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Christian Millennials and Same-Sex Weddings

With the ever shifting tides of social norms in America, Christian Millennials will need to answer questions that haven’t really been asked in previous eras. This, of course, is not unique to Millennials; each generation is endowed with its own sets of advantages and challenges. One of the unique questions that Millennials will need to answer is, “Will you be attending (insert gay friend or family member’s name here) ‘wedding’?” Obviously, every age group will have some proximity to this question, but the Millennials are the ones who are living in the midst of this cultural change. It’s our friends who are getting “married.” We’re the ones being asked to be best men and maids of honor. Our generation is the first “same-sex marriage” generation.

Given that this glaring reality is staring Millennials in the face, I think it’s appropriate for Christian Millennials to think carefully through this issue, and the implications of our various responses. Clearly this is a hot-button issue, and experience has already shown me that saying anything about this subject is bound to start a fire-storm of controversy. Just know that it’s not my desire to offend anyone, but I’m going to argue that, when Christians are asked to attend a same-sex “wedding,” their response should be to humbly, lovingly, decline.

(Much of what I have to say here has been said before by John Piper here and Kevin DeYoung here; both of these resources have been really helpful to me)

Why not go?

The most fundamental reason is that such a “wedding” is no wedding at all. As Christians, the Bible is our final authority for faith and practice, especially with regard to topics that it itself explicitly addresses; and the Bible pretty explicitly addresses marriage. It is the covenant union between one man and one woman, joined together by God himself (Genesis 2:18-25, Matthew 19:3-9, Ephesians 5:22-33). The legal union between two people of the same sex may be something, but it will never be marriage. Marriage is something that has been established by God into the very fabric of reality itself; and legislation can’t possibly touch it.

Now, at this point some might be tempted bring up Romans 13. Aren’t we supposed to be subject to our governing authorities? My answer is yes, but only within the sphere that our governing authority has sovereignty over. If I turn on the television to discover that congress has passed a bill to annul the law of gravity, I’m not going to celebrate by walking off the building. Why? Because congress has no authority over the law of gravity. That law is outside of congress’ jurisdiction.The same is true with regard to marriage; it’s an untouchable reality. No sooner could congress establish a law that triangles have four angles. So (as R.C. Sproul Jr. has so helpfully pointed out) to attend such an event is to encourage the delusion of those involved.

But what’s even worse, to attend a same-sex “wedding” is to celebrate sin.

Let’s use another example; imagine for a moment that our culture was to descend into such depravity that people start throwing “Porn-subscription Parties.” Imagine you get an invitation in the mail that reads, “John Doe would like to cordially invite you to celebrate his subscription to Extra-X Porn company: the party will be held at…” Now, even if there’s no porn being watched at this imaginary party, I should like to think that Christians would know to decline such an invitation. Why? Because the invitation is to “celebrate his subscription” to sin. “I don’t want to celebrate that!” ought to be our response. Or worse yet, imagine it’s a wedding between a 40 year-old man and 9 year-old girl. With both of these situations the answer is (I think) clear; we don’t want to celebrate sin.

Yet celebration is exactly what we do when we attend weddings. We are there to solemnize and affirm the union; it’s a joyous occasion. That’s why traditional weddings has that part in there that says, “If anyone has any objections to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace;” the silence that follows is the affirmation of the union. However, if the Bible is right about sin, the “wedding” of a same-sex couple is not a joyous occasion. It’s a tragedy! What is the Christian attendee supposed to do when the official says, “I now pronounce you husband and husband”? Is he to clap? Is he to weep? As a Christian, I don’t believe there’s any way to reconcile the inconsistency of his disapproval of what’s happening and his presence there as an attendee. The purpose of the event is to fundamentally celebrate sin, and Christians simply can’t do that.

Can’t we use it for evangelism?

This is the million-dollar question, isn’t it? What if I go there to show the love of Jesus; to show some grace? I can certainly empathize with this impulse. After all, didn’t Jesus hang out with sinners? Didn’t Paul say that it’s not the sexually immoral of this world that we’re to distance ourselves from; insinuating that we should associate with them? Not only that, but Paul even says, “I have become all things to all people, that by all means I might save some.” (1 Corinthians 9:22).

