Here is something TF Torrance has to say that dovetails a bit with my points on “two-ages,” previously:
When the church came to relate the kingdom of God to history, idealism took the place of eschatology. The church cannot live or work without an ideal, a goal, and end or telos, and without having some idea of the eschaton, the final end. But there is a vast difference between an ideal end in the Greek sense and the New Testament eschaton, the end that has in Christ broken into time, for all the formal similarity that they may bear. The difference between the two conceptions is precisely the core of the Christian gospel. The Greek end is always and ideal end. As human beings, we are not what we ought to be, but no matter how much we try individually or in history to be what we ought to be, the end is still ideal and beyond our grasp. In the Christian gospel, this end has broken into the present and is even now operative in the world through the message of the gospel. Because it has actually entered history, the whole of Christian thought and action can no longer be conceived in terms of idealism. The Christian’s end remains the final end, but because that end has broken into time and yet transcends time we are conscious of it here and now. (Thomas F. Torrance, “Incarnation,” 304)
This is a problem that could potentially plague all “systems” of eschatology. The only one that I can think of that explicitly follows the idealism that TF describes is Classic/Revised Dispensationalism; although there are forms of even amillennialism that collapses the “ideal” into the fabric of history so that the “end” is realized by way of realizing the potential of the human spirit (or geist of history). The point, to take away, is that if we don’t see God’s life as eschatological, we will locate the point of human history and the kingdom of God into the far off future; when in fact all of scripture’s perspective is thoroughly dripping with eschatology. Thus the tension of the “now and the not yet;” which, for example the Apostle Paul constantly appeals to in his writings (cf. II Cor 4:10; 5:5, 17; etc.). The “Classic Dispensationalist” necessarily reads the “kingdom” language of scripture in this idealist way, in a way that, coincidentally, or not took shape in a world wherein the theories of Marx and Darwinianism (of human “progression” to an ideal utopia) were very popular at the time — just something to think about.
This has been a point of consternation for me, over the years, but one that is finally coming to an end. I grew up Classic Dispensational, moved to Progressive Dispensationalism (for the last 10yrs approx), and finally have consummated with the Amillennial position. I first read A Case for Amillennialism by Kim Riddlebarger about five years ago; and it piqued my interest (even though I was avowedly against amillennialism, as a staunch dispy/premiller). I went on to read other books by Hoekma, Grenz, Beale, et al., all amillers, and very helpful in my decision making on this issue; beyond that, and since then I have read much of TF Torrance who is certainly amil in approach (and I think, of course for good reason, since much of this issue revolves around how one conceives of time and eternity). I have gone back and forth over the years, but the reality is is that I think amil when I approach scripture; and at the same time, though, I’ve been trying to fit that thinking into the Progressive Dispy framework — which in the end really doesn’t work.
Anyway, I’ve kind’ve put this issue on the back burners, given other things going on in life, both physically and theologically; but recently was prompted to revisit it, so I picked up Riddlebarger’s book again wherein he provides some really good exegesis on key texts in regards to establishing the veracity of the amil position contra the premil/dispy approach (or even again postmil for that matter). After re-reviewing this, thinking through the strong arguments for the amil position (its interpretation of key texts like: Dan. 9; Mt. 24; Rom. 9–11; Rev. 20; etc.), from both a biblically theological and dogmatical orientation I am more than happy to identify as an amiller. This might seem “quick,” but I assure you it’s not; I’ve been dealing with this issue for years, and it’s time for me to just admit that amil is the best way forward (the only reason I’ve been holding onto dispyism is sadly for sentimental reasons, more than anything else, it’s what I grew up with, it’s where all my ties, culturally, have been). In fact I really find it to be a very refreshing and edifying way to approach scripture; so often I felt I had to contrive things to make the dispy system work. In other words I find the amil system very much so to represent a straightforward reading of scripture; and the thing I find most refreshing is its focus on Christ as the touchstone to scripture (vs. the nation of Israel a la dispyism), by way of interpretation.
Anyway, there it is, from here on out I’ll be known as an amillennialist in regards to this all important interpretive issue. The scriptures actually open up through this approach in ways that were shut down in my dispy days (i.e. Daniel 9 takes on a whole new perspective, very Messianic in orientation). I would encourage anyone interested in this issue to pick up Kim’s aforementioned book: A Case for Amillennialism; it is very good, and straightforward, especially for those who come from a dispy background (it will give you alot to chew on, at least).
