that the Church is made of such members. In other words, the Church is a hospice for struggling sinners where Christ is the true medicine for our souls. Uh oh, sounds like I’ve hit the theme of another V. O. L. song, “Welcome to Struggleville.”

Shane Rosenthal is the producer of The White Horse Inn radio program and the creative media manager for the Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals.

MODERN REFORMATION

In Print Bondage of the Will Martin Luther (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1957) The Bondage of the Will is fundamental to an understanding of the primary doctrines of the Reformation. In this work, Luther gives extensive treatment to what he saw as the heart of the Gospel.

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B-LUT-1, $15.00, paperback Dying to Live: The Power of Forgiveness Harold L. Senkbeil (St. Louis: Concordia, 1994) In our age of religious consumerism, confused theology, and shallow piety, many Christians are searching for something more.

The vital, Christ-centered spiritual life cultivated by the Reformation is often overlooked. In this book, Pastor Senkbeil recovers the rich heritage of Reformation spirituality.

B-DTL, $13.00, paperback Not the Way It’s Supposed to Be: A Breviary of Sin. Cornelius Plantinga (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995) The awareness of sin used to be our shadow. Christians hated sin, feared it, fled from it, grieved over it. But the shadow has dimmed. In this book Plantinga tries to retrieve and old awareness that has slipped and changed in recent decades.

B-PLA-1, $16.00, paperback John Owen on the Christian Life Sinclair Ferguson (Carlisle, PA: Banner of Truth, 1995) Westminster Seminary professor Sinclair Ferguson edits John Owen’s writings on basic issues Christians face in every age. In Owen’s pastoral theology, the reader comes

to a better understanding of the Christian’s hope in the face of sin’s guilt, power, and presence.

B-FER-1, $34.00, hardcover The Culture of Narcissism: American Life in an Age of Diminishing Expectations Christopher Lasch (New York: Norton, 1978) When The Culture of Narcissism was first published, it was clear that Christopher Lasch had identified something important: what was happening to American society in the wake of the decline of the family over the last century. It has now been reissued in a larger format with a new Afterword, “The Culture of Narcissism Revisited.”

B-LAS-1, $12.00, paperback

OUT OF PRINT: (possibly available at your local library) A History of the Cure of Souls John T. McNeill (New York: Harper and Row, 1972) The Triumph of the Therapeutic: Uses of Faith after Freud Philip Rieff (New York: Harper and Row, 1968).

Speaking the Gospel Today: A Theology for Evangelism Robert Kolb (St. Louis: Concordia, 1984).

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NOVEMBER/DECEMBER 1997

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ENDNOTES THE JUSTIFICATION OF THE GUILTY, NOT THE RIGHTEOUS—Michael S. Horton 1 Harry Blamires, A God Who Acts (Ann Arbor, MI: Servant, 1979), 47.

2 Keith Ward, A Vision to Pursue: Beyond the Crisis in Christianity (SCM, 1991).

3 Ibid.

4 Jer. 17:9: “The heart is deceitful above all things, and beyond cure.”

5 Charles Hodge, Commentary on Romans.

6 We never leave justification in order to move on to the “higher ground” of sanctification. The cross and resurrection of Christ are never a grammar school from which we graduate, but form the only possible well-spring of both declarative and progressive holiness.

GUILT AND COMPASSION: OLD TESTAMENT VERSUS NEW TESTAMENT?—Tremper Longman III 1 Christopher Lasch, The Revolt of the Elites and the Betrayal of Democracy (New York: Norton, 1995), 214.

THE GUILT-HEAVY THEOLOGY OF COTTON MATHER:WHERE WAS GOD’S TENDER MERCY?—Rachel S. Stahle 1 David E. Stannard, The Puritan Way of Death (Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 1977), 61.

2 Cotton Mather, Magnalia Christi Americana, Books I and II, Kenneth B. Murdock, ed. (Cambridge, MA: Belknap/Harvard Univ. Press, 1977), 178.

3 Stannard, 61.

4 Cotton Mather, letter to Hans Sloane, March 10, 1722, in Selected Letters of Cotton Mather, Kenneth Silverman, ed. (Baton Rouge: LA State Univ. Press, 1971), 347.

