It’s this Sunday. < sarcasm> Finally. </ sarcasm>

More than 80 pastors to preach sermons involving biblical perspectives on electoral candidates or officeholders despite IRS rule muzzling speech in the pulpit.

To the relative neglect of heeding the gospel call by the Host of heaven on his terms, there are all sorts of felt needs to be met on man’s terms. They range from the trivial and petty to the evolved and sophisticated.  One of the dangers for Presbyterians who tend to easily recognize the former in popular expressions of religion is to miss it when it comes to questions of statecraft, holding out that holy writ really does have something directly to say about how we order public life.  Yes, Joel Osteen is a problem.  But how often are other names named or otherwise identified? When do we raise our hands when certain political ideologies, if yet popularized and closer to trivial than sophisticated, stand to bask in the soft glow of heavenly sanction? At least one Presbyterian is appropriately skeptical:

Publication of The American Patriot’s Bible ought to provoke a much needed debate in the United States about the church’s right relationship to civil society. This Bible may become a landmark in that debate, clarifying the issues as never before, forcing people to recognize the degree to which Americanism has penetrated Christianity. An Augustinian perspective may help frame that conversation. In Book XIX of The City of God, the Bishop of Hippo explained in which areas there can be peace and in which there must be conflict between the earthly and the heavenly cities. Christian and non-Christian have a common interest in earthly peace, good order, and the “necessaries of life.” But in matters of worship, Augustine wrote, the Christian was forced to “dissent” from the earthly city. The limits of the common life had been reached. The Christian was forced “to become obnoxious to those who think differently, and to stand the brunt of their anger and hatred and persecutions…” Praising piety and faith in general alongside remnants of the historic Christian faith, The American Patriot’s Bible combines the things of God and the things of Caesar at the very point where they most vigilantly need to be kept apart. When the City of Man sets up Americanism as its faith, the Christian is forced to dissent.

Read the whole review here.

I read the news today, oh boy.

I must admit, in my more ungodly moments I have coveted a greater intellect, and I truly believe that an otherwise increased acumen would have been a marvelous idea in the drawing boards of my creation. If potters may reserve absolute rights in their designing then clay has a way of feeling rather desperate from time to time. I’m tempted to say that is especially true these days in contrast to sunnier ones. But not only would that imply a sort of chicken-little take on things in general, it would also fly in the face of the fact that even in brighter times my ungodliness covets what is not my own.

Nevertheless, the world keeps coldly spinning with little regard to how I may or may not apprehend it. I look for wisdom wherever I may find it.

In a recent article entitled Priests in Voting Booths Lutheran Uwe Siemon Netto suggests the sort of posture believers might contemplate. But as I read it I wonder, Where is the guy who said wisdom is fleeting when you need him? He seemed on to something.

The first hint for me that all is not quite kosher is how Netto draws up seating arrangements for things ideological and theological:

Church-owned publications cannot endorse political candidates. Of course, we have a clear position on issues of theological concern, such as the sanctity of life and of marriage as the union between one man and one woman. But the Lutheran Witness would be wrong to tell Washington how to fight wars in the Middle East, end the immigration quagmire, or salvage Social Security. Such problems cannot be resolved by faith but only by reason, a gift from God to help us function in this world.

How are “sanctity of life and marriage” concerns more theological than war and economics? This sort of parsing is rather ubiquitous anymore.

But it seems to me there are three options: Either they are all theological, or they are split into ideological or theological categories, or they are all ideological and subject to natural law. The problem with the first option is that we get into the sort of transformational messes—both sacred and secular—which characterize our age. The problem with the second option, which is Netto’s, is that one suspects that to claim some issues as theological is to actually reserve high-octane fire power against those with whom one disagrees for fear of losing the day over something with which one may feel particularly strong. The first two options always seem to forget that very little can be accomplished in the real world when the process involves fellow participants who don’t share any certain theological devotions. The third option is the one the first two fear. There are various reasons for this, not the least of which is that impiety must be lurking. But how is it impious to suggest that Christ is Lord over all things created, formally acknowledged or not? In point of fact, it has always seemed to me that to not let natural law play out appropriately, which is to say staking anything grounded in creation from marriage to economics in the redemption sphere, is to show less faith, not more.

Throughout the balance of the article Netto goes on to suggest that,

Christian voters will follow nothing less than a divine calling to be a special kind of priest…the Lutheran church has to remind Christian voters of this fact: They are the divinely appointed sovereigns in a democracy and as such compelled to exercise their office by virtue of good sense…A Christian failing to vote resembles the useless servant who kept the pound entrusted to him laid away in a napkin…If Christian voters are priests in the left-hand kingdom, so are Christians as rulers…let’s pray that American voters do see themselves as priests in the world and elect leaders….

For those historically so well versed in the dexterity of right and left hands it can be not a little disheartening when so much is given with one only to be taken away with the other. Suffer a brief comparison. As I have contemplated the difference between evangelicals and Reformed it has always seemed to me that where the former lack it altogether the latter begin with a healthy doctrine of creation. Where many Reformed go south rather quickly, however, is in various forms of transformationalism. The right hand gives the doctrine of creation, but the left one takes it away by trying to redeem it somehow, as if it were sub-material in the first place.

