Evangelicalism and Historical Criticism

I'm currently reading through Evangelical Faith and the Challenge of Historical Criticism (among other things), and its turning out to be a sobering experience. While I'm aware of the Princeton/Machen fiasco back in the 20s that lead to the founding of Westminster seminary and the subsequent evangelical/fundamentalist debate over historical criticism (evolution being a pertinent example of such tribulations), I had little experience in relation to historical criticism in my upbringing. That's not to make much of anything, just an observation that strikes me as I read about JEDP and other various theories.

So, while I ponder whether or not to shell out $15 for Ehrman's new book, I thought I'd post a quote from the preeminent book that's been bothering me.

"It should now be obvious that this book is as much about theology as it is about historical criticism; in fine, it is about the significance of historical criticism for Christian theology. As the chapters unfold, we will at times find Christian theology utterly unscathed by critical research; on some occasions we will see that certain doctrines might need to be reformulated in the light of new historical insights; and in certain instances we will discover that historical criticism actually enhances out apprehension of God and his self-revelation in Scripture. Simply put, we will see that historical criticism is a tool, one which can be difficult to wield, which can cause damage if misused, but which also can be immensely valuable and constructive if placed in capable hands."

You can read Peter Enn's interview with editor Christopher M. Hays right hurr. I highly recommend the book. I'm on ch2 right now, and this chapter is dealing with Adam and the fall, including original sin in Paul. Very intriguing.

--Nick

Evangelicals & Self-Criticism

Brick by Brick:

When it comes to evangelical disenfranchisement from the academy and wider culture, we are frequently our own worst enemies.

Please, don’t misunderstand me.  I don’t mean to suggest that there is not anti-religious and naturalistic bias in much of academia.  I am well aware that Christianity’s exclusive claims are unwelcome in our would-be pluralistic universities and are not tolerated in our would-be tolerant society.  But I have come to the conclusion that there are a number of Evangelical intellectual habits and material positions that are serious liabilities for us as we try to faithfully engage the academy and the wider culture:

1. Academia progresses by a process of critical peer review.  Academics are used to the fact that we learn more about the world by refining our analyses, revising our conclusions in the light of new data, tightening up our logic, moving on from discredited ideas, and so on, and the fact that this learning process is propelled by academics’ scrutinizing and criticizing each others’ work, showing where their survey samples were too small to support their conclusions, where they had conveniently ignored problematic data, where they had committed non sequiturs and so on.  It’s nothing personal.  It’s just how things get done.  Evangelicals have more or less opted out of this process in order to protect some of our more intellectually vulnerable (i.e., dubious) stances from serious criticism.  That’s not to say that Evangelicals do not “engage” with the questions and issues raised in academic settings.  But we tend to “engage” only when we can do so on our own terms, publishing almost exclusively in our own sectarian publishing houses and journals for a generally sympathetic and/or uninformed readership who either won’t or can’t argue with our conclusions.  Such “academic engagement” tends to be highly selective about what data and questions it deals with (which is a bit disingenuous), and thus amounts to little more than shadow-boxing with straw-men.  So long as we Evangelicals absolve ourselves from serious (self-)critical engagement, we neither deserve a seat at the academic table, nor should we expect to be offered one.  But we can do better than that.
2. When we Evangelicals are criticized, we have a tendency to prematurely assume a defensive posture, circling the wagons and sounding the “the gospel’s at stake” alarm.  And this goes for criticism coming from within the Evangelical community as much as (if not more than) for criticism from without.  When someone from within our ranks raises questions–however commonsensical or data-driven they might be–our tendency is to automatically make such people out to be outsiders, questioning their Evangelical credentials (as though Evangelicalism had a credentialing office) and painting them as traitors or apostates or worse.  (e.g., Read this, this, this, this, this, this, this…).  This sort of knee-jerk reactionary mode of response serves only to shut down important in-house conversations and to disengage our community from, well, reality.   To say the least, this is not a productive pattern of behavior.  But we can do better than that.
3. The “scandal of the Evangelical mind” persists.  Most of the intellectual maladies diagnosed by Mark Noll in his landmark book The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind have not really been addressed by the wider evangelical community.  Our quirky, a-historical, literalistic biblicism, our paranoia about science, and our shallowly partisan political reflection are all intellectual paradigms long overdue for nuance, revision, critique, and even replacement.  The brighter lights within Evangelical academia have moved past these paradigms, but their thinking tends not to get much press and does not really filter down to the people in the pews (not least because of point 2 above).  But we can do better than that.
4. Evangelicals generally lack credibility within the wider academic world because the evangelicals who speak loudest are generally those who are guiltiest of problems 1, 2 & 3 and they generally go unopposed by others within the Evangelical community.  I don’t know of any other way to counteract this problem than by speaking up and encouraging others to do likewise.  Otherwise people in the academy and in the wider culture will be justified in assuming that the Ken Hams, Al Mohlers, and Jerry Falwells of the world speak for all of us on every point.  We need Evangelicals to regularly say to each other and before the wider world, “No, those people do not speak for me.  I think they’re wrong, and I am a Christian too.  I think we can do better than that.”

There are lots of reasons why we increasingly find ourselves on the margins of our society and the academy.  Scientistic reductionism, methodological naturalism, secularism, creative antirealism, and a host of other cultural and intellectual forces have combined to create a general atmosphere of bias against traditional Christianity.  But I believe that the hard truth is that by acquiescing in the bad habits enumerated above, we have become our own worst enemies, undercutting our ability to credibly counteract the corrosive cultural and intellectual trends of our time.  Until we develop a capacity to engage in and receive constructive (self-) criticism (particularly from within our community), the Evangelical community will have little right to claim a seat at the academic table or to expect much of a hearing in the public square.  If we fail to do this, I fear we will fail the next generation worse than have we failed the last.