However, I think we might be hasty to assume that these examples give us license to attend a celebration of sin. First of all, there’s no reason to believe that Jesus was in any way overlooking or affirming the sins of the sinners he was hanging around. In fact, his habit was to tell them stop sinning.

Additionally, there is a huge difference between associating with sinners and affirming their sins. If a non-believing gay friend asks you to attend his birthday party, you should most definitely go! Why? Because the birthday party is not intrinsically a celebration of sin, but his “wedding” is. We should remember that the Paul who instructs us to associate with sexually immoral of this world--who became “all things to all people, that by all means [he] might save some--is the same Paul who strictly forbade Roman Christians to join in the pagan drinking parties (which would turn into orgies) which were prevalent in their particular culture (Romans 13:13-14). Why? Because becoming all things to all people does not involve the celebration of all peoples’ sin.

But even more fundamentally, a Christian’s presence at a same-sex “wedding” is actually not helping his witness; it’s hurting it. A Christian who attends a same-sex “wedding” may think he’s bringing the gospel, but he’s actually undermining it. How is this? Well, let’s just define our terms for a moment. The gospel is the good news of what Jesus has accomplished with his life, death, and resurrection. What makes the Gospel good news is the bad news of sin; that our sin brings upon us the rightful wrath of God. The good news is the free grace of God, righteously satisfing his wrath for our sin by nailing it to the cross in Jesus Christ. It’s the forgiveness which was purchased by the blood of Jesus, which is rendered to those who are reconciled to Christ by faith and repentance.

In other words, the Gospel is only sweet to those who consider the taste of sin to be bitter. Jesus says, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I have not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance.” (Luke 5:31-32) A sinner will never repent if he sees no sin to repent of. A sick man will never seek a physician if he thinks himself to be healthy. Paul says, “Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.” (2 Corinthians 5:20) When we beg people to be reconciled to God, we are presupposing that reconciliation is necessary.

So when we refuse to identify sin--with our words or with our actions--we’re not actually being “gospel centered.” No, we’re actually robbing the gospel of its potency. The crucifixion was not God’s way of ignoring sin. The very worst thing that could possibly be said about our sin was said there, “Your sin is so heinous,” the blood of Jesus cries out, “that the only thing that can atone for it is divine blood.” The notion that Jesus ignored the sin of those he interacted with, in the name of love, goes against the foundational Christian concept of the atonement. Love was demonstrated by not ignoring sin.

Grace is only for sinners. It’s actually quite unloving to encourage people in the very activity that will send them to hell, when we in fact harold the only message that can save them; a message that needs both halves (1 Corinthians 6:9-11).

The problem with cool-shaming

Now, all of this sounds difficult because what we want is to develop significant relationships with our non-believing friends, and we know that all of this would not go over well in a coffee-conversation with them. However, that’s not the determining factor for whether or not we are being effective witnesses to our gay friends. So often, we think that having a great witness is to be well thought of by non-believers; and in fact, that is something we should strive for, insofar as we are able. However, often I think that us Millennials justify our incredible lust for the approval of our non-believing peers by calling it “striving for a good witness.” Our worst nightmare is to be called an intolerant bigot; we’re terrified of being labeled a fundamentalist.

But listen, that’s where our strength is found. I’m not saying our strength is found in being a bigot, I’m saying that it’s found in saying the sort of thing that actually offends people. This is the beauty of God’s ironic process; he ordains to save sinners in the most counter-intuitive way: offending them. It pleased God through “the folly of what we preach to save sinners” (1 Corinthians 1:18-31).

We need to reconcile with the fact, right now, that we will never be “cool” in the eyes of this world. For Christian Millennials, this pill can be too hard to swallow; we want to have our cake and eat it too. But 2 Corinthians 2:14-17 makes it pretty clear that this will never happen. The fragrance we give off as Christians will always smell sweet to some, and horrible to others. The Holy Spirit is the only one who can possibly convict sinners of sin, and turn the repulsive, foolish message we preach into good news for them. But our job is simple; we are harolds. We are impartial. We proclaim that sinners need salvation from their sin, and that God has provided it in the person and work of His Son. We give off the aroma of Christ, and we let the chips fall where they may.

We will never experience the delight of being the sweet aroma of life to those who are being saved until we’re willing to be the stench of death to those who are perishing.

So please, don’t undermine the gospel you bring to your gay friends by being inconsistent with it. Lovingly decline, and may it serve as an opportunity to share with them the same good news that brought you from death to life.

