Last year, I completed a long-term goal: I earned my Ph.D. in biblical and religious studies. I’ve been a theological student for 18 years (I’m a slow learner, after all!), and have benefited tremendously from the teaching ministries of many godly and wise professors, as well as interaction with my fellow students.  However, for this final milestone, I did something rather unconventional in my circles.  I earned the degree from a “liberal” school, and one on the other side of the world, at that.

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m a theological conservative, and a thoroughgoing evangelical.  So were my professors.  My most influential professors were graduates of the Southern Baptist seminaries, Dallas Theological Seminary, Liberty University, and Trinity Evangelical Divinity School. These men and women represent the finest thinkers and teachers in the evangelical Christian tradition, and I’m grateful to have learned from them. 

So why would I choose the University of Pretoria for my Ph.D.?  First, it has a reputation for academic excellence.  UP is ranked among the top 500 (it placed 305 in academic reputation) universities in the world.  My department, the department of humanities, placed at number 292.   There are over 17,000 institutions of higher learning on the planet, so this puts Pretoria in the top 3% of all schools.  When compared to American schools, Pretoria falls into the same category as Syracuse University and The College of William and Mary, and ranks higher than Marquette, Fordham, Baylor, and Loyola, for example. I knew that to earn the degree, I would have to perform at a high level.  Consequently, the degree would carry weight.

But academic excellence is not the only reason for my choice. I was educated in a theological bubble, and I wanted to push the boundaries of that bubble.  My doctoral mentor was Ernest van Eck, one of the prominent scholars and churchmen of the Netherdutch Reformed Church of South Africa.  He is one of the leading lights of social-scientific criticism.  I was schooled in the historical-critical method, and had barely heard of social-scientific criticism when I began my doctoral studies.  From the start, I was forced to look at the biblical text with new eyes.  I had to learn a new approach to hermeneutics, then apply it to the New Testament.  Without compromising my view of the inerrancy of scripture, I had to learn to read it differently, and I could never quantify the benefit this has given me as preacher and teacher of the Bible.

Dr. van Eck’s doctoral mentor was Andries van Aarde, the preeminent “historical Jesus” scholar of South Africa.  Dr. van Aarde was a founding member of the Jesus Seminar, which is about as far left theologically as one can go.  Dr. van Eck’s perspective is not as radical as that of the Jesus Seminar, but neither could I assume that he and I looked at the text from the same perspective.  Suddenly, it was not sufficient simply to assert my theological views on the biblical text; I had to defend them.  I had to articulate them in a way that makes sense and passes muster with someone who may not agree with my presuppositions.  The more I wrote for Dr. van Eck, the more focused and clear my thinking became.  My views did not change, but they did take on a clearer and sharper contrast as I had to re-think how best to articulate them.

Eventually, I found myself writing for Dr. van Aarde as well, since a portion of my dissertation was revised and published as an article in Hervormed Theologies Studies, a scholarly journal of which Dr. van Aarde is the senior editor.  If you are an evangelical who has never had to present your interpretation of a gospel passage to a senior member of the Jesus Seminar, you don’t know what you are missing!  The article went through three revisions before final publication. Yes, it got frustrating, but excellence requires hard work, and frustration is to be expected. In the end, I was a much more capable scholar with a greater understanding of the text, and for that, I am grateful.

I should clarify here: at no time did I experience any antagonism for my theological views; they simply were not mutually agreed upon.  If I wanted to assert the canonicity of a disputed text, for instance, it was not enough to claim inerrancy and move on.  I had to make a strong case for accepting the text, account for the views of those opposed to my position, and reconcile them- before moving on to an interpretation of the text. I was pushed gently but firmly to clarify my views, by a scholar who loves the Lord, loves His Word, and loves the church. 

Based on my experience, I encourage all thoughtful Christians to do two things: first, become absorbed in the bubble of your theological perspective.  I earned degrees from Florida Baptist Theological College and Liberty Baptist Theological Seminary, and also studied at Southern Evangelical Seminary long before I enrolled at UP.  I had a strong grasp of the evangelical theological tradition, and of conservative, historical approaches to biblical text.  These are indispensable.  You may not be in a position to attend a college or seminary, but you can certainly take advantage of numerous resources in print, online, and in your church. In America today, no Christian has any excuse for not learning his or her theological tradition thoroughly.