This strikes me as overly pessimistic. But, something to think about.

For the rest, click HERE.

--Nick

Jonathan Martin, "Christianity Today and Blue Like Jazz"

I'm a fan of Martin as a writer and as a pastor. His podcast is awesome. So check this out.

I did indeed read Donald Miller’s Blue Like Jazz.  I liked Miller’s book because I thought it was funny and honest. I found it refreshing to buy a book in a Christian bookstore that was well-written (not generally criteria for publishing “Christian” books).  It did not change my life or even my mind about anything in particular, so I am not some rabid apologist for the book (and I don’t know Don personally).  I have not yet seen the new film.  But I don’t think I need to in order to call out Christianity Today for their frankly absurd new review.

While the reviewer does not give the film a unilaterally negative review, they ultimately gave Blue Like Jazz 2 and 1/2 stars for, well, if you understand what you are reading–not being Reformed enough theologically: “Separating ‘Christian spirituality’ from the fundamentals of the gospel message means, in the case of Miller’s book, an emphasis on feelings and experience, on social justice and an individual search for truth. Little traction is given to the mortification of sin, to the atoning significance of the Cross, and so forth.”  Or later, “But Christ and the Cross don’t much factor into the story, making it seem like a big swing of the pendulum, from the legalism of the Christian Right to the social causes of the Christian Left.”

Here’s my deal: I don’t fault CT for having a more Reformed perspective. That’s their prerogative. The critic seems to find not only the film but the source material to be inadequate in its presentation of the scope of the gospel (though I don’t recall Miller’s book making any claims to define or re-define “the gospel,” only to share alternately funny and heartbreaking scenes from his own story).  What I can’t handle is the sudden doctrinal piety.  I’ve been reading the magazine since high school, and can’t recall a parallel.  In an attempt to “engage culture,” CT will generally give films even with the most difficult content generous marks if it is well-made.  Again, I don’t fault them for this per se.

What I do fault CT for is the inconsistency (I bit my tongue not to say hypocrisy) of being more generous with  say, A Girl with a Dragon Tattoo, which I have contended is a lightweight thriller posing as social commentary here.  In fairness, the critic was careful to state that Dragon Tattoo contains stark, disturbing violence.  Yet I am no less chaffed by the suggestion that a movie where the voyeuristic camera lingers on forced oral sex and anal rape of a female ultimately gets higher marks than Blue Like Jazz.  The Girl with a Dragon Tattoo is an “insightful, haunting film that successfully captures the sort of alienation and rage inherent in the abused and skeptical generation that Lisbeth represents…”  Even in all of its violence, the reviewer asks us: ” Is there anything left to cling to? Perhaps only this: the strange and persistent suspicion that goodness does exist and that justice is worth fighting for. At least this is what seems to keep Lisbeth going.”

But of course Blue Like Jazz has too much social justice and not enough atonement?  If any of Miller’s content in the book is represented accurately in the film, it surely has plenty of examples of love and forgiveness and grace that could be found without rummaging through a sewer of sexual degradation.  But of course a dark mainstream film like Dragon Tattoo has to be viewed through the lens of Christian charity in the name of cultural relevance, whereas Blue Like Jazz has to pass through the filter of Reformed theology.  We should look to find the value or “the truth” embedded in depictions of graphic sexual violence, but the lack of atonement in Blue Like Jazz is, pardon me, offensive?  Then again, I suppose The Girl with a Dragon Tattoo has enough “wrath” to “satisfy” anybody, even Reformed movie critics.

I love you, Christianity Today.  But the double standard is inexcusably stupid.  In your reviews, you can be the savvy “engage the culture intellectually publication” if you like, or you can be the orthodoxy police of culture.  I frankly don’t care which you choose, just thought you should know you don’t get to be both at the same time.

Martin/CT

--Nick

Deconstructing "Christian Films"; part I

DECONSTRUCTING "CHRISTIAN FILMS"; PART I

THE DEFINITION OF "CHRISTIAN" FILMS

The debate about "christian films" has followed me for years, ever since Biola. When I first enrolled in their film program in 2007, the debate was simmering and already at a boiling point. Conservatives had strong issues with sex and foul language, while the more liberal students continued to (sometimes unnecessarily) push the lines of good taste. At the time, I sided with my liberal friends (and I still do) and thought the entire debate was silly and unconstructive. Of course, I did very little to advance a reasonable dialogue on the topic as I was too busy being angry, chasing girls (to little effect) and supporting random libertarian causes. 

But, after hearing about the "Blue Like Jazz" controversy (1), the issue has come back to really bug me. Reading about two "christian films" duking it out over a piece of biblical terrain seemed not only futile but damaging. Imagine others watching this inner-christian spat over something as trivial as a film. This is also the same with "The Last Temptation of Christ", with christians protesting the film without having seen it. We're often very good at shooting from the hip and missing the map for the territory. 

So, I'm going to set forth some criteria about what defines a "christian film." These ideas are not set in stone, and I'm open to changing or refining my ideas. I won't be putting for any specific biblical data, but will attempt to argue in a different way.

The same difficulties in defining evangelicalism are inherent in defining really anything as Christian. Some define evangelicalism more sociologically (2) in terms of historical trends. I'm inclined to work within this framework and put forth a definition of what defines a "christian film."

VALUES & SPECIFICS

To be clear, a "christian film" and a film with christian "values" are two different things. I imagine that this discussion and the subsequent challenges will bring forth clarity, but I'm somewhat confident that "values" are different and require a different set of criteria. 

