Pure and Real Religion

"Here indeed is pure and real religion: faith so joined with an earnest fear of God that this fear also embraces willing reverence, and carries with it such legitimate worship as is prescribed in the law. And we ought to note this fact even more diligently: all men have a vague general veneration for God, but very few really reverence him; and wherever there is great ostentation in ceremonies, sincerity of heart is rare indeed" (Calvin, Institutes, 1.2.2).

Religion

In these uncongenial days in which we find ourselves, "religion" is routinely tarred and feathered and set on fire. I understand why, at least in some instances. Nevertheless, I don't think it need be. It is still useful to be able to speak of religion rightly construed. Especially if religion is defined, as it has been in the past, in a fine way.

Louis Berkhof does well in his Introductory Volume to Systematic Theology (pushlished as Systematic Theology: New Combined Edition, Kindle, Location 2197). The following definition of "religion" is taken from the chapter titled "Religion," which chapter comes within a larger section called "Principia of Dogmatics":

Religion consists in a real, living and conscious relationship between a man and his God, determined by the self-revelation of God, and expressing itself in a life of worship, fellowship, and service.

As I said, Berkhof does well. If we mean this when we speak of "religion," we shall also do well. And there shall be no need of lambasting religion rightly construed.

How Christians Press Forward in the Faith

A couple months back now I published a post titled: "The Application of Redemption." That title comes from the fifth chapter in Thomas Watson's magnificent and best-known book: A Body of Divinity. 

In that fifth chapter, expounding the Westminster shorter catechism, Watson works through key catechetical elements in our redemption, instructing the flock on matters faith, effectual calling, justification, adoption, sanctification, assurance, peace, joy, growth in grace, and perseverance. 

For this post I want to focus faith on what God's word says about perseverance in grace. (And I do indeed believe this is what God's word teaches, as I believe both Watson and Westminster offer us a faithful exposition of the doctrine.) To do so I'll quote a sizable section of the chapter from the Banner of Truth edition (A Body of Divinity, 280-281):

By what means do Christians come to persevere? 

[1] By the help of ordinances, as of prayer, the word, and the sacraments. Christians do not arrive at perseverance when they sit still and do nothing. It is not with us as with passengers in a ship, who are carried to the end of their voyage while they sit still in the ship . . . but we arrive at salvation in the use of means; as a man comes to the end of a race by running, to a victory by fighting. "Watch and pray" (Matt. 26:41). As Paul said, "Except ye abide in the ship, ye cannot be saved" (Acts 27:31). Believers shall come to shore at last, arrive at heaven; but "except they abide in the ship," namely, in the use of ordinances, "they cannot be saved." The ordinances cherish grace; as they beget grace, so they are the breast milk by which it is nourished and preserved to eternity.

[2] By the sacred influence and concurrence of the Spirit. The Spirit of God is continually at work in the heart of a believer, to carry on grace to perfection. It drops in fresh oil, to keep the lamp of grace burning. The Spirit excites, strengthens, increases grace, and makes a Christian go from one step of faith to another, till he comes to the end of his faith, which is salvation (1 Pet. 1:9). It is a fine expression of the apostle, "The Holy Spirit which dwells in us" (2 Tim. 1:14). He who dwells in a house, keeps the house in repair; so the Spirit dwelling in a believer, keeps grace in repair. Grace is compared to a river of the water of life (John 7:38). This river can never be dried up, because God's Spirit is the spring that continually feeds it.  

[3] Grace is carried on to perfection by Christ's daily intercession. As the Spirit is at work in the heart, so is Christ at work in heaven. Christ is ever praying that the saint's grace may hold out. "Father, keep those whom thou has given me." Keep them as the stars in their orbs: keep them as jewels, that they may not be lost. "Father keep them" (John 17:11). That prayer which Christ made for Peter, was the copy of the prayer he now makes for believers. "I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not," (Luke 22:32) that it be not totally eclipsed. How can the children of such prayers perish?

The Love of God and the Love of Our Neighbor in God

"All God's commandments, one of which is, 'Thou shalt not commit adultery,' and all those precepts which are not commandments but special counsels, one of which is, 'It is good for a man not to touch a woman,' are rightly carried out only when the motive principle of action is the love of God, and the love of our neighbor in God" (Augustine, Enchiridion, 139–140).

