While Lactantius appealed to Constantine to honour the weak, deal with evil patiently, and promote religious liberty, Constantine was emphatic that he would be a Christian “on his own terms” (p.260). Constantine denounced paganism and embarked on a Christianisation of the law with heavy penalties on what he saw to be immoral practices. He saw himself duty-bound to use the state’s power and wealth to ensure concord, and according to Kreider, while before Constantine “growth was a mystery, the product of God’s invisible power”, after Constantine there was a shift from “mystery to method” (p.267).

Part 1 of 2 of Review of Alan Kreider, The Patient Ferment of the Early Church, Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2016
This work of Alan Kreider’s has been without doubt one of the most important books I have read. While we may not align with Kreider theologically in several areas (for example, he is a pacifist and an anabaptist Mennonite) what he has left with this book is something that I think every pastor should read.
In this first part of a two-part review, I will record the highlights, while in the second part, I will offer some reservations and reflections.
Readibility
Although Kreider’s work is quite readable, I would not rate it is as highly accessible for the average reader. He writes like an academic! Nevertheless, it is well worth persevering with, to grasp his message.
Research
Kreider makes some bold assertions that requires significant level of evidence if they are to be held credible. Thankfully, he does provide this. Kreider’s work is well-researched, not surprising as he is a first-rate historian, being Harvard-trained, with teaching appointments that include Oxford.
Highlights
Instead of reviewing each part of the book, I thought it worthwhile to highlight the following points Kreider makes:

The early church was not at all intentional about its “missional strategy” in the way we modern churches are. If we can say the early church had any “strategy” it was their focus on the need for patience (e.g. patience in suffering, patience in doing good).

For example, Justin writing in the second century wrote, “by our patience and meekness [Christians will] draw all men from shame and evil desires” (p.16). This theme can be detected as the dominant theme in the writings of the church fathers such as Justin, Clement, Origen, Tertullian, Cyprian, Lactantius.

The early church’s “strategy of patience” had its outworking in many ways – including distinctive business ethics, sexual ethics, ethics around the treatment of women and children, care for the poor, refrain from taking part in violence, refrain from compelling, and prayer having a central place in the life of the community (pp.93-130).

Perhaps the key outworking of this “strategy of patience” was the focus on spiritual formation of new members via catechesis (which we might call a learning program). The early church recognised that the integrity of the church depended on the quality of its members. Christians that spoke like Christians but acted like pagans would soon mean that the church would no longer be Christian (p.176).

Catechumens (those trained by catechists in this program of catechesis) were to embody what he calls a “habitus” of a patient Christian witness.
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Written by R.C. Sproul |
Monday, September 20, 2021
John Calvin said it is the task of the church to make the invisible kingdom visible. We do that by living in such a way that we bear witness to the reality of the kingship of Christ in our jobs, our families, our schools, and even our checkbooks, because God in Christ is King over every one of these spheres of life.

Suppose someone asked you that question: What is the kingdom of God? How would you respond? The easy answer would be to note that a kingdom is that territory over which a king reigns. Since we understand that God is the Creator of all things, the extent of His realm must be the whole world. Manifestly, then, the kingdom of God is wherever God reigns, and since He reigns everywhere, the kingdom of God is everywhere.
But I think my pastor was getting at something else. Certainly the New Testament gets at something else. We see this when John the Baptist comes out of the wilderness with his urgent announcement, “Repent, for the kingdom of God is at hand.” We see it again when Jesus appears on the scene with the same pronouncement. If the kingdom of God consists of all of the universe over which God reigns, why would anyone announce that the kingdom of God was near or about to come to pass. Obviously, John the Baptist and Jesus meant something more about this concept of the kingdom of God.
At the heart of this theme is the idea of God’s messianic kingdom. It is a kingdom that will be ruled by God’s appointed Messiah, who will be not just the Redeemer of His people, but their King. So when John speaks of the radical nearness of this breakthrough, the intrusion of the kingdom of God, he’s speaking of this kingdom of the Messiah.
At the end of Jesus’ life, just as He was about to depart from this earth, His disciples had the opportunity to ask Him one last question. They asked, “Lord, will You at this time restore the kingdom to Israel?” (Acts 1:6b). I can easily imagine that Jesus might have been somewhat frustrated by this question. I would have expected Him to say, “How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not going to restore the kingdom to Israel?” But that’s not what He said; He gave a patient and gentle answer. He said: “It is not for you to know times or seasons which the Father has put in His own authority. But you shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you shall be witnesses to Me in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth” (Acts 1:7–8). What did He mean? What was He getting at?
When Jesus told Pilate, “My kingdom is not of this world,” was He indicating that His kingdom was something spiritual that takes place in our hearts or was He speaking of something else? The whole Old Testament called attention not to a kingdom that would simply appear in people’s hearts, but to a kingdom that would break through into this world, a kingdom that would be ruled by God’s anointed Messiah. For this reason, during His earthly ministry, Jesus made comments such as, “If I cast out demons with the finger of God, surely the kingdom of God has come upon you” (Luke 11:20). Similarly, when Jesus sent out seventy disciples on a preaching mission, He instructed them to tell impenitent cities that “The kingdom of God has come near you” (Luke 10:11b). How could the kingdom be upon the people or near them? The kingdom of God was near to them because the King of the kingdom was there. When He came, Jesus inaugurated God’s kingdom. He didn’t consummate it, but He started it. And when He ascended into heaven, He went there for His coronation, for His investiture as the King of kings and Lord of lords.
So Jesus’ kingship is not something that remains in the future. Christ is King right this minute. He is in the seat of the highest cosmic authority. All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to God’s anointed Son (Matt. 28:18).
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Through Christ and the outpoured Spirit, we experience a fullness that Abraham rejoiced to see only from afar. The word hope is often used flippantly, carrying little more weight than a flimsy wish. But biblical hope is firm and sturdy. Biblical hope is squarely centered on the character of God, the truth of His Word, His great and very precious promises, and above all, Christ Himself, the hope of glory.

Texts such as Romans 11 and Galatians 6:16 indicate that Jesus’ disciples are, in fact, the true Israel of God, the people whom He has chosen to bring blessing on the world and to dwell with forever. Knowing that we are the Israel of God encourages us to cling to God for blessing just as our forefather Jacob did (Gen. 32:22–32). Let us consider the significance and great hope that disciples have as the true Israel of God.

“Are you the teacher of Israel?” (John 3:10). Such was the nature of the question posed by our Lord Jesus to Nicodemus. Yet it was much more than a simple inquiry. The rhetorical effect should have awakened the Pharisee to seriously ponder how he could instruct God’s people if he himself did not understand the things above. Even more profoundly, how could he teach Israel if he did not know of the true Israel?
Some of Nicodemus’ responses seem quite reasonable. After all, how can a man be born when he is old? It is the dawning of the new covenant that sublimely answers this question. But we do well to remember that the new covenant answers that question out of the resources of the old covenant. Christ compels Nicodemus to see that he must possess the very thing that the ancient sacrament always called for: a circumcised heart. Who is the true Jew but he who is one inwardly? And now, standing before his very eyes, is the sum and substance of all the promises of old—the Messiah himself, the true Israel.

From the very outset, the Gospels unveil for us the many ways that the Christ is “the Son of David, the Son of Abraham” (Matt. 1:1). We are meant to see that He would succeed where Israel had failed.

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