But What If We Win?
What is clear from Davenport is that a Christian commonwealth is one of coordinate states wherein rulers fulfill Isaiah 49:23 by helping, nourishing, and protecting the true religion, the true church. None of this implies a dependence of Christ’s objective preeminence on any earthly powers—get that out of your head! It is a matter of duty, justice, and order according to the natures and ends of both powers. More basically, the best form of government is one where both church and state flourish according to their design, mutuality, and end (mediate and final).
Consternation from certain wings of Evangelicalism over Christian nationalism consistently ignores threshold questions for essential any political theory, thereby exposing they do not have an operative political theory apart from baptizing the status quo. Namely, what would you do if you could start from scratch? What is best and permissible in principle? What is the ideal? Or as one friend likes to ask, what if we win? What if Christians were in charge and the majority of the population was at least culturally Christian? What kind of polity, what kind of church-state relationship, what kind of laws would you set up? I shudder to think how limp and lame many contemporary answers to these questions would be.
Concessions according to prudence and context can only be properly considered once these kinds of threshold questions, the types of questions political theory are most concerned with, have been answered.
This is the entire purpose of the so-called state of nature discourse. It is not, in its best form, concerned with vainly divining primordial existence. Rather, it is a heuristic for determining proper socio-political organization.
A fatal problem with most of our interlocutors is that they do not or cannot contemplate these things. Their entire vision, intellectual frame, is saturated with what currently is, or at least as they understand what is, which is almost never in a functional but rather ideological sense.
That is, the ideological sense—explanations—as proscribed by the incumbent ideology itself. This exercise is unserious because it is unrealistic and lacks utility.
In any case, this, among other reasons, is why reading older political theory from our rich Protestant tradition is essential, even if the reader rejects the conclusions therein, the sources in view reform the mind. John Davenport’s short treatise, A Discourse About Civil Government (1663), is one such text and should be read, for maximum effect, in conjunction with his 1669 election sermon.
To begin, Davenport improves upon the predominant framing of church-state questions.
“the only wise God hath fitted and appointed two sorts of Administrations, Ecclesiastical and Civil. Hence, they are capable of a twofold Relation, and of Action and Power suitable to them both; viz. Civil and Spiritual, and accordingly must be exercised about both in their seasons, without confounding those two different states, or destroying either of them.”
This is, of course, boilerplate. Few disagreements will emerge from it. We have two administrations or polities, spiritual or ecclesiastical and civil. What will appear irregular to some readers is that Davenport elects not to distinguish between the two administrations or powers with a church-state (commonwealth) dichotomy, but rather to speak of a “Christian Communion” with the ecclesiastical and civil administrations being two species of the same Christian communion genus. This makes sense given that God is the author and efficient cause of both, his glory is the end of both, and man is the common subject of both. Differences, indeed, remain. Thus, they are not of identical species and the genus in which they both participate is limited to two species (e.g., Luke 22:38).
The kind or expression of power is a notable distinction. Davenport says the ecclesiastical power has only “oeconomical” power by which he means stewardship given that Christ is the only true head of the universal invisible church. The civil power, on the other hand, possesses “despotical” power (Luke 22:25), or what Baxter would call regal power or Hale would call nomothetical power. Christ has given civil rulers “lordly” power over men (1 Peter 2:13). This is proper since, while there is overlap, the ecclesiastical power primarily concerns itself with the inner man and the civil power with outer man, albeit, again, this distinction is not clean or absolute. For the ecclesiastical power is accidentally, we might say, concerned with the outer man just as the civil power is accidentally concerned with the inner man, but these are auxiliary concerns.
The glory of God is the final end of both administrations of Christian communion. Their mediate ends are diverse. The mediate end of civil order is preservation of society and the common welfare; the mediate end of the ecclesiastical order is salvation of souls and the sanctification of men. But both, as receptors of power from God must glorify God.
These differences explain their difference in operation. But this does not make them contrary to one another or anywise in tension. They are to be “coordinate States,” mutually helpful, reciprocal, aiding the whole man within one Christian communion and honoring the same God.
Here we have the ideal, theoretical relationship between what we now call church and state. This is the vision of a happy, cohesive and coherent society. Now the question arises as to what is to be done in a preexisting society and a newly founded one “wherein men are free to choose what Form they shall judge best.”
Here’s the kicker. Many Christians today take Paul’s advice to the Romans as perennial, delineating the permanent posture for believers (i.e., subjugation and martyrdom) in any and all circumstances. Davenport begs to differ. An extended quote is in order. Be forewarned: it will break some brains.
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Why I Changed My Mind about Deconstruction
I changed my mind about deconstruction. After researching this topic, I’ve come to see that deconstruction isn’t merely asking questions or a synonym for doubt. Rather, it’s a process with no correct destination, no ending, and no biblical authority. As a result, I don’t use words like “healthy deconstruction” or “good deconstruction” anymore. For me, that’s an oxymoron. Deconstruction is a fundamentally flawed process, and I don’t think that changes by placing a few positive adjectives in front of the word.