BEBBINGTON'S QUADRILATERAL

I consider Bebbington's Quadrilateral to be a great foundation for this discussion. Based on his research, Bebbington attempted to define what evangelicalism really is, and what is required of it. He defines it as follows, and I have added to his principles. My additions and clarifications are italicized. 

1. Biblicism. 

An adherence to Scripture and belief that it contains the ultimate authority. 

2. Crucicentrism.

The atonement of Christ. 

I've seen some criticism leveled at "Blue Like Jazz" (3) in regards to atonement theory, but I considered this already in my review of "Blue Like Jazz" and found the critique strongly lacking (4). 

3. Conversionism.

Believing that humans need to become converted to Christianity. 

4. Activism.

The belief that the gospel needs expressed in effort. 

Oddly enough, many christians seem to shirk this label and divorce it from social justice. I can understand the desire to be separate from possible progressive politics, but this does include ministering to the needs to non-christians, which makes this part vital and something christians seem to be lacking. All of the four premises put together seem to offer the potential for the label. Of course, this is not conclusive and more directed to stimulate more viable criteria.

I will add a final and conditional premise that can make or break the idea of a "christian film" and a film that has "christian values."

DOGMATISM; A CONDITIONAL PREMISE

5. Dogmatism.

A conditional belief that is either respectful and passionate, or condescending and antagonistic. What it adds is empathy and what it detracts is the same. 

Which brings me to my next point.

SUBJECTIVISM

The biggest issue we often miss is intention. What did the filmmakers intend to communicate and do they refer to their art as "christian?" Steve Taylor has a love affair with cheekiness and sarcasm that comes through very strongly in his film, but I haven't read anything that would lead me to believe that Taylor would label his work as "christian." In fact, in order to reach more people, it seems that it would benefit Taylor and Miller to separate from current Christendom (to avoid associated baggage) in order to get their film out there. To be taken seriously by your audience is indeed an important ideal. 

Many christians desire to be separate from the world, and will sacrifice quality for message, as if one is more important than the other. The issue becomes subjective. I went to see "Fireproof" at the dollar theater and I watched as several older people left the theater halfway through when the film paused to deliver a really poorly written sermon. I heard one of them mutter "bullshit" on their way out. I knew very little about their religious convictions, but I knew I wanted to join him and talk. I didn't. 

Simply put, a filmmaker who doesn't want to associate his film with the "christian" label is justified in doing so. In doing so, he would be fulfilling part 4 and 5 out of BQ, leaving room for parts 1-3 to be integrated however he or she chooses. 

EXAMPLE

The first four premises together make, I would argue, the potential for a christian film. Assuming that dogmatism is a negative feature (to be separated from conviction), if one is dogmatic about the above mentioned features then the resulting artistic piece will indeed be didactic and be made exclusively for those that are Christian.  People who are not christians will have little interest. The presence of dogmatism does indeed create tension with the audience and filmmakers. Consider that "Fireproof" has over 600 five-star reviews on Amazon (5). Consider that "Fireproof" strongly fulfills 1-3 very strongly, to the point where I wanted to leave the theater. It poorly applies part 4, not because it lacks integrity or a desire to promote christianity, but because it misunderstands it's audience. Was the film made for christians, or everyone? 

I think the film was made exclusively for christians, with the hopes that others would overlooks it's poor filmmaking, structure and writing in the hopes of seeing the "message." This will be looked at in another section. 

Anyone who does not buy into christianity as a whole, or even in parts, will watch this film, see all four parts (excluding the workings of the Holy Spirit and God working through whatever medium He desires of course) and given the conditional nature of 5 in a dogmatic manner, its unsurprising how many if not most non-christians react. They leave. 

"Blue Like Jazz", as an opposite example, fulfills all 4 points as well as the conditional nature of part 5. It understands that dogmatism works against the point of the film, and the conditional nature of part 5 allows the film to be understood by those who would otherwise ignore it. Because of this, I do think "Blue Like Jazz" rejects the potential to be labeled a "christian film" and instead prefers the label "film." Again, this does not assume that films cannot have christian values. 

For a "secular" film that fits very well within this paradigm, see "The Grey" and my thoughts on it.(6)

This brings me to another point.

LABELS

The baggage that comes with the label "christian" is enough for me to disassociate my writings with the label entirely. I will use myself as an example here. Of course, anyone with theological training can pick up specific themes in my writing. However, I do wonder if disassociating myself with the label actually solves anything.

Kierkegaard mentioned that once a label is placed, the argument is negated. I don't know if I agree entirely, but the concept of lumping all similarities into a specific camp strikes me more as a camp mentality than an honest exploration. Just making a note of this. 

FAILURE & "THE MESSAGE"

The biggest objection I've heard to my thoughts (in other avenues) is that "the film was bad, but the message was good." I have several things to say to this.

1) This is based on a misunderstanding. if one believes that there is some sort of standard in art in terms of quality, then every film must be understood and looked at in that way. No partiality.

2) Partiality may be shown, but one must admit that they are showing it as such, and their opinion is based more on personal preference against a set standard. 

3) What is the standard for good films? I offer several thoughts below:

3a) The technical quality. "Memento" was made for cheap, and it turned out to be a classic. "The Dark Knight" required over 185 million to make, but it was flawless. 

3b) The efficiency of the narrative. Does the film work as a whole? Pacing, acting, writing, direction. Anything involving the requirement of interaction in terms of narrative. 

3c) The strength of the message. The message can be entirely fatalistic, but does it communicate it well? Does it remain true to it's worldview? Does it challenge it? Is it dogmatic?