Baptism into Christ's Body

I just started to read Robert Letham's Systematic Theology, published by Crossway in 2019. And it just might become my go-to one-volume systematic theology along with Louis Berkhof's. So far, it is riveting. (Never thought I'd say this about a contemporary systematics text!) I will probably post a bit more on it as I get into its contents more deeply, but for now I simply want to cite a portion on baptism.

As I began to read the section on baptism (in preparation for our daughter Zoe's baptism this upcoming weekend), I thought to myself, and blurted out to my wife: "This is my view! This is what the New Testament actually teaches!" It's rooted in the Bible's fairly straightforward teaching instead of our modern systems on these things, where baptism tends to get detached from its biblical, ecclesial, and salvific contexts. Letham does well in holding things together that few Christians (North American, at least) seem to be able to hold together.

Note that the discussion of baptism in Letham's volume comes after justification, not in a detached section on ecclesiology, but in a chapter entitled "The Beginning of the Christian Life," which is itself part of a larger section on "The Spirit of God and the People of God." Here's a salutary sample, and a good simple word on baptism:

It is appropriate to bring baptism into the equation at this point [after a discussion on justification]. The New Testament presents baptism as one of the points of entry into salvation, together with repentance, faith, and the reception of the Holy Spirit; these all feature in the evangelistic sermons in Acts. Throughout the New Testament Epistles there are allusions to baptism in this connection. Moreover, Rome makes baptism the instrumental cause of justification; while this has had unfortunate consequences, it alerts us to the need to provide some coherent answer. We saw in the previous chapter the close connections between regeneration, union with Christ, and baptism, connections often missed in evangelical and much recent Reformed thought [italics mine]. The Western world has been prone to thinking in analytical categories, breaking realities down into component parts, with distinctions to the forefront rather than connections. There is need to repair this imbalance in our present context. . . . 

Baptism is essential to the church's ministry. Jesus instituted it and required it as primary (Matt. 28:18–20). The way the church is to make the nations disciples is first by baptizing them. This occurred at Pentecost only a few days later (Acts 2:37–41). There, Peter linked baptism to the gift of the Spirit and cleansing from sin (1 Pet. 3:21). Paul also connects baptism with cleansing from sin (Acts 22:16) and elsewhere mentions baptism in the same breath as membership of the body of Christ and the gift of the Spirit (1 Cor. 12:13). It is the entry point into the church and so marks, in its way, the entrance into salvation. 

 —Robert Letham, Systematic Theology (Wheaton: Crossway, 2019), 705–706.

What Justifying Faith Is

In the last post from Thomas Watson's justly famous A Body of Divinity I sought to introduce a portion of the book and its broader context. That portion is the fifth chapter entitled "The Application of Redemption." Here, working through key catechetical elements in our redemption, Pastor Watson instructs the flock of God on matters of faith, effectual calling, justification, adoption, sanctification, assurance, peace, joy, growth in grace, and perseverance, each in turn. And each full of matter for meditation and provocation for practice. We look now, first off, at what justifying faith is.

Watson wisely notes first what it is not. This is important, not least when counterfeits go about unchecked and unchallenged. Everyone believes today in the evangelical church. Or they wouldn't be there, right? Wrong. Without going into all the reasons why man (who is incurably religious) might attend an "evangelical" church, it is sufficient to focus on what Watson avers: "There may be assent to divine truth, and yet no work of grace on the heart" (215). That's no doubt right. One may agree that the gospel is true and still not know God or be justified by his grace. This sort of "faith" is the faith of devils. They know the gospel is true, but don't love it or trust it. So, Watson continues: "Many assent in their judgments, that sin is an evil thing, but they go on in sin, whose corruptions are stronger than their convictions. . ." (215). May it never be with us.

Well, what then, you ask, is a justifying faith, or a faith that justifies? What is the sort of faith that saves sinners from the coming wrath? What faith unites to the risen Jesus and puts one right with a holy God, a God who cannot truck with sin? According to our trustworthy physician of the soul for this post, it consists in three things: 1) self-renunciation; 2) reliance; and 3) appropriation.

First, self-renunciation. "Faith is a going out of one's self, being taken off from our own merits, and seeing we have no righteousness of our own. 'Not having mine own righteousness' (Phil. 3:9). Self-righteousness is a broken reed, which the soul dares not lean on. Repentance and faith are both humbling graces; by repentance a man abhors himself; by faith he goes out of himself" (216). For our purposes today, almost certainly the main thing to observe here is that justifying faith does not make much of the self. It's not impressed with the self. The self-serving swollen-self is a thing to be repented of rather than touted and tickled. Faith looks away from this swollen self upward "to him who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb." And it looks to his goodness, his greatness, his glory, and says: "not having a righteousness of my own." It says: “not impressed with the self.” It says: “no good thing dwells in me, that is, in my flesh.”

