When I was baptized in the Lutheran church, the minister asked my parents, “Do you renounce all the forces of evil, the devil, and all his empty promises?”
The devil and demonic activity are significant realities of life in this world, so it is not inappropriate that the Lutheran baptismal rite (and others) include an explicit rejection of the devil. But do we rightly understand the work of demons in this world?
In my experience we tend to give the devil either too much credit or too little attention.
When we yield to temptation, it’s far too easy to proffer a slightly more refined version of the child’s excuse (“the devil made me do it!”). Do you ever find yourself responding to sinful choices by asserting, “I’m under severe demonic attack!” when the reality is you simply haven’t been partaking deeply in the means of grace for some time? Or perhaps I am the only one who has experienced that?
We know Satan and his interns (i.e. demons) don’t often have to work very hard to get us to yield to temptation:
But each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire. Then desire when it has conceived gives birth to sin, and sin when it is fully grown brings forth death. (Jas. 1:14–15)
More likely, it wasn’t the devil who made you do anything; it was your own wicked desire. It’s not as though any of us are like Eve or Adam with wholly pure desires.
Three Goals of Demonic Activity
I do not at all mean to suggest the devil is not active in the world now that sin has entered into our race and corrupted our desires. The Belgic Confession (Article 12) summarizes ongoing demonic activity in this way:
The devils and evil spirits are so corrupt that they are enemies of God and of everything good. They lie in wait for the church and every member of it like thieves, with all their power, to destroy and spoil everything by their deceptions.
I will not be giving a thorough treatise on the origin and activity of Satan and his minions in this world. Nonetheless, as I see it there are three primary categories of satanic activity in Scripture.
A. Discredit the Church
The Scripture gives numerous instances in which Satan (whose name simply means adversary or accuser) brings charges against the Church of the Living God. For example Satan insists Job loves His Creator for mercenary reasons:
Then Satan answered the LORD and said, “Does Job fear God for no reason? Have you not put a hedge around him and his house and all that he has, on every side? You have blessed the work of his hands, and his possessions have increased in the land. But stretch out your hand and touch all that he has, and he will curse you to your face.” (Job 1:9–11)
Much later Satan returns to accuse the Church – represented by the High Priest in filthy garments – but God refuses to allow Satan even to make his accusations:
And the LORD said to Satan, “The LORD rebuke you, O Satan! The LORD who has chosen Jerusalem rebuke you! Is not this a brand plucked from the fire?” Now Joshua was standing before the angel, clothed with filthy garments. And the angel said to those who were standing before him, “Remove the filthy garments from him.” And to him he said, “Behold, I have taken your iniquity away from you, and I will clothe you with pure vestments.” (Zechariah 3:2–4)
In that instance, Satan had many scandalous and glaring charges to bring against the Church; he wouldn’t even have to make anything up. But God refuses even to give Satan a hearing.
It’s not that God doesn’t want to hear how bad His people are (the prophets brought ample indictments throughout the history of the Kingdom of God), but rather God will not tolerate anyone to speak ill of His bride:
If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? (Romans 8:31–35)
B. Destroy the Church
Time and again the agents of the devil attempt to wipe out God’s people in order to scuttle God’s promise: Cain and Abel, Ishmael and Isaac, Esau and Jacob, Pharaoh and Israel, Herod and Jesus.
At one point in the history of the Church, the line of promise seemed to rest entirely upon one little baby hidden in a linen closet as the wicked scion of Jezebel and Ahab, Queen Athaliah, conspired to murder all the line of David (cf. 2 Kings 11).

Fellowship among evangelicals will always be along a vast theological continuum of spiritual closeness whereas with devout Roman Catholics spiritual closeness is a binary consideration. There is none. Let us not confuse sanctification and fellowship within the body with evangelizing those outside the evangelical church. Our personal spiritual affinity toward other professing Christians should be walled in by their objective ecclesiastical standing, which is based upon baptism and a credible profession of faith before the elders of a true church that preaches the biblical gospel.  In a word, how can evangelicals enjoy spiritual closeness with Roman Catholics when they are not to be admitted to the Lord’s table?