Second, get someone to push the boundaries of your bubble.  When you feel confident in what you believe, seek out people who are competent to challenge those views.  Read books by authors with whom you disagree (Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan have been helpful to me in this respect), and consider their arguments well.  Whether or not you are personally able to refute these arguments may not be relevant- the contrast will help to clarify your own thought.  Find a Christian brother or sister who sincerely believes in evolution, or gay marriage, or doubts the doctrine of inerrancy, or believes that Jesus is not the only way to heaven.  Talk.  Don’t argue- dialogue.  The more your strongly held beliefs scrape up against beliefs that run counter to them, the stronger they should become.  You don’t have to win a debate to benefit greatly from sharing meaningful fellowship with someone who sees things different, and you certainly don’t have to compromise your convictions simply to understand someone else’s.

Your theological bubble should get larger over time, not smaller, and this only happens as you find people who can push its limits for you.

Richard Baxter on the Dangers of Worldliness

S. H. Mathews (c) 2014

Meet Mr. Worldly-Wiseman

Many years ago, in a jail on a bridge in Bedford, England, sat a tinker, braiding shoelaces to feed his family.  His name was John Bunyan; his crime was preaching without a license.  He was destined to write the greatest allegory of Christian faith ever put to paper: The Pilgrim’s Progress.

In the story, a Christian is making his way to heaven.  Along the way, he encounters distractions, dangers, diversions, and dungeons.  Eventually, he reaches the heavenly city, much the wiser for his journey.  One of the antagonists in Bunyan’s story is Mr. Worldly-Wiseman, who sees Christian struggling under the burden of the Christian life.  Christianity is not supposed to be so difficult, he tells Christian.  God wants you to take the journey, but He does not actually expect that you exert yourself.  Read his words:

“I would advise thee, then, that thou with all speed get thyself rid of thy burden; for thou wilt never be settled in thy mind till then; nor canst thou enjoy the benefits of the blessing which God hath bestowed upon thee till then.”

Richard Baxter of Kidderminster knew Mr. Worldly-Wiseman all too well.   As a pastor, he had seen too many of his flock lured away by a love for the things of the world.  He wrote a book to help his people see the glory of heaven, and the need to cherish it above all else.  It is called The Saints’ Everlasting Rest.  Published in 1652, Baxter’s little book identifies several dangers of worldliness, and points us to the only cure.

No Excuses

The first danger of worldliness is that it is so easy to justify.  If our focus is on the world, it is because we are important and have many responsibilities; or because other people are counting on us; or because we are too practical to live as monks and nuns or because we are certainly not Fundamentalists, huddled in the ghetto of traditionalism, fearing lest the demon of modernism should creep among us, killing us in our sleep with his bare hands.

We find positive reasons for our worldliness: it is responsible to focus on the here and how, and besides, how can we witness to the world if we do are not up on the latest trend?  There is a fine line between understanding the world and sympathizing with it, between being a holy light in the marketplace of people and ideas, and being so immersed in the spirit of the age that it redefines Christ for us.  But if we cross this line, it is the honest mistake of an honest Christian.  We were, after all, simply trying to do the right thing.  If anything, we are martyrs in our worldliness, sacrificing our holiness so that others may know Christ.

It may sound noble, but it is a serious mistake.  No matter how we justify our focus on the stuff of earth, we are ignoring the lesson history and experience teaches us time and time again: you cannot love the world and seek the Kingdom.

Richard Baxter understood this well when he wrote:

“O the cursed madness of many that seem to be religious! They thrust themselves into a multitude of employments, till they are so loaded with labors and clogged with cares, that their souls are as unfit to converse with God, as a man to walk with a mountain on his back; and as unapt to soar in meditation, as their bodies to leap above the sun! And when they have lost that heaven upon earth which they might have had, they take up with a few rotten arguments to prove it lawful; though, indeed, they cannot. I advise thee, Christian, who hast tasted the pleasures of a heavenly life, if ever thou wouldst taste them more, avoid this devouring gulf of an earthly mind.” (Baxter 1997: 173)

If we are wise, we will learn to recognize the justifications we give for our worldliness as the feeble lies they are.  No one ever soared in his spirit to the heights of heaven, no one was ever transfixed by the beauty of Christ, while counting his money or watching a raunchy sitcom.  No material gain can ever compensate for spiritual loss.

