This is an important point that also underscores the importance of a proper ecclesiology. The doctrine of the church is often a forgotten subject in evangelicalism. It is often treated last, if treated in any depth at all, and many people think of ecclesiology as a series of arbitrary or pragmatic choices. But ecclesiology is not arbitrary. It must comply with our other doctrines, and other doctrines are in turn influenced by our ecclesiology. Just think of dispensationalism or Roman Catholicism. The ecclesiologies of both groups fit within an entire system and should not be extracted from it.

The doctrine of the church is found in Scripture and in the Reformed confessions. We ought to be mindful of God’s established structure for the governance and care of his people. And so in this post we will look at several introductory features of ecclesiology as found primarily in the Westminster Confession of Faith. Please take the time to look at the Scripture references accompanying the confession. You can find them in the PDF version of the OPC’s publication.

No Ordinary Group

19^th century Presbyterian theologian Stuart Robinson rightly emphasizes that Christ did not come to establish a group like other groups. Jesus wasn’t interested in forming a band of followers or a school like Socrates. Nor did he simply comprise a group, which he would atone for and then leave to manage on their own. Rather, he came “to found a community, to organize a government, and administer therein as a perpetual king.”[1] The church is no ordinary group, but the assembly of those whom God has called to himself. It is Christ’s body. Robinson defines it as follows:

[…] that elect body of men which was contemplated in the covenant of redemption, as constituting the mediatorial kingdom of Christ, and for the sake of which body he undertood the work of salvation.[2]

Christ’s relationship to his church is ultimately mysterious, but we can learn a bit about it by looking at the institution of marriage. The members are connected to each other through a Spiritual, mystical union that is analogously imaged in the relationship between husband and wife. Paul makes this comparison in Ephesians 5. I commend it to you as a helpful place to start when studying ecclesiology.

As we come to explore the basics of Reformed ecclesiology, it’s important to nail down a few terms. There are several qualifications we make when speaking about the church and there are many helpful distinctions we make as well. Let’s look at a few of these.

Characteristics of the Church

We recognize that the Church has four attributes: it is one, holy, catholic, and apostolic. These attributes distinguish the Christian Church from other religious bodies and sects. It is one, meaning that ultimately we don’t find two bodies, but a single body. It is holy, that is pure, and set apart in God’s sight for God’s purposes. It is “little c” catholic, meaning “universal.” There are not people groups or regions excluded from the body should they believe in Christ. And finally, it is apostolic, meaning it is founded on the teaching of the apostles (cf. Eph 2:20).

In addition to the attributes, the Church has three chief marks: the preaching of the Word, the administration of the sacraments, and church discipline. The Belgic Confession chapter 29 enumerates the Reformed understanding of the marks of the church:

The true church can be recognized if it has the following marks: The church engages in the pure preaching of the gospel; it makes use of the pure administration of the sacraments as Christ instituted them; it practices church discipline for correcting faults. In short, it governs itself according to the pure Word of God, rejecting all things contrary to it and holding Jesus Christ as the only Head. By these marks one can be assured of recognizing the true church—and no one ought to be separated from it.[3]

Each of these are helpful when trying to “spot” the true Church? What is a true church? It is where the Word is properly preached, the sacraments administered, and church discipline conducted.

The Visible and Invisible Church

As Reformed believers, we speak of the invisible church simply as the elect. The Westminster Confession of Faith, 25.1 says the following:

WCF 25.1. The catholic or universal church, which is invisible, consists of the whole number of the elect, that have been, are, or shall be gathered into one, under Christ the Head thereof; and is the spouse, the body, the fullness of him that filleth all in all.

We call it the invisible church in part because the church is universal. We cannot observe it in its entirety at once. Second, it is not fully realized until Christ returns. Saints have gone home to be with the Lord and others have yet to be saved. We cannot observe them either.[4] Third, we are not the judges of men’s hearts. Men and women profess Christ and we admit them to membership in the visible church, but we cannot judge ultimately whether someone is deceiving themselves or making a false profession of faith.

What then is the role and importance of the visible church? The Westminster Confession of Faith describes the visible church in 25.2:

WCF 25.2. The visible church, which is also catholic or universal under the gospel (not confined to one nation, as before under the law), consists of all those throughout the world that profess the true religion; and of their children: and is the kingdom of the Lord Jesus Christ, the house and family of God, out of which there is no ordinary possibility of salvation.

The visible church is important then. Faith comes by hearing and hearing by the Word of God (Rom 10:17). And where does the right preaching of the Word of God occur? In the Church. This is one reason why the Westminster Divines stressed that there is no ordinary possibility of salvation outside the Church. The Church is the location of the means of grace. But at the same time there are members of the visible church who are not members of the invisible church. Moving to 25.3:

WCF 25.3. Unto this catholic visible church Christ hath given the ministry, oracles, and ordinances of God, for the gathering and perfecting of the saints, in this life, to the end of the world: and doth, by his own presence and Spirit, according to his promise, make them effectual thereunto.