Next, Watson speaks of how faith, if it is to be a faith that justifies, includes the element of reliance. Faith relies not on the self, but on another. "Faith rests on Christ's person. Faith believes the promise; but that which faith rests upon in the promise is the person of Christ. . . . Faith is described to be 'believing on the name of the Son of God' (1 John 3:23), namely, upon his person. . . . Faith rests on Christ's person 'as crucified' [and, I'll add, risen and reigning and coming again in great power and glory]. It glories in the cross of Christ (Gal. 6:14)." This is the proper person (not the swollen self) for faith to rely on. And this person—Christ crucified, risen, reigning!—knows nothing of the modern self, which is conceited and self-absorbed. No, the person of the risen Jesus is swallowed up in his Father's glory and will. The person of Christ is swallowed up in diving love, not self-love. And he came to nail the modern self to the cross along with all our other God-belittling sins of self-exaltation. 

Lastly, then, comes appropriation. A justifying faith applies Christ to itself. To illustrate, Watson paints this picture: "A medicine, though it be ever so sovereign, if not applied, will do no good. . . . This applying of Christ is called receiving him (John 1:12). The hand receiving gold, enriches; so the hand of faith, receiving Christ's golden merits with salvation, enriches us" (216). And this receiving or appropriation language is fitting for faith that focuses on another away from the swollen self. The modern self can do nothing for its self, or by its self, or with its self. No, rather, looking up and away from its self, authentic faith receives with the hand of a beggar the free gift of God.

What is worthy here to focus faith's attention on as I end this post is how a justifying faith is not one that merely knows the benefits of redemption or thinks of those benefits as the proper object for faith. Rather, as Watson eloquently puts it, faith fastens itself on Christ himself. It is the person of Jesus faith embraces—as coming in the likeness of sinful flesh, working miracles in our midst, teaching about the kingdom of God, and as crucified and risen and reigning as King of the nations, pouring out his Spirit, coming again in power and glory. Yes, no doubt as working wonders on our behalf and bringing forgiveness and freedom. Yes, no doubt as reconciling the rebel to the Sovereign whose majesty was infinitely offended by the self-satisfied-swollen self. But the benefits of redemption ought never to be held forth for faith except as they come in the person, work, and words of the Christ sent from above. He alone in all his glory is the proper place for faith to fasten its gaze. And when it does so through self-renunciation, reliance, and appropriation, the swollen-self is crucified, and the sinner justified. Forgiven! Freed! Righteous! Loved! Not guilty! No condemnation! Reconciled to a holy heavenly Father. All in the beloved, in whom alone is there redemption. 

"Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing" (Rev. 5:12).

The Application of Redemption

The title above comes from the fifth chapter in Thomas Watson's magnificent and best-known book: A Body of Divinity. I have been reading this book through for a second time now (the first time feels like ages ago) a few mornings a week when faith is flagging in order to fan the flame. And this second time through for me is far more invigorating than the first (which is not to say that the first was without benefit and appreciation, but more years have a way of clarifying a lot of things). My esteem for Thomas Watson and for this work in particular continues to grow.

Just a brief bit of background and then I'll jump right in to a series of posts pertaining to the aforementioned chapter on the application of redemption. Watson was an English Presbyterian Puritan minister who lived circa 1620–1686. His Body of Divinity, published posthumously in 1692, comes from a series of sermons he preached to his people on the Westminster Shorter Catechism. This series of sermons numbered 176. Many of these fed into the Body of Divinity, but not all. The rest fed into Watson's books The Lord's Prayer and The Ten Commandments. These three books together make up a trilogy on the Westminster Shorter Catechism. (See Meet the Puritans by Beeke and Pederson for the chapter on Thomas Watson, from which I refreshed my memory of this background information.)

The first section in the chapter "The Application of Redemption" from Watson's Body of Divinity is on faith. He begins by citing Gal. 2:20 (in the king's English, of course): "The life that I now live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God." And he asserts that it is the Spirit who "applies to us the redemption purchased by Christ, by working faith in us" (Watson, Body of Divinity, 215). And then, before getting into the kinds of faith that people may possess, Watson speaks a short pithy word that packs the punch of the profound pastoral theology for which Watson has became known and loved. Here is trademark Watson: "Christ is the glory, and faith in Christ the comfort, of the gospel" (215). Christ is indeed the glory of the Gospel. And faith in his name is indeed its comfort. Amen, pastor Watson. 

