Robert E. Webber, in the first chapter of his book, Who Gets to Narrate the World?, discusses how the North American Church has lost its grip on the fullness of the biblical story and instead has only concentrated on various small pieces. It cannot see the whole picture, the all-encompassing narrative. He points out the following:

God's story suffers from reductionism and privatism. The failure to put the whole biblical picture together is a result of the [Church's] cultural accomodationism. Specifically, it is the problem of reductionism. The Christian faith has been reduced to a few doctrines of self-interest. In my own background, my dad and his pastor friends concentrated almost exclusively on five doctrines: sin, sacrificial atonement, conversion, sanctification and premillennialism. What was missing was a thoroughgoing connection between creation, incarnation and the re-creative acts of God (such as the resurrection and restoration of creation). My dad, though a devoted Christian and a passionate preacher, lost the fullness of the Christian story because he created a story around five pieces of the puzzle instead of the whole picture. The Christian faith was reduced to the problem of my sin, the work of Christ for me, the necessity of my conversion and the expectation of my faithfulness to live like a Christian. I was made the center of the story. I needed to invite Jesus into my life and my journey so he would walk with me and bless my life and my ministry.

God calls us to His story. By contrast, the original story, the one delivered by the apostles to their successors in the early Church, was not nearly so much my narrative as it was God's. And God speaks His narrative through the Bible. God's story is about the whole world from its very beginning to the very end. It includes all the nations and governments of the world; it includes the earth, sun and sky; it includes the entire universe. This story even includes you. God, the divine narrator, is saying: I have a purpose for humanity and a purpose for creation and history. I am not asking for permission to join your narrative (although I do); I am asking you to join My narrative of the world, of human existence, and of all history (25).

Webber then proceeds to sketch the story of redemptive history using the categories of creation, fall, incarnation (or redemption), and re-creation (or consummation). He makes the point that recovering this narrative is the most significant and crucial challenge for the Church in our time, and successfully carrying out the mission of God we are entrusted with depends on it.

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There are echoes of such thinkers as Van Til and Dooyeweerd in this:

The implicit narrative of covenant always presupposed that something had gone drastically wrong within creation. But it isn't just that if God is proposing a solution there must have been something wrong. The particular solution God proposes—that of beginning a family and promising them a land—shows that what is wrong concerns, in a central way, the fracturing of human relationships and the fracturing of the relationship between humans and the non-human creation. And the particular faith for which God calls indicates, as Romans 4 draws out, that at the core of the problem is the failure of humans to trust God, to give him praise and honour as the all-powerful creator. All of this is strikingly reemphasised in the gift of Torah, which holds out an extraordinary blueprint of what a genuinely human life is like, a blueprint which called forth the delighted acclaim we noted in Psalm 19, and of course plenty of other places.

The failure of human beings to be the truly image-bearing creatures God intended results, therefore, in corruption and death. When we begin with creation, and with God as creator, we can see clearly that the frequently repeated warnings about sin and death, referred to as axiomatic by Paul, are not arbitrary, as though God were simply a tyrant inventing odd laws and losing his temper with those who flouted them, but structural: humans were made to function in particular ways, with worship of the creator as the central feature, and those who turn away from that worship—that is, the whole human race, with a single exception—are thereby opting to seek life where it is not to be found, which is another way of saying that they are courting their own decay and death. This is to say, with the entire Jewish tradition, that the basic sin is idolatry, the worship of that which is not in fact the living creator God.
— N. T. Wright, Paul: In Fresh Perspective, 34-35.

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The Dutch philosopher, Herman Dooyeweerd, makes the observation in his Roots of Western Culture, that the underlying foundation of all of life is religious. Christianity, he notes, establishes an antithesis that "pertains to the relation between the creature and his creator, and thus touches the religious root of all temporal life." His subsequent thoughts on this bring to light the profound tension that exists between our faith and this world, between belief and unbelief. Dooyeweerd says,

The religious antithesis does not allow a higher synthesis. It does not, for example, permit Christian and non-Christian starting points to be theoretically synthesized. Where can one find in theory a higher point that might embrace two religious, antithetically opposed stances, when precisely because these stances are religious they rise above the sphere of the relative? Can one find such a point in philosophy? Philosophy is theoretical, and in its constitution it remains bound to the relativity of all human thought. As such, philosophy itself needs an absolute point of departure. It derives this exclusively from religion. Religion grants stability and anchorage even to theoretical thought. Those who think they find an absolute starting point in theoretical thought itself come to this belief through an essentially religious drive, but because of a lack of true self-knowledge they remain oblivious to their own religious motivation.

