Christian Realism regarding Christian Unity in Paris

Late last month, I was in Paris, France, to deliver a lecture for La Société d'Histoire et de Documentation Baptistes de France (SHDBF), co-sponsored by the Centre Mennonite de Paris. The subject provided by my hosts was "Baptists: Are We Calvinists or Non-Calvinists?" That lecture will be published in their journal, so I have refrained from disseminating it. Nonetheless, I would like to discuss one critical subject that arose in that paper and that came into sharper focus for me during my short sojourn in France: Christian unity.

I have been involved in a number of ecumenical conversations over the years, somewhat formally between world Baptists and Anglicans and between American evangelicals and Roman Catholics, as well as many informal conversations at Duke and Oxford universities and elsewhere. Ecumenical conversations have proven beneficial for my own theological development because they allow one to hear from other Christian traditions and to reflect upon one's own tradition, from within and from without. When engaged from a realistic viewpoint, ecumenical conversations clarify both convergences and divergences between the various Christian traditions, helping to shed light on the glories and inadequacies of each.

And that viewpoint--let us call it 'Christian realism'--provides for difficult though beneficial conversations. On the one hand, there is the hope that Christian divisions may be overcome; on the other hand, there is the constant reminder that significant differences remain. The divisions between the various Christian traditions persist due to apparently irreconcilable historical, theological and ecclesiological foundations. The doctrine of papal primacy is not a mere inconvenience keeping Christians from learning to worship together--it is a sublime Spirit-given truth to the one and a gross human imposition to the other. The doctrine of infant baptism is not a secondary or tertiary roadblock on the highway to Zion--it is a necessary theological building block to the one and a tyrannical violation of human conscience to the other. The doctrine of biblical inerrancy is not a mere historical footnote--it is a fundamental aspect of biblical inspiration to the one and a puzzling theological claim to the other. No matter what our personal or ecclesial desires, the theological facts on the ground remain: although we may each claim the name of Christ, Christians from the various traditions possess fundamental reasons to retain our divisions.

And yet, because this 'Christian realism' is 'Christian', it is replete with the expectation that these divisions will be overcome by and in Jesus Christ, the one Lord that Christians commonly proclaim. The lack of unity among Christians is not a cause for celebration but for mourning. This reality was brought home to me palpably during this lecture delivered in a Baptist church building at 123 Avenue du Maine in the Fourteenth Arrondissement of Paris. In the audience that evening were Baptist, Mennonite and Reformed Christians, laity and clergy, from across Europe, Africa and the Americas. I had historically and systematically laid open both the convergences and divergences between all three Christian groups, and the divergences seem to be so intractable. Towards the end of my lecture, while reminding us of the divergences, I fell back upon Scripture for hope:

The unresolved nature of this dispute--over what is and what is not 'necessary', 'essential' or 'fundamental'--lies at the root of the continuing division between the churches of the Reformed and the churches of the baptizing tradition. Until that is resolved, it is doubtful there will be a reunion. Ultimately, however, there must be reunion, for Christ is our Lord and He has prayed for our unity (John 17). Surely, there will be no divisions at the great supper of the Lamb as the universal church gathers to worship Him who died for the atonement of our sins, who arose from the dead for the redemption of our bodies, and who will one day return for our glorification (Rev 19).

Christian realism regarding Christian unity. The 'reality' is that the divisions between Christians cannot be quickly papered over or glibly bypassed with some temporary emotional sentiment accompanying a facile theological equation. The divisions between the Roman Catholics, the Reformed, and the baptizing churches are deep and, more importantly, they are fundamental. This is the reality we must face. However, our realism is also 'Christian'. And Christ calls His disciples to display their unity in love. He promised such unity would lead the world to see Him in us (John 13:34-35). The Christian hope is that our divisions will be overcome, and they will be at the least eschatologically, but we must do whatever we possibly can to overcome them now, with integrity, on the basis of His will and for the sake of evangelism.