I'll end this brief introductory post here on this simply yet profoundly stated note. In the next post I shall cover something of what Watson teaches about what justifying faith is. I hope this present post has whet your appetite for more. Lord willing, in the posts to follow, as here, I shall be citing and summarizing from the Banner of Truth's revised edition of Watson's book. Which reminds me: Banner of Truth books ought to be part of any disciple's diet these days, and perhaps my mentioning one of them here in glowing terms will set you going to get a meal from that market. 

Our Only Comfort in Life and in Death

The Heidelberg Catechism is golden. We're teaching it to our children. And the
first question is the sweetest and most precious of them all. Here it is:

Question 1: What is your only comfort, in life and in death?

Answer: That I belong—body and soul, in life and in death—not to myself but to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ, who at the cost of his own blood has fully paid for all my sins and has completely freed me from the dominion of the devil; that he protects me so well that without the will of my Father in heaven not a hair can fall from my head; indeed, that everything must fit his purpose for my salvation. Therefore, by his Holy Spirit, he also assures me of eternal life, and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready from now on to live for him.

 —Mark A. Noll, ed., Confessions and Catechisms of the Reformation (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1991), 137.

Why Preaching is often Inneffectual

"Catechising is the best expedient for the grounding and settling of people. I fear one reason why there has been no more good done by preaching, has been because the chief heads and articles in religion have not been explained in a catechistical way" (Watson, A Body of Divinity, 5).

Divine Impassibility

There was a day when the impassibility of God was impassible. That is, it was assumed as something we simply knew about God's being. But that day appears to have passed: now it seems that the mass of men and women in the know (those who think and write about such things) want to affirm as basic theology the passibility of God. And by this they mean that God feels pain and suffers emotionally as one who is subject to the free agency of others and the vicissitudes of a broken and battered world mired in tragedies.

The first step we must take, in order to decide whether or not we ought to walk in lockstep with these people on the passibility path, is one in the direction of definition. Specifically, we need to define what we mean by suffering and by emotions.

If by emotions (or we might say passions) we mean, for example, that God "loses his cool" from time to time, or "flies off the handle" (as they say), or becomes overwhelmed, or is overtaken by sorrow unexpectedly, or the like, we must assert emphatically that God has no such emotions or passions. God is the sort of being who, although experiencing emotions analogous to ours, never experiences them apart from his deliberate and sovereign choosing in line with all his perfections. And in this sense—at least vis-à-vis fallen creatures—God is sui generis. There is none like unto him, as the King's English told us hundreds of years ago.

Now, if by suffering we mean, for example, that God experiences pain inflicted upon him from without, as a passive subject of hurt or harm done to him, unable to avoid the pain or keep himself from experiencing emotional hurt, well, then, again we must assert unequivocally that God experiences no such suffering. God is "above it all" in this sense. He's out of the reach of any harm or pain that might be inflicted upon him. The aseity of God and the absolute freedom of God are unassailable. God's Godness is immutable. All that he is, he always is (God's simplicity). And no one can take his serenity or joy from him. Or anything belonging to his essential nature, for that matter.

So, at some level, in some sense, we really do need, then, to affirm the impassibility of God. For if we don't, we shall end up de-godding God. But, in doing this, let us never forget, if we go along with the cool crowd in the direction of divine passibility, we shall only be de-godding God in our idolatrous minds (for in truth God is beyond our attempts to domesticate him). And in this reducing God to the size of a giant human, we shall lose all our hope and joy. For a god who is unable to avoid pain that a creature throws his way is a god who cannot save us in our plight either. He can only commiserate with us in our misery as one subject to a similar misery. And so, it turns out, such a god is not God at all.

Yet, we must say more. Even while we seek to steer quite clear of reducing God to our size, we must also steer equally quite clear of the god of the philosophers, a deity who is stoical and untouched in any sense whatever by our pathetic condition. We must not head off in the other unbiblical direction and confess a god who commands us to "weep with those who weep" (Rom. 12:15) while he himself is unmoved by our tears. No, we ought not to suppose that the God who lives is the sort of being who puts our tears in his bottle (Ps. 56:8) without any feeling for us in his doing so. "Jesus wept" (Jn. 11:35). The God who reveals himself in Scripture is a God who grieves (e.g., Gen. 6:6; Eph. 4:30). Yet he does so (and this point is crucial) as one who embraces the grief willingly, in total control, without his perfections being altered in any way, without a loss of sovereign serenity and volcanic joy.