The absolute has a right to exist in religion only. Accordingly, a truly religious starting point either claims absoluteness of abolishes itself. It is never merely theoretical, for theory is always relative. The religious starting point penetrates behind theory to the sure, absolute ground of all temporal, and therefore relative, existence. Likewise, the antithesis it poses is absolute.

Therefore, says Dooyeweerd,

to arrive at the true and decisive meaning of this antithesis and, at the same time, to penetrate to the real source of the differences of opinion concerning its significance, it is necessary to take into account the religious ground motives (religieuze grondmotieven) of Western civilization. They have been the deepest driving forces behind the entire cultural and spiritual development of the West.

One can point to such a ground motive in every religion. It is a spiritual force that acts as the absolutely central mainspring of human society. It governs all of life's temporal expressions from the religious centre of life, directing them to the true or supposed origin of existence. It thus not only places an indelible stamp on the culture, science, and social structure of a given period but determines profoundly one's whole world view. If one cannot point to this kind of leading cultural power in society, a power that lends a clear direction to historical development, then a real crisis looms at the foundations of culture. Such a crisis is always accompanied by spiritual uprootedness.

A spirit is directly operative in the religious ground motive. It is either the spirit of God or that of an idol. Man looks to it for the origin and unshakable ground of his existence, and he places himself in its service. He does not control the spirit, but the spirit controls him. Therefore specifically religion reveals to us our complete dependence upon a higher power. We confront this power as servants, not as rulers.

I have long disliked the way in which the word religion is thrown around and trampled on. What is worse, I think, is the way evangelicals have grabbed onto this culture's use of the word and adopted for itself the false distinction between Christianity and religion. Dooyeweerd here begins to offer a helpful corrective to the lines of demarcation we have unwittingly drawn.

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Marcion, one of the infamous heretics of the ancient Church, saw the God of the Old Testament as one of strict justice, both ruthless and legalistic. To him, this God stood antithetical to the God of the New Testament who was a figure of grace and redeeming love. For this reason, when forming his Scriptural canon, Marcion rejected the Old Testament altogether and cut out large portions of the New Testament, those that reflected the Judaic God in any way.

Last night I was reading from the book of Exodus and was struck by how off the mark Marcion was. I read from Exodus 15:1-16:36. Chapter 15 records what we often call the Song of Moses, his song of praise following Israel's release from Egypt and their deliverance from the hands of Pharaoh and his armies. One of the things that stood out to me this time was that Exodus 15:1 says that it is not just Moses singing this song, but the Israelites altogether. That made Exodus 15:24 stand out even more because after they sing this great song of praise—which is further recalled in such passages as in Psalm 78:52-53 and Psalm 105:37-45—here in verse 24 they are already grumbling and complaining only three days later. God provides sweet water for them to drink in 15:25, and then after more grumbling and complaining from Israel, he provides manna and quail in 16:13-16. Moses makes an important remark in 16:8: "Your grumbling is not against us but against the Lord."

Contrary to Marcion's perception, this is a picture of God's covenant faithfulness, and the more you read of Israel's story the more you see that faithfulness. Here in Exodus 15-16, just two chapters and the span of probably a couple months, Israel complains to God twice and disobeys his instructions twice, yet He remains faithful and is merciful and patient with them.

The story of Israel is often a disheartening one, especially when you realize how clearly it reflects us. But the story of God's faithfulness is extraordinary. Marcion was wrong. The God of the Old Testament is exactly the same as the God of the New Testament, one of grace, mercy, and love. All of history is the story of God gathering His people to Himself, establishing them under His rule, and showering them with His blessing. His covenant promises to His people remain forever.

Israel was unfaithful. We are unfaithful. But God is eternally faithful.

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Surveying the horizon of the evangelical landscape, you cannot help but notice that there is a disturbing lack of holiness in the Church—or perhaps conversely, that it is marked by a disturbing degree of self-righteousness. There are probably several reasons for this, but some of the most significant are the Church's unfaithfulness to Scripture and the negligent way in which it has allowed itself to succumb to the values and norms of our culture.

Our culture is so antagonistic towards rules and authority that both those raised as Christians and those who become Christians later in life seek out an expression of Christianity that requires very little of them. They don't want a God who, despite freeing them from sin by His infinite mercy, love, and grace, requires that they live to glorify Him in all that they do. They only want a salvation that makes their eternal destiny sure, not one that forces them to look at all of life through the lenses of a new paradigm. They don't want a gospel that transforms everything, but instead one that makes them feel good and loved and can be used whenever is convenient for them. And regrettably, the Church has made this distorted gospel readily available to them.

