Kent: What is it about Charity and Its Fruits that made you want to re-release it in a new, more accessible version?

Kyle: First, there are already a lot of editions of Charity and Its Fruits floating around, but they all use Edwards’s great, great grandson’s text that is highly edited. This is one of the reasons I wanted to provide a new edition. Mine will be the first edition of Charity in its own volume that goes back to Edwards’s original. The only other time Edwards’s original is published is in the Yale critical edition which costs $150 and has two other works bound up with it. Second, Charity is an important work to understand Edwards and yet it is often forgotten behind his Religious Affections. Charity is less tied to the polemical environment of the revivals, and so it is a bit more purely Edwards’s theologizing. Edwards never wrote or spoke without polemical partners in mind, but this is as close as you get. Third, I tend to think that if you want to start reading Edwards, you should start with Charity. I like to call is Edwards’s spiritual theology, because you really see spirituality and theology come together for him here.

Kent: What can Jonathan Edwards teach us about the Christian life?

Kyle: Edwards can teach us to be theological concerning the Christian life. Evangelicals have notoriously left theology aside when they talk about the Christian life, either turning to common-sensical notions of life that are more American than Christian or simply using the spiritual tradition as their own personal buffet-line. Edwards provides us with a great example of what it used to mean to be a theologian. A theologian was never abstracted away from the life of the church, but would write and speak directly into her circumstances. Here, just as in Religious Affections, we see Edwards doing that. Furthermore, Edwards is a fascinating example of someone who adopted and adapted virtue ethics and wove it into a robustly theological vision of life. There is a lot to learn here about doing that well.

Kent: How will Edwards’ surprise us in this book?

Kyle: When Tyron Edwards, Edwards’s great, great grandson, edited the original text, a lot of his edits had to do with Edwards sounding “too catholic.” Edwards often uses the term “infusion” to talk about the Spirit and grace being present in the life of a believer. This is interesting. It is noteworthy that this isn’t just Edwards, but was standard among the Reformed High Orthodox. So that will be surprising to many. I think this book will be particularly surprising to those who think of Edwards as the “sinners in the hands of an angry God guy.” Edwards’s sermon, “Heaven is a World of Love” closes out Charity, and while he still talks about Hell, it should be clear that Edwards’s imagination was obsessed with Heaven. Ultimately though, I think those who don’t know much about Edwards will be shocked at how he talks about God and our relationship to him. In Edwards we find a Reformed account of theosis, and participation, communion, and union form his soteriology. Whenever Edwards gets the chance, he waxes poetic about this reality.

Kent: Can you tell us a bit about the format of the book?

Kyle: Well, the format was really my main addition to the volume. First, I include a substantial introduction to introduce readers to some of Edwards’s theology. My hope is that this background will help them read Edwards a bit better. Second, I add textboxes throughout the whole book, that explain difficult concepts, or rephrase Edwards’s arcane and difficult prose. Sometimes this is just quoting something else Edwards said that was just more clear. Third, I define arcane and obscure terminology. And last, I end with a conclusion that broadly answers the question: What now? My goal here is to help people think about Edwards’s vision of spiritual formation and what it might mean to take that seriously.

Before [the Son of Man] will be gathered all the nations, and he will separate people from one another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.  And he will place the sheep on his right, but the goats on the left.  Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world….Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels (Matt. 25:32-34, 41).

Owen then says that, if there is a clear distinction between those who are in Christ and those who are not (and never will be), and if Christ is said to die for the sins of the former but never for the sins of the latter, then this is an indication that Christ’s sacrificial death is intended just for those who will come to faith in him.  In this case, the Arminian doctrine of universal redemption is adrift from exegesis and stuck in the realm of speculation.  At this point, the Arminian exegete might argue that Scripture does teach that Christ’s death is intended to atone for the sins of the reprobate in loci like John 3:16.  However, in Owen’s judgment, John 3:16 and similar texts do not in fact indicate that Christ died for every human being without exception.  For Owen, then, these texts are to be interpreted with the aid of the above line of reasoning in which the two camps are distinguished and Christ is said to die for the one without any indication that he dies specifically for the other.  Interestingly, he also adds that, even if Scripture doesn’t explicitly use the word ‘only’ in directing the intention of Christ’s death toward the elect, Scripture often omits the ‘restrictive term’ where it is clearly implied (10:245).  For example, in John 14:6 Christ does not say ‘I am the only way and the only truth and the only life’ in order to drive home his own uniqueness as the divine Son and Savior.  Also, in Colossians 1:19 Paul can write that ‘in [Christ] all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell’ without having to say ‘only in [Christ]‘ in order to confirm to us that we ought not to look elsewhere for the fullness of God revealed to us.

