I Thought I Could Do It Alone
There is only one who has the power to deliver us: to overcome our sinful nature and the wrath it deserves. It is only by Jesus that we can be saved. I will then trust in Him and the means He has provided for our growth. He has promised to conform me to His image. I cannot do it alone; I cannot do it at all, but with God, all things are possible.
I thought I could do it alone, but I found out I could not do it at all. Every time I fell, I would get up and promise myself it would be the last time. I would find the point of weakness, put a fence around it, and promise to stay away, but the fences had holes. A little more willpower, a few new strategies, or a new ascetic practice, none of it was of any value in stopping the indulgence of the flesh.
It was like trying to strangle myself with the power of my own two hands: it could not be done. Either self-preservation would kick in, and I would stop, or if I managed to make any progress, as the strength of my flesh would start to die, so would the very strength I needed to finish the job. You cannot subdue the flesh by operating in its power.
Someone else must do it.
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Christ the Fountain of Cleansing
Boundless compassion—rooted not in any sentimentalism, but in his own blood-stained cross—that ought to make us want to root out every vestige of remaining sin in our lives. We can’t live in the sin he died to free us from. We must be driven, by his own loveliness, to make war on our sin.
While He was in one of the cities, behold, there was a man covered with leprosy; and when he saw Jesus, he fell on his face and implored Him, saying, “Lord, if You are willing, You can make me clean.“ And He stretched out His hand and touched him, saying, ‘I am willing; be cleansed.’ And immediately the leprosy left him.Luke 5:12-13 (NASB95)
The vile skin disease of leprosy was designed by God to be a picture or a parable of human sin. John MacArthur calls it an “irresistible analogy” of sin. The leprosy of sin has infected all mankind to the core of our being. All our faculties—our minds, our hearts, our wills, our consciences—have all been diseased by spiritual leprosy. Because of that, we all stand in need of cleansing from that great fountain that is the blood of the Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, we must come to him alone for cleansing, and we must come to him in precisely the way that this leper comes.
Consider five observations from the scene in Luke 5.
1. The Sinner’s Contamination
A leper, unclean and potentially dangerous to others, had long been commanded to live in isolation according to the law. Because of that, a leper was often a stranger to the comforts and pleasures of any sort of companionship. In some cases, he would struggle to remember what it felt like to touch another human being. The man in Luke 5 who approached Jesus would have been an outcast, a castaway. Not only was leprosy defiling and isolating, it was also eminently shameful. A leper’s uncleanness became his identity, as he was required to cry, “Unclean!” signaling his uncleanness to any passersby.
As we consider the awful corruption of leprosy, we must see ourselves in this leper. How appropriate is the picture leprosy is of the corruption of sin that afflicts each one of us by nature. Like leprosy, sin is defiling. Isaiah 64:6, “For all of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous deeds are like a filthy garment.” Like leprosy, sin’s defilement is totalizing. Our entire constitution is infected with sin. Like leprosy, sin isolates. It makes man unfit for fellowship with God. If physical uncleanness couldn’t dwell alongside the manifestation of God’s presence and people in Israel, how much more does our spiritual uncleanness alienate us from the very presence of God himself?
In our sin, we have belittled His glory. We have preferred filth over beauty. Nobody should want anything to do with us, least of all the thrice Holy God of the universe. We are outcasts, fit only for the depths of hell itself. If we had any sense of ourselves at all, we would cry out in grief over our betrayal and for mercy from Him who we betrayed.
2. The Sinner’s Contrition
We can do nothing to rid leprosy from our bodies. Still less can our filthy rags rid the sinfulness from our souls. But the leper in Luke 5 sees Jesus. And when he saw him, verse 12 says, “He fell on his face and implored him.”
This is total brokenness, total humiliation. This man knows who he is. He knows he is undeserving, and so he takes the posture of humility, of reverence, even of worship, as he says in the next word, “Lord.” This man does not try to soft-sell his condition. He doesn’t say “Yes, sure. I’ve got a little leprosy, but on the whole, I think I’m a pretty healthy person.” We certainly hear much of that mindset today as sinners flatter and deceive themselves, convinced their sinfulness isn’t as foul and vile as the Bible says it is.
The leper comes in full confession and acknowledgment of his uncleanness, just as the truly repentant sinner must come to Christ, not making excuses for his sin, but openly confessing that he is totally corrupted, recognizing that he has no hope for forgiveness apart from the mercy of God. And so he falls down, bowed in abject humility, and begs God for undeserved grace.
3. The Sinner’s Confidence
But in one sense, this is not supposed to happen. According to the law of Moses, this leper shouldn’t be approaching anyone, let alone a rabbi. What drives his holy recklessness? Consider the sinners’ confidence. Verse 12, “He fell on his face and implored him saying, ‘Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean.”
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Inside the Underground Railroad Out of Afghanistan
I struggled with this intensely, especially after reading hundreds of emails with personal pleas, and poring over documentation of entire Afghan families with real faces and identities. I could not do it. But I had to do it. Along with my co-worker, Faisal Al Mutar, I ultimately did pick just five based on a basic evaluation of relative risk and ease of extraction. The moral weight of such a decision was overwhelming. We should have never been in a position to make such a call in the first place.
On Saturday night I had just sat down to have a drink with a friend when he got a call. He apologized for having to take it, but it was urgent: it was about the Afghan women’s orchestra. They were stuck in Kabul and desperate to get out. He was involved in the effort to extract them.
Twenty minutes later, we ordered another martini.
I’ve been thinking a lot these past two weeks about luck. The luck of where we are born. The luck of the parents we are born to. And, right now, the luck of who we know.
Knowing — or having proximity to someone who knows my well-placed friend, a veteran of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan — is a matter of life or death for untold numbers of Afghans.
The question of who will live and who will die — part of the Unetaneh Tokef prayer that all Jews say on the high holy days, which are just around the corner — is supposed to be in the hands of God. But right now, for so many Afghans, the answer to that question is in the hands of the Taliban. The chance to live relies on Americans: those who have the luck to live in freedom and those who are determined to right what the Biden administration has gotten so horribly wrong.
Melissa Chen is one of those people.
Melissa co-founded an organization called Ideas Beyond Borders, which digitizes and translates English books and articles into Arabic. And not just any books: Books like Orwell’s ‘“Nineteen Eighty-Four,” Steven Pinker’s “Enlightenment Now,” and a graphic novel based on John Stuart Mill’s “On Liberty.” Works that promote reason, pluralism and liberty. Suffice it to say the translators she works with in places like Egypt, Syria and Iraq do so at great risk.
Because of her connections in the Middle East — and because she is the kind of person who lives by her principles — it did not surprise me that she found herself involved in the efforts to save Afghans from the horrors of the Taliban. She shares some of the details of those remarkable efforts in the essay below.
The operation to get American allies out of Kabul has been dubbed the Underground Railroad and Digital Dunkirk. But I can’t help but think of the MS St. Louis. That’s the ship that came to this country in 1939 packed with more 900 Jews fleeing Germany. To our country’s eternal shame we turned the ship around and into the arms of the Third Reich. — BW
For the past two weeks I have been part of a 21st century Underground Railroad. We are a ragtag group — combat veterans, human rights activists, ex-special forces, State Department officials, intelligence agents, members of Congress, non-profit organizers, and private individuals with the resources to charter planes and helicopters — who have stepped into the vacuum left by the Biden administration.
Today the Pentagon announced the end of our 20-year war in Afghanistan. But there are hundreds of Americans and an estimated 250,000 Afghan allies who remain trapped there. Many of these Afghans, due to the nature of their work, their religious beliefs, their minority ethnic status or even just their appearance (say, sporting tattoos anywhere on their bodies), see escape as a matter of life and death. As Kabul descended into chaos, their pleas for help leaving were largely met with bureaucratic silence.
The operation to save them began before the Taliban were seen riding bumper cars in amusement parks and occupying the presidential palace. Many veterans and civilians who had deep ties to the country were under no illusions about the nature of the Taliban and what a deal with them would mean for the people who had worked with the U.S.
Long before Kabul fell, I noticed that military friends started using Facebook and Twitter to figure out how to help their “terps” — interpreters, linguists and translators who served alongside them during their tours in Afghanistan. WhatsApp groups, email threads, and ad hoc task forces with their own central command centers sprang up spontaneously. Google docs were cobbled together to compile and share resources for individuals assisting their Afghan friends in their evacuation and eventual resettlement. No one was relying on a White House that had voluntarily closed Bagram Airbase or a commander-in-chief who, as of last month, was assuring the American public that a Taliban takeover “is not inevitable.”
No One Left Behind, a charity that was founded to help interpreters through the Special Immigrant Visa (SIV) program and resettle them in the U.S., has been at the vanguard of these efforts. Human Rights Foundation and Human Rights First were very effective in helping activists and dissidents secure political asylum. AfghanEvac, a self-organized group of beltway insiders and outsiders, have been logistical ninjas, chartering planes and requesting landing rights in neighboring countries. The Commercial Task Force set up shop in a conference room at the Willard InterContinental Hotel in Washington, D.C., and has so far helped evacuate 5,000 Afghan refugees. Republican Sen. Tom Cotton set up a war room office to take over the duties and responsibilities that the State Department had abdicated. Democratic Rep. Andy Kim had his office set up an email account to assist those seeking help evacuating allies.
And then there were the extraction teams like Task Force Pineapple and Task Force Dunkirk, informal, volunteer groups of U.S. veterans who took matters in their own hands to launch dangerous secret missions to save hundreds of at-risk Afghan allies and their families.
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Theology and the Peace of the PCA: Lessons from John Webster
Written by Albert D. Taglieri |
Monday, July 4, 2022
Scripture is the source of the church’s life. The church does not precede Scripture but arises in response to Scripture. The church obeys and preaches the Scriptures, not judges them. While the church hears Scripture, Scripture stands in judgment over the church. If controversy is churchly, then it must be characterized by Scripture, for attention to Scripture defines the nature of church life.Introduction
Church meetings can be contentious. When controversial topics are up for it is worthwhile to reflect on an essay by John Webster contained in his book The Domain of the Word, entitled “Theology and The Peace Of The Church.”[1]
Webster consistently addressed topics by following the “material order” of theology: God in himself prior to God’s works. Here he moves starting from God through creation, redemption, church, theological reason, finally to controversy. This ensures that the nature and conduct of controversy is rightly understood by its place within God’s economy. The result is an extended theological meditation for approaching controversy.
I aim to highlight four lessons from Webster’s essay for consideration. First: Webster views peace primarily as an indicative reality, accomplished by God—not merely as an imperative. Second: Webster articulates a distinction between sinful anger and faithful zeal. Third: Webster distinguishes between controversy within the fellowship of the saints and sinful conflict. Fourth and finally: Webster emphasizes that Scripture is the rule of controversy.
In doing this, while I have my own perspectives on the various controversial topics, my goal is to avoid explicitly advocating any specific position—though I will use some of the topics for discussion. Rather, my goal is to use Webster as a source of reflection on the proper conduct of controversy.
Lesson 1: Peace as Indicative
Webster consistently emphasizes God’s sovereignty. The opening line illustrates: “in order to speak about conflict…theology must first speak about peace” (150). Why? Because peace is the condition, established by God, in which conflict occurs. It is therefore both real and primary. And it starts within God: “Theology must first speak about the God of peace” before it can speak of peace in creation which God establishes (150).
To explain the sovereign reality of God’s peace, Webster tells us that “God is both pattern and principle of creaturely peace” (153). Many acknowledge that God is the pattern of peace, but we must recall that he is also the principle, or the ground and cause, of peace. To see him as merely an example which we must actuate is to follow Pelagianism, where Christ is merely an assistant to our efforts. But to see him as the principle of peace acknowledges the reality that God creates peace, and we do not achieve it by our efforts. Created peace flows out of the fullness of God’s own life: “his peace is neither enhanced by created peace nor diminished by its absence” (154).
If God creates peace, and it is therefore fundamental to the nature of the church, why do we see conflict? Because peace unfolds in creation: “God secures the peaceful movement of created being” towards perfection (156). Webster reminds us that God’s peace is eschatological – it is both already (real) and not yet (perfected). So when Col. 3:5 commands “let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts,” the precept “is directed, not to making peace real, but to making it visible” (159). Conflict is then merely “the lingering shadow which the rising sun has yet to chase away” (162). To truly know and see this reality requires us to acknowledge God’s work as primary, and ours as derivative.
So what bearing does this have for our conduct of theological controversy? It means that we may conduct controversy humbly and gently, even while passionately. The work of redemption does not hang on the outcome of our controversy. God’s action frees us from the responsibility (and stress) of guaranteeing a lack of conflict, as well as from guaranteeing perfection in the church. This actually enables us to more honestly approach disagreements. We don’t need to cover over disagreements for the sake of maintaining peace, because God’s peace is already real. Only by acknowledging and addressing disagreements can God’s peace truly be seen.
God’s peace in the church also gives us confidence. Controversy which is undertaken honestly, for “the furtherance of communion, not its erosion” trusts God to settle disagreements (168). In this, all parties to a conflict can acknowledge that they are seeking obedience to God and peace with each other: even as that requires that God move them to repentance. This position and intention is not victory at any costs, but rather obedience and love, preventing “self-conceit, mutual provocation and envy” (169). Controversy is no place for pride or achievement, but a place for repentance. It is not a place for self-justification, but for obedience. God has spoken. Controversy listens.
Lesson 2: The Character of Zeal
Much of Webster’s essay is taken up with the previous theme. But as one of the final movements in his argument, he includes a discussion of the proper attitude for theological controversy. Who is the peaceful theologian? Out of inner peace (derived from Christ’s rule in the heart), the theologian is not disturbed or agitated by his conversation partners. The contrast between anger and zeal explains this. Evil anger follows the passions – it is moved by one’s opponent and reactive. Zeal “is cooler and more objective,” even while an intense and deep spirit of opposition to evil (167).
Zeal can be corrupted by either deficiency or excess. Deficiency in zeal is “indifference, weariness” which leads the church into error (167). It too easily declares a false peace by finding points of unity. But this is a self-established peace, not a God-established one—and a minimalistic one at that. Zeal requires controversy to occur, that God’s truth may be obeyed.
Zeal in excess however, is also dangerous. It too quickly becomes unrighteous anger. Zeal may be tempered from excess by reinforcing the first theme: peace is from God. If it is accomplished by God, then zeal is not for making peace, but for showing peace. Webster prompts reflection by a helpful and thought-provoking, statement: “Zeal in a world in which God’s peaceful judgement is utterly real is a very different undertaking from zeal in a world where evil will not be stopped unless I shout it down” (168). By refusing to concretely define the difference, he invites us to ponder it with Scripture.
Zeal must not let divergences in opinion “become weapons of the will” which divide the unity of Christ (169). Zeal must start from the position of peace, and therefore must recognize that God’s peace is established not just between him and man, but also as “a society in which hostility is put to an end and peace is made” (157). Controversy is conducted within the fraternal love of the church.
Lesson 3: Controversy, not Conflict
This churchly nature of controversy is one main way in which Webster differentiates between “controversy” and “conflict,” which is a sinful fight for dominance over others. This theme comes into focus especially throughout Webster’s five rules “for edifying controversy” at the end of his essay (168). In fact, the first four rules all in some way highlight this churchly nature of controversy.
Perhaps the most important thing to be kept in mind about the churchly nature of controversy is Webster’s third rule, which distinguishes “divergence of opinion” from “divergence of will” (169). Are there “fundamental divergences about the Gospel” at stake in the controversy? The situation is either within the church, or a disagreement concerning what the church is. Only in the latter situation, where there are such “fundamental divergences about the Gospel” does controversy leave the bonds of a united will (169).
This provides an easy temptation in two ways though. Certainly, some issues in current controversies can be seen as affecting the Gospel. Does the divergence on the issue of sanctification and homosexuality constitute such an issue? Or is there a more moderate diagnosis whereby a “fundamental divergence” can be distinguished from what is correctible error? Certainly none of us is perfect, and this is a question that must be decided by every member of the controversy. The temptation to over-diagnose an error into a charge of heresy must be combatted. So must (and oftentimes more) the temptation to under-diagnose an error. Surely the principles of Presbyterianism, while allowing certain latitudes, are not in any way “latitudinarian.”
Perhaps a few questions about divergences can help to illuminate the nature of certain controversies. First: how is the Gospel articulated? And then, secondly: how is obedience to the Gospel instructed in pastoral counsel? A difference in articulation is no doubt cause for concern. But our sin often implies our failure to practice what we preach. Thus, agreement in articulation might camouflage a practical difference. Since divergence is not only in opinion, but may also be in will, the second question further illuminates divergences. What pastoral counsel is given, that characterizes the shape of obedience to the Gospel? Is it pastoral counsel which declares the perfection of God’s redemption, and exhorts trusting him alone in faithful use of his means of grace? Or is it pastoral counsel which declares a possible redemption, and encourages a routine of works and achievement, looking to works as the sign of acceptability before God?
While this may not be a total divergence in will, there is no doubt that it tends towards one. The question of sanctification is certainly important, and requires characterization. But there should be no doubt that some other questions, such as the composition of the PCA’s Standing Judicial Commission (SJC), do not even approach being divergences about the Gospel—even while remaining important questions. It is less a matter of what obedience is, than it is about the precise manner which best actualizes such (agreed upon) obedience.
One final thing may be mentioned under this heading:
If controversy is within the church, then this shapes church discipline as controversy. Discipline is not to be regarded as an evil process. Too often, instead of distinguishing between controversy (good and rightly conducted) and conflict (the evil corruption of controversy), we are prone to view discipline as a “necessary evil.” But if it is necessary, it cannot be evil because evil can never be necessary. Conflict is sin, but controversy is the right response to sin’s presence and work. Discipline’s reality is not necessarily a pronouncement of sin on anyone involved. It is the context in which such a judgment, as to whether or not there is sin, may be made in obedience to Scripture.
Lesson 4: The Rule of Controversy
Webster’s final rule follows from the previous themes. Controversy is ruled by Scripture. He challenges the church of today: “Once confidence in the power of Scripture to determine matters in the church is lost, the politics of the saints quickly slides into agonistic practices in which we expect no divine comfort or direction” (170).
One may see a similar principle in the Westminster Confession of Faith: “The supreme judge by which all controversies of religion are to be determined, and all decrees of councils, opinions of ancient writers, doctrines of men, and private spirits, are to be examined, and in whose sentence we are to rest, can be no other but the Holy Spirit speaking in the Scripture.”[2]
The Scripture is God’s instrument of revelation and rule. Because God’s peace is the primary reality, it is only seen and actualized by attention to his Word. This attention is given by submission to Scripture. Controversy can only make God’s peace visible if it is focused on hearing and obeying Scripture.
The Scripture is what zeal loves. Zeal does not respond to offense, nor even to error considered in itself. Zeal responds only from love of Scripture, which grounds it. Zeal does not guard my own position or rightness. It guards obedience and submission to God’s Word. And so, when in controversy, zeal focuses on Scripture instead of on persons or secular philosophies.
Finally, Scripture is the source of the church’s life. The church does not precede Scripture but arises in response to Scripture. The church obeys and preaches the Scriptures, not judges them. While the church hears Scripture, Scripture stands in judgment over the church. If controversy is churchly, then it must be characterized by Scripture, for attention to Scripture defines the nature of church life.
Conclusion
God is the God of peace. Let us give attention to him and his work above our own, trusting him to resolve our controversies by listening to his Word alone in conducting them.
Albert D. Taglieri is a member of Reformed Presbyterian Church of San Antonio.
[1] John Webster, “Theology and the peace of the church” in The Domain of the Word, 150-170. Further citations from this essay use parenthetical page numbers.
[2] WCF 1.10
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