The visible church is where the Word is proclaimed and where the sacraments are administered. It’s been said that there are no lone ranger Christians. The point is that believers are called out of darkness into Christ’s marvelous light and incorporated into a body. They have been given the Holy Spirit who connects them together and gifts them so they can be of service within that body. Therefore, the visible church is not an arbitrary choice for Christians who want to have some social functions to be involved with. It is the assembly of the body of Christ and the location of Christ’s ministry with his people. Once again, the confession emphasizes the corporate nature of the Church:

WCF 26.1. All saints, that are united to Jesus Christ their Head, by his Spirit, and by faith, have fellowship with him in his graces, sufferings, death, resurrection, and glory: and, being united to one another in love, they have communion in each other’s gifts and graces, and are obliged to the performance of such duties, public and private, as do conduce to their mutual good, both in the inward and outward man.

WCF 26.2. Saints by profession are bound to maintain an holy fellowship and communion in the worship of God, and in performing such other spiritual services as tend to their mutual edification; as also in relieving each other in outward things, according to their several abilities and necessities. Which communion, as God offereth opportunity, is to be extended unto all those who, in every place, call upon the name of the Lord Jesus.

I think we should devote most of our attention to the distinction between historia and ordo salutis. In similar (perhaps more familiar) categories, we speak of redemption accomplished and applied. Dr. Richard B. Gaffin, Jr. has done the Church a tremendous service in his book Resurrection & Redemption.¹ In this work, Gaffin navigates the connection between Christ’s death and resurrection (historia salutis) and the application of that work to believers (ordo salutis). He provides insightful exegesis that demonstrates convincingly that Christ’s resurrection is simultaneously his justification (1 Tim 3:16), adoption (Rom 1:3-4), sanctification (Rom 6:1ff; Acts 20:32), and glorification (1 Cor 15:42ff; 2 Cor 3:17f; 4:4-6).

The fundamental category—the “ground” of it all—is Christ’s person and work, which is neither exclusively forensic nor renovative. From what I gather, it is possible we need further clarification regarding what we mean by forensic. It is a term referring to the procedures of law. It is often used to distinguish the Reformed from the Roman Catholic view of justification. The Reformed argue that justification is entirely extrinsic. It does not make one righteous in themselves, rather Christ’s righteousness is imputed, and justification is the acquittal of guilt on that account. Conversely, Roman Catholics argue that justification imparts grace. It makes the sinner righteous intrinsically.  I gather from my interactions with people on this subject that some prefer to invest the word forensic with the notion of monergistic. I do not find the two synonymous. For instance, regeneration is entirely monergistic, but in no way forensic; it is renovative—a work that changes the subject intrinsically.

I believe we can move forward in this discussion by further exploring what is entailed by Christ’s resurrection, particularly as his justification (1 Tim 3:16). I believe this may help to crystallize Dr. Horton’s concerns in his interview response. We ought to develop the sense in which we may speak of the open declaration of Christ’s righteousness in his resurrection. Specifically, we must detail the way this wonderful truth interfaces with preaching (cf. Rom 10:17). This may clarify how Christ’s justification in historia salutis relates to the believer’s justification in the ordo salutis.

For example, there is a real union with Christ in his death on the cross and subsequent resurrection. As Christ accomplished his work, he accomplishes it for his chosen people. But there is also a real transition from wrath to grace in the life of the sinner saved by grace. There is no point when a declaration can be made to a sinner that their sins have been forgiven until they receive Christ’s imputed righteousness by faith. Christians are not justified in the preaching of the Word. They are justified when God acquits them of their guilt on account of an alien righteousness. To keep with the forensic/legal metaphor, without that righteousness, received by faith, there is no case.

“The Gospel and Redemptive-Historical Hermeneutics” by Lane G. Tipton in Confident of Better Things, eds. Meuther and Olinger.

“For Our Sakes Also: Christ in the Old Testament in the New Testament” by Richard B. Gaffin, in The Hope Fulfilled.

And of course, many parts of Beale’s new volume, A New Testament Biblical Theology.

These should prove quite a nice tonic for all that nonsense that is out there wanting to advocate the idea that Christ is in the OT only retroactively in the mind of the community of faith.

Introduction

There is one big point I want to make tonight and then one big question I want to ask and then answer that flows out of the big point. Roman Catholicism underwent a drastic change with Vatican II. Moreover, mainline Protestantism looks strikingly similar to modern Roman Catholicism at points. So as we celebrate Reformation Day, we also need to remember that the Catholic Church today looks very different from what it did 500 years ago. But we should also recognize that Protestantism in general looks very different also. That’s the big point—there have been big changes on both sides of the Reformation.

And so we need to ask if there have been such significant changes between both sides of the historical divide, is the Reformation still significant? I hope to demonstrate to you tonight that yes, the Reformation is just as important today as it was when the Protestants sought to reform the church nearly 500 years ago.

I suppose I could stop here. That’s the entire point! But as I argue for these points and demonstrate to you the historical and doctrinal changes my hope is twofold: 1) that you become just a little bit more aware of modern Roman Catholicism and general Protestantism and 2) that your knowledge of the truths of Reformed theology would grow and your faith would be deepened. And so with that in mind, let’s roll back the timeline to 1517 and look at the basic issues the Reformers had with the Catholic Church.