Caveat: Riddlebarger’s book is promoting a “Federal approach” of interpreting things, he has a whole section devoted to this kind of interpretation in chapters: 4–11. What his book is helpful for, instead, is introducing folks to the issues (Grenz’s book: “Millennial Maze” is actually better for this); but really what I’ve found helpful are his chapters: 12-15 and his interpretation of key texts relative to this issue. There are certain literary features of interpretation that Riddlebarger appeals to that are helpful; but I am aware of another approach of interpretation that does not have to ground itself in the ‘Federal or Covenantal’ “way” here, it is known as the Canonical Critical approach (most commonly associated in its ‘Evangelical’ form with John Sailhammer). This approach appreciates the literary themes and motifs emphasized in scripture, which Federalists, at points, pick up on (although their approach is more ‘loaded’ with excess theological baggage than I am comfortable with). Anyway, the way I’m approaching this will be through this lens (more of the ‘canonical approach’); and then the ‘Covenantal’ approach provided by folks like T. F. Torrance (and the ‘Evangelical Calvinists’ of Scotland).
Anyone who speaks a word against the Son of Man will be forgiven, but anyone who speaks against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven, either in this age or in the age to come. –Matthew 12:32
What I want to highlight here is the idea of “two ages,” and its relationship to forming an eschatology of the New Testament. The NT constantly speaks with such language, I think what becomes clear, quite quickly, is that we live in an ‘already’ time (cf. “this age”), and then we look forward to an ‘not yet’ consummation (cf. “the age to come”). Both of these ages find their reference in the Person and work of Jesus Christ, in other words when He came the first time; He fulfilled all of the promises of the Old Testament, in an inaugural, yet ‘real’ way. This is the basis of saying that we live in an ‘already’ reality of the kingdom of Jesus (don’t forget the ‘Son of David’ promise/fulfillment motif, cf. II Sam. 7; Mt. 1; Acts; Rom. 1; etc.), He said in Matthew 12:28,
But if I drive out demons by the Spirit of God, then the kingdom of God has come upon you. . . .
The point is, what Luke draws out for us as He restates what Jesus said:
. . . The kingdom of God does not come with your careful observation, 21. nor will people say, ‘Here it is,’ or ‘There it is,’ because the kingdom of God is within you. (20b-21)
The “kingdom” came in the person of Jesus, and first it is a “spiritual realization” (the ‘already’ where we live ‘now’); which Jesus reinforces in the Luke passage. It won’t be until the second advent where the ‘not yet’ of the age to come is fully realized in consummation with our bride groom. The age to come is indeed where the body and the spirit become consummate with another, it is at this point that we experience beatific vision, and the “glorification” phase of salvation (see Rom. 8:18ff for this “spiritual-bodily” progression).
Another passage that reflects this two-age model is found Ephesians 1:19-20,
. . . and his incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is like the working of his mighty strength, 20. which he exerted in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms, . . .
What is Paul referencing? It is the resurrection of Christ, and our raising with Him spiritually (‘already’ ‘this age’); with an proleptic eye toward the bodily resurrection (‘not yet’ ‘the age to come’). The implication is that if we are seated with Christ, and seated in the heavenlies, now; then we are currently partaking of, spiritually, what we will realize bodily when Christ comes the second time (the age to come). The point I want to underscore, mostly, is the continuity between the two-ages; they both are rooted in the ‘one’ resurrection of Jesus. It is both a spiritual and physical resurrection, it must be if we are currently experiencing the heavenlies right now, in Christ. This whole thing is presupposed by the idea that indeed there are two-ages, if not then we are of “all men most to be pitied!”
Theological Afterthought
Really, and theologically, it is the incarnation that best analogues or provides framework for thinking about two-ages. Since the two-ages is really ‘code’ for the relationship of eternity (or supra-time) and time. It is the Logos asarkos (the WORD, Jesus, before incarnating) who purposes to assume humanity as the Logos ensarkos (the WORD incarnate Jn 1:14) whom makes it possible to speak of two-ages at all. This is true because He alone transverses the gap between humanity (in historic) time, and divinity (in eternity, or better, ’super-time’); He brings these two “ages” together in His life, reconciling humanity unto Himself. I see this as the basic, and inner logic, of the two-age model discussed in the passages of scripture above. Because Christ brought us into His intra-trinitarian life, through “becoming us” (in the incarnation), that we can truly hold to an ‘already’ and ‘not yet’ aspect of the kingdom (the kingdom truly being the life of God). Both ‘ages’ are given continuity and reality through the inseparably related and yet distinct natures of Christ; as ‘this age’ constantly finds ‘life’ as it is ‘received’ from the ‘age to come’. This implies one more thing, time (this age) is always and already eschatological, as the ‘now’ is already the ‘not yet’ in the person of Christ!