Who Has the Final Word?

What We Mean When We Say “Authority”

Authority is the ultimate issue. It is what drives our actions and reactions. We are dictated by what we recognize as our authority. Whether or not a small boy gets to spend the night at a friend’s house hinges on the approval of his parents—his authorities. Whether or not a driver is allowed to drive 35mph or 65mph hinges on the law—the speed limit is his authority. At some point, we all have to identify an ultimate authority by which every decision is judged. Think of it as a supreme court of the mind; the highest authority to appeal to for all of our decisions.

To be a Christian means to identify the Scriptures as the ultimate authority. This doctrine is what the reformers described as Sola Scriptura—Scripture Alone—and it means that any desire or decision that collides with the teachings of Scripture is to be rejected by default. Sure, we can use other means in the process of determining the value of a given desire or action; but ultimately, as Christians, our highest court of appeal is Scripture. Submission to the teachings of Scripture—in belief and practice—is not optional for the believer.

Says Who?

So why should Scripture be the ultimate authority over our lives? Because the Bible tells us so. Now, the careful reader will be quick to point out the circular nature of this response; this is what we call begging the question. I know it seems silly for me to assume what I’m trying to prove, but hang with me for a second. Isn’t this necessary? Think about it; in order for you to get anywhere, you have to start somewhere. An ultimate authority is by nature self-authoritative. The second you appeal to a higher authority to justify your highest authority is the second you have dethroned your highest authority in place of another (feel free to read that again if you need to). If I try to justify Scripture as my highest authority by ultimately appealing to anything other than Scripture, then Scripture is not actually my highest authority; something else stands over and above it, and has the power to validate or invalidate it.

So when we look to Scripture, what does it say about its own authority? We could go to a lot of places in the Bible to answer this question, but let’s just go to a few.

For starters, we have the classic passage of Paul’s second letter to Timothy, when he affirms that all Scripture is breathed out by God and is sufficient to make the “man of God…complete, equipped for every good work.” (2 Timothy 3:16-16) It would stand to reason that if the scriptures are the breathed out words of the Creator of the universe, they are authoritative. We could also turn to passages in the Old Testament that sing the accolades of the word of God, like Psalm 19, or Psalm 119, or Isaiah 55. But perhaps one of the most compelling examples of Scripture describing its self-authoritative nature can be found in the gospels, where Jesus himself submits to the authority of the Bible. In Matthew 4, Jesus responds to the temptations of Satan with Scripture; Jesus essentially said, “I can’t do that Satan, the Bible forbids it.” Or we could look at John 8, when Jesus dares his opponents to convict him of sin; that is, show him where he had broken the Law of God. Presumably, if Jesus could be seen as doing or saying anything in contradiction to Scripture, he would be wrong, and he would have been willing to admit it as well (Of course, Jesus would never do anything contrary to the authority of Scripture because he was the sinless Son of God—which is a teaching that we find in… yep, you guessed it: Scripture). This is what submission to authority means.

What Difference Does It Make?

So we can see that the authority of Scripture is important for us theologically and epistemologically (there’s your five-dollar word, feel free to impress people with it: epistemology is simply the branch of philosophy that teaches us how we can know what we know); but what about the practical level? Does the doctrine of the authority of Scripture apply to the real life of the church, where people live and eat and talk about things of everyday life? Or, as I like to put it, can this doctrine meet our fingertips, or is it to be stuck in our bloated cranium? The authority of Scripture is in fact important on the ground level, for both the pastor and his congregation.

For the pastor, the authority of Scripture is the doctrine that gives him the right to preach. Without the authority of Scripture, a preacher can’t preach; at best, he can stand up and share his ideas about some ancient text. How presumptuous and audacious does one have to be to assume that a group of people ought to come together every week—giving their time and their money—to simply hear him think out loud about any given idea? But if that group of people is coming to hear the word of God, the preacher isn’t being presumptuous, he’s being faithful. If people are coming to submit to their authority, then the pastor can declare with unction, “Thus says the Lord!” The authority of Scripture is at the heart of the preacher’s prerogative to preach; without it, he is powerless, and he is unable to justify boldness.

