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Archive for July, 2009

As I was reading Timothy George on Calvin he made reference to his famous extra Calvinisticum doctrine. Extra Calvinisticum is Latin for “Calvin’s doctrine of the outer/beyond.” It means that during his earthly life, the Son of God retained existence outside his earthly body. He remained infinite while becoming finite: he remained omnipresent while becoming localized. Think of it like this: was the second member of the Trinity, the eternal Word of God, God the Son – was he still “sustaining all things by his powerful word” (Heb. 1:3, cf. Col. 1:15) in the year 15 AD? Calvin (with Athanasius) answers yes, and therefore he must still have been omnipresent and fully divine: that is the extra-Calvinisticum.

I’ll never forget going over this in my Christ and Salvation class with Dr. Peterson. There were two problems that sprang up in my mind: first, is this irrational? How does it not violate the law of non-contradiction to say that Christ was both finite and infinite, both localized and omnipresent? Second, does this square with with orthodox, Chalcedonian Christology? Does positing a local, human Christ and an omnipresent, divine Christ lead to the old Nestorian error of having two separate Christs? Are Calvin and Athanasius substituting the orthodox Christ of one person with two natures for the heretical Christ of two people with two natures?

After going over this in class I thought about all the rest of the day, and the next day, until I arrived upon a consideration that seemed to me to absolve both of these problems simultaneously. I was once again reminded of Barth’s language that heaven and earth are infinitely, qualitatively distinct. “Heaven” and “earth” are not two different places in the same realm, like St. Louis and Nashville are two different places in the same realm. They are, rather, altogether different realms. It would be irrational (and possibly Nestorian) to posit that the human body of Christ was literally and actually in both Jerusalem and Bethlehem at the same time in the year 15 AD. However, “Jerusalem and Bethlehem” do not correspond to “heaven and earth.” There is not a one to one correspondence between heaven and earth: they are infinitely, qualitatively distinct.

Therefore Christ is able to be fully localized on earth and remain “extra” just as Tolkien could have written himself into the story of the Lord of the Rings (thus having the properties of a character in that story) while still remaining in Oxford (thus retaining his original properties). Tolkien could not have traveled to Cambridge while remaining in Oxford; but he could have written himself into Middle Earth while remaining in Oxford. That is because Middle Earth and Oxford are not just different places, like Oxford and Cambridge, but different realms. In the same, mysteriously and wonderfully, the Logos is able to become fully man on earth while remaining fully God in heaven: one person with two natures; to use the language I have been using here, one person in two different realms.

But how is this possible? As Barth says elsewhere, “actuality entails possibility.” Because Christ did become fully God and fully man in one person, it must be possible. Of course, being a part of earth and not heaven, we are not in a position to say how it is possible – anymore than Frodo and Aragorn and Gandalf can sit around talking about Tolkien and Oxford unless Tolkien enables them. But because Christ has been revealed to us in history, the Bible, and the Spirit’s work in our hearts as God, then we know that it is possible. Whatever happens is possible.

Precisely because God is infinite, he is able to become finite. With God, distance and nearness are ultimately the same. “Darkness is as light to you.”

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Band of Brothers

I have been watching these a bit while in Nashville and totally been getting sucked into the story. Once you get past the first episode into D-day, it really picks up. They are so good! I highly recommend them if you have not seen them.

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I have been reading Timothy George’s Theology of the Reformers, and I was deeply struck by George’s summary of Luther’s defense of the doctrine of predestination against the objection that it impugns the justice and goodness of God on pp. 77-78. Luther, like Calvin, believed in a strong and unflinching doctrine of double predestination: God has eternally decreed some to everlasting life, and others to everlasting death, to the praise of his glorious grace and justice. He calls this doctrine “strong wine, and solid food for the strong.”

Luther defends his view of election against the criticism that it makes God evil and/or capricious by radically centralizing the value of the glory of God. He claims that objections to divine election generally place human destiny in the center, and God’s glory in the periphery, which is bound to skew justice. For Luther, only the regenerate heart which has tasted the glory of God as the infinite value and reference point that it is can see justice rightly. In other words, the huge problem of divine sovereignty and hell is ultimately swallowed up in the even huger reality of the glory of God. Only by being regenerated can one see – and taste – how this is not a non-answer.

