The Third Wave And The Third World

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PNEUMA 37 (2015) 177–200

The Third Wave and the Third World C. Peter Wagner, John Wimber, and the Pedagogy of Global Renewal in the Late Twentieth Century*

Jon Bialecki

University of Edinburgh, Edinburgh, Scotland

Jon.Bialecki@ed.ac.uk

Abstract

While a great deal of social science literature has examined the explosion of pente- costal and charismatic Christianity in the Global South as well as conservative and anti-modern forms of resurgent Christianity in the United States, little work has been done to investigate the causal effects of the former on the latter. Drawing from exist- ing literature, interviews, and archives, this article contributes to filling that gap by arguing that in the mid-twentieth century, evangelical missionary concerns about com- petition from global Pentecostalism led to an intellectual crisis at the Fuller School of World Missions; this crisis in turn influenced important Third Wave figuressuch as John Wimber and C. Peter Wagner and is linked to key moments and developments in their thought and pedagogy.

Keywords

C. Peter Wagner – Church Growth – Fuller School of World Missions – global Pente- costalism – John Wimber – pedagogy

* In addition to the print and archive sources listed below, this material is drawn from confi-

dential interviews with people associated both with The Vineyard and the Fuller School of

World Missions/School of Intercultural Studies; I thank them for their generosity. I also wish

to thank the librarians and archivists at the Regent University Library for all the assistance

rendered to me when I was researching in the John Wimber Collection. An earlier version of

this talk was presented to the University of Edinburgh Centre for the Study of World Chris-

tianity Seminar Series. Drafts of this paper benefited from comments by Amos Yong, Caleb

Maskell, and two anonymous peer reviewers; all errors and insufficiencies are of course mine

alone.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2015 | doi: 10.1163/15700747-03702001

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This essay argues that a crisis in evangelical missiology resulted from the rapid growth of Pentecostalism worldwide and that this crisis had important effects on the thought and pedagogy of several important American charismatic fig- ures, including John Wimber (a leading figure in the Vineyard Christian Fel- lowship) and C. Peter Wagner (a noted charismatic educator and author). Fur- thermore, this article also argues that through Wagner and Wimber this crisis resulted in an “instrumentalization” of charismata in the early Vineyard and in a shift from a quantitative imaginary to a qualitative imaginary in segments of the American Church Growth movement. Part of the stakes in this argu- ment arise from the influence of these two figures; however, part of the possible relevance of this argument comes from the fact that it is relatively rare for academics to consider the influence of global Christianity on the charismatic renewal movements of the 1980s and 1990s.

This is unfortunate. Of all the world-historical shifts that have occurred in the last one hundred years, without doubt among the most important have been the shifts in the global distribution, numbers, forms, and intensities of Christianity in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. This has, at least in part, taken the form of the exponential growth of the pentecostal and charis- matic versions of Christianity in Africa, Latin America, and Oceania, which has brought about both a demographic and an intellectual shift in the locus of Christianity from Europe and America to the so-called Global South (previ- ously known as the Third World).1

It is usual, in discussing these forms of Christianity, to contrast their growth and intellectual influence with the demographic loss and secularization that has occurred in the previous Christian centers of concentration in western Europe and Anglophone North America.2

Secularization, however understood, has not been a uniform process. Soci- ological evidence indicates that while some religious forms have been waning, until quite recently more “conservative” forms of Christianity have fared better and had even tended to grow, although this growth may have recently topped out in America. I am careful about the term conservative here, because I want to be clear that these resurgent forms of American religiosity under discussion are not conservative in the Burkean sense of the word. In the United States, for

1 See generally Joel Robbins, “The Globalization of Pentecostal and Charismatic Christianity,”

Annual Review of Anthropology 33 (2004): 117–143; Philip Jenkins, The Next Christendom: The

Coming of Global Christianity(New York: Oxford University Press, 2002).

2 These generalizations are particularly the case in my discipline of anthropology; for reasons

of competency and comity, anthropology will be the primary (though not the exclusive) focus

of my discussion of the literature.

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instance, these avowedly anti-modern forms of Christianity have been quite innovative at the levels of technology, practice, aesthetics, and theology, and these innovations have been at times quite important.3

A good example of this innovation is the “Third Wave,” an American charis- matic revival movement that started in the late twentieth century. The term Third Wave is used to suggest that this form of pentecostal-infused evangelical Christianity, which consists of post-denominational charismatically affiliated churches, is a successor to the two “previous” “waves of the Spirit”: Pentecostal- ism in the early twentieth century and the mid-century charismatic move- ments that occurred in the various established denominations. Unfortunately the term is misleading, since it tends to portray these other Christian forms as living fossils; and it is questionable whether terms of more recent coinage, such as the “New Apostolic Reformation” or “Apostolic Networks,” are any better.

A specific illustration is the Vineyard, which, having originated in Southern California, is now an international church planting movement. When the Vine- yard discusses its “distinctives” it focuses on being “culturally current,” that is, it eschews what it sees as “religious” forms and instead prefers speech, pre- sentation, and worship that are more in harmony with contemporary cultural and aesthetic norms. Vineyard praise music, for example, borrows heavily from various popular music genres. More telling of innovation, the Vineyard also presents itself as “empowered evangelicals” or as part of the “radical middle.”4 Both of these rather gnomic terms indicate that the Vineyard understands itself to be a mix of evangelical theology on one hand and pentecostal supernatural practices, such as speaking in tongues, healing, and prophecy, on the other. This may seem to be an unstable compound, and the fractious history of the Vine- yard suggests that it is, but for many Vineyard believers, particularly long-term

3 On theologically conservative American Protestantism as ideologically anti-modern while

still adopting modern technologies and organizational templates, see Bruce Lawrence, De-

fenders of God: The Fundamentalist Revolt Against the Modern Age (Columbia, sc: University

of South Carolina Press, 1995); Susan Friend Harding, The Book of Jerry Falwell: Fundamen-

talist Language and Politics (Princeton, nj: Princeton University Press, 2000). This literature

primarily addresses forms of Fundamentalism and Conservative Evangelicalism; in contrast,

R.G. Robin has argued that certain strains of early Pentecostalism could be characterized as

displaying a folk-modernity; that characterization seems to be in part based on the utilitar-

ian use of modernist modes of organization, however. R.G. Robins, A.J. Tomlinson: Plainfolk

Modernist (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004).

4 Rich Nathan and Ken Wilson, Empowered Evangelicals: Bringing Together the Best of the

Evangelical and Charismatic Worlds(Ann Arbor,mi: Vine Books, 1995); Bill Jackson,The Quest

for the Radical Middle: A History of the Vineyard (Cape Town: Vineyard International, 1999).

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veterans and leadership, this instability is a feature and not a bug; it makes their religious practice seem exciting and perhaps a little dangerous.

Both this sense of danger and the idea of the Vineyard as a hybrid object are an inheritance from John Wimber. Wimber was, at different times, both the founding director of the Department of Church Growth at the Fuller Institute of Evangelicalism and Church Growth and a session player for the Righteous Brothers. He led the Vineyard from 1982until his death in 1997;it wasduring this period that the Vineyard experienced its greatest growth, and this was also the time when its reputation as a charismatic renewal movement was cemented.

The Vineyard has had respectable growth; it has expanded from thirteen churches when Wimber started stewarding the movement to its present state of 1,500 churches globally, with about 590 churches in the United States and more than one hundred churches in the uk.5 More than for its growth, how- ever, the Vineyard has been lauded for its influence; it has been described as being responsible for the “Californianization” of American Evangelicalism, as being part of a “second reformation” that has resulted in a new, experientially centered Protestantism, and as one of the “way-stations on [the] transnational rails” that are responsible for the global propagation of neo-charismatic and pentecostal Christianity.6

This last descriptor is interesting, because it brings up a common omission in the literature. By and large little has been written about the simultaneous rise of what we might call “global Pentecostalism” on one hand, and of anti-modern forms of American Protestant and post-Protestant Christianity on the other. When this phenomenon is addressed, at least in the field of anthropology, it is usually as the effect of ideational material and financial support from western and often American forms of Christianity to global pentecostal-charismatic Christianity;7when the effect of global pentecostal-charismatic Christianity on western and North American Christianity is considered, it is usually either as part of diasporic movements or expatriate churches opening in the West (for instance, in the vast literature on Ghanian and Nigerian churches in Europe and the United Kingdom).

5 Thomas Higgins, “Kenn Gulliksen, John Wimber, and the Founding of the Vineyard Move-

ment,”Pneuma34 (2012): 208–228.

6 Mark Shibley, Resurgent Evangelicalism in the United States: Mapping Cultural Change since

1970 (Columbia, sc: University of South Carolina Press, 1996); Donald Miller, Reinventing

American Protestantism: Christianityin the New Millennium(Berkeley: University of California

Press, 1997); David Martin, Pentecostalism: The World Their Parish (Malden, ma: Blackwell

Publishers, 2002).

7 See, e.g., Steve Brouwer, Paul Gifford, and Susan D. Rose, Exporting the American Gospel:

Global Christian Fundamentalism(New York: Routledge, 1996).

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This lack of attention on the part of anthropologists to the effects of global Christianity on the West is particularly pronounced. The last decade has seen a growing interest in global Christianity as well as Christianity in Europe and America.8 That shift, however, has occurred for what is understood to be two distinct and autonomous reasons: global Christianity has become of interest to anthropology because of its growth, while resurgent anti-modern western Christianity is seen as a worthy object because of its perceived political vitality.9

There are reasons to be suspicious of this account of one-sided western influence: it is clear that in previous moments of comparable religious foment there was a much greater level of transnational integration. Historians of early Pentecostalism, and indeed early Pentecostals themselves, were well aware of the international networks traced out by late nineteenth- and early twentieth- century revivals; in contrast to the usual Topeka-to-Azusa Street folk narrative common among contemporary pentecostal believers in the United States, early twentieth-century pentecostal intellectuals such as Frank Bartleman often pos- ited different alternative peregrinations of the movement, favoring itineraries that had the spirit first transversing Wales and India instead of Topeka before alighting in Los Angeles and Azusa Street.10

Here I will present a similar international genealogy for the Vineyard, albeit one with more phase changes and one that goes through a rather narrow institutional bottleneck. Now the Vineyard tends to frame its history as a domestic revival; what is being claimed here is that both the form and the growth of the Vineyard were catalyzed by a crisis in American evangelical missiology that is directly traceable to the growth of Christianity in the Global South. This crisis gave rise to an attempt by American Evangelicals to capture what they would categorize as pentecostal supernatural powers and to use these powers for what they understood as godly but yet technocratic ends: as another instrument in the set of tools that was programmatically offered by the self-styled social science of American Church Growth. This, I will argue, not only gave rise to the Vineyard, but it also mutated segments of the Church Growth movement so much that it became something else entirely.

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See Jon Bialecki, Naomi Haynes, and Joel Robbins, “The Anthropology of Christianity,” Religion Compass2 (2008): 1139–1158.

For a rare exception in anthropology, see Kevin Lewis O’Neill, City of God: Christian Citizenship in Postwar Guatemala (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2010), which discusses the mutually beneficial interactions between pentecostal megachurch pastors in both the developed and the developing worlds.

Frank Bartleman, Azusa Street (Plainfield,nj: Logos International, 1980).

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“Look Out! The Pentecostals are Coming!”

Scholars writing on the Vineyard treat it is as a domestic affair, a revival that fell from the sky in a hermetically sealed Protestant America. Three scholarly works offer accounts that have been beneficial in documenting this quickly growing movement. To differing degrees, however, they focus on the Vineyard only in so far as it responded to, catalyzed, or caused transformations within white evangelical culture within the United States; when the forces that brought the Vineyard into being are explored in the context of any larger socio-historical phenomena, they are regarded primarily as intertwined with changes in the broader Anglophone culture.

Tanya Luhrmann’s When God Talks Back is chiefly an ethnographic account of the modes of self-discipline that allow Vineyard believers to have a sense of God as both a sensory presence and a perceived interlocutor.11The author does, however, take up history as well, tracing this underlying desire for immediacy back to the Jesus People movement of the 1960s; this, Timothy Jenkins has recently stated, “on its own is a valuable contribution to the study of Protestant Christianity.”12

Similarly, Donald Miller’s Reinventing American Protestantism also depicts the Vineyard as basically a sequel to the 1960s Jesus People movement and an iteration of a larger postmodern American Protestantism.13 What sets the Vineyard apart in Miller’s account was its transformation by Wimber’s exper- tise as a Fuller “church growth consultant” and by his interest in more charis- matic Christianity and divine healing. Miller regards the Vineyard as a new turn resulting from a post-1960s rejection of hierarchical religion and, simultane- ously, as another repetition of the cycle of denominational growth and decay that (following Fink and Starke) Miller sees as central to the religious history of North America.14To the degree that any region outside the United States exists

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T.M. Luhrmann, When God Talks Back: Understanding the American Evangelical Relation- ship with God (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2012).

