Category: theology

DoG: The Approach

~ Alex Poulos ~ Leave a comment

Other parts to this series can be found on my Deliverance of God page.

The approach of Campbell’s Deliverance of God is a bit different from what one may expect. The book is not primarily exegesis! Exegesis plays a big, important role in the argument, but it’s not primary. The argument is theory driven. This seems strange at first glance. In good protestant form, I too want to jump into Scripture first and sort out the results later. But Campbell’s theoretical approach is rather powerful for several reasons.

The basic argument works in five parts. Part One consists of a description of Justification Theory on a theoretical level. After describing JT, he explores the difficulty of this particular reading. He examines both intrinsic difficulties (those within JT itself) and systematic difficulties (those seen when compared to Pauline texts, especially Romans 5-8). Part One continues with Campbell’s critique of JT’s depiction of Judaism and its account of conversion itself. It ends with Campbell concluding that JT is responsible for many of the interpretive dilemmas in Pauline scholarship and within the Church as a whole.

Even after this theoretical examination of Justification Theory, Campbell doesn’t immediately jump into the exegesis (close reading of a Biblical text) right away. Instead, he begins with some interpretive (hermeneutical) considerations. The primary reason for doing this is that Campbell believes that “an important, and possible quite insidious, set of interpretative dynamics is operative that can distort any naive or merely unselfconscious approach to the texts” (221). For Campbell, these must be grasped and neutralized as much as possible before we can simply “read Paul.” In Part Two he builds an interpretive base for working with the texts. He also some gives some history of interpretation of Paul, including a highlight of the Reformer’s reading of Paul. Finally, he looks at some dangers that surround reading Paul in a modern European (or North American) setting. Only with these interpretive dilemmas and warnings presented does he finally proceed with exegesis.

Parts Three through Five deals directly with the Biblical texts. Part Three deals with Justification Theory and the texts which are used to support it. It primarily deals with Romans 1-4 as the “textual fortress” on which JT rests (Douglas’s metaphor). Part Four offers a rereading of Romans 1-4 (probably the most provocative piece of the argument. Part Five then extends this rereading of Romans 1-4 to the rest of Romans, as well as to other key texts which have been used to support JT.

I’m still working through Part Two at the moment, so I can’t comment on his exegesis yet. However, I must say that his approach is noteworthy. Starting with the theoretical models and working to the texts is novel, but I think it’s helpful and even necessary. He’s correct in that a “completely unbiased” reading of the text is impossible. We’re greatly influenced by the traditions we have received, regardless of their source. Highlighting these inherited “interpretative tendencies” is necessary work as we start to examine the texts. It keeps us honest and hopefully humble as we dialog with one another about the meaning of the Scriptures. I know I’ll find stuff to take issue with, but I’m deeply impressed at the breadth and depth of his argument.

~alex

DoG: The Heart of the Matter: The Justifcation Theory of Salvation

~ Alex Poulos ~ 1 Comment

Other parts to this series can be found on my Deliverance of God page

As part of my summary and (slight) analysis of Campbell’s The Deliverance of God (hereafter DoG), I will condense and articulate Justification Theory as Campbell states it.  Justification Theory (or JT) is Campbell’s name for the classic Protestant statement of the core of the Gospel, namely Justification by Faith alone.  Historically, this is often called the “Lutheran” reading, but Campbell opts for “Justification Theory” instead.

DoG is fundamentally a critique and rejection of Justification Theory.  Campbell appropriately begins his tome with his articulation of JT.  He acknowledges that he is susceptible to creating a “straw man,” but strives to articulate the “opponent’s reading” as well as he can.  For the sake of discussion on the blog here, it’s also necessary to state what JT says.  Growing up in a Protestant church, JT was rarely explained in full, but it was certainly latent in our thinking.  So, now we can begin!