3d) The personal element. This is where the presuppositions and experiences of the viewer come into the equation. They make up a quarter of it, and one is allowed to reject the film as personally repulsive or in disagreement with the worldview expressed. I think "Watchmen" fulfills A-C very well, but the overall worldview is something I would reject. It is a great film in the first 3 points, but fails for me on a personal level. Subjectivism. 

4) Finally, the message is only part of the entire film. I'm not convinced that accepting a bad film just because of the "message" is valid. 

CONCLUSION

I'll confess, I don't think I've really settled the issue at all. At most, all I hope I've done is provide some possible rabbit trails we can all follow in the hopes of finding the truth. This debate is not settled nor is this article conclusive. 

I will also confess that I'm not certain this discussion will ever end. As with Bebbington's Quadrilateral, it has it's fair share of detractors (D.A. Carson is one). So, here's to the truth and that it may be found.

If it doesn't, we can still argue less important things like jelly beans and dark beer. 

--Nick

Footnotes:

(1) DailyBeast/Blue Like Jazz.

(2) Bebbington's Quadrilateral. 
-- biblicism, a particular regard for the Bible (e.g. all essential spiritual truth is to be found in its pages).
-- crucicentrism, a focus on the atoning work of Christ on the cross.
-- conversionism, the belief that human beings need to be converted.
-- activism, the belief that the gospel needs to be expressed in effort.

(3) Christianity Today/ Blue Like Jazz

(4) TMC, Blue Like Jazz review. Also, Split/Frame review.

(5) Fireproof/Amazon Reviews

(6) Split Frame/The Grey

Roger Olson, "Fundamentalism & Evangelicalism; Distinctions?"

Olson:

What Distinguishes “Evangelical” from “Fundamentalist?”

Is it possible to be truly, authentically evangelical without being fundamentalist? That’s what I really meant to ask in books like Reformed and Always Reforming, How to Be Evangelical without Being Conservative, and Questions to All Your Answers (and in many of my articles about “postconservative evangelicalism.”

The problem is that, over the last few decades, fewer and fewer people call themselves “fundamentalists.” I think that probably began when the media started using the label to describe terrorists. Who wants to be associated in people’s minds with Ayatollah Khomenei? (Some of you may be too young to remember, but, as I recall, he was the first non-Christian that I ever heard labeled “fundamentalist.”)

These days, people who used to identify themselves as fundamentalists and who still exhibit that ethos call themselves “conservative evangelicals.” Of course, there are people who call themselves conservative evangelicals who are not fundamentalists. So it gets complicated.

So why is this even an important question? Simply that, at least here in the good old U.S., there is a huge network of educational institutions, publishers, mission agencies, world relief organizations, parachurch ministries, etc., etc., that identify themselves as “evangelical.” Most of them at one time or another had some affiliation with the so-called “neo-evangelical” or “postfundamentalist evangelical” movement that was born in the 1940s out of disillusionment with the fundamentalist movement.

The story has been told over and over again by scholars such as George Marsden, Mark Noll and Joel Carpenter (to name just a few). Put simply, “evangelical” includes “fundamentalist” but not all evangelicals are fundamentalists.  Put another way, fundamentalists are evangelicals, but since the 1940s, at least, there are many evangelicals who are not fundamentalists.

Of course, one of my projects has been to point out that in the last three decades many people who are more like the old fundamentalists than like the new evangelicals, in terms of ethos, are calling themselves “conservative evangelicals” and trying to push many of us who are more like the new evangelicals out of the evangelical movement.  An example, in my opinion, is Al Mohler calling me “postevangelical.”

I claim that my ethos is not essentially different from the evangelical ethos I learned and came to embrace in seminary (North American Baptist Seminary) in the 1970s. My evangelical ethos is closer to the original one of the National Association of Evangelicals than to that of many self-identified “conservative evangelicals” who, in my opinion, operate out of an ethos more like the old fundamentalist one against which the new evangelicals rebelled.

What do fundamentalists, conservative evangelicals and postfundamentalist/postconservative evangelicals have in common? Much.

All of us, as evangelical Protestant Christians, believe in 1) the supreme authority of inspired Scripture for faith and practice, 2) basic Christian orthodoxy as embodied in the consensus of the church fathers and reformers about the deity and humanity of Jesus Christ, the Trinity, etc., 3) a supernatural worldview, 4) salvation by God’s grace through faith alone, 5) personal conversion as normative for authentic Christianity, 6) the cross of Jesus Christ as the only means of salvation and as vicarious atonement, 7) the virgin birth, resurrection and visible return of Jesus Christ.

The distinctive hallmarks of post-1925 fundamentalism are 1) adding to those essentials of Christianity non-essentials such as premillennial eschatology, 2) “biblical separation” as the duty of every Christian to refuse fellowship with people who call themselves Christians but are considered doctrinally or morally impure, 3) a chronically negative and critical attitude toward culture including non-fundamentalist higher education, 4) emphatic anti-evolution, anti-communist, anti-Catholic and anti-ecumenical attitudes and actions (including elevation of young earth creationism and American exceptionalism as markers of authentic Christianity), 5) emphasis on verbal inspiration and technical inerrancy of the Bible as necessary for real Christianity (including exclusion of all biblical criticism and, often, exclusive use the KJV), and 6) a general tendency to require adherence to traditional lifestyle norms (hair, clothes, entertainment, sex roles, etc.).

Who were these post-1925 fundamentalists? Not all of these embodied all six of the above hallmarks, but they generally functioned within that ethos: William Bell Riley, Frank Norris, Bob Jones, Carl McIntire, John R. Rice and the early Jerry Falwell. And many, many more. Most of them were non-Reformed, but there was a Reformed camp of fundamentalists who shared that ethos without premillennialism. (I would locate Cornelius Van Til there.)