For the congregation, the authority of Scripture is the doctrine that protects them from being taken advantage of. It is the Scripture that they owe their full, unquestioning allegiance to; not their pastor. It is the Bible that the church must unabashedly obey; not a personality. Furthermore, submitting to the absolute authority of Scripture means not submitting to the constantly shifting social laws of the culture. In other words, the authority of Scripture is what gives the Christian the ability to remain a Christian in an increasingly non-Christian society. How much more practical could you possibly get?

Semantics and Sanctification

I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but “Sanctification” has been a hot topic in Reformed circles on the interweb as of late. Since I belong in this circle (I think I’m aloud to say that), I have a sort of vested interested, and would like to contribute to the already bloated mess. Hopefully this will be helpful for someone. The debate has really been between Tullian Tchividjian and...well… just about everyone else (ok that’s not entirely true, but it often feels that way). This blog will probably mean nothing to you unless you’re somewhat privy to what’s going on, so if you feel like it, you can read the initial series of blogs between Kevin DeYoung and Tullian Tchivjian (which pretty much got everything started) here.

Basically, this blog is going to be a brief analysis and critique of Tullian’s position.

A Commendable Effort 

Get it? Effort? Anyway… Honestly I think that Tullian is a little bit misunderstood. It seems like a lot of the debate is zoning in on Tullian’s failure to acknowledge the Third Use of the Law, but I think this is sort of missing the point (partly because, biblically speaking, the “three uses of the law” aren't all that helpful to use as a framework anyhow). I think Tullian is too quickly thrown aside as an Antinomian without giving his essential argument a fair hearing. As you'll see, I do think that his position is in danger of commending antinomianism, but not because of any fundamental error of his initial emphasis; I just think he doesn't work on his strong foundation carefully enough.

At the bottom of Tullian’s argument--motivationally, at least--is a love for the radical grace of God, and a restatement of that beautiful Augustinian adage: Love God, and do what you please. His main mantra is a biblical one: You can do nothing to achieve your justification! Your security is not to be found in what you do, but in what Christ has done for you. What orthodox Christian would ever disagree with that? Furthermore, he stresses the important point that obedience shouldn't come from a joyless, dutiful hireling, but from a grateful child. Tullian writes:

If any kind of obedience, regardless of what motivates it, is what God is after, He would have showcased the Pharisees and exhorted all of us to follow their lead, to imitate them. But he didn't. (One Way Love 53)

Even more, Tullian brings up an incredibly important concern about sanctification:

Many conclude that justification is step one and that sanctification is step two and that once we get to step two there’s no reason to go back to step one. Sanctification, in other words, is commonly understood as progress beyond the initial step of justification. (Work Hard!)

In other words, Tullian is addressing that terrible assumption that sanctification is essentially the process of needing grace less; he wants to smash that error to pieces. All good so far! I think these are the core of what Tullian is trying get after, and they are biblical, glorious gospel truths. The problem with Tullian is that he lays a great gospel foundation, and builds on it in a really sloppy way. With equivocation, he carelessly flattens categories and draws really crazy conclusions. He does this with three terms: law, effort, and grace.

Law

Law! What is it good for, Tullian?

“Absolutely nothin!” (well… he wouldn’t say “nothin,” but you get the idea)

Tullian’s categorizational error with respect to the law is maybe the most obvious of his blunders. He sets up the classic contrast between Law and Gospel; a very good thing to do (in fact, it’s one of Paul’s favorite things to do). It goes something like this: the law is given as a tutor--a sort of mean tutor, who is constantly telling us how much we suck--to teach us just how desperate our situation is. It gives us a certain standard by which we can judge ourselves. The problem is that the standard is nothing less than perfection, and we fall embarrassingly short; it’s there to condemn us, to show us that we will never attain to a level of righteousness that affords us the luxury of commending ourselves before God. Now comes the Gospel: Jesus comes to fulfill the law perfectly on our behalf, and by his substitutionary death, he imputes his perfection onto us by grace, which we receive through faith. The law lines up the pins, and the gospel runs em down! Beautiful! What’s wrong with that? Nothing; that is the gospel. Christ has done for us what we could never do for ourselves. The problem is that Tullian wants the gospel to bowl over things that need to be left standing tall.

