Archives For Michael Goheen

Several years ago while in Costa Rica I read (and very much appreciated) The Gospel in a Pluralist Society by Lesslie Newbigin. Newbigin served for many years as a Church of Scotland missionary in India before returning to Europe where he began calling churches in the West to see the surrounding cultures not as mostly Christian, and not even predominantly secular, but primarily as pagan. In turn, he called on Western churches to act as if they were already in the mission field. One can clearly see Newbigin’s fingerprints on the missional movement today.

My interest in Newbigin was rekindled after hearing Michael Goheen speak recently about his personal and scholarly interest in bringing the best thinking of Newbigin together with the ideas of Abraham Kuyper as a cohesive framework he calls “missional Kuyperianism.”

With this in mind I recently read Newbigin’s Proper Confidence: Faith, Doubt, and Certainty in Christian Discipleship (Eerdmans). It’s a little book with big implications. Newbigin presents an alternative to both the theologically liberal and fundamentalist understandings of faith and doubt, acknowledging that the dichotomy between the two camps is made clear in the very terms themselves: “The words ‘liberal’ and ‘fundamentalist’ are used today not so much to identify oneself as to label the enemy.” This labeling of the enemy is illustrated in how each camp portrays the other’s understanding of faith and doubt:

From the point of view of the fundamentalist, doubt is sin; from the point of view of the liberal, the capacity for doubt is a measure of intellectual integrity and honesty.

While these are simplistic caricatures of the positions real people in both camps actually hold, Newbigin argues that so-called “liberals” and “fundamentalists” alike owe more to the Enlightenment than they’re often willing to admit. His argument is a fascinating one, but I’ll refrain from fully summarizing it here. Rather, I want to skip ahead to a poignant example he gives. I should mention that in this excerpt he uses the term “plausibility structure” a few times, which isn’t exactly everyday vocabulary for most of us. For our mutual benefit, the term can be defined as a basic, unquestioned system of meaning, action or beliefs.

Here, then, is what Newbigin has to say about how those at various places on the theological spectrum have, in the spirit of the age, similarly sought to make the Christian faith reasonable, what that reduction has ultimately cost us, and where the truth is actually found:

There is a long tradition of Christian theology that goes under the name “apologetics” and that seeks to respond to this question ["how can we know what is true?"] and to demonstrate the “reasonableness of Christianity.” The assumption often underlying titles of this kind is that the gospel can be made acceptable by showing that it does not contravene the requirements of reason as we understand them within the contemporary plausibility structure. The heart of my argument is that this is a mistaken policy. The story the church is commissioned to tell, if it is true, is bound to call into question any plausibility structure which is founded on other assumptions. The affirmation that the One by whom and through whom and for whom all creation exists is to be identified with a man who was crucified and rose bodily from the dead cannot possibly be accomodated within any plausibility structure except one of which it is the cornerstone. In any other place in the structure it can only be a stone of stumbling. The reasonableness of Christianity will be demonstrated (insofar as it can be) not by adjusting its claims to the requirements of a preexisting structure of thought but by showing how it can provide an alternative foundation for a different structure… To look outside of the gospel for a starting point for the demonstration of the reasonableness of the gospel is itself a contradiction of the gospel, for it implies that we look for the logos elsewhere than in Jesus.

The Christian story truly is a different story; it’s a whole new plausibility structure, to use that daunting term. Disentangling our understanding of the gospel from cultural trappings is no simple matter. And as anyone who has tried to live “missionally” will tell you, none of us do it perfectly. But if Newbigin is right (and I’m inclined to think he is), we needn’t fall prey to either of the faith/doubt caricatures; proper confidence really is within our reach:

The confidence proper to a Christian is not the confidence of one who claims possession of demonstrable and indubitable knowledge. It is the confidence of one who had heard and answered the call that comes from the God through whom and for whom all things were made: “Follow me.”

In what way does Newbigin challenge your understanding of faith, doubt, and certainty? How would you define “proper confidence”?

[Photo credit: Ceiling of Glasgow Cathedral by David Cation]

In recent weeks I’ve been doing some reading and blogging related to worldview and the role it plays in shaping how we live as Christians in light of what God has done, is doing and will do in history. Michael Goheen really piqued my interest in this when I heard him speak here in Phoenix in early March. He described his theological and spiritual journey, including what he describes as an important shift from a theological system to a theological worldview (my notes from the talk are here). In last Monday’s post, Bryant Myers suggested “we are to see the world as created, fallen, and being redeemed, all at the same time.” And then on Thursday, Steven Garber in his book The Fabric of Faithfulness argued that if we are to weave together belief and behavior, it is essential to develop “a worldview sufficient for the challenges of the modern world.”

