Jesus knew of what He spoke when He warned us to look out for the beam in our own eyes before getting too concerned about the speck in the eye of our brother. Our problem, having been forewarned by Jesus, is that we seek, through the diabolical art of simultaneous translation, to shrink this warning down to size. That is, we escape the far reaching implications of this command by turning it into a mere warning against hypocrisy. We fail to meet this standard, we seem to reason, only in those instances wherein the mote and the speck are of exactly the same genus, species and phylum. We think Jesus is telling us only that we should not remove the speck of sin a in our neighbor if we are more guilty of a more egregious form of sin A. Certainly a failure here carries with it a special flavor of hypocrisy that must be sweet to the lips of the serpent. But we ought to realize that the issue is the relative size of the sins, not the relative ontological closeness of the sins.
If my friend, for instance, misused his computer as is the manner of too many men, and I, on the other hand, availed myself of the services of “working women” I would certainly run afoul of this warning if I got in his face about the computer. The same is true, however, if my friend is a touch stingy, and I confront him on it while I am up to my eyeballs in the fear of men. The warning hits home corporately if his tradition has not sufficiently entered into the necessary implications of the sovereignty of God, and my tradition is given to profound intellectual pride. Truth be told, my tradition is given to profound intellectual pride. All those who are persuaded that their minds are the cat’s meow will, at least for a time, visit the world of the Reformed. And they will feel right at home. There together we will use our great intellects to catalog the theological errors of our neighbors. We will look down our noses at the poor benighted fools who use canned and inaccurate spiels to bring in the lost, while we do nothing to bring in the lost. We will show our impiety by mocking the Gnostic tinged piety of those with tender consciences in our midst, while our robust consciences throw genuine guilt off like so much dandruff.
We will focus more clearly on the sin in our own lives, those beams that so blind us, as we seek to better tend our own gardens. We will do that when we begin all our intellectual exercises, even all our spiritual exercises by asking this question first- where is my sin in all this? Here, though, is the glorious promise. The upside down economy of the Lord Jesus applies here as well. That is, even as we must be last to be first, we must die to live, so we must turn inward, looking to our own sins and our own weaknesses if we really want to change the world. Removing beams in our own eyes will have far greater global impact than going in a speck hunt in the eyes of our neighbors. I want to change the world. It must, however, begin with me.
Dunamis Fellowship and Sovereign Grace Fellowship continue our weekly Bible study at 7 eastern. Tonight we continue, Meeting Jesus. All are welcome to attend. Come early (6:15) and we’ll feed you. You can also watch on Facebook Live, RC-Lisa Sproul. We hope you join us .
No one, I suspect, would argue that the United States is perfect, nor ever has been. There have always been and always will be plenty of national failures to repent over. No one, however, would either take the position that the United States is the most evil nation the world has ever known. Almost every Christian in the country can agree that while we are citizens of the kingdom of Christ, the country He has placed us in is blessed but flawed.
Which is why it seems rather strange to me that one of the things Christians have been fighting over of late is “Christian nationalism.” All of us are on the same spectrum. None of us are on either extreme edge. Shouldn’t we be able to get along better? I have something of a heavy foot. Anyone who has ever taken a ride with me will quickly confirm that truth. I have, however, plenty of times, had cars go screaming past me. I have had pokey drives hold me up, often even in the left lane. I see myself as smack dab in the middle, not of a lane, but the spectrum of drivers. Those whizzing past me are crazy people. Those holding me up drive people crazy.
So it is with patriotism. I get annoyed when Christians wrap the gospel up in the American flag. I cringe when local churches ask the congregation to say the Pledge of Allegiance. I’m frustrated that so many of those who love and rejoice over our founding principles seem to have no clue that those principles have long since been trampled underfoot of Leviathan. But because those principles continue to be trampled underfoot even in our churches (or perhaps I should say outside our churches since we seem to have to wait for Caesar to give us permission to go inside), because I have deep and profound distrust of the party of death, its president, its various governors and its Chief Priest, the witchdoctor Jabjab, this makes me in the eyes of some guilty of Christian nationalism.
“Christian nationalism” is either the fever dream of those caught in the throes of Trump Derangement Syndrome or as rare as polio. Those screeching about it as some grave danger are the same ones who told us we’d all die if we left our homes, if we travelled abroad, if we didn’t get jabbed, if we didn’t wear masks. It is front and center of the strategy of the left to quell the principled right. It is Big Eva wearing the letterman’s jacket of that big man on campus, the quarterback of the Social Respectability team.
Do not miss the irony. One earns the epithet “Christian nationalist” simply by not embracing the ideology of the reigning power of our nation. One will be cast out of polite society for not toeing the party line. It’s the Christian version of Antifa, attacking lovers of liberty by fascistically denouncing and de-platforming them as fascists. The solution is not to wave the flag harder, but to trust the true King more fully. All authority in heaven and on earth has been given unto Him. Let us be of good cheer, for He has already overcome the world.
It is no new insight to note that in America the evangelical church is worldly and anemic. We are so earthly minded that we are no heavenly good. The anemia comes from the worldliness. But whence comes the worldliness? Like any other sin, we have options for placing its advent. We could argue that it began with the latest fad to hit the church. Or we could go back to the beginning, to the garden. Both have their advantages. It might be more helpful, however, to see the beginning of this descent at the height of the fundamentalist-modernist controversy.