In a similar way, it seems some Lutherans, again in contrast to evangelicals, begin with a robust doctrine of the two kingdoms but take the proverbial left turn at Albuquerque the way Reformed transformationalists do with creation. I think it should be cause for hesitation when voting is cast as an ordained task from on high instead of simply understood as a necessary tool in the service of a liberal democracy. In the latter view, this ratchets down the stakes of voting while at the same time allowing it to retain its admittedly God-ordained dignity. Indeed, for those even so inclined, neglecting one’s duty as a citizen of a liberal democracy can simply be understood as bad citizenry instead of a screechy impiety.

Netto rightly takes to task those on the right or left for baptizing certain ideological agendas, but he flirts rather heavily with the very same as he over-realizes the act of voting itself. One has to wonder—when a liberal democracy is seen as some sort of above-and-beyond gift of God and voters are framed as “priests of God” instead of citizens in a particular slice of the larger kingdom of man under Christ’s relentless Lordship—what becomes of those believers in other kingdom-outposts? Are they second-class priests? Moreover, it is ironic how ostensibly conservative religious views can look a lot like secular Utopian ones. The common denominator seems to be the assumption that socio-political action can do more than that for which it was ordained. Instead of getting us from today to tomorrow in relatively one piece the idea seems to be that an ultimate righteousness can indeed be brokered.

I tend to see this sort of sentiment hurrahed more and more in Reformed circles. And not just by transformationalists who might be happy to see that a Lutheran has wandered off the reservation. The tie that binds can be an American patriotism of affirmation not as in check as could be. But if we Reformed are right about criticizing evangelicals and their fishy practice of doling out of voters’ guides, it is not clear how it follows that certain Lutherans are given a pass for these “voter-priests” be-attitudes, a working lexicon with “left and right hand kingdoms” and a laudable sub-text for worldly involvement notwithstanding. If the problem with voters’ guides isn’t the fact that a secular burden is curiously expanded to a sacred duty then what’s the fuss? After all, when I was an evangelical those voters’ guides were pretty neutral and innocuously informing. (The genius seemed to be this: mix one part telling everyone directly or indirectly how to think politically in plenty of other venues; one part voting-as-sacred-duty; one part bloodless pamphlets, and voilà, an instant yet potent voting bloc and nobody loses their tax-exempt status. It’s the sort of misguided brilliance that gave us faith-based initiatives.)

Since it seems so brimming with nobility, I hate to break it to Netto, but voting is just voting. Maybe such mediocrity is enough to get me defrocked as a voter-priest. But since this kind of thing only seems to fuel the fires of unrealistic expectation followed by disillusionment and the sort of civil abstinence Netto fears, wouldn’t it be wiser to take better advantage of the priesthood of all believers and administer sanity?

“Tradition. The prayer breakfast got started in mid-1930s Seattle, where traveling preacher Abraham Vereide held morning meetings for politicians and businessmen to pray about—and try to combat—poverty and the spread of communism. He decided on breakfast due to the Christian tradition of morning prayers and, it’s said, as a nod to John 21—wherein Jesus appears to his disciples in the early morning by the Sea of Tiberias and helps them catch fish. Breakfast was also practical, since 7 or 7:30 a.m. meetings didn’t interfere with the workday or with family obligations in the evening.”

That seems to go well with the notion that true religion is useful. After all, like my mother always said, breakfast is brain food.  She was a school-teacher. She was supposed to say that.

But does confessional Protestantism really think that true religion is good for everything from wiping out poverty to Pinko’s? It seems to me that things like National Prayer Breakfasts are good for wiping out Protestant ecclesiology specifically and doing serious damage to true religion generally.

PBS agrees to ban new religious TV shows.

Until now, PBS stations have been required to present programming that is noncommercial, nonpartisan and nonsectarian. But the definition of “nonsectarian” programming was always loosely interpreted, and the rule had never been strictly enforced.

HT: WHI

There are religious groups that own PBS stations. KBYU is owned by Brigham Young University which is a Mormon school. The Roman Catholic Church owns a PBS station in Texas. These stations regularly broadcast religious services. Can a station use taxpayer money and then air religious services?

But as the WHI asks, what do they define as “Religious Programming.” What about Yoga? Deepak?

A recent broadcast of the White Horse Inn took up the subject that warms the heart of any two-kingdom believer: religion and politics. While the gateway drug out of broad evangelicalism to Reformed theology for most seems to be matters of soteriology, mine was the doctrine of the two kingdoms. Granted, I was pleased to find that about two feet into Reformed theology I ran into that which helped solve my own soteriological conundrums (and then ecclesiology and eschatology and worship); it was two kingdoms that made sure the smoldering wick did not snuff out entirely as I stood at the trailheads of Rome. And so, when I found out this was the topic at hand I felt I had every right to bow out of my Sunday night bed-time duties and tune in. I know where they dug up Darryl. But how did they find a Dem strategist and former Republican Attorney General that conversant in the two kingdoms? I need the WHI producers to help me comb beaches for gold, and there are some haystacks of mine that need needling.