In a previous postthe issue of eschatological and interpretive schemes came up, in that post I asserted that I hold to the Progressive Dispensational model; which as anyone who has followed me, over time, has been an issue under real re-consideration for me — in fact, to the point where in the past couple of years I had even claimed to be amil in orientation. I speak strong at points because I believe that if someone holds to a position they should do so with conviction; that does not mean that that same person cannot have a change of mind, and when they do they should do so with the same force they held their other position with. Having said, that let me quote myself on what I see as the strengths represented by amillennialism; the following is something I wrote a couple of years ago, and interestingly monergism.com has been using it as a caption for their “amil” category (which makes me feel good, in the sense that amillers think that I understand their position this well). Anyway here is what I wrote:
The Amillennialist affirms that the people of Israel have not been cast off or replaced, but rather, that the Gentiles have now been included among the Jews in God’s Covenantal promises. In other words, not replacement but expansion. God’s redemptive plan, as first promised to Abraham, was that “all nations” would be blessed through him. Israel is, and always has been, saved the same as any other nation: by the promises to the seed, Christ. Amillennialists, do not believe in a literal 1000 year reign of Christ on earth after His second coming. Rather, they affirm that when Christ returns, the resurrection of both the righteous and wicked will take place simultaneously (see John 5), followed by judgment and the eternal state where heaven and earth merge and Christ reigns forever.
Strong points of Amillennialism
It is highly Christocentric: it makes Christ the center of all the biblical covenants (even the “Land” covenant or Siniatic) notes the universal scope of the Abrahamic Covenant (as key) to interpreting the rest of the biblical covenants
It sees salvation history oriented to a person (Christ), instead of a people (the nation of Israel)
It emphasizes continuity between the “people of God” (Israel and the Church are one in Christ Eph. 2:11ff)
It provides an ethic that is rooted in creation, and “re-creation” (continuity between God’s redemptive work now, carried over into the eternal state then)
It emphasizes a trinitarian view of God as it elevates the “person”, Christ Jesus, the second person of the trinity as the point and mediator of all history
It flows from a hermeneutic that takes seriously the literary character of the Scriptures (esp. the book of Revelation)
This is an issue I’m still thinking through, as I think though I am still claiming to be PD, so bear with me, the logical compromise to this is to hold to the historic or covenant premil position; since in reality this approach takes almost all of its interpretive cues from amil, except for the one that causes me the most problems within the amil interpretation of Revelation 20 and the thousand years (literal or not). My greatest concern is to adopt the approach that magnifies Jesus (throughout the Scriptures and methodologically) the most; while of course at the same time appropriating the approach that indeed captures the intent of scripture, but does not do so in a way that hybrids Scripture to its concerns and emphases. To be realistic, when approaching this issue, of eschatological/interpretive schemes, they are all going to err on one side or the other; which means that once one of these approaches is adopted it should always be kept in mind that these frameworks are “general” points of interpretive reference wherein there should be some elasticity and dynamism left for the interpreter to move and work within the emphases and expectations set by Scripture itself. In other words, whatever approach someone takes here, they should never sense a slavish commitment to maintaining the integrity of that system vis-’a-vis the confines set by Scripture; nevertheless, I still believe identifying with one of these frameworks will set the “general” tone and approach one takes to interpreting Scripture — which makes this a serious point of consideration for anyone interested in interpreting Scripture.
The following quote is from T. F. Torrance, he is discussing the term homoousion (of one substance), and its development within the early Christian Church. Notice the organic fluid nature that is being highlighted relative to this term’s function; I think something of significance is the underscoring of the relative importance of the term “homoousion” to the actual and Evangelical conceptuality that it captures. It is this language which served as the rallying cry from whence the early church took her trinitarian shape; in other words, homoousion was the culmination and symbol of an always and already assumption of the early Evangel—that Jesus and the Father (and the Holy Spirit) are of one substance (‘God of God’). I would encourage you to read this quote, it is quite long, but well worth your time!
