The essence of the Christian religion consists in the reality that the creation of the Father, ruined by sin, is restored in the death of the Son of God, and re-created by the grace of the Spirit into a kingdom of God (112).
That is one seriously loaded statement. But it lays down the sort of holistic understanding of Christianity that we so desperately need.
Herman Bavinck, one of the greatest theologians of the 20th century (and certainly my favourite), on the Trinity:
"The thoughtful person places the doctrine of the Trinity in the very center of the full-orbed life of nature and mankind. The mind of the Christian is not satisfied until every form of existence has been referred to the triune God and until the confession of the Trinity has received the place of prominence in our thought and life."
Because, Bavinck argues, the Trinity is so absolutely central to Christianity, it is not surprising that he would elsewhere say this:
"Every error results from, or upon deeper reflection is traceable to, a departure in the doctrine of the Trinity."
We simply cannot afford to let the doctrine of the Trinity become something secondary or inconsequential. Everything – our life, or worship, or doctrine – must reflect the fact that at the very core of the Christian religion is the triune God.
The recently published edition of Herman Bavinck'sEssays on Religion, Science, and Society, contains a eulogy written in 1922 by Henry Elias Dosker, a lifelong friend of Bavinck and former professor at the Presbyterian Seminary of Kentucky, original published in the Princeton Theological Review. Although I found the whole piece to be interesting, I was particularly struck by Bavinck's perception of what it meant to be theologically conservative. Dosker quotes Bavinck at length toward the end of the eulogy:
Theology is truly conservative; it accepts the inheritance of the past generations, yet not to scatter it but to hand it over, if possible increased and still more "reformed," to the generations that follow. Theology receives these acquired treasures, not to cast them again and again into the melting pot of criticism, but to hand them over to us to see whether we also, as mightily as in former days, may experience their truth and beauty in our own souls. It is a mere illusion always to try to find something new in the field of theology. The glittering results of nature studies may have led many theologians to try to find novelties in the theological field, but disappointment has always punished such curiosity. But at the same time theology is a progressive science. Reverencing the past, theology builds upward on the foundations that are laid, till theology itself is complete and has attained its final object. Theology does not rest at Chalcedon or Dordt. Theology holds the conviction that it will please God to cast ever more light on the Holy Scriptures in days to come, on what till now was dark or nebulous in them. Till then theology has not compelted its task or attained its object.
Bavinck aims to find a balance between, on the one hand, the sort of perspective that sees one period or expression of theology as the ultimate, and on the other hand, the sort of rogue theological innovation that seeks to push against boundaries at every opportunity. And if you read his work, you come away feeling that he did a pretty good job finding this balance.
Those of you who know me or have read this blog for some time will know of my disdain for the "gospel versus religion" distinction that has featured so prominently in evangelical Christianity in recent years. It is the flesh and blood, for example, of the gospel tweeting phenomenon. Pastors use it often in their sermons. Well-intentioned believers have made it a staple of their discussions with sceptics who claim that Christianity is just another religion. It has become the mantra of Christian culture.
But I have never liked the distinction. And I am in good company, because neither would Herman Bavinck. In the opening essay of his collection, Essays on Religion, Science and Society, in which he discusses the philosophy of religion, he states very clearly that religion is at the core of who we are as human beings, and is a fundamental and inescapable part of life. This idea would most certainly not sit well with fans of the gospel/religion distinction, but Bavinck is exactly right.
One of the major problems with this gospel/religion distinction is that it is premised on a narrow definition of religion. The understanding is that religion is merely a voluntary action on the part of individuals, who engage in certain practices or rituals in an effort to make themselves better people or to earn their own salvation. Insofar as people use this to indicate a distinction between Christianity and the other religions of the world, there is an element of truth to it—only in Christianity does God grant salvation to his people purely by his grace, requiring nothing on their part.
However, the problem that arises with such a narrow definition of religion is that it implicitly denies something fundamental about every human being, as I noted above: at the core, all of us are religious. To be human is to be religious. All of us have a natural impulse to worship and serve something. The issue at hand, then, is not that humans engage in the performance of different practices and rituals with a view to salvation or moral uprightness. The problem goes deeper than that. It is a question of the orientation of their whole being. Are they living in service to the Creator, or to a creature?