The first and second broadcasts were all good stuff to be sure. In the second Horton finally got around to trying to make things more concrete and applicable by addressing that sacred cow in the living room: abortion. How does any of this come to bear on this issue? Is there anything the church has to say? If so, what and how? If anyone thinks this issue isn’t the queen mother-sow that puts two-kingdom theology to the test it might be worth noting that it was almost as if Horton’s other example, torture, was never uttered, so to speak.

The responses were varied and interesting and involved a lot of language about “caution and slippery slopes,” etc. But part of Hart’s response was to point out the crucial matter of jurisdiction. He made reference to his own OPC’s efforts in issuing statements on abortion. The church may and should really only make certain stipulations for those over whom she is ordained. The upshot here is that if a member of the church either has or performs such a procedure the idea would be that she or he could be subject to discipline, which got me thinking in another direction not necessarily intended by the discussion but one I have wondered about before.

The point of jurisdiction is absolutely crucial to any two-kingdom theology and is thus well taken. But while there is place for the matter of jurisdiction, I still have my own set of hesitations as to the wisdom of such official statements as those against abortion. Is what is going on in these formulations really about jurisdiction or a clever way to join in the fray of cultural influence?

Bear with me. I have a prescription to medication for eczema. Part of the instructions includes exhortations not to put the stuff into my eyes. Now, I can only presume that such an odd instruction has found its way to the printed litany of warnings only because enough people out there have mistakenly put this stuff into their eyes for whatever reasons. There are no warnings to not stuff into my ears, though it is entirely possible I might since I also have hay fever which causes itching in my ears and throat, which may lead dimmer bulbs to try and relieve their irritation with it. I reveal this sort of unsavory information only to make a point. It would seem to me that any organization, sacred or secular, puts forth specific rules about conduct only insofar as it perceives that conduct to really be more probable than possible. Otherwise, there is no end to exhortations. Are there really enough members of the OPC who are contemplating either performing or having an abortion to warrant the resources it takes to issue such statements? Given what I know generally about persons of both religious conviction and access to means and resources, I bet I would be hard-pressed to find a lot of members of the OPC honestly wrestling with these behaviors.

Generally speaking, much of the anti-abortion culture relies on a good dose of caricature as to what precipitates abortion. For lack of a better term, I call it the “sorority syndrome,” because it seems to lean on the idea that most abortions are the result of a sort of morning-after whim employed to cover one’s tracks; the people having abortions are not so much those without resources and means who find themselves in a complex situation as it is the hung over sorority girl who needs to fix her mistake tooth sweet. This is convenient reasoning in order to stigmatize the counter arguments. After all, if it can be established that what precipitates most abortions is something that offends the decency of most people regardless of their particular politics instead of a more difficult and involved set of circumstances the battle is much easier. To be fair, those with femme-politics tend to do this same thing, characterizing those with fetus-politics as liable in the “oppression of women,” something that equally offends the decency of most people. But casting the debate as between those who want to kill babies/those who want to save babies or those who want to liberate women/those who want to oppress women really only serves as moralist tactics to easily locate the good guys and bad guys.

For better or worse, I would tend to believe that most situations in which termination is contemplated are the result of sexual misconduct, like fornication and adultery. And so another aspect to this issue I rarely find conservative religionists considering is that the Bible actually has a lot more to say about sexual ethics than it does about particular legislation concerning reproductive non/rights, Psalm 139 notwithstanding. Moreover, I realize the politico-sensationalism which attends this issue is much more exciting to entertain for everyone. But in the real world most inhabit a person who finds herself in the sort of situation that includes this possibility most likely isn’t proudly roaring about her individual rights but has come to the predictable end of a series of bad decisions and not a little dysfunction. And so, if the argument has something to do with discipline, which itself has a lot more to do with restoration, statements like these project about zero spiritual care and convey more a tone of moral vitriol and punishment. A concern for our own might actually result more in a silence in the midst of brouhaha than in joining the cacophony of pundits. Or do we seriously imagine that one of our own who indeed messed up would actually seek the comfort and balm of a church that carries on more like a pundit than a pastor?

Also, intermingling with more proper religious concerns, the statements against abortion co-exist with statements about women in combat and homosexuals in the military. Again, is there a plethora of homosexuals in the OPC who are demanding they be allowed to serve in the armed forces which needs to be beat back? Something tells me that there probably even less homosexuals railing for military rights in the OPC than there are religious women of means who have committed either fornication or adultery scattering left and right to obtain abortions. And if the reasoning for the abortion statement is to convey that discipline will result for those who participate, are we seriously to understand that any OPC females who fly fighter jets over Iraq will face the same sanction?

Well, at the risk of having to find a corner in the Outhouse, and while it would be nice to believe, it seems pretty plain to me that what is really going on with these sorts of statements is something more than exercising the implications of a proper jurisdiction. If we were really so concerned about the possibility that someone might do something morally questionable yet legal one has to wonder where all the statements against lending bad mortgages are. While they may be forthcoming, I suspect we won’t finally see any.

