Entitlement is the Enemy of Worship
May the Lord help us to kill entitlement. May he remind us by his Gospel what it cost his son to save us. That it’s his breath that keeps us alive and his hands that hold the universe together. Help us Lord to kill this sense of entitlement in us. Help us so that we may serve you wholeheartedly. That we may give cheerfully. To serve others with a clean heart and approach you with thanksgiving in our hearts. Give us the posture of Jesus that approaches the cup with trust in you.
Many times we approach God like we do an employer. We come not broken and indebted but rather anxious and annoyed at him. Why? Well because we feel he’s failing us. We come to collect our paycheck for service rendered and it’s late or unavailable. We feel we’ve done our part better than most but when we need him he’s not there. Think about when you’ve needed that job so badly. Perhaps it was a business deal or a relationship you were pursuing. Think of when you were unwell or had an ailing loved one. Perhaps you were facing loss. The lie says you serve God, give your best and he’ll get you sorted. It’s more like being the employee of the year and your boss will look after you. He’ll surely not want to let you go. Except that’s not how it works.
Many who blame God and quit the faith do so because of this wrong expectation. We feel God owed us and yet he didn’t come through for us when we needed him. It’s a relationship bound to have a bitter ending. But it’s not really a relationship, to begin with. It’s more or less what exists between you and your shopkeeper. The goods are what bring you together. Without them, you’ve really no need to know each other. You’ve no relationship outside of this business. Such is what happens when we view God as our boss or shopkeeper. We expect a wage for service rendered and our relationship doesn’t go beyond what we get from him.
Privilege is the Posture of Scripture
With this entitlement, we feel wronged when God doesn’t come through for us. How could he not? We feel betrayed because we believe he owes us this much. But scripture puts across a different posture altogether. In place of entitlement, it gives us privilege. It says we owe him everything. We owe him our lives and for the Christian our second lives. It says ours is a relationship of grace. That what we have is not ours. What we do is not our work. And our very lives are not our own. In this regard, God doesn’t really owe us anything and yet he’s called us to ask everything from him.
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A Sad Day in the PCA: Disagreement, Nuance, Or…
Written by Benjamin T. Inman |
Tuesday, November 29, 2022
I disagree with his assertions about Overture 15. I leave argument aside. I disagree that concerns expressed in terms of the reform of the church deserve to be greeted as malicious. I leave argument aside. I disagree that mendacity has been the substance of the controversy around Johnson, et. al. I leave argument aside. I disagree that the PCA should construe coming advocacy around officers, race, and worship as a time to discern who is honest rather than how to honor Christ. I leave argument aside. I disagree with TE LeCroy’s admonition for the PCA. I do not think he is lying.Teaching Elder Tim LeCroy has published a heart-felt and scathing admonition for the PCA. He is grieved. He speaks of many liars, many unrepentant liars, particular organizations which have been undeterred by his rebukes. He warns the PCA– not just about deception, but real degeneracy.
I write to express my disagreement and to invite others to disagree. I think that TE LeCroy is mistaken. He will think that I am mistaken. We disagree. I do not accuse him of prevarication. If he follows my lead here, he may change his mind– then, we would no longer disagree. I would be shocked if he revealed himself to have lied. I don’t think he lied. I think he disagreed.
Disagreements are not surprising, and they are not un-Christian. No, they are not even un-Presbyterian. The scathing admonition might be faulted by some, as “intemperate.” Yes, that is un-Presbyterian, though the very word is perhaps one of our pets. Presbyterians may have single-handedly kept the word from obselescence. We don’t do intemperate speech, but we mention it when necessary. You know that we are serious about “intemperate.” We vote on it.
A Disagreement
“Memorial and Pastor Johnson tried to get people to listen to explanations of their ministries and their theology.” And, apparently, some people agreed with their representations; specifically he cites the Standing Judicial Commission. Others, LeCroy laments, stopped their ears and refused to listen. I do not have a particularly wide knowledge of the PCA, but I can substantially confirm the point, if not the opprobrium attached to it.
I have encountered numerous men over the last couple of months with a similar narrative:
In 2018 I started listening to Johnson, et. al., sympathetically, and then in 2022 the cumulative weight of my attention and patience brought me to a slow but definite position. I stopped listening to understand and interact; instead, I started listening to counter these developments in the church.
I think this sounds like the reasonable people who ended up, well, disagreeing with Johnson’s claims. At some point they stopped simply listening, but that is not to be faulted.
“That is not to say that there weren’t many people of good will with honest concerns and questions. Some of these folks pursued their concerns and questions in the right way: by engaging in honest dialog, following Presbyterian process, and seeking to understand and believe the best about Johnson and Memorial. Some of these folks were persuaded of the overall orthodoxy of Johnson while holding some valid concerns. Others, while not persuaded, continued to engage in an honest and charitable way.”