The pins that the gospel is supposed to run down are just one kind of “law;” but the bible has more categories of “law” than just this one. DeYoung said it brilliantly:

Part of the confusion in all this is that “law” means different things in the Bible...So while we are not ‘under the law’ in the sense that we are condemned by the law or bound to the Old Covenant of Moses…, we are ‘under the law’ in so far as we are still obligated to obey our Lord and every expression of his will for our lives. (The Hole In Our Holiness 52)

In the beginning of Romans eight, Paul illustrates the gospel by describing how one kind of law frees the believer from another kind of law: “For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death.” (Rom. 8:3) So we are condemned by one kind of law (Gal. 3:10-23), and we are set free from that law by another kind of law (that is, the law of the Spirit; by uniting us in Christ, whereby we receive the righteousness necessary to free us from sin and death). The pins are law, and the bowling ball is a gloriously better law.

Yet it seems to me that Tullian is unable to make this kind of careful distinction; it almost seems like every imperative is tossed under the umbrella of only one kind of law, and is subsequently demolished by the gospel. In other words, his allegiance to his sweeping theological framework ties his hands, and doesn’t allow for him to be as nuanced as the bible is.

Furthermore, this sweeping theology forces him to flatten not only the word law, but also words related to law; like disobedience, for example.

Tullian writes,

Disobedience and moral laxity happens not when we think too much of justification by grace alone, through faith alone, in the finished work of Christ alone from start to finish, but when we think too little of it. (First things First)

Tullian is trying identify the essence of disobedience; to get to the root of the issue, which is a great and necessary thing to do. Unfortunately, he still doesn’t go deep enough. The essence of disobedience is not a forgetfulness of the gospel, it is a forgetfulness that God is glorious! The gospel is one of the ways this truth is flushed out; God is shown to be glorious by what he has accomplished through the cross, he is glorious because he has created man to be most happy when reconciled to his maker, he is glorious because of what he has built--namely, the church (or, as I like to call her, a mosaic of trophies of grace). But if none of this was true--if there was no gospel to forget--God would still be glorious, and disobedience would still have it’s essential makeup. In other words, Tullian makes the mistake of assuming that disobedience necessitates a gospel, when in fact it does not. Actually, disobedience precedes the gospel; it is the bad news that necessitates the good news! This last point can be controversial because it sounds like I’m not being gospel centered enough, but think about it. Tullian seems to be saying that the essence of virtue is remembering the gospel. But that is not the essence of virtue at all. The essence of virtue is glorifying God, and the gospel is a means to this end. Granted, it is the means; but it is still just that.

Effort 

What an appropriate segue. If, in Tullian’s mind, forgetting the gospel is the essence of disobedience, then what would be the essence of obedience but to remember the gospel? This is precisely where Tullian takes us:

Christ’s subjective work in us is his constantly driving us back to the reality of his objective work for us. (Work Hard!) 

In other words, remembering, revisiting, and rediscovering the reality of our justification every day is the hard work we’re called to do if we’re going to grow. (Work Hard!)

Notice Tullian’s totalizing language; the subjective work of Christ in a believer is something, and that something is the act of remembering. Now, Christ’s work in a believer is not less than directing his attention back to the gospel, but it most certainly is more than that. This is where things get a little bit tricky, because Tullian is close to a deeply profound truth (which I will discuss in more detail later), but I think he’s there accidentally. Scripture absolutely does link these two things together: thinking on the glorious truth of the gospel, and doing. But their relationship of cause and effect is motivational, not scientific. In other words, the thinking doesn’t automatically produce the doing; if thinking robotically produced doing, then the imperatives of the bible would be superfluous. Yet scripture is riddled with “since, then” language. We are not merely told the glorious indicatives of the Bible, we’re told to do something in response. Take Colossians 3 for example. Paul says, “Since you have been raised with Christ, [indicative] seek the things that are above [imperative].”

“Aha!” you might say, “This supports Tullian’s claim that the essential imperative of a Christian is to think on Christ!” This would be true if it weren’t for the rest of the chapter; but verses 5-25 have a lot of imperatives that are more than just “think on Christ.”