Timothy Jenkins, “‘Religious Experience’ and the Contribution of Theology in Tanya Luhrmann’sWhen God Talks Back,”hau: Journal of Ethnographic Theory3 (2014): 369–373. Miller, American Protestantism; see also his account of the post-Wimber period in Daniel Miller, “Routinizing Charisma: The Vineyard Christian Fellowship in the Post-Wimber Era,” inChurch, Identity, and Change: Theology and Denominational Structures in Unsettled Times, ed. David A. Roozen and James R. Nieman (Grand Rapids, mi: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2005).

Roger Finke and Rodney Stark, The Churching of America, 1776–1990: Winners and Losers in Our Religious Economy(New Brunswick,nj: Rutgers University Press, 1992).

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at all for Miller, it is not as a causal factor but either as a missions field for these movements or as parallel examples of theologically conservative, experientially centered religiosity occurring in other geographical domains.

Bill Jackson’s whig history of the Vineyard, The Quest for the Radical Middle, is centered on the particularities of the Vineyard and, unlike Luhrmann and Miller, does not attempt to depict the movement as another token of a larger abstract type.15This leaves it more nuanced, even if it does use a larger western Christian history, and particularly an Anglo-American Christian history, as the background against which the figure of the Vineyard is made visible. Jackson’s account, however, is centered almost exclusively on John Wimber, so much so that it reads as much as a biography of Wimber as it does a church history.

What I am suggesting here, though, is that while Wimber certainly was pivotal, he was only a proximate cause. To understand the Vineyard, we must not only leave the United States but must also turn to another figure, although again nothing can be attributed solely to this person either.

C. Peter Wagner’s career trajectory will place him in the center of some of the more contentious moments of American pentecostal and charismatic Chris- tianity during the twentieth and twenty-first centuries; he could be viewed as either wandering Zelig-like into these moments or, alternatively, as mid- wifing them. More importantly, it was he who coined the two most common terms used for Vineyard-like movements: while “radical middle” and empow- ered Evangelicals are Vineyard-originated terms, it was Wagner who coined the phraseThirdWaveoftheSpiritand, a decade and a half later, the termNewApos- tolic Revivalas well.

Some current Vineyard members tend to view C. Peter Wagner as inclined slightly toward being a raconteur and a self-promoter. But there is reason to suspect that his own accounts of his days as an evangelical missionary to Bolivia may differ. There is a certain American charismatic speech-genre that is structured by early failure turning into later unforeseeable yet exemplary success; it is a way of marking the kind of transformative journey that is so central to charismatic sensibilities. But Wagner’s account of his early mission days exhibits something so raw and almost abject about the way he discusses his initial failings, and this, along with the exacting nature of the quantitative figures that he uses to demonstrate the degree to which success eluded him, lends plausibility to these claims rather than reducing them to a mere element in a genre form.

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Jackson,Quest.

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Consider the details. By 1965, Wagner was an important figure in Bolivian evangelical missions. He was an experienced missionary who, except for a year’s furlough spent earning a Th.M. from Princeton Theological Seminary, had been working in Bolivia since 1956. When he returned to the mission field after that one-year sabbatical, his qualifications, along with an earlier master’s degree from Fuller Seminary, eased his way toward becoming head of the Bolivian Theological Educational Association and General Director of the Bolivian Indian Mission. The same qualifications also made him the ideal Bolivian partner for a series of national pastors’ conferences funded by the Los Angeles-based World Vision International.

The World Vision money was a particular boon, since it allowed the orga- nizations that Wagner served to carry out a rather ambitious national project. The money wasfolded intoan alreadyexisting Bolivia-wideprogrambeing con- ducted by the “Evangelicalism in Depth Institute” (eid), an organization that promoted intra-evangelical cooperate projects. eid had determined that 1965 would be a year for congregations to make a push for conversions such as had not occurred before in the preceding seventy years of evangelical activity in Bolivia. The rough idea was, in one coordinated and exhaustive effort, to col- lectively spend evangelical Bolivian resources entirely toward the conversion of the nation. In recalling the year, Wagner described the tone among his fellow Bolivian evangelicals as follows: “Never has there been more excitement; never had there been more unity; never had there been more public pronounce- ment of the gospel.”16 This exhaustive coordination sometime worked to the exclusion of all else: “Some Christian Bible schools even closed for the year so the students and faculty could be active in eid. The hope? Reach Bolivia for Christ!”17

The scope of this aspiration is striking. The gap between that aspiration and its achievement, however, is significant. Consider these numbers. In 1964, the year before Wagner’s push, Brazilian evangelical Protestantism grew 15 percent. The next year, during the Wagner-led concerted effort, there was a 3-percent dropin growth. This was not a permanent drop; during 1966 it rose back up to 14 percent, only to fall back down again to 11 percent the following year.18Wagner’s own project did not “reach Bolivia for Christ,” but rather caused its hand to falter for a season. Damning as these statistics are, Wagner cannot complain about them; these numbers were Wagner’s own.

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C. Peter Wagner, Wrestling with Alligators, Prophets, and Theologians: Lessons from a Life- time in the Church: A Memoir (Ventura,ca: Regal, 2010), 64.

Ibid., 66.

Ibid.

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Wagner compiled these figures as part of a post-mortem that he put together in the early 1970s, when he was working as a professor at the Fuller School of World Missions, a newly instituted section of the larger Fuller Seminary. Wagner’s dissection of theeid“reach Bolivia for Christ” campaign not only was frank in observing how Evangelicals were fairing, but it was also forthright in identifying which group was succeeding where Wagner’s own Evangelicals had failed. And that successful group was the Pentecostals.

Wagner’s examination of pentecostal success, not just in Bolivia but in all of Latin America, was published in a 1973 monograph with the off-putting title Look Out! The Pentecostals Are Coming.19 The title, reminiscent of a Satur- day afternoon horror matinee, echoes the then-regnant American evangelical sense of otherness about Pentecostalism. The book ends up, however, with a surprising endorsement both of Latin American pentecostal success and of the tactics through which that success was achieved. Here Pentecostalism is presented not as a force with which Evangelicalism is vying but, rather, as a template that a missionary Evangelicalism should adopt. In expressing his aspirations for the book, Wagner states that “[p]rejudice has kept many non- Pentecostals from learning the valuable lessons about effective evangelicalism in Latin America that Pentecostals can teach. I pray that God will use this book to break down some of those long-standing barriers.”20

Wagner himself is quite blunt about having shared some of those prejudices when he was a missionary in Bolivia. He describes himself as being a “convinced cessationist” when he was in Bolivia, a man who would preach against a local pentecostal healing campaign held at the edges of the city because “respectable Christians met in buildings, not in vacant lots.”21Wagner also recalls telling his “people” that the pentecostal “claims of healing were false and that their true faith in God would be severely damaged if they dared to show up at one of those disreputable gatherings.”22

Regardless of his in-field prejudice, Wagner acknowledges that the growth of Pentecostalism in Latin America during the twentieth century has been one of the “success stories” for Protestant Christianity. Wagner estimates that in 1900, just one year before Agnes Ozman received the gift of tongues in Topeka, Kansas, there were only 50,000 Protestant adherents in Latin America;

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C. Peter Wagner,Look Out! The Pentecostals Are Coming(Carol Stream,il: Creation House, 1973).

Wagner, Look Out!13.

Wagner,Wrestling, 115, 117.

Ibid., 117.

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he also estimated that by the year 2000, twenty-seven years after his book was published, Latin America would be the home for 100,000,000 Protestant believers, most of which would be pentecostal.23This was a slight overshoot: at the dawn of the new millennium there were actually an estimated 64 million Latin American Protestants. This is an impressive number, but still about 36 million short of what Wagner envisioned.

The point is not that Wagner failed in his prognostication, but rather that he was so enamored of pentecostal success that the one hundred-million mark was imaginable for him, a value he extracted from the then-current tangent of pentecostal growth. Pentecostal growth was the controlling variable here because Wagner considered Pentecostalism to be, in effect, the engine of Prot- estant growth in Latin America; Wagner estimates that at the time he was writing, nearly two-thirds of all Latin American Protestants were pentecostal, and that this condition would either continue into the future or would inten- sify. For Wagner, in Latin America at least, Protestant success was, in effect, only pentecostal success.

Wagner cites numerous reasons for this pentecostal growth. He claims that a historic tendency of Pentecostals to come from lower socioeconomic stand- ing gives pentecostal missionaries an edge in recruiting the proletarian and peasant populations who make up the majority of the region’s people. He also attributes a great deal of success to pentecostal practices of immediately inte- grating believers into the church; by contrast, he presents Evangelicals and Fundamentalists as seeing their mission completed at the moment of conver- sion, an approach that runs a higher risk of these conversions simply not taking.

Wagner also suggests that a pentecostal focus on planting new churches, rather than growing already existing churches, is important. Even the increased tendency of Pentecostalism to go through church or denominational splits is identified as a positive, since this multiplies churches, and after splits both par- ties tend to grow numerically. Wagner also credits Pentecostals with a more complete mobilization of church membership in evangelizing efforts, which works not only to increase yield but also to identify and train people whose tal- ents might make them possible pastors themselves in the future; this operation is easier to carry out if spiritual baptism and on-the-street apprenticeship train- ing can do the work that normally occurs through years of seminary education. Finally, unlike other Protestant worship services, Latin American pentecostal services are presented as being “culturally relevant,” Wagner’s term for religious material crafted to secular sensibilities and aesthetics; this is a vision of worship

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Wagner, Look Out!25.

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with guitars and accordions instead of pipe organs, which, according to Wag- ner, makes pentecostal services that much more enjoyable for adherents.

The strategies that Wagner believed he identified in Latin American Pente- costalism seem to be mainly about leveraging individual attention and ener- gies, and they will also be found in the Vineyard once it comes into being. But these are all new modes of social organization that could be taken up by Evangelicals without adopting some of the core practices associated with Pen- tecostalism.

There are other suggestions by Wagner, however, that flirt with a reconfigura- tion of Evangelicalism and with an adoption of not just peripheral pentecostal modes of social organization but also with fundamental orientations toward authority and affect. We see this in Wagner’s call for a new pneumatology, for speaking in tongues, and for praying for the sick. For Wagner, pentecostal pneu- matology is as much a problem as it is an opportunity. While he acknowledges that the sort of “regeneration” seen in converts to Pentecostalism can only be understood as the work of the Holy Spirit, he believes that this engenders a ten- dency for Pentecostals to see their high levels of conversion as evidence that they “have a corner on the Holy Spirit,” that “the Holy Spirit is working only in Pentecostalism,” and that the Spirit “is not to be found in other churches.”24

This gives rise to two problems: a pentecostal triumphalism, which Wag- ner decries, and an evangelical carte blanche rejection of pentecostal claims regarding the Holy Spirit. For Wagner both positions are in error, as he holds that “Pentecostal doctrines of the Holy Spirit probably are somewhat less sig- nificant than Pentecostals like to think, and somewhat more significant than non-Pentecostals like to think.”25

Part of the difference between evangelical and pentecostal pneumatology is merely in degree of emphasis, which Wagner suggests should not be a problem for American Evangelicalism of this period; the real problem was the initial evidence doctrine, according to which tongues is the sole acceptable indication of infilling by the Holy Ghost. But noting that initial evidence is not a uniform position, he sees this doctrine as incidental to pentecostal growth and perhaps even a drag on it. Initial evidence, therefore, is one bit of Pentecostalism that Evangelicals can dispense with when they are pillaging the charismatic tool shed. Tongues are an acceptable form of ecstatic prayer, but nothing more.

For Wagner, however, the exemplary pentecostal charisma is not speaking in tongues but healing. Part of this has to with participation rates; drawing on

24 25

Ibid., 30. Ibid., 33.

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extant studies, he estimates that far more Latin American Pentecostals pray for healing than speak in tongues. Wagner sees this as in part a reaction to poverty, with Pentecostals turning toward the only medical system that many of them can afford; but he also sees healing as part of a concerted effort to grow the religion. Wagner notes an evangelical antipathy to healing, in which supernatural cures are looked down on as something less than salvation. But Wagner also notes that for Pentecostals, salvation is brought about by healing, or rather, healing is evidentially powerful, compelling those healed to convert.

This is a rather utilitarian take on pentecostal healing; in fact, Wagner’s entire analysis is relentlessly ends-related. The only break from a continual cost-benefits analysis is the occasional colourful illustrative passage featuring one Latin American pentecostal or another, and one senses that in the end these figures are there as guarantors of Wagner’s knowledge of the subject as much as they are case studies to be learned from.

This utilitarianism in Wagner’s early work is important. To understand this, it helps to know a little bit about the institution that Wagner joined after this time in Bolivia, the School of World Missions (swm, now called the School of Intercultural Studies), located at Fuller Seminary in Pasadena, California. While this article will focus on the swm, we should note that Fuller Seminary is itself a storied institution, founded by radio revivalist Charles Fuller in 1947 with the intention of restoring what was felt to be a lack of wider respect for theologically conservative Protestant scholarship. Debates in that school proved to be a catalyst for the neo-evangelical break with Fundamentalism that occurred in the post-World War ii period in the United States. Fuller was the scholarly space in which American evangelical intellectuals did the most to free themselves from both dispensation and inerrancy, the two most problematic inheritances from early twentieth-century American Fundamentalism.26

Interestingly enough, the School of World Missions itself did not begin as an organ of Fuller Seminary but was originally founded in Eugene, Oregon in 1957 as an independent entity. The institution was set up by Donald McGavran, a mainline Protestant missionary to India who was disenchanted with a per- ceived missions emphasis on social works as opposed to evangelism. Theswm was not supported by McGavran’s denomination and thus had a hardscrab- ble start: its physical plant was a just a single spare room in the corner of a library that belonged to an unaffiliated Christian College. Only in 1965 was the

26

See George Marsden, Reforming Fundamentalism: Fuller Seminary and the New Evangeli- calism(Grand Rapids,mi: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1987).