Campbell describes Justification Theory as a soteriology (theory of salvation) of two contracts.  The first one is rigorous, and the second one is generous.  The first contract goes something like this:

  • Premises
    • Humans are rational, self-interested and ethical.
    • God is omnipotent and just.
    • Everyone knows God is omnipotent from examining the Universe.
    • Everyone knows God is just from their own conscience.
    • God’s ethical demands are made known to Jews through the Old Testament laws.
    • God’s ethical demands are made known to everyone else innately (through their conscience)
    • Rewards and punishments will be meted out by God in accordance to a person’s obedience or disobedience of these ethical demands.  (Have you obeyed or not?)
    • Present injustices will be resolved at the end of time on the day of judgment.
    • The future age will have a positive aspect (heaven) and a negative one (hell).
    • God will determine an individual’s destiny based on their merit, whether they’ve obeyed his ethical laws or not (in accordance with Romans 2:6-10).
  • The Introspective Twist and the Loop of Despair
    • As we try to fulfill God’s ethical demands, we fail.  After failing, we try harder to fulfill God’s demands.
    • The harder we try, the worse we fail.
    • This results in a “Loop of Despair,” where we grow more and more depressed as we realize we cannot fulfill God’s ethical demands.
  • At this point, the “Generous Contract” enters:
    • God redirects, graciously, the punishment we deserve to Christ (who dies).
    • Because of his sinlessness and divinity, Christ can offer unlimited satisfaction of divine justice through his sacrificial death.
    • God redirects, generously, the perfect righteousness of Christ to sinners who are now viewed as if this righteousness were their own.
    • God, again graciously, offers faith as the criterion for accessing this righteousness.  This is manageable, unlike the the rigors of the first contract.
    • Individuals who have this faith access the perfect righteousness of Christ and will receive a favorable judgment on the day of judgment (they’ll go to Heaven).

Campbell goes through these in more detail, but that will suffice as a depiction of JT.  Toward the end of chapter 1, he lists these as the “root” metaphors of Justification Theory:

  • Humanity is ultimately individual, rationalistic, and self-interested. Humans are primarily cognitive (thinking is our most basic task).  By thinking, we discern the second “root” idea:
  • God is primarily an authority figure of strict justice. The “philosophical man” discerns the most fundamental divine attribute is retributive justice (that is, God punishes wrongdoing and rewards right-doing).
  • Humanity perceives itself to be “ethically incapable.” Humanity tries to do right in light of God’s justice, but is unable to fulfill these commands.
  • There needs to be compensatory mechanism of satisfaction, namely, Christ’s atonement. Jesus’ death pays for the sins from which humanity cannot escape.
  • The criterion of salvation is faith.   An individual accesses this work of Christ by believing in the revelation of Christ’s death and resurrection.

Campbell is working here on the theoretical level.  He only wants to with JT on a theoretical level since his approach is “theory” driven.  Discussion of the key Biblical texts will come later, but right now he wants to highlight the integrity (and also the difficulties) of JT before interacting with the important texts.

I’ll respond a little bit to his method in a separate post, but I find his articulation of the classic interpretation fair.  Admittedly, I haven’t done a tone of reading on classical Protestant theology, but it does fit will with both my reading and my experience growing up in Church.  If there’s something “amiss” in this representation, please let me know.  I’ve cut out a lot to make the summary manageable, so it’s likely I left something important out!

~alex

Just Purchased: The Deliverance of God

~ Alex Poulos ~ Leave a comment

I’ve decided to purchase Douglas Campbell’s The Deliverance of God after working through nearly 200 pages of it so far (I have it on Interlibrary Loan right now). I’ve been amazed at the argument thus far. He’s done a very thorough job of highlighting the problems with the classic Protestant doctrine of Justification by faith. I’m not yet sure how persuasive I’ll find his proposed solution, but he has convinced me that we need a solution. I’ll be blogging on this work quite a bit. I’m hoping to offer some summaries and maybe a small bit of analysis as I work through the book. This is both for the benefit of my audience (the book is long and not cheap), but perhaps mostly so I’ll understand the issues better by engaging with them.