5 For a detailed exposition, see Peter Gregg Slater’s Children in the New England Mind: In Death and in Life (Hamden, CT: Archon Books, 1977).

6 Stannard, 65.

7 Cotton Mather, Diary I, 457, quoted in David Levin, Cotton Mather (Cambridge, MA: Harvard Univ. Press, 1978), 307. Mather’s second wife was lost to smallpox as well. Both Mather and his third wife suffered through their marriage, as she struggled with mental illness.

8 For more on the centrality of the concept of covenant to American Puritans, see Puritan New England: Essays on Religion, Society, and Culture, Alden T. Vaughan and Francis J. Bremer, eds. (New York: St. Martins Press, 1977), and Harry Stout’s The New England Soul (New York: Oxford Univ. Press, 1986).

9 Ibid., 192.

10 Mather, “Advice from the Watch Tower,” 206-209.

11 Ibid., 205.

12 Ibid., 210.

13 Idem. On the same page, he also pleads, “...that it might grow more fashionable for People of all Ranks, to do the Charitable Action of Waking one another, where they see Drowsiness prevailing, and not say, Am I my Brothers Keeper….”

14 Ibid., 201; see also 213.

15 Ibid., 203. In miscellaneous sermon notes from June 1723, he writes, “...there can be nothing more seasonable and reasonable than for us to consider, whether our conduct with relation to our African slaves be not one thing for which our God may have a controversy with us,” in Selected Letters, 368.

16 Cotton Mather, “The Voice of God in a Tempest” (Boston, 1723), in Days of Humiliation, 277.

17 Mather, Magnalia, 193.

18 Mather, Angel, 93. On 94, he continues that smallpox was a “Sharp” and “New Rebuke” for a “Sinful Generation...Tis because ye Revolt more and more!” In a letter to Dr. James Jurin dated May 21, 1723, he describes smallpox: “The apprehensions of dying a very terrible death, after a burning for many days, in as painful, as loathsome a malady, or at best of having many weary nights roll away under the uneasy circumstances of loins filled with a loathsome disease, and recovering with boils, and scars, and wounds, not quickly to be forgotten, hold the children of men in the terrors of death, until the fiery trial be over with them.” From Selected Letters, 360.

This view of smallpox as a scourge inflicted on sinners is especially interesting because Mather led a campaign for decades to administer the new treatment of innoculation to Bostonians. Robert Middlekauff in The

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Mathers (New York: Oxford Univ. Press, 1971) notes that his adversaries accused him of contradicting his own theology by obstructing divine judgment (356). He responded in Angel that innoculation is “a New and Right Method” given by God as an “Instrument of Saving” (98). He does not explain, though, why God would concurrently utilize instruments of judgment and preservation.

19 Mather, “Advice from Taberah,” 143.

20 Mather, Magnalia, 191.

21 Mather, from a letter probably to John Stirling, January 5, 1723, in Selected Letters, 357.

22 Space restrictions prohibit a full exposition of his concept of hell, what he preferred to call “The Invisible World.” For representative treatments, see “The Call of the Gospel,” especially 71-79; “Hades Look’d into,” 99137; and “Boanerges,” 374-380, in Days of Humiliation.

23 Mather rarely engages in significant discussions of grace, describing only God’s use of affliction as an instrument of mercy, the “Flagellum Dei,” as in Angel, 5. His silence may be telling. But also important are hints that Mather’s view of grace was defective, from the Calvinist perspective, because he intimates that grace follows repentance. In one such example, he encourages a sinner to repent, then writes that doing so will yield “a wonderful Display of Sovereign Grace” (Angel, 119). See also “Advice from the Watch Tower,” 198, where grace succeeds repentance. An undeveloped and weak view of grace would certainly impact his preaching on hell, as I have suspected.

24 Angel, 96. This passage is especially incredible given his family situation and the suffering he observed, as noted above. He also writes, “You are sensible that it has been a time of much calamity in this town, and that I, whom [sic] am far from being the least sinner in the place, have not been the least sufferer in the calamity,” in a letter to George Corwyn, December 22, 1713, in Selected Letters, 145.