In the Liber de Synodis, written in 359, Hilary tells us that he had already come to believe in the indivisible unity in being between the Son and the Father on the ground of what the Gospels and Epistles taught, before he even knew the word homoousion (or indeed had ever heard of the Nicene Creed), but it had greatly helped his belief. It is not the term itself that is significant but the central issue, the evangelical belief, which it was used to express. There is admittedly a danger in such expressions, for apart from the dubiousness of their history or their ambiguity, to make a single term carry such weight risks misunderstanding. “The infinite and boundless God cannot be made comprehensible by a few words of human speech.” If a brief expression like homoousios or consubstantialis is used, therefore, it must be interpreted with scrupulous care—and that is precisely what the Fathers undertook to do after the Council of Nicaea. Their primary intention was to preserve the heart and substance of the Gospel by providing safeguards for it against ‘the heretical rabble of the day’ and their gross misinterpretations. That is why the terms ousia and homoousios were used. Far from imposing an alien meaning upon the evangelical witness, theological language of this kind is adapted under the impact of divine revelation to convey themessage of the Gospel, so that in spite of the inadequacy of human language in itself it is made to indicate divine realities beyond its natural capacity and is to be understood in their light. That is how we are to regard the term homoousion in the Creed, which has been reforged or reminted through the believing and doxological commitment of the Church to God’s self-revelation in Jesus Christ and harnessed by the Gospel to convey the all important relation between the Son and the Father in a precise sense. This is to say, homoousion is in the first place an exegetical and clarificatory expression having to do with the semantic relation between the sign and the reality signified, but in view of the act of discovery (which like all creative advances is irreversible) that lay behind it and was assisted through its coining, homoousion took on the role of an interpretative frame through which general understanding of the evangelical and apostolic witness was given more exact guidance throughout the Church. What the homoousion did was to give expression to the ontological substructure upon which the meaning of various biblical texts rested and through which they were integrated. As such it proved to be one of those movements of thought from a preconceptual to a conceptual act of understanding which the committed mind takes under the compelling demands of the reality into which it inquires, in this instance, the truth as it is in Jesus Christ. Far from being a rigid and alien imposition upon the Gospel, the homoousion has proved, through its bearing upon the ontic nexus in the relation of Christ to God the Father, to be so fertile as an interpretative instrument serving the Gospel in its continuing disclosure of ever deeper truth, that it was honoured in the Early Church as an “inspired” insight granted to the Nicene Fathers. Thus even the term expressing this insight justified itself in Ecumenical Council after Ecumenical Council because of its generative and heuristic power, for it was pregnant with intimations of still profounder aspects of divine reality in Jesus Christ pressing for realization in the mind of the Church. This is not to claim for the term homoousion that it is somehow sacrosanct and beyond reconsideration, for all theological terms and concepts fall short of the realities they intend. Like any other creative “definition” of this kind, owing to its essentially semantic function this also must be continually tested and revised in the light of what it was coined to express in the first place, as well as in the light of its fertility in the subsequent history of thought. (T. F. Torrance, ed., “The Incarnation: Ecumenical Studies in the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed: 381 A. D.,” xi–xiii)
How is that for one paragraph! What I really appreciate about Torrance’s synopsis is his “de-technicalization” of this theological terminology via placing it in its ministerial perspective. The consequence is such that homoousion is seen for what it is, an “instrumental” symbol used to provide precise communication of a whole slough of theologically freighted reality; namely the significance of the incarnation and its implications. It is this one word that seeks to “serve” the proclamation of the Gospel by recognizing the “touchstone” truth of the “Good News;” viz. that God assumed humanity. Without this reality, there is no people of God, because there is no reconciliation of people!
Here is a great question that was posed by Scottish theologian H. R. Macintosh in a sermon he was giving in 1938; certainly how one answers this question speaks volumes to what “tradition” you approach God through, indeed there are at least two major traditions that theologians have tried to talk about and know God through — and Macintosh’s question revolves around those two traditions.