So, hopefully, there will be a series of posts on this work right around the corner ;-)

~alex

Participation as a Correction of “Dominion Theology”

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As I’ve been thinking more about the topic of participation in Paul’s letters, I’ve realized that participation theology (that is, a solid understanding of the believer dying and rising with Christ), may serve as a needed corrected to some aspects of Charismatic theology. Let’s start with a bit of background. Protestantism historically has embraced a pessimistic attitude toward humanity, even toward the believer. Especially for Luther, the believer remains plagued with sin, while still a saint, and must cling by faith to the coming deliverance of Christ. Justification is something God does for the believer, once and for all, in the cross. It is imputed to the believer, but the believer’s is still torn between both flesh and Spirit (à la Romans 7). There may also be a tendency to delay the “good things” about believers into a future age, whether it’s inheritance, sanctification, etc.

What a lot of Charismatic theology has done is reclaim the good things the New Testament has to say about the believer. Charismatics love passages like Ephesians 2:3-10, where the believers are portrayed as being seated with Christ in the Heavenly realms. We love Romans 8, and the triumphant “Life by the Spirit.” We love 2 Cor 5:17-21, where the believer is called a new creation! We definitely love statements like, “As the father has sent me, so I send you.” The miraculous aspects of Jesus’ ministry typically follow. Some Charismatics go so far to promulgate a “Dominion Theology” where Christians are supposed to “reign with Jesus” in places of leadership throughout the secular world. See this for a bit more info.

On the whole, I think this a good progression from Luther’s pessimism, but it does have some problems. First, there are a few practical problems. An exalted view of the believer is an easy recipe for spiritual arrogance and pride. The prosperity gospel probably came from this imbalance. Also, it can lead to some existential quandaries. Sometimes, life sucks. Even if I’m a son of God, I sure don’t always feel like it! Along with this, any struggle is automatically because of demonic oppression. Or, if God doesn’t answer my prayer, my faith is really shaken!

The traditional doctrine of justification actually encourages these, in my mind. The problem is that the cross is thought of primarily (or exclusively) as something that God did through Jesus for us. This is absolutely true! But it’s not the complete story. We are also called to emulate the cross, to participate in the dying and rising with Christ. We Charismatics love to emphasize the power of resurrection without the suffering of the cross, but God calls us to both. They’re definitely linked in Paul’s mind. Philippians 3:10-11 is a very good example of this, “I want to know Christ, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.” This balance is absolutely crucial. It helps us make sense of the challenges of life (which sometimes get downright terrible; but then again, so was the cross!). I helps us make sense of the awesome points of life (after all, we’re sharing in the power of his resurrection!). It helps us remember that the way to exaltation and glorification is through the the Cross, the way of humility. We are heirs with Christ, but this involves sharing in his suffering (Romans 8:17).

Overall, I think that a robust “participationist” reading of Paul will help us live much more effectively. It helps us remain humble in suffering while celebrating the glorious parts in the life of the believer. Charismatics heartily embrace the power of the Resurrection. Hopefully we can embrace the suffering of the Cross as well.

~alex

Participation in Paul: 1 Cor 6 and 7

~ Alex Poulos ~ 1 Comment

As I’m thinking more about suffering in Paul’s thought and Ignatius’ thought, I’ve realized that I’m going to have to defend a “partcipationist” reading of Paul. Typically, this is done by arguing the “in Christ” notion of Paul as being more fundamental or important than his justification/legal language. I’m not terribly interested in attacking justification, but I do want the participation language to take its proper place. The early fathers read Paul almost exclusively on these terms, where as Protestants have done the complete opposite: we have read Paul exclusively from justification/legal terms. We need to understand both! As I’ve been working through 1 Corinthians and memorizing, I’ve been surprised by the participatory language that is present. It’s couched in very practical sections, but it’s there nonetheless.

The first thing I noticed was 1 Cor 6:17, “But the one who joins himself with the Lord is one with him in spirit.” The contrast here is with the prior verse, and the one “who joins himself with a prostitute.” Here, our union with Christ is compared to sexual union. If that’s not participatory language, I don’t know what is! Of course, as I’ve noted somewhere prior, I don’t want to run off to strange places with this metaphor. But what remains is that there is something “mystical” (for lack of a better word) going on here. There’s is more to conversion than simply what Christ accomplished on the cross (magnificent though it was!). In baptism, we die and rise with Christ. We become a part of his body. We participate in his suffering and in his glorification.