Reformation Concerns

In 1517, Martin Luther had had enough. He had been considering the Roman Catholic teaching on indulgences and was prepared to the debate them in a scholarly setting. Luther wrote 95 theses on indulgences and promptly nailed them to the door at the Castle Church in Wittenberg.

This sounds like quite a dramatic episode. Could you imagine taking issue with something a friend of yours had done—so that you wrote out 95 points about what they had done and your beef with each of those things? You marched over to your friend’s house and nailed it to his door. Maybe a better present day comparison is posting to someone’s Facebook wall.

Nailing this kind of thing to the Castle Church door wasn’t very dramatic at the time. We like to think it was because it makes for a good story. It makes the history books and the movies about the Reformation exciting. But the truth is, it wasn’t that unusual or dramatic. This was simply a standard way for someone to issue an open challenge to a scholarly debate. Today, he could have simply started a blog and asked people to comment on his 95 posts.

So now that I’ve taken the air out of the tires on this so-called dramatic event, I need to do the same for another common revision of history. Luther did not intend to break from the Catholic Church to start a new Christian body. He initially sought to reform the Church from within. If you’d like to read more about this, I recommend reading The Reformation: How a Monk and a Mallet Changed the World or Martin Luther: A Guided Tour of His Life and Thought by Steve Nichols. You can also watch the 2003 movie Luther starring Joseph Fiennes. It has its Hollywood moments, but it’s generally a good retelling.

Whereas Luther’s Reformation was centered on the doctrine of justification by grace alone through faith alone, Calvin sought to Reform even more aspects of doctrine and church life. His more extensive Reformation concerns are neatly encapsulated in an exchange that he had with a Catholic Bishop named Jacopo Sadoleto.

Sadoleto’s and Calvin’s letters illustrate the deep divisions between each side and provide a brief testimony to the very heart of the Reformation. In many ways, Rome did not understand what the Reformation really was about nor did they understand how to deal with it. They actually resorted to some interesting tactics.

Sadoleto sent this letter to the Genevan people while their leaders, William Farel and Calvin, were absent. This is what some armies try to do to undermine the authority of their enemies. Sometimes they’ll drop tracts from the sky to inform the people of their viewpoint. Even our state department uses Twitter to tweet messages in Arabic and Farsi so people in foreign countries have another interpretation of world events and the actions of foreign leaders.

Calvin’s response surely had to have been a wakeup call that a return to Rome was no longer possible. Calvin responded strongly to Sadoleto, but not as strong as Luther. If any of you have ever read the beginning of Luther’s The Bondage of the Will, you’ll know how strongly he could write. Luther wrote to Erasmus, and gave him a backhanded complement, saying that he just couldn’t understand how someone so brilliant could have his theology. Luther said Erasmus was like taking a set of beautiful silver dishes and loading them up with dung.

Calvin didn’t write with that belligerence. And neither did Sadoleto. His letter was was quite irenic. In his response, Calvin centered on two main issues: 1) the reform of worship according to the Word and 2) justification by faith.

For Calvin, the main trajectory of the Reformation was the reform of worship away from the idolatrous practices that had come to infect the Catholic Church. Rome had strayed far and as a result Calvin stressed the need to not go beyond the Word in the practice of ceremonies and other superstitious practices. He advocated this regulative principle because of the controlling and authoritative role of the Word.

Sadoleto, on the other hand, saw the Church as infallible because the Spirit guides and directs her actions and declarations. But Calvin saw the Catholic Church as corrupt, and for him, the true church was subject only to the Word of God because the Spirit works through the Word. This connection demonstrates not only a stark contrast between Calvin’s and Sadoleto’s theology of worship, but points out the vast difference in ecclesiology and church authority.

The second principle issue in Calvin’s reply is justification by faith alone. Calvin dissects Sadoleto’s understanding of justification and shows how he has gone astray. Sadoleto’s justification includes good works wrought by believers. Calvin however, stresses the external righteousness of Christ alone as the sole ground of a believer’s justification. Again, the differences are massive.

Though Calvin points out the vast difference on the issue of justification, the overall concern of his response actually distinguishes his own view of reformation from Luther’s. Luther’s trajectory of reformation was simply bound up with justification by faith, and though Calvin is certainly concerned with this, Calvin is largely concerned with the Spirit’s reforming work though the Word applied particularly to worship.

The content of Sadoleto’s letter betray a lack of understanding about the situation on the part of Sadoleto and Rome. Calvin stressed that the Reformation is not about man’s desires, but about God’s work. Sadoleto’s letter and Calvin’s response together demonstrate the deep divide between Rome and the Reformers and frame the key issues of the tension in both a terse and lucid fashion.

This is what the Reformation was about. As it developed, the divide between the Catholic and Protestant Churches deepened and became more pronounced and the dialogue became more and more heated.

