Written by James R. Wood |
Tuesday, February 27, 2024
For Augustine, it is consenting to sin that is corrupting. What does this mean? Well, we could think of it in basic terms through the contemporary language of “complicity.” Augustine uses the example of criminals, and we could again think of thieves. Even if we do not walk into the bank and hold up the tellers ourselves, but merely drive the getaway car or house the thieves while they are hiding from the police, we are complicit in the crime.

Can Christians eat and drink with sinners? Of course. And, to follow in the footsteps of our Lord and Savior, we must. However, there are certain types of association that are sinful—or at least dangerously unwise—regardless of private intention. We have to consider the public signification of certain types of association.
This has come up in recent weeks as a result of the drama surrounding the public statements from Alistair Begg about attending an LGBTQ “wedding” service. I don’t think Rev. Begg should be “canceled” for these comments, whatever that might mean. Nor do I think he is a wolf. But I do think he is wrong and has offered counsel that warrants pushback.
An angle one could take to expose the folly here is to press the argument into the ridiculous, thereby exposing certain double standards on this set of issues—exceptions to general principles about public associations in events that center on sinful activities. Doug Wilson has made such a case in a recent piece. Folks who would find no issue with attending an LGBTQ wedding would almost certainly recoil at the prospect of attending a white nationalist rally, the launch of a pornographic magazine, etc—even if these were organized by loved ones. One could even imagine a hypothetical in which a family member moves internationally to wed a child bride and invites loved ones to celebrate the occasion. We all know that something is communicated by our attendance at such events. Kevin DeYoung has also made similarly compelling arguments.
To probe this a bit further, I would like to turn to a surprising source: Augustine. Turning to Augustine for wisdom is rarely a surprise; but what is most interesting is that some of his most insightful comments on such corrupting associations come in his writings against the Donatists. Why this is noteworthy is that it was the Donatists who thought that sin was contagious and were sloppy in their thinking about how associations with sinners corrupted Christians. The Donatists were what we could anachronistically and crudely describe as “fundamentalist” (which is what Begg accused his critics of being) separatists. They thought that to maintain their purity they had to separate from sinners.
Augustine vehemently opposed the Donatists for their mistaken views of grace, lack of love, and abandonment of unity. It is not the presence of sinners that contaminates the Christian. Though sin is congenital, it is not contagious. Thus, Christians neither can nor should entirely avoid sinners in the ecclesial or broader social and civic spheres. These themes are all over Augustine’s numerous writings against the Donatists, and they emerge again in the text for our discussion: Augustine’s Answer to the Letter of Parmenian.[1]
Discussing Donatist misunderstandings of Paul’s instructions in 1 Corinthians 5 and 2 Corinthians 6, Augustine explains that Christians should not rashly cut themselves off from fellowship with other Christians (II.18,37) and is emphatic that Christians should eat with unbelievers (III.2,12). Augustine anticipates Donatist objections that might appeal to Ephesians 5:11-12 (“Have no fellowship with the fruitless works of darkness”), or 1 Timothy 5:22 (“Have no fellowship with others’ sins. Keep yourself pure”). So, Donatists might object, Christians should have no association with sinners. But Augustine believes this is incorrect (II.20,39).
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Written by James R. Wood |
Monday, December 4, 2023
Augustine never promoted a Jewish state, but rather expounded the theological significance of Jewish scattering. However, one wonders if he might support such a state as a way to protect Jewish lives and practice in light of the antisemitic hostility that we have seen simmer over the centuries, erupt in Western nations in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, and remain an ever-present threat in relation to Islamic extremists who now have the sympathy also of Westerners. This is speculative, but one can imagine it as a post-Holocaust extension of Augustine’s basic teachings on the Jews. And to extend his logic in this way does not require one to embrace dispensational Zionism.