We see similar things a chapter later. After instructing believers married to unbelievers not to leave their spouses, Paul offers this little statement:
“For the unbelieving man is sanctified by the [believing] wife, and the unbelieving woman is sanctified by the [believing] husband. If this were not so, your children would be unclean. As it is, though, they are holy”
and, after another verse:
“how do you know, wife, that you won’t save your husband? how do you know, husband, that you won’t save your wife?”
1 Cor 7:14,16

What’s strange here is the “high view of the believer” for lack of a better term. Paul states that an unbelieving spouse is made holy by a believing spouse. He also states that a believing spouse may save an unbelieving spouse. I think this is difficult to make sense of in a traditional, justification-driven framework.

For example, if I lead a friend to Christ tomorrow, and then introduce to my pastor as “my friend who I just saved,” I’m probably gonna get a rebuke about how it’s only Jesus who saves people, not me. Likewise, If I pray for a sick person and they become well, it’ll sound strange if I say, “I just healed someone!” I’ve been corrected along those lines before, in my more youthful and zealous days. But whereas that kind of language makes us uncomfortable, it doesn’t seem to phase Paul here (though he does have problems when he’s mistaken for a Greek deity ;-) ). The New Testament occasionally will name an apostle as healing someone without making explicit reference to God, like in Acts 28:8: “Paul visited him and cured him by praying and putting his hands on him. “

I think this make much more sense if we take Paul’s participation language into account. How on earth can a believer make an unbeliever holy? How on earth can a believer make their children holy? And how on earth can a believer sanctify an unbeliever? Well, if we’re “one with the Lord in Spirit” then it makes sense. If we’re participating with Jesus in the power of resurrection and the fellowship of sufferings (Philippians 3:10) then we can talk like this. It’s not me κατα σαρκα (according to the flesh) that saves or sanctifies someone, it’s me κατα πνευμα (according to the Spirit). It’s the me that has joined itself with the Lord, and become one with him in Spirit.

A high view of the believer (contra Luther, perhaps?) makes plenty of sense when we consider that we are μελη χριστου, members of Christ’s body. In some way we take part in the suffering and the glory of the risen Messiah. From this standpoint, I think we can begin to understand what’s going on here in 1 Corinthians regarding “saving” and “sanctifying.” The people correcting me were right to an extent, it is only the triune God that saves and heals. The funny thing is, we’re called into that triune fellowship, that communion, in Christ and by the Spirit. I don’t know what that means exactly, but it’s tremendously exciting. I’m looking forward to discovering more!

~alex

Participation and Paul’s Understanding of Suffering

~ Alex Poulos ~ 2 Comments

So, as I’ve stated before, I’m currently working on an essay that examines Ignatius’ suffering in light of Pauline suffering. To do this, I have to clearly articulate what we learn about Paul’s understanding of suffering from his letters. Right now, I’m trying to think of texts to examine this. Philippians will definitely play a large role in my construction, but 2 Corinthians will also likely play a big role. There also seem to be little germs spread out in other letters where suffering isn’t an explicit theme, like Romans 8:17, Colossians 1:24, Ephesians 3:13, Galatians 6:17, and throughout Thessalonians.

Baptism seems to play a large part in Paul’s theology of suffering. In baptism, we participate in the passion, the death and resurrection of Christ. In baptism, we have been “crucified with Christ,” (Gal 2:20), and are “clothed with Christ” (Gal 3:27). Paul goes into more depth in Romans. In understanding suffering, I think we have to understand the participation language in Paul, and not simply think in forensic terms like Protestants typically do. That’s to say that while there is a large amount of legal terminology in Paul, where something is done by God for the sinner, there’s also quite a bit of participation language in Paul. When taken into account, this means that the sufferings of Christ are not only something done for us, but also something which we ourselves participate in to some degree. This is seen in Philippians 3, among other places, “I want to know Christ, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.” Of course, the justification language in Paul is very important as well, but I don’t think we’ll correctly understand Paul’s ethics, and especially his views on suffering, without understanding the participation of the believer in Christ.