What do you make of this exegetical argument for particular redemption (or, in less felicitous terminology, limited atonement)?

When properly understood, an examination is a friendly conversation of older students of theology with younger ones, concerning certain themes in which they share a common interest. The purpose of this conversation is to give younger participants an opportunity to exhibit whether and to what extent they appear to give promise of doing so in the future. The real value of a doctorate, even when earned with the greatest distinction, is totally dependent on the degree to which its recipient has conducted and maintained himself as a learner. Its worth depends, as well, entirely on the extent to which he further conducts and maintains himself as such. Only by his qualification as a learner can he show himself qualified to become a teacher. Whoever studies theology does so because to study it is (quite apart from any personal aims of the student) necessary, good, and beautiful in relationship to the service to which he has been called. Theology must possess him so completely that he can be concerned with it only in the manner of a studiosus (Evangelical Theology, 172).

Now, qualifications aside, I was left frustrated by this post. But why? Why would I be frustrated by someone who is, for all practical purposes, hitting all of my sweet-spots? I actually found myself asking this exact question at times. Let me try and point to some issues I think are inherent to this project (keeping in mind how limited my knowledge of it is).

First, it is built on over-simplification. The “Christendom” versus “post-Christendom” divide is helpful for sermons but not for academic discourse. Things are just not so simple. Furthermore, keeping in mind my ignorance of their overall plan, this seems steeped in the present evangelical culture. In other words, based on how evangelicals are intuitively thinking about things, their overall approach makes perfect sense. That worries me. This feels no different than the megachurch mentality they oppose. In light of that claim, note the inherent pragmatism to the message. We have statistics, we have an action plan, and we can use Jesus as the model. But is this right? It strikes me that it is not. Again, over-simplification seems to govern the day (maybe this was just for the sake of the video?) Also, in light of their allergy to the megachurches and the “business” model (again, no complaints here), it seems to me that they have not dug deep enough to the pragmatist idolatry that fueled the errors they worry about. In other words, they could be trying to build on the same broken foundation (even as they claim they are doing the opposite in their video).

Following the present culture, it strikes me that we have another case of Jesus vs. Paul (and by Paul I mean the rest of the NT). As a side note, if you haven’t noticed this phenomena, watch for it. It is pervasive. I think it gained popularity through the emergent church conversation, particularly the more radical ends, but it is a view that is becoming “normal.” Notice how quickly we can just say: “Well Jesus did it this way, therefore this must be a model.” There is a pragmatism and a lack of a robust biblical vision (or so it strikes me).

Second, I was struck by the odd feeling that I would have loved this earlier in my life, but now I am left with much hesitancy. Why? First, I think that my earlier point about pragmatism is again wielding its head. The seminary grads I talk to almost all want pragmatic ways to fix things. I tend to hand them Eugene Peterson. In other words, starting from what seminary grads want doesn’t necessarily lead us anywhere. I am again struck by how similar this seems to be to the megachurch movement these guys reject. I grew up at Willow Creek, and it feels the same to me. We start with statistics, move to what makes intuive sense, and then build a common-sensical model based on New Testament narratives. Is this just the same old evangelical game? The fact that high-up on the list of “to-dos” to get this thing going was developing a savvy video strikes me that the answer would be: “Yes.”

Third, I was struck by how much I disliked the terms “character” and “compentence.” Both strike me as inherently secular. As an advocate of the spiritual formation conversation, I quiver when I see terms like this. Maybe there is much more depth to them than strike me at first glance? I don’t know. To me, this again feels American (or Western would probably be more adequate). It thinks of education in terms of trade schools. Furthermore, there was a tinge of that classic evangelical inclination that there was the Acts 2 church that lasted for a generation and then everything has gone 100% wrong ever since. Therefore, what we need to do is to just recover that church. I don’t know if that is there (it is certainly ubiquitous in the evangelicalism I grew up in), but if nothing else, some form of that inclination is still floating around. There just doesn’t seem to be a lot of theological depth in a discussion of theological education.

Fourth, other than reference to the importance of the missio Dei (whose importance is not questioned here), there really isn’t any focus on how thinking Christianly is at the heart of our participation in the mission of God. 1 Corinthians would be helpful here. Again, with the last point, it seems like the mission Dei was picked up at random with no other theological structures in place. And maybe it is here that my real frustration lies. Rather than theology I find common-sensicalism.