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swm adopted by Fuller as an attempt to balance the then new Fuller School of Psychology, an initiative that struck some of the School of Theology faculty members as too humanistic.

The swm’s initial autonomy is important because, as the head of an origi- nally independent institution, Donald McGavran had a high degree of freedom in determining how the school should be organized, and his choices would have far-ranging effects. One of the effects was to ensure that the school acted as a testing ground for what McGavran understood to be a new Christian sci- ence. Despite its name, McGavran saw the swm not as engaging in missiology but, rather, as a proving ground for an academic and empirical discipline that McGavran called Church Growth. Church Growth could be separated from missiology in that missiology was, in McGavran’s eyes, unsystematized and predicated on hearsay and anecdotal evidence, while Church Growth was a self-conscious integration of a positivist social science and theology, fulfilling the Great Commission in a quantitatively verifiable manner.

The vision of Church Growth was that while in one sense God is in heaven, in another sense God is also in the details, and the details were capable of being conveyed quantitatively. As a break with missiology, McGavran pioneered a technique through which growth could be numerically charted and classified: Does this growth take place through biological reproduction, conversion, or transfer from other Christian groups? Just as important for McGavran was identifying the social groups within which growth was occurring. Borrowing from structural-functionalist social anthropology, McGavran created technical means for the identification of homogenous, bounded “people groups,” as well as a metric for identifying the degrees of social distance between any two people groups.

There were two purposes for all this quantification and systematizing. The first was to allow for a crafting and testing of hypotheses regarding the causes of church growth, all of which could be articulated in a demographic language borrowed from the “harder” social sciences. The second purpose, however, regarded quantification at a different level. By charting how various churches were growing and what kind of growth they were experiencing, it would now be possible to allocate resources, both human and financial, in places where there would be the most reward for the investment. For McGavran, the parable of the sower did not mean that the proverbial seeds are to be scattered indis- criminately, but rather that some soils were better than others.

The swm, then, was originally envisioned as a place where this quantifica- tion could be championed, but also as a space in which hypotheses derived from the field could be transferred, to see how they would work out in other domains. Thus it was no accident that when he set up the school, McGavran

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originally demurred from offering degrees to merely aspirant missionaries who would come with little data and fewer ideas from the missions field; rather, he desired to educate only already practicing missionaries on furlough (for instance, three years of foreign service and fluency in a field language was an original entrance requirement for students). The purpose behind this arrange- ment was that this would help position the schools as a central hub through which church growth information would flow globally; in a sense, it was an attempt to make the very campus itself part of a recording apparatus as it not only served to distribute church growth findings, but also became a node to which field reports could be brought and pooled for testing purposes.27

One of the first problems that theswmaddressed was the difficulty posed by indigenous practices considered supernatural or magical in nature. The prob- lem was not the presence or the continuing acceptability of magic in recently converted populations, but rather the danger caused by its absence. The dif- ficulty was that conversion had taken too well. This was a particular concern for swm faculty with a background in anthropology. While they would end up going quite different ways, both Paul Hiebert and Charles Kraft were experi- enced missionaries with cultural anthropological training. Kraft reported that, when participating in missions work with the Higi in Nigeria, he was repeat- edly asked by recent converts what the practical Christian response was to evil spirits, a question for which he felt he had no adequate answer. Hiebert noted a similar phenomenon in his work in India; during a smallpox outbreak, con- verted Christians, unlike the other inhabitants of the village, had no supernat- ural method of treating themselves that harmonized with their understanding of the tenets of their faith.

Hiebert gave a name to the evangelical-caused vacuum in magic. Framing it as an inability to conceive of ways of engaging with supernatural forces that are imagined to occupy an intermediary space between the human and the fully divine, he labelled it the “flaw of the excluded middle.”28 He concluded with a suggestion that this flaw might, in some ways, be evangelical Christianity’s strength as well. The final scene in the essay is of villagers becoming not less interested in Christianity after the smallpox epidemic, but rather more open, moved by the way in which a funeral for a small child displayed both the resolve of the village Christians and their faith in the resurrection. This

27

28

See Charles Kraft, swm/sis at Forty: A Participant/Observer’s View of Our History (Pasa- dena,ca: William Carey Library, 2005).

Paul Hiebert, “The Flaw of the Excluded Middle,” Missiology: An International Review 10 (1982): 35–47.

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might have been God’s purpose, Hiebert offers, and he warns the reader against making “Christianity a new magic in which we as gods can make God do our bidding.”29

In contrast, Kraft’s solution is to adopt Wagner’s solution to the challenge posed by pentecostal growth. Kraft, in effect, was suggesting that the pente- costalization of evangelical missions would not only serve as a stop-gap against pentecostal competition, but would also enable a way of competing with non- Christian supernatural practices. Kraft was not alone. Even McGavran was becoming more interested in what could be done with Christian healing, stat- ing in a 1979 lecture that it was “unscientific” to “close one’s eyes to the fact of faith healing” and that at “suitable times” it should be introduced as way of accelerating church growth.30

In one way this is not too surprising; there are accounts of discussions at Fuller School of World Mission as far back as 1969 about the higher growth rate of Pentecostalism, which gave rise to Wagner’s Look Out.31 But there has been one subtle shift. In Wagner’s earlier account, the pentecostal capacity for engaging in supernatural feats such as healing and deliverances was only one aspect, and in some ways not the most important aspect, of the pentecostal church growth apparatus: divine healing and demonic deliverance would be more important factors because they play to the interests of the population; whether or not they were true was to some degree beside the point. In these later accounts, however, we see an interest specifically in these pentecostal- type supernatural practices, and a shift from stressing that their effectivity lies in the particular audience being addressed to stressing that they are valid because of the supernatural effects they achieve. That is, people are not going to Pentecostals because there is no other place to go for healing; rather, they are doing so because pentecostal healing works.

29 30

31

Ibid., 47.

Donald McGavran, “Divine Healing and Church Growth,” in Power Evangelism(New York: Vineyard International Ministries, 1984). This is not the John Wimber and Kevin Springer text of the same name, but rather a series of printed commentaries in a three-ring binder that was supposed to accompany the Wimber-Springer text during Vineyard training exercises.

Charles Kraft,Christianity with Power: Your Worldview and Your Experience of the Supernat- ural (Ann Arbor,mi: Vine Books, 1989), 6.

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John Wimber, a Respectable Charismatic Option

The difficulty is that attributing effectivity to the charismatic gifts is not the same thing as being able to invoke those gifts. Neither McGavran, Wagner, nor Kraft had any idea how to perform any of the charismata they now found them- selves endorsing. Learning it from American Pentecostals was not an option: again and again, in writings and during public interviews, Wagner and Kraft say that they were hampered by their perception of American Pentecostals as not just doctrinally suspect, but as just plain weird. Kathryn Kuhlman in par- ticular is mentioned, serving as a metonymic representation of all that was unsettling in pentecostal practice. This “weirdness” probably has several roots. It was most likely an expression of the self-perceived class difference between Evangelicals and Pentecostals referenced earlier; undoubtedly, part of it was also a reaction to Kuhlman’s heavily mannered public speaking style, a mode of self-presentation that ran contrary to a wider Protestant speech ethic that valued sincerity and transparency in language.32

What was needed was someone who could engage in pentecostal gifts and around whom they were not nervous. That person would be John Wimber. An affable colleague with evangelical credentials, Kathryn Kuhlman he was not. Between 1974 and 1978, Wimber was responsible for a new initiative of Wagner’s: taking the church growth techniques McGavran originally forged for the missions field and bringing them to domestic Evangelicals. Wimber was a former pastor of an Evangelical Quaker church in Yorba Linda, California, the same part of Orange County that Richard Nixon came from. Despite his Quaker background, he was a committed cessationist. By the mid-seventies, that actually put him out of step with the faculty to which he was closest in the Fuller School of World Missions; there is a story of him walking out, seemingly in some mixture of disbelief and amazement, of a meeting at Fuller when some faculty were recounting hearsay miracles.

32

On Kuhlman, see Todd V. Lewis, “Charisma and Media Evangelists: An Explication and Model of Communication Influence,” Southern Communication Journal 54 (1988): 93–111; on Protestant speech ethic, see Webb Keane,Christian Moderns: Freedom and Fetish in the Mission Encounter (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2007). This Protestant speech ethic still exerts some influence in the contemporary Vineyard, though ironically it has been supplemented by other speech ethics that have a structural, if not genealogical, kinship with that of Kuhlman; see Jon Bialecki, “No Caller idfor the Soul: Demonization, Charisms, and the Unstable Subject of Protestant Language Ideology,” Anthropological Quarterly84 (2011): 679–703.

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By the late 1970s, however, Wimber’s position had substantially changed. Overworked and in need of inspiration, Wimber started pastoring a church on the weekends, experimenting directly with the church growth techniques that had been honed outside of the United States. Much of what he employed was the more tradition social science-oriented techniques from the McGavran period. For much of the 1980s Church Growth continued to be an element not only of his church but also of future Vineyard church conferences and training for church-planters, and even to this day there is among many older Vineyard pastors an interest in the sort of business-efficiency literature fetishized by the Church Growth movement.

More than anything else, however, it was healing that fuelled the rapid growth of Wimber’s church, which in five years grew from a small home church to one that had two large services each Sunday attracting two to three thousand persons. The attendees were primarily people who either participated in, or were attempting to emulate, the Jesus People movement of the late 1960s and early 1970s.33 By the early 1980s, Kraft and Wagner started regularly making the one-hour drive south from Pasadena to Yorba Linda to see how Wimber’s church was developing.

It was about this time that Wimber, who was already teaching part of a Church Growth course at Fuller as an adjunct, offered also to teach a course on healing. Kraft and Wagner felt obliged to offer this course first to Fuller Sem- inary, since it came out of an “American church,” but the seminary declined. Deciding to offer it themselves, they listed a course in the swm catalog for the 1982 winter term called “mc510: Signs, Wonders, and Church Growth.” It was taught for three hours on Monday evenings; about seventy people were enrolled, and both Wagner and Kraft attended each session as well. Techni- cally Wagner was the actual course convener, but the de facto instructor was Wimber.

The class had two parts: first a lecture by Wimber, and afterward a practicum in which students would attempt to heal other students on stage, all while Wimber gave running commentary. The lecture half of the class left little impression. Wimber’s lecture notes are incredibly vague, and I have never spoken to anyone who took the class who had a very detailed memory of what was covered. The Fuller Library reserves list consists of books by David Yonggi Cho on growing “cell groups,” Hollenweger’s The Pentecostals, and numerous

33

In fact, around this time Lonnie Frisbee, an influential figure in the original Jesus People movement in the 1960s, had joined Wimber’s church in a leadership capacity. Frisbee the Life and Death of a Hippie Preacher,dvd, directed by David Di Sabatino (Warren River,nj: Passion River Productions, 2008).

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books by the Catholic charismatic Francis McNutt; the list even includes one of the classic cessationist texts, Warfield’sCounterfeitMiracles.34Just as notable is the presence of important Church Growth texts, such as Alan Tippett’sPeople Movements in Southern Polynesia.35

The lecture notes are another clue: they include a review of signs and won- ders in the Bible, a brief tour of the miraculous through church history, and case studies of signs and wonders from abroad. The last is interesting in how it sug- gests the connection between this course and anxieties about worldwide global and pentecostal Christianity. Along the same lines was Wimber’s discussion of the relationship between culture and a capacity to invoke the Holy Spirit. Borrowing Kraft’s term for culture, Wimber states that various “worldviews” obscure or facilitate charismata: the western worldview, characterized by “sec- ularism,” “self-reliance,” “materialism,” and “rationalism,” is an impediment to praying in the Holy Spirit, but in contrast, various non-western worldviews, including the Christian worldview, facilitate it.36

What happened in the second half of each class, however, is clearer. A sense of the instruction offered for the applied section is provided in course log reports of Wimber’s pneumatic grand rounds.37 In one case a student comes to the stage, complaining about back pain. Wimber first interviews her to try to determine all he can about the symptoms of the disease she wants healed. Next, he prays for her; we are told that Wimber held her hands and then “spoke to the pain in her back, spoke to her glands and commanded them to be well.” Wimber then explains that he first formed a personal connection with the student through the “prayer interview” and that he then “was exercising authority over the illness.” He bids the audience to take a look at the transient affective moments of the person being prayed for, the small indications that the

34

35

36

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Walter Hollenweger, The Pentecostals: The Charismatic Movement in the Churches (Min- neapolis: Augsburg, 1972); Benjamin Breckinridge Warfield, Counterfeit Miracles (New York: C. Scribner, 1918).