~alex

Faith, Good Works, and New Creation (Part Four)

~ Alex Poulos ~ Leave a comment

So, I’ve rambled on here, here, and here previously about faith, good works, and new creation.  Having moved on from the first part, I’m now up to good works and new creation.  Well then,  what are good works?

I’m convinced that my (and I suspect our) definition of good works is way too narrow.  I usually think of good works as giving money to the poor, volunteering at a shelter, or things along those lines.  While I’m convinced that those are good works,  I’m wondering if we can’t expand the term somewhat.  I’m wondering if instead of small, discrete good deeds, we couldn’t conceive of something broader.   My thought is that good works not only include things like alms, but also hard, honest labor in a variety of fields.  Working hard at your school work or job can be ‘good works.’  Working hard in an art, whether it’s music, photography, or photoshop can be ‘good works.’

Essentially, I think that God has a bigger conception of ‘good works’ than we do (shocking, I know!).  To justify this, I’ll go all the way back to Genesis.  Basically, mankind was put on the Earth for more than just worship and relationship, as wonderful as those two things are.   We were also put here for work!  Before I scare off everyone who hates their job, let me qualify that a bit.  God’s labor for us is deeply rewarding, not pointless toil.  We get plenty of glimpses of it in this life.  It’s like the sense of fulfillment a painter gets after spending hours hard at work on a piece.  Adam had an important part to play in the creation.  He didn’t just sit around lying in a hammock drinking pineapple juice with God.  The human vocation, as expressed by Adam and Eve, was to wisely rule over creation.  Naming the animals wasn’t just a fun gimmick, giving a name to something in the Hebrew culture gave it identity and purpose.  This work Adam was given in Genesis 2:15 is related to the good works we encounter in the New Testament.  When the ancient Jews translated Genesis into Greek, they used the same word for ‘work’ in Genesis 2:15 that the New Testament writers often used for ‘good works.’   I do think that the labor in the garden was ‘good works.’

We see a similar thread in the New Testament with Paul’s letters.  Colossians 3 is a good chapter for this.  “And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.”  We see the same with Paul’s instructions to slaves later in the chapter:  “Whatever you do, do it with all your heart, as if working for the Lord, and not men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward.  It is the Lord Christ you are serving.”  That means, when I’m working at IBM, plodding through programming source code, I’m serving Jesus.  When I’m working away on essays and projects for school, I’m also serving Jesus.  Certainly, we can’t forget acts of charity and generosity, but we must (I must!) conceive of our whole lives in service to the Messiah with whom we’ve died and been raised.

Which brings us to Resurrection, the fuel for all Christian labor.  Jesus Christ has been raised from the dead, and we will be too.  Our labor now will have an impact in the age to come.  How?  I don’t know.  But everything from Bible study to biochemistry has a role to play.  Our hope in the “resurrection of the body and life everlasting” is the fuel for our efforts now.  We must not forget Paul’s exhortation to the Corinthians, after a huge discourse on resurrection:  “Therefore, my dear brothers, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain.”

~alex

Faith, Good Works, and New Creation (Part 3)

~ Alex Poulos ~ 3 Comments

In the previous post, I looked at faith from the perspective of its object:  the person or thing in which we place our faith (in this case, God).  Essentially, our faith relies on God’s faithfulness.  Our faith must rest in God’s nature, not our ability to perceive him.  This worked its way toward God’s mission in the world, a mission in which we’re called to participate.  This was an unexpected turn, but I’ll run with it and return to trust and relationship later.