Missing the Point
What pains me so much about this is that people in the Church, leaders and laymen alike, don't see it and continue to feed the problem. In a post the other day, I quoted D. A. Carson, who said that while the gospel may have peripheral benefits such as improving your marriage or how you handle your finances, that is not the heart of it. Yet that is what has become of it in the Church today. We turn Jesus into a weak, smiling figure who loves us and gives us some good advice on how to make our lives better. I am not a big fan of Brian McLaren, but the title of one of his books is perfectly relevant here—we have embarked on adventures in missing the point.

While that might be a bit humorous, make no mistake about it, there is nothing funny about this. It is terribly serious business. Carson rightly says that at the end of the day the gospel is about ultimates. It is about life and death, sin and grace, death and redemption. It is the root and foundation of all that we are, all that we say, think, and do. The problem is that far too many Christians have it reversed. Instead of making the gospel the starting point, we begin with cultural norms and patterns. We then take the gospel and selectively baptize some of the elements of life in order to make them Christian. The gospel is imposed from above on whatever parts of life we choose. It takes minimal effort, makes us look and feel good, and gives us the freedom to live largely as we please.

The Gospel Transforms Everything
But the fact of the matter is that we don't have a choice. If we believe the gospel, we need to believe in it in such a way that it transforms absolutely everything. Christ, as sovereign King, makes a claim over every part of life. If we do not live as such, we have sinned and have enthroned someone or something else as king. Furthermore, we are not living in the fullness that God intended humanity to live in. That fullness of life is only realized when we live with Christ as our King.

All this does not mean that life will become easier or make us more happy, as we have been taught to believe. Quite the contrary. When you begin to learn just how the gospel transforms all of life, you realize very quickly that it makes life a great deal harder. The narrow road is a difficult road. Yes, there are mountains we will overcome, but there are also some very deep valleys we will go through. If you haven't yet figured that out, you're missing something key. Read Pilgrim's Progress.

This is a hard truth, and I am just as guilty as the next person of making my faith into something I want it to be instead of what it ought to be. But there is no excuse. God has entered into relationship with His people by means of a covenant. His grace is immeasurable in that He demands nothing of us and brings us into that covenant relationship because of His love for us. However, once we are in that relationship, He requires that we worship and serve Him alone. That worship is all-encompassing; it means that the totality of our life is lived in worship to Him. God does not ask that we honor Him now and then, or when it is convenient, or when something good has happened to us. No, He demands our total and complete allegiance. Simply put, if you are not worshiping God, you are worshiping something else.

Neither our culture nor the modern Church like the language of "demands" or "duty" because it is suggestive of legalism. Ironically, they shed the shackles of legalism only to rapaciously embrace the shackles of antinomianism. What appears to be freedom is anything but. True freedom is found always and only in Jesus Christ. When we come to understand and believe that, the things which God requires of us no longer seem like demands. Instead, we joyfully desire to serve Him and strive to do everything to His glory. That is true freedom. Anything less is slavery to ourselves or another.

Regaining our Footing
We have missed the point of the gospel, and have substituted another gospel (Gal. 1:6-10). The implications of this are enormous. Our lives are lived out of the convictions and beliefs we hold, and when those basic convictions are not biblical, they are sinful. John Piper says in his Battling Unbelief, "We sin because it offers some promise of happiness. That promise enslaves us until we believe that God is more desirable than life itself (Psalm 63:3). Only the power of God's superior promises in the gospel can emancipate our hearts from servitude to the shallow promises and fleeting pleasures of sin." It is a complete reordering of life which places the true gospel at the center.

There is a great deal of work ahead and we need leaders who are wholly committed to the gospel, prepared to show how the gospel revolutionizes all of life, and willing to stand against the unfaithfulness that has become so prevalent in the Church. Pray that God will raise up those leaders. Pray that we as the Church might see how we have wandered and turned to our own ways, and that instead we would fix our eyes on Jesus and yearn for the freedom and joy found only in service to Him. Pray that we might forsake ourselves and all others for Him. Pray that we might no longer seek to accommodate the gospel to our own desires, but allow ourselves to be transformed by its power. Pray that it will be soon.

Let us take up our cross and follow Him (Matt. 16:24-26). We rest in the assurance that when we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive them and cleanse us from unrighteousness (1 John 1:9).

Lord, revive Your Church.

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