The Counter-Reformation

Catholics didn’t take all of this shuffling lying down. They responded with a counter-Reformation. Some of you may have heard of the Council of Trent. From 1545–1563, Catholic officials met to formulate a response to the Protestant doctrine of justification. If you think about the sweeping changes the Reformers were making and the strong statements being made from both the Protestant and Catholics sides, you’d expect the Catholic establishment to dig in their heals. And that’s exactly what happened during the Council of Trent.

The Council of Trent dealt with a number of issues including the Scriptures, original sin, and the sacraments. But in the sixth session, they dealt specifically with the doctrine of justification. You see there’s something interesting going on at the beginning of the Reformation.

When Luther and other Reformers present the doctrine of justification by grace alone through faith alone, they weren’t necessarily attacking the official doctrine of the Roman Catholic Church. Many Catholic’s didn’t know how to respond to these formulations mainly because they didn’t have an official position that dealt with the Reformer’s concerns.

So the Council of Trent was convened in some measure to provide an official response to these questions. And it says some very bold things in relation to the Reformed doctrine of justification. Here are a few of the more shocking statements.

CANON IV. If any one saith, that man’s free will moved and excited by God, by assenting to God exciting and calling, nowise co-operates towards disposing and preparing itself for obtaining the grace of Justification; that it cannot refuse its consent, if it would, but that, as something inanimate, it does nothing whatever and is merely passive; let him be anathema.

CANON VII. If any one saith, that all works done before Justification, in whatsoever way they be done, are truly sins, or merit the hatred of God; or that the more earnestly one strives to dispose himself for grace, the more grievously he sins: let him be anathema.

CANON IX. If any one saith, that by faith alone the impious is justified; in such wise as to mean, that nothing else is required to co-operate in order to the obtaining the grace of Justification, and that it is not in any way necessary, that he be prepared and disposed by the movement of his own will; let him be anathema.

So there you have it. Though Catholicism today is very broad and has many different opinions on things, those are some of the official Church statements on the doctrine of justification coming from the Council of Trent, the Catholic Church’s official response to the Reformation. They are very different from what we teach and subscribe to in our church, for instance in the Westminster Shorter Catechism Question 33, which asks:

What is justification? Justification is an act of God’s free grace, wherein he pardoneth all our sins, and accepteth us as righteous in his sight, only for the righteousness of Christ imputed to us, and received by faith alone.

But of course, as time marches along, things change.

The Sweeping Influence of Modernism

So grab your DVR remotes and let’s skip forward a few centuries. The Enlightenment happens and many people start to place a huge emphasis on human reason. This rediscovery of man’s natural ability led to a number of different theological positions. We certainly don’t have time to explore all of these developments in philosophy and theology, but I want to focus on one significant movement that has a lot to say about where we are today in terms of Catholicism and the Reformation.

In theology, modernism was a reworking of traditional theological doctrines according to 19th and early 20th century modes of thinking. For our concerns, modernism is part and parcel with liberalism. Whenever we talk about J. Gresham Machen and the founding of the Orthodox Presbyterian Church, we use the word “liberalism” quite a bit. Indeed Machen’s most famous book is titled Christianity & Liberalism.

You hear the word “liberalism” and “liberal” a lot even outside the walls of OPC churches. People often speak about ideas that are “liberal” when what they mean is that they stray from biblical teaching. In that sense, much of the Catholic Church, Protestantism, and parts of Evangelicalism are very liberal.

But “liberalism” and “modernism” as a movement in the early 20th century was a specific theological movement that had a number of troubling features. Conservative Presbyterians formulated five fundamentals to be used in addition to the Westminster Standards to try to fight off this advancing liberal theology.

1. The inspiration of the Bible and the inerrancy of Scripture as a result of this.
2. The virgin birth of Christ.
3. The belief that Christ’s death was the atonement for sin.
4. The bodily resurrection of Christ.
5. The historical reality of Christ’s miracles.

Each of these points is extremely important for right doctrine. To reject any one of them means disastrous effects for sound theology. Yet this modernism swayed many and had a great impact on both the Catholic and Protestant Churches.

In our Presbyterian history, the greatest example of the fight against modernism came to a head in 1929. That year, the board at Princeton Seminary decided to reorganize in such a way that the majority of people on the board were modernists. Those opposed to modernism, called fundamentalists, including their de facto leader J. Gresham Machen, broke off from the seminary to found Westminster Theological Seminary in Philadelphia.

The battle between fundamentalists and modernists would wage on within the mainline Presbyterian Church until Machen was put on trial and eventually defrocked for setting up a conservative alternative to the denomination’s liberal board of foreign missions. Having already established a conservative seminary, now it was finally time to establish a new denomination. And so on June 11, 1936, Machen and a group of several ministers, elders, and laymen formed the Orthodox Presbyterian Church.

I’m sure many of you know this story well. And perhaps others have heard it for the first time recently since we’re celebrating the 75th anniversary of the founding of our denomination. There are several books on the topic, which I recommend and which you can get from the OPC office or online at opc.org.