Alan Tippett,People Movements in Southern Polynesia: A Study in Church Growth(Chicago: Moody, 1971).

This is drawn from John Wimber’s lecture notes for the first offering of the class, archived in the John Wimber Collection, which is housed in the library at Regent University; this reading of the material is informed by John Wimber and Kevin Springer,Power Evangelism (San Francisco, ca: Harper & Row, 1986). Wimber and Springer’s course presents itself as partially based on the notes for the course, and sources who have attended the class and are also familiar with both the production and content of the book have confirmed this. These notes on class proceedings are archived in the John Wimber Collection, Regent University.

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process is advancing. “When the Holy Spirit rests upon a person,” we are told, “there are many symptoms, such as a fluttering of the eyelids, and a sheen on the face.”

This was not an isolated occurrence. The same course log lists words of knowledge received: on the first day of class, Wimber reports that one stu- dent will have her stomach flu’s symptoms temporarily abated, only to return again as “an attack of the devil.” At this point “she will have to make a decision … whether she will have healing or not.” Sometimes people demurred when there were specific words of knowledge: no one responded when there was a word of knowledge about a “yeast infection,” though a woman came forward after class the next week to report the condition being cured. Often a word of knowledge would be given, garnering no response at all (“angina” and “cystitis” and repeated words of knowledge about toothaches, for instance, went unan- swered).

Words of knowledge usually led to prayer and healing, however. One student received prayer from peers for a sore throat after Wimber gave a word of knowledge about a systematic, persistent ear, nose, and throat infection; the log reports that “while the group was still praying she said ‘I’m healed!’” and notes that she “[l]eft with a slight sore throat.” Malaria, dislocated fingers, various colds and various sprains are all listed as being healed during the run of the course; at one point a “spirit of allergies” is cast out. Even faculty were affected. Peter Wagner’s high blood pressure was healed at one point; during the prayer for Wagner’s condition, Wimber noted for the benefit of the class “Peter’s … fluttering eyelids” and his “heavy breathing.”38

The log also informs us of material that occurred after or outside of class. One student self-reported “body tingles and muscle spasms” as he fought spir- itual oppression; another log states in a matter-of-fact way that after class four students were “slain in the spirit.” We are told about other extra-class incidents, such as a lump in the side that shrank to half its size. One telegraphically con- densed report read thus: “Chinese lady with advanced cancer in lung, throat. (Bad breath stopped the next day). This lady was a backslidden Christian, and during prayer she was ‘slain in the spirit.’”

Despite the course’s formal status as a clinic, Wimber at times also seemed to present it as something that stood outside not only the formal rules of the academy but its scholastic imperative as well; one student who would go on to become a Vineyard pastor recalls being seen in the audience by Wimber. At

38

This account is confirmed both by statements made by Wagner himself (Wrestling, 130– 131) and by accounts from interviews.

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the time Wimber’s eyes caught him, the student was holding Greek flash-cards in his hand; during the raucous prayer session that shortly ensued Wimber shouted out to him (apparently in reference to the student’s earlier attempt at multi-tasking), “This is a lot better than parsing Greek verbs, isn’t it?”

The course was well received, though that does not mean that it did not evoke some criticism. The student comments turned in at the end of the first term contained the usual complaints about course mechanics (too much time wasted in outlining the course, dissatisfaction about the small size of the room, and unhappiness with the syllabus, which had numerous typos and misspelled the names of some healers). These complaints were often accompanied by lists of specific miracles that the student had performed or received. Many called for “more doing,” or for the lecture portion to be shortened to allow more time for prayer.

Primarily, however, the comments affirmed the course and the subject. There were statements such as “This course has changed my life.” One called the class the most “practical” taken at Fuller. Another student went further, predicting confidently that “this course will change the world.” The comments from other students stress the orientation to global Christianity, such as “It’s nice to see what God’s doing in the rest of the world.” Many state that they will be using these techniques when they return to the missions field; this is fitting, in view of the fact that it was the competitive ability of evangelical missions that had motived this turn to the charismatic in the first place.

Not long after the first course was completed, the American Christian media started circulating reports about it; in October of 1982 Christian Life magazine devoted a special issue to it, which was reprinted as a book in the next year, and Fuller began to receive what has been described as “overwhelming” mail and phone calls.39 Not all were positive. While many phoned to support the class, or even to inquire about the possibility of taking it, many others were alarmed by the introduction of pentecostal practices in what was then arguably America’s leading evangelical seminary. By 1985 this came to a head and the course was cancelled, with a book-length committee report documenting the decision published in 1987.40Part of the complaint was about the bureaucratic mechanics. Some claimed that Wimber as an adjunct should not have been

39

40

C. Peter Wagner, ed.,Signs and Wonders Today: New Expanded Edition with Study Questions and Applications(Altamonte Springs,fl: Creation House, 1987).

Lewis Smedes, Ministry and the Miraculous: A Case Study at Fuller Theological Seminary (Waco,tx: Word Books, 1987).

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teaching the course, which seems like an objection invented after the fact.41 The report also states that the class’s disruptive effects were a more important issue. We are told that “[f]aculty members were called to counsel students or members of their families when disillusionment followed their failure to experience the power of healing proclaimed in the classroom; a few persons were caught in a backlash of naïve attempts to discern demons.”42

The report also mentions a complaint that seems tohave been the real nub of the problem: “John Wimber—founder of the Vineyard movement and adjunct instructor along with C. Peter Wagner and Charles Kraft, our professors respon- sible for the course—came to be linked much more closely with Fuller in the minds of the public than his busy schedule of pastoral and conference ministry warranted; his audiences and readers were tempted to impute his opinions and approaches to our faculty more readily that the facts would support.”43In short, the course had made Wimber a celebrity in evangelical and charismatic circles, and Fuller was regarded as unquestioningly endorsing all that Wimber said. For an institution that saw itself as having only recently overcome fundamentalist supernaturalism for a moderate evangelical rationalism that could engage with the wider scholarly world, this was a disaster.44What was worse was that it was spilling over to other courses. I have been told about different class sessions at Fuller during this period that began with long student-led invocatory prayers against demonic forces who sought to wage spiritual warfare against the course, instructor, and students; this is not what the more classically evangelical fac- ulty wanted Fuller’s profile to be. A new version of the class was offered, this time taught by Paul Hiebert, who was never close to Wimber despite Wimber’s adoption of much of Hiebert’s language.45In Hiebert’s version of the class ces- sationist views were given equal time, and there was no applied section.

41

42 43 44 45

There were numerous letters written before the fact showing Wagner, Wimber, and Pier- son, the dean of the School of World Missions, getting advance approval for both the course and for Wimber’s participation. Before the course was taught, a letter was sent to Wimber from Wagner and cc’d to Dan Pierson, the dean of the school, in which Wimber is “formally invited” by theswmfaculty to teach the course. Another letter explains that it was to be listed as cotaught by Wagner and Wimber. Furthermore, there were letters from Pierson himself discussing Wimber’s remuneration ($990) for his part in the course, and many letters to Pierson from Wimber referring to “his” course.

Smedes, Ministry, 7.

Ibid.

Marsden, Reforming, 292–295.

During talks, but in writing as well, Wimber would often positively reference Hiebert’s workonboundedversuscenteredsetsasecclesiasticalforms.See,e.g.,JohnWimber,“Stay-

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Conclusion

But by then it was too late. Kraft and Wagner had changed, Church Growth had changed, and the Vineyard had changed too. The shift in Church Growth was in some ways the most obvious. The shift to the miraculous denatured the sureness, the positivism, and the utilitarianism that was the initial promise of McGavran’s Church Growth movement.46 Part of this has to do with a reimag- ination of who the vital actors were. The miraculous was understood to be a function not of the evangelist’s own exercise of agency, but rather of the Holy Spirit’s: all initiatives come either from God or from evil spirits. This is in oppo- sition to the old church growth model that saw initiatives as human initiatives, and the question was not whether they sprang from God, but whether they were pleasing to him to the degree that they were carrying out the Great Com- mission. This loss of a kind of agency also means a loss of sureness. Working with an “already/not-yet” logic in which the kingdom of God was supernatu- rally present but only at times and not in any predictable way means that one cannot assume that techniques will work automatically.47One cannot know in

46

47

ing Focused: Vineyard as a Centered Set,”VineyardReflections:JohnWimberLeadershipLet- ter(July 1995–February 1996); On centered and bounded set theory, see Paul Hiebert, “Sets and Structures: A Study of Church Patterns, and Reply to Respondents,” in D.J. Hesselgrave, New Horizons in World Mission: Evangelicals and the Christian Mission in the 1980s (Grand Rapids, mi: Baker, 1979). After Hiebert left Fuller for a post at Trinity, he would coedit a monograph critical of Wimber and of the Vineyard, which included a contribution that he penned himself. James Robert Coggins and Paul G. Hiebert, eds., Wonders and the Word: An Examination of Issues Raised by John Wimber and the Vineyard Movement (Winnipeg, mband Hillsboro,ks: Kindred Press, 1989).

Evidence for this can be seen by comparing the differences between the first and third edi- tions (1970 and 1990, respectively) of Donald McGavran’s Understanding Church Growth, a book that I have heard sometimes called (with tongue in cheek) “The Church Growth Bible.” The first edition favors the non-western missions field and thus contains no domes- ticexamples,anddoesnotaddressthe sortofsupernaturalphenomenathatheldWagner’s interest. The third edition, which was revised and edited by C. Peter Wagner, not only con- tains examples taken from inside the United States, but has an additional section entitled “Divine Healing and Church Growth.” Donald McGavran, Understanding Church Growth (Grand Rapids, mi: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1970); Donald McGavran, Understanding Church Growth, 3rd ed., rev. and ed. C. Peter Wagner (Grand Rapids,mi: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1990). Jon Bialecki, “Disjuncture, Continental Philosophy’s New ‘Political Paul,’ and the Question of Progressive Christianity in a Southern California Third Wave Church,”American Ethnol- ogist36 (2009): 110–123.

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advance whether a prayer request will succeed. So much for the certitude given by Church Growth’s empirically tested tenets.

But there was a shift that was in some ways more subtle than the shift from the agentive and the sure. It was a shift to what might be called the chief mode of intelligible apprehension. For the Church Growth movement, things were actual if they were numerable. This had roots in a kind of scientism that, as Matthew Engelke’s work on the history of the British and Foreign Bible Society suggests, has its own evangelical lineage.48 Just as much as it is numerical, however, it is a form of thought that lives in an abstract yet chartable space. Church Growth literature pays exquisite attention to when a bar graph as opposed to a line graph should be used and to the advantages and disadvantages of charting information on semi-logarithmic graph paper. This spatializiation of the temporal serves not only to disaggregate time, but also to make both it and the demographic data embedded in it quantum in nature, fixed in a series of snapshot-like measured amounts. Indeed, the intelligibility of numbers, by their being spatially fixed and broken into discrete instances, is in some ways the core of the Church Growth project as a mode of representation.

In contrast, I would suggest, after charismatisization the chief mode of apprehension is a qualitative one, shot through with various registers of affec- tive intensity and prone to stark discontinuities. The vision of church growth, and of religious life in general, was not an increasing line segment that mea- sured a growing congregation but a surge of power associated with the Holy Spirit and revival, indexed not just by miracles but by degrees of physical and emotional intensity as well. As such, this was a measure of success that resisted quantification, spoken about in gradations (a “powerful” church conference, someone “blessed” with gifts, a church service in which the Holy Spirit “poured out”) that resisted comparison because they were, in the end, speaking not about types but about singularities, irreproducible events comprised of unique constellations of particular peoples, places, and moments. This does not mean that quantification, or at least the deployment of numbers, disappeared, but rather that their role changed. Numbers were no longer for use through com- parison with other numbers, presented in sets, but instead were presented singularly, as a sign of the power of the associated event, or as a phantasmic (and hence supernatural) goal: a boast of planting a hundred new churches in a year, a vision of ten thousand churches that will be planted. This also meant

48

Mathew Engelke, “Number and the Imagination of Global Christianity; or, Mediation and Immediacy in the Work of Alain Badiou,”South Atlantic Quarterly109 (2010): 811–829.

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that there was a certain emphasis on the now, on what God wasdoingthrough the church in this instant, that differed from Church Growth’s more longitudi- nal sensibility, made of “homogenous, empty, time.”49

There were effects on the Vineyard as well, that could be seen as the com- plement of the effects on Church Growth. Wimber’s prayer practice, which he would later call “Power Evangelism,” was in the end a foreign object translated into the technical idiom of Church Growth and intended to be transmitted in a pedagogical setting (even if Wimber’s clinics were a teaching environment like no other to date in the academy). Because of this, I would argue, we find odd moments of an instrumentalization of charismata in Wimber; this differs from the pentecostal gifts, which were not intended for a didactic situation. This is an instrumentalization not in the sense of a human control over the phenomenon, but rather a feeling that the language of procedure and process could convey how to account for and engage in this work, be it either the actual prayer itself, or the at once supplementary yet central testimony regarding it. We see this frequently in Wimber’s presentations, ranging from the endorsement of a ten- point “Engel scale” to fix one’s exact stage in the evangelizing process to the schematic five-step, prayer-interview checklist for spiritual healing that was a Vineyard hallmark during the eighties and early nineties.