October 7th forced the West to face up to some grim realities. One is that we remain in history, and our intractable political conflicts have not been resolved by liberal nation-building. Another is that antisemitism remains with us and afflicts a variety of tribes, both political and ethnic, both at home and abroad. This animosity is evident not only in Hamas and Hamas-friendly Palestinians, but also progressives in Western nations who have come to classify contemporary Jews and the state of Israel as privileged oppressors. At the other end of the horseshoe, there is also an emergent strain on the new Christian right that winks at Jew-hatred while it seeks to curb what it sees as Western over-commitment to the modern state of Israel. Much of this is explained as a correction of sloppy post-War geopolitical thinking, which linked up with the dispensational theology that led many Western Christians to uncritically support Israel, and Zionist Jewish leaders in Western nations. This has led to a supersessionist backlash that seems to sanction hardened attitudes toward Jewish suffering in Israel and hostility toward Jews in the West.
Some form of what has come to be called “supersessionism” is the majority report in church history. Supersessionism broadly posits that Israel has been replaced by the Christian church, and that Jews who do not believe in Christ are no longer to be identified with God’s chosen people. According to this traditional belief, Jews lost the rights to the covenant promises in their rejection of Jesus. Dispensationalism–a more novel theology, and one not uninfluenced by the astonishing founding of the state of Israel in 1948–is adamantly opposed to this reading, presenting Israel and the church as two distinct peoples of God, with two distinct plans of salvation. Dispensational theologians strongly emphasize the irrevocability of the promises to national Israel; this leads many to view the modern state of Israel through a prophetic lens. Dispensationalists and those unknowingly influenced by this theology tend to be those most sensitive to the plight of Jews in our day, while supersessionist theology has been weaponized in service of hostility toward Jews, and those who adopt the supersessionist framing tend to struggle to articulate anything positive about the perdurance of Judaism and contemporary Jews. This is exacerbated by the very common pattern of people who have grown up in dispensationalist circles finding more classical Protestant theology, stumbling upon Luther’s floridly antisemitic comments, and as a result reacting against their enthusiastically Zionist upbringing (and parents) by embracing a maximally antisemitic read of the Reformers.
This essay will investigate how Augustine’s theology relates to all of this. What I will argue is that Augustine’s “witness doctrine,” while it certainly cannot be categorized as a species of dispensationalism, does not fit neatly in most expressions of supersessionism either. Augustine, while presenting the Christian church as continuous with Israel and as the fulfillment of Old Testament promises, and while being fervent about the need for Jews to repent and believe in Christ, also provides a positive account of Judaism. Working from within the contra Iudaeos stream of patristic rhetoric and theology, Augustine added a somewhat revolutionary contribution.
Background: Contra Iudaeos
Early in the church’s history, a form of supersessionism developed that viewed the Jews as rejected by God for having rejected Christ. Much of this tradition employed an allegorical reading of Esau and Jacob as prefiguring Israel and the church, inspired by similar interpretive moves in Paul’s writings. Already by the second century, theologians and Christian apologists began to present opposition to the gospel as a permanent feature of Jewish identity and Jewish-Christian relations.[1] Such Christians devised arguments to explain why Jews were seemingly incapable of perceiving that Christians had the true understanding of the Hebrew Scriptures. As Paula Fredriksen explains in her important work on Augustine and the Jews, the rhetorical force of these arguments was exacerbated by the failed Jewish revolt led by Bar Kokhba in AD 132-135. “Gentile Christians,” explains Fredriksen, “viewed the earlier, first-century destruction of the Temple through the prism of this bloody second-century defeat.”[2] Christians linked these two failed Jewish revolts (i.e., AD 66-70 and AD 132-135) with the New Testament predictions of the destruction of the Temple and the latter’s relation to Jesus’ death. This all served to confirm the idea that the Jews killed Jesus, and thereby surrendered their special covenantal status. Christian thinkers increasingly developed the “trail of blood” motif that associated the Jews with Cain, arguing that just as the Jews killed the prophets, so they killed Christ, and thus they remain ever hostile to Christians.[3] Interestingly, the term “Jewish” was employed in various theological treatises, sermons, and debates to apply to any heresy or enemy of Christian truth. Christian theology was tempted at various points to disparage the Old Testament and “fleshly” religion. By the time of the late fourth century, rhetoric contra Iudaeos had come into its own.[4]
Augustine’s thought is somewhat unique in this context. His conception of the Jews and Judaism is marked by two poles: one more comfortably in line with the contra Iudaeos tradition, seen in his presentation of non-Christian Jews as judged and humiliated,[5] and the other a revolution within that rhetorical tradition exhibited in his doctrine of positive Jewish witness.[6] For the purposes of this essay, we will simply look at the key aspects of his witness doctrine and his reasons for espousing it. There is a strange ambivalence in this doctrine for Augustine, for it simultaneously conceives of the Jews as judged and protected, as humiliated and preserved.[7] But this ambivalent Augustinian doctrine might offer something to our contemporary debates.