Henry R. Van Til once wrote, "For man, in the deepest reaches of his being, is religious; he is determined by his relationship to God. Religion, to paraphrase the poet's expressive phrase, is not of life a thing apart, it is man's whole existence." Every human being has the sense of something ultimate and absolute, and their lives bear recognition of that fact. While Christianity differs from other religions in very major ways—and I am in no way trying to minimize those differences—it also has similarities to all other religions. Each is made up of people who want to worship something or someone with the belief that in doing so, salvation can be found. From there, the divergences of belief and practice vary significantly, of course, but this basic thing is common to all religions.
Western society has long tried to downplay the significance of religion, but the central place of religion in human life throughout history clearly demonstrates that we cannot underestimate its power. This was a reality that many of the Enlightenment-era philosophers were not willing to concede. While they would grant a place to religion as one aspect of the human person, none would assert that mankind is fundamentally religious. Bavinck thus notes,
By limiting religion to one human faculty, they diminish man's universal character. They divide man in two and separate what belongs together. They create a gulf between religion and culture, and they run the danger of reducing religion to moral duty or aesthetic emotion or a philosophic view. But according to the Christian confession religion is other than and higher than all those views; religion must not just be something in one's life, but everything, Jesus demands that we love God with all our heart, all our soul, and all our strength. In our thinking and living, there can be no division between God and the world, between religion and culture; no one can serve two masters.
Therefore if we want to do full justice to religion, we must return to the central unity in man that is the basis for differentiating his faculties and which in Holy Scripture is often designated the heart, from which proceed all expressions of life in mind, feeling, and will. Reformed theologians sought that central point for religion in (as Calvin called it) the seed of religion [semen religionis] or sense of divinity [sensus divinitatis], and in the Christian religion theologians went behind faith and conversion to regeneration, which in principle is a renewal of the whole man. When they took a position in this center of man, they saw opportunity to avoid all one-sidedness of rationalism, mysticism, and ethicism, and to maintain that religion is the animating principle of all of life (29-30).
Proponents of the gospel/religion distinction might protest that they are simply using the definition of religion accepted by their culture for the purpose of interacting with them. I would agree that we must be aware of how our culture defines different words and ideas, but would we so quick to accept our culture's definitions if we are talking about things like sin, faith, or the gospel? As Bavinck notes, the idea of religion being only one part of man is an idea that finds expression particularly in the philosophy of the Enlightenment era, and one that has been readily adopted by our culture. However, this is certainly not the case in the Christian tradition. Many theologians and Christian philosophers have spoken readily about the religious nature of man. So the question we need to ask is, to what heritage do we belong?
Owing to its belief that religion can be confined to one part of the human being, our culture further strives to relegate religion to a private sphere. The gospel just becomes another alternative to their idea of religion, and they will continue to view this faith as something private and just one of many parts of life. Because of this, you can't just replace our culture's idea of religion with the gospel. First you must redefine misconceptions of religion and the nature of humanity.
If you truly believe that the gospel transforms the entirety of a man's life, then you need to begin with a proper understanding who man fundamentally is. It is not without significance that the Bible speaks so frequently about the heart, because it is the heart that is the core of the human being. It is the heart that loves and desires. Now, this is the important part—we are fundamentally desiring beings. The basic impulse of our nature is to attach worth to something and to adore it. Our basic impulse is to worship. So, if the core of man's being naturally worships, what does this say about humanity? The conclusion is obvious: we are religious beings.
The gospel, then, is not about replacing or abandoning religion. The gospel takes the religious man and transforms his heart so that he begins to worship the true God, the Lord of heaven and earth. The gospel does not stand as the antithesis to religion because it addresses man as a religious being. To quote Van Til again, "No man can escape this religious determination of his life, since God is the inescapable, ever-present Fact of man's existence. God may be loved or hated, adored or debased, but he cannot be ignored." The gospel confronts religious man with the Creator, demanding that, as a worshipping being, he worship God alone.