From Here to Eternity

Various metaphors have been offered for the Christian life: a battle, a journey, a race, the sowing and reaping of a field.  All these metaphors have one element in common: leaving one thing behind for another.  The battle must culminate in victory, the journey must reach its destination, the runner must cross the finish line, the field planted in spring must be harvested.  The finite must surrender to the infinite, time to eternity, the here-and-now to the there-and-then.  We cannot have the world and the Kingdom.

This is why worldliness is so dangerous.  It is dangerous because it is a choice for the before rather than the after.  It is dangerous because it is an allegiance, an alliance.  Remember, “where your treasure is, there shall your heart be also.”

Richard Baxter puts it well:

“The worldly-minded are so taken up in seeking the things below, that they have neither heart nor time to seek this rest. O foolish sinners, “who hath bewitched you?” The world bewitches men into brute beasts, and draws them even to madness. See what riding and running, what scrambling and catching for a thing of naught, while eternal rest lies neglected!” (Baxter 1997: 177)

Baxter is right- we scurry around like field mice, clutching at gimmicks and gadgets like so many paltry grains of wheat, stuffing our cheeks until they ache.  We are cluttered, busy, clamoring animals.  Is this what God intended when He put His image within us?

Baxter describes us further:

“What contriving and caring to get a step higher in the world than their brethren, while they neglect the kingly dignity of the saints! What insatiable pursuit of fleshly pleasures, while they regard the praises of God, the joy of angels, as a tiresome burden! What unwearied diligence in raising their posterity, enlarging their possessions… while judgment is drawing near!” (Baxter 1997: 86)

There is even a contemporary title to describe us: consumers.  Have you ever thought what an insult it is to be called a consumer?  The term is akin to a swarm of locusts, mindlessly devouring everything in its path, leaving destruction, waste, and despair, to no purpose.  Consumers think that the world exists for their consumption.  And if the world exists to be consumed, then we must exist to consume.  If we think we were made for this world, how will we long for the world to come?  If we attain it, how shall we enjoy it?  Baxter again:

“But how it shall go with them then, never brings them to one hour’s consideration! What rising early and sitting up late, and laboring from year to year, to maintain themselves and children in credit till they die!” (Baxter 1997: 86)

This consumerism even reflects itself in our worship.  We are consumers, so we praise God for giving us objects to consume.  How many of our prayers are wasted on our own materialism?  We have a chance to spend time in the presence of Lord of Heaven and Earth, the One who has freely given us all things- even His Son, His Holy Spirit, and His word, and all we can think to do is ask Him for more stuff.

Is it Well With Your Soul?

Prayer is an inherently honest enterprise.  When we pray, we bring to God the reality of who we are, whether we intend to or not.  Our motives, desires, and priorities rise to the surface, because God sees below the surface.  Prayer, is, therefore a great and useful mirror into the soul- when we listen to ourselves talking to God, we realize what we think is important.  Baxter compares the worldly Christian to the spiritually minded:

“An earthly mind is another hindrance carefully to be avoided. God and mammon, earth and heaven cannot both have the delight of thy heart. When the heavenly believer is blessing himself in his God, and rejoicing in hope of the glory to come; perhaps thou art blessing thyself in thy worldly prosperity, and rejoicing in hope of thy thriving here.” (Baxter 1997:173)

How many songs have we sung, how many prayers have we prayed, that see no greater virtue in Christ than His ability to satisfy our hedonism?  We delight in God as we delight in finding a great bargain on the discount rack of a store.  Baxter goes on to describe the outworking of this distorted worldview:

“When he is comforting his soul in the views of Christ, of angels and saints, whom he shall live with for ever; then thou art comforting thyself with thy wealth, in looking over thy bills and bonds, thy goods, thy cattle, or thy buildings; and in thinking of the favor of the great, of the pleasure of a plentiful estate, of larger provisions for thy children after thee, of the advancement of thy family, or the increase of thy dependents.” (Baxter 1997: 173)

Baxter sees the comfort of the soul as one of the primary purposes of prayer and worship.  The heavenly minded Christian comforts his soul with a vision of the supremacy of Christ, the majesty of God, the glorious gift of grace.  The worldly Christian comforts his soul with the assurance that his body is cared for- that he is safe, prosperous, and respected- or that he one day shall be.  Is it any wonder that our souls are not comforted?  Do we expect the soul, built for eternity in the presence of God, to be consoled in His absence by the certainty that it will not lack distractions to lure it away from Him?

Always a faithful shepherd and pastor, Baxter brings everything back around to the soul.  He understands that the soul is the substance of human existence, and that our time on earth has one purpose: to fit us for heaven.  For this reason, outer conformity to a template of holiness cannot safeguard against a worldly heart.  Being fitted for heaven has less to do with how we behave on earth than with what we love.  Baxter cautions us:

“The like may be said of the worldly hypocrite, who chokes the Gospel with the thorns of worldly cares and desires. He is convinced that he must be religious, or he cannot be saved; and therefore he reads, and hears, and prays, and forsakes his former company and courses but he resolves to keep his hold of present things. His judgment may say, God is the chief good; but his heart and affections never said so. The world has more of his affections than God, and therefore it is his God.” (Baxter 1997: 88)

It is so easy to deceive ourselves about our worldly hearts because we judge ourselves by our behavior- usually compared to some poor struggling Christian, hand selected for his weakness, to make ourselves appear as saints among mere men.  For Baxter, though, worldliness has little to do with being like the world.  It has to do with loving the world more than Christ.  A Christian can do everything right and still have a worldly heart.  We may deceive everyone else- maybe even ourselves- when we come alone into the presence of God, our deficiency in passion and power overwhelms us.

Baxter writes:

“Though he does not run after opinions and novelties, like the world, yet he will be of that opinion which will best serve his worldly advantage. And as one whose spirits are enfeebled by some pestilential disease, so this man’s spirits being possessed by the plague of a worldly disposition, how feeble is he in secret prayer! how superficial in examination and meditation! how poor in heart-watchings! how nothing at all in loving and walking with God, rejoicing in him, or desiring him! So that both these and many other sorts of hypocrites, though they will go with you in the easy outside of religion, yet will never be at the pains of inward and spiritual duties.” (Baxter 1997: 88-89)

Bad Company

One of Richard Baxter’s great contributions is his focus on self-examination.  Puritans had the habit of keeping journals, in which they would record their sins, prayers, and spiritual progress.  At the end of each day, most puritans would hold a quite time of self-examination, repentance, and prayer.  For Baxter, it is imperative that the Christian follow Plato’s maxims: “know thyself,” and “the unexamined life is not worth living.”  A worldly heart is a barrier to introspection, particularly in relation to the company we keep.  A group of spiritually minded friends provide accountability, encouragement, and motivation to persevere in our Christian walk.  Surrounding ourselves with people who have no concern for inner holiness will blind us the state of our souls and sap our desire for spiritual improvement:

“Another great hindrance to self-examination arises from wicked men. Their example; their merry company and discourse; their continually insisting on worldly concerns; their raillery and scoffs at godly persons: also their persuasions, allurements, and threats, are all of them exceedingly great temptations to security. God doth scarcely ever open the eyes of a poor sinner to see that his way is wrong, but presently there is a multitude of Satan’s apostles ready to deceive and settle him again in the quiet possession of his former master.” (Baxter 1997: 106)

Worldly friends keep us happy in the world.  They ground us to the fleeting reality of the here and now, even as God calls us upward to the infinite.  When we talk about holiness, sacrifice, Christ, or heaven, they either deflate us with their laughter and ridicule, or inflate us with lofty comparisons until we are persuaded that, despite our love of the world, we are spiritually healthy.