Early Developments in Augustine’s Doctrine
To introduce Augustine’s “witness doctrine,” I will provide an overview of the main images employed by Augustine at each stage in his development of this theme, and then conclude with a summary of the key tenets of his mature thought on the topic.
Augustine begins to approach the witness doctrine in his early battles against the Manichees, particularly Faustus,[8] and his debates with Jerome. Here a key image is flesh. Faustus appropriated the anti-Jewish rhetoric of the day, but directed it at the catholic church. The Manichees espoused an extreme Law-Gospel contrast and pitted the Old Testament and “fleshly” faith against true “spirituality,” the latter being most purely expressed by the Manichees. Much of the early contra Iudaeos tradition was based on a derogatory dichotomy of flesh vs. spirit; true Christianity was “spiritual” and heresy was “carnal,” rhetorically rendered as “Jewish.”[9] Faustus went even further by arguing that sacrifice and “bloody” religion were inherently wrong.
Augustine made the case for the positive theological status of flesh against Faustus and the Manichees, but, in so doing, also supplied a defense of Judaism. He was helped by the writings of the Donatist theologian Tyconius, something evident in On Christian Doctrine, which Augustine began writing in 396-397. With the aid of Tyconius, Augustine began to rethink how to read the Bible and the Church’s relationship to Judaism.[10] Tyconius helped Augustine conceive of a positive understanding of the Law and of continuity between the Old and New Covenants.[11] The Law is good, and so was the Jewish understanding of the Law and Israel’s traditional practices. Christ did not abolish the Law, but revealed its depths and telos in himself. In Answer to Faustus, a Manichean, written in 398-400, Augustine argued that bloody, fleshly sacrifice was needed to point to Christ, to prepare the way for the incarnation and crucifixion–which were fleshly and bloody.
This leaves open the question about ongoing Jewish cultic practice after the coming of Christ, something which leads us to Augustine’s debates with Jerome, which are found in Augustine’s letters 40 and 82, from AD 396 and 405, respectively. These debates centered on Jerome’s interpretation of Galatians 2, but were ultimately about the truthfulness of God’s Word and the role of post-apostolic Jewish practice. Surprisingly, Jerome had argued that the debate between Peter and Paul in Galatians 2 was not genuine, since it made no sense that a Christian leader would be confused about or tempted by Jewish practices after Christ.
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Written by James R. Wood |
Monday, October 10, 2022
We see a pattern in scripture and church history: when God raises up prophets, they meet fierce opposition from religious establishment and those devoted to the idols they critique; but true prophets stand firm and soon many begin to follow.

On the Perils of a Winsome Ministry
Introduction
Pastors have a very difficult job. Besides the common burdens of preaching and soul-care, the cultural pressures of our day through which they are guiding others are confusing and seem to be shifting at breakneck speed. And many, both inside and outside of the church, place conflicting demands on them as to what their job entails.