Immediately an objection comes to mind. (That bubble over your head gives it away.) You say: "But how can it be that God really experiences grief if he never loses his peace and joy?" To which I reply: it must be something like what Paul says redeemed humans can experience in 2 Cor. 6:10. It must be like Paul's "sorrowful, yet always rejoicing," but without any creaturely limitations or imperfections, and without God ceasing to be all that he is in his triune glory. If we can be both sad and glad simultaneously, why can't we get our minds around a being far more resourceful than we are doing the same? And doing it far better than we do, with far more integration and consistency of character. I can't see why God couldn't be infinitely glad and yet choose to embrace sorrow in some way akin to the sorrow we suffer. It seems to me that the biblical presentation of God necessitates this sort of stance and way forward in our walk with God (for after all, we're going to walk with him along the path of life, and not with those who seek to assault his glory, aren't we?).

It is important at this point to elaborate on and elucidate (one hopes) the element of choice in God's being who and how he is. Since I've now claimed twice in this post that God chooses as one completely in control of all things at all times (including his emotional or affectional life), we need to think a little how this can be so. How can it be that God would choose to experience certain emotions in response to his nearness to his creatures? We all know that you don't just turn on an emotion like you do the light switch in the entryway to your home. Right, not just like a switch. Agreed. It's not mechanical like that. But perhaps we also need to think about whether or not we're thinking about controlling our emotions entirely rightly. After all, God does command emotions in Scripture. A lot. And how could he dare do this unless there is some capacity for doing what he commands, or some culpability for not doing what he commands?

I've already mentioned one such passage (Rom. 12:15). If God commands us to "weep with those who weep," presumably there is such a thing as choosing thoughtfully to respond to others with an appropriate emotion that fits the situation. To point out only a few others, we're commanded to "rejoice always" (Phil. 4:4), and this includes even tough times. We're commanded to love our enemies (Matt. 5:44), which emotionally is not easy for reasons with which we're all familiar. And, to cite only one more, we're enjoined to be grateful in all circumstances (1 Thess. 5:18), which really can't sincerely be done with a sour attitude. So, if we are to be subject to God's mind on these matters, we must say that at least for those renewed according to God's Spirit there is a capacity to "turn on" (to stay with the light switch illustration) certain emotions.

And so now, perhaps we can see, on analogy with what we're required and enabled to do, God himself chooses to embrace certain emotional responses that are fitting and meaningful as he relates to his creatures. If his word speaks to what we're required to be and do in line with imitating who he is (and it does), then it ought to be clear that God himself behaves similarly to what he requires of us. That is, God, for example, weeps with those who weep, as it is fitting to respond this way according to his infinite perfections and wisdom.

Lastly, we need to take a look—the longer and harder the better—at the cross of Christ. For there God's glory shines most brightly. And there we see the divine Son of God suffering at the hands of sinners. On those Roman gallows hung the God-man like a damned malefactor, tortured by mere mortals, spit upon by their hatred, mocked and ridiculed by fools, all the while suspended stark naked because they chose to strip him in their malice with the volitional and legal powers they possessed as free agents. And yet, Jesus taught us that no one took his life from him, but he laid it down of his own accord (Jn. 10:18). Moved by love, he suffered the cross because he wanted to do it in obedience to his Father (Phil. 2:8) and to redeem his people (Gal. 3:13). So, yes, he experienced pain. But he did not do so as one who was merely the subject of circumstances and volitions that neither he nor his Father could thwart. No, they planned it. They foreordained that the Son would suffer (Acts 2:23; 4:28). But they were by no means passive or helpless in this. No, as the church fathers used to say, Jesus was even then reigning from the cross.

Therefore, we should continue to affirm that God is impassible. But we should not do so in a way that, for example, mutes the testimony of Scripture that God took to himself suffering by embracing a body in order to die. And we must also affirm that he experiences emotions on analogy with ours, but without any imperfections tainting the emotion, and without any diminution to any of his perfections. Surely there is mystery here. But if we're Christians at all, we've already come to grips with many such mysteries, mysteries that we glory in. We know the incarnation is true, but can't fathom how it can be true. The mechanics, so to speak, are beyond us. We know man made upright rebelled against God, because God has revealed this to us. But we can't for the life of us see the depths to how it can be so. How on earth did a righteous man do unrighteousness? Yet, there it is, from the mouth of God. And so we bow low. And submit in faith.