I will interact with portions of this article by Professor Carl Trueman.
A recovery of classical theology also raises an interesting ecumenical question. Why do Protestants, especially those of an evangelical stripe, typically prioritize the doctrine of salvation over the doctrine of God? If an evangelical rejects simplicity or impassibility or eternal generation, he is typically free to do so. But why should those properly committed to the creeds and confessions consider that person closer spiritually to them than those who affirm classical theism but share a different understanding of justification?
I am committed to the catholic creeds and Reformed confessions. Maybe that is why I find it interesting that we are being asked to consider why those committed to the creeds and confessions (like myself) can enjoy more spiritual closeness with those who reject certain tenets of classical theism (like certain evangelicals) than with others who have “a different understanding of justification” (like devout Roman Catholics). In other words, in the context of spiritual closeness we are asked to compare (a) an evangelical’s rejection of “simplicity or impassibility or eternal generation” to, what is framed as, (b) a mere “different understanding of justification”. (Let that sink in.)
Many things jump out at me. First, should we infer that a “different understanding of justification” does not entail a rejection of the true and Reformed doctrine of justification? Such an inference seems unwarranted. After all, how much can we differ on the Reformed doctrine of justification and still hold to the gospel? (Given the later comparative reference to Roman Catholic Dominicans, who are to be considered orthodox in their doctrine of God, it is apparent that what is being called a “different understanding of justification” does not cash out as any mere theological difference but an outright repudiation of the gospel of Jesus Christ.)
Would it not be fairer to evaluate the foundational basis for spiritual fellowship between a confessional Reformed believer (like myself) with either of these two different classes of people: (1) those who cannot accept and, therefore, reject the philosophical underpinnings and subsequent implications of certain constructs of, for instance, divine simplicity (e.g., Alvin Plantinga), and (2) those who reject the simplicity of the gospel as it relates to a Reformed doctrine of justification (e.g., any of the popes since the sixteenth century)?
Before reading on, it might be helpful to internalize that the idea that we should not prioritize the doctrine of justification over the doctrine of God can imply that we should not prioritize God’s grace over the God of grace. Although a worthy reflection in its own right, one can easily miss the point if it’s abstracted from the present context. We aren’t to be prioritizing complementary doctrines in the abstract but rather discerning which doctrines are absolutely essential to understand and embrace for there to be the possibility of “spiritual closeness” in the household of faith.
Back to Basics:
Although the doctrines of simplicity, impassibility and eternal generation are glorious truths to be cherished and defended, we may not deny that the basis for genuine spiritual closeness (i.e., true fellowship in the Lord) is union with Christ by the Holy Spirit and agreement over gospel truth. Accordingly, it is no small matter that entrance into that spiritual oneness is gospel wrought conversion, which eludes official Roman Catholic doctrine according to confessional Protestant standards. In a word, one cannot possibly enjoy spiritual closeness with a Roman Catholic who is true to Roman Catholicism. Therefore, no matter how pristine a Roman Catholic’s theology proper is, there’s no possibility of Christian fellowship for those who truly reject the Reformed doctrine of justification.
Simplicity Isn’t as Simple as the Gospel;
Regarding the doctrine of divine simplicity (DDS), some of its loudest proponents have identified and acknowledged different implicit difficulties having to do with (a) God’s absolute freedom as it relates to the necessity of the divine decree, (b) personal properties of divine persons as they relate to a non-composite being, and (c) the intelligibility of divine attributes being one and the same attribute due to the transitive nature of the law of identity (just to name a few conundrums). Others have hedged on certain tenets of DDS while claiming to affirm the doctrine. And even others simply have hand-waved while labeling evangelicals who disagree with them as dangerous if not heretical. (To varying degrees we can cite similar observations about eternal generation and impassibility.)
