Strange Lyre: The Idols of Intensity and Extemporaneity

Errors are only compelling to the degree that they contain some vital truth, now heavily distorted. The truth is that both extemporaneity and some form of intense spiritual experience are part of true, living Christianity. The problem is when the experience of intensity is sought for its own sake, and when the method of extemporaneity becomes a tool to manipulate the Spirit.
A polarised debate goes on between different stripes of Christians over the place of experience in Christianity. One side asserts that experiential faith (what the Puritans used to call “experimental religion”) is fundamental to a living, supernaturally-empowered relationship with Christ. The other side asserts that experiential religion is of passing interest, for spiritual experiences range from the genuinely God-given to the wildly false and even demonic, and vary widely among different personality-types. Ultimately, say these Christians, what matters is allegiance to truth, both in belief and behaviour.
In moments of clarity, we agree with both sides, because we are aware of what each side is against: dead formalism (“a straight as a gun barrel theologically, and as empty as one spiritually”, said one) and untethered spiritual adventures (“glandular religion”, as coined by another). Pentecostalism’s strongest selling point has been the supposed vividness of its promised supernatural experiences, both in corporate and private worship. The idea of direct revelation, ecstatic utterances, and marvellous deliverances present a kind of Christianity that appears enviably immediate, sensorily overpowering, and almost irrefutably persuasive. Particularly for Christians coming from a religious background of set forms, liturgical routines, and even unregenerate leadership, the contrast appears to be one of old and false versus new and true.
Sadly, many true believers within Pentecostalism find out within a short space that the promise of overwhelming spiritual experiences begins to lack lustre after a time, and the corporate worship in pursuit of spontaneous spiritual highs can become as tedious and predictable as a service read verbatim from a prayer book. Pentecostalism’s pursuit of intensity and spontaneity in worship turns out to be an idol that both cheats and forsakes its worshippers.
Deeply embedded in the Pentecostal psyche is the idea that the Spirit of God is wedded to spontaneity and freedom of form. It is the very “openness” to His movements, unrestricted by an order of service or set forms of prayer, that supposedly invites His unpredictable arrival, manifested in intense, even ecstatic, spiritual experience. Being spontaneous and extemporaneous demonstrates “openness” and “receptivity”, whereas insisting upon our own forms quenches what the Spirit may wish to do.
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On Naivete and Moral Numbness: A Rejoinder to Russell Moore
If things such as Moore’s article represent the best that public theology can offer, then perhaps that project simply needs to be abandoned. For it seems to me that it entails conceding much ground to our opponents (who are craftier than we, Lk. 16:8) and attempting to put our beliefs in the language of our wider society, with the result that they get twisted out of shape and end up being largely shorn of their usefulness. They lose their distinctly Christian character and become mere moralism or rather banal political and cultural prescriptions, and frequently they contradict other statements of Scripture.
In a previous article I asserted that it is improper for those who have no acquaintance with the survivors of the Nashville Massacre to discuss that sad affair. I reiterate that now, but I have since stumbled across Russell Moore’s opinion upon the affair, which justifies a response, albeit one that seeks to elide as much as possible the matter of the late outrage itself. I offer this response because Moore’s article represents an attempt to engage the cultural moment that, like many others, simply fails.
If Moore had contented himself with saying that hatred is wrong and must be mortified lest it lead farther down the path of strife and bloodshed, his case would have thoroughly accorded with Christ’s teaching and been a useful reminder in a society riven with quarreling. Regrettably, Moore did not limit himself to that orthodox position but accompanied it with political ruminations that were mediocre and naive at best, and which gave practical aid to leftism at worst. Those are hard words, but they are given, not to disparage the gentleman, but because his recent article does not represent one of his finer contributions to evangelical discourse.
There was a time when he was conspicuous in arguing that the cult of personality and character of a certain businessman-come-presidential candidate were damaging the church’s witness, a position which required much fortitude and exposed Moore to much opprobrium – and in which he had a fair point. He was not alone in the wilderness of evangelical dissent from Trump, but of that set he was amongst the most vigorous and steadfast. But like many of Trump’s critics, Moore reacted by moving away from previous associates and institutional affiliations and to a position to the left of most evangelicals.[1]
He begins his article by taking a view of the recent outrage that regards it as representative of a larger problem of national concern, the same basic view of the left, whose utopianism aspires for universal reign: ‘injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere,’ as one of its trite and dubious sayings puts it. If an evil thing is done in one place it is not the concern merely of those who have been affected by it, but of everyone, even strangers and outsiders who have no familiarity with the matter, place, or people involved; who live in cultures far different; who cannot directly do anything in response; or who gain nothing by knowing about it.