All these writers and thinkers have more or less the same thing in mind, I think, when they refer to worldview, but it’s also a term that carries all sorts of connotations for different people, so today I want to back up and take a look at what worldview means, drawing on the excellent little book Creation Regained: Biblical Basics for a Reformational Worldview (Eerdmans). It was originally written in 1985 by Al Wolters, and then re-released twenty years later, with an afterword by Michael Goheen himself (there’s a lot of overlap between that afterword and what he had to say in his talk).

Wolters defines worldview as “the comprehensive framework of one’s basic beliefs about things,” a definition he then breaks down bit by bit (I won’t spell it out here, but each word is carefully chosen).

Like the others I referred to earlier, Wolters believes that a biblical worldview is best understood by the basic scriptural categories of creation, fall and redemption. He also contends that our worldview is to inform all of life; the Bible leaves no room for compartmentalizing certain parts of life into the mutually exclusive categories of sacred (church, spiritual practices, Bible study, etc) and secular (economics, politics, technology, etc). In other words,

The plea being made here for a biblical worldview is simply an appeal to the believer to take the Bible and its teaching seriously for the totality of our civilization right now and not to relegate it to some optional area called “religion.”

All of that is established in the first chapter, and then chapters two, three and four have to do with spelling out a fuller, deeper understanding of creation, fall and redemption, respectively. I hope you’ll read the book so you can see everything he has to say about the nuances of each of those three, but the biggest contribution Creation Regained makes is the chapter on discerning the difference between “structure” and “direction.” The terms may be confusing at first, but understood properly, the implications of that distinction are huge for our everyday lives.

I’ll try to sum it up in a paragraph. First, all things are created good (their “structure” is good), but all created things have been deformed by the Fall and sin (that is, they have been “misdirected”). As Christians, too often we recognize the directional distortion of something and discard it as sinful, but we fail to affirm its structural goodness, and miss the opportunity to see how, as a structurally good but misdirected part of creation, it can be redirected for purposes that please God and, in turn, serve the common good. With this distinction in mind, we can truly be “reformers” rather than either seeking to obliterate what’s tainted by sin on the one hand, or by fatalistically accepting the sin-tainted status quo on the other. In other words, distinguishing between structure and direction gives us an alternative to both “revolution” and “quietistic conservatism,” two approaches that leave much to be desired:

Our focus on structure rejects a sympathy for revolution, and our focus on direction condemns a quietistic conservatism… In sum we may say that whereas consecration leaves things internally untouched, and revolution annihilates things, reformation renews and sanctifies them. God calls us to cleanse and reform all the sectors of our lives.

That goes for our personal lives and our interpersonal relationships, but it also has huge implications for our life as citizens and as active participants in political, economic, and other systems. So, for an example applicable to the readers of this blog, when we’re faced with an ethical dilemma like alleged abuses of workers on the other side of the world tied to the practices of a corporation which we support through our purchases, we’re presented with an alternative to the two predictable and insufficient responses. It doesn’t do to ignore the abuses as inevitable, “necessary evils” in our complicated, interconnected world. And it doesn’t do to decry the corporation for being a corporation and part of the free market system. Rather, we seek to discern structure and direction. What about the corporation is structurally a good part of creation? What about the corporation has been misdirected by sin? And what might we as “reformers” (or what Gabe Lyons calls “restorers”) do to redirect and reform that corporation so that what is good about it can continue, and so that it can contribute to the flourishing of all, including those on the other end of the market equation?

That’s a whole new way of seeing the world, it seems to me, and a whole new way of living. It’s not cynical and detached, but it’s not playing to either side of the culture wars, either. It is, however, rooted in the big narrative arc of Scripture — creation, fall, redemption — which is also the narrative arc of history. It’s brimming with promise, isn’t it? It’s realistic and it’s hopeful. It has both roots and wings.