So, how on earth does faith relate to works?  These two have been wrongly divided in Protestantism for many years, although the problem goes back to the early Church, as James makes clear (James is reacting against a perversion of Paul’s message in James 2).  The Protestant discomfort with good works goes back to the reformation, with Sola Fide (by faith alone) being a banner under which most Protestants marched.  The problem is that in reacting to the extremities and perversions of medieval Catholicism (indulgences, self-flagellation, etc), Luther brought the Pauline message of justification by faith into direct contradiction with James:  “Do you know that you are not justified by faith alone?”  This has had enormous implications for subsequent Protestant teaching and ministry.  Any suggestion of the Christian duty to serve the poor, sacrificially give, or defend the defenseless throws up objections of works-righteousness.  “Oh, you’re just trying to earn your way into Heaven!” many exclaim.  However, even Paul insists on the necessity of good works.  He not only speaks of justification by faith, but also a justification according to works (Romans 2).

So then, how do we Protestants put the two back together?  If we reduce faith to mental assent to doctrine, it may be difficult.  But if faith is richer than this, if it includes trust in God, if it includes clinging to the blessed hope, if it includes faithfulness, then it is not as difficult.

Essentially, faith is not only the basis for good works (as if one could build a foundation of faith, and then leave it, not completing the house), but good works are the very means by which faith is proven.  One may have good works without faith, but one can never have faith without works, just as one may have sacrifice without love, but never love without sacrifice.  Good works must proceed from faith.  If we claim to trust in God, to believe what he has revealed in Scripture and in the Church, and then fail to act accordingly, then we betray our unbelief, our lack of faithfulness, our infidelity.  Now, this faith may express itself in any number of imperfect ways.  We won’t always see it;  in fact, we’ll probably rarely see it, both in ourselves and in others.  However, it’s no less necessary.  God is going to restore this world.  God’s saving mission for humanity is just the first part of him restoring the entire cosmos!  His mission in this world is much bigger than just saving a few souls.  If he’s going to redeem and restore the entire cosmos, then we’ve got work to do!  God loves to work through and with his human creatures.  This will take us to the next part of the series:  New Creation.  What are good works?  And how do they fit into God’s purposes for the world?  We’ll go all the way back to Genesis to sort through that question.  But I’ve rambled on enough for the moment.

Until next time,

~alex

Faith, Good Works, and New Creation (Part Two)

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As I was working on the first post in this series, it occurred quite suddenly to me:  faith is inextricably tied to the character of the “object,”  the person, idea, or thing in which we place our faith.  I had been thinking about faith solely from the perspective of the person having faith (a rather selfish perspective).  However, it’s impossible to isolate faith from its object (for lack of a better word), particularly when Jesus tells us to “have faith in God;  have faith in me.” I want to explore the trust aspect of faith within this more “subjective” framework.

This is not a part of faith I hadn’t heard before.  I’ve read often enough that it’s the “object” of faith that is truly important.  I guess I just never paused long enough to consider the implications (plus object sounds too much like a grammatical word to be truly interesting ;-) ).  Essentially, faith by itself is of some value.  We tend to respect someone for following their convictions even if we disagree with them.  However, “earnestness” does not justify its action.  You can be completely sincere and completely wrong.  What we believe (or who we believe in, or who we trust)  matters just as much as how we believe.

So how does this relate to Christian faith?  Our faith must be rooted in the character of God expressed in Jesus of Nazareth.  I don’t think we can successfully root it in some “epistemology” of faith explaining why or how to believe in God.  Essentially, faith must start with God and work toward us.  We can’t start with ourselves and work toward God.  This is right in line with the message of Scripture.  “Be holy, for I am holy.”  “We love because he first loved us.”  We are to be faithful because God himself is faithful.  All of the ethical imperatives of the New Testament are undergirded and prefixed by the message Jesus’ life, death, resurrection, and ascension.  Jesus loved to the uttermost, so we must love.  Jesus forgave, so we must forgive.  Of course, it’s more than that.  Jesus inaugurated, or rather launched, the Kingdom of God.  Our faith is wrapped up in this Kingdom project that Jesus launched and that he has handed over to us.  “All authority has been given to me;  therefore go and make disciples of all nations…”   One day he’ll return for consummation, to finally fulfill that which he started.  Until then we must be faithful with the tasks he has given us.