And so it is with the nature and character of God. We know certain characteristics about him are true, because he's revealed these, but we don't foolishly pretend or suppose we're getting to the bottom of these things. "The finite cannot contain the infinite." God is God, and we are not.

You May Safely Ignore the Philosophers, but not the Theologians

Edwards:

The things of divinity not only concern ministers, but are of infinite importance to all Christians. It is not with the doctrines of divinity as it is with the doctrines of philosophy and other sciences. These last are generally speculative points, which are of little concern in human life; and it very little alters the case as to our temporal or spiritual interests, whether we know them or not. Philosophers differ about them, some being of one opinion, and others of another. And while they are engaged in warm disputes about them, others may well leave them to dispute among themselves, without troubling their heads much about them; it being of little concern to them whether the one or the other be in the right.

But it is not thus in matters of divinity. The doctrines of this nearly concern everyone. They are about those things which relate to every man's eternal salvation and happiness.

—Jonathan Edwards, Sermons and Discourses 1739–1742 (vol. 22 in the Works of Jonathan Edwards; ed. Harry S. Stout; New Haven: Yale University, 2003), 92.

Do It Again!

Chesterton:

Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, "Do it again"; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, "Do it again" to the sun; and every evening, "Do it again" to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daises alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.

—G. K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy (San Francisco: Ignatius, 1995), 36–37.

Why Study Systematic Theology?

Randy Alcorn on why churches should study systematic theology. I've been saying this sort of thing for years and years. I'm fully convinced that systematic theology would wonderfully equip and strengthen the church in a whole host of ways.

Theologian as Dragon-Slayer

"The theologian, far from having a faith based on wish fulfillment, is rather employed (at least part-time) in the role of dragon-slayer, as one who casts down false gods. Or, to put it into contemporary terms, the theologian is an ideology-critic."

—Kevin Vanhoozer, "The Nature and Purpose of Theology: Science or Sapientia?" (lecture, Trinity Evangelical Divinity School, Deerfield, IL, September 9, 2015).

What Is Theology?

Here's my present attempt at a definition that embraces the whole enterprise of theologizing. It aims at making clear that doing theology is an activity that invests the whole person as a living sacrifice of worship as one who is God addressed, God possessed, and God obsessed. It is not, in other words, a lifeless and arid academic exercise. You'll perhaps notice that it is heavily influenced by the likes of Anselm, Vanhoozer, Packer, Edwards, and, no doubt, many others.

Theology is faith seeking, speaking, and showing (i.e., doing/living) contemporary, contextual, communal, catholic, and canonical understanding of the things of the Spirit (i.e., the things of the triune God, the things of the gospel)—to the glory of God the Father, Son, and Spirit.

How Theology Differs from the Other Sciences

"Although theology treats of the same things with metaphysics, physics and ethics, yet the mode of considering is far different. It treats of God not like metaphysics as a being or as he can be known from the light of nature, but as that Creator and Redeemer made known by revelation. It treats of creatures not as things of nature, but of God (i.e., as holding a relation and order to God as their Creator, preserver and Redeemer) and that too according to the revelation made by him. This mode of considering, the other sciences do not know or do not assume" (Francis Turretin, Institutes of Elenctic Theology, 1:17).

What Is Doctrine?

What is "doctrine"?  And, specifically, what is Christian doctrine? What follows are some orienting definitions from two of the most influential theologians in my life. And you'll no doubt note some tensions here. And that's okay. Working this out is the task of theologizing for the sake of doctrinal understanding.

First, Packer (since he's the senior theologian): Doctrine is "theology as taught."

And, now, Vanhoozer: Doctrine is "lived understanding," involving "not only concepts but also the church's whole way of life: beliefs, values, and everyday practices."

—J. I. Packer, "Doctrine" (lecture, Regent College, Vancouver, BC, Spring, 2015), 41; Kevin J. Vanhoozer, Faith Speaking Understanding: Performing the Drama of Doctrine (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2014), 170.

The Task of Doctrine

“It is the task of doctrine to direct disciples to fill empty spaces and empty moments with redemptive speech and action. At its best, theology helps form us into people who can walk across the stage of world history like Christ” (Vanhoozer, Faith Speaking Understanding, 47).