DeYoung is helpful here:

Good works should always be rooted in the good news of Christ’s death and resurrection, but I believe we are expecting too much from the “flow” and not doing enough to teach that obedience to the law--from a willing spirit, as made possible by the Holy Spirit--is the proper response to free grace. (The Hole In Our Holiness 55)

And we have another problem as well. Tullian never really describes how this imperative is different from any other in its most basic makeup. It’s just another work. So Tullian’s practical antinomianism really backfires here. DeYoung again:

The irony is that if we make every imperative into a command to believe the gospel more fully, we turn the gospel into one more thing we have to get right, and faith becomes the one thing we need to be better at. (The Hole In Our Holiness 55)

The problem is this, Tullian is trying to equate remembering with every other imperative that the believer is charged to perform in the New Testament, and that simply won’t work. His gospel is too small; the Good News is not only that Christ has justified us by virtue of his work on the cross, it is also the news that Christ empowers us to live righteously by the Strength of the Holy Spirit. This brings us to the last word that Tullian gets wrong.

Grace

Grace! Grace! More grace! One-way grace! Audacious grace! Sovereign grace! Yes. Amen and amen. I love thinking on the grace of God; it’s something that you can’t think on enough. There’s no such thing as emphasizing grace too much! Tullian’s problem is not that he needs to balance grace and works better, it’s that he needs to define grace better. We always want to preach grace; yes, but what kind of grace?

I would submit that Tullian’s idea of grace simply needs to get a backbone. Biblically speaking, grace is not the absence of commands. Grace certainly comes with commands, but it also comes to provide the desire to fulfill those demands, and it comes with the power to actually obey them. The reason I think Tullian misses this is because he writes things like this, “Because Jesus succeeded for you, you’re free to fail.” (One Way Love 36) Now, I want to give this brother the benefit of the doubt, but this sounds an awful lot like “sinning so that grace may abound” to me. This is what I mean when I say that Tullian is just not careful enough; a biblical understanding of grace would lead him to say, “Because Jesus succeeds for you, you are free to succeed in Him!” or “You’re failure did not disqualify you from having Jesus succeed on your behalf!” But he isn’t that careful; his grace is too thin--it just glosses over everything. Notice,

To be perfectly honest, in the short term, this message often does inspire the kind of sighs of relief and extended breathers that look a whole lot like nothing. But if a person can be given the space to bask in the Good News for a while... we just as often find that the Gospel of grace, in the long run, actually empowers risk-taking effort and neighbor-embracing love. It doesn’t have to, of course, which is precisely why it does. (One Way Love 188)

Did you catch that? Tullian is saying that grace makes good works optional; “grace doesn’t have to yield good works.” But this is so, utterly, unbiblical! I seem to remember reading somewhere that if someone knows to do good and fails to do it, his neglect is sin (James 4:17); which, to me, sounds like that person has to do that good work--maybe I’m crazy. Good works are not an added bonus to grace; they’re one of its primary ends! (Eph. 2:8-10, Rom. 8:29).

Here’s the thing, Tullian goes too far with his presumed implications of grace, because he is afraid that if we actually preach the imperatives of scripture with unction, we will lose grace. But his fearful precautions are unnecessary, because any genuine success in sanctification is going to be the gospel-driven kind. Christians who understand that they are saved by grace--who strive fervently to live in holiness, and succeed in various ways at putting to death the deeds of the flesh--will not have done so by leaving the grace of God behind; they will have done so by the power of the Holy Spirit, the promise of glorification, and the confidence of their justification—all of which were bought for them at Calvary.

The grace of God calls us righteous, and calls us to be righteous. In some cases this means chopping off our hands and gouging out our eyes; in these cases, grace not only calls us to this, but it provides for us the knife to do the cutting, and the motivation to get the job done.

A Closing Word on the Nature of Sanctification

The most ironic thing about all of this is that Tullian is actually on the cuff of something more profound than I think he’s aware of, and that is this; sanctification is primarily a work that happens to us passively, although not in the way he describes. This whole discussion of sanctification has been seriously overlooking what I will now only briefly mention. Our conformity to Christ is not primarily something that comes about through striving for personal holiness; conformity to Christ happens in God’s ironic process whereby he impresses circumstances upon our lives that bring about sanctification. Through “light and momentary afflictions,” God conforms us into the image of Christ; he beats us into glory through trials and tribulations. This is how God’s economy works, and it is counter-intuitive to the world; weakness yields strength, death yields gain, affliction yields glory.