FIFTY years ago, and indeed much nearer our own day, discussion went on constantly regarding the Divinity of Christ. People raised the question: Is Christ one with God, is His nature the same as the Father’s? That was a vital problem, and will always remain so; but you will observe that it assumed that we knew beforehand what God is like, and could compare Jesus with Him, and thereupon decide whether Jesus corresponded to the Divine nature as we knew it. I think it is fairly accurate to say that just at present people are chiefly concerned not about the question whether Jesus is the same as God, but rather the question whether God is the same as Jesus. You see, they have turned the problem round and are looking at it from the other end. They say, we know what Christ was like, for we can read about Him in the Gospels; is God’s character of the same kind? Can we argue confidently from the one to the other? Can I take the mind and heart of Jesus Christ, as He lived among men and for men, and say to the perplexed, or to my own heart when it is troubled: There, that is what you can rely on at the very heart of the universe? God is exactly like Jesus, and as Dr. A. B. Bruce once said: “If God is like Jesus, this world has reason to be glad.” (Quote taken from: here)
Have you ever thought about this? Does your understanding of God come from looking at Jesus, or do you have an understanding of God, generically considered, which you fit the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit to? Or maybe you’re wondering, what about the Old Testament time, this was prior to Jesus’ incarnation, right?
Here is a video I did, when I still had hair , on the history of Calvinism (the weird thing is that I actually had cancer in this video, but wouldn’t find out for another few months); I am reading what I have transcribed below the video here, so if you just want to read it and not listen to it (or you can do both), then you can.
If you are one of those who is interested in the history of ideas, Puritanism, Calvinism, and such things; then the following may be of some interest to you. It might be longer than you like, the following that is, but I’m sorry; I just don’t know how else to try and condense this stuff.
I have often (on one or all of my other now defunct blogs) spoken of ‘another Calvinism’ that competed with the version of Calvinism that we know of today (i.e. Federal or Five-point). When I mention this most ‘Calvinists’ (of today) either think that I am talking crazy, or that what I am getting at is so idiosyncratic it is of no lasting value; and thus is not worth taking serious, one way or the other. Well I am going to continue to beat that drum, and hope that I will come across Calvinists who will take the time to listen; to consider that maybe ‘their’ orthodoxy, historically speaking, wasn’t the only Calvinist orthodoxy that was alive and well for so long in Old England Puritanism. My primary source, at the moment, for demonstrating such things is: Orthodoxies in Massachusetts: Rereading American Puritanism by Janice Knight. I am actually going to break this up into a series of posts (we’ll see how that goes per time constraints), this first one is primarily going to be a long quote (made up of several paragraphs) by Knight; wherein she describes her working thesis, which she proceeds to develop through the rest of the book. I will end this post with a few closing reflections, and questions prompted by Knight’s stated trajectory; here goes:
This book attempts to recover varieties of religious experience within Puritanism, then, by giving voice to an alternative community within what is usually read as the univocal orthodoxy of New England. My purpose is to retrace the social, intellectual, theological, and aesthetic signatures distinguishing two communities within the larger Puritan household—-groups I identify as the “Intellectual Fathers” and the “Spiritual Brethren.”
The first group, familiar to readers of The New England Mind, is composed of Perry Miller’s “orthodoxy” : Thomas Hooker, Thomas Shepard, Peter Bulkeley, John Winthrop, and most of the ministers of the Massachusetts Bay Colony; in England, William Perkins and William Ames were their authorities. These preachers identified power as God’s essential attribute and described his covenant with human beings as a conditional promise. They preached the necessity of human cooperation in preparing the heart for that promised redemption, and they insisted on the usefulness of Christian works as evidence of salvation. They were less interested in the international church than in their local congregation and their tribal faith. In general, they were pre- or a-millennial, in that they had little sense of participating in a prophetic errand into the wilderness and had no particular commitment to advancing the coming of Christ’s kingdom. Miller, among others, has lamented that these religionists developed structures of preparationism and an interlocking system of contractual covenants that diminished the mystical strain of piety he associated with Augustinianism.
The second body closely embodies that Augustinian strain. Originally centered at the Cambridge colleges and wielding great power in the Caroline court, this group was led by Richard Sibbes and John Preston in England; in America by John Cotton, John Davenport, and Henry Vane. Neither a sectarian variation of what we now call “orthodoxy” in New England nor a residual mode of an older piety, this party presented a vibrant alternative within the mainstream of Puritan religious culture. In a series of contests over political and social dominance in the first American decades, this group lost their claim to status as an “official” or “orthodox” religion in New England. Thereafter, whiggish histories (including Cotton Mather’s own) tell the winner’s version, demoting central figures of this group to the cultural sidelines by portraying their religious ideology as idiosyncratic and their marginalization as inevitable.