How did the postfundamentalist evangelicals differ from them? Beginning in the 1940s and increasingly throughout the 1950s former self-identified fundamentalists began to shy away from that identity and ethos without embracing liberalism or neo-orthodoxy. They 1) sought to establish ecumenical cooperation and fellowship among evangelicals who disagreed about non-essentials such as eschatology and predestination [“generous orthodoxy”], 2) sought to be cautiously open to secular culture and higher education and its products, and 3) sought to overcome legalism that had become characteristic of much fundamentalism.

In other words, the main difference between the new evangelicals and the fundamentalists was one of ethos—at least from the new evangelical point of view. From the fundamentalist point of view, of course, the difference was more than one of ethos. It was often viewed as one of departure from the gospel.

The new evangelicalism was to be a broad tent that included everyone from conservative Presbyterians to Pentecostals to Advent Christians to Nazarenes to (recently) the Worldwide Church of God. Fundamentalists were invited to join but declined. Still, formally speaking, fundamentalists are evangelicals and, to liberals, anyway, all evangelicals are fundamentalists.

As an heir of and scholar working within the new evangelicalism movement I have found it necessary to warn fellow new evangelicals about a neo-fundamentalism taking shape and growing among us. Its adherents are not exactly like the older fundamentalists, so it’s not easy to identify them. For one thing, they don’t call themselves fundamentalists. They call themselves conservative evangelicals and attempt to style themselves as mainstream evangelicals, even “confessional evangelicals” and so forth. (Using positive-sounding labels that imply THEY are the “real” evangelical heirs of the postfundamentalist evangelical movement.)

Why does it matter? Why do I and others bother to sound the warning alarm about this? Because much is at stake. First, the nature of the gospel is at stake. These people, like the older fundamentalists (some of whom are still around) wish to “enrich” the gospel and evangelicalism with doctrines not all new evangelicals believe. But they pretend that all “real” evangelicals always believed them. In their hands, the gospel becomes a system of theology virtually identical with that of Charles Hodge and the Old School Princeton Theology of the 19^th century. The gospel becomes a new law, system of orthodoxy, that requires adherence without mental reservation for salvation or at least for discipleship. In their hands, for example, being evangelical requires not only right beliefs but right way of believing—that is, foundationalism.

Second, the wonderful network of trans-denominational parachurch organizations (colleges, universities, seminaries, mission agencies, world relief agencies, publishers, etc.) is at stake. The new fundamentalists are out to take them over. There is no doubt about that in my mind. I experienced it “extremely loud and incredibly close.” So have many of my colleagues who spent much of their lives in Southern Baptist institutions and were forced into exile by the new fundamentalists. Now the same people, joined by others, are attempting to do with evangelicalism what they did with the Southern Baptist Convention and its seminaries.

The problem is that these new fundamentalists, who are, admittedly, evangelicals too, are not easy to identify. They pass themselves off as mainstream evangelicals, the heirs of Carl Henry, for example. Henry, however, denied that inerrancy was a litmus test of authentic evangelical faith. And, as strongly opinionated as he was about many matters, he attempted to keep the evangelical “tent” broad and inclusive.

I identify the new fundamentalists by their ethos which I find to be similar in many ways to that of the older fundamentalists. They are evangelicals who TEND to 1) spend much energy searching for and identifying heresies among evangelicals, 2) focus a lot of attention on identifying “evangelical boundaries” and solidifying them by demonstrating that some evangelicals are “outside the boundaries,” 3) add non-essential doctrines to the essentials of evangelicalism (boundaries) such as biblical inerrancy, young earth creationism, monergistic salvation and/or penal substitutionary atonement, 4) find nothing of value in non-Christian culture—especially philosophy, psychology and sociology, 5) attempt to frighten the faithful about “doctrinal drift” and “defection from the faith” where those do not really exist.

Remember, I’m talking about an ethos here, not a set of absolute markers or even characteristics those who display them are fully aware of (they would no doubt deny some of them).

Who am I to talk this way? Am I just someone on the sidelines crying “wolf!” when there is no wolf? I don’t think so. Of course, that’s for you to decide. But I have been in this evangelical movement my entire life and have had very keen interest in it most of my adult life. I have been editor of an evangelical scholarly journal, contributing editor to Christianity Today for quite a few years, chair of the Evangelical Studies Group of the American Academy of Religion, professor of theology in three Christian universities strongly historically identified with evangelicalism, author of numerous articles and several books dealing with evangelicalism. I have seen with my own eyes and experienced directly this attempted takeover of the evangelical movement by new fundamentalists.

An analogy is what has happened to the Republican Party in the United States. I can remember when it included influential moderates such as Nelson Rockefeller, John Anderson, Mark Hatfield and many others. Now moderates are unwelcome in the party. The party has been virtually taken over by people who in the 1950s and 1960s would have been considered radically right wing in their economic views.

People ask me all the time “Roger, why don’t you just give up calling yourself ‘evangelical’ and admit you’ve lost it? ‘Evangelical’ now means ‘fundamentalist’.” Call me stubborn and a champion of lost causes, but even if I go to my grave the only moderate evangelical left that’s what I will be calling myself. I hope others will join me in this and not abandon the label and the movement to the new fundamentalists. (Many of the people who ask me that still call themselves Baptist when, to most people in America, “Baptist” is virtually equated with “fundamentalist.” Why don’t they give up calling themselves Baptist?)