Luther also distinguishes between the light of nature, the light of grace, and the light of glory. I find this distinction very helpful. Just as there are many things that we see in the light of grace that we could not possibly understand by the light of nature, so there will be much that we will see in the light of glory that we cannot possibly understand in the light of grace. Therefore Christian faith has a drama, a mystery, and a tension to it as it waits for the eschatological vindication of its content.

Finally, Luther’s pastoral advice to those struggling with doubts about their election is telling. To weaker Christians, he says, “thank God for your torments!” They are evidence that God’s grace is at work in your heart. To stronger Christians, Luther encourages them to “resign themselves to hell if God wills this” – in other words, to so love the glory of God as to be content to be damed if only it would further the glory of God.

Wow. I find this emphasis on the radical centrality of the glory of God gripping. I do not claim to have it mastered, but I want to see more of it. This is “strong wine” indeed!

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Some various things I am learning in my spiritual walk right now:

1) I spend too much time seeking to learn new truths, and too little time seeking to apply the truths I already know. I need basic gospel application much more urgently than I need to search out finer points of doctrine. Both depth and width are necessary, and I am more shallow than narrow.

2) I spend too much time living in the past and the future, and too little time in the present. At times I focus on everything and therefore cannot enjoy anything. I often forget my finitude.

3) I spend too much time praying that God would change my circumstances, and too little that God would change my heart. My greatest need is not to be here or there, as I so often fret about, but to become a godly man. My perspective needs continual realignment to what my true needs are.

4) I spend too much time being grumpy, and too little time being grateful. If I think about the gospel, the great exchange, what I deserve versus what I receive, for anything more than a few seconds, this becomes immediately apparent! The Christian should have infinite gratitude.

5) I spend too much time trying to find significance through achievements, and too little time reflecting on the personal, electing love of Christ for me, amidst all my problems. I am coming to see that a greater sense of the love of Christ is always the answer and the way forward.

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Richard Sibbes, The Bruised Reed, 10-11, in discussing “spiritual bruising,” answers the question, “how shall we know whether we are such as may expect mercy?” with 8 descriptions which I found humbling and enlightening:

1) “By the bruised here is not meant those that are brought low only by crosses, but such as, by them, are brought to see their sin, which bruises most of all…. All lesser troubles run into this great trouble of conscience for sin.”

2) “A man truly bruised judges sin the greatest evil, and the favour of God the greatest good.”

3) “He would rather hear of mercy than kingdom.”

4) “He has poor opinions of himself, and thinks that he is not worth the earth he treads on.”

5) “Towards others he is not censorious, as being taken up at home, but is full of sympathy and compassion to those who are under God’s hand.”

6) “He thinks that those who walk in the comforts of God’s Spirit are the happiest men in the world.”

7) He trembles at the word of God (Isa. 66:2), and honours the very feet of those blessed instruments that bring peace unto him (Rom. 10:15).

8) “He is more taken up with the inward exercises of a broken heart than with formality, and is yet careful to use all sanctified means to convey comfort.”

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George Washington

My study this summer took a very unexpected turn into American political history, but the phase is wearing off. In a final burst of interest, I finished off Ellis’ Founding Brothers this morning (which is one of the most well-written books I have ever read in my life), and took particular notice of his chapter on George Washington.

What struck me most about Elli’s portrait of Washington was Washington’s sincere willingness to give up power, which I take to be both his finest personal quality and greatest service to our nation. What made Washington great, in my opinion, beyond his military bravery and skill, his keen insight into American future destiny, his call for national unity throughout and at the close of his career, or his unpopular but wise support of the Jay Treaty, was his ability to exert strong leadership during the extremely fragile infant years of the American Republic without becoming a self-serving dictator. He exerted the commanding leadership the nation needed at its inception (one biographer captured his commanding presence by saying that “his body did not just occupy space; it seemed to organize the space around it” [124]), but he did make himself irreplaceable or seek permanent power. He became what Ellis called “the core of gravity that prevented the American Revolution from flying off into random orbits” (121), but his voluntary resignation after only two terms established an important precedent for future presidents (lasting almost 200 years) and limited executive power. If Washington was not essential, no President would be.