So this post has taken a different path than I thought it would, but it still brings us quite nicely to an important topic:  Good works.  Soon enough I’ll examine why good works are absolutely crucial to our faith in God.  In stead of examining the interplay between love with faith, I’ll try to work that in as we look at how are faith expresses itself through works.

~alex

Faith, Good Works, and New Creation (part one)

~ Alex Poulos ~ Leave a comment

Faith has garnered much attention from me lately.  The concept plays an important role in Christian theology, perhaps more so in Protestant thinking, with Sola Fide (by faith alone) being one of the banners of the Reformation.  A question that’s followed me for some time concerns faith:  what is it?  In some Protestant circles it’s merely mental and intellectual assent to doctrine.  If you believe the right statements about Jesus, you’ll go to heaven:  no questions asked.  In some Charismatic circles (which I see and hear on a regular basis), faith is about some sort of emotional certainty.  Faith is about latching on to some putative promise of God and removing all doubt it will come to fulfillment (or come to pass!).  Here the task (or my caricature of it) seems to be convincing yourself of something so fully that God can’t help but answer your prayer.  In this sense, faith comes across as some mysterious, magical force and prayer is how we use our “faith.”  Then there’s the concepts of faithfulness and trust.  Our expression, “have faith” is often synonymous with “trust.”  The Greek verb used in the New Testament certainly has trust within its range of meanings.

Which of these are right?  In what degree?  When we set out to define a robust, biblical doctrine of faith, what aspects of it should we make sure to discuss?  I want to critique the ideas I set out previously, noting the high and low points of each understanding of faith.

First, let’s take a stab at doctrine.  What is faith’s relationship to doctrine?  The Pastoral Epistles offer some positive direction for us.  A common statement here is, “this saying is trustworthy.”  These statements are generally doctrinal in nature, like the magnificent exposé of justification by grace in Titus 3:3-7.  The Greek word here is pistis.  Pistis can have lots of shades of meaning, but translation into English requires us to pick the best option  The word can mean faith, the faith, faithfulness or trustworthiness, in addition to some I’m likely missing.  Trustworthy is a perfectly good translation right here, and most Bible translations use it.  The preceding statement of doctrine is worthy of our trust, but I would also suggest that the saying is trustworthy precisely because it is faithful.  It is a faithful depiction of God’s own actions in History.  That is what doctrine must be: faithful descriptions of reality.  They must be faithful to the character and nature of God, and of his creation.  We trust the doctrine of the church catholic (catholic with a little ‘c’)  because we trust that God has revealed himself adequately to his people.  Doctrine must not be separated from either relationship with God himself or from Christ’s church.  Mental assent to doctrine is important, but only in the context of the family of God as revealed in Ephesians 3.

Second, what is faith’s relationship with emotion?  Faith does have an emotional component, but the tendency is either to magnify it absurdly or ignore it completely.  I’ve seen plenty of both in my short time on this earth.  What helped me think about this was an analogy of a frightened child.  Perhaps the child is afraid of her room at night, imagining monsters or some other nasty creature coming to get her.  The child will then run to her parents for comfort.  The father or mother will undoubtedly soothe the distraught daughter and then explain that she is safe and nothing is coming to get her.  So it is with us and our Father.  The comfort of her parents enables the child to go back to bed.  While she may still have her doubts about the presence of monsters in her room, the emotional comfort is an important part of her going back upstairs.  Likewise, we need the soothing grace of the Father to comfort us through frightening times.  This is an important part of faith, but it is only a component, not the whole.

Finally, what is faith’s relationship with trust?  I think this may be the most important dimension of faith, as trust is inextricably tied to the character of the ‘trustee.’  But what exactly is trust?  How does it relate to belief?  In my mind, one believes a fact or statement, but one trusts a person.  Thus, I believe that earth travels around the sun, but I trust my wife/husband/father/mother, etc.  I would  argue that the latter is much more important than the former.  In the next post, I want to explore this aspect a more, particularly how love and relationship affect it.  Only after that can we move onto good works (the fruit of faith) and new creation (the fruit of good works) be examined.

~alex