As this book will show, these preachers differed from their so-called orthodox counterparts in significant ways. More emotional and even mystical, their theology stressed divine benevolence over power. Emphasizing the love of God, they converted biblical metaphors of kingship into ones of kinship. They substituted a free testament or voluntary bequeathing of grace for the conditional covenant described by the other orthodoxy. Richard Sibbes speaks of this testament in affective terms as God’s legacy given “merely of love.”
Such a view argues against a doctrine of preparation by refusing human performance as a sign of salvation and pastoral discipline as a mode of social order. Recalling Augustine and anticipating Jonathan Edwards, these preachers construed sin not as a palpable evil but as an absence of good. They preached that grace was a new taste for divine things, that it “altereth the rellish” and is immediately infused into the passive saint by God alone. For the Spiritual Bretheren the transformation of the soul was neither incremental nor dependent on exercises of spiritual discipline. In this piety, there are no steps to the altar. Labor is the joyful return for grace already received. Love, not anxiety, is the hallmark of this piety . . . .(Janice Knight,”Orthodoxies in Massachusetts: Rereading American Puritanism,” 2-4)
You might wonder why any of this is even pertinent; good, let me give you some reasons:
1. Because Christians are people of the truth.
2. If we think of something one way, and it is another, then we are setting ourselves up to make judgements that are’nt truthful; and thus we fail to be people of the truth.
3. If we follow Perry Miller’s thesis [the one alluded to in the quote above] that Calvinist Puritanism was an univocal or monolithic or singular voice or reality (i.e. represented by the so called “Intellectual Fathers” or Federal Calvinists [what we know as Calvinism today]) then we will fail to recognize the fact that this is simply not true. We will lump all Puritan’s together, per Miller’s thesis, which many theologians and histiorographers have done (the one I think of is Mark Dever’s PhD on Richard Sibbes, he fails to identify the distinction that Knight substantiates — that there was another ‘orthodox’ party of Calvinists, the so called ‘Spiritual Brethren’ — and thus his whole dissertation broad-strokes Sibbes into the “Intellectual Fathers” camp (because according to Perry Miller’s thesis there was really only this one ‘camp’). The contemporary fall-out of this, is that Calvinists today think, wrongly, that they are the only true representatives of the Calvinist and ‘Reformed’ tradition; and thus if a person does not affirm their confessions, catechisms, and creeds then those folks are not truly ‘Calvinist’ nor ‘Reformed’ . . . this is just not truthful.
4. Maybe Calvinist orthodoxy, today, would take on a new light if it was able to distinguish between ‘their orthodoxy’ and the more prevelant orthodoxy that once was in Old England — represented by folks like Richard Sibbes [the 'Father'], John Preston, John Cotton, et al.
5. The interesting thing is that the Calvinism that ‘became’ prominent in ‘New-England’ was not the prominent one in ‘Old-England’; the ‘Spiritual Brethren’ [noted above] version was . . . now this neither speaks to the truthfulness or the falsity, per se, of either ‘orthodoxy’. Interestingly, the Calvinism, that we know today [Federal or Five-Point] became prominent, in part, in America, for sociological reasons; more than for ‘theological’ reasons.
6. If a person is under the assumption that the only ‘doctrines of Grace’ that are available are strictly captured by the “Intellectual Fathers” version of Calvinism they are mistaken [historically].
7. Calvinist ‘orthodoxy’ is multilayered, and the thesis presented above by Knight proves this to be the case (well she proves this throughout the rest of her book).
8. The primary source for determining which version, if any, of Calvinism is true (let’s not forget about the Scottish strain as well , of course is the scriptures. But unless one becomes aware of their own informing assumptions, the scriptures will not have a fair chance to re-shape said assumptions; since for this person their assumptions are self-same with scripture. Hopefully this exposure, provided by Knight and these posts, will provide the possibility for some Calvinists to obtain some ‘critical’ distance through which they might be able to approach the scriptures ‘afresh’.
9. Finally, and ultimately, ‘labels’ are not the banners we are fighting for; Christian truth is, and it is folks who realize that, for whom I write these posts!
There are more posts on this to come, maybe not in succession to this post (i.e. I might throw some other posts out there before I return to this series); but they are coming, rest assured.