To be blunt, ecclesiastical statements against abortion seem more a way to circumvent the spirituality of the church than wisely govern one’s own. In every doctrine there is both a letter and spirit. Pastors may very well not be reading prescribed sermons from Operation Rescue or the Family Research Council, thereby innocent of not violating the letter of the law. But since the wisdom of such statements seems quite wanting, I can only conclude that these are creative ways to engage in the so-called culture wars without actually doing it. Lest it appears I am picking on the OPC I have long suspected that my own CRC is held fairly captive by the siren song of cultural progressivism. And what I have learned as I inhabit the CRC and watch encyclicals issued forth by the OPC is that across the board even Reformed and Presbyterian enclaves would rather be found standing up for one conception or another of justice than holding out the gospel, all the while murmuring something about salt and light. Like sin itself, it seems the desire to be culturally influential is an equal opportunity affliction.

Sometimes I get accused of not caring enough about “life issues,” which I am fairly confident is code for not getting in line with the pro-life movement. I guess I don’t show enough patriotism of affirmation and too much dissent when it comes to this strange ideological litmus test of theological orthodoxy. I must admit, I never thought I’d be so interested in the topic. But when even confessional Protestants who are more conversant with Operation Rescue than they are with the Spirituality of the Church, coveting the sort of cultural clout yesteryear’s abolitionism does presently, I can’t help but be interested—just not that way most seem to be. 

I understand why Romanists pump-fist the air when they hear things like this. What is confusing is why it is deemed even amongst Reformed to be a good thing that Nancy Pelosi is being reigned in by her church.

The argument made by Rome and golf clapped by some conservative Calvinists seems to be that she is displaying an ignorance of and inconsistency with her church’s teaching regarding abortion. She thus deserves formal and public rebuke; some even suggest ecclesial discipline which seems to draw hurrahs from plenty of Reformed and Presbyterians alike. I am not sure when Reformed began applauding Romanist ecclesiology. If the argument is that she is guilty of dogmatic ignorance and inconsistency, then where are other public rebukes for these same infractions on the parts of other public church members? There surely have to be others somewhere in history that are also guilty of getting their church’s teachings wrong. Maybe it is just a blind spot of mine, but I really can’t recall something akin to an Archbishop utilizing public news media to point out where a public figure got her facts publicly wrong. I have no vested interest in seeing a Romanist behave more two-kingdomly. Speaking of consistency, that would be about as inconsistent as challenging a priest on papal authority or a Baptist for withholding baptism from his child. But what is with those who otherwise consider themselves “Old School Presbyterians” joining this fray?

If even the Reformed who are quick to set aside their ecclesiology and ostensible two-kingdom theology in order to applaud Madame Speaker’s discipline then where are the public rebukes for those Protestant legislators who have either theonomic or transformational leanings? If confessional Reformed like what Rome is doing to one of her own then where are all the two-kingdomites going out of their way to make it clear in the mainstream that something like National 10 Commandments Day is an affront? Little Geneva is rotten with public displays of relevancy that are misrepresentations of two-kingdom doctrine.

I think the answer is really pretty simple. It has more to do with politics than religion. I think once again this has a lot more to do with what some think and others legislate than someone getting their church history a bit skewed, however public it may be. Like those in vitro who oddly seem to enjoy from otherwise orthodox Calvinists the notion that the implications of being fully human don’t really apply to them specifically, the Spirituality of the Church doesn’t seem to apply to this issue in general. This seems to bear witness once again the extent to which a moralized politics and a politicized religion obscure what the best of a Reformed witness has to offer in its ability to clarify the nature of and the relationship between the two kingdoms. It seems like one thing for a moralized politics to serve the proverbial “gridlock” in contemporary politics—I get that as it seems perfectly in keeping with the principles of the world. Moreover, I don’t necessarily begrudge politics-as-usual; certainly it could be argued that those of us in vitro would seem to have more of a stake in one side of the high-pitched politics than more sophomoric efforts to eradicate the social conditions that prompt certain procedures in the first place. But it seems quite another when one issue is enough to cause even Reformed believers to hit the paused button on their own ecclesiology, undo the Spirituality of the Church and join Romanists in what is effectively bullying. But if an abolitionist-like clout is what so many are after (see John Piper’s When Abortion is Racism), a more careful peering into Old School Presbyterian history reveals that true piety didn’t imply one moralized politics another over. If something like Evangelicals and Catholics Together is misguided from a confessionally Reformed viewpoint, it seems equally unclear as to why any amongst us should sympathize with someone like Archbishop Chaput.

I recently heard a re-run of a Bill Maher interview on NPR over his film “Religulous.” (Side-note: the film was part of the Michael Moore Summer Film Festival in my hometown of Traverse City, MI. TC is where Moore’s offices are now permanently located. He jets between TC and NYC. I consider myself one of the most generous people I know, what with letting others live the life I was supposed to have.)
 