25 Cotton Mather, “Maternal Consolations” (Boston, 1714), in New England Funeral Sermons, Ronald A. Bosco, ed. (Delmar, NY: Scholars’ Facsimiles and Reprints, 1978), 73.

26 Mather, “The Voice of God in a Tempest,” 272.

27 Unfortunately, Mather nowhere explores the tie, if any, between the corporate sin and judgment previously discussed and the individual spiritual states of society’s members. Why would a blameless Christian suffer the discipline of God for the wrongs of the greater society? If society as a whole is morally corrupt, can a Christian be blameless?

28 Mather, “The Voice of God in a Tempest,” 272.

29 Mather, Angel, 11.

30 Cotton Mather, in Parentator, quoted in Levin, 106. See also “Right Thoughts” (London, 1689), quoted in Levin, 138.

31 Mather, “Hades Look’d into,” 128. One of Mather’s best discussions of death per se occurs in this article, which emphasizes God’s authority over the circumstances of human death, and destiny thereafter. For a general discussion, see Gordon E. Geddes’ Welcome Joy: Death in Puritan New England (Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1981).

32 Mather, Angel, 20.

33 Ibid., 6.

34 Mather, “Advice from the Watch Tower,” 196.

35 Mather, Angel, 55.

36 Ibid., 37. Chiefly in The Angel of Bethesda, Mather describes the rational soul as the domain of the juncture of God with man, that place in which the Holy Spirit dwells in the regenerate, and in which vacuous spiritual darkness prevails in the unregenerate. But Mather takes another step beyond the rational soul by proposing the Nishmath-Chajim, a principle which serves as a mediator, the “Middle Nature,” between rational soul and body (28). The Nishmath-Chajim is a God-given principle, comparable to instinct in animals, which animates both rational soul and body, enabling them to function as a unit (32). But it is more than an abstraction or a spirit; it consists of substantive particles, much like a ray of light. “But by what Principle the Particles of it, which may be finer than those of the Light itself, are kept in their Cohoesion to one another, is a Thing yett unknown unto us” (30).

Mather’s notion of the Nishmath-Chajim is as nebulous as the substance itself, for though he uses the term elsewhere, he never fully develops it and merely toys with its implications for the remainder of his theology. This neglect is especially unfortunate because much of his perspective on suffering and death hinges on his assumption that the MODERN REFORMATION

Nishmath-Chajim plays an integral role in human affliction. The NishmathChajim, just as with the rational soul and body, is transmitted from parent to child in the Traducian fashion. But it is through the Nishmath-Chajim that original sin also is transmitted; consequently, the Nishmath-Chajim is the seat and source of disease (33). Mather writes, “The Soul and the Body constitute One Person; and the Body is unto the Soul, the Instrument of Iniquity.

Hence for the Sins of the one, there come Sufferings on the other” (7). All the while, however, the Nishmath-Chajim is the mediator in this destructive process, being the “Medium of Communication, by which they work upon One another” (28). The dynamic existence of original and customary sin in the Nishmath-Chajim is the root of human affliction, which in turn serves as the “Flagellum Dei pro peccatis Mund” (5).

37 Ibid., 7.

38 Mather, “Advice from Taberah,” 148-149.

39 Mather, Angel, 96.

40 Mather, “Advice from the Watch Tower,” 197.

41 Institutes, 4.14.1.

42 For example, 1 Cor. 11:27-32, and 2 Cor. 13:5-9.

43 Mather, “Hades Look’d into,” 124.

44 Mather, “The Call of the Gospel,” 66.

45 Ibid., 53. The passage reads, “Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life, but whoever rejects the Son will not see life, for God’s wrath remains on him” (NIV).

46 Mather, “The Call of the Gospel,” 42.

47 Mather, Angel, 322.

48 Mather, “Boanerges,” 379.

49 Ibid., 380.

GUILTLESS GOOD NEWS: THE DEFORMED THEOLOGY OF SEEKER SENSITIVITY—Don Matzat 1 Robert Schuller, Self-Esteem: The New Reformation (Waco: Word, 1982), 98.