Something I’ve been reading set me off on this post. I’ve been reading articles by a certain, not-to-be-named evangelical philosopher/theologian who finds something good and right and helpful in a postmodern, even deconstructionist, philosopher’s musings. He carefully dissects the philosopher’s thoughts, pointing out the benefit for all Christians, evangelicals included, of exposure of idols, while also pointing out areas of the philosopher’s thought that are theologically weak and probably should be avoided. But he’s very adroit at pointing out the fact that in this particular deconstructionist philosopher’s writings, the non-Christian elements seem to stand in tension with the ideas that are beneficial to Christians. The latter could, if followed out consistently, reform the former and help even this philosopher move closer to the kingdom.

This evangelical philosopher/theologian’s work in the area of postmodernity and deconstruction is profound. It displays first hand acquaintance and real understanding of postmodern philosophy. He does not rely on other evangelical sources; he reads the philosophers themselves. What he finds is not exactly the “standard evangelical line” about postmodernism and deconstructionism. For that alone, being cautiously and critically open to postmodernism and deconstructionism, he was denied tenure at an evangelical institution of higher education. That’s new fundamentalism at work. At that same evangelical institution of higher education, not many years ago, the governing board ordered the president to stop the faculty from introducing liberation theology to students in any manner or form. They did not want the students even to know what liberation theology is. All teaching about liberation theology was to stop. Of course, the president refused and was fired. New fundamentalism at work.

Do I know about these and similar events merely anecdotally? No. I have them from the primary sources. I know people on both sides personally. And I’ve been there myself—in a similar situation where we (theology faculty) were ordered by an administration to cease and desist all teaching about open theism. New fundamentalism at work. I was told face-to-face by a powerful pastor that he would get me fired for not siding with him in his attempt to get an open theist colleague fired. New fundamentalism at work. I was invited to speak at a conference of new fundamentalists (who, of course, consider themselves mainstream evangelicals). Not once during the several days long conference would one of them sit with me at a meal. “Biblical separation” at work, new fundamentalism at work. (No “table fellowship” with heretics!)

Something truly awful is stirring within evangelicalism. It’s directly analogous to what has happened in the Republican Party. I call on moderate evangelical leaders to stand up and speak out against it. So far most have not. None dare call it fundamentalism.

Olson/Patheos

--Nick

21 Jump Street, a brief review

I've never seen the original show, and I have little interest in doing so. However, this little film completely surprised me. I will sketch seven reasons why you should go see this flick.

1) The comedy is rarely shock-inducing (though I'm not opposed to that kind of comedy), relying on buddy chemistry and dialogue. Each scene has specific comedic beats and it manages to nail them each time. Jonah Hill and Tatum work wonders with a great script.

2) The acting is stellar, with Tatum appearing shirtless not once. And he's damn funny. I think he should explore more roles like this.

3) The action scenes are competent and actually have an air of originality. I won't spoil anything, but chemistry is pretty awesome. While Hot Fuzz had the gross out factor, 21 Jump Street has it's tongue planted firmly in cheek and manages to show off some sweet kill shots.

4) The guys who directed Chicken Run directed this.

5) There is a point to the movie, and on top of lampooning cliche and embracing cliche the film works incredibly well. Each time there is a chance to exploit a joke, the writers don't do it. They play by the rule of comedic thirds, but they expand upon the spirit of said rules.

6) My sister squealed when she spotted an unsuspecting cameo. I actually laughed as well.

7) I actually laughed several times during each ten minute segment, more than fulfilling "Nick's Comedy Timing."*

Go see it.

4 out of 5 stars.

--Nick

* -- for a comedy to be good (and this is subjective), I expect one laugh (also subjective) every ten minutes. Roughly 10 laughs per film. I got more than double that in this film.

"Adults Should Read Adult Books"; a brief response to Joel Stein

I recently read this post. Here is the link:

NY Times/ Joel Stein

In essence, Joel is writing that adults should -- well -- only read adult books.

This is problematic for several reasons.

1) He never defines what constitutes an adult book. He misses the simple fact that adults can write books for children and explore complex themes within them. Read George MacDonald. He wrote about universalism, theodicy and suffering within fantasy. And often for children. See C.S. Lewis as well.

2) I agree with him about Twilight, but I could care less if an adult (which he makes out to be a man in order to humiliate -- I wonder if Joel would have the same response if an adult woman was seen reading Twilight) reads a book. Freedom entails people are allowed to read whatever they please. This includes Joel's column.

3) The issue is, Joel essentially dismisses all literature he deems as "non-adult" and sweeps them under the rug without first having done his own research. For all he knows, these books tackle appropriate themes and issues of identity. About how they do so and to what degree they are effective is an entirely different argument. Joel is begging the question.

4) I think much of Joel's response is a reaction against a personal preference, and he extrapolates this above into something larger. This is where personal preference comes in, and frankly, I'm not convinced Joel is thinking outside the bounds of his own little box. Which is what reading adult books ought to teach.

Except children's books can very easily teach tolerance and kindness.

5) Joel also misses another simple fact: teachers often require students to go out and see movies. And, since Mass Effect 3 is just out and reads like a novel in of itself, again I think Joel is simply reacting against something he doesn't like in a childish way.

This is not a call for Joel to read The Hunger Games. Frankly, I could care less if he does at this point. However, I do think Joel is not only condescending but also grossly misinformed. A reflective man would realize that there are different modes of communication and expression within art and this can easily be reflected in books for children or young adults. I see no reason why an adult can't enjoy a book for young adults.

I don't like Twilight, because I think it was poorly written, illogical and a prime example of boy-idolatry. That said, I'm glad I read it because now I have an informed opinion about it and can confidently articulate my thoughts.