In the film he faults former would-be GOP Veep Sarah Palin for practicing witchcraft. According to him, going through a ceremony in order to hedge one in from witches is a pretty good definition of witchcraft. I agree. The problem, though, was that Maher was calling foul on how this relates to one’s fitness to hold public office. Ironically, Maher shows that he is every bit as Constantinian as Al Mohler or Richard Land who warned us against electing poor Mitt Romney to office. Maher, Mohler and Land all seem to agree that one’s theological devotions have something to do with one’s ideological efforts.
 
Anyway, it all got me to thinking about more sane dispositions when it comes to politics and religion. Quoth he:

“Liturgical Protestantism offers a way around this impasse. A different way of putting it is to say that liturgical Protestantism represents a way for Protestant believers to support the wall between church and state. By looking for religious significance not in this world but in the world to come, liturgical Protestantism lowers the stakes for public life while still affirming politics’ divinely ordained purpose. The public square loses some of its importance but retains its dignity. It is neither ultimately good nor inherently evil; politics becomes merely a divinely appointed means for restraining evil while the church as an institution goes about its holy calling.”

What do Gene Robinson and Charles Colson have in common?

V. Gene Robinson is the rather high profile Episcopal bishop of New Hampshire who is openly and proudly gay. He has been tapped, along with the equally venerable evangelical Rick Warren, to participate in the presidential inaugural events. (Robinson got to kick things off Sunday and Warren gets to wrap them up Tuesday.)

Born in Boston, Charles (“the culture warrior formerly known as Chuck”) Colson is known for his time in the Nixon Whitehouse and prison, then subsequent born-again experience. These credentials are enough in broad evangelicalism’s cult of personality to catapult one into a silent but vociferous popery. Vanguard of all things ECT, Colson has also recently published “The Faith,” which, whatever else it promises, from all appearances looks to be another effort to persuade Protestants they really do have a horse in the “culture of life” race. Since most are long since convinced of that anyway, this should be more an affirmation than an apologetic.

Assuming the reader is even more familiar with American religion than these thumbnail sketches provide, at first blush it might seem like one couldn’t find two more different figures.

But in a recent New York Times piece Bishop Robinson echoes a sentiment he gave in an NPR interview. Referring to presidential inaugural prayers in the past, he indicated that he was “horrified” at how “specifically and aggressively Christian they were” and resolves:

I am very clear that this will not be a Christian prayer, and I won’t be quoting Scripture or anything like that. The texts that I hold as sacred are not sacred texts for all Americans, and I want all people to feel that this is their prayer.

For what it may be worth, I am inclined to agree with Robinson’s impression as he glanced through the history of presidential inaugurations, although perhaps for different reasons. What I think he observed was a record festooned with the ghastly violations of the spirituality of the church and a brazen display of Constantinianism. I would gather, though, his gasp was over the fact that a particular version of religious belief held public sway that was not his. In other words, like rivaling social gospels, the wrong kind of Constantinianism had been dominant. And it is now “high time” his brand of neutered religiosity graced the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.

It appears that Robinson was true to his word. His prayer offered up Sunday was a thorough-going example of a hushed Christianity crafted just right for a kinder, gentler Constantinianism.

For his part, in the “Foreword” to Keith Fornier’s Evangelical Catholics, Colson writes:

The pain and distrust between Catholics and Protestants goes [sic] back centuries. The church has often been plagued by wars within her walls, crippling her in her battle against the encroaching armies of secularism. But at root, those who are called of God, whether Catholic or Protestant, are part of the same Body. What they share is a belief in the basics: the virgin birth, the deity of Christ, His bodily resurrection, His imminent return, and the authority of his infallible Word. They also share the same mission: presenting Christ as Savior and Lord to a needy world. … It’s high time that all of us who are Christians come together regardless of the differences in our confessions and our traditions and make common cause to bring Christian values to bear in our society. When the barbarians are scaling the walls, there is no time for petty quarreling in the camp.

What Robinson and Colson have in common is the notion that theological devotion is trumped by ideological care. As each would seem to have it, it is appropriate for religious conviction to be relegated to a privatized sphere when the really crucial matters are on the table. This is not the sort of privatizing those who would a Reformed doctrine of the spirituality of the church or a Lutheran conception of two kingdoms; this is the sort that actually betrays the measure of shame of which confessional Protestants are wrongly accused. Seen, perhaps, but not heard. One of the ironies in their shared assumption that theological persuasion is to be cordoned off in this way is that it co-exists with an effort to make theology directly relevant to public life. In Robinson’s case, getting a bright young president and his country ceremoniously off on the right foot far exceeds whatever the texts he quietly holds as sacred might demand. For Colson, the “petty” differences and doctrinal nuances better confessional Protestants and Catholics know make all the difference serve only to retard making the world a better place. With friends like this, who needs Rodney King?

The White Horse Inn has introduced its 2009 theme with a broadcast called, “Christ in a Post-Christian Culture.” Insofar as, when you ask me, this is arguably the most important sort of discussion of our time, I am well pleased.