I care so much about pastors, first of all, because I have been one for most of my adult life and, second, because I now teach undergraduate students in religion, many of whom consider entering vocational ministry.
Over the past few years, many pastors and Christian ministry leaders let a lot of people down. It is my contention that the winsome model was a major contributor to what led them astray.
For instance, as I mentioned in my previous American Reformer piece, I think this over-orientation to how Christians are perceived by the broader culture led many pastors to being a bit too accommodating of the media and public health officials surrounding COVID. Not only were they unduly trusting of these figures, but they also castigated reasonable voices of critique. But even worse than this, many of these Christian leaders mediated the messaging that any dissent from the COVID regime was a failure to love one’s neighbor, thus binding the consciences of Christians and stoking division in the church.
Fearing how Christians might appear to the outside world, many Christian leaders failed their congregations. Similar things could be discussed about race issues or LGBT issues (and the whole idea of “pronoun hospitality” or the Revoice affair). How does this winsome framework lead ministers astray? What concepts should we be more attuned to?
The Perils of Winsomeness
Before we get there, let me recap the critique. What I describe with this catchall label of “winsomeness” is the package approach of cultural engagement that seeks above all to minimize offense so as to maximize openness to the gospel. There are biblical imperatives related to winsomeness that we can never abandon.
However, there are other aspects of the biblical vision that seem to get muted or downplayed by the winsome advocates. Too often winsomeness translates into “niceness.” This, I believe, is a sentimentalized reduction of the biblical vision.
Also, it sets up leaders and those they lead for naïveté in a world more hostile to Christian moral norms. In our increasingly post-Christian culture, truthful love will be met with hostility and be called unloving, “unwinsome.” If we are overly concerned with how we are received by others, then it will be tempting to think, no matter how nice we have been, that we are in the wrong, and thus doubt our convictions. Many will be ill-prepared to say no to things they need to be rejected and opposed.
Prodigal Politics
One more concept I would like to add for consideration is how the winsome framework inclines toward what I would like to call “prodigal politics.” This is obviously a play on Tim Keller’s “prodigal God” thesis, in which he provided a very helpful exposition of the gospel through a creative but faithful reading of the parable of the prodigal son. Keller rightly explains that we must avoid two ditches that lead away from the gospel, each represented by one of the sons in the story: relativistic immorality, represented by the younger son; moralistic religiosity, represented by the elder brother. Winsome-thirdway-ists tend to suggest that our harshest treatment should be directed at the older brothers. This often gets applied by the acolytes of winsomeness to the realm of politics and the culture wars as necessitating harshest criticism of those on the right. So, winsome-thirdway-ists, as is commonly known, “punch right, coddle left.” This plays out among pastors and other Christian leaders who regularly comment on contemporary issues, whether in the pulpit, newsletters, or on social media.
This, I argue, in our day, is a bit misguided—primarily because it fails to accurately recognize which group is disproportionately judgmental and authoritarian in our day. Nate Hochman, in a recent piece in the New York Times, explains that in a previous era Republicans were aggressively pushing a moral order, whereas the progressives were the rebels against the hegemonic pressures. Today, says Hochman, the reverse is true. It is the left which is the “schoolmarm of American public life, and the right is associated with the gleeful violation of convention.” Hochman goes on: “Contemporary social pieties are distinctly left wing, and progressives enforce them with at least as much moral ardor as the most zealous members of the religious right.” Having secured certain “rights,” forces on the left demand widespread, public affirmation and seek to punish those who hold traditional views—views that are now out of step with the new status quo.
The “sides” of the political spectrum don’t break neatly along “elder brother” and “younger brother” lines, at least as commonly understood. The group forcefully imposing an ideological orthodoxy on the populace is no longer the old “Moral Majority;” it is the secular progressive social justice movement.