I do not like the gospel versus religion distinction. It is an oversimplification, and it is a false dichotomy. Further, it tends toward a deficient view of the nature of humanity. Many Christians, I know, think it is a helpful tool for highlighting the differences between Christianity and other world religions (salvation by grace versus salvation by works, and so on), but we simply cannot let pragmatism rule the day when it comes to something so fundamental to who we are as human beings.
Some will think that I make too much of this, but I am reminded of what Eugene Peterson once said, "We cannot be too careful about the words we use; we start out using them and then they end up using us." There is much wisdom in this. Religion is not a word to be used lightly and then discarded, because humanity is ulimately religious. As Christians, we need to uphold a biblical anthropology that recognizes the fundamental religious character of human beings if we are to present a gospel that transforms their whole being.
Mark Driscoll apparently made a comment once something to the effect of it being ridiculous that people could sprinkle babies with a few drops of water and call it baptism. Let me make clear, though, that I can't verify he actually said that, and so by no means claim that he did—indeed, it would surprise me; I understand that the Acts 29 Network includes both paedo- and credo-baptist churches—but I know these sentiments exist (if you'd like to read something delightfully inflammatory, read this from Spurgeon on the "abomination" of infant baptism).
I grew up in paedo-baptist churches, and have long held to the conviction that infants should be baptized, although there was a period when I wrestled quite extensively with the question of who are to be the subjects of baptism. In the last few years, however, I have found my conviction that the infants of believers must be baptized strengthened, especially in light of the covenant. In volume four of his Reformed Dogmatics (yes, this will be an oft-quoted text on this blog), Herman Bavinck makes a number of arguments in favour of the baptism of children. I find his discussion of the relationship between baptism and the covenant particularly important:
The covenant of grace established with Israel, though it changed in dispensation, remained the same in essence. The church (ἐκκλησία, ekklēsia) has replaced the Israel of the Old Testament. It is now the people of God, and God is its God and Father (Matt. 1:21; Luke 1:17; Acts 3:25; Rom. 9:25-26; 11:16-21; 2 Cor. 6:16-18; Gal. 3:14-29; Eph. 2:12-13; Titus 2:14; Heb. 8:8-10; 1 Pet. 2:9; Rev. 21:3). As was the case in the Old Testament, so now too the children of believers are included among the people of God. The church of the New Testament, after all, is not a collection of individuals, but an organism, a body, a temple, and as such, as a people, it took the place of Israel. As wild olive shoots—since some of the branches of the old olive tree have been broken off—they have been grafted onto the trunk of the same olive tree and so share in the nourishing sap from its root (Rom. 11:16-17). Hence at times entire households converted to Christianity. The household itself is an institution of God, an organic whole, which shares in a common blessing or a common curse...[Peter] says that the promise of the old covenant that God would be the God of believers and their children passed into the dispensation of the New Testament (Acts 2:39) [528-529].
Bavinck goes on to note that children are sanctified by virtue of their parents, citing Paul's discussion of believing and unbelieving spouses in 1 Corinthians 7:14ff. He observes that when Paul speaks about the holiness children receive from a believing parent it is not a subjective and internal holiness, but a "theocratic kind of holiness." As such,
it teaches that the whole family is regarded in light of the confession of the believing spouse. The believer has the calling to serve the Lord not only for oneself but with all that belongs to oneself and with one's entire family. For that reason the children of believers are admonished by the apostles as Christian children in the Lord (Acts 26:22; Eph. 6:1; Col. 3:20; 2 Tim. 3:15; 1 John 2:13)...Scripture knows nothing of a neutral upbringing that seeks to have the children make a completely free and independent choice at a more advanced age. The children of believers are...children of the covenant and are holy, not by nature (Job 14:4; Ps. 51:5; John 3:6; Eph. 2:3) but by virtue of the covenant...The basis for baptism is not the assumption that someone is regenerate, nor even that [there is] regeneration itself, but only the covenant of God (529-531).