Referencing a conversation he has had with British theologian John Milbank who wants to see a recovery of the Constaninian era, saying only Christians are fit to rule, Mike Horton comments:

“I would love to rule because I think I have some good ideas. We all think that if things were run our way that would be great. And as Christians we would like to think that the way we think and the way we would rule is Christian. And so it’s easy for us to invoke Christianity for what really we could hold and wish could happen if we weren’t Christians at all. It’s such a wonderful thing that I live in a country where all sorts of people have to make arguments in public and that no particular segment of that culture and particular religion gets to dictate what everyone else has to believe and practice in the public sphere.”

Wait, what’s that you say? Christian believers don’t have a monopoly on temporal ideas simply because the eternal Holy Ghost indwells them? I think western religion begs to greatly (greatly!) differ, even as heads nod and mouths smile. The “separation of church and state” sounds real good until those who are mouthing the phrase realize that what Horton is suggesting threatens to undo their enormously inflated sense of power and influence, both institutionally and personally. Then there is all the pesky jazz about having to actually earn your keep like everyone else, inhabit and share a world that includes people with whom you really disagree and face the reality that you could be wrong about something and, even if you aren’t, have to learn to live with losing today and press on tomorrow like a good sport. In other words, grow up. That isn’t easy for a Christian culture suckled on notions of entitlement, deep vanity and superiority, thus having more in common with Augustas Gloop and Veruca Salt than Charlie Bucket.

I wish the Inn well, as the brats they mean to chastize are nasty buggers that usually go down kicking and screaming (where’s a team of squirrels, a bad-nut-o-meter, a garbage chute and an incinerator when you really need them?). In the meantime, the broadcast reminded me of a post from 2007.

Mike Horton writes in God of Promise:

After briefly sketching out the narrative of Cain in his “stay of execution that allows Cain to build a city,” Horton explains that:

…we begin the story with one creation, one covenant, one people, one mandate, one city. Then after the fall, there is a covenant of creation (with its cultural mandate still in effect for all people, with the law of that covenant universally inscribed on the conscience) and a covenant of grace (with its gospel publicly announced to transgressors), a City of Man (secular but even in its rejection of God, upheld by God’s gracious hand for the time being) and a City of God (holy but even in its acceptance by God, sharing in the common curse of a fallen world). Just as the failure to distinguish law covenant from promise covenant leads to manifold confusions in our understanding of salvation, tremendous problems arise when we fail to distinguish adequately between God’s general care for the secular order and his special concern for the redemption of his people.

Religious fundamentalism tends to see the world simply divided up into believers and unbelievers. The former are blessed, loved by God, holy, and doers of the right, while the latter are cursed, hated by God, unholy, and doers of evil. Sometimes this is taken to quite an extreme: believers are good people, and their moral, political, and doctrinal causes are always right, always justified, and can never be questioned. Unless the culture is controlled by their agenda, it is simply godless and unworthy of the believers’ support. This perspective ignores the fact that according to Scripture, all of us—believers and unbelievers alike—are simultaneously under a common curse and common grace.

Religious liberalism tends to see the world simply as one blessed community. Ignoring biblical distinctions between those inside and those outside of the covenant community, this approach cannot take the common curse seriously because it cannot take sin seriously…everything is holy.

…[But] the human race is not divided at the present time between those who are blessed and those who are cursed. That time is coming, of course, but in this present age, believers and unbelievers alike share in the pains of childbirth, the burdens of labor, the temporal effects of their own sins, and the eventual surrender of their decaying bodies to death…there is in this present age a category for that which is neither holy nor unholy but simply common.

I have no idea if your math skills are as bottom-of-the-barrel awful as mine, but in my line of work, the Venn Diagram has been something with which I recently had to grapple. As I soon discovered, it really isn’t all that complicated, even for a supreme dolt like me who didn’t have the fortune of inheriting the mathematical-spatial gene like my brother. As you may or may not know, the classic Venn is two intersecting circles. One circle contains things only proper to one group, the other only proper to another; in the middle, where they converge, is common ground. For example, a directive might present a student with a list of words that are a mix of verbs and nouns. The direction would be to place all nouns in the left hand circle and all the verbs in the right. Then it would ask the student to place in the middle all words that contain the letter “e” or even “all the English words.”

Similarly, I have come to understand what Horton traces out as triadalism to work the same way. In the left circle, we could say exists unbelievers and all the things proper to them eternally speaking is contained therein (e.g. judgment, and all the related properties) and in the right circle the same for believers (e.g. redemption and all the related properties); but in the middle is where we all exist under natural law and its related properties, which takes absolutely no account of our previous status as either blessed or condemned.