Many church-going Christians, especially in areas where Christianity has become engrained in the culture, might object that they do not know any non-Christians, and they certainly do not spend time with them.  Perhaps not, but certainly we all know far too many worldly Christians who are content with playing the game- discipleship without self-discipline, prayer without power and passion, living sanitized, Christianized lives devoid of Christ’s spirit, entranced by the world, enticed by complacency, inflated with self-righteousness.  God help us not to become like them!

The Gift of Suffering

One cannot be a pastor very long (or a human, for that matter) before he learns that suffering is a central experience for humanity.  We see it, we experience it, we run from it, and we blame God for it.  Baxter was a great people-watcher, and his experience taught him that suffering is often God’s antidote to worldliness:

“Afflictions are also God’s most effectual means to keep us from losing our way to our rest. Without this hedge of thorns on the right hand and left, we should hardly keep the way to heaven. If there be but one gap open, how ready are we to find it, and turn out at it! When we grow wanton, or worldly, or proud, how much doth sickness or other affliction reduce us!” (Baxter 1997: 139)

When we live under the assumption that we were created, like brute beasts, to live in pleasure and comfort, we see suffering as a violation of the natural order.  Something has gone terribly wrong, we say, if our happy lives are punctuated by times of discomfort, much less suffering.  We do not deserve to miss a meal or a night’s sleep.  We do not deserve to watch our loved ones suffer and die, and they do not deserve their suffering and death. We are victims, all of us.

Victimization is a reality of human experience.  It always has been, and until the Kingdom comes on earth, we must assume it always will be.  However, there has been a great paradigm shift in our thinking about victimization.  Political liberals have taught us that victimization creates a special status, complete with special privileges.  Victims are the highest class among us, for they are innocents who have been set upon by the dragons of fate for no reason other than blind malice, greed, and hate.

The reality is that we are all victims.  We are victims of the curse of sin, and we are victims of our own sin.  But this reality should not ground us to this world; it should cause a longing for another world- a world in which suffering is alleviated, injustices are vindicated, and perseverance is rewarded.  In short, it should make us long for heaven, not earth.  God gives us the gift of suffering to remind us that we were not made for the here-and-now, that His greatest work has not yet begun, that there is a higher level of living we should strive to attain.

If our assumption were correct- if we were made for pleasure in this world- then suffering would be a serious upheaval of God’s plan.  As it is, though, we were made for another world, and suffering exists in this world to point us to another.  Have you thought that perhaps God doesn’t want us to get too comfortable here?  Why, then, are we surprised when we suffer?

Lead Us Not Into Temptation

Baxter sees one more danger in worldliness: worldliness and idleness are an open door to temptation.  When we are consumed with the mundane realities of this life, we are vulnerable to the snares of the enemy.  Baxter advises:

“If you were but busy in your lawful callings, you would not be so ready to hearken to temptations; much less if you were also busy above with God. Would a judge be persuaded to rise from the bench, when he is sitting upon a case of life and death, to go and play with children in the streets? No more will a Christian, when he is taking a survey of his eternal rest, give ear to the alluring charms of Satan. The children of that kingdom should never have time for trifles, especially when they are employed in the affairs of the kingdom; and this employment is one of the saints’ chief preservatives from temptations.”  (Baxter 1997: 159)

The greatest antidote to loving the things of this world is loving the things of heaven.  If we would set our hearts on the beauty of holiness, the power of godliness, the pleasures of the consecrated life, then we would see sin for the feeble, dirty thing it is.

We are volitional creatures- we make choices based on what we want.  When we sin, it is because in the moment of choice, we desire the sin more than we desire holiness.  Doesn’t it make sense that if we constantly set our hearts on God’s Kingdom, we will desire it more?  Many Christians live in a vicious cycle of temptation, sin, and regret.  We are tempted, we sin, then we loathe ourselves and wonder how in the world we gave in to that sin.  Our resolve is hardened- we will not fall to this temptation again.  But we do, again and again.  Should we be surprised that we give in to sin, when we have not set our hearts on holiness?  Doesn’t it make sense that if we love the things of earth more than the things of heaven, we will chose them in times of temptation?   This is why worldliness is more than misguided affection- it is an open door to the destruction of sin.

