Tim Høiland
17May/120

Lesslie Newbigin on faith, doubt, and gospel reasonableness

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]

17Sep/11Off

Repaso: The legacy of Newbigin, Gerson on prudential politics, gospel of immigration, and radical cartography

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.

18May/10Off

Is a church really a church if it exists only for itself?

The tendency towards polarization in our society is rampant. We see it perhaps most clearly and prominently in political debates, but it happens all over the place, not the least of which being debates within and about the church. While polarizing voices do tend to get a lot of attention, it’s debatable whether they’re really all that helpful in any positive, constructive sense.

For that reason, I'm thankful for thoughtful people who know where they stand, but who aren’t intentionally or flippantly divisive about it. Tim Morey, author of Embodying Our Faith: Becoming a Living, Sharing, Practicing Church, is one of those thoughtful voices.

Morey is a pastor and church planter in California, and this book is a reworking of his dissertation from Fuller Seminary. What I so appreciate about the book is that while Morey asks a lot of penetrating questions (“Is a church really a church if it exists only for itself?�) he goes about the task humbly, without any apparent axe to grind. He seems genuinely concerned with helping the church - his own and the North American church more broadly - to become, as the subtitle says, a living, sharing, practicing church. His is a high ecclesiology without ever slipping into the realm of wishful thinking.

Morey writes as one who at one point walked away from the church before coming back to make pastoring and church planting his life’s work. This gives his perspective and insight some added legitimacy, in my opinion. He understands and empathizes with those in our “post-Christian� culture who have left the church or simply see no reason for it, but he is also deeply committed to help bring them back. Or, perhaps more accurately, he is committed to helping the church go to them. He takes up Lesslie Newbigin’s plea for the necessity of being a missionary church to our own Western culture and urges us to develop an “embodied apologetic� rather than a merely rational one.

Importantly, while urging us to embrace the “whole� gospel through an embodied apologetic including both compassion and evangelism as the fabric of our life, he warns that we run the risk of losing sight of the simple core of Christ’s teaching: discipleship. Highly rational, propositional evangelistic approaches - arguably the norm in evangelical churches - have tended to de-emphasize the importance of what's supposed to happen between conversion and death. Many of us are guilty of a sort of bait-and-switch evangelism in which we offer a fire insurance policy for free and only later share the fine print about what is expected of us as Christians, disciples of Jesus. Alternately, others of us have tended to focus on compassion but never get around to what it is that's uniquely Christian about our activity.

Morey comes to basically the same conclusion I have been coming to of late: discipleship entails a life in which compassion for others (regardless of need) and a call to conversion (most often a process rather than an event) are but two parts of a seamless whole.

Though he might have turned more heads and sold more books by taking sides in the hot-button theological debates of today, Morey has chosen the better way. He engages these pressing issues in a smart yet humble way and, through his example, urges us to move beyond reactionary rhetoric and towards the building up of a more Christ-like community of faith that truly embodies the good news for our neighbors.

Special thanks to the Origins Project and InterVarsity Press for providing this book for review, free of charge.