In Reformed confessionalism there seems a delicate balance is struck to make sure to radically separate the spheres so as to make no mistake that there are indeed two people that are diametrically opposed to one another. So much so that when He Who is the Head of those who are children of the Light came into the world that it was he who does the bidding of his father the devil put the former upon a tree. At the same time, however, it is careful not to make the same error of Fundamentalism which stops here and orchestrates a model of piety that creates a simplistic world of black and white, us and them, etc. This is the Fundamentalism with which I am familiar. It is a piety that has no category for common ground and tends very heavily to have very simplistic views of just how the world should shake out. In the mini-world of Fundamentalism, the wider world is an easy place to figure out as the good guys and bad guys are easily discerned and their agendas simple to demarcate as being either righteous or evil. Thankfully enough, many people who labor under this paradigm don’t often behave as poorly as their system seems to imply; at times they actually speak and behave more like triadalists since it is, after all, inevitable.

Nevertheless, my confessionalism is ill at ease with this Fundamentalist approach, as I find the world not only a messy and complicated place but one I like to be in even in the midst of its messiness. An obvious implication of Fundamentalism is that there are certain worldly quarters in which a believer just shouldn’t be. While that may be true, I have always found that the litany of “off limits” quarters tends to be too, well, liberal.

But neither does confessional Reformed orthodoxy seem to slip into the collapsing of the spheres one experiences within Liberalism and its correlatives, everything from universalism to notions that every American effort to effect one form of righteousness or another is an interest and work of God. It is ironic how most households of Fundamentalism also flirt heavily with the more Liberal assumptions that one social or moral agenda or another has the divine sanction of God. Thus, anymore one senses a sort of hybrid in broad Evangelicalism in which there are undercurrents of grandpa’s Fundamentalism churning and roiling beneath Liberal-esque notions that the kingdoms must necessarily collapse into one another, causing the big bad world to be swallowed up by the children of the Light via their various and sundry agendas. Some have even called Evangelicals the “new Liberals” as they are often aligned with a social gospel of the Right. Just as much children of Modernity as the descendants of Schleiermacher, the point still seems to be the improvement of the world by the lights of cultural rightists. Nevertheless, the problem with the blue or red fires of men is that neither burns as hot as the white heat of God.

Indeed, what the apparent model of triadalism does in its set of assumptions is to actually maximize that middle sphere so that there is an expanse of territory within which Christians may work liberally with other believers as well as non-Christians to do the work of the Left-Hand kingdom. Contra the liberal litany of “off limits” that Fundamentalism engenders, triadalism constricts the “off limits” and emphasizes, in a manner of speaking, the former part of being “in the world but not of it.” Moreover, this also seems to imply that such work may be done within the experience of relative disagreement, even amongst believers themselves. Nobody need be straddled by any version of political correctness or group-think, that is, if he has the wherewithal to resist either the radical dualism of Fundamentalism or the siren song of kingdom-collapse seen in Liberalism, theonomy or transformationalism.

As providence would have it once again, my oldest daughter came home from school recently needing help on all these new exercises, the blessed Venn Diagrams. Even though this may well have been the last time I will be able to offer her any helpful assistance on her math homework (thank heaven for her mother), I intend on inculcating in her and her sister the religious power of the Venn.

I think I ended up with a pretty bare-bones post here. Perhaps we can add some meat in the comments section. Here I go:

People in the one kingdom camp sometimes ask those of us who hold a two kingdoms theology a question that goes something like this: “If there are two kingdoms, and Christ is Lord over one kingdom, then who is lord over the other kingdom?”

When government is the topic of discussion, and we argue that government is of the civil kingdom and not the spiritual, the above question might be asked as a starter to point out what the Bible clearly says concerning the magistrate; his authority comes from God, he is God’s servant, and we are called to pray for him. So then, as the argument goes, it appears government is spiritual. If government, along with everything else, is part of the one spiritual kingdom, then Scripture is the moral standard for government and we as Christians must make sure our government submits to it.

But this question and this argument misunderstand our position. To be clear; God is sovereign over all and He governs both kingdoms. Our position, as David VanDrunen and others have outlined, is that God rules over the two realms in two different ways, one as creator and sustainer, but not as redeemer; the other not only as creator and sustainer, but also as redeemer. We affirm that God has given authority to those who rule over us in civil government, that God carries out his purposes in them, and that we are to pray for them. But government is an institution of the temporal kingdom of man, not the eschatological kingdom of God. Its end is not salvation in Christ.

But do the Reformed confessions support the two kingdoms doctrine on this? Are we outside our confessions when it comes to what they say about government? Let’s take a look:

WCF 23.1: God, the supreme Lord and King of all the world, has ordained civil magistrates, to be, under Him, over the people, for His own glory, and the public good: and, to this end, has armed them with the power of the sword, for the defense and encouragement of them that are good, and for the punishment of evil doers.

As I’ve already explained, the doctrine of the two kingdoms affirms that God rules over both the civil and the spiritual kingdoms and that God has given those who rule in the civil government their authority. WCF 23.1 does no harm to our position.