There is an alternate perspective on such matters, though it is practically unheard in our public discourse. This perspective holds that the view above entails ignorant, arrogant, and feckless (if well-meaning) meddling in the affairs of others and madness in one’s own mind. It holds that the mind and heart have a very limited capacity for grief and that, as creatures bound by space and time, humans are ordained by God to live in one place (Acts 17:26) and to concern themselves primarily with its affairs. In practice this means taking a vital interest only in one’s closest associates (family, friends, immediate neighbors) and affairs (work, community, etc.), and taking a vaguer interest the farther one moves out from the realm of personal familiarity. It also means refusing to take an interest in matters which one cannot control and the knowledge of which serves only to make one miserable.
Moore believes that we have become numb to grievous evil. But for many of us it is not apathy but prudence that is in view: if one disregards all limits of time, space, and personal familiarity and thinks that he is obligated to lament and ‘do something’ about every evil in the world he will find, if he is consistent, that he has no time for anything else and that he is perpetually miserable because of the difficulties of life. But of course, we do not lament every great evil, but only the few which the media bring to our attention because of their own business and political interests; and even being limited to this small number of incidents to bewail, there are multitudes in our society who are in continual despair because such things predominate in their minds.
Again, knowing one’s limits and guarding one’s heart from being overwhelmed by grief is not reprehensible apathy but good sense. As Proverbs 4:23 puts it, “Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life.” If one allows those springs to be poisoned with despair and unrealistic thinking foisted upon him by the often-misleading narratives of popular media (of all factions), he will not be able to love or aid those nearest to him, but will become morose and withdrawn, wallowing in misery and bewailing life. Moore himself is eager to discourage “resignation and cynicism, where we shrug our shoulders in an attitude of ‘What can you do?’”
And yet by urging people to care about things that are outside of their proper realm of responsibility, Moore is actually feeding a destructive social phenomenon that is filling our society with miserable people who are neglecting their actual social relations and responsibilities because they have allowed themselves to be incapacitated with worry related to events far removed from their control. And it is important to note as well that there are several other things which are not apathy that might appear in such cases. Love of liberty, distrust of shameless political opportunists, a refusal to panic or to act in haste, and respect for the dead, and grieving all come to mind in this respect.
When it comes to particulars Moore stumbles badly by asking “can we not all agree that something is seriously wrong when a person with this many “red flags” can purchase multiple weapons of that capacity without anyone noticing?” No, we most certainly cannot all agree on that point, and it is an example of that naivete and giving practical aid to leftism that I mentioned earlier. America has 330 million residents, quite a lot of whom have some of the characteristics considered red flags for violent behavior. A government large enough to monitor all those people would be enormous and expensive and would have wide-ranging powers that could be easily abused at the expense of long-established rights and legal processes. Just whom does Moore believe are likely to be the foremost targets of such a government, given the speed with which our nation is turning hostile toward our faith and the zeal and frequency with which those who most hate us attain to power and government employment?
In fact, we have such a government already, and it went from combating Al Qaeda to investigating people who get mad at school board meetings in the span of twenty years. Yet Moore wants an even bigger government with even more powers – for that is the practical effect of his argument, whether or not he realizes it. Also, it is a material fact of great importance that the vast, vast, vast – and I might justly write ‘vast’ about nine hundred times here – vast majority of people with red flags do not commit acts of mass murder, nor even contemplate them.
Moore then engages in some cultural commentary that asserts we have a culture in which opponents are needlessly regarded as “an existential threat to everything that ‘people like us’ (however that’s defined) hold dear.” This fails insofar as it presents a real phenomenon as an absurd exaggeration. No doubt there is much irresponsible hyperbole in our political rhetoric, but there are people whose desired policies do pose an existential threat to certain classes of people and their values. There are many people who wish to disarm the citizenry, eliminate the police, and abolish cash bail and incarceration for many offenses. There are people who wish to crush all dissent from the normalization of sexual debauchery with criminal penalties, and others who are allowing men to compete in women’s sports. All those things represent existential threats to gun owners, police officers, prison guards, bail bondsmen, people with traditional morals, and female athletes; and other examples could be provided. Moore is right that such things do not justify murder (nothing does), but his argument would be better if it remained in the realm of morality and did not mistakenly try to deny what is real in at least some cases.