Therefore, I think this approach of punch right, coddle left, is severely mistaken. This approach fails to respond proportionately to the particular discipleship needs of the day and misses unique evangelistic opportunities which are right in front of us.
What Is to Be Done?
This leads me to my positive proposals. If winsomeness has limits and peculiar temptations, what is needed to counterbalance those? I have repeated across various platforms three key terms particularly required for ministry and public witness today: clarity, courage, and resilience.
I think these are essential for Christian leaders and pastors to focus on in our time. We need prophets who perceive the issues clearly and speak to them plainly. We need courageous shepherds who can help form resilient communities. These categories are behind and underneath the remainder of this essay, which focuses on three key terms: sheep, wolves, and fools.
Protecting Sheep
Throughout scripture, God’s people are referred to as sheep. This includes those who are already in the covenant community, but also those elected but not yet in the visible fold—the lost. I do not intend to develop a comprehensive theology of these categories, but rather to explicate how they help us understand what is needed in ministry today—what opportunities are before us if we pay attention.
In our time of postmodernism, social breakdown, ever-shifting mores, and an increasingly authoritarian left, many feel beat up and confused. We could call these the refugees of the sexual and woke revolutions. They are especially confused by the moral insanity and widespread nonsense that is wreaking havoc on the social order and they are wondering why no one is saying the sane thing, why too few are speaking out in order to make sense amidst of the chaos, to say “no” to insanity and clearly explain the good order to which we can and should conform.
Many Christians and Christian leaders refuse to do this. Often they nuance away clear biblical teachings about moral issues because they don’t want to rock the boat or to look narrow-minded. They assume that addressing these hot-button issues will hinder openness to the gospel message. But this nuance often appears to be overly generous to ideas and developments on the left.
A lot of the refugees are turned off by this. So I think we are missing opportunities here. There are tons of people in the middle of the cultural storms who are crying out for someone to speak clearly, to be a courageous voice of reason.
A recent piece at The Gospel Coalition was quite moving. It included snippets of a conversation between a pastor and an elderly man who had pursued transitioning. The latter was born male and eventually had multiple surgeries to help him present as a woman. His transition did not take away his depression, and he later regretted his decisions. The pastor asked him: “When you were in your 20s, what could I have said to you to get you on the right path?” The man said, “Nothing. But what I did need someone like you to continue telling me what was wrong and what was true. Keep telling people the truth.”
There are evangelistic opportunities here that we should not miss. And on top of this, avoiding clear teachings on the hot-button issues of our days is also foolish. If you mute hard teachings to get persons in the door, you set up a likelihood that you will mute them indefinitely. As A.W. Tozer said: “You win them to what you win them with.” People don’t like to feel that they have been had—that you pulled something on them, tricked them to get them in the door and then later bring up the offensive things in your pastoral shepherding.
This brings us to the second type of sheep: Christian disciples. Faithful Christians are also getting tossed in the cultural waves. They are disoriented, confused, and discouraged. They need encouragement to press on. They need to hear from leaders that they aren’t crazy, and that holding to biblical truths does not make them bigots. The embattled faithful need clear and courageous leadership.
And there are also unfaithful Christians. Those who claim the name of Christ and have accommodated the logic of the world, not just in doctrinal matters, but also moral matters about fundamental issues of nature, sex, etc. There are certain moral matters, not just theological ones, that are out of bounds for Christians.
We need ministers to boldly practice church discipline, as instructed in Matthew 18 and 1 Corinthians 5. Blatant, unrepentant, public sin demands strong rebuke, and if the one who claims the name of Christ persists in such sin, he should be excommunicated. In the Reformed tradition, this usually involves barring such unrepentant sinners from the Lord’s table.
One group that deserves special attention today are members in the church who are involved in government and push radical agendas on sex, gender, and abortion. As I said, there are certain moral positions that are out of bounds for Christians. Members who are living in blatant unrepentant public sin, and political figures who are promoting evil policies, need public discipline.