It’s easy to think about this history and forget that modernism’s influence was much broader than our Presbyterian circles. What happened to the Catholics as they encountered modernism? I’ll tell you that it was quite an ordeal. Several theologians started to write pieces and teach modernist theology.

Pope Pius X was not at all happy about this. He instituted an anti-modernist oath in 1910 and ordered that “all clergy, pastors, confessors, preachers, religious superiors, and professors in philosophical-theological seminaries.” By doing this, he institutionalized an anti-modernist position that continued until the middle of the 20th century when the requirement to take the oath was repealed.

But since Catholic theologians couldn’t be modernists, did that mean they were fundamentalists? Certainly not—remember, we want to think about modernism and liberalism as specific theological movements during this time period. Even though the Catholic Church was decidedly anti-modernist, they nevertheless moved in a direction much removed from Reformation theology.

Vatican II

We can consider these changes as tremors leading up to a massive earthquake in Catholic doctrine. The Catholic Church underwent significant changes especially in the 1960s. In 1962, Pope John XXIII brought many Catholic officials and theologians together to rethink Catholic doctrine on a number of issues. They underwent a project of aggiornamento, which is an Italian word meaning, “updating.” It’s been said that they wanted to open the windows of the Church to led fresh air in. And so under the leadership of John XXIII and later, Paul VI, the second Vatican Council met from 1962 to 1965 to work out this updating.

The Council produced several documents and dogmatic constitutions that presented new theological constructions that significantly changed the Catholic Church’s official views on a number of issues. To summarize many of these changes in just a few sentences, we can say that there was a general inclusive or ecumenical movement. After Vatican II, the Catholic Church recognized grace in other religions and even in the world in general. A road was now made for the Eastern Church, the Protestants, and even people of other faiths to be included under the massive Catholic umbrella.

The Catholic Church post-Vatican II is incredibly different than the Catholic Church encountered by Martin Luther and John Calvin. If the Catholic Church has changed this much since the Reformation, what does the Protestant side look like?

Protestants Today

Protestantism in general hasn’t fared much better. Though it’s significance in terms of pure numbers is rapidly decreasing, the mainline churches such as the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, the United Methodist Church, and the Presbyterian Church (USA) remain some of the largest Protestant bodies. The PCUSA in particular reacted against the modernism that plagued Princeton Seminary and many large Christian bodies in the early 20th century. But instead of following Machen in his fight against modernism, they moved in a decidedly Barthian direction.
In 1967, the PCUSA adopted an updated confession that many recognize as a capitulation to the theology of Karl Barth. In his view, the Incarnation is eternal and the Scriptures are not the Word of God in themselves. Rather, they become the Word of God as the Spirit adopts them in an event of revelation. You can spot a Barthian preacher because he will not say from the pulpit “Here now the reading of God’s Word,” but “Listen for the Word of God.”
Barth also taught aberrant views on the doctrine of election, which suggests a doctrine of universalism. And current Barthian scholars not only recognize this universalism in Barth, but even attempt to reconcile it with New Testament teaching.

Reformed apologist and Orthodox Presbyterian minister Cornelius Van Til became one of the principle critics of Barth. He actually wrote two books on the subject. The first, title The New Modernism attempted to show that Barthianism was really just another form of the same errors the liberals made.

His second book was even more explicit in its title. Christianity and Barthianism drew its title directly from Machen’s Christianity & Liberalism in which Machen argued that Liberalism wasn’t just another form of Christianity, but was a different religion altogether. This is where many mainline Protestants have gone. And even today Princeton Seminary remains one of the premier places for Barthian scholarship.

Have you ever watched the news and heard the news anchor refer to Evangelicals in general? They might say more and more evangelicals believe in alternative ways to salvation. Often, we see gross generalizations of Evangelicalism and Protestantism. And being Protestants ourselves, we can often get a bit upset because the general, generic view of Protestantism doesn’t often describe us very well as Orthodox Presbyterians.

Do we, as Reformed Christians consider ourselves under these headings? As part of my PhD studies, I took an external course at the Catholic University of America. My professor, would often bring up Protestant thought on various issues. In terms of his perception, the quintessential Protestant is Wolfhart Pannenberg, who teaches that God essentially becomes a Trinity—that he evolves and unfolds in history to become something he wasn’t at the start. For many others, the prime example of a Reformed theologian is Karl Barth. What does a member of the Orthodox Presbyterian Church have in common with these figures?

Church historian and OPC elder Darryl G. Hart wrote a book titled Deconstructing Evangelicalism: Conservative Protestantism in the Age of Billy Graham. In this book he argued that the term “Evangelical” is so broad and includes Christian denominations that have such different doctrine that the term itself is basically of no significance. Well, in many ways the same can be said for modern Roman Catholicism. It’s such a large and diverse body of thought that the general label “Catholic” doesn’t always mean that much.

This brings us to ask about the significance of the Reformation today. If the Catholic Church is so broad and Protestantism and Evangelicalism are equally broad—moreover, if the two bodies even overlap at points—where does that leave the Reformation?

Is the Reformation Still Significant?