WCF 23.3: Civil magistrates may not assume to themselves the administration of the Word and sacraments; or the power of the keys of the kingdom of heaven; or, in the least, interfere in matters of faith. Yet, as nursing fathers, it is the duty of civil magistrates to protect the church of our common Lord, without giving the preference to any denomination of Christians above the rest, in such a manner that all ecclesiastical persons whatever shall enjoy the full, free, and unquestioned liberty of discharging every part of their sacred functions, without violence or danger. And, as Jesus Christ hath appointed a regular government and discipline in his church, no law of any commonwealth should interfere with, let, or hinder, the due exercise thereof, among the voluntary members of any denomination of Christians, according to their own profession and belief. It is the duty of civil magistrates to protect the person and good name of all their people, in such an effectual manner as that no person be suffered, either upon pretense of religion or of infidelity, to offer any indignity, violence, abuse, or injury to any other person whatsoever: and to take order, that all religious and ecclesiastical assemblies be held without molestation or disturbance.

This article draws a bright line between the two kingdoms. The Word, sacraments and church discipline are administered and used by the church only. The civil government maintains order in society at large. Some might argue that because the article focuses on the magistrate’s duty to protect the church, a two kingdoms distinction is not there. But you see, when order is maintained and evil doers are punished in the civil kingdom, the spiritual kingdom (the church) benefits from that order and protection, as do all other “religious and ecclesiastical assemblies.” WCF 23.3 is what the church confesses concerning the role of the authorities God has put over us, it does not teach that civil government is an instrument of the church or that the Bible is to be the moral standard for the civil government. The article also tells us where governments do not belong, and in doing this it separates the kingdoms by placing church and state matters in their proper places.

BCF Article 36: We believe that our gracious God, because of the depravity of mankind, has appointed kings, princes, and magistrates; willing that the world should be governed by certain laws and policies; to the end that the dissoluteness of men might be restrained, and all things carried on among them with good order and decency. For this purpose He has invested the magistracy with the sword for the punishment of evil-doers and for the protection of them that do well.

Their office is not only to have regard unto and watch for the welfare of the civil state, but also to protect the sacred ministry, that the kingdom of Christ may thus be promoted. They must therefore countenance the preaching of the Word of the gospel everywhere, that God may be honored and worshiped by every one, as He commands in His Word.

Moreover, it is the bounded duty of every one, of whatever sate, or condition he may be, to subject himself to the magistrates; to pay tribute, to show due honor and respect to them, and to obey them in all things which are not repugnant to the Word of God; to supplicate for them in their prayers that God may rule and guide them in all their ways, and that we may lead a tranquil and quiet life in all godliness and gravity.

Wherefore we detest the Anabaptists and other seditious people, and in general all those who reject the higher powers and magistrates and would subvert justice, introduce community of goods, and confound that decency and good order which God has established among men.

I’ll quote some of Daniel Hyde’s comments on this article:

[T]he [Belgic] Confession describes the church in articles 27-35 as a spiritual kingdom that exists in the midst of the kingdoms of this world. In article 36 the Reformers’ doctrine of the two kingdoms is clearly in the background. The Latin term used in the title, magistratus, speaks of the “civil office,” in contrast to the “spiritual polity” of the church described in article 30.4.

Daniel R. Hyde, With Heart and Mouth: An Exposition of the Belgic Confession (Grandville, MI: Reformed Fellowship, 2008), 479

Hyde continues on page 481 to say that God appoints the magistrate according to his “goodness, not his grace” and “in creation, not redemption,” pointing out that the word gracious at the start of this article is a poor translation from the Latin text adopted by the Synod of Dort (some versions of the Confession say “our good God” in the opening sentence). In God’s goodness he has given authority to those who govern for the protection of depraved mankind. As evil is restrained in society by the magistrate, the sacred ministry is protected and the kingdom is promoted so that God may be worshiped.

Conclusion: The Reformed confessions teach that governments are institutions of the civil kingdom, not the spiritual kingdom. Two kingdoms theology is in agreement with the Reformed confessions on the subject of civil governments because they ground them in creation, not redemption. We are confessional when we conclude that the Holy Scriptures of the spiritual kingdom, the Bible, is not the moral code for civil government.

When I first heard about some man who was taking a publisher to court for emotional damages caused him by the Bible they print, I thought that I might find this story on the pages of The Onion. But no, it was in the real news.

A Canton (MI) man is suing Zondervan publishing for 70 million dollars because he claims their translation of the Bible has caused him some serious pain and suffering. Read all about it HERE.
Since this link will disappear in 10 days, I’ll give you a quote:

Fowler (the plaintiff) alleges Zondervan’s Bibles referring to homosexuality as a sin have made him an outcast from his family and contributed to physical discomfort and periods of “demoralization, chaos and bewilderment.”

The intent of the publisher was to design a religious, sacred document to reflect an individual opinion or a group’s conclusion to cause “me or anyone who is a homosexual to endure verbal abuse, discrimination, episodes of hate, and physical violence … including murder,” Fowler wrote.

Does this mean I can sue Zondervan for publishing books by Rob Bell?

I wouldn’t have given this story a much thought were it not for a reporter at the radio station I produce for covering it. THIS LINK has an audio interview (7 minutes) with a constitutional law attorney concerning the case. Some interesting Church and State issues are discussed. The Establishment Clause is the reason this guy doesn’t have a case.

Public Radio is sweet.

Now I’m off to fix Zrim’s messy posts.