Fundamentalism is so named for a fundamental reason. It was a movement that concerned itself with affirming, defending, and maintaining the fundamentals of the faith. As a movement, it affirmed the authority of the Bible. It affirmed the accounts therein of creation, of miracles, of the virgin birth, of the death and resurrection of Jesus. It affirmed the necessity of conversion through faith in the finished work of Christ. It affirmed, in short, the defining issues of historical evangelicalism. Why, then, isn’t the controversy called “the evangelical-modernist” controversy? To get at that answer we must ask another. What is it that distinguishes evangelicals and fundamentalists? Suddenly our problem becomes clear. An evangelical is a fundamentalist that wants the respect of modernists, and sells his soul to get it.
That is to say, the difference between a fundamentalist and an evangelical isn’t the content of their respective beliefs, but the way in which those beliefs are held. Fundamentalists, to their credit, clung to the fundamentals like a pit bull on a t-bone. There was nothing attractive or sophisticated about it, but everyone knew you’d never tear the two apart. The evangelical, on the other hand, sought to find, at least culturally, a middle ground. Yes, we believe in the authority of the Bible, but we believe it for nice, professional, academic reasons. Indeed, all that we believe we believe for nice, professional, academic reasons. What separates evangelicals from fundamentalists is that we evangelicals don’t breathe fire, and we have fancy degrees hanging in our studies, instead of pictures of Billy Sunday. We evangelicals are they who cut this deal with the modernists, “We will call you brother, if you will call us scholar.”
Please don’t misunderstand. The point isn’t that the right way to believe in the fundamentals is to be stupid. Instead, the point is that the right way to believe in the fundamentals is with a holy indifference to what others think about us. Anything less leads us right where we are. That is, any movement that begins with a fear of those we are seeking to win has already been won by those that are feared. We thought we were defending the fundamentals, but we were giving away the store. Weakness disguised as compromise compromised our convictions, and exposed our weakness. Because we were too worldly to not care, we have become too worldly to matter.
We still follow that same path today. For fear of offending the lost, we will not tell them they are lost. For fear of looking narrow and close-minded, we have made peace not just with the deadly secularism of modernism, but with the doubly deadly folly of postmodernism. There the culture itself reflects our uncertainty, refusing to make affirmations, just like us. In our pride we have embraced a humility that won’t stand for anything.
Our Shepherd, however, calls us to a different path. He tells us that having those outside the faith revile us for our faith is something to be sought, not something to be avoided, that those who experience the disdain of the world for His name’s sake are blessed. The fundamentalists of the last century were laughed at and scorned. And for that they earned the praise of Jesus. May we find the courage not only to affirm the fundamentals, but may we be given a double portion of the spirit of the fundamentalists. They fought the good fight, while we collaborated. They kept the faith, while we merely kept our positions in our communities. May we learn to fear no man, and to fear God. For such is the beginning of wisdom.
“Oneness Pentecostals” are, as one might expect, people committed to a Pentecostal understanding of sign gifts, and people who are likewise committed to a non-trinitarian understanding of the trinity. Pentecostal can either describe people who hold to a peculiar view, or it can describe people of a particular denomination. “Reformed” is much the same way. When it comes to theological categories, I am Reformed. That is, I believe in the theology of the Reformers- I’m a Calvinist with respect to how we are redeemed. I have a covenantal understanding of the relationship between the Old and New Covenants. But I’m not Reformed denominationally. There are any number of denominations that call themselves Reformed, mostly from a Dutch background.
There are any number of Pentecostal denominations, and then there are denominations and individuals who embrace “Pentecostal” thinking. In that broader category the distinguishing qualities would be the belief that sign gifts, such as speaking in tongues, miraculous healings, prophecy, etc. are still around for us today.
A second doctrine common in Pentecostal circles is the notion that it is possible for Christians to no longer sin. This is a significantly destructive error. It is one of those errors where I just can’t see how they get around the plain teaching of Scripture. John says “If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us” (I John 1:8). The only thing not perfectly clear in this passage is what John means by “the truth is not in us.” Does he mean merely that anyone making such a claim is in error, or that said person is not indwelt by the Holy Spirit?
Oneness Pentecostals, however, are another matter. They not only likely believe it possible for a man to be without sin after his conversion, but they deny that God is one God who exists in three persons. This sub-group denies an essential of the faith. They affirm a damnable heresy, modalism, that was condemned by the church over fifteen hundred years ago. (Modalism, in short, teaches that there is one God who appears in three different roles, masks, or modes.)
One could make the case that one ought not to reason with these folks, that such is a dangerous casting of pearls before swine. These are not merely lost souls who haven’t heard the gospel. These are not merely saints caught up in error. These are heretics that disturb the peace of the church. On the other hand, if we are indeed called to reason with them, here are two general tracks one might consider. First, one might begin by arguing for the doctrine of the Trinity from the Scriptures. Just as I don’t know how perfectionists could possibly deal with the I John passage mentioned above, I don’t know how Oneness folks answer the baptism of Jesus, wherein while Jesus is baptized the Spirit descends and the Father speaks. I don’t know how they deal with Jesus’ promise to send “another” helper. I’m sure, however, they’ve heard these objections, and at least have some attempt at an answer.
I have in the past encouraged people caught up in this kind of error to consider the a-historical nature of their perspective. That is, I encourage them to understand better the nature of the church. If the church spoke fifteen hundred years ago, in and through an ecumenical council, then wouldn’t it be prudent to submit to the wisdom of the church? What else is open to debate, if the church can never settle an issue?
Finally, in all honesty, the weakest point, the point of vulnerability may well be the doctrine of perfectionism. These folks know, deep down, that they are sinners, and that they aren’t fooling anybody. Show them their sin, and they may just, by the sovereign grace of God, cry out for the grace of God in Christ.