In 2005, Baker Books published Mark Noll and Carolyn Nystrom’s book Is the Reformation Over? In that book, the authors ask a good question. Since these two large, general bodies are starting to overlap and merge into one another, is it the case that the Reformation is over? Let’s look at a few key events that have happened over the last couple of decades.

The first big one happened in 1994 when Chuck Colson and Richard John Neuhaus led an effort called Evangelicals and Catholics Together. Their goal was to join together to provide a common witness to the world in the third millennium. The document doesn’t mention any specific points of theology, but takes a sort of lowest common denominator approach of ecumenism.

Another big event was the Joint Declaration on Justification between the Roman Catholic Church and the Lutheran World Federation in 1999. They sought to come to terms on the doctrine that basically caused the Reformation. The declaration says:

The present Joint Declaration has this intention: namely, to show that on the basis of their dialogue the subscribing Lutheran churches and the Roman Catholic Church are now able to articulate a common understanding of our justification by God’s grace through faith in Christ. It does not cover all that either church teaches about justification; it does encompass a consensus on basic truths of the doctrine of justification and shows that the remaining differences in its explication are no longer the occasion for doctrinal condemnations.

This was made possible by the changes that came about through Vatican II. The declaration continues:

By appropriating insights of recent biblical studies and drawing on modern investigations of the history of theology and dogma, the post-Vatican II ecumenical dialogue has led to a notable convergence concerning justification, with the result that this Joint Declaration is able to formulate a consensus on basic truths concerning the doctrine of justification. In light of this consensus, the corresponding doctrinal condemnations of the sixteenth century do not apply to today’s partner.

And later, it attempted to smooth over the Reformation differences by saying that the condemnations of the Council of Trent don’t really apply to the teaching of the Lutherans in this declaration, and that the Lutheran condemnations of Catholic teaching don’t apply here either.

Surely, if Catholics and Martin Luther’s children could come to terms, then the Reformation must be over, right? Well in terms of large and broad categories such as Protestant or Evangelical, I think the Reformation probably is over. But in terms of the true Reformation concern, the Reformed mentality may be small, but it is alive and well.

Conclusion

I titled this lesson “Where are they now? The Reformers and the Catholics After 500 Years.” I think that the doctrines of the 16th century Catholics are still here, but not necessarily in an institutional sense. Vatican II changed things significantly, and the theology found in the Council of Trent has been eclipsed.
And where are the Reformers? Their teaching lives on in churches that seek to be faithful expositors of God’s Word. They live on in the lives of people who confess a truly sovereign God who comes to save those whom are dead in their sins and completely unable to save themselves.

I want to look more at the Reformation’s basic principles tomorrow morning. My hope is that we’ll see how these principles aren’t just stale ideas from 500 years ago. They’re not old notions that don’t apply today. Even though the Catholic Church has changed significantly from the Church it was during the Reformation and that the big Protestant bodies have changed as well, there is a need to fight for the basic truths of the Reformation just as much today as there ever was.

The first contribution, written by George Harinck, attempts to understand why Van Til came out so strongly against Barth. Van Til’s early criticisms have apparently become notorious among Barthian scholars (I’m just surprised non-conservatives know who Van Til is!).  To read the criticisms for yourself, see his The New Modernism and Christianity and Barthianism. For the Van Tilian, Harinck’s paper is well worth the read. I found Harinck’s comments about Van Til’s method to be the most interesting part of his entire paper.

There seemed to be a Van Tilian universe, and you were either in or out. Unlike neo-Calvinists such as Bavinck or G. C. Berkouwer (1903-96), you would never learn from Van Til’s publications how his opponents reason, or what they are aiming at.

Another trait, which is not per se typical of neo-Calvinism, is that Van Til is not all that interested in the intellectual problem that Barth poses, or in a discussion about such a problem. He is not interested in Barth’s motives or preoccupations. Rather, Van Til is interested in the battle itself, in overwhelming opponents with his arguments, and in showing them how the consequences of their ideas will undermine their own position.

Harinck has certainly picked up on salient features of Van Til’s modus operandi. Being either “in” or “out” is simply Van Til putting the antithesis to work. Bill Dennison, a Van Tilian teaching at Covenant College, once said to me, “We need to out-Van Til Van Til on Van Til.” What initially sounded like a manifestation of Dennison’s brain needle skipping the thought groove captured the idea that we need to always look for the inconsistencies and elements of unbelieving and unbiblical thought in Van Til as well as our own doctrine. No theologian knows perfectly, and therefore, there will be elements that need to be reformed or removed in all our theological systems.

In his criticisms, Van Til attempted to weed out those inconsistencies and to demonstrate the end of the road to which they lead. As such, Van Til wasn’t preoccupied with a theologian’s motivations or the milieu of his intellectual context. He simply wanted to demonstrate a system’s faithfulness to Scripture or lack thereof. I can’t help but think Van Til would take Harinck’s comments as a complement. Harinck continues:

Contrary to Schilder, Van Til did not develop a neo-Calvinist theology in reaction to Barth. In general, Van Til displayed an attitude more common among conservative theologians on the defense, in which one takes refuge in the illusion that the choice is either saving all or losing all. For Van Til, Barth simply had to be rejected.