It is a significant point, I think, that in the New Testament we always see a heightening in the fulfillment of something from the Old Testament. That is the case with typology, for instance, and so it is the case with the covenant. The promises of the covenant are fulfilled in a much greater way in the New Testament. To restrict the promises of the covenant, then, to those who are able to make a verbal profession of faith, seems to be a regression and not a heightened fulfillment. In the Old Testament, if the promises of the covenant were to "you and your seed," how much more should they be in the New Testament and subsequent ages! Additionally, one's incorporation into the covenant is never an autonomous act, but always and only an act of God bringing that person into the covenant family.
Of course, this by no means exhausts the case for infant baptism, but for me it is the most powerful argument in favour of it. Thoughts?
You would be hard-pressed to find something Herman Bavinck has written that is not rich in insight, cogent, and bursting with theological significance. Of course, this is an exaggeration (and a clear indication that I have not read everything Bavinck has written), but I find that almost every time I open one of his books and start to read him, my soul is fed.
One of the areas of theology that captures my interest most is ecclesiology. Bavinck makes much of the Church, as any good theologian should, given that it is in the Church that God joins His covenant people together, having called them to Himself and redeemed them. A couple of years ago, I remember coming across this passage on pages 280-281 in volume four of his Reformed Dogmatics, in which he gives wonderful expression to the organic unity of the Church.
All [local] churches are conceived of as one ἐκκλησία (ekklēsia) and described as the body, the bride, or the fullness (πλήρωμα, plērōma) of Christ.
This oneness of all the churches does not come into being a posteriori by the establishment of a creed, a church order, and a synodical system. Neither is the church an association of individual persons who first became believers apart from the church and subsequently united themselves. But it is an organism in which the whole exists prior to the parts; its unity precedes the plurality of local churches and rests in Christ. It is he who, continuing his mediatorial work in the state of exaltation, joins his churches together and builds them up from within himself as the head (Eph. 1:23; 4:16; 5:23; Col. 1:18; 2:19), gathers and governs it (John 10:16; 11:52; 17:20-21; Acts 2:33, 47; 9:3ff.), always remains with it (Matt. 18:20), is most intimately connected with it (John 15:1ff.; 17:21, 23; 1 Cor. 6:15; 12:12-27; Gal. 2:20), and dwells in it by his Spirit (Rom. 6:5; 8:9-11; 1 Cor. 6:15ff.; Eph. 3:17). The assertion that the universal ἐκκλησία precedes the local churches is correct in the sense that while it is not historically prior it is logically so. Every local church is the people of God, the body of Christ, built upon the foundation of Christ (1 Cor. 3:11, 16; 12:27), because in that location it is the same as what the church is in its entirety, and Christ is for that local church what he is for the universal church.In the various local gatherings of believers, it is the one church of Christ that comes to expression. Its essence, both as it concerns the church as a whole and each of its parts in particular, is grounded in that it is the people of God (Rom. 9:25; 2 Cor. 6:16, 18; Titus 2:14; Heb. 8:10; 13:12; 1 Pet. 2:9-10), consisting of people who have committed themselves to the Lord and have turned to him (Acts 5:14; 14:15), who bear the name of disciples, brothers and sisters, chosen ones, called ones, saints, believers (Acts 1:15; 6:1; 9:1, 32; Rom. 1:7; 1 Cor. 1:2). In its broadest sense ἐκκλησία is the gathering of all the people of God, not only on earth but also in heaven (Heb. 12:23), not only in the past and present but also in the future (John 10:16; 17:20).
Bavinck is clearly talking here about the organic unity that lies at the very heart of the nature of the Church, speaking of the Church as God intended her to be. But I think there is a great deal of work to be done building on this foundation, both to understand what this unity would look like in reality and to begin to bring that unity to fruition. I have remarked before that the division and brokenness of Christ's Church grieves me so deeply that there are times I almost feel the effects of it physically. Although I recognize that we will never see this unity come to full expression before Christ returns, we are left with no excuse, on the one hand, to remain content in our division; neither, on the other hand, is it an excuse to force unity where there is none. There must be some way to make this organic unity more of a reality among the churches on earth.
To that end, I am thinking more and more that I should like to devote my life (or at least several years, initially) to begin the work of figuring this out. (On a side note, if someone over at Oxford, Edinburgh, the Free University of Amsterdam, or any other school is willing to pay me to do so, that would be even better).