2 Ray S. Anderson, The Gospel According to Judas (Colorado Springs: Helmer and Howard, 1991), 99.

3 Timothy F. Lull, Martin Luther’s Basic Theological Writings (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1989), 168.

4 John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1983), Vol. I, 211.

5 Paul Tournier, Guilt and Grace (New York: Harper and Row, 1959), 81.

6 David Roberts, Existentialism and Religious Belief (New York: Oxford University Press, 1959) 99.

continued from page 40 Freud’s influence coincided with the third force.

Among the literary avant-garde earlier this century, there was the drive toward graphic, candid realism. It was floated on the tired claim that the artist must tell the truth, just as it is, regardless. Soon, obscenity which offends morals became muddled with vulgarity which simply offends taste. If a book was well written, and therefore as a piece of art did not offend taste, there was no sexual scene which could not be graphically depicted.

John Updike, in our own time, demonstrates this in many of his books, particularly in his Couples. Pornography thus blurred into high art—quite literally in Robert Mapplethorpe’s photographs which showed raw homosexual encounters. Unfortunately, writer Susan Sontag’s idea that pornography is the last frontier left to the adventurous has been overtaken by the candid sexual realism in movies, literature, magazines, and in our talk.

When nothing is unspeakable, the adventure is gone. We have now brought upon ourselves a judgment of unimaginable severity: fornication has become boring.

7

Ewald Plass, What Luther Says (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1959), Vol. III, 1293.

8 Werner Elert, The Structure of Lutheranism (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1962), 81, 85.

9 Elert, 18.

10 Guilt and Grace, 159-160.

11 Existentialism and Religious Belief, 114.

“COMFORT YE MY PEOPLE”: A REFORMATION PERSPECTIVE ON ABSOLUTION LUTHERAN—Rick Ritchie 1 “Every Sheep a Shepherd?,” modernR EFORMATION (Vol. 6, Num. 2: March/April 1997), 28-33. (I must credit pastors Kenneth Korby and William Cwirla for much of the material contained in this article. They are not, however, responsible for any of its shortcomings.)

2 Westminster Dictionary of Church History, ed. by Jerald C. Brauer (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1971), 645.

3 I write of my experience, not to suggest that everyone will find the same to be true for themselves. I don’t know how lifelong Lutherans experience this sacrament. But it may be helpful for evangelicals who have not experienced this but are convinced that it is Scriptural to read the experience of someone else.

REFORMED—Michael S. Horton 1 Calvin, Institutes, 3.4.2.

2 3.4.3.

3 3.4.10.

4 3.4.11.

5 3.4.12.

6 3.4.12; italics added.

7 3.4.12.

8 3.4.14.

9 3.4.14.

REVIEW—Shane Rosenthal 1 The liner notes of the V. O. L. compact disc: Blister Soul.

2 Is. 61:10, Matt. 22:9-13, John 17:19, Rom. 1:17, Rom. 5:19, Rom. 10:24, 1 Cor. 1:30, 2 Cor. 5:21, Phil. 3:8-9.

Shame has many voices, some good and some bad.

False shame makes us embarrassed about our ears or noses; bad shame makes us embarrassed to confess Christ. Good shame is the siren of our moral nature; and good shame is what also cordons off our private life from what is public. What is intimate cannot be nourished and what is vulnerable cannot be protected outside this screen. In our therapeutic culture, all shame is taken to be an appalling affliction for which a remedy must be sought. The ultimate liberation, it is thought, is to be utterly shameless. Not so. False and bad shame are scourges but good shame is a precious gift.

Reticence has nothing to do with Victorian prudery, or Puritanical repression; it has everything to do with the protection of another’s dignity and the nurture of creation’s good gifts.

Dr. David F. Wells, a member of the Council of the Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals, is the Andrew Mutch Distinguished Professor of Theology at Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary in South Hamilton, Massachusetts.

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ON MY MIND

By David F. Wells

Whatever Happened to Reticence? have just returned from the local supermarket where I conducted a small experiment. First, I walked through the check-out line and looked over the magazines which everyone has to pass. There, of course, was the Cosmo girl of the month, showing quite a bit of skin, and sex was apparently not too far from her mind.