Certainly, theologians can fall into an “illusion” of insisting competing views are always completely right or completely wrong. But, as Dennison insisted to me through his comment above, that was not an error Van Til committed. Indeed, Harinck may very well be guilty of taking refuge in the illusion that there must always be a via media. At the end of the day, Barth cannot be mixed with the theology of the Westminster Standards. And if Van Til remained committed to those standards—convinced they were faithful representations of the system of doctrine revealed in Scripture, Barthianism could have no place in this, his “universe.”

Synonymous with the motif of the ordeal by water is that of ordeal by combat with sea-monsters. Thus, the Red Sea water ordeal becomes in certain Old Testament passages a conflict of Yahweh against Leviathan (Isa. 51:9, 10; cf. Pss. 74:12-15; 89:10, 11 [9, 10]). We are thereby reminded that the Lord was present with his people in the passage through the sea, that he underwent their ordeal, and that their salvation depended on their identification with him. Then in the New Testament there is a typological application of this imagery to Jesus’ conflict with Satan in the course of his humiliation unto death.20 Hence, on our understanding of John’s baptism in general and of his baptism of Jesus in particular, Jesus’ experience in the Jordan would have been a symbolic anticipation of his ensuing victorious combat with the Satan-Dragon. We cannot, therefore, but view with new appreciation the liturgies of the ancient church when they speak of Jesus crushing the head of the dragon in his descent into the river for baptism.

It was with valid insight that early baptismal prayers recited the Lord’s supernatural way in the waters in events like creation, the deluge, and the Red Sea and Jordan crossings. Singularly apposite is the anchoring of God’s redemptive acts of subduing and dividing the ordeal waves in his creation acts of dividing and bounding the chaos waters in order that the dry land, inheritance of man, might appear. (It may be recalled here that in ancient mythology the slaying of the chaos dragon is the necessary preliminary to the establishment of the world order.) There is indeed an allegorical strain in these ancient prayers, but they did achieve a live sense of identification with the eschatological current of redemptive history, something our denatured modern baptismal liturgies would do well to recapture.

-Meredith Kline, By Oath Consigned, pp. 60-61

The recent blog exchanges concerning the relationship between justification and sanctification, along with the role of union with Christ in each, is part of a larger ongoing discussion of which some may be unaware. Certainly this is not true for those writing the posts, but the general reader may not have noticed what has developed into a debate particularly over the past five years. My purpose here, after providing a brief context for the current exchange, is simply to point interested readers to other resources that play a role in the larger discussion. Some are available online though most are books and journal articles.

Though there is a much longer history, the context for the current debate reaches back most immediately to the various critiques of the New Perspective on Paul and the Federal Vision. These movements emphasize union with Christ at the expense of the doctrine of justification as historically understood within Reformed theology. In particular, each takes issue with the idea of imputation in which Christ’s righteousness is attributed to me or legally counted as mine.

The response from Reformed circles defending the doctrine of justification has, generally speaking, followed along two lines. One response has continued to assert the central role of union with Christ as the overarching principle in the application of redemption and argues that imputation is an essential aspect of this union. The other response places greater emphasis on the priority of justification for the entire structure of salvation and makes this legal dimension the basis for all other benefits of redemption.

These different responses, one explaining justification as an aspect of union with Christ and the other emphasizing justification as the primary benefit of salvation and the basis for all others, brought to the fore different frameworks for how the whole of salvation is envisioned. Thus the initial defense of the doctrine of justification became the occasion for this broader debate about which has priority in Reformed soteriology: union with Christ or justification.

It’s important to note that both groups vigorously maintain that justification is God’s forensic, or legal, declaration of a believer’s righteous status dependent entirely on the imputed righteousness of Christ and received by faith alone. This is not at question. The debate is about the broader structure of salvation, the relationship between union with Christ and justification, along with the other benefits of redemption, and in particular sanctification.

Perhaps two quotations from advocates of each position would be helpful summaries. The first is from Richard B. Gaffin, Jr., emphasizing the priority of union with Christ:

The central soteriological reality is union with the exalted Christ by Spirit-created faith. This is the nub, the essence, of the way or order of salvation for Paul. . . no matter how close justification is to the heart of Paul’s gospel . . . there is an antecedent consideration, a reality, that is deeper, more fundamental, more decisive, more crucial: Christ and our union with him, the crucified and resurrected, the exalted, Christ.  Union with Christ by faith – that is the essence of Paul’s ordo salutis.[1]

Here, the focus is on the person of Christ and what he has accomplished for salvation through his death and resurrection, and consequent to this, our union with Christ is the inception of the application of what he has accomplished. Though justification is an essential aspect of redemption, union with Christ is most basic in the structure of salvation.

The following is from Michael S. Horton, emphasizing the priority of justification:

I am suggesting that we view all the items in the Pauline ordo as constituting one train, running on the same track, with justification as the engine that pulls adoption, new birth, sanctification, and glorification in tow. . . This means that we never leave the forensic domain even when we are discussing other topics in the ordo besides justification proper.  Although there is more to the new birth, sanctification, and glorification than the forensic, all of it is forensically charged.[2]

Here, justification is the dynamic for the entire structure of salvation, the source of power that animates every other aspect of redemption. The forensic declaration of justification is understood as the proper context for salvation as a whole.