The change to note, however, is not the way in which a charismatic move- ment became schematized, or how a schematic intellectual movement became charismatic. What should be noted is that both were reactions toa crisis located not in the heart of the Third Wave, nor in California, but in the places referred to then as the Third World. Whatever else this means, it suggests that even in the late twentieth century, to speak unproblematically of a Christian metropole and a Christian periphery is a mistake, and that seemingly unconnected move- ments can have the same red thread running through them. The Third Wave and the Third World were separate geographically but in other ways quite close; but the details of the institutional paths that charismata traversed as they jumped that gap would still leave a mark on an influential part of the late twen- tieth century’s charismatic revival.

49

Walter Benjamin, “Theses on the Philosophy of History,” in Illuminations, ed. Hannah Arendt (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1968), 261.

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Aesthetics and Pathos in the Catholic-Pentecostal Encounter

April 5, 2025 by  
Filed under Featured, Missions, News

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Pentecostal Theology, Volume 26, No. 1, Spring 2004

S SP

Presidential Address

Aesthetics and Pathos in the Vision of God:

A Catholic—Pentecostal Encounter

Ralph Del Colle

Introduction

Some years ago an essay made a deep and lasting impression on me. The article was by Richard A. Baer, Jr. and was entitled “Quaker Silence, Catholic Liturgy, and Pentecostal Glossolalia—Some Functional Similar- ities.” It was published in Perspectives on the New Pentecostalism, a col- lection of papers that had been presented at the second annual meeting of this very Society in 1972. Russell Spittler was program chair and subse- quently editor of the book.

Baer’s thesis was simple and direct. He argued that the “religious prac- tices” of speaking in tongues, the silent worship of the Society of Friends, and the liturgical worship of the Catholic and Episcopal Churches bore a “fundamental functional similarity.” By freeing the worshipper in the depth of one’s spirit, these practices enable one to put the analytical mind at rest and “to respond to the immediate reality of the living God.” “[L]ife as the praise of God” is the intended fruit of such practices.

As one who had migrated from charismatic prayer back to the liturgical prayer of my upbringing his thesis made eminent sense. While I cannot speak about Quaker silence, I have come to know the silence of traditional Catholic spiritualities and can testify (something scholars can do in a Society such as ours) that the functional resemblance holds, at least with regard to the inner dispositions that charismatic prayer, liturgical prayer, and contemplative prayer all seem to evoke. The thesis, while not draw- ing any theological links among the three traditions—it was more a

© 2004 Brill Academic Publishers, Inc., Boston pp. 99–117

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phenomenology of religious practices and experience and an affirmation of the spiritual principle of “letting go” in the divine presence—also recalls an essay in which those connections were made at the level of theological traditions.

Albrecht Ritschl, in many ways the mid-nineteenth-century successor to Friedrich Schleiermacher, might have been sympathetic to Baer’s obser- vations, but not in order to commend them. In his essay “Prolegomena to the History of Pietism” he noted the similarities in the intent of reforming efforts undertaken by the medieval Franciscans, the Anabaptists of the Reformation period, and the Pietists of the seventeenth century. It is a com- plicated story, and specialists in the field can render a more critical judg- ment on the proposal than I can. But if he is correct, one has to take seriously the link between world-renouncing piety with its primitivist and reformist impulses and the pursuit of Christian perfection common to all three traditions. For Ritschl the configuration of Christian life that emerges was inimical to that advanced by the magisterial Reformers, the position he upheld. If it is fair to say that Pentecostals are latter-day descendents of this pietistic impulse, at least in regard to the pursuit of Christian perfec- tion, then we have a theological account of the Christian life that links Catholics and Pentecostals. This complements Baer’s observations about the functional similarities that are enacted in worship.

I suspect that none of this is really news to anybody. The option to situ- ate the experiential dimensions of Christian life and the theologies of grace that support that enterprise tend to build bridges from the Wesleyan and Pentecostal camps to the Catholic side of the Western Church, or even to the Eastern Church (as you have heard in David Bundy’s Presidential address), rather than to either the Lutheran or the Reformed traditions. Although, if we dissect all the theological streams that influenced the English Reformation we need to be careful about any simplistic trajectories leading to the Wesleyan and Pentecostal streams of the Christian Church.

Nevertheless, one example of this “catholicizing trend” with some doctrinal substance is rather significant. One has only to recall Frank Macchia’s Presidential Address in 2000 entitled “Justification and the Spirit: A Pentecostal Reflection on the Doctrine by which the Church Stands or Falls.” Although Macchia was not uncritical of the Council of Trent’s Decree on Justification, he did note that Pentecostals have more in common with its transformational understanding of justification than the forensic model confessed by the magisterial Reformation traditions. The key Pentecostal innovation is, in Macchia’s phrase, “that sanctification is

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the means by which the Spirit achieves justification in Christ,” which to my Catholic ears sounds like another way of saying that the grace of justification is indeed sanctifying grace.

In any case, both the proponents of this similarity (not identity!) in the understanding and praxis of grace in the Christian life—one need only recall Albert Outler’s reading of Wesley—and those who, while identify- ing the connection, resist the prescription confirm that we are on solid ground here. Regarding the latter, Karl Barth could be invoked as much as Albrecht Ritschl, although Barth might just lump the liberal Ritschl (no doubt to his dismay) with the Catholics, Anabaptists, and Pietists. The issue, of course, is the extent to which one wants to situate the reality of Christ’s grace in relation to experience, something that in its anthropolog- ical rendering detracts, in Barth’s judgment, from the primacy of God’s word in the matter.

Thus far, what I am suggesting is the following. Baer’s prescient obser- vation about liturgical worship and charismatic worship directs us to an incipient theological connection between the Catholic and Pentecostal tra- ditions. Beyond their “functional similarities” that bear on Jesus’ anticipa- tion of worship in spirit and truth (John 4:23), we can appeal to the shape of Christian life engendered by a theology of grace in which an experimen- tal form of piety is critical. The remainder of my remarks in this address will build on these observations and explore the relationship between the posture of faith and the doctrine of God implied by these respective pos- tures in Catholicism and Pentecostalism. I will then explore the encounter between these two traditions for the mutual contribution they make to Christian proclamation in this third millennium of the Church’s mission.

The Catholic Posture of Faith: Aesthetics and Transformation

Prelude

In good scholastic fashion faith may be considered in both its objective and subjective dimensions. Fides quae creditur refers to the content of faith, the faith that is believed, and fides qua creditur is the act of faith, the faith by which one believes. It may indeed be the case that the preference of the present culture is toward the latter, the personal existential act of faith. This is not limited to Christianity. The commonplace distinction between religion and spirituality is usually made in favor of the latter, thereby allowing any number of people to describe themselves as spiritual

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but not religious. This holds both for those who are affiliated with a reli- gious community and the latter-day transcendentalists, who, in the spirit of Henry David Thoreau, commune with the divine or nature via the individ- uality of their own participation in the harmony of the cosmos. All of this is very American and now perhaps endemic throughout the postmodern West, with the United States clinging more than most to an explicit religio- sity. It is no understatement to suggest that the fides qua is determinative of the fides quae even in the Christian community, if one were to do a sur- vey about the relevance of doctrine for the living and practice of the faith.

I review this to set the context. My intent is not to evoke nostalgia for some more self-consciously religious period in human history. Seculari- zation has indeed had its effects, and while it has not eliminated human religious and spiritual longing, it has opened the door to a radically plural- ist intentionality of religious aspirations and practices. This is not simply a matter of a more widespread global consciousness—I suppose most Americans know where Iraq and Afghanistan are these days—but it also emerges from within the fractures and fragmentations of Western culture itself, even aside from new immigration patterns.

Catholics, constitutionally speaking, cannot ignore the cultural context. We tend to operate analogically rather than dialectically in our theological methods. “Both-and” is our preference to “either-or,” to put it somewhat crudely. Thus our formulae include faith and reason, nature and grace, and, following the same logic, Church and culture. Not that modernity has been an easy ride for the Catholic Church. Witness its divestment, usually forced, of its cultural and socio-political privileges in Europe in the wake of the French Revolution. This has not been without its benefits ecclesio- logically speaking—a new model of Church has emerged—and in the civil realm has brought relief to many Protestants in Catholic majority coun- tries, not the least of which include Pentecostals in Latin America, for instance, a situation still in process.

I need not continue. The Catholic Church has traveled some distance from the cultural pessimism of Pope Pius IX in the nineteenth century to the optimism of Pope John XXIII at the Second Vatican Council and its Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World, Gaudium et Spes. But it is not that story I want to tell, although I think it is far more complicated than many presentations by contemporary Catholics might suggest. Rather, it is the theological implications of this passage through modernity that are intriguing with this in mind: Catholics must account for culture.

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Aesthetics as the Modality for the Catholic Posture of Faith

As you might have guessed from the title of this address, I am charac- terizing the Catholic and Pentecostal postures of faith under the rubrics of aesthetics and pathos respectively. On the Catholic side it will be no secret that the influence that most informs my reflections is that of the great twentieth-century Swiss theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar. Let me begin with a proposition.

In the posture of faith, it is impossible from a Catholic perspective to separate the fides qua from the fides quae. Actually I think that is true for all Christians, Pentecostals included, although I should let folks speak for themselves. This does not, however, make it any easier to explicate the matter theologically. My previous reference to the cultural context was intended to highlight the complications attending any assertion of the proposition. For example, one approach in Catholic apologetics is to argue that the truth of Catholic faith is evident in its beauty. Such an aesthetical approach highlights the beauty of its liturgy, religious art, the seamlessness of its dogmatic edifice and philosophical traditions, and the lives of its saints. Actually it is very appealing, perhaps more in the past than in the present. But nostalgic appeals to a previous era, the high Middle Ages or the Church Fathers, for instance, is not what I mean by the aesthetic modality of the faith, even considering the importance of tradition and continuity for Catholic sensibilities.

The aesthetical characterization of Catholic faith has more to do with the configuration of the divine-human relation in terms of beauty, or, more accurately, glory. In other words, the glory of God is manifested or medi- ated through the form of the faith both in regard to its subjectivity, the fides qua, and its objectivity, the fides quae. The light and experience of faith on the one hand, and the structure and dynamic of revelation on the other, constitute the aesthetic modality of faith in the Catholic tradition. Or, to put it another way, contemplation and sacramentality, to use just two examples of Catholic religious praxis, are the two poles by which the divine presence is known and apprehended by Catholics.

First, a word about form, since it may seem odd to Pentecostal ears to hear that faith, even in its subjective modality, is a matter of form. Form implies mediation, and Pentecostals—at least this is my impression—tend to emphasize immediacy in the divine-human relation. From the Cath- olic perspective, form as a modality of mediation does not detract from the reality of God’s presence in one’s life, or from those immediate

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inspirations that may be classified as actual graces, or, as in Ignatian spir- ituality, consolations without previous cause—that is, when God “enter[s] into the soul…to act upon it…without any previous perception or knowledge of any object from which such consolation might come to the soul through its own acts of intellect and will.”

Form, therefore, embraces rather than excludes mystery. Mystery, defined as the salvific presence and agency of God in the gospel, and mys- tery as the human reception of that divine action and presence, is revela- tory of that which exceeds its manifestation in the form. Let me repeat the point: mystery is present in the form, it is mediated by form, and simulta- neously is greater than the form. As we say in the Ignatian tradition in spir- ituality—the one that shapes my own spiritual life—God is the magis, the always more. This holds for God and for the human participants in the mystery of salvation. Neither God nor the workings of grace lie outside of form. The reality of mystery including its excess resides in the form, not behind or beyond it. So there is not a God beyond the mystery of the Holy Trinity, nor is the presence of grace in a person’s life something less than the mystery of God’s self-communication to the believer. This is all the more the case when we consider that the fides quae and the fides qua can- not be separated, although we may distinguish them.

Perhaps this may become clearer by analyzing the following prayer, the Preface for Mass on the Solemnity of Christmas as found in the Roman Missal:

In the wonder of the Incarnation Your eternal Word has brought to the eyes of faith a new and radiant vision of your glory. In him we see our God made visible and so are caught up in the love of the God we cannot see.

Here we have what von Balthasar calls the objective and subjective evi- dences of faith, namely, the Incarnation and the eyes of faith. Note the dominance of the aesthetic motif and its requirement of form. The revela- tion of the Incarnation imparts “a new and radiant vision of your glory.” The “eyes of faith”—a visual metaphor quite at home in the Catholic tradition—leads to the rapture of “being caught up in love of the God we cannot see.” The radiance of the divine glory in Christ, “our God made vis- ible,” generates faith which itself is a participation in that very glory.