Joel has not read it, and since he has not read it, I think quoting Christopher Hitchens is enough:

"That which can be asserted without evidence, can be dismissed without evidence."

I think Joel's piece on this matter fits in perfectly with Hitchen's paradigm.

--Nick

Conditional Futurism: New Perspective of End-Times Prophecy, a (not so) brief review

Tackling anything remotely theological these days is no small task. From Mark Driscoll’s “Real Marriage” to Rob Bell’s “Love Wins,” there is always something currently charged in the air within Christendom. And the nature of prophecy as it applies to the future is no less controversial. It deals with the creation of a new interpretive lens and collapses in a culmination at the very gates of Revelation.

Simply put, “Conditional Futurism” is the lens of which prophecy is conditional. Or, rather, that while the word and purpose of the Lord never alters, the outcome of the word of the Lord can vary. Prophecy, according to author James Goetz, is often if not always conditional, and based upon cause and effect.

“If this, then this.”

He cites abundant Scriptures, and often it seems his case is simply to let Scripture stand on it’s own. At the very beginning of the book, Goetz simply quotes God’s words in Jeremiah 18:7-8 which state, “If at any time I announce that a nation or kingdom is to be uprooted, torn down and destroyed, and if that nation I warned repents of its evil, then I will relent and not inflict on it the disaster I had planned.” See also the story of Jonah and Ninevah for another example.

James realizes that this theme of conditional prophecy is not limited to a few isolated texts. Rather, James begins with Genesis and the Mosaic Covenant and works through the Davidic Dynasty to the Gospels and finally ends up at the always open gates of Revelation. The work is consistently engaging and offers quite a bit of support, always deferring to Scripture and often allowing Scripture to speak on it’s own.

There are some elements that I do think James could’ve engaged with in a stronger fashion. There are several different types of prophecy used throughout Scripture, and for the layman who knows little of the finer points, it would’ve been helpful to include a chapter or section exploring the various methods. Very easily, this could lead to a flattening of typology in various prophetic methods. I am not certain James does indeed flatten said typology, but I do think this is an area that could’ve used greater explanation.

“If I say to a wicked person, ‘You will surely die,’ but they then turn away from their sin and do what is just and right — if they give back what they took in pledge for a loan, returns what they have stolen, follows the decrees that give life, and do no evil — that person will surely life; they shall not die.” Ezekiel 33:14-15

The single strongest part of the entire book comes in two chapters near the end. The first chapter is an exegetical study on the letters of 1 and 2 Peter, with specific preference placed on the harrowing of hell, or Christ’s descent into hell. Here. James offers multiple interpretive methods, pulling from Aquinas, Gregory of Nyssa, Origen and Augustine. After showing several interpretations, James delves into his perspective on why these passages support postmortem salvation. Not only was postmortem salvation considered a valid option, it was indeed a dominant option within the early church fathers as the Apostles. Sees the Apostles Creed. James concludes this strong section with his belief that Jesus’s descent included the gospel being proclaimed and salvation being offered to all who dwelt in hell. This is the most controversial part of the entire book, and also the most interesting. Though I already had a fairly strong belief in the possibility of postmortem salvation based on my own research, James’ exegesis has swayed me even closer to embracing the view. For modern theologians who propose the harrowing of hell belief, see Jurgen Moltmann’s “Descent into Hell” and Hans Urs von Balthasar’s “Mysterium Paschale.”

Within this chapter includes several far more speculative elements. James touches on the nephilim in Genesis 6:1-8, and his findings are fascinating. James draws from the Book of Enoch and and Scripture, concluding that indeed some fallen angels who disregarded their charge to guard humans and instead married women. He makes this claim that these spirits within Peter were human angelophanies based on the following evidence:

It is consistent with modern and ancient understandings of mammalians reproduction. It is consistent with Numbers 13:31-33, which says that the sons of Anak descended from the nephilim. Their appearance, according to Numbers, was like grasshoppers. This also includes Genesis 6 and the judgments that befell the human race, which makes sense if these beings are indeed human of some sort. This includes the wickedness of both pure human and the offspring. All of the wickedness could include these “spirits.” You also have Hebrews 13:2 which says that some people showed kindness to angels while thinking those angels were human. This seems to be a possibility for the spirits imprisoned and that Christ’s appearance offers conditional salvation. Simply put, I’m not convinced by this, but I do find it compelling enough to do my own research. In fact, I would argue that I am indeed excited to further explore the idea.

“Therefore, your majesty, be pleased to accept my advice: renounce your sins by doing what is right, and your wickedness by being kind to the oppressed. It may be that then your prosperity will continue.” Daniel 4:27.

The final chapter deals with judgment and the book of Revelation. This is by far the most complex chapter in the entire book. James begins with his research into the “kings of the earth,” showing the complexity of the phrase throughout. It is used 14 times in the book of Revelation, and it offers multiple perspectives on their meaning. Revelation 1:5 tells use that Christ rules the kings, while Revelation 17:8 tells use that the prostitute instead is their ruler. I’m not of the opinion that Scripture contradicts itself, so we have to be very careful how to interpret everything within this incredibly symbolic book. It is this research that leads James to conclude that the gates of Revelation never close and the kings of the earth are shown entering, and this is consistent with postmortem salvation for those who choose it. I’m not convinced that Revelation teaches the potential postmortem salvation of those outside the gates because of various factors (the second death being one), but it does not strike me as outlandish to believe what James proposes. And his conclusions is gracious enough to allow for future distinction.