Moore stumbles similarly when he says we should “put aside our theatrical hatred . . . to ask, ‘How can we stop this?’” Much contemporary hatred is not theatrical but, alas, real. And being real it does not lend itself to the “genuine discussions on public policy, justice, and safety” that Moore believes are needed. Such notions are naive in the extreme. The left does not want discussion but compliance; even when it says it wants dialogue what it really means is that it wants everyone else to keep quiet and nod their heads in agreement with everything it says. ‘Join our revolution – or else’ is the whole animus and manner of its public demeanor, as evidenced by the zeal with which it utters absurd slanders like ‘silence is violence,’ a bit of false testimony in which it accuses widows who knit at home of being as morally corrupt as highwaymen for not protesting in the streets.
One might be forgiven for thinking that the events of the last several days suffice to demonstrate the left’s essential incivility. It brooks no dissent and has no qualms about using behavior that is meant to silence, intimidate, or defame its opponents. Yet Moore would have us attempt dialogue with such people, as though prudence fails to commend refusing to interact with such people who only desire a pretext for forcing their will upon others (Prov. 9:7; 23:9; 26:4; Matt. 7:6).
If things such as Moore’s article represent the best that public theology can offer, then perhaps that project simply needs to be abandoned. For it seems to me that it entails conceding much ground to our opponents (who are craftier than we, Lk. 16:8) and attempting to put our beliefs in the language of our wider society, with the result that they get twisted out of shape and end up being largely shorn of their usefulness. They lose their distinctly Christian character and become mere moralism or rather banal political and cultural prescriptions, and frequently they contradict other statements of Scripture. Jesus did not come into the world to engage society or reform it, but to call his elect out of darkness (Lk. 12:13-15; 13:1-5; 17:20-21; 19:10; Jn. 6:15, 35-59; 18:36; Rom. 14:17).
And as I read Moore’s conclusion that “it’s never right to assume this is just the way things must be,” the words of our Lord echo through my mind that he “did not come to bring peace, but a sword” (Matt. 10:34) and that we “will be hated by all nations” for his sake (24:9). And with great somberness of heart do I recollect our call to endurance, that “if anyone is to be taken captive, to captivity he goes; if anyone is to be slain with the sword, with the sword must he be slain (Rev. 13:9). Contra Moore, whose article savors of the notion that if only we are winsome and reasonable our opponents will join us in mutual good will and meaningful social improvement, Christ’s aim is not for us to improve our society with good faith discussions about public safety. In his providence he is sovereign over all things, and he intends for many of us to suffer hatred for his sake (Matt 10:16-39; Jn. 15:18-16:4). He has sent us out as sheep among wolves (Matt. 10:16), with the caution to be “wise as serpents.” I fear that in articles such as Moore’s it is the sheepishness that predominates, not the serpentine wisdom; and that will not suffice to protect us from those who would devour us.
Tom Hervey is a member of Woodruff Road Presbyterian Church, Five Forks (Simpsonville), SC. The opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not of necessity reflect those of his church or its leadership or other members. He welcomes comments at the email address provided with his name.
[1] In truth, Moore and other prominent evangelicals were already to the left of most of us before 2016, but since that time they seem to have moved yet farther in that direction.
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The Curse Under Our Breath
Paul describes the luminary life of trusting saints; a life that shines in a dark and thankless world (Romans 1:21). Blamelessness, innocence, proving ourselves to be children of God—all by a supernatural life of worship instead of bleating.
At first, it seems a little thing,A want unmet, a prayer unwinged.Voiceless, it interrogates the King,When sounded, Lucifer sings.
Grumbling.
If you do not stand at the gate armed with sword and spear, if you keep down the drawbridge and fail to post men on the watchtower, gurgles and grunts will occupy your heart. Self-love and unbelief have a fruitful marriage, multiplying little moans and murmurs as rabbits in the forest or as crabgrass in the front lawn.