These ideas continued ringing through my head and heart the next day as I visited the Faculté Libre de Théologie Évangélique in Vaux-sur-Seine, which serves theological students in the evangelical free church traditions from both France and Switzerland. Professor Alain Nisus, their primary systematic theologian, invited me to deliver lectures and take questions on free church ecclesiology, and it was a pleasure to get to know this rising theologian, from whom I hope we will hear more. I also enjoyed my conversations with Professor Neal Blough, whose work on Pilgram Marpeck I have long greatly admired. As I sat through worship and a meal with Professors Nisus and Blough, and their academic dean, Professor Jacques Buchhold, I was reminded of those fundamental truths that hold the evangelical free churches together. (The Paris seminary, whose leading scholar is the highly respected Calvinist theologian, Henri Blocher, has an evangelical confession. You may consider her history here and her confession here.) And yet, even among the free churches, we must admit that we maintain ecclesiastical divisions. I pray these, too, will be overcome, for the sake of our witness to the gospel.

Karl Barth Demonstrates the Insufficiency of Reformed Theological Prolegomena

In The Formation of Christian Doctrine, I discussed four major options for Christian foundations in theological method. These were the (1) Roman Catholic, (2) Liberal Evangelical, (3) Reformed Evangelical, and (4) Free Church models. At one point, I criticized Gerhard Ebeling for ignoring the Free Church model in his understanding of Christian history, wherein he offered only a threefold paradigm, subsuming the Free Church understanding under the "Enthusiastic" as opposed to the Roman Catholic and Reformed models. Here, I would like to extend the critique of insufficient paradigms toward that premier Reformed theologian Karl Barth.

In his Church Dogmatics, I/1, under his discussion of "The Task of Prolegomena to Dogmatics," Barth, similarly to Ebeling, presents only three possible models for Prolegomena: (1) Roman Catholicism, (2) Protestant Modernism, and (3) Protestant Evangelical. These three models correlate to the first three models that I set out in chapter 2 of my book. The fourth model, that of the Free Church, is, however, woefully underestimated by Barth.

Barth, incredibly, subsumes the Free Church understanding within Protestant Modernism. Indeed, without any historical justification for such a dependence, he states that the assumption of Friedrich Schleiermacher, that faith is prior to dogmatic formation, has its "origin in English congregationalism" (p. 38). He then cites articles 20, 23, and 24 of the Platform of the Savoy Declaration as proof, adding further, "They and they alone could authorise Schleiermacher to commence his basic work of introduction with statements borrowed from ethics. And of themselves they are sufficient to characterise these borrowed statements as dogmatics, i.e., dogmatically heretical statements" (ibid.)

So, there you have it, according to Barth, the Free Church theological method is really the basis for Evangelical Liberalism, and the result is "dogmatically heretical statements." Unfortunately, Barth does not justify these statements beyond his cryptic reference to the Savoy Declaration. Later, in the Church Dogmatics and in numerous other writings, Barth will pursue, repeatedly and without satisfactory finality, the problem of relating ethics with dogmatics, a subject treated exhaustively in many of the works of my old professor, John Webster, now at Aberdeen University. Barth never could make the transition from dogmatics to ethics, try as he might, because he was constantly worried that human agency just might impinge upon divine grace.

As I argued during a lecture delivered at Aberdeen a few years ago, Barth would have benefited by a close reading of the work of Pilgram Marpeck. Marpeck, in my opinion, was able to weave his way clearly through the problem of grace and discipleship by allowing the latter an integral function within his theological foundation. In doing so, Marpeck demonstrated a way past the knotty problem that has held Reformed dogmatics in an irresolvable philosophical grip, a grip demonstrated in Barth's own philosophical ruminations regarding the doctrine of election. (Yes, even Barth, in spite of his Christological reading of Romans 9, could not escape the Stoical bases of Reformed thought.)