What’s A Christian To Do?

What is the answer to worldliness?  What can a Christian do when he looks within himself and sees too much of this earth, too little of heaven?  Baxter, the faithful teacher, does not leave us without instruction.  First, he says, is to treasure Christ above all.  This is not a nonsensical, romantic flight into the ethereal, but a reasoned ordering of our lives:  Borrowing analogies from the Bible, Baxter explains the process of loving Christ above all else:

“Thrust not Christ into the stable and the manger, as if thou hadst better guests for the chief rooms. Say to all thy worldly business and thoughts, as Christ to his disciples, “Sit ye here, while I go and pray yonder;” or as Abraham to his servants, when he went to offer Isaac, “Abide ye here, and I will go yonder and worship, and come again to you.” Even as “the priests thrust king Uzziah out of the temple,” where he presumed to burn incense, when they saw the leprosy upon him; so do thou thrust those thoughts from the temple of thy heart, which have the badge of God’s prohibition upon them.” (Baxter 1997: 197-198)

Remember Richard Baxter’s focus on self-examination?  This is where it comes to fruition.  To love Christ more than all others is something we do, not something we feel.  We do it with our journals, our calendars, our day planners.  Loving Christ is a matter of setting priorities, and putting Him first.

When we hear this, we nod and agree.  It is, after all, nothing we haven’t heard before.  The danger, however, is that when we write our priorities on our hearts, Christ comes pre-printed on the first line.  We like to imagine that this assures His priority, and that what we write in necessarily comes after Him.  The problem is that we tend to skip over Him, because He is already there.  We take the presence of Christ for granted. Rather than put Christ first, we assume Christ first.  We comfort ourselves with the though that Christ is first in our lives, then move on to the next thing, which usually has something to do with ourselves or the people we love most.

This will not do; we must rewrite the list every day- every moment- and put Christ first.  Every choice: Christ first.  Every priority: Christ first.  Every conversation: Christ first.  Every purchase: Christ first.  Every emotion: Christ first.  Worldliness creeps into our lives because we assume Christ and move on.  The cure for worldliness is to be intentional in placing Christ first in our lives, every moment, every action.  Only when we are entranced by Christ, will we not be lured away from Him by the false pleasures of the world.

One might argue, and rightly so, that this sounds quite difficult and time-consuming.  When we reflect on Baxter’s version of the Christian life, we run into the reality that we have filtered out of our reading of the New Testament: holiness is not easy.  In fact, it’s hard work.

Perhaps that’s why Jesus compared following Him to carrying a cross, and why Paul spoke of Christian living as a battle, and called for a summary execution of the enemy (our flesh) every day.  Baxter reminds us that “working out our salvation” is just that- working.

Our generation of consumer Christians wants instant holiness without discipline, sacrifice, suffering, or sweat.  Holiness is wearing the right t-shirt, listening to the right music, going to the right church.  Holiness has become an identity, rather than a calling, a process, the goal of a life well lived.  Baxter explains that discipline is required for holiness:

“When there should be nothing in thy mind but heaven, it will be thinking of thy calling, or thy afflictions, or of every bird, or tree, or place thou seest. The cure is here the same as before: use watchfulness and violence. Say to thy heart, “What! did I come hither to think of my worldly business, of persons, places, news or vanity, or of any thing but heaven, be it ever so good? ‘Canst thou not watch one hour?’ Wouldst thou leave this world and dwell for ever with Christ in heaven, and not leave it one hour to dwell with Christ in meditation?” (Baxter 1997: 227)

May God give His people a vision of the power of godliness!  May He rouse our hearts to the kind of prayer that strengthened Jesus for the cross- blood and sweat and tears; the kind of fasting that sent Nehemiah to rebuild Jerusalem; the kind of repentance that restored David; the kind of suffering that purified Job; the vision that called Isaiah to militancy.  God make our hearts uneasy in this world- make them burn for the next!