Surely divine simplicity, impassibility and eternal generation do not just jump off the pages of Scripture. That is not to say these doctrines aren’t imbedded in Scripture and cannot be inferred by careful study. But that seems to miss the point about Christian fellowship. To understand the gospel and be genuinely converted one needn’t understand how God, not being made up of parts, can be three distinct persons yet one divine being. One can be genuinely converted and enjoy spiritual closeness with other regenerate believers without having considered, let alone reconciled (a) orthodox conceptual distinctions about God that are understood analogically with (b) how God cannot be a composite being (either logically, metaphysically, or physically). Moreover, if God is creator and redeemer, then how might we address challenges relating to God taking on accidental properties? And if God is “most free” yet the divine will is timelessly eternal, then how could God have created another world in place of this one? Or is the logical trajectory of DDS that God has actualized all possible worlds? How might the average born again believer in the pew, with whom I can enjoy spiritual closeness in Christ over the forgiveness of sins, answer the question of whether God has unactualized potential?
Of course there’s a difference between not having an opinion on x and having a reasoned rejection of x. However, if one does not believe that a sophisticatedly developed conscious-rejection of these philosophical constructs is sufficient to undermine a credible profession of faith, then why not consider those who mistakenly reject these loftier doctrines, while affirming the evangelical gospel, as standing more solidly on fellowship ground than all the Thomists within Rome who reject the simplicity of the gospel? Yet if it is believed salvation hinges in part upon not rejecting simplicity, impassibility or eternal generation, then we would not have elevated Roman Catholics who decidedly oppose sola fide above such professing Protestants. We would merely have placed them on equal ground! Neither sort would be spiritually closer than the other to a true believer.
Although I have not been satisfied with some of the representations I’ve heard from some of the most vocal defenders of DDS, I do believe there are adequate answers to such questions even though some strident proponents of DDS seem to struggle with arguments levied by the ablest objectors to DDS. But the point isn’t whether divine simplicity, impassability or the eternal generation of the Son are glorious truths over which we can fellowship with other true believers. (Indeed we can!) Rather, the point is merely this. I am much “closer spiritually” with (a) an evangelical who sadly rejects DDS because he has not found the arguments he has read particularly persuasive, than with (b) a Thomist who believes in the transubstantiation of the mass and that his works of piety can assist in meriting his justification. (In this example, the evangelical needs further spiritual understanding, whereas the Thomist is in need of spiritual conversion.)
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Written by Aaron M. Renn |
Tuesday, January 25, 2022
Evangelicalism has successfully adapted to new media, with various groups creating huge online and social media followings. It has adapted to the rise and fall of evangelistic strategies such as revivals and street preaching. Christians may indeed be a declining and unpopular moral minority, but that is no reason to assume that evangelicalism’s day is done. 

American evangelicalism is deeply divided. Some evangelicals have embraced the secular turn toward social justice activism, particularly around race and immigration, accusing others of failing to reckon with the church’s racist past. Others charge evangelical elites with going “woke” and having failed their flocks. Some elites are denounced for abandoning historic Christian teachings on sexuality. Others face claims of hypocrisy for supporting the serial adulterer Donald Trump. Old alliances are dissolving. Former Southern Baptist agency head Russell Moore has left his denomination. Political pundit David French has become a fearsome critic of ­many religious conservatives who would once have been his allies. Baptist professor Owen Strachan left an establishment seminary to take a leadership position in a startup one. Some people are deconstructing their faith and leaving evangelicalism, or even Christianity, behind. Where once there was a culture war between Christianity and secular society, today there is a culture war within evangelicalism itself.
These divisions do not only represent theological differences. They also result from particular strategies of public engagement that developed over the last few decades, as the standing of Christianity has gradually eroded.