Many of the Puritans' favorite imperatives of the New Testament are not given to individuals on their quest for personal holiness, but they are given to the corporate church so as to yield the proper fruits in the messy circumstances of living life together. In these cases, God impresses a difficult situation on believers (he places individuals in situations where they must bear with one another in corporate life) and he molds them into conformity to Christ there! They are to put off the old man (that is, Adam; the old humanity that loves sin) and to put on the new man (that is; Christ, the new humanity that loves holiness); which is a man who suffers for righteousness, casts away immorality, and rubs shoulders with people very different from himself. I know this may seem a little out-of-nowhere, but the point is this; Tullian’s main fault is that he’s too careless, which is particularly tragic because his intuition almost found him stumbling into a clincher on this whole sanctification debate.

The Pastor's Atonement

The Pastor's Atonement

A Brief Examination of Definite Atonement in Jared Wilson’s “The Pastor’s Justification”

I am deathly afraid of being presumptuous when dealing with another’s writing. This is particularly true of writers whom I deeply respect. With that being said, I would like to place the guilt of any special pleading squarely on the heads of my elders; who decided to charge me with the task of writing a theological analysis of an excellent book, written by a man who is much smarter than myself. If, in this post, I am putting words in the mouth of this man, I blame my pastors. 

I’d like to take a moment to explore one of the theological concepts that serves as a foundation for the pastoral exhortations in The Pastor’s Justification by Jared Wilson. A post like this runs the risk of being embarrassingly redundant, because Pastor Wilson does the work of unpacking orthodoxy for orthopraxy himself in the book. Nevertheless, I’m going to tackle one particular doctrine; namely, the atonement. Definite atonement, in fact. Now, this doctrine is never explicitly singled out as uniquely foundational in this book, but I think I can make a pretty good case for its position as the backbone of a lot of Wilson’s application. But first, let me make a point to say what this post is not. Obviously, it is not an exhaustive theological analysis of The Pastor’s Justification; there are many doctrines in play within this book, and Wilson plainly identifies most of them. Systematic theology is by nature akin to a spider’s web; each thread is woven to another, so to focus on one idea is to neglect many of the others to which it is closely connected. This post is also not position paper, defending the position of definite atonement (John Owen does a far better job at that than I could even dream of anyway); instead, I’m going to take the truth of this doctrine for granted here. It is therefore most helpful to read this post as a brief examination of definite atonement in The Pastor’s Justification. 

No Atonement, No Justification 

The obvious relevance of definite atonement in Wilson’s book is in the manner by which it makes his thesis possible to begin with. The tag of the book is Applying the Work of Christ in Your Life and Ministry. This is what gives the Pastor his justification; the work of Christ. And this work is… yep, you guessed it: the atonement. 

  

You cannot have justification without the atonement; the sacrificial work of Christ on the cross is precisely how God can be both the just and the justifier. This is probably the most important correlation between this doctrine and the book. In chapter one, the pastor is encouraged to be freed from the legalistic goals of worldly “success;” a freedom which has been purchased for him by virtue of Christ’s atonement. In chapter two, the pastor is charged with living up to the holiness that Christ has imputed to him; which were both (the holiness imputed, and the ability to actually live up to it) purchased for him at the cross. In chapter three, the pastor is charged to live in humility, being confident in his reconciliation to the Father apart from prideful endeavors; a reconciliation made possible only by the atoning work of Christ on his behalf. Chapter after chapter, Wilson encourages pastors to be secure in their position in Christ; a position which was secured at a costly, bloody price. 

  

Wilson writes,

When we see that the call to holiness is to an unattainable standard, we remember “the good news that was preached to us,” that while we were yet unholy, Christ died for us, and that his righteousness is now counted as our righteousness, as he has traded our filthy rags for the covering of himself…Make no mistake: he has declared us holy in Christ and he will make us so. He will complete the work he has begun in us. Pg. 57 

Total forgiveness, total security, total justification. Peter brings to mind Christ's death on the cross as the central point in his own pastoral vision and connects this vision to his status as a "partaker in the glory that is going to be revealed." Pg. 114 

  

Even though the pastor is an undershepherd, he is justified by virtue of being a sheep. The Good Shepherd laid down his life for his sheep, including his pastor-sheep. “The Good Shepherd wrote a check, signed it with his blood on the cross, and cashed it when he rose from the dead; and you, little pastor-sheep, can rest assured that you are a beneficiary! So go serve your fellow sheep; be their undershepherd and serve with the confidence of knowing that you’ve been justified by the Good Shepherd!” This is the main thrust of the book.   