Specifically, I think of his refusal in 1783 to become the head of a group of insurrectionists intent on making him an American Caesar. Ellis, 130: “Upon learning that Washington intended to reject the mantle of emperor, no less an authority than George III allegedly observed, ‘if he does that, he will be the great man in the world.’” Throughout his public career, he was very reluctant in his leadership, often thinking of retirement, and, so far as I can tell, serving not out of ambition but out of an awareness of his necessity.

In my opinion, Washington’s non-ambition (so historically rare among military leaders turned political) is, above all, what made him such an extraordinary leader and President. He was a powerful enough leader to stabilize the nation during its fragile infancy, but not so powerful as to become a Napoleon. Paradoxically, his greatness was that he did not seek greatness.

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This morning I studied Hebrews 1:6: “And again, when (God) brings the firstborn into the world, he says, ‘let all God’s angels worship him.’”

Amidst other questions, I was curious what event (if any) is being referred to with the words “when (God) brings his firstborn into the world.”

I was surprised to discover that Lane, Ellingworth, and Attridge (three weighty commentators) all argue that it refers to the Son’s enthronement/exaltation.

I’m not exactly sure how to assess this, but its amazing how frequently the motif of Christ’s exaltation/enthronement keeps recurring throughout the commentaries. I think there is something to this – a lot falls into place in Hebrews when this aspect of Christ’s work is kept in the foreground.

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I received an email after my last post suggesting that although Madison’s accomplishments in the drafting and ratification of the Constitution are often noted by historians, his service to our country as President is often under-appreciated. Having persevered through the last few chapters of Ralph Ketcham’s biography today with a special eye on this question, I would have to agree that Madison was an above average President, and that many of the common criticisms of his Presidency are unfair.

First, Madison is often said to have radically changed his views throughout his political career, and especially while serving as President. Specifically, he is said to have broken with his 1777-8 nationalism in the 1790′s to favor States’ rights, strict Constitutionalism, and opposition to Alexander Hamilton’s federalism – only to revert back to a nationalistic stance and reliance upon “implied powers” in the early 18th century while Secretary of State and then President. My reading of Ketcham, however, has convinced me to see these (undeniable) developments in his thought as different applications of basically consistent principles in light of changing circumstances. In 1777-8, he was reacting against the threat of anarchy and infighting among the States under the Articles of Confederation; in 1791 and following, he was reacting against Hamilton’s push for centralized government, including a national bank, debt assumption, and a powerful and independent executive branch.

Madison’s constitutional nationalism of 1777-8 was a different kind of nationalism then that represented by Alexander Hamilton in the early 90′s, and the danger of anarchy under the Articles of Confederation was a different kind of danger than Hamilton’s vision of unbalanced federal power. Different settings called for different stances, but his goal throughout was consistent: a robust republican form of government which is strong enough to govern and protect, but restrained by checks and balances, and subordinate to the will of the people. As Ketcham puts it, “it should not be surprising that, in a new nation, under an untried system of government, this commitment [to viable republicanism] should result in changing tactics and even reversals of fortune” (605). In addition, it must be noted that Madison’s changes were changes motivated not by selfish advantage, but sincere conviction.

A good resource on this whole issue is Gordon Wood’s chapter “Is there a James Madison Problem?” in this book, in which he argues against the view that there are two different James Madisons.

Second, Madison is often portrayed as a better thinker than a leader, a better theorist than an executive. In my view, there is some truth to this claim – he often gave others an impression of being irresolute and evasive, and during the War of 1812, he was far too patient with incompetent Generals and members of his cabinet. At the same time, he also gave the impression of being informed and self-possessed, and in slower, more judicial matters he exercised an effective leadership. He may not have been a dazzling leader, but neither was he an unstable one. Also, it should be noted that only a very few Presidents have possessed that rare combination of wisdom and strength that makes a truly great leader. Having to choose one or the other, I would rather a have a wise President without strength than a strong President without wisdom.

Third, Madison is criticized for leading us into war. It if doubtful, however, that any President in his shoes could have kept us out of war. The truth is that British aggression at sea made war almost impossible to avoid, no matter what diplomatic efforts were made.