We can take inspiration from a famous instance in church history of courageous church discipline. In AD 390, emperor Theodosius, in a rage, slaughtered around 7000 people. Bishop Ambrose called him to repent, which Theodosius refused, in response to which Ambrose denied communion to the emperor. Eventually Theodosius did repent, accepting Ambrose’s terms for reconciliation, which included the promotion of a law which required a delay of 30 days before any death sentence passed could be enforced. In front of a crowded congregation, Theodosius took off his imperial robes and asked for forgiveness of his sins. Finally, at a church service on Christmas day, Ambrose administered the sacrament to Theodosius.
This was extremely dangerous for Ambrose. But he was faithful to the vocation, and bravely brought harsh love to the powerful church member. We need ministers to lead with this type of clarity, conviction, and courage.
A recent, high-profile example of what I am advocating is when Archbishop Cordileone instructed Nancy Pelosi to abstain from Holy Communion due to her continued advocacy for abortion. We need to remember, in the words of C.S. Lewis, that “the hardness of God is kinder than the softness of men.” Such actions are directed to bring these figures to repentance and bring about justice in our polities.
I don’t want to name names on this, but a current candidate for Congress is public about being shepherded by one of the famous winsome-thirdway pastors. It recently became known that this candidate has a 100% approval rating from Planned Parenthood. There could be many complicating factors to this story, but with these bare details, this looks like a profound failure of pastoral leadership.
So, pastors and Christian leaders need to be clear and bold to both comfort the faithful and to correct unfaithful disciples. And they need to protect the sheep from wolves.
Fighting Wolves
Throughout scripture, false teachers are identified as wolves, and harsh words are reserved for them. As Kevin DeYoung explains, a wolf is a false teacher who snatches up sheep (John 10:12), draws disciples away from the gospel (Acts 2:28), opposes the truth (2 Tim. 3:8), and leads people to make a shipwreck of the faith and to embrace ungodliness (1 Tim. 1:19-20; 2 Tim. 2:16-17).
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Written by James R. Wood |
Monday, May 16, 2022
What does this have to do with the winsome, third way framework? Well, as I argued in my piece, it seems to me that this framework tends to think about politics through the lens of evangelism, and thus in an apologetic mode. This gets expressed in the overwrought concern with how Christians are perceived by virtue of their political actions and the impact on the “public witness” of the church. This leads Christians, often and in various ways, to let the broader culture set the terms for our engagement out of fear about negative perception.

Last week First Things published my essay “How I Evolved on Tim Keller.” An old friend (who clearly is not on Twitter) texted me today asking if there had been much response. How could I possibly explain the dustup via text? Even more importantly, how can I possibly respond to all of the critiques?
I can’t, and I won’t even try.
What I would like to offer are some points of clarification in response to some of the most common concerns I have seen raised, and to elaborate on some of my key arguments.
To start, there are two things I wish I could’ve included if I had more space. Both of these are related to the growing constituency of former disciples of Kellerism. First is that, in some ways, this piece was intended as a defense of Keller against his harshest critics. In recent months I have found myself in various conversations in which former fans express deep disappointment and anger toward Keller. Some argue that he is revealing that he has always been some kind of liberal in third way clothing, or that he is some closet Marxist, or just a general enemy of the church. I think these are all extreme and unwarranted opinions. But I believe they emerge in response to some real issues. I wanted to give expression to the basic concerns of many of these people, and to get out in front of the discourse to establish what I hoped would be more constructive terms for the debate. Secondly, I desire for our evangelical leadership to recognize this growing constituency and not simply dismiss their concerns. These people are looking for leaders to help them navigate our new cultural waters. Often they are turning to less-than-ideal sources. I want godly leaders to respond to this need—whether that be some from the current set of leaders or an entirely new crop that rises to fill the void.