Within the story of American secularization, there have been three distinct stages:

Positive World (Pre-1994): Society at large retains a mostly positive view of Christianity. To be known as a good, churchgoing man remains part of being an upstanding citizen. Publicly being a Christian is a status-enhancer. Christian moral norms are the basic moral norms of society and violating them can bring negative consequences.
Neutral World (1994–2014): Society takes a neutral stance toward Christianity. Christianity no longer has privileged status but is not disfavored. Being publicly known as a Christian has neither a positive nor a negative impact on one’s social status. Christianity is a valid option within a pluralistic public square. Christian moral norms retain some residual effect.
Negative World (2014–Present): Society has come to have a negative view of Christianity. Being known as a Christian is a social negative, particularly in the elite domains of ­society. Christian morality is expressly repudiated and seen as a threat to the public good and the new public moral order. Subscribing to Christian moral views or violating the secular moral order brings negative consequences.

The dating of these transitions is, of necessity, impressionistic. The transition from neutral to negative is dated 2014 to place it just before the Supreme Court’s Obergefell decision, which institutionalized Christianity’s new low status. The transition from positive to neutral is less precise, though the collapse of the Soviet Union and end of the Cold War in 1989 was clearly a point of major change. I selected 1994 for two key reasons. It represents the high-water mark of early 1990s populism, with the Republican takeover of the U.S. House of Representatives (and, arguably, the peak of evangelical influence within U.S. conservatism). And it was the year Rudolph Giuliani became mayor of New York City, signaling the urban resurgence that would have a significant impact on evangelicalism.
For the most part, evangelicals responded to the positive and neutral worlds with identifiable ministry strategies. In the positive world, these strategies were the culture war and seeker sensitivity. In the neutral world, the strategy was cultural engagement.
The culture war strategy, also known as the “­religious right,” is the best-known movement of the positive-world era. The very name of its leading organization, Moral Majority, speaks to a world in which it was at least plausible to claim that Christians still represented the majority of the country. The religious right arose during the so-called New Right movement in the 1970s, in part as a response to the sexual revolution and the moral deterioration of the country.
Up to and through the 1970s, evangelicals and fundamentalists had voted predominantly for the Democratic party. Jimmy Carter, a former Southern Baptist Sunday school teacher, was the first evangelical president. He won the Southern Baptist vote, 56 to 43 percent. Newsweek magazine proclaimed 1976, the year of his election, the “Year of the Evangelical.” As late as 1983, sociologist James Davison ­Hunter found that a plurality of evangelicals continued to identify as Democrats. But under the leadership of people like Jerry Falwell, this group realigned as Republican during the 1980s and became the religious right. Evangelicals remain one of the Republican party’s most loyal voting blocs, with 80 percent supporting Donald Trump in 2016.
The religious right culture warriors took a highly combative stance toward the emerging secular culture. By and large, the people we associate with the religious right today were those far away from the citadels of culture. Many were in backwater locations. They tended to use their own platforms, such as direct mail and paid-for UHF television shows. They were initially funded mostly by donations from the flock, a fact that imparted an attention-grabbing, marketing-driven style. Later, groups such as the Christian Coalition began to raise money from bigger donors, having become more explicitly aligned with the GOP.
Major culture war figures include Jerry ­Falwell of Moral Majority (Lynchburg, Virginia), Pat ­Robertson of the Christian Broadcasting ­Network (Virginia Beach), James Dobson of Focus on the Family (Colorado Springs), Ralph Reed of the Christian Coalition (Atlanta), and televangelists Jimmy Swaggart (Baton Rouge) and Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker (Portsmouth, Virginia).
A second strategy of the positive-world movement was seeker sensitivity, likewise pioneered in the 1970s at suburban ­megachurches such as Bill Hybels’s Willow Creek (Barrington, IL) and Rick Warren’s Saddleback Church (Orange County). This strategy was in a sense a prototype of the neutral-world movement to come. But the very term “seeker sensitive” shows that it was predicated on an underlying friendliness to Christianity; it’s a model that assumes that large numbers of people are actively seeking. Bill Hybels walked door to door in suburban Chicago, surveying the unchurched about why they didn’t attend. By designing a church that appealed to them stylistically, he was able to get large numbers to come through the doors.