 

 

The debate over homosexuality is not going away anytime soon.  Unfortunately, it’s not improving much either.  In this (hopefully) brief post, I’d like to step back from the issue, and talk about how I wish the church would frame the debate.  What follows is a series of propositions I wish the church would embrace in its cultural engagement about homosexuality, and just about every other issue. This is not a post about homosexuality at all, but about foundational presuppositions for the church in engaging the culture on any issue.  It just  happens that the issue of the day is homosexuality.  The same principles could apply to race relations, war, taxation, and the right to life.

I’d like to see the church do theology first.

What does this look like?  First, it means that the debate is rooted in the foundational truths of Christian theology.

Christianity, as a worldview and theological system (of course, Christ is not merely a worldview or system of theology, but in terms of cultural engagement on ethical, these are the operative systems of dialogue) is a coherent, cohesive set of propositional truths which are interrelated, are grounded in Scripture, and which inform our ethics, politics, and lifestyles.  We believe what we believe about homosexuality, abortion, euthanasia, economic justice, war, and any other topic, because of what we believe about God.   Our theology shapes our anthropology, our ethics, and our politics.

In the context of homosexuality, evangelical Christians hold certain beliefs about creation, about the image of God in humanity, about the sanctity of the marriage covenant, and about the God’s use of this covenant as an analogy of His relationship to humanity.  We believe that God created humanity in His image, male and female, incomplete without the other, and with a command to procreate.  We believe that marriage is a divinely instituted relationship in which God intends for human sexuality to be expressed in ways that honor Him.  These are foundational theological tenets, and views about homosexuality arise from them.

Unfortunately, we don’t usually frame the debate about homosexuality in these terms.  The secular world knows very little of our theology, and it seems that the same is true of the church.  Christians become frenetic on social media when Ken Hamm debates Bill Nye about the science of creation, but we seem to be woefully ignorant of the implications of a theology of creation on our ethics and our spiritual formation.

Our view on homosexuality does not arise in a philosophical or theological vacuum, yet we are often drawn into single-issue discussions with people who do not have the theoretical framework to understand our views.  We talk about homosexuality, when we should be talking about theology.  It’s like saying “I don’t want to know about chemistry, I want to know about carbon.”  The church has failed to teach theology to the culture, then we wonder why they can’t understand our positions.

Second, I’d like to see the church reclaim the narrative.  If Christians often look like reactionaries when it comes to homosexuality, it’s because we are.  The narrative is set for us by the media, by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis, by liberal Christians and progressive secularists.  We are drawn into talking points and social media memes, rather than meaningful dialogue which glorifies God and engages culture.

Third, I’d like to see the church embrace a classical view of ethics.  Ethical discourse today usually breaks down into a discussion of what one is or is not permitted to do- “what can I get away with.”  The ancient Greeks understood ethics quite differently, and thanks to Augustine, so did the church for quite some time.  Plato did not ask “what can I get away with?”, but “what kind of person should I be? What does it mean to live a good life?”  Too often, the church gets so bogged down in why they believe it is wrong to be gay, that they never get around to discussing how God wants His people to live.   Ethics should be rooted in devotion; we have reduced it to calculation. We tell the world what they can’t do, but we often don’t tell them what they can be in Christ.

Finally, I’d like to see the gospel take center stage in the discussion. All ethical problems are gospel problems.  Cultural problems are gospel problems.  The problem with the culture is not that there are too many gay people.  The problem is that there are not enough people radically devoted to Jesus Christ.  Let us not allow a single issue to so polarize the church and the world that we lose a hearing for the gospel.

This is not to say that everyone who believes the gospel sees homosexuality the same way.  However, the discussion about homosexuality should be much more meaningful and productive in a context in which people on all sides hold common values of fellowship, devotion to God, obedience to His Word, and accountability to the church.

There is, as always, more to say, but my point is simply to say this: homosexuality is not a primary issue for the church.  It is peripheral. The primary issue is to worship Christ, and the second is like unto it: to lift Him up before all nations so that His glory may fill the earth.  If we want to have meaningful cultural engagement, let us present Christianity as it is, in its fullness.  Let us boldly and clearly proclaim the theological worldview from which our views on ethics arise.  Let us do theology first.