If Madison cannot be blamed for leading us into war, however, the charge that he did not adequately prepare the nation for war has more merit. The republican ideals of the Jefferson-Madison years were at odds with having a standing army, and Madison didn’t begin to really bulk up the military until November 1811, when war was practically on our doorstep. As a result, when we declared war, the British Navy outnumbered ours 50 to 1! The failure to defend the capital, to strengthen and organize the military, and to oversee the general conduct of the war and make things happen is, in my view, Madison’s greatest weakness as President. For example, when the enemy was drawing dangerously close to the capital, Madison allowed General Winder to squander week after week without adequate preparation, leaving the British march to Washington almost completely unchecked. Ketcham: “presuming, as is generally warranted by the record, that Madison knew the preparations he deemed essential to the defense of Washington were not being made, he failed as commander-in-chief by not correcting the situation by whatever means necessary” (585).

One of the lessons I draw from this book is that in a time of crisis, thoughtful deliberation is not enough. People need strong, decisive leadership. Also, I am reminded of the need for a strong military, which paradoxically is often the surest guardian of peace.

But I think the greatest lesson we can learn from Madison has to with his lifelong concern about centralized governmental power. In this, Madison the political theorist and Madison the President both sound the same warning. He teaches us not only in his famous Federalist Paper #10, but also in his concern not over-extend executive power while a war-time President. While his lower view of executive power exposed the nation to great danger, it also reflected a healthy fear of danger in the opposite direction, where we tend to err in more recent times. In a day of preemptive wars, massive economic bailouts, a huge federal beaurocracy, a greatly expanded executive branch, and high taxing that would shock the founders, I think Madison’s concerns merit careful and critical reflection (no matter what our politics are).

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In my continued venture into American political history, I have been working my way through Ralph Ketcham’s biography of James Madison.

I have really enjoyed it and learned a lot from it. In particular, I have enjoyed the chapter on the debates over ratification of the Constitution. Not only is it fascinating to see how this discussion played out, but I am finding it a great way to learn about our system of checks and balances and why it works so well. I am once again impressed with how narrowly success (in this case ratification) was achieved.

The book’s main weakness, in my opinion, has to do with readability. While it conveys an impressive amount of information about Madison’s life, it is not governed and organized by an overall interpretation of his importance, so the reader is often left overwhelmed by facts and without a sense of context and flow. One wishes Ketcham paused more frequently to reflect on the significance of the events he is narrating – at the very least, an introductory or concluding chapter, set apart from the chronology of Madison’s life, would have been helpful. The task of a good history book, it seems to me, is not merely to tell the story, but to do so in a way that is interesting and accessible.

I am wondering if, in some cases, a more engaging way to write history is to focus in on key events and offer “snapshots,” rather than to go by strict chronology. A book that does this well is Founding Brothers: The Revolutionary Generation, by Joseph J. Ellis, which I began yesterday. It focuses in on six different events – the Burr-Hamilton duel in 1804, the Jefferson-Adams letter correspondence after they were both retired, Washington’s farewell address, and three others – and shows how these little stories interweave with the larger story of our nation’s birth and infancy. Through this very engaging format, Ellis is able to cover a wide range of topics without losing unity and flow. He shows how our nation was not only legally bound by a formal system of checks and balances in our founding documents, but naturally bound by an informal system of checks and balances in the personalities and ideologies of our diverse founding fathers.

For its brevity, its diverse range of topics, and its well-written prose, I recommend this book as the best place to start in reading early American political history.

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In my own words, 10 things we learn about Jesus Christ from Hebrews 1:1-4:

1) He is the greatest revelation of God in history.
2) He is the heir of all things – i.e., his “inheritance” is reality itself.
3) Everything was made through Him.
4) By addition of (2) + (3), He is the key agent at both the beginning and the end of time (cf. Col. 1:16).
5) He is the shining out (apaugasma) of God’s glory.
6) He is the full representation of God’s very essence or being.
7) He upholds the entire universe through his authoritative power. Without him, nothing would hold together (cf. Colossians 1:17: “by him all things consist.”)
8) He made purification for sins.
9) He sits at God’s majestic right hand in heaven. Ellingworth: “the right hand … is a natural metaphor for power…. To sit or stand … on an important person’s right side is a sign of honor in many cultures …. To sit at God’s right hand is therefore to share in his power without limitation.”
10) He is exalted over the angels.

In short, He is Creator, Sustainer, Ruler, Revealer, and Redeemer. He has union with God without limitation – full Deity and full glory with God the Father and the Holy Spirit. All things are from Him at the beginning, all things are upheld by Him in the present, and all things are for Him at the end. A high Christology!

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