Demonstrative Implications

However, this doctrine of definite atonement doesn’t stop at the general point of undergirding the main thesis of The Pastor’s Justification; it makes its way into the little nooks and crannies as well. Now, the primary role of the atonement is substitutionary; Jesus dies as a substitute for his church, taking her guilt as his own, and giving his righteousness as her own. This is the glorious great exchange made possible by union with Christ. This is how a pastor can "nail self-pity to the cross." (Pg. 25) It’s an activity only fit for the God-man; he did it once and for all. However, there is another way the atonement is described in the bible, which is as an example for Christians to follow. "Have this mind among you," says the apostle Paul to the Philippians, "which is yours in Christ." Paul tells his readers to be like Jesus; be like the man who humbled himself and poured out his life on a cross for the sake of his beloved--be like that guy! Think in categories of Macro and micro.

Macro-atonement: performed by Jesus, it serves to actually saves sinners.

Micro-atonement: performed by pastors, it serves to point people to Jesus, who actually saves sinners. 

The freedom from shameful gain is found in the cross of Christ, the shame of which our Savior scorned, counting all the privileges of his deity but loss for the surpassing worth of the Father's will in the purchase of the elect, by his blood, freely given. So let's talk about what we are owed. Jesus is the pastor who does his job; everybody else is the other guy. Pg. 38 

Pastoral ministry is cross-taking, and it is doing it out in front, for all to see, as much as in the privacy of the study or prayer closet, when the pastor is wrestling with the weight of the church. Pg. 65 

Because you are a present partaker in the glory to be revealed, a future partaker in the crown of glory, and a beneficiary of God's total saving dominion, you are free and empowered to shepherd the flock of God among you. You are justified in doing so by Christ's doing so. Pg. 114 

So the capitol "S" Shepherd--you know, the Good one--lays his life down for his sheep, and the little undershepherds are to be copy-cats and do the same thing for the flocks that are under their care. We have to be careful not to go too far here; a pastor cannot be the Savior of his flock. After all, as Wilson write, "You are not one flesh with your church, but with your wife. Christ will sanctify his bride; you sanctify yours." (Pg. 51) But there is a sense in which the pastor is charged to humbly pour out his life for the flock under his care, just like how Christ did. The way that Christ will sanctify his bride is by washing her with his word, and one of the ways he does that is through the pastor, who dispenses the word every Sunday Morning. 

More Wilson, 

Many Christians are focused on their own journey; the biblical pastor is too, but he's also focused on yours. Pg. 24 

Monday through Saturday, he is...pouring himself out in grace as often as he can for the flock...Then, in preaching, he is broken open upon the rock of Christ that the living water of Christ might flow out freely and flood the valleys of his people. Pg. 25 

And let's not miss the importance of the seemingly obvious phrase "that is among you." We frequently find ourselves trying to shepherd the flock of God that we want, the one we imagine them to be, the one we want them to be. But God through Peter commands us to shepherd the church we've actually got. Pg. 30 

That last quote is very important with respect to our exploration of definite atonement in this book. "Shepherd the flock of God that is among you," the pastor is told, “the one that you see from your pulpit.” There are actual faces of actual people with actual names in your actual flock. It is actual. It is real. It is definite. Definite atonement is the doctrine that says that Jesus didn't die for some undefined group; a faceless category (which is the same thing as saying he died for no one). He came from heaven to save his bride; he gave his life to justify and sanctify her. He laid down his life for his sheep; the same sheep that answer to his call because they know him, and he knows them. In the same way, the pastor is charged not to shepherd the flock in his mind; the nameless, faceless, ideal church of his imagination. His flock is made up of distinct individuals; he will pour out his life for them when he goes to their emergency counseling sessions, we visits them in the hospital, when he preaches their funerals, when he officiates their weddings, when he endures the same dreaded story for the hundredth time at the pot-luck. He can’t love his flock without loving them. He can’t pour his life out, in theory, for a category of folks; if he pours his life out, it must be for the individuals he sees week in and week out.

To Wrap it Up

In The Pastor's Justification, we see that the implications of the atonement oozes into every little crack and crevice of pastoral ministry. The pastor is justified by the self-giving atonement of his Shepherd, and it is his responsibility to be a self-giving undershepherd to his flock; this is how he will point his congregation to their one and only, true, Good Shepherd.