The mediating role of form is essential to both revelation and faith. The movement to the God we cannot see is only possible because of the visi- bility of God’s glory in Christ whom we can see. Christ is not left behind as some temporary point of transition into the unseen God. Glory, a good

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biblical concept, is precisely the splendor of God made visible, in this case made visible in the humanity of Christ, the culmination of Israel’s salvation history. A dynamic of praise is the only proper response to the glory irradiating from Christ. The doxology with which the prayer of the eucharistic canon concludes culminates in a movement through Christ, with Christ, and in Christ, in the unity of the Holy Spirit to the honor and glory of God the Father. Therefore, the principle of sacramentality, that is, the divine presence signified and efficaciously active in a creaturely medium, corresponds to the aesthetical gaze that is worship with its trans- formational implications. Paul knew this well: “All of us, gazing with unveiled face on the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, as from the Lord who is Spirit” (2 Cor. 3:18).

Likewise, if we cannot dispense with the sacramental mediation of divine glory in Christ, the God-man whose glorified humanity is never dis- pensable, then we cannot ignore the participatory dimensions of the act of faith as well. The form of faith as the fides qua embraces the sensory aspects of human agency, what the classical traditions in spirituality called the “spiritual senses.” The passive and active modalities of the experience of faith presuppose the ontological enablement of the human agent through the grace that both heals and elevates, the gratia sanans and the gratia ele- vans. Faith is enacted via the attunement of the whole person, corporeally and spiritually, to the divine presence discerned, as it were, in the very actions of the one who believes. This primordial Christian experience, an attunement to God in faith, hope, and love, is the basis for all infused graces, whether mystical or charismatic in nature. It is this ontological ele- vation of the human person, a transformative dynamic at the level of habit, that the Catholic doctrine of created grace is intended to convey. Super- natural in modality it suffuses and is known through the human acts that it engenders. The form of the act of faith is the very disposition of the person who is a new creation. He or she is called to radiate the beauty of holiness, the effulgence of the divine glory in Christ that constitutes, permeates, and shines forth from the communion of saints.

In order to appreciate this dynamism of grace I need to turn briefly to the notion of experience and its place in the traditional Catholic theology of grace. It is by no means a foregone conclusion in Catholic theology that experience has any proper place in the theology of grace. At least, it does not occupy the place that the doctrine of assurance does in some Protestant evangelical traditions, especially when this is understood as the means by which the presence of saving grace in one’s life may be verified. The

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struggles of John Wesley, for instance, over whether he was a Christian possessing saving faith seems odd to Catholic sensibilities. In the classical spiritual tradition, one would be cautioned about such enthusiastic excesses, for it was believed that the reliance on experience for the assur- ance that grace was indeed at work distorted both the truth about the oper- ations of God’s grace and the validity of experiences one might have received from the Lord.

The caution about experience was not without dogmatic foundation. The Decree on Justification of the Council of Trent, in Chapter IX entitled “Against the Vain Confidence of Heretics,” concludes: “no one can know with the certainty of faith, which cannot be subject to error, that he has obtained the grace of God.” Following this a strong strain in neo- Scholastic theology, in order to emphasize the supernatural dimension of grace, argued that grace was inaccessible to the realm of human con- sciousness. On the other hand and at the same time, other traditions, espe- cially in spiritual theology, affirmed the vast array of spiritual experiences one could have, including infused mystical graces, the experiential horizon of many a saint. The tradition of discernment of spirits in the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola is a good example of this.

The key in all this is Catholic caution about the absolute claim of cer- tainty in knowing that one has grace. Thomas Aquinas distinguished between such certainty and the knowledge one may have by conjecture. For example, although not with absolute certainty, one could interpret one’s experience such as delighting in God and despising worldly things, and conclude to the presence of grace in one’s life. Or, as St. Joan of Arc, with rather heroic faith when asked during her trial if she was in God’s grace, replied: “If I am not, may it please God to put me in it; if I am, may it please God to keep me there.” This is quoted in the Catechism of the Catholic Church (# 2005) in a paragraph that begins with the statement,

Since it belongs to the supernatural order, grace escapes our experience, and cannot be known except by faith. We cannot therefore rely on our feelings or our works to conclude that we are justified and saved.

This sets the context for the aesthetical model of the posture of faith derived from the work of Hans Urs von Balthasar. His definition of the “experience of faith,” a concept he rehabilitates with great effort, never- theless also reflects these deep-seated Catholic sensibilities. Thus he can say that the experience of faith is “the experiencing of something that is essentially hidden and which is present only through mediation.”

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Therefore, he prefers to speak of “dogmatic experience” rather than psy- chological experience, those that are “‘objective’ experiences in Christ and in the Church,” for it is in them that the form of God is known. This ensures that the experience of faith is indeed a self-surrender to God and is pneumatologically based. “The Holy Spirit,” says von Balthasar with a rather Germanic cadence, “is, in identity, both the Spirit of God’s objective revelation in Christ and of the objectivation of the existential Christ-form in the form of the Church—her offices, charisms, and sacraments—and the Spirit of Christian subjectivity as faith, hope, and love.”

The Catholic posture of faith, and I think von Balthasar is right on this, consists in beholding the divine beauty present as glory “in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations” (Eph. 3:21). In this case beauty “is” sim- ply in the eye of the beholder if that beholder is the God-man himself and ours through the participation of grace. Thus we may conclude this section by appropriating the interrelationship between the fides qua and the fides quae, but now in the sense offered by von Balthasar: “. . . the fides quae of the Christian is the fides qua of Christ as he faces the Father, and even the Christian’s fides qua lives from the radiance of this light of Christ, which we can characterize as the Christian’s archetypal fides and which shapes the totality of his form by making the whole man into an adequate answer to God’s Word.”

The Pentecostal Posture of Faith: Pathos and Transformation

Amid the challenges posed to orthodoxy by liberationist-inspired or- thropraxy in the last four decades, orthopathy has emerged as a distinctive Wesleyan and now also Pentecostal contribution to Christian theological method. The “right passion” of the religious affections has restored John Wesley in particular to his rightful place among the great theologians of the Christian Church. Gregory Clapper, Henry Knight, Richard Steel, Theodore Runyon, Steven Land, and Samuel Solivan are among those who have employed this approach. For the purposes of this address I will uti- lize their insights to analyze the Pentecostal posture of faith and then return to its implications relative to the doctrine of God.

It is important to note that the utilization of this concept is of Wesleyan provenance and has been picked up by Pentecostals, especially those in the Wesleyan-Holiness tradition, but not exclusively. I mention this because its employment in a Wesleyan context might be different than in a Pente- costal one. These concern three major aspects of orthopathy, which I will

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pose as questions for further Pentecostal theological inquiry.

The first revolves around the influence of Wesley for Pentecostals. While this need not be confined to the Wesleyan-Holiness stream of Pentecostalism, his influence there is certainly greater. Further, does a Wesleyan account of the religious affections also apply to Spirit baptism and glossolalia, the Pentecostal distinctive, as it does to the rest of the affections in the Christian life? In other words, does the emphasis upon the reception, experience, and use of charismata change the configuration of religious affections when compared to the experience of grace that sanctifies? There is also the issue of progeny. Wesleyan theology owes more to Wesley than Pentecostal theology, and there is no comparative figure of similar theological weight in Pentecostal origins such as Wesley occupies in Methodist and Holiness origins.

The second concern focuses on the ecclesial context within which one affirms the centrality of the religious affections and how they may be parsed relative to both discernment and the practice of Christian life. Henry Knight’s excellent book, The Presence of God in the Christian Life: John Wesley and the Means of Grace, identifies the issue in its subtitle. To understand clearly Wesley’s “religion of the heart” he must be situated within his own historical context in the Church of England. The battles against Formalism and Enthusiasm, against Antinomianism and Perfec- tionism, as Knight’s chapters unfold it, were specific to his context. I do not doubt that analogies to that context may appear as types throughout Church history, and therefore Wesley’s distinctions may function as sys- tematic guides and rules, a regulative grammar for theology as a whole. As I have said, it is now time for Wesley to assume his place among the Church’s theologians. But it does raise questions about the relationship between the religious affections and “the traditional means of grace.” It seems to me that Wesley’s very nuanced account of the religious affec- tions, as Knight explicates it, is profoundly informed by his Anglican con- text in which such means were in practice. Is there the same intentionality about these “traditional means of grace,” especially the sacraments, in Pentecostal churches or even in Wesleyan-Holiness churches as there was for Wesley in his own Anglican context? Does this affect one’s account of the religious affections and their emergent formative role in theology? You understand how Catholics would be particularly interested in this question!

A third question concerns the definition and configuration of the reli- gious affections. This is the most important and the one on which I will

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concentrate. Steven Land, in his book, Pentecostal Spirituality: A Passion for the Kingdom, describes “Christian affections” as “objective, relational and dispositional.” The summary is consistent with the work of the Wesleyan scholars he mines, and highlights the depth and complexity of the religious affections. As objective, God is “the source and telos of the affections.” This corresponds with the fides quae, von Balthasar’s objec- tive evidence in the aesthetical apprehension of God.

There is much to discuss regarding the medium of the fides quae. For example, how does doctrine or dogma mediate the truth and content of the faith? For Land, the emphasis is on oral-narrative formation in which “God’s righteousness, love and power…evoke, limit and direct the affec- tions of the believer.” While this may not include creedal profession, the proclamation of the gospel, indeed of the “full gospel,” is enacted through Pentecostal rituals of praise, preaching, testimony, and prayer. In this dynamic there is certainly present an announcement and discernment of the truth of the gospel. For a full list of such rituals see Daniel Albrecht’s, Rites in the Spirit: A Ritual Approach to Pentecostal/Charismatic Spirituality—(Macro)Rituals in Appendix A, and Liturgical Rites, Foundational and Microrites in Appendix B. (The one I particularly like is the “sacred expletive,” to be distinguished from “sacred explicatives”).

The Christian affections are also relational; in “faith, obedience and love” they “shape and express” one’s “relationship with God, the church and the world.” They embrace the moment-by-moment existential relation that the believer has with the Lord and that is in fact dependent upon Christ’s “initiating, sustaining and directing” action. Again, here I would draw a parallel with the fides qua of von Balthasar’s subjective evidence for the experience of faith.

Finally, the Christian affections are dispositional. Dispositions are to be distinguished from feelings and moods. Therefore, they are not “passing feelings or sensate episodes.” Rather, they characterize a person, and in disposing one to God and neighbor, they seem to corroborate with the notion of the effects of habitual grace in the Catholic tradition. Perhaps we can characterize the dispositional dimension of Christian affections as grounded in the ontological transformation that grace works in the believer, the new creation effected by the indwelling Holy Spirit.

All of the above is consistent with the Wesleyan scholarship I men- tioned and is dependent upon it. A major characteristic of all this work is to underscore what I call the depth dimension of the religious affections.

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The intention of orthopathy is not a revival of emotionalism but the embrace of the biblical notion of the heart as essential to transformation in the Christian life. Its Pentecostal adaptation suggests that the intense affec- tivity that characterized the emergence of Pentecostalism had much to do with a combination of charismatic manifestations and apocalyptic longing. Land even speaks of the “the Apocalyptic Affections” as the overarching category for Pentecostal effusion and experience. Gratitude in praise and thanksgiving, compassion in love and longing, and courage in confidence and hope are proposed as the template by which we can schematize Pentecostal affections. However, another issue arises—in addition to the one I raised about the means of grace—in this adaptation of orthopathy from the Wesleyan to the Pentecostal tradition.

Knight devotes a short section of his investigation to the “relation of immediate and mediated presence.” Again, the analysis and explication of Wesley’s position is informed by how Wesley responded to his critics, in this case, Anglican and Moravian. Suffice it to say that God can be imme- diately present contra some Anglican denials. In fact, Wesley sounds like Ignatius Loyola when he affirms that in private prayer, for instance, God may pour forth his love into one’s heart and thereby be acting immediately on the soul. At the same time, contra the Moravians, God often employs outward elements of religion, such as the means of grace, to relate one to God in an inward manner. In other words, God may become immediately present through the means of grace.

In addition to the issue of whether for Pentecostals the “outward” means of grace are a means to “inward religion,” the theology one assumes on the nature-grace relation is also raised. As I hinted at before, in the Pentecostal arena this has not only to do with the modality of “sanctifying grace,” for example, but also with the nature of the charismata or spiritual gifts. The expectations of the supernatural that inform Pentecostal affec- tions weigh in the direction of immediacy. When translated into Pente- costal practice this may very well mean that the perceived immediacy of divine presence trumps mediated modalities with consequences all across the theological spectrum from spirituality to ecclesiology. Let me briefly pursue these by comparison with the Catholic perspective.

Aesthetics and Pathos: Complementary Postures of Faith?

I have used these two heuristic models, aesthetics and pathos, to char- acterize the Catholic and Pentecostal postures of faith. In the process I

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have raised the question of the modality of divine presence in the two tra- ditions, immediate and mediate, along with their respective theologies of grace, especially in regard to nature and supernature. And just to state the obvious, these are more Catholic queries than they are Pentecostal.

By posing the question of complementarity I am not suggesting incom- patibility at all! It is not a question of right vision versus right affections. As we have seen, both models interrelate the fides qua with the fides quae, the subjective and objective dimensions of faith. So we cannot posit the aesthetic model as having to do only with what is seen, but with “seeing” as well. Likewise, pathos is not limited to the heart of the believer but also applies to the heart of God—the angle largely pursued by Samuel Solivan in, The Spirit, Pathos and Liberation: Toward an Hispanic Pentecostal Theology. My hope, then, is to explore how these two Christian traditions (the oldest and the youngest!) might each illuminate the other.