Conditional Futurism doesn’t demand postmortem conversion, but it is consistent with it and I believe that James, whether or not he is ultimately successful in his writings, has indeed made it a priority to respect Scripture and maintain a biblically systematic consistency. For a wider case, I recommend Gregory MacDonald’s “The Evangelical Universalist.”

James has kept his personal life uninvolved from the scholarship shown, and for mostly good reason. It is very easy to write off an individual if they proclaim passionately a biblical view one disagrees with. Though this can make for a dry read given how much data is being presented, it does allow the reader to simply wrestle with the data itself and not the passion of the writer. This is entirely subjective, and I believe it worked in a positive manner.

However, in the final chapter after James has worked through objections to postmortem salvation and the kings of the earth, he delves into some brief personal revelations about his past resignation from his ministry due to his belief in postmortem conversions. He gives examples of Carlton Pearson who became an inclusive universalist, which James believes is incapable with conditional futurism as conditional futurism depends solely on Christ for salvation. James also touches on Rob Bell’s “Love Wins,” which he believes is feasible with conditional futurism. James is an exclusivist it seems, and everything from postmortem salvation to universalism must be filtered solely and exclusively through Jesus Christ. Opponents will and should appreciate this exclusive emphasis.

“Do I take any pleasure in the death of the wicked? declares the sovereign Lord. Rather, am I not pleased when they turn from their ways and live?” Ezekiel 18:23.

Overall, this book was refreshing. It lacks emotional manipulation and offers countless Scriptures to wrestle with. It offers a unique perspective on the “spirits” in prison, and makes a compelling case for the nature of angelic beings. James’ case for postmortem salvation is strong and I am now confident in openly expressing my support of his conclusions on that topic. I’m not entirely convinced of “conditional futurism” as the lacking elements above show, but I do believe this is a reasonable approach to Scripture and I believe there is room for further dialogue on this topic.

To the conversation here, and to the conversation in the beyond.

4 stars out of 5.

--Nick

Site of review, The Christian Manifesto

--resource publications an imprint of Wipf and Stock publishing--

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, a brief review

His father was a drinker
And his mother cried in bed
Folding John Wayne’s t-shirts
When the swingset hit his head

Based on Stieg Larsson’s best-selling novel, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo is decidedly David Fincher’s best film, and decidedly his most morally thematic. The story follows a disgraced journalist named Mikael (Daniel Craig) who is hired by an old Swedish patriarch to uncover an unsolved murder that has festered away for over 40 years. In over his head, Mikael brings aboard a computer specialist and muckraker Lisbeth Salander (Rooney Mara). Together, they begin to unravel a family tapestry of deceit, ambiguity and the nature of radical depravity.

The neighbors they adored him
For his humor and his conversation
Look underneath the house there
Find the few living things, rotting fast, in their sleep
Oh, the dead

Filled with gloomy shots that evoke living shadows and naked corridors, TGWTDT is both haunting and cold, not unlike most of Fincher’s work. The constant tension of rain and snow and cold contributes to the overall gentle horror that the narrative conjures up. Dealing especially with sexuality and the abuse of it, Fincher and writer Steven Zaillian (Schindler’s List) spare no expense in showcasing extreme brutality. The much-talked about rape scene never cuts away through much of the act, but the subsequent fallout of physical degradation experienced by the character truly doesn’t blink. While I'm not convinced that showcasing the entire forced sexual act was necessary, it does paint a painful and gut-wrenching aftermath of emotional and physical turmoil. Frankly, I'm not certain about if it was justified, so I will simply leave my concerns right where they lay.

Twenty-seven people
Even more, they were boys
With their cars, summer jobs
Oh my God
Are you one of them?

He dressed up like a clown for them
With his face paint white and red
And on his best behavior
In a dark room on the bed
He kissed them all

Though bolstered by a solid performance by Daniel Craig, Rooney Mara inhabits Lisbeth like a second skin. This is her show, and she commands every scene she is in. She is a woman who is in tight control of herself, but when she slips, it is truly apocalyptic. Her retributive encounter with a rapist is as brutal as the rape scene itself, but is ambiguous in the sense of whether or not her vengeance fulfills. I’m inclined to see it not as a feminist retaliation, which is likely what the authors and filmmakers intended, but as a very human response and a desire for control. Of course, they could be the same thing. As those who control her did awful things, so must she do everything she can to regain said control. Like I said, Fincher thrives on ambiguity and the film feels slightly scattered because of it. This is more than likely a personal objection rather than an objective one, but I felt like noting it.

He’d kill ten thousand people
With a sleight of his hand
Running far, running fast to the dead
He took off all their clothes for them
He put a cloth on their lips
Quiet hands, quiet kiss on the mouth

It needn’t be repeated that TGWTDT is not for the faint of heart. The film is darker than most of the film’s I’ve sat through, and I would not recommend this to most of my friends. On a purely technical basis, this film is flawless. The storytelling is compact, with only scattered instances of exposition, and the imagery is simultaneously harsh and haunting. I’m predicting several nominations, among them Best Actress and Director.

The biggest flaw seems to be the ending, which is almost too quiet for it’s own good. It seems as if Fincher wanted to keep the ambiguity, but in the end, it felt anti-climactic. This does not derail the film, but it feels forced. Perhaps this is simply realism. Perhaps this is in keeping with Fincher's worldview. 

Perhaps this simply is what it is.

And in my best behavior
I am really just like him
Look beneath the floor boards
For the secrets I have hid

Maybe that is the best and worst thing about this film – in illuminating the darkest parts of humanity’s soul, it never blinks. It continues to stare and gape and shiver along with the coldest settlements on humanity's depraved encampment. It never blinks. 

And it dares us to do so.

4 out of 5.

The original review on TCM

--Nick