“Make Him Beg For It,” the magazine advised in one of its headlines. Marie Claire had an article on “Best Sex.” Glamour was offering advice to women on “New Bedroom Mistakes,” Self on how to get sexy thighs, Redbook on the ten best things to do to a man, and YM on “Get Sexy: 101 Ways to Look and Feel Like a Babe.”

The National Inquirer had just stumbled across evidence of a sexual liaison between Andrew Cunanan, Gianni Versace’s alleged killer, and Tom Cruise, while Globe announced that the late Princess Di had been binging again and had put on weight.

Once through the line I then lingered on the other side of the counter to observe the other shoppers. (It is not easy to look inconspicuous in the supermarket, doing nothing, while everyone else is on a mission!)

Nevertheless, I noted what I expected. Most people were either oblivious to these magazines or blasé about them. It is tr ue, of course, that they are not pornographic and they do not have the gamy offerings that can be found in Playboy and Penthouse. Is this not, however, their significance? These magazines are so very ordinary. They appear alongside People and TV Guide, there beside the candy and gum. Their presence tells us that the intimate details of private sexual life have now become accepted topics in our public talk, that what once could only be found in a sex manual is now to be discovered everywhere in everyday magazines.

This commercialization of sex requires that what is private be spilled out into what is public. The disappearance of this line between private and public is now so much a part of our modern experience that we may forget that previous generations viewed these matters differently. So, when I returned home, I picked up Rochelle Gurstein’s fine book, The Repeal of Reticence: A History of America’s Cultural and Legal Struggles Over Free Speech, Obscenity, Sexual Liberation, and Modern Art, to get some perspective.

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NOVEMBER/DECEMBER 1997

Over the last century, advocates of public reticence have lost a string of important discussions. In the process they look like champions of repressive prudery. They also came off as unsophisticated clods. The ease with which we now talk about matters which once made our mothers blush, however, is at the confluence of three developments in which these people were on the losing side. First, we have become used to investigative reporting that makes public the private details of peoples’ lives. Revelations about public people—all kinds of revelations—have become commonplace, not only in scandal sheets like the National Inquirer, but in mainstream journalism as well. The public has an appetite for it. Inquiring minds always want to know! What happens, however, is that when the intimate is made public, or personal failures are paraded for others, these aspects of someone else’s life become trivialized because consumers use them simply as entertainment. In a moment, what was deep, or perhaps painful, is emptied out.

Not only so, but in a democracy we think we have a right to know everything. Consequently, the standards of what should become public knowledge are prone to keep falling as our newspapers and magazines keep pandering to the public’s brazen curiosity. The remarkable selfrevelations on the TV talk shows, made by mostly unremarkable people, are themselves a testimony to this.

What is said, even about the most intimate matters, is said casually, unblinkingly. And it would be wrong to imagine that these talk shows are the new confessionals of a secular age. No. Those who come to reveal themselves come, not for forgiveness, but for attention.

Then there was Sigmund Freud. Moralists had usually thought sexual indiscretions were a problem in life but Freud thought otherwise. He argued that the real problem was sexual reticence. So began an ever franker conversation that now permeates our time in the form of sex education. When America was on the cusp of the “sexual revolution” in 1960, the illegitimacy rate was only 5 percent. By 1993, that figure had increased 400 percent, despite (or, is it because of ?) the most ambitious program in sex education ever devised. It is one in which nothing is left to the imagination. continued on page 39 MODERN REFORMATION

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The White Horse Inn is a weekly radio program produced by the Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals.

Each week the hosts talk about impor tant theological topics from both the Lutheran and Reformed perspectives.

Dr. Michael S. Horton is the author/editor of ten books, including, Beyond Culture Wars, Putting Amazing Back Into Grace. Dr. Kim Riddlebarger is copastor of Christ Reformed Church in Placentia, California. Dr. Rod Rosenbladt is a Professor of Theology and Christian Apologetics at Concordia University in Irvine, California.

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CURRENT SERIES August 17–December 30—The Greatest Story Ever Told Have you ever wondered what the Bible is all about?

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