To reiterate, I have an enormous amount of respect for Tim Keller, who helped me understand the depths of the gospel, resolved some key apologetic issues in my thinking, and inspired a life of mission (I was a campus evangelist from 2004-2013, then a pastor to this day who has helped plant churches in secular, liberal cities). Like him, I desperately want our neighbors to receive forgiveness and new life in Christ and to join the fellowship of the church. I want us to build on his example of intellectually serious, culturally aware ministry.
But I would like to shift a bit away from direct discussion of Keller himself, if I may. I do have some critiques of his own thought and public statements, which I articulated in the piece. But I am largely concerned about the way his framework is broadly appropriated by his disciples, many of whom populate leadership positions in churches and other Christian ministries.
Some critics have highlighted the paragraph in which I spoke about my experience of the 2016 election. At that time I couldn’t understand how a Christian could vote for someone like Donald Trump. This, I assumed, would do irreparable damage to the witness of the church. I noticed that my heart became increasingly hardened toward my fellow Christians, and I felt convicted. I started to wonder if there was something amiss in my thinking, if there might be something wrong with my framework.
Critics have focused on this paragraph, saying: “Isn’t that your problem, not Keller’s?” Yes and no. I intentionally wrote that paragraph in a confessional manner to signal the fact that I believe I was applying Keller’s thinking in a certain way, and thus was primarily responsible for my actions. Yet, I don’t believe my experience in this regard was unique. I have heard from many others similar stories; and, even more, I have witnessed over the past six years how Kellerite Christians treat other Christians in similar ways. I do not believe that Keller’s teachings are necessarily responsible, but I do think they generally dispose his disciples in a certain direction.
The Kellerites propound to abhor division among Christians, and yet I have found them far more divisive than they admit. This is captured in the common trope: “Punch right, coddle left.” Those who are devoted to the third-wayism of Keller generally appear to assume the worst from one side of the political spectrum and give the benefit of the doubt to—or at least provide an apologetic for—the other. (Case in point: David French’s recent piece on my essay.) Kellerites make up a significant portion of the “never Trump” movement among Christians, and this movement is unforgiving of those who have chosen, for whatever reason, to vote in that way (full disclosure: I did not in either election). They are also quick to join in the chorus of denunciations of “Christian nationalism,” which is often a bogeyman label for any robust pursuit of conservative Christian influence in politics. Make what you wish of Aaron Renn’s Three Worlds schema, but I think it is a bit obvious that, for example, in recent years conservative Christian political engagement that would have been seen as somewhat innocuous in previous years is quickly and regularly denounced as authoritarian “Christian nationalism.” I think this is itself partial validation of the Renn thesis, however much we want to debate the specifics of the timeline. And Kellerites are often quick to join in the denunciations.
Though I have been accused of saying otherwise, I very much share with Keller the desire to resist political tribalism and uncritical partisanship. Christians should absolutely avoid becoming beholden to any particular party. But one of my concerns about the third way, “winsome” model for politics is how it often seems to incline its adherents to be beholden to the perspective of the contemporary status quo—what the kids call “the Narrative.” This was all too evident during the pandemic as countless pastors and Christian leaders, especially those of the Kellerite persuasion, uncritically imbibed and disseminated the messaging from legacy media and public health officials. There is a place for trusting institutions, but this seemed to go too far, especially when reasonable voices of critique were roundly dismissed and castigated as conspiracy theorists, many of whom have been subsequently vindicated. But even worse than this, many of these Christian leaders mediated the messaging that any dissent from the covid regime was a failure to love one’s neighbor, thus binding the consciences of Christians and stoking division in the church.
What does this have to do with the winsome, third way framework? Well, as I argued in my piece, it seems to me that this framework tends to think about politics through the lens of evangelism, and thus in an apologetic mode. This gets expressed in the overwrought concern with how Christians are perceived by virtue of their political actions and the impact on the “public witness” of the church. This leads Christians, often and in various ways, to let the broader culture set the terms for our engagement out of fear about negative perception.
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