What I find of especial interest in Barth's flippant dismissal of the Free Church tradition is that he utilized the Savoy Declaration, in its discussions of the Gospel and Grace (art. 20), Oaths and Vows (art. 23), and the Civil Magistrate (art. 24). The Congregationalists/Independents who adopted the Savoy Declaration were, in many ways, just as enamored as Barth with Reformed speculations regarding divine election. However, in article 20, an article that they added to the Westminster Confession, they did leave some room for human response and personal transformation: "for the producing in them a new spiritual life."

And in articles 23 and 24, this opening is explored again. In discussing the taking of an oath, the human person is protected from external coercion with this statement: "neither may any man bind himself by oath to any thing, but what is good and just, and what he believeth so to be, and what he is able and resolved to perform." Again, though in an apparently post-conversion context, the idea of a fully involved personal response by a human being is advocated.

Barth's reference to Article 24, on the Civil Magistrate, is highly disturbing, for in the Westminster Confession, the government is called upon in no uncertain terms to enforce the godly faith. The Savoy Declaration, however, respectful of human responsibility, qualifies the role of the government, bringing the liberty of individual consciences into direct conversation with government authority, protecting the former, in a limited sense, from impingement by the latter.

Let me wrap up this little exercise by noting the problems here with Reformed theological methodology, as exemplified in Karl Barth. By divorcing discipleship from doctrine, Reformed theology has created an irresolvable dilemma that prefers speculation about election to dependence upon scriptural affirmations. By citing his difficulty with the Savoy Declaration, Barth has demonstrated that Reformed theology is uncomfortable with personal responsibility and personal transformation, which are integral to any biblical doctrine of faith. Finally, again, by citing the Savoy Declaration, Barth has demonstrated that Reformed theology is, in its genesis, grossly dependent upon the coercion of consciences through, though here he is later equivocal, infant baptism.

B.B. Warfield, "The Idea of Systematic Theology"

In spite of a genuine appreciation for his important contributions to pneumatology and bibliology, one ought not care for Benjamin Breckenridge Warfield's definition of systematic theology as a discipline shaped by human philosophy, nor may one agree with his rejection of theology as a Christocentric enterprise. Like many theologians and preachers today, Warfield was never able to comprehend fully the diversions from biblical theology that often result from Reformed commitments. However, one must laud the final paragraph of his essay, "The Idea of Systematic Theology." While downplaying such ideas earlier, Warfield in the end indicates how theology must inculcate a living faith through biblical preaching in order to be truly orthodox, thus demonstrating why the free churches have some limited communion with the evangelicals. It is repeated here in its full Victorian structure:

"If such be the value and use of doctrine, the systematic theologian is preeminently a preacher of the gospel; and the end of his work is obviously not merely the logical arrangement of the truths which come under his hand, but the moving of men, through their power, to love God with all their hearts and their neighbors as themselves; to choose their portion with the Saviour of their souls; to find and hold Him precious; and to recognize and yield to the sweet influences of the Holy Spirit whom He has sent. With such truth as this he will not dare to deal in a cold and merely scientific spirit, but will justly and necessarily permit its preciousness and its practical destination to determine the spirit in which he handles it, and to awaken the reverential love with which alone he should investigate its reciprocal relations. For this he needs to be suffused at all times with a sense of the unspeakable worth of the revelation which lies before him as the source of his material, and with the personal bearings of its separate truths on his own heart and life; he needs to have had and to be having a full, rich, and deep religious experience of the great doctrines with which he deals; he needs to be living close to his God, to be resting always on the bosom of his Redeemer, to be filled at all times with the manifest influences of the Holy Spirit. The student of systematic theology needs a very sensitive religious nature, a most thoroughly consecrated heart, and an outpouring of the Holy Ghost upon him, such as will fill him with that spiritual discernment, without which all native intellect is in vain. He needs to be not merely a student, not merely a thinker, not merely a systematizer, not merely a teacher--he needs to be like the beloved disciple himself in the highest, truest, and holiest sense, a divine."