Seeker-sensitive churches downplayed or eliminated denominational affiliations, distinctives, and traditions. They adopted informal liturgies and contemporary music. Seeker sensitivity operated in a therapeutic register, sometimes explicitly—the Christian psychologist Henry Cloud has become a familiar speaker at Willow Creek. They were approachable and non-threatening. Today, there are many large suburban megachurches of this general type in the United States, which to some extent represent the evangelical mainstream.
In the neutral world, by contrast, the characteristic evangelical strategy was cultural engagement. The neutral-world cultural engagers were in many ways the opposite of the culture warriors: Rather than fighting against the culture, they were explicitly positive toward it. They did not denounce secular culture, but confidently engaged that culture on its own terms in a pluralistic public square. They believed that Christianity could still be articulated in a compelling way and had something to offer in that environment. In this quest they wanted to be present in the secular elite media and forums, not just on Christian media or their own platforms.
The leading lights of the cultural engagement strategy were much more urban, frequently based in major global cities or college towns. The neutral world emerged concurrently with the resurgence of America’s urban centers under the leadership of people like Giuliani. The flow of college-­educated Christians into these urban centers created a different kind of evangelical social base, one shaped by urban cultural sensibilities rather than rural or suburban ones. These evangelicals tended to downplay flashpoint social issues such as abortion or ­homosexuality. Instead, they emphasized the gospel, often in a therapeutic register, and ­priorities like helping the poor and select forms of social activism. They were also much less political than the positive-world Christians—though this distinction broke down in 2016, when many in this group vociferously opposed Donald Tru­mp. In essence, the cultural-engagement strategy is an evangelicalism that takes its cues from the secular elite consensus. Sometimes they have attracted secular elites or celebrities to their churches.
The political manifestation of the cultural-­engagement approach is seen in politicians like George W. Bush, who touted “compassionate conservatism” and an evangelicalism less threatening to secular society. The vitriol directed at Bush by the left should not obscure the differences in Bush’s own approach. For example, less than a week after 9/11, he made the first-ever presidential visit to a mosque to reassure Muslims that he did not blame them or their religion for that attack. He opposed gay marriage but supported civil unions and pointedly said he would not engage in anti-­gay rhetoric. It is important to stress, however, that pastors and other cultural-engagement leaders within the evangelical religious world were typically studiously apolitical. They consciously did not want to be like the religious right.
Most of the urban church world and many parachurch organizations embraced the cultural engagement strategy, and some suburban megachurches have shifted in that direction. Major figures and groups include Tim Keller of Redeemer ­Presbyterian Church (New York City), Hillsong Church (New York City, Los Angeles, and other global cities), ­Christianity Today magazine (suburban Chicago), Veritas Forum (Boston), Sen. Ben Sasse (Washington, D.C.), contemporary artist Makoto Fujimura (New York City), and author Andy Crouch (Philadelphia).
These different movements represented different responses to the three worlds. But they also reflected other theological, sociological, and cultural differences among the various camps. The culture warriors had a fundamentalist sensibility, and often came from that tradition. Jerry Falwell and Francis Schaeffer both had fundamentalist backgrounds, for example. The seeker sensitives and cultural engagers had a more evangelical sensibility.
Fundamentalism prioritized doctrinal purity and was frequently separatist and hostile to outsiders or those who would compromise on biblical fidelity. Evangelicalism developed, beginning in the 1940s, as an attempt to create a kinder, gentler fundamentalism that could reach the mainstream. Its priorities have been more missional than doctrinal. If we view it in terms of sensibilities, we will find that this split—between doctrinal or confessional purity and missional focus or revivalism—has manifested itself persistently throughout American religious history.
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