China’s Tragic War on Uyghur Women
The Chinese government is exploiting the unique ability women have to become pregnant and bring new life into the world. It is doing this to destroy—at least in part—the Uyghur people. Beijing’s abuses against Uyghur women are one of the most significant human rights crises of our time, and we should be talking about that.
Last week, an independent tribunal in the United Kingdom released a judgment that found the Chinese government’s treatment of Uyghur people to be consistent with the legal definition of genocide. Multiple governments have made the same pronouncement, including the United States, Canada, United Kingdom, Lithuania, the Czech Republic, and Belgium. But these countries didn’t release their legal reasoning or factual evidence. The Uyghur Tribunal did—and it is Beijing’s abuses against Uyghur women specifically that resulted in the tribunal’s judgment.
Days of public hearings featured witness and expert testimonies, and a team of international human rights lawyers, professors, and NGO leaders combed through the evidence. The evidence uncovered was then measured against the legal definitions of crimes against humanity, torture, and genocide. The Chinese government was found guilty on all three counts.
The suppression of the Uyghur ethnic and religious minority is nearly all-encompassing. High-tech surveillance watches their every move. Passports are systematically confiscated. At least 1.8 million Uyghurs are held in internment camps, and both detained and “graduated” Uyghurs are used as a source of forced labor. No Uyghur person escapes the consequences of Beijing’s brutal crackdown in the Xinjiang region. Even children are sent to be raised in state-run boarding schools. Yet, notably, the weight of China’s genocide is targeted toward women.
The Uyghur Tribunal determined that China was “imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group,” one of the methods of genocide outlined in the 1948 Genocide Convention. Earlier this year, the U.S. government came to the same conclusion.
Women bear the brunt of Beijing’s violent birth control policies in Xinjiang. One woman who worked at a hospital in Xinjiang in the late 1990s told the Uyghur Tribunal that approximately 100 women came for abortions every day, most sent by the government’s Family Planning Office and many in the late stages of pregnancy. She said that the aborted babies were disposed of in a garbage basket. Even after the end of China’s notorious one-child policy (and subsequent two-child policy), authorities in Xinjiang target Uyghur women for harsh sterilization and forced abortion policies.
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A Review: To Count Our Days: A History of Columbia Theological Seminary.
What happens when the culture moves in a less theocentric direction? The middle also moves with it. While William Childs Robinson may have been pugnacious in his defense of traditional Calvinism, he was right about the effects of loosening confessional subscription on the institution and the church. The story of Columbia Theological Seminary is mixed. There were many days of greatness followed by mediocrity. There were movements to improve the institution by moving in a more elite direction, but there was a loss of confessional stability.
Erskine Clarke, To Count Our Days: A History of Columbia Theological Seminary. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2019. Pp. 369.
Erskine Clarke, a former professor of American Religion at Columbia Theological Seminary, has written a readable and thought-provoking history of one of the preeminent seminaries of the Southern Presbyterian Church. In its 369 pages, he gives the reader a critical view of the seminary. What separates it from David Calhoun’s volume on Columbia, Our Southern Zion, is the connections with southern culture and his critical analysis of some of the theologians connected to the institution—especially over the issues of race. Also, unlike Calhoun’s volume, he goes into the history of the seminary when it moved to Atlanta. For Clarke, Columbia is a seminary that struggled financially and intellectually with its past. He traces the changes to the seminary from strict Calvinism to a seminary that is now loosely associated with the Presbyterian Church and dominated by a theology of diversity.
Clarke begins his history with the founding of the seminary in Columbia, South Carolina. While there are other histories of the institution that can give the names, dates, and synodical actions that brought the seminary into existence, Clarke goes beyond that by bringing out the influence of the plantation system and slavery in Columbia’s founding.
Ainsley-Hall, the centerpiece of the seminary, was a southern mansion whose physical characteristics pointed to an elitist institution that trained the gentlemen theologians of the south. But the institution and the building were “to help hide the harsh realities of slavery and to help legitimize the power and wealth of slave owners and the social order that kept them powerful” (p. 7). Clarke is somewhat justified in his opinion because the seminary was intertwined with the plantation system and its slaves. The seminary in its early years may have had a brilliant faculty with John Henley Thornwell, Benjamin Morgan Palmer, and John Adger, but slavery was also there. While some Columbia professors may have disliked slavery as an institution, they were still paternalistic towards African Americans. The approach of the Columbia theologians as described by Clarke, was a middle way between abolition and radical proslavery opinions which was dehumanizing. But the middle way would be abandoned during the Civil War for an extreme position.
With the advent of the Civil War and reconstruction, the seminary suffered through poverty and destruction with the dismantling of the plantation system. As a way to survive the war intellectually, John Girardeau and other faculty created a milieu in which they maintained southern culture and used language to preserve the “lost cause.” Clarke sees this era as one of not only economic but also intellectual impoverishment. He notes that John Girardeau’s theology represented a “theological shift.” “Girardeau’s scholasticism represented a narrowing of the spirit that animated the seminary and that he shaped the tone of what was taught and learned on the seminary campus” (p. 111). He contrasts Girardeau to Adger, who followed the sacramental mystery of Calvin.
Another event was the James Woodrow affair which was a retreat from openness to science. Woodrow was called to the Perkins Professorship of Natural Science in Connection with Revelation which was established in 1859. The scientifically trained Woodrow was to show that there were no conflicts between biblical revelation and science. Woodrow was a proponent of evolution and “insisted science was neither religious nor irreligious…” (p. 119). But for R. L. Dabney and other southern theologians, the ramifications were an assault of modernism. Clarke believes that the real issue was that Woodrow called into question not only the received orthodoxy, but also “Their self-understanding as white Southern Presbyterian” (p. 123). It was a further narrowing of the intellect.
The fortunes of the seminary changed in the twentieth century with the re-emergence of the south’s economy. The seminary moved from Columbia to Atlanta in 1927 and with significant changes. The architecture changed from a southern mansion in Columbia which was its main building to architecture that was reminiscent of Cambridge and Oxford. The physical plant resembled a college which gave the tincture of elite academics. Under the long serving president McDowell Richards, there was a move towards academic professionalization and a broader perspective as new faculty was hired. Eventually, Columbia turned to Neo-Orthodoxy, feminism, and diversity. The seminary that once saw itself in service to the Southern Presbyterian Church loosened its ties to Presbyterianism and in 2012 its revised mission statement said that “Columbia Theological Seminary exists to educate and nurture the faithful, imaginative, and effective leaders for the sake of the Church and the world” (pg. 285). Clarke sees Columbia now as “post-denominational” (p. 285).
Conservatives during this period are not portrayed positively. William Childs Robinson is portrayed as arrogant and overly zealous in his defense of traditional doctrine. George Manford Gutzke comes off as an academic lightweight. As the 1960s approached with the problems of segregation, conservative students were seen as intolerant when it came to the issue of race and theological liberalism. Some of those students included the founders of the P.C.A., such as Morton Smith and Kennedy Smartt. In the epilogue to his volume, Clark asks the question whether Columbia is trying to rid itself of its tradition which was heavily influenced by antebellum southern culture only to be replaced by a cosmopolitan culture (pp. 291-292).
This book should encourage readers to ponder Erskine Clarke’s work due to his investigation of the influence of culture on seminary education. As one reads about the impact of slavery and racism, one cannot help but mourn. And while one may focus on the glories of the southern presbyterian tradition, one may want to also groan over its shortcoming.
Yet, while conservatives have their own sins to bear, progressives also have much to ponder. The loss of confessional fidelity has led the seminary away from it primary mission of not just equipping ministers for the Presbyterian church, but also its own unique Christian witness. Besides vocational training, Columbia’s modern ethos makes it more like a modern university. One set of cultural values has been exchanged for another.
There are issues that some readers will take issue with this volume. Clarke comes close to stating that the adoption of Old School Calvinism contributed to the establishment of slavery. He writes that the “theological traditions taught at Columbia offered students and their parishioners’ explanations of the incongruent and contradictory character of life in a slave society and provided ethical standards for living in such a world” (p. 25). To some extent this may be true, but it also needs to be kept in mind that there have been a variety of responses to slavey amongst the proponents of Old School Theology even during the Civil War period.
While this volume gives some idea of the changes that occurred theologically at Columbia, it makes the reader ponder how the seminary wandered so far from its past. Perhaps part of the reason is that Columbia, according to the author, tried to forge a “middle way” between extremes. During the Civil War, they didn’t follow that mindset. With the recovery of the south after the war, that genteel mindset may be a significant reason for the change. What happens when the culture moves in a less theocentric direction? The middle also moves with it. While William Childs Robinson may have been pugnacious in his defense of traditional Calvinism, he was right about the effects of loosening confessional subscription on the institution and the church.
The story of Columbia Theological Seminary is mixed. There were many days of greatness followed by mediocrity. There were movements to improve the institution by moving in a more elite direction, but there was a loss of confessional stability.
Dr. Jerry Robbins is a Minister in the Presbyterian Church in America and is Pastor of Warrington PCA in Pensacola, Fla.
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The End of the World According to Jesus
To the disciples, much about Jesus’ coming Kingdom would be learned through these secretive parables (Matthew 11:34-35). They understood that for a period of time, imposters would exist alongside the true followers of Christ, like a field of wheat and tares (Matthew 13:24-31). But, by the end, the Kingdom of Christ would tower over all the kingdoms of the earth, like a Mustard tree in the master’s garden (Matthew 13:31-32). And, at the end of the age (As Malachi predicted), all who are in Christ would be separated from the wicked, like good and bad fish caught in a dragnet (Matthew 13:47-52).
From Malachi’s Eden to Matthew’s Jerusalem
As we begin, I want to reinforce two tremendous truths that have revolutionized my study of eschatology. 1) Most of the “end-time” events have already occurred in the past. They truly were future events to the men who described them and wrote them down. But, for us, most of these events have already occurred. 2) Jesus came to earth twice in the first century. The first coming was physical and incarnational. This is where He rescued His people and delivered them from their sins. The second coming was spiritual and covenantal. This is where He rained down judgment upon apostate Judah for her crimes and rebellion.
We know this because Malachi prophecies there will be two specific first-century “comings” of the Lord. His first coming will be a physical coming, where He rescues those who feared the Lord and esteemed His holy name (Malachi 3:16). This includes all those who repented and followed Jesus under the guidance of John, those who repented under the ministry of Jesus, or those that believed in His name in the earliest days of the Church. God saves those men and women by allowing His one and only Son to undergo the punishment they deserve (alluded to in Malachi 3:17) so that He can declare them righteous, and distinguish them from the wicked (Malachi 3:18). This certainly has already occurred and is the very Gospel of our salvation today.
The second first-century “coming” of Christ, described by Malachi, is a spiritual act of judgment against the covenant rebels in Judah. While Jesus’ physical body remained in heaven, seated upon His throne, Malachi tells us that He would bring a fiery judgment that none of that generation could endure. Of that “coming”, Malachi tells us several things:“But who can endure the day of His coming? And who can stand when He appears? – Malachi 3:2
“Then I will draw near to you for judgment – Malachi 3:5a
“For behold, the day is coming, burning like a furnace, and all the arrogant and every evildoer will be chaff; and the day that is coming will set them ablaze,” says the Lord of hosts, “so that it will leave them neither root nor branch.” 2 “But for you who fear My name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings; and you will go forth and skip about like calves from the stall. 3 You will tread down the wicked, for they will be ashes under the soles of your feet on the day which I am preparing,” says the Lord of hosts. – Malachi 4:1-3These final verses from chapter 4 bring the entire theological point together. Jesus is coming in two different ways to deal with two very different kinds of people. For the repentant, He will rise from the dead bringing healing to the broken, and He will endow the joyless with never-ending delight. He will welcome His people into the garden of His presence. He will graft them into His covenantal and life-giving vine, even while cutting off the apostate Jews so that neither root or branch remains. Unto that wicked and adulterous generation, the Lord would not come in peace, but with a flaming sword. He will turn them back into the dust from which He made them and put them, like the serpent, under His people’s feet (c.f. Romans 16:20). That is the picture Malachi is painting.
This is also the eschatological picture the whole Bible is painting. Adam was created to live with God, have a legacy and dominion, feast upon the life-giving tree, and put the enemies of God under his feet. Instead, Adam chose to sin, which meant he lost his relationship with God, he was chased out of the garden with a fiery sword, he was banned from the tree of life, his progeny was put under the curse, and his dominion was turned into slavery, and his body was subjected to sweat, blood, and toil until it returned again to the dust.
This is the subtle Edenic picture Malachi is painting for Jerusalem. Like Adam, the Jews were going to lose their favored status as God’s firstborn son (Exodus 4:22-23). The nation would be removed from the garden land of Judah, set ablaze by the sword of His wrath, incapable of consuming the life-giving vine, their legacy finished, their national sovereignty turned to full-on slavery, and their bodies turned to ash so that God’s true people would tread them underfoot.
What Malachi is alluding to is that fallen Jerusalem will fare no better than fallen Adam. But, redeemed Jerusalem, the Israel of God (Galatians 3), who is the church that Jesus would save unto Himself, would be brought back into relationship with their creator by the working of the true and better Adam (1 Corinthians 15). Because of Jesus, the Church will have a lasting legacy that will bless all the families of this world (Genesis 12:1-3) and she will have a never-ending dominion that extends His Kingdom to the ends of the earth (Daniel 2:44-45). Because of Jesus, the Church will be a tree planted beside the fount of living water (Psalm 1; John 7), she will be grafted into the life-giving vine of His love (John 15), to produce all kinds of fruit for His glory (Galatians 5; Revelation 22:1-2), that will also provide healing to the nations. And, instead of returning to the dust in curse, eventually, these people will be given new heavenly bodies (1 Corinthians 15) to live with their true Adam King, forever in a garden city (Revelation 22).
When Malachi speaks of two very specific outcomes, happening to two very different kinds of people, that are brought about by two very different kinds of “comings”, he does two very important things. First, he is simply picking up on the massive Biblical themes that were woven throughout God’s amazing story. The children of the serpent (everyone who rejects God’s messenger), will receive the curses of the covenant (Matthew 23:33; 1 John 3:8-10). The children of God, made alive by the rising Son, will receive every single one of the covenant blessings (Ephesians 1:3). Second, he is rooting the fulfillment and inauguration of all the Old Testament’s eschatology to the two first-century comings of Christ.
Knowing these truths, mentioned above, will help us as we transition from the last book of the Old Testament to the first book of the New Testament. There, we will examine what Jesus, Himself, says about the topic of eschatology, and how that applies to Jerusalem, which will take us several weeks to cover. Today, we will begin with some introductory observations.
From Eschatological Malachi to Jesus as True Israel
The first portion of Matthew’s Gospel details how the coming Christ will bring healing to His people, as Malachi predicted. What Matthew uniquely contributes to this story is that Christ would do that work by replacing Israel. For instance, in Matthew 1, Jesus will come from the prototypical line of David and Abraham, which makes Him not only a candidate for the Jewish throne but the one who will bring the Abrahamic blessing to the nations (Galatians 3:16). This makes Him true Israel, but let us keep going.
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The Person of the Holy Spirit
As the third person of the Trinity, the Spirit is co-equal with the Father and Son, and yet as a distinct person, the Holy Spirit is the one who regenerates us and guides us into all truth. He doesn’t speak on his own authority but relays the truth. The Holy Spirit is ever illuminating the work of the Son, bringing glory to Christ and declaring the Logos to the church.
Albert Mohler says, “In some evangelical circles the Holy Spirit has faded into the background of our theological interests, leaving us with an anemic view of the Spirit, and subsequently, a deficient relationship with the third member of the Trinity.”
The Bible is not silent regarding the person and work of the Holy Spirit! He appears on the opening page of Scripture (Genesis 1:2) and is seen throughout, most primarily in perfecting & sanctifying the believer.
The Person of the Holy Spirit
John 14:16-17 says, “16 And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Helper, to be with you forever, 17 even the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, for he dwells with you and will be in you.”
Notice with me that Jesus does not say the Spirit of truth is an “it” – but uses the personal pronouns “he” and “Him”. “You know Him, for he dwells with you, and will be in you.” We would not describe our spouses as “it” – unless we wanted to sleep on the couch. The Holy Spirit is not an impersonal wind, ghost, or force that you can channel or use like Luke Skywalker with enough concentration.
The Holy Spirit of God has knowledge (1 Cor 2:10-11), a will (1 Cor 12:11), a mind (Rom 8:27), He loves (Rom 15:30), reveals (Acts 13:2), intercedes (Romans 8:26), teaches (John 14:26), guides (Acts 16:6-7), can be grieved (Eph 4:30), insulted (Heb 10:29), lied to (Acts 5:3), and blasphemed (Matt 12:31-32). These can all only be referring to a Person.
You can’t grieve or lie to an “it”. You can’t sin against an impersonal thing. No one has ever sinned against their toaster by grabbing a bagel at Panera instead of at home – but countless men have sinned against their wives by committing adultery.
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