Fifth, is the problem the model of education, or is the problem our ideal of education? Both, no doubt, have their problems, but which is more central? I would point to the total lack of theological education over the last generation, where theology itself was seen as an end rather than an aid to meeting Christ in the scriptures (see Stephen Holmes’ post for some excellent thoughts on this). Rather than a wholesale rejection of the model, why don’t we start asking new questions about how that model can be more faithful to the call of the church? While I used to be on their side of things, wanting to rethink everything from the ground up, it is my new inclination that a more fruitful endeavor would be to rework the model from within it. This is not just a pragmatic claim, but I have a lot in mind when I suggest this. Maybe we can discuss this. I should say that  I was in an innovative seminary program designed with many of the same worries as Breen’s, and it did deal with (in my mind) many of their worries (not to diminish other major issues such as the financial, etc.).

Last, the post and video point to two distinct issues that they believe are interrelated: the church and the seminary. I wonder if we would explore the relationship between these in more detail if that would help. For instance, I know few churches who really take a role in future pastor’s and missionary’s development (spiritual, financial, etc.). I wonder if the seminary is often required to hold a load a bit too large? Anyone who has taught an introductory class at a seminary can recognize how low biblical and theological knowledge truly is, as well as an understanding of the Christian life. It is no surprise that three years later they don’t feel equipped for ministry.

In the end, I like the questions, I like the desire, but I am left with much more hesitancy than excitement. It has too much of the feel of the evangelicalism that continues to say: “I know, we should just start from scratch;” and “Finally, I have come around to fix everything.” What are your thoughts? Am I being too harsh? Am I totally off about what they are doing? What do you think?

This Trinity of the mind is not really the image of God because the mind remembers and understands and loves itself, but because it is also able to remember and understand and love him by whom it was made (De trinitate 14.15).

Johnson notes that Augustine is affirming here the idea that the divine image is actualized only in the context of redemption. This, however, made me reflect on the fall a bit. If Augustine is right, that when God said, “Let us made man in our image,” then that image must reflect the “our” in that passage, and is therefore trinitarian (as opposed to Christological), then there is link between that point and the one made above. Satan, in other words, was right when he seduced Eve, telling her that eating the fruit would make them like God. This likeness is a mind remembering, understanding, and loving itself, because, in the life of God, he is perfect beauty (not to mention all that is prior to creation). What Satan left out was the fact that for creatures, this is a fallen reality. Being “like” God, in this sense, is not a good thing, but is turning in on oneself as the greatest good when that is not true of who you are. It is an attempt to grasp God’s inner-life without his goodness, truth, or beauty.

This is just some musing on this passage in Augustine. Any thoughts?

Ford Madox Brown

During my class on 1 Peter today I invited students to reflect with me on this painting. After asking for their impressions, I directed their attention first to Peter. How does the Gospel of John record Peter’s response to Jesus’ insistence that he wash the feet of his disciples (John 13: 8 – “You shall never wash my feet”)? How does Brown’s rendering of Peter in this scene interpret Peter’s response to Jesus’ soft rebuke?

Next we looked at those around the table. What does Brown suggest about their own willingness to be served by Jesus? How about the one untying his sandals? How about Judas clutching his head? How about the others who are more or less in the light?

Finally, the image invites the viewer to consider his or her response to Jesus’ insistence that he wash the feet of his followers (Caravaggio and Rembrandt evoke the same in many of their paintings). In other words, in which disciple do we see ourselves? How will it lead us to pray?

I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that was given you in Christ Jesus, because in every way you were enriched in him in all speech and knowledge – even as the testimony of Christ was established among you – so that you are not lacking in any spiritual gift, as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ, who will establish you to the end, blameless in the day of our Lord Jesus Christ.  God is faithful, by whom you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord (1 Cor. 1:4-9).

If we are ever plagued by doubts as to whether we can persevere in faith, this should be a comforting text.  Given that the gospel was established among even this band of unruly believers, Paul was confident that Christ would then establish them until the time of the parousia.

This is not a terribly elaborate defense of the doctrine of the perseverance of the saints, but it is significant that Paul hangs the final blamelessness of the Corinthians on the faithfulness of God.  In a complementary text, Jesus announces, ‘It is the will of him who sent me that I should lose nothing of all that he has given me’ (John 6:39).  Should we gather, then, that to deny the doctrine of the perseverance of the saints is to call into question the faithfulness of God and the commitment of Christ to fulfill his Father’s will?  Thoughts pastoral, polemical, or otherwise?