As Wolters says clearly, developing this sort of a worldview — learning to see the world and our lives through this kind of a biblical lens — doesn’t answer every question and solve every problem we will encounter. In community with other believers and with the guidance of the Holy Spirit we’re given the task of discerning the implications of biblical teaching for all these areas of life. We won’t do it perfectly all the time, but we can learn and grow. Most of all, developing a biblical worldview gives us a framework for understanding our lives in the world, and it gives us the right questions to ask:

To approach the phenomena of the world in terms of structure and direction is to look at reality through the corrective lens of Scripture, which everywhere speaks of a good creation and the drama of its reclamation by the Creator in Jesus Christ.

Do you find the themes of creation, fall and redemption — as well as the distinction between structure and direction — helpful for navigating the challenges of everyday life? Is there any part of this “worldview” you’d call into question?

This one might not be of general interest, I’m warning you now.

Yesterday Michael Goheen was in town, speaking at a Surge Network event for a bunch of Phoenix church planters and at least one blogger whose presence was akin to a fly on the wall. Goheen’s talk was both autobiographical and theological — I guess you could say it was the autobiography of his journey through different Christian traditions in five stages. In showing the reasons why he has moved from tradition to tradition, including the pitfalls he discovered along the way, he spoke charitably about the traditions he has left behind, which I really appreciated.

In my own theological journey, lately I’ve been reading some stuff by Abraham Kuyper and folks with a Kuyperian take on things (for example, this, this and this), and I’ve found it deeply encouraging and instructive. So yesterday’s talk with Goheen was just what I needed: he too has been shaped by a Kuyperian framework, though he has also recognized what he perceives to be some of its weak spots. It’s some good food for thought. So, as I’ve done once or twice before, I offer you a blog post consisting of lecture notes, most unvarnished. This is Goheen’s journey — not mine — though it’s a journey I’m grateful to learn from, and I hope it’s helpful for you too.

1. Born again into Pietism, which consisted believing and confessing the right things and being born into the church; not much concern for a warm, deep relationship with Christ or the ethics that follow. It was largely cold, cerebral orthodoxy. It was very individualistic and very other-worldly, without appreciation of the resurrection of the body or the new heavens and new earth. The mentality was getting people onto a lifeboat and off the sinking ship of Creation.

2. Became interested in Calvinism as a theological system after stumbling upon the Westminster Catechism, and went to study reformed theology at Westminster Theological Seminary. There, he found two traditions at work: Scottish and Dutch. While he deeply appreciated the Westminster Catechism, and continues to value it contextually, he found it to be a dated document that was still very individualistic, whereas Abraham Kuyper, Herman Bavinck and other Dutch theologians were onto the bigger picture.

3. In the Kuyperian/Reformational stage, he was seeing that the Bible is one big story, which stood in contrast to Pietism’s individualism and other-worldliness, which he found refreshing. It seemed to him that systematic theologians had taken the story and turned it into a system; basically saying the Bible got its form wrong, and they were finally getting it right. His belief was reinforced that the gospel wasn’t just about Jesus saving individual souls, but about the gospel of the kingdom. Its cosmic scope challenges our individualism and other-worldliness, and the concept of covenant helped him see the importance of community. As a pastor at this point, he wanted those in his church to believe the right ideas; they in turn started asking what it meant for every area of life: what does the gospel of the Kingdom have to say about literature, business, education, and all kinds of social, economic and political issues? He wasn’t sure, but together they started trying to find out.

4. The next stage was rediscovering Kuyperianism not as a theological system but as a worldview. Kuyper saw the Enlightenment/modernism as a pagan force that shrunk Christianity down to individualism, which he saw as a direct threat to the gospel and the church. Further, he saw modernism as a religious worldview, and a dangerous one; it wasn’t spiritually or morally neutral as many claimed. Christ is Creator, Reconciler and Lord of all, and as such he is concerned about individuals but also cultures. Therefore we need a rigorous all-of-life worldview recognizing the Lordship of Christ. In this stage, Goheen began to understand the importance of creation and its goodness, and how that understanding shapes our worldview, and in turn, all spheres of life.