One area of conversation is certainly ecclesiology, especially the rela- tionship between the sacramental and the charismatic. But that would take us far afield and require attention to a number of issues that have not been broached in this address. Let me concentrate, then, on the question of authenticity and faith. I mean authenticity in the existential sense, the real- ity and truth of faith.

In a postmodern context in which a variety of worldviews, including religious ones, contend with each other, it is imperative that the Church contends for the faith; and this begins primarily in the house of God. It does not stop there. In fact, there can be no authentic faith without mission. But we cannot fool ourselves that the faith will be heard in proclamation without its truth registering in the lives of those who profess it, those who confess Jesus Christ in the Church and in witness to the world. In this regard Catholics have much to learn from Pentecostals and maybe, at least in the lives of the saints (I am mindful of the scandal that has rocked my church in the last two years!), Pentecostals can learn from Catholics.

Authenticity primarily has to do with the encounter with God. A recent document from the Roman Curia entitled Jesus Christ the Bearer of the Water of Life: A Christian Reflection on the “New Age” attempts to iden- tify how the spiritual hunger present in our culture is being satisfied with a narcissistic spirituality that focuses on the innate human potential for self-fulfillment. In no way naïve about the diffusion of New Age spirit- uality even by groups within the Church, the document mandates solid theological appraisals and strict spiritual discernment of these tendencies. The main counter to this phenomenon is promotion of authentic Christian

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spirituality, the core of which is a relationship to the God who is transcen- dent to creation and yet redeems it in love.

In order to ensure this prospect it is necessary that the whole person be engaged in the divine-human encounter. Christian faith has never just been a matter of intellectual assent, although that indeed is a dimension of con- version. The way to the truth of the gospel must also embrace the neces- sary interconnection between the objective and subjective dimensions of faith. In both of our traditions the integrity of faith is dependent upon self- surrender to the self-revealing Other known publicly, not esoterically, in the gospel. “Right seeing” and “right affections” bespeak the ongoing transformational process by which believers are conformed to Jesus Christ. The encounter with the living God of the gospel reaches to the depths of the person by virtue of the presence and agency of the One who is revealed. It is to the truth of the latter that we now turn.

The Vision of God in Glory and Power

The vision of God, the visio beatifica or beatific vision, is the most direct and simple understanding of eschatological fulfillment. It is the highest good, the summum bonum, of the creature, this seeing of God face- to-face. An intuitive, immediate seeing of God in the divine essence is what constitutes the beatific vision and embraces acts of knowledge, love, and joy with knowledge or love being more foundational depending on whether one is a Thomist or Scotist. The just soul requires the lumen gloriae, or light of glory, in order to see God. It is beyond the natural capacity of the intellect to see God; therefore the light of glory supernatu- rally elevates the just soul to see God without any creaturely mediation. In this sense the heavenly vision is a case of pure immediacy. Until then we see in a glass darkly, until we shall know fully as we are fully known (1 Cor. 13:12) when we shall see him as he is (1 John 3:2) with the requi- site transformation that this entails—we shall be like him. God may act on the soul directly or immediately in our wayfaring state, but this is only anticipation of what is to come in the state of glory.

One further aspect of this scholastic compendium has to do with the interrelationship among the various forms of cognition. The light of glory corresponds to the light of faith, the lumen fidei, in the present state of grace, which itself perfects the light of reason, the lumen rationis, in the state of nature. So, by the light of reason we know the created order; by the light of faith we know—in the biblical sense of that word—the truths of

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divine revelation; and by the light of glory we will know God in the divine essence in heaven.

The supernatural dimension of the divine economy is evident in both grace and glory. The pilgrim state wherein we walk by faith and not by sight (2 Cor. 5:7) is the fruit of sanctifying grace. The heavenly state is likewise the fruit of glory, the eschatological consummation of grace that presently justifies and sanctifies. The light of glory strengthens the intellect to see God and in the words of Thomas Aquinas “is to be described not as medium in which God is seen but as a medium by which God is seen; and as such does not take away the immediate vision of God.”

Why bother with these theological nuances? If the mutual contribution of our two traditions is to mark the authenticity of the encounter with God as a witness to the truth of the gospel, then we need to take care that the human and divine acts that constitute the encounter are preserved in their full integrity. On the human side this translates into the fully supernatural and the fully human dimensions of that encounter. Grace and grace alone enables the life of faith and the life of glory. Simultaneously, it is the inter- nalization of such grace, the truly sanctified and anointed life that reveals the triumph of grace. Did not Paul say that he did not receive the grace of God in vain but worked harder than the rest of the apostles and not him but the grace of God that was with him (1 Cor. 15:10)? It is this marvel of grace that our two traditions, at their best, bear witness to: I no longer live, but Christ lives in me, yet the life I now live I live by faith (Gal. 2:20). It is this combination of divine and human agency—Christ lives and I live— that is at the heart of the matter.

Translate, if you will, what I have been articulating in Catholic scholas- tic terminology into a Pentecostal genre. First, recall the Catholic expres- sion. One sees God in heaven by the light of glory, an illumination of the created intellect by which the essence of God is known—thoroughly supernatural and yet by God’s gift intrinsic to our glorified cognition. By that I mean that the light of glory, to quote from one scholastic source, is “a supernatural operative habit bestowed upon reason.” Additionally, the life of faith is the beginning of the supernatural process that leads to such consummation.

How does this sound in Pentecostal language? Perhaps something like this? When the Holy Spirit is poured out the divine affections begin to seize us. Now that’s just the beginning! In fact, we have already been moved from within when we began to long and tarry for the coming of the Holy Spirit. To long and to tarry, to groan and to wait upon the Lord!

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Already there is a transformational process that is taking place. For it is in the pathos of God to bestow the Holy Spirit, and now, as we pray and tarry for the promise, it begins to emerge as our own pathos. This too is a gift! The divine affections that want so much to give the gift of the Holy Spirit, in desire so far beyond what human beings in their noble and generous parental affections are capable of—if a child asked for a piece of bread what father among you . . .?! (Luke 11:11-13)—these divine affections are now being matched by grace working within our human affectivity, so closely tied to desire and volition, that we pray, tarry, and receive the gift when it comes. And again, this is only the beginning!

The Spirit is bestowed in power, and what happens? People go forth as the Spirit leads and anoints. Sensitivity to the things of God, both those that make for holiness and those that make for convincing witness, is increased! The grace and power of God so works within that one apostle can say to those to whom he is sent: “For God is my witness, how I long for you with the affection of Christ Jesus” (Phil. 1:8). Is that not transfor- mation? Is that not the pathos of God becoming the pathos of his children? “Be ye perfect as your Heavenly Father is perfect” (Matt. 5:48)! “Be mer- ciful just as your Father is merciful (Luke 6:36). And, by the way, from where does Pentecostal praise and adoration arise? Is it not from the mys- terium pietatas, the mystery of piety, at work when, in the synergy (to use an Eastern Christian concept) of divine and human affections, we are led by our high priest, the God-man, our Lord Jesus Christ in praise and worship?

What does all this suggest about the doctrine of God? Since in good Thomistic fashion—the exitus and reditus of all things coming from and returning to God—God is the beginning, the middle, and the end. Actually, Paul said it first: “For from him and through him and for him are all things. To him be glory forever. Amen” (Rom. 11:36). To the human participant the commanding invitation then is clear: “Be holy for I am holy” (Lev. 11:44; 1 Pet. 1:15-16). It sounds as if what we say about God has some- thing to do with the language of being!

Truth be told, not a lot has been written on the Pentecostal doctrine of God. The theologians of this Society are just catching up with the exegetes and historians. I have mentioned Sam Solivan’s utilization of orthopathy. He envisions it as the third leg of a “Liberating Triad” along with ortho- doxy and orthopraxis, oriented especially to “suffering as multi-dimen- sional experience [that] incorporates all our being, including the spiritual sphere.” In the realm of the metaphysics of divine being more specifically,

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Clark Pinnock has argued that a Pentecostal contribution would accentuate the emphasis on divine relationality. Pentecostals, he says, should forswear the absolutist model of divine being because they are “relational theists.” Terry Cross, in the same issue of the Journal of Pentecostal Theology in which this proposal was floated, responded mostly in the affirmative, with the caveat that the perfection and relationality of God ought to be consid- ered in dialectical tension. He did, however, suggest that Pentecostals could not avoid “some kind of philosophical categorization to organize our theological concepts.” Pentecostal theologians and philosophers need to continue this theological inquiry.

I will conclude with some Catholic reflections on the matter in dialogue with Pentecostal concerns. In good Catholic fashion it is my judgment that one cannot afford to evacuate metaphysics from language about God or thinking about God. Clearly that is a loaded statement, and to avoid any further digression I will not unpack it. For those interested, and whose aca- demic fare includes the “sacred explicative,” I will confess that I am mov- ing in a post-Heideggerian Thomistic direction. What that means is simply that the postures of faith that I have discussed imply that presence, or, bet- ter yet, “presencing” is at the core of a metaphysical universe, to borrow a phrase from the late Dominican theologian William J. Hill. The presencing of being seems to me the most cogent account of subjectivity, intersubjec- tivity, and the convertibility of the transcendentals: being, truth, goodness, and beauty. That is the Heideggerian side. The Thomistic emphasis is evi- dent in my continued judgment that the best way to metaphysically describe the being of God relative to creation, and which I think preserves creation as creaturely vis-à-vis God, is the notion of actus purus, God as pure act. All that God is in the divine being itself and in relation to creation is best accounted for as movement from actuality to actuality, not from potentiality to actuality or vice-versa. In other words, movement in God, for example, the intra-divine processions that constitute the persons of the Trinity, and movement from God into the created order—for example, the temporal missions of the Son and Spirit in the divine economy—are move- ments of presencing as pure actuality. Dialoguing with Pentecostals con- vinces me of this even more.

If Pinnock, with Cross’s necessary coda, is correct about relational theism, then the epistemic moment in faith is derived from the presencing of divine agency and power in the motions of grace and in the distribu- tion and operation of spiritual gifts. Pentecostals are acutely aware of God’s presence in their lives, a presence that is both personal, in a sort of

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dialogical and personalist I—Thou Buberian sense, and energetic—in the modality of power. The divine energies, to use an Orthodox concept, or the operative dynamism of the Spirit’s gifting, characterize the Pentecostal/ Charismatic experience. It is through this modality of divine agency that God’s personal nature is known. The manifestation of power is not inimi- cal to personal apprehension of God; rather it seems to confirm it. God cares for me because God has liberated me through the manifest and effi- cacious presence of God’s power.

All of this also has to do with presencing; God’s coming to presence via manifestations of the Spirit, and our coming to presence through the praxis of praise and ministry in the Spirit. No surprise, then, that there has always been an intimate connection among Pentecostals between the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, the Spirit coming to presence, and eschatological long- ing, the Lord Jesus coming to presence in the parousia, which also entails our glorification with him. The Thomistic twist on these Pentecostal sensi- bilities is necessitated by the following observations.

I return to the context with which I began this address. Our world is plagued by a combination of secular and spiritual forces that have lost their way. Secular forces have settled into a material contestation of identity and power. This misses the mark (another word for sin!) of true diversity in unity by coercive forces that fracture and fragment the human project, both from within communities and from without spiritual forces in all their pluralism seem to refract back into the human condition an infra-cosmic redundancy of escapist aspirations, narcissistic self-fulfillment, or the enlistment of spiritual energy in support of the material contestation of sec- ular forces. In the face of this, what might the churches offer? If “heaven below” is an apt metaphor for the Pentecostal Movement, and let me sug- gest “open heaven” as a metaphor for the Catholic vision, then we need to ensure that the presencing in which we participate is indeed from above.

The Thomistic insistence that God’s coming to presence is from actual- ity to actuality preserves our creatureliness, a necessary prerequisite for participation in the divine light and power that comes from above. It is in the poverty of our finitude and sin that we discover the fullness of God who exceeds the intent of our petitions and even the scope of our imagi- nation (Eph. 3:19-20, 1 Cor. 2:9). Most of all, the pathos and beauty of God, the presencing of grace and glory, bespeaks subsistence in God that exceeds our apprehension and that evokes our praise. By subsistence I mean something that is neither transitory nor ephemeral. Although in the beatific vision we never comprehend God, yet we really commune with

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God, a communion that begins in via, on the way. Here and now, in the Pentecostal assembly and the sacramental community, there resides the presencing of human and divine persons, the highest form of be-ing. There we catch a glimpse of authentic subjectivity as intersubjectivity, persons in communion. Such communion in the heart of God can only be invoked by naming that form that will never pass away—Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, there is just something about that Name!