What is in a grumble? The sound, unheard in heaven, is the heart shaking its head, rolling its eyes, cursing under its breath. It is the seemingly harmless exhale of several respectable sins—ingratitude, thanklessness, discontent. It’s a controlled rage, an itchy contempt, the muffled echo of Satan’s dismay. A broken tune. It can be voiced in a sigh or strangle a praise. It is the cough of a sick heart.
We overhear these pitiful pleas all over the New Testament. The volume turns up with the crowds and soon-to-be apostate disciples of John 6, and in episodes with the envious scribes and Pharisees. Yet New Testament authors often bend the ear backward to hear the mumblings of an ancient people. None better expose the horror of this muffled mutiny than ancient Israel.
The apostle Paul writes,
We must not put Christ to the test, as some of them did and were destroyed by serpents, nor grumble, as some of them did and were destroyed by the Destroyer. Now these things happened to them as an example, but they were written down for our instruction, on whom the end of the ages has come.(1 Corinthians 10:9–11)
God’s Spirit records Israel’s history in the wilderness to teach us about this too-easily-committed and too-easily-overlooked sin of grumbling.
Lessons from the Mumblers
If we had to venture a guess as to who the first grumblers mentioned in Scripture would be, could any man or angel have suspected it to be God’s own people, and that right after their wondrous redemption from Egypt?
Ten plagues have fallen on Pharoah’s defiance. His army and chariots now lie at the bottom of the sea, a calm settles upon the water’s surface—Israel is free. Uproar sounds in the heavens, and praise to God extends to earth. Music sheets are passed around beside the Red Sea, they begin,
I will sing to [Yahweh] for he has triumphed gloriously;the horse and his rider he has thrown into the sea.(Exodus 15:1)
Who could have guessed that these same tongues would rot into a chorus of murmurs by the end of the same chapter? Satan’s song intrudes. Lucifer’s lyrics, once sung, get stuck in their heads. Trial after trial—needing water, then food, then water again—leads to more and more muttering. Consider, then, just a few lessons from the all too familiar sounds of Exodus 15–16.
God deprives us to see what’s inside us.
God led Israel around the Philistines, in front of the Red Sea to bait Pharoah, and through the Red Sea, and now to the wilderness of Shur. Millions marched waterless. One day turned to two turned to three. Finally, in the distance, water. They bend down to drink—yuck. Dying of thirst, they spit out the sour beverage. They named the place “Marah,” meaning bitterness (Exodus 15:22–23). We finally find water and it is undrinkable? Is this where trusting the Lord gets you? For the first time in the Hebrew Bible we read, “And the people grumbled against Moses, saying, ‘What shall we drink?’” (Exodus 15:24).
And then, as he did with the water, so God did with their stomachs: “he tested them” (verse 25). He “let them hunger” and led the people to depend upon him that whole forty years to see what was in their hearts (Deuteronomy 8:2–3). And he found Marah in his people—out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth sighs. When you find yourself kneeling by the bitter waters of God’s providence, what does God hear from you? Cries to your heavenly Father for help and mercy, or grunts against an unreliable god?
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Heir of All Things
As heir, the Son is reigning over all things now. The kings of earth rise and fall but the Son on the throne reigns forever. The Christian rejoices because the power of the wicked one is defeated (Psalm 110); death is conquered by the heir who died and rose again (Revelation 1:17-19); the Son is exalted; He has a name above every name; and He is soon to be publicly revealed in glory before all the earth (Philippians 2:9-11).
God, who at various times and in various ways spoke in time past to the fathers by the prophets, has in these last days spoken to us by His Son, whom He has appointed heir of all things…
Hebrews 1:1-2a
“My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge…” Hosea’s words are as fitting now as they were in the Old Testament. Jesus’ name is used frequently but few know Him. Many are perishing for lack of knowledge. How can they believe in Him who they do not know? There is a famine of the Word of God and the effects are all around us.
God in His infinite mercy does not leave us merely with the name of His messenger in these last days, He tells us who His Son is. God reveals seven perfections concerning the Son in Hebrews 1:2-3 followed by seven Old Testament confirmations concerning the glory of the Son. Seven being the number of completeness and perfection in the Bible the Lord is demonstrating the perfection and completeness of the Son. There is no other Savior to look for, the perfect Savior has come. The first perfection of the Son is that He is the Heir of all things.
First, we must deny that any glory is given to the Son which He did not have before His incarnation. The Son as the second person of the Trinity is always full of glory, from eternity to the present (John 17:4).
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