I changed my mind about deconstruction.
When I first began looking into deconstruction, I quickly discovered that people were using the term to mean different things. For instance, when someone says, “I’m deconstructing my faith,” they could mean anything from questioning a tertiary doctrine, like young-earth creation, to leaving the faith altogether.
Attempting to bring clarity to the conversation, I thought adding adjectives to the word deconstruction (like healthy versus unhealthy, or good versus bad) would help. So, for example, I would say that while unhealthy deconstruction rethinks faith without requiring Scripture as a standard, healthy deconstruction corrects mistaken beliefs to make them align with Scripture. Problem solved, I thought. However, this approach assumes deconstruction itself is a neutral process. I don’t believe that anymore.
While writing The Deconstruction of Christianity with Alisa Childers, we discovered some fundamental beliefs that undergird the deconstruction process. Moreover, these ideas are antithetical to the Christian worldview. This helps explain why so many who deconstruct their faith end up leaving the faith that was once for all delivered to the saints (Jude 3). Here are three reasons why I changed my mind about deconstruction.
No Correct Destination
First, deconstruction has no correct destination.
A defining feature of deconstruction is that there’s no right way to do it and no right destination. For example, Jo Luehmann, author of Decolonizing Traditional Christianity, expounds on this idea in a video titled Our Journey of Faith Deconstruction:
This is the thing with deconstruction that I really think it’s important to understand. Everyone lands wherever they land. There is no right place to land with deconstruction. Some people land away from faith. Some people land in a different type of faith. Some people become agnostic. Some people become a different type of Christian. Some people become atheists. And all of those routes in deconstruction are valid and to be respected.
Luehmann is not alone. “NakedPastor” David Hayward, who regularly creates social media content on faith deconstruction, puts it more concisely: “There isn’t a right way to deconstruct, nor is there a right destination. You do you.”
Why isn’t there a right place to land in deconstruction? The answer is that deconstruction is a postmodern process. What I mean is, deconstruction isn’t about objective truth. It’s about personal happiness. In one sense, the destination of deconstruction is like the destination of a vacation. Whether you end up in Hawaii or Jamaica or somewhere else, it’s all personal preference. It would be silly to say Hawaii is the “right” vacation destination for everyone.
Notice how deconstruction assumes there is no objective truth when it comes to religious beliefs. That’s why it doesn’t matter how you do it or where you end up as long as you’re happy.
Now contrast this with Jesus’ words in the Sermon on the Mount. He says, “Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the way is broad that leads to destruction, and there are many who enter through it.
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Entrusting My Treasure
There are no guarantees in this life. At least, not the kind that keep you healthy, wealthy, and wise. We are all in His hands—father, mother, sister, brother, missionary, or local church member. And He is so trustworthy! I can magnify His worth as I entrust to His care the children He has temporarily entrusted to my care. Fellow mothers, let’s surrender our fears and ambitions for our children and let the Lord write their stories according to His perfect wisdom.
I leaned over my bleeding daughter, adrenaline pumping through my own veins as I obeyed the instructions of my nurse friend and co-worker, Heidi. My sweet 7-year-old Savannah looked up into my eyes from the tile floor beneath the ladder-like stairs and asked, “Why did God let me fall? I was getting toys for the little kids!”
Savannah will always bear the scar in her forehead from the wound that bared bone that day, and my own soul would bleed and fester over the next weeks as I grappled with her question that cut deeply into my mother-heart. It was a wound that would eventually heal but leave its mark on me.
Our Stewardship
Our gracious Father had given three beautiful children to Forrest and me to shepherd and steward, and we had gladly accepted the responsibility. The Lord also made it clear that we would be raising them in a rural province of Cambodia, known among the developing world for its rugged poverty. Our response was always a resounding “God will take care of us!” But what did that mean now? My pain cried out, God, we have given up so much to come here and serve the Cambodian people. Can I not trust you to keep my children safe from harm? I wanted to require God to insulate my family from hurts in exchange for our sacrifice and service. This would not do. I would wrestle with Him, even until the break of day, but He would prevail with a single touch. He is Lord.
I loved to think of how the Lord had taught me to embrace risks for His Name’s sake, tamping down my fear and stepping out, then gasping at the wonder of what He can do with just a little faith. I talk about it to others. I write about it. But the glory takes on an uncertain hue when my risk-taking affects my little ones. Can I pursue activities that promote the Gospel, knowing sickness and danger will encroach on their young lives too?
I can be a good steward as I help my children experience how to invest in eternal things, counting cost according to God’s economic system, not the world’s.
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Job — The Suffering Prophet (3): Who Was Job?
We also learn from Job how we should respond to suffering, should this be God’s purpose for us. When Job is called to suffer, he does not curse God, nor seek to take his own life. Because he is blameless, Job has every right to cry out for vindication–as do we if we have sown to the Spirit. Job is not suffering because he has done something wrong which angered God. Rather Job is suffering because God has a purpose for his ordeal–-as yet unknown to Job.
Who Was Job?
So, who was this man who God called to suffer great loss and play such an important role in redemptive history?
Job is introduced to the reader in the opening verses of the first chapter. “There was a man in the land of Uz whose name was Job, and that man was blameless and upright, one who feared God and turned away from evil” (v. 1). The land of Uz is east of the River Jordan (Qedem–“the east”), likely in what is now the nation of Jordan. Uz could be anywhere between Edom on the south, Moab on the east, and the land of the Aram to the north. While Job was not an Israelite–since no tribal or family identification is given–he clearly worships Israel’s God, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. [1] So, apparently, do his friends and family.
As the story opens and we meet the central character, what stands out is the assertion that Job was “blameless and upright” and that “he feared God and turned away evil.” What, exactly, does this mean? One thing it does not mean is that Job was sinless, or that he had attained a state of justifying righteousness because he lived a blameless and upright life. We must not confuse cause and effect. We know this to be the case because elsewhere in this book Job declares himself to be a sinner. In Job 7:20, Job laments, “If I sin, what do I do to you, you watcher of mankind? Why have you made me your mark? Why have I become a burden to you?” In Job 13:26, he laments “for you write bitter things against me and make me inherit the iniquities of my youth.” Finally, in Job 14:16 -17, Job confesses that “you would number my steps; you would not keep watch over my sin; my transgression would be sealed up in a bag, and you would cover over my iniquity.”
Upright and Blameless: What Does that Mean?
If Job acknowledges himself to be a sinner, what does it mean when Job is described as being “blameless and upright?” The answer is simple. The text means exactly what it says–Job was blameless and upright. He feared God and shunned evil. Job was an honest and moral man, who avoided those things contrary to the law of God that had been written on his heart (cf. Romans 2:14). In chapters 29-31, Job can appeal to the public knowledge of his piety, which is the visible manifestation of his faith in YHWH. When we read that Job was blameless and upright, we should understand this to mean that Job believed YHWH’s promise to forgive his sins and, like Abraham, Job was justified through faith. Job believed and confessed that YHWH will cover his sins and through that act of faith, Christ’s righteousness was reckoned to Job, just as it was to Abraham.
Job’s faith in YHWH bore much fruit of the Spirit, fruit which was tangible to all who knew him and fruit which was especially pleasing to YHWH. As one writer puts it, “there was an honest harmony between Job’s profession and his life, quite the opposite of the hypocrisy of which he was presently accused by Satan and later by his friends.” [2] Having been justified by faith, Job lived in such a way that his conduct before men was blameless and upright, in contrast to someone who is indifferent to the things of God, or who hypocritically professes one thing, but lives like their personal profession makes no difference.
Job’s conduct was exemplary (some of it is described in the following verses in the way he served as priest of his family). In Job 4:3-6, one of Job’s friends can declare of Job, “Behold, you have instructed many, and you have strengthened the weak hands. Your words have upheld him who was stumbling, and you have made firm the feeble knees. But now it has come to you, and you are impatient; it touches you, and you are dismayed. Is not your fear of God your confidence, and the integrity of your ways your hope?” In Job 42:8, when God rebukes one of Job’s friends, telling him “now therefore take seven bulls and seven rams and go to my servant Job and offer up a burnt offering for yourselves. And my servant Job shall pray for you, for I will accept his prayer not to deal with you according to your folly. For you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has.” In this, we see that Job is a righteous man, which is the outward manifestation of his faith in YHWH—not only by virtue of his justification before God through faith, but evident in his daily conduct. James 2:18 comes to mind. “But someone will say, `You have faith and I have works.’ Show me your faith apart from your works, and I will show you my faith by my works.” When Job suffers, it is not because he has some secret sin, or because God is punishing Job because he has done something which provokes God to anger.
This is precisely why Satan sets out to expose Job’s obedience as phony (a quid pro quo) and why the Lord allows Job to be put to the test. Even if God turned Satan to an ash at that very moment, the question about human righteousness resulting from divine bribery would never be answered. Job was truly blameless and upright. Job had done nothing to bring about the trial that is about to befall him. He feared God and shunned evil. Hence God allows Satan to put Job to the test to vindicate God’s righteous dealing with his creatures. Satan will get his answer.
This also explains why Job has every right to cry out for God to vindicate his good name. After all, God has promised not to punish the blameless. But why then does Job suffer if he has done nothing wrong? That is the question which this remarkable book will seek to answer. And that answer is found in the wisdom and mysterious purposes of God.
In verses 2 and 3, we learn something of Job’s personal circumstances before his ordeal begins.
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