Using Crimea and Splitting Turkey in Russia’s Strategy Against Israel

February 25, 2025 by  
Filed under Events, Featured, News

Russia’s Strategic Interest in Crimea: A Geopolitical and Prophetic Analysis

The annexation of Crimea by Russia in 2014 has been widely interpreted as a strategic move to secure naval dominance in the Black Sea and strengthen its geopolitical leverage against NATO and Ukraine. However, an alternative perspective emerges when analyzed through the lens of biblical prophecy and long-term military strategy. The drying up of the Euphrates and Tigris rivers, a phenomenon recorded in contemporary hydrological studies, aligns with prophetic interpretations that suggest a future military incursion from the north into the Middle East (Revelation 16:12). Russia’s occupation of Crimea provides it with the essential infrastructure to deploy land-based forces through Ukraine, positioning itself advantageously for a southward advance into the Levant.

Recent satellite imagery and military reports indicate that Russian forces have been expanding their logistic networks southward, ostensibly preparing for extended operational capacity beyond Ukraine. This movement aligns with Ezekiel 38, which speaks of a great northern power mobilizing toward Israel. The control of Crimea facilitates the use of land corridors, including the riverbeds of the drying Euphrates and Tigris, as viable routes for ground troop movements toward the Middle East. The historical precedent of dried riverbeds being used for military campaigns, such as those in ancient Mesopotamian conflicts, reinforces the plausibility of such a strategy.

The Implications of Splitting Turkey

Turkey’s geostrategic location has long made it a contested territory between global powers. Russia’s engagement with Turkey, often vacillating between diplomacy and military tension, suggests a broader plan to divide the nation. Russia has historically sought access to warm-water ports, and controlling parts of Turkey would provide a direct route into the Mediterranean, essential for projecting power into the Middle East. Biblical prophecies, such as Daniel 11:40-45, describe a northern king sweeping through the Middle East, which scholars interpret as a reference to an eschatological conflict involving major world powers.

Military analysts have noted that Turkey’s internal divisions—ranging from Kurdish separatist movements to ideological rifts between secularists and Islamists—could be exacerbated by external intervention. If Russia were to support separatist elements or engage in a direct military confrontation with Ankara, it could effectively partition Turkey, utilizing the eastern and southeastern regions as forward operating bases for an eventual military campaign against Israel. This aligns with longstanding Russian ambitions to expand its influence over the Bosporus and Dardanelles straits, a critical chokepoint for naval power projection.

Russia’s Long-Term Strategy Against Israel

Prophetic interpretations of Ezekiel 38-39, often referred to as the War of Gog and Magog, suggest an eventual coalition of northern powers targeting Israel. Russia’s military alliances with Iran and Syria, its arms sales to Hezbollah, and its growing presence in the Mediterranean point toward a strategic encirclement of Israel. Should Russia establish a stronghold in a divided Turkey, it would gain a crucial launching pad for an invasion into the Levant, a scenario eerily resembling biblical eschatological predictions.

Furthermore, Russia’s growing economic and military ties with Middle Eastern nations indicate an effort to consolidate power in the region. If Turkey were split, Russia could fortify a southern front, allowing for coordinated military action with its allies. The prophetic significance of these developments cannot be understated, as they align with scriptural warnings of a great northern coalition advancing against Israel in the end times.

Conclusion

While conventional geopolitical analysis frames Russia’s actions as strategic posturing within a multipolar world order, a prophetic interpretation suggests a deeper significance. The annexation of Crimea, the potential partitioning of Turkey, and the alignment with Middle Eastern allies all point toward a larger eschatological confrontation. As the Euphrates and Tigris rivers continue to dry, the pathways for military movement envisioned in ancient prophecy seem increasingly plausible. Whether viewed through the lens of strategic military doctrine or biblical foresight, Russia’s actions indicate a long-term vision that extends far beyond Ukraine and deep into the heart of the Middle East.

Creation and the Cross

November 20, 2024 by  
Filed under 365, Featured, News, Publication, Research

BY HENRY M. MORRIS, PH.D. | THURSDAY, APRIL 01, 1976

The two greatest events in all history are the creation of the world and the redemption of the world. Each of these events involved a great divine Week of work and a Day of rest. Creation Week accomplished the work of man’s formation; the week that is called Holy Week or Passion Week (perhaps a better term would be Redemption Week) accomplished the work of man’s salvation.

Creation Week, which culminated in a perfect world (Genesis 1:31), was followed by man’s fall and God’s Curse on the world (Genesis 3:17). Passion Week, which culminated in the death and burial of the maker of that perfect world, is followed by man’s restoration and the ultimate removal of God’s Curse from the world (Revelation 22:3). A Tree (Genesis 3:6) was the vehicle of man’s temptation and sin; another Tree (I Peter 2:24) was the vehicle of man’s forgiveness and deliverance.

The Two Weeks

It is fascinating to compare the events of the seven days of Creation Week and Redemption Week, respectively. The chronology of the events of Redemption Week has been the subject of much disagreement among scholars, and it is not possible to be certain on a number of the details. The discussion below is not meant to be dogmatic, but only to offer a possible additional dimension to their understanding and harmony. The traditional view that Friday was the day of the crucifixion is further strengthened by the correlations suggested in this study.

(1) First Day. The first day of creation involved the very creation of the universe itself (Genesis 1:1). An entire cosmos responded to the creative fiat of the Maker of heaven and earth. Initially this Space-Mass-Time (i.e., heaven, earth, beginning) continuum was created in the form of basic elements only, with no structure and no occupant (Genesis 1:2), a static suspension in a pervasive, watery matrix (II Peter 3:5). When God’s Spirit began to move, however, the gravitational and electromagnetic force systems for the cosmos were energized. The waters and their suspensions coalesced into a great spherical planet and, at the center of the electromagnetic spectrum of forces, visible light was generated (Genesis 1:3).

In a beautiful analogy, on the first day of Passion Week, the Creator King of the universe entered His chosen capital city (Zechariah 9:9,10; Matthew 21:1-9) to begin His work of redemption, as He had long ago entered His universe to begin His work of creation. Even the very elements He had created (Luke 19:39, 40) would have acknowledged His authority, though the human leaders of His people would not.

(2) Second Day. Having created and activated the earth, God next provided for it a marvelous atmosphere and hydrosphere in which, later, would live the birds and fishes. No other planet, of course, is equipped with air and water in such abundance, and this is strong evidence that the earth was uniquely planned for man and animal life. The hydrosphere was further divided into waters below and waters above “the firmament.” The waters above the firmament (the Hebrew word for firmament means, literally “stretched-out space”) probably comprised a vast blanket of transparent water vapor, maintaining a perfect climate worldwide, with ideal conditions for longevity.

Paralleling the primeval provision of life-sustaining air and water, on the second day of Redemption Week, He entered again into the city (having spent the night in Bethany) and taught in the temple. As He approached the city, He cursed the barren fig tree (Mark 11:12-14) and then, in the temple, overthrew the tables of the money changers (Mark 11:15-19). This seems to have been the second time in two days that He had turned out the money changers (the parallel accounts in Matthew and Luke indicate that He also did this on the first day). Both actions¾the cursing of the fig tree and the cleansing of the temple¾symbolize the purging of that which is barren or corrupt in the Creator’s kingdom. He had created a world prepared for life (air for the breath of life and water as the matrix of life), but mankind, even the very teachers of His chosen people, had made it unfruitful and impure. As physical life must first have a world of pure air and water, so the preparations for a world of true spiritual life require the purifying breath of the Spirit and the cleansing water of the Word, preparing for the true fruit of the Spirit and the true temple of God’s presence, in the age to come.

(3) Third Day. The next day, the sight of the withered fig tree led to an instructive lesson on faith in God, the Lord Jesus assuring the disciples that real faith could move mountains into the sea (Mark 11:20-24). In parallel, on the third day of creation, God had literally called mountains up out of the sea (Genesis 1:9,10).

It was also on this day that the Lord had the most abrasive of all His confrontations with the Pharisees and Sadducees. He spoke many things against them and they were actively conspiring to destroy Him. It is appropriate that His challenges to them on this day began with two parables dealing with a vineyard (Matthew 21:28-32 and Matthew 21:33-43; see also Mark 12:1-11 and Luke 20:9-18), in which He reminded them that they had been called to be in charge of God’s vineyard on the earth, and had failed. Like the fig tree, there was no fruit for God from their service, and therefore, they would soon be removed from their stewardship.

Likewise, the entire earth was on the third day of Creation Week prepared as a beautiful garden, with an abundance of fruit to nourish every living creature (Genesis 1:11,12) and it had been placed in man’s care (Genesis 1:28-30; 2:15). But mankind in general, and the chosen people in particular, had failed in their mission. Before the earth could be redeemed and made a beautiful garden again (Revelation 22:2), it must be purged and the faithless keepers of the vineyard replaced.

This third day of Passion Week was climaxed with the great Sermon on the Mount of Olives in which the Lord promised His disciples that, though Jerusalem must first be destroyed, He would come again, in power and great glory, to establish His kingdom in a new Jerusalem (Matthew 24 and 25; Mark 13; Luke 21). It was appropriate that He should then spend the night following that third day, with the handful of disciples who were still faithful to Him, on the Mount of Olives (Luke 21:37), for the Mount would call to memory that far-off third day of Creation Week when He had drawn all the mountains out of the sea. Also, the Garden of Gethsemane on its slopes, with its little grove of vines and fruit trees, would bring to mind the beautiful Garden of Eden and the verdant world He had planted everywhere on the dry land on that same third day. Because of what He was now about to accomplish at Jerusalem (Luke 9:31), the ground would one day be cleansed of its Curse, and all would be made new again (Revelation 21:5).

(4) Fourth Day. On the fourth day of Creation Week, the Lord Jesus had formed the sun and the moon and all the stars of heaven. There had been “light” on the first three days, but now there were actual lights! Not only would the earth and its verdure be a source of beauty and sustenance to man, but even the very heavens would bring joy and inspiration to him. Furthermore, they would guide his way and keep his time.

But instead of the stars of heaven turning man’s thoughts and affections toward His Creator, they had been corrupted and identified with a host of false gods and goddesses. Furthermore, instead of creating a sense of awe and reverence for the majesty of the One who could fill all heavens, they had bolstered man’s belief that the earth is insignificant and meaningless in such a vast, evolving cosmos. Perhaps thoughts such as these troubled the mind of the Lord that night as He lay on the mountain gazing at the lights He had long ago made for the darkness.

When morning came, He returned to Jerusalem, where many were waiting to hear Him. He taught in the temple (Luke 21:37, 38), but the synoptic gospels do not record His teachings. This lack, however is possibly supplied in the apparently parenthetical record of His temple teachings as given only in the fourth gospel (John 12:20-50) because there the Lord twice compared Himself to the Light He had made: “I am come a light into the world, that whosoever believeth in me should not abide in darkness.” “Yet a little while is the light with you. Walk while ye have the light, lest darkness come upon you; for he that walketh in darkness knoweth not whither he goeth” (John 12:46, 35). He who was the true Light must become darkness, in order that, in the new world, there would never be night again (Revelation 22:5).

(5) Fifth Day. There is little information given in the gospels about the fifth day of Redemption Week. When there were yet “two days until the Passover” (Mark 14:1), right after the bitter confrontation with the scribes and chief priests on the Third Day, the latter began actively seeking a means to trap and execute Jesus, though they feared to do it on the day on which the Passover Feast was to be observed (Mark 14:2). It was either on the Fourth Day or possibly on this Fifth Day, which was the feast day, that Judas went to them with his offer to betray Jesus. He had apparently been seriously thinking about this action ever since the night when the Lord had rebuked him for his cupidity. This had been in the home in Bethany, on the night of the Sabbath, just before the day when Christ entered Jerusalem riding on the ass (John 12:1-8). This seems to have been the same supper described in Matthew 26:6-13 and Mark 14:3-9, even though in these it is inserted parenthetically after the sermon on the Mount of Olives, probably in order to stress the direct causal relation of this supper to Judas’ decision to betray his Master (Matthew 26:14-16; Mark 14:10-11).

On this day of the Passover, the Lord Jesus instructed two of His disciples to make preparations for their own observance of the feast that night (Mark 14:12-17). So far as the record goes; this is all that we know of His words during that day, though there is no doubt that He was teaching in the temple on this day as well (Luke 21:37, 38). Perhaps this strange silence in the record for this Fifth Day is for the purpose of emphasizing the greater importance of these preparations for the Passover. The fact that John indicates the preparation day to have been the following day (John 19:14) is probably best understood in terms of the fact that, at that time, the Galileans are known to have observed the Passover on one day and the Judeans on the following day.

Multitudes of sacrificial lambs and other animals had been slain and their blood spilled through the centuries, but this would be the last such acceptable sacrifice. On the morrow, the Lamb of God would take away the sins of the world (John 1:29). He would offer one sacrifice for sins forever (Hebrews 10:12). With the blood of His cross, He would become the great Peace Maker, reconciling all things unto the Maker of those things (Colossians 1:16, 20).

As the Lord thought about the shedding of the blood of that last Passover lamb on that Fifth Day of Holy Week, He must also have thought of the Fifth Day of Creation Week, when He had first created animal life. “God created every living creature (Hebrew nephesh) that moveth” (Genesis 1:21). This had been His second great act of creation, when He created the entity of conscious animal life (the first had been the creation of the physical elements, recorded in Genesis 1:1). In these living animals, the “life” of the flesh was in their blood, and it was the blood which would later be accepted as an atonement for sin (Leviticus 17:11). