The story of oppression cannot be told with reference to one race, one sex, one class, one nation, or one civilization. The problem of injustice goes deeper, past the identity obsessions of our age, all the way to our identity as fallen human beings.

As Americans continue to debate critical race theory (CRT) and its place in our schools and our national self-understanding, the discussion in some Christian circles has turned to questions about possible similarities between a Reformed doctrine of sin and CRT’s emphasis on the pervasiveness of oppressive systems and structures.

For example, in a new book, Reformed Public Theology, one contributor argues that “Reformed theologians describe the pervasive effects of sin while using comprehensive terms strikingly similar to CRT.” The author then quotes from the famous Dutch statesman and theologian Abraham Kuyper:

“The stronger, almost without exception, have always known how to bend every custom and magisterial ordinance so that the profit is theirs and the loss belongs to the weaker. Men did not literally eat each other like cannibals, but the more powerful exploited the weaker by means of a weapon which there was no defense.”

I have already seen these lines cited many times on social media, to the effect that, like CRT, a Reformed doctrine of sin leads us to believe in the near inevitability of systemic injustice. What should we make of this argument?

An initial response is to admit that powerful people often do bend customs and ordinances to favor their interests. The weak often are mistreated by those who have the connections and influence to get away with it. In American history, this has meant that whites too often protected their power by mistreating those who were not white. Even in a country deeply influenced by Christianity, oppression is more common than we would like to think.

So far, so Reformed.

But there are problems with connecting the ideology of CRT with the doctrine of the Reformed tradition.

For starters, it’s strange that Kuyperians—who talk so much about redeeming culture, transforming the city, and renewing the arts—can sound so defeatist when talking about the systems and customs of Europeans and their descendants. If the leading proponents of CRT are to be believed, centuries of profound Christian influence in the West have produced little more than a stream of atrocities and injustices. So much for Christ the transformer of culture.

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Restoration is a time when Christ will wipe every tear from every eye; “there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” It is there that the work of redemption will be complete. Shalom will be completely restored.

Previously, we have discussed God’s original creative vision for shalom in community and how the fall distorted that vision. Today, we’ll examine how redemption, the third chapter of the four-chapter gospel, gives us a glimpse of the way things could or should be.
Redemption—Grace and a Taste of Shalom
After the fall, God did not abandon his creation and the human race. He did not leave us to die in the sin and misery that resulted from Adam’s original rebellion. Instead, out of his great love and mercy, God delivered his people from sin and brought them into salvation by grace through faith, administered by his son Jesus Christ. “God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom. 5:8, ESV). In our sin and wretchedness, we deserve death—the penalty for our sin—but instead, God graciously gave us the free gift of eternal life through his son, Jesus Christ (Rom. 6:23).
Although we walked away from God, he still wants to bring us back to himself and restore shalom. Redemption is necessary to prepare for the full restoration of shalom, which was always God’s intention for his creation. In this redemption chapter of the four-part gospel, we often refer to shalom as flourishing. But we do not experience the fullness of shalom that awaits the return of Christ at the end of this age. And although we have received the fullness of salvation, we still live in a fallen world. We are still exposed to and suffer from the pain and heartbreak of the sin around us. As believers, we long for the return of Christ to finish the work he started two thousand years ago and consummate his kingdom.
Already, But Not Yet
Theologians call this reality the “already/not yet.” In a sense, it is the overlap of two ages: the present age of sin and death established at the fall and the coming age of Christ’s comprehensive reign. It is the “age to come” breaking into the present age. During Jesus’ time here on earth, he established his kingdom through his life, death, and resurrection (Mark 1:15; Matt. 12:28; Luke 17:20–21).
This “already/not yet” distinction helps us make sense of the Bible. The “already” refers to things like my salvation that are already true, while the “not yet” points to things like my sanctification that is not yet fully realized. There are many other instances of these apparent contradictions in scripture that are explained by understanding the “already/not yet” distinction.
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God is at work in this age to bring about good things; that God is working all things out for an ultimate good—including final justice as well as eternal blessing of those who trust in Christ. But the Bible does not teach that this is absolutely the best of all possible worlds. It does not present a rational ‘theodicy’ which completely explains and justifies the origin of evil and the full extent of suffering throughout time. In its exploration of the problems of evil and suffering in books like Job and Ecclesiastes, the Bible recognises a degree of mystery and disorder in our experience of pain, suffering, evil and injustice.

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters. (Romans 8:28–29)
A semi-regular editorial note I make on submissions to TGCA is related to pastoral application of the sovereignty of God. It is comforting to know that our lives are not ultimately in chaotic flux. Our loving heavenly Father is in control of all things, perfectly able to bring about all of his good purposes. This gives believers peace in uncertainty, contentment in suffering and great confidence in preaching and prayer.
But even great writers and preachers can claim too much of this truth, over-applying it in ways that go beyond the Scriptures. For example, in his Morning and Evening, Charles Spurgeon writes:
Remember this, had any condition been better for you than the one in which you are, divine love would have put you there.
And in Trusting God, Jerry Bridges writes:
He has a purpose in every pain He brings or allows in our lives. We can be sure that in some way He intends it for our profit and His glory.
At first glance, these seem like heart-warming applications of Romans 8:28–29. The difference lies in the additional rhetorical flourishes and theological claims they are making. Spurgeon explicitly claims that the circumstances a believer finds themselves in are the optimal circumstances for them. This is saying much more than Romans 8 or Ephesians 1: not simply that God is working through all things for good to bring about his purposes, but that each individual circumstance throughout time and space is the very best for each individual believer. And Bridges seems to be ascribing particular purpose for each individual pain: a kind of customised, bespoke program of education and sanctification.
“The Best of All Possible Worlds”
Such good-intentioned pastoral and devotional application has more in common with Voltaire’s Professor Pangloss than the biblical presentation of the sovereignty of God. In his book Candide, Voltaire mocks inadequate explanations of the presence of evil. The character of Pangloss is his mouthpiece of rationalist philosophy:
Pangloss taught metaphysico-theologico-cosmo-codology. He could prove wonderfully that there is no effect without a cause and that, in this best of all possible worlds, His Lordship the Baron’s castle was the most beautiful of castles and Madam the best of all baronesses.
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