Cornelius Van Til argued that Reformed theology demanded a Reformed apologetic, one based on its doctrine of God and doctrines of grace. John Muether, in his excellent biography of Van Til, quotes him at length on this issue:
A generally evangelical apologetic to a large extent defeats its own purposes. True enough much good may be accomplished, both by an Arminian theology and by a generally evangelical method of apologetic. In this fact all who love the Lord will rejoice. But how much more good may be accomplished by the grace of God through a more consistently Biblical theology and a more consistenly Biblical apologetic. A generally evangelical apologetic does not drive the natural man down into a corner with no hope of escape. It does not track him down till he is at bay. It does not destroy his last shelter. His fire is not altogether extinguished...A plea for a vigorous apologetic ought therefore to be a plea for a genuinely Reformed apologetic. We may not be clear, indeed as to the full implications of a truly Reformed apologetic. But this fact does not justify us in refusing to point out those who, with us, love the Christian faith that a generally evanglical apologetic...is inadequate for any time and especially inadequate for our time.
Apologetics cannot precede faith and does not attempt a priori to argue the truth of revelation. It assumes the truth and belief in the truth. It does not, as the introductory part or as the foundational science, precede theology and dogmatics. It is itself a theological science through and through, which presupposes the faith and dogmatics and now maintains and defends the dogma against the opposition to which it is exposed.
...If Christian revelation, which presupposes the darkness and error of unspiritual humanity, submitted in advance to the judgments of reason, it would by that token contradict itself. It would thereby place itself before a tribunal whose jurisdiction it had first denied. And having once recognized the authority of reason on the level of first principles, it could no longer oppose that authority in the articles of faith.
Anyone with even a cursory knowledge of Van Til knows that the first thing he would do when entering a classroom is to draw the diagram you see at the left on the chalkboard. The two circle diagram was representative of the Creator-creature distinction, one which Van Til unapologetically (no pun intended) maintained was absolutely crucial to Christian thought. The two lines connecting the circles represented the covenantal relationship between God and man. Man, the creature, was always dependent on God, the Creator, and His revelation. The one circle on the left represented non-Christian thought, where any idea of "God" was rooted in the creature.
It was for this reason that apologetics could never have its foundation in any thought that rejected the Creator-creature distinction. No vague notions of reason would suffice, neither would the idea that Christians and non-Christians could find some sort of neutral ground from which to engage in apologetics. And so he devoted himself to working out an apologetic that honoured the relationship between God and man and rooted itself fully in the revelation of God. For Van Til, there simply was no other way.
Regeneration, for Herman Bavinck, is not a matter of something entirely new being created within us, but instead is a re-formation of human nature to what it was originally intended to be. There is no new substance added to what is already there, he writes in the first chapter of volume four of his Reformed Dogmatics. He then extends the discussion to creation, and makes this profoundly important point:
Finally also the re-creation that will take place in the renewal of heaven and earth (Matt. 19:28) is not the destruction of this world and the subsequent creation out of nothing of another world but the liberation of the creature that is now subject to futility. Nor can it be otherwise, for God's honor as Savior hinges precisely on his reconquest from the power of Satan of this human race and this world. Christ, accordingly, is not a second Creator, but the Redeemer and Savior of this fallen creation, the Reformer of all things that have been ruined and corrupted by sin. Neither, for that matter, is sin a substance, but consists in lawlessness (άνομια); it is an actualized privation (privatio actuosa) that has indeed violated the form (forma) of the entire created world but did not and could not destroy its substance or essence. Hence, when the re-creation removes sin from creation, it does not deprive it of anything essential, nothing that was essentially and originally characteristic of it (though it was "by nature") and belonged to its essence. For sin is not part of the essence of creation; it pushed its way in later, as something unnatural and contrary to nature. Sin is deformity. When re-creation removes sin, it does not violate and suppress nature, but restores it.
This point cannot be made strongly enough, especially in evangelical circles where creation is often not of great concern. But the fact is, as Bavinck so clearly states, that if creation is not restored, sin gains victory and the Lordship of Christ is rendered null and void.