Below, in chronological order, is a bibliography pointing to works that fit within this ongoing debate. A few things should be noted. First, I do not claim the list is exhaustive. Second, I will provide some annotation, primarily a brief description of where each fits within the broader discussion. Lastly, where the work is available online, a link will be provided.

2003

2004

2006

2007

2008

2009

2010

2011

For the passing of Jesus through the divine judgment in the water rite in the Jordan meant to John’s baptism what the passing of Yahweh through the curse of the knife rite of Genesis 15 meant to Abraham’s circumcision. In each case the divine action constituted an invitation to all recipients of these covenant signs of consecration to identify themselves by faith with the Lord himself in their passage through the ordeal. So they might assured of emerging from the overwhelming curse with a blessing. – Meredith G. Kline, By Oath Consigned, p. 61.

When Jesus was baptized by John, he entered into a proleptic ordeal which foreshadowed his eventual cutting off from the Father at the cross. This Paul calls a “circumcision” in Colossians 2:11-12. Though at the Jordan Christ traversed the waters of judgment in anticipatory fashion, he emerged justified as the Father proclaimed his sonship and bestowed on him the Spirit for his Messianic work. Likewise, Christ was vindicated, that is justified, in the Spirit when he was raised from the dead (1 Tim 3:16) having now passed through the eschatological judgment ordeal spoken of as a circumcision.

In reading Kline’s book, I was struck of how infrequently these themes come to mind when we consider baptism. The blessings of the covenant have come with a tremendous cost, and those who do not reach out to Christ in faith will pass through the eschatological judgment ordeal themselves. But those who trust in Christ, though bearing that dual sanction sign of blessing and curse in water baptism, have a federal head who underwent the judgment ordeal for them so that his people would escape its horror.

Oddly enough, I think we can learn quite a bit about our socio-theological context from Bruce Springsteen and Bon Jovi at this point. I’ve always thought the Boss and his New Jersey compatriots were country music for 80s rockers. Their “everyman” songs feature down-home lyrics of blue-collar men trying to catch a break. Those born in the USA have hungry hearts, live on prayers, and hijack rainbows. They’re regular guys who forge their own way in life. How can anyone argue with that? Americans are self-made go-getters, after all – making their own way in the world.

Yet it’s not until we conform our thoughts on the subject to Scripture that we see this “American mindset” has it wrong. Our assurance does not rest in our own abilities. Neither does it rest in a God that is fundamentally like us. Rather, our assurance is secure precisely because God is not like us. He’s a faithful covenant God – one who forgives and shows us mercy on account of the person and work of Christ. And so it’s only in Christ that we come to the Father assured of his love and assured of our everlasting place in his kingdom. Everybody, keep the faith.

This issue is particularly near and dear to my own heart. My grandparents were right off the boat from Ireland, and I have had the privilege of visiting “the ol’ country” several times. It is a beautiful land with beautiful people.

But the nationalism which is tied up with the one’s religious affiliation (Britain = Protestant; Ireland = Catholic) in Ireland is tragic. My nationality is Irish, my family is from the Republic. But my religious convictions are Protestant. Which makes me, I suppose, horribly confused – by Irish standards. Either that or, simply, a typical American.

The fact that the rise of Rory McIlroy’s golfing success has once again given rise to debates and skirmishes over religion and nationality in Ireland is another reason to revisit (and perhaps support) the Two Kingdom doctrine. The fight in Northern Ireland is really a national one. Its – in part – about freeing “The Teddy’s Head” from oppressive British rule. In sort, its a squabble between countries (that, I am sure, is an oversimplified statement of a complex situation. But for my purpose here, I hope it communicates what is essential). Yet, religion gets dragged into it. Rory is a Catholic, but could you imagine if he were converted to the Reformed (i.e., biblical!) faith by an act of God’s grace? He would be accused of being a traitor to the cause of the Irish Republic!

But what if we distinguished between being Irish and being a particular religion? What if we could be proudly Irish in our nationality, but humbly and thankfully Protestant in our theological convictions? Sounds reasonable, you say? OK. How about being a confessionally Reformed Christian in America and being a Democrat? Or having socialistic convictions? Or, being -gasp!- pro-Obama? I’m none of those things, but if I were, might I expect the equivalent of an ecclesiastical Molotov cocktail thrown at me?

But here are some other issues which perhaps Rory McIlroy can teach us. What about having American flags in our worship areas? Patriotic bulletins on holidays when people blow out of town right after the morning service, never to be seen or heard of for the rest of the day (or week!). How about singing God Bless America in church? Or recognizing American military during a General Assembly?

The list can go on. But I think that Northern Ireland can teach us at least one important lesson. Let’s not confuse nationalism or patriotism with religious convictions or affiliation. When we do that, both patriotism and the church lose.