I like this perspective on the cross from Torrance as he engages the idea of ‘two-ages’, and the cross as the center-point and beginning point of the next age (which we live out of); here is Torrance:
Here we have a very important element in the conception of atonement, that by his cross Jesus Christ has made a past — once for all he has put something completely behind him. On one side of the cross there is set the old Adam, the old aeon and all that belongs to them, and they will never be resurrected. ‘Old things are passed away,’ as St Paul put it, but on the other side of the cross, ‘all things are become new.’ The cross created a past, but only because it creates a new future, or a ‘better hope’ as the epistle to the Hebrews puts it. That is what Christ has done by his redemption: opened up eschatological vista for faith in which we are already planted in Christ, and with Christ already enter through the veil into God’s presence. It is because Christ ever lives as our redeemer, our surety, our atonement, that our life is set on a wholly and eternally new basis. As such Christ is the head of all things, the head of the new age, the messianic king, to whom the whole of the world to come belongs. That is an eternal kingdom that cannot be shaken, and that is the inheritance in Christ which is freely bestowed upon us. Through Christ the forerunner, the great podeh-goel, or mighty kinsman-redeemer, the author and finisher of our faith, we enter alreay into redemption, tasting already the powers of the age to come, already in anticipation of the great anapausis [refreshment], the final resting place that is the full and blessed enjoyment of the world to come. (T. F. Torrance, ed. Robert T. Walker, “Atonement: The Person and Work of Christ,” 95-6)
The following is a lengthy quote highlighting the differences between Federal [Classic] Calvinism and Free-Grace Calvinism [Affective Theology]. William Perkins represents the Federal “Vision” side, while Richard Sibbes the “Free-Grace” perspective. The quote is taken from Ron Frost’s unpublished PhD dissertation on Richard Sibbes and English Puritanism. He is providing conclusion to a discussion he had previously undertaken where he had articulated, in detail (with bibliographic support), the disparate “covenantal approaches” reflected by Perkins and Sibbes. The primary disjunction between the two is how they framed the Adam-motif (i.e. first and second Adam theology, see Rom. 5, etc.); and the different trajectories this placed their soteriological outlooks upon. Perkins forwarded the “Federal” model, which assumes continuity between the “law-keeping” of the first Adam and second Adam (i.e. think “Covenant of Works”); while Sibbes forwarded the “Marital Mystical” construct, which assumes some discontinuity between the “two Adams;” viz. while Christ truly represents us before the Father (juridical–i.e. forensic or legal), He also takes us as His spouse, which is presupposed by a real union with Him. The main difference, then, between Perkins and Sibbes, according to Frost, is that Perkins framed salvation purely as legal and “juridical”, which did not assume a “real union” with Christ; while Sibbes framed his view, not just as legal, but beyond that, as a Marriage framework, which is presupposed by a “real union” with Christ.
A Brief Glossary of Terms: **Privative Sin = the privation or absence of God’s righteousness [negative definition of sin] — **Positive Sin = Self love vs. God’s love.
Enough said on my part, lets hear from Frost:
Some final observations may be made about the positive and privative views of sin. The two approaches differ fundamentally on the reason for sin; while man is identified as responsible for sin in both views, he tends to be portrayed more as a pliable innocent overcome by the serpent’s deceit in the privative model. It is Adam presented as inadequate, not because he was unable to fulfill the law, but, because, in his mutability as a creature, he was vulnerable to moral change. This the serpent exploited while God was willfully away. In scholastic terms, the formal cause of sin was twofold, given the double causality associated with God’s sovereignty. God, as the primary agent for all things, determined the outcome by his withdrawal. In this he was arbitrary but just. The second agent, Adam, failed to apply the grace he had available and thus was culpable for his own fall, albeit as something of a victim. In both considerations the issue of grace is pivotal in its absence. For the privative model, as seen in both Thomistic and Reformed theology, this leads to a greater emphasis on the acquisition and application of grace in hypostatized or commodity-like terms, and a tendency toward Aristotelian moralism — the establishing of one’s righteousness through righteous actions based on grace. To the degree that grace becomes an impersonal quality, the greater the impression one has that something worthy of appreciation, if not merit, is being accomplished.
The doctrine of positive sin, on the other hand, rejects any tendency to see man as a victim; Adam is always the culprit in that he willfully replaced the Creator with the creature as the object of absolute devotion. It also recognizes human mutability as a fact which allows the fall, but rejects it as a meaningful explanation. The fall, in positive sin, remains an impenetrable mystery; Adam is not portrayed as deceived and God is not portrayed as withholding grace. In the positive model sin is always a competition: Adam seeks to usurp God’s role while God confounds Adam’s autonomy.
Thus, the most important difference between the two models is found in the way God is portrayed. In the privative view, as Aquinas and Perkins have it, he remains a supplier of grace — withholding what is needed for salvation except to the elect. He even remains parsimonious to the elect but, as their efforts prevail, is increasingly generous. In the positive view, on the other hand, he is an enemy until conversion which comes by the Spirit’s direct intervention. He invites the elect to see God as he really is: righteous, strong, and loving. Conversion, in fact, is a litmus for the two views: the privative model generally adopts a catechetical process which culminates in an affirmation of faith. The positive model, while recognizing that the Spirit uses prevenient stirrings, expects a more distinct Paul-light conversion which displays the moment in which selfish autonomy melts before God’s self disclosure. For the one, nature remains very much in view; for the other, God, once unveiled by grace, dominates the scene.
The importance of the affections for Sibbes and the nomists differed in profound ways. For Sibbes the affections were both the avenue by which sin entered the world and the avenue by which God, through the Spirit, restores the fallen soul. Slavery of the will was seen to be an enslavement by one’s own desires, something broken only by transforming vision of God as more desirable than anything human autonomy offers. Perkins and the nomists, on the other hand, saw the affections as a subordinate element of the will; they also provided a suitable theology for the prominent will by adopting the Thomist privation-enablement model of sin and grace.
Perkins and the nomists thus established human responsibility as the center-theme of salvation; the moral law became the locus of the soul in the process of sanctification. The belief that the covenant of grace is essentially a legal contract shaped all spirituality into a restorative stance: life is seen as an effort to regain and sustain Adam’s original obedience through the Spirit-enabled will. This generated a Christology which emphasized the juridical work of Christ to the point that, for pastoral ministry, the purpose of restored communion was easily reduced into the preaching of moralist endeavor.
Against this view, Sibbes, in line with Augustine, emphasized the place of Christ as much more than the source of justification, but primarily as one to be loved. The promise of the indwelling Spirit, whose ministry in Christ’s life is now allocated to the Christian, gives promise of a greater hope than the nomists offered: full and eternal intimacy of the Godhead through a true, although mystical, union with Christ. The feet of the soul are the affections and the affections are meant for communion with God. (Ron Frost, “Richard Sibbes’ Theology of Grace and the Division of English Reformed Theology,” [unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, 1996 University of London Kings College], 94-96)
I realize this was quite long, but if you made it to this point, great! I really appreciate Sibbes’ approach, and find it to be much more scriptural. Hopefully you noticed some of the discontinuity I alluded to earlier. For Sibbes in the second Adam (Christ), we go beyond what the first Adam had with God. For Sibbes, we are brought into the very life of God, through Christ; for Perkins we enter a quid pro quo contractual relationship with God . . . likened to the first Adam’s relationship with God (this is Covenant theologies’ Covenant of Works).
If you have any questions then please let me know, I will do my best to answer them. There are quite a few quotes I would like to share from Sibbes, provided by Frost which he used to support what his conclusion, above, summarizes so neatly–maybe another time. I wish I could just tell you to go buy Frost’s dissertation at Amazon, but unfortunately it was never published. Anyway I hope some of you find this helpful.
I am becoming increasingly concerned for folks who have been taken captive by both Arminian and Federal Calvinist frameworks (both the product of the same doctrine of God, thus similar outcomes when construing their “salvation theories”). Here is the basic problem, that is that both of these constructs frame salvation in a way that is very “subjective.” For the Fed. a person is left in limbo based upon “good works,” if they have them, then they are most likely ‘elect’. If the Arm. maintains a lifestyle of “good works,” then they can be sure that they are ’elect’ or ’saved’. Neither one of these frameworks grounds salvation in Christ, first. In other words, the Feds ground it in a decree, and the Arms root it in a decree; neither ground salvation in the “objective” life of God in an immediate personal way.
Pastorally this leaves serious saints dangling in a sea of subjectivity; these saints must look to themselves before they are able to look to Christ and call Him their “beloved.” This is a terrible blight and set of circumstances that has been foisted onto simple serious saints in the church; and it is a blight that this blog seeks to remedy. I don’t see this as a theological game, I see bad theology like this affecting real life people with real life consequences for folks daily spirituality. Usually, it seems to me, that many in ‘Reformed’ circles don’t see the reality and implications of their own ’systems’; it’s rather strange, because typically folks attracted to this kind of ‘intellectualist’ Christianity are just that, ‘intellectually predisposed’. But it’s as if they can’t think out the implications of their own positions, again, this is one of the reasons for this blog; I want to help them to do that.