5. The fifth stage began when he was introduced to the work of missiologist Lesslie Newbigin, who was deeply rooted in both scripture and tradition, and what he said was relevant to all of life. Newbigin showed him that mission is central to the whole biblical story. He began to see that mission is as wide as creation. Newbigin was radically Christocentric and saw the relevance of Christ to every area of life. Kuyper started with creation and moved toward Christ; Newbigin started with Christ and moved to creation. Realized that if he’s going to understand the biblical story, he needs to start with Christ. Mission was not for a chosen few in the church; rather, it’s for laypeople in the context of “secular” workplaces. Newbigin, however, didn’t have a full doctrinal appreciation for creation, so it excited Goheen to do synthesis with these two mutually enriching traditions. Kuyper spoke of transformation a lot, but not of suffering (we can learn from Pietism on this point); he learned about that from Newbigin as well. He also gained a deeper appreciation for the importance of spirituality, prayer, the Lord’s Supper, good preaching, fellowship and meditation on Scripture. Without that deep rootedness, you’ll give up or you’ll get arrogant, using any methods necessary to reach your goals. Finally, he learned from Newbigin the indispensability of the local congregation; in emphasizing the importance of all spheres of society in God’s plan, Kuyper had minimized (intentionally or not) the uniqueness of the local church. This fifth stage, and the present one, is what he calls missional Kuyperianism.

Some various scribbles from the Q & A time…
- Christ is central to mission, and the church is indispensable
- Worldview studies is helpful in preparing us for mission
- “Story” is more than biblical theology; it’s the true story of the whole world
- Worldview is a servant to help us open up that story and equip us to be faithful in all of life
- Mission is as wide as life: we witness to the good news that Christ transforms marriages, politics, etc. – every area of life
- Is there a preference given to personal evangelism? We do need to speak, but our lives and our actions need to back it up. Nietzsche said something like this: “If I’m to believe in their Redeemer, they’re going to have to look a whole lot more redeemed.”
- Asked who else is along similar “missional Kuyperian” lines, he said there are pockets here and there, but Richard Mouw and Tim Keller are two prominent ones, though neither necessarily use that term.
- The already/not yet tension keeps us from being triumphalistic and also keeps us from defeatism or escapism.
- Overwhelmingly, critiques from Christians in Africa, Asia and Latin America are that the Western church is too rationalistic, individualistic and dualistic. We’d do well to listen to them humbly.

Is there any congruence between Goheen’s journey and yours? Do any of his conclusions along the way strike you as particularly insightful — or worrisome, for that matter?

1. The lasting legacy of Lesslie Newbigin
Michael Goheen writes for Q Ideas about the contributions Lesslie Newbigin made to Western Christianity and our understanding of mission:

It is a peculiarity of Western culture to isolate the domain of religion from the rest of life. Religion, he said, is a “set of beliefs, experiences, and practices that seek to grasp and express the ultimate nature of things, that which gives shape and meaning to life, that which claims final loyalty.” Thus religion includes the comprehensive worldviews that shape Western culture, like the modern scientific worldview in both its Marxist and its liberal-democratic-capitalist expressions. If the Western church is to be faithful to the gospel and its mission, we will need to work hard to understand the religious beliefs of our culture in order to extricate ourselves from idolatry.

2. Gerson on prudential politics
Michael Gerson writes for Capital Commentary about competing political priorities and the choices facing GOP voters especially:

[N]early every political choice involves the weighing of competing priorities—freedom and the common good. This is the reason that prudence is the highest of political virtues. And prudence is exactly what some political ideologies lack. Socialism places an unbalanced emphasis on equality above all else—resulting in the routine violation of individual rights. Libertarianism places an unbalanced emphasis on autonomy above all else—resulting in a nation without airport security and food safety laws. Raising a single, pure, simple principle in politics can be powerful—but it is almost always dangerous. Complexity is the nature of politics. It is also the sign of a serious political thinker or candidate.

3. The gospel of immigration
Dr. Russell Moore, from the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, urges us to remember the personhood of immigrants – documented or otherwise:

I’m amazed when I hear evangelical Christians speak of undocumented immigrants in this country with disdain as “those people” who are “draining our health care and welfare resources.” It’s horrifying to hear those identified with the Gospel speak, whatever their position on the issues, with mean-spirited disdain for the immigrants themselves. While evangelicals, like other Americans, might disagree on the political specifics of achieving a just and compassionate immigration policy, our rhetoric must be informed by more than politics, but instead by Gospel and mission.

4. Radical cartography
I find this kind of stuff fascinating: a Yale professor named Bill Rankin created a map of Chicago that shows racial and ethnic segregation in the city. It is here. Below is a spin-off map of Detroit from another guy named Eric Fisher. That one is here. If you click on the links you can see info on the various color designations.