So, there was a disagreement. In the midst of honesty, dialog and process– some people concluded Johnson, et. al., are orthodox and others concluded they are heterodox. That is disagreement about a serious matter. Somehow, the ugly conclusion was still charitable and honest.
What is a charitable and honest (both) demeanor for concluding a minister is unwholesome? Might one disagree at this point? Must one consent silently to those who think otherwise? Might one express– temperately– a dour and unhappy and honest side of a dialog?
There is one matter about which there is no disagreement. Disagreement does not give license for lies. Disagreements are serious matters. Lies are wicked.
Not JUST A Disagreement
TE LeCroy has not given a heart-felt vindication for his side of the disagreement. Nor has he published a scathing analysis and criticism of the contrary view. This is not just a disagreement. He has assailed “a vast majority,” “many of them pastors and elders.” He has put his finger on names: “The Aquila Report, The Gospel Reformation Network, and Reformation 21, . . . Presbycast.”
More than differing with others, rather he has accused:
“. . . communicating an array of false information . . spreading false information . . . refused to acknowledge their error . . . continued to repeat the lies . . . doubled down on the lies . . . They stopped their ears against any just defense.” Disagreements are serious matters. Lies are wicked.
What is the difference between a disagreement and a lie? I disagree with TE LeCroy’s representation of Greg Johnson. His list of lies disseminated in this conflict is recognizable to me. I have heard all of those assertions– with nuances which are absent from LeCroy’s terse catalog:
” . . . that Johnson, doesn’t believe homosexual temptation is a sin, that he denies sanctification, that he says that homosexuals can never change, that he calls himself a gay Christian, that he identifies with his sin; that the PCA is ordaining unrepentant homosexuals, that the courts of the PCA have gone liberal and are ineffective to engage in true church discipline, that there are those in the PCA who are advocating for celibate partnerships.”
I have listened (and relistened) to a good bit from Greg Johnson and read his prose. My familiarity with Johnson’s voice makes these purported lies each quite plausible to me– if my familiarity with the dispute is allowed to remember nuances. I have heard these assertions before, though with nuances. I recognize them, although, here, they were unadorned with nuances. They were rather different, but they were not lies. I think, maybe, Mr. LeCroy and I differ on this. I disagree with him. I don’t think he is lying.
A Disagreement about Nuances
It seems Mr. LeCroy acknowledges that people may disagree about these matters:
“. . . valid concerns and frustrations . . . Yet, none of my frustrations or concerns amounted to the level of heretical belief or practice. They were at the level of things that myself and others believed were unwise and unhelpful, but not worthy of censure or excommunication.”
He suggests something of a spectrum: unwise > unhelpful > heretical practice > heretical belief > censure > excommunication.. Is the use of such a scale merely as mechanical as reading a thermometer? Might people charitably and honestly differ on this? Is the contrast really between agreeing or lying? Is that a nuance?
Mr. LeCroy specifies what he found predominantly unhelpful or unwise with Johnson, et. al:
”They . . . expected mature believers to read the nuance in the things they said and did. But understanding of nuance is not something one can expect these days. These days nuance is treated as the enemy of the truth.”
Johnson, et. al., required people to understand their nuances, but nuance attracts an adversarial attention. Nuance somehow short circuits truthfulness.
Is nuance the enemy of truth? Or does nuance fail to guarantee agreement? When people assert that a particular nuance is a distinction without a difference, or an instance of equivocation, or a fallacious appeal— are they expressing their disagreement or lying through their teeth? Disagreement is a serious matter. Lying is wicked. Nuance is not the distance between them.
A Demonization of Disagreement
Mr. LeCroy’s grief is fitting. A historic congregation has departed our communion, and it has done so with articulate recrimination. The truth of their assertions deserve sober consideration as the PCA moves forward. There is no duty to agree with such assertions, but there is a duty to take them seriously.
“I believe there will be a reckoning for all these lies. For those who have won this battle, this is not the way battles should be won in the Church of Jesus Christ.” Those are strong words. Again, only a fool would not weigh them and reweigh them. Remember how slow we can be when corrected.
I don’t have the impression that many people believe a battle was won. Partisans think that decisive conflict was avoided. The questions are not actually settled; the acrimony obviously lingers. People do lie, but people also disagree. Those who have avoided the battle must recognize that confusing prevarication and disagreement will most certainly reap more than a dust devil or two.
If deliberation is reduced to discernment of which speakers are lying– what confidence should you have in any vote? Unless you get your way. Consider the revulsion of getting your way and wondering if some in the majority were lying. Or does that matter if you’re getting your way? How horrible if a court of Christ’s church replaces disagreement and deliberation with distrust and dominant voices.
I imagine demons both agree and disagree dishonestly.
Mr. LeCroy goes on in his admonition. I disagree with his assertions about Overture 15. I leave argument aside. I disagree that concerns expressed in terms of the reform of the church deserve to be greeted as malicious. I leave argument aside. I disagree that mendacity has been the substance of the controversy around Johnson, et. al. I leave argument aside. I disagree that the PCA should construe coming advocacy around officers, race, and worship as a time to discern who is honest rather than how to honor Christ. I leave argument aside.
I disagree with TE LeCroy’s admonition for the PCA. I do not think he is lying.
I encourage others to do the same.
Benjamin T. Inman is a Minister in the Presbyterian Church in America and is member of Eastern Carolina Presbytery.
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Invisible Providence
The book of Esther is the only book in the Bible that does not include any direct reference to God at all.
Many have found this fact about the book of Esther troubling—it’s like reading an autobiography of Winston Churchill with no mention of Churchill. What are we to make of the fact that God is “missing in action” from Esther? Some thinkers have convincingly argued that the author’s intent is to deliver a message through the overt silence with regard to God. The omission is glaring—too glaring to understand it as a literary mistake; rather, the omission is the message. The author portrays God’s presence by not mentioning the presence of God at all.1 In other words, it’s the silence that proves His presence; the lack of theology is in fact the theology. In this way, the book of Esther teaches an important lesson for Christians today. In fact, rather than being a neglected book, Esther should be a significant part of our biblical diet.
The reason for this has to do with how our experience relates to biblical narratives. Our everyday lives coalesce with the Esther narrative more than with the Exodus, Joshua, or Kings narratives. Not many of us have witnessed miraculous deliverance (Ex. 7–12) or attesting signs (Ex. 4:1–9). We’ve never witnessed manna falling from the clouds (Ex. 16) or the walls of a fortress collapse upon God’s enemies (Josh. 6). We’ve never gazed on a vast body of water dividing at the seafloor (Ex. 14) or witnessed a three-year drought miraculously ended following a soaking-wet altar being consumed by fire (1 Kings 18:20–40). No, the ebb and flow of our lives is more akin to that of life in Persia during the time of Esther—daily activities, coincidences, mundane events, misfortunes, mistakes—normal, everyday life where the overt presence of God is all but undetectable. We, like the exiled Jews who remained after King Cyrus’ decree (Ezra 1:1–4), sojourn through life with the silent presence of God—entirely dependent on His written Word for guidance (see Neh. 7–10, 13).
Sovereignty and Providence
Among other things, the change in the means by which God exercises His sovereignty can be accounted for by the distinction between sovereignty and providence—an important distinction to maintain. Sovereignty describes the attribute of God wherein He is in authority over all things. Providence describes the way in which God works out His will in history. To put it simply, sovereignty refers to His attribute—something He is—while providence refers to His action—something He does. Providence, then, stems from His sovereignty; only the Sovereign can exercise providence. The Westminster Shorter Catechism identifies God’s works of providence as “His most holy, wise, and powerful preserving and governing all His creatures, and all their actions” (WSC 11). He governs all—His creatures and their actions. Nothing is outside His rule, and nothing happens without His governance.
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The Sun Is Blotted from the Sky
“Give me Adam’s complaining and Jacob’s obstinacy and Samson’s lust.” The angels of heaven seem to shout, “Stop! Surely he has reached his limit!” But again he speaks to say, “Burden me more! Add to me the weight of all the sins of the next two thousand years, add to me all the sins of all the ages that will follow. Load on the guilt of the blasphemer, the perjurer, the murderer, the adulterer, then the shame of the thief, the gossip, the hater, the idler.”
When of great physical strength have sometimes carried outrageously heavy burdens—six hundred pounds, seven hundred pounds, eight hundred. And even then they have said, “I still have not been fully tested. Put on some more weight! Load me up!” With confidence they have gripped the bar and with great straining and groaning they have lifted it clear of the ground. Yet in every case, they have eventually reached a point where they have had to cry out, “Stop! I have hit my limit. I cannot carry any more weight.”
I wonder if you have ever considered that the burden Christ carried for us was without limit. Have you considered the tremendous weight he bore on Calvary?
There was his own burden of hunger and thirst and bereavement, and the burden of the thousand insults and outrages that had been heaped upon him. On top of that was the burden of seeing the sorrows of his mother and friends as they watched him suffer and struggle for breath. On top of even that was the burden of witnessing the crimes of the soldiers who were putting him to death and the mocking of the criminals who hung beside him.
Even as we consider this our hearts begin to cry, “Stop! Surely he cannot bear anymore.”
Yet Christ says, “Add more. Add to me the sins of the people of Israel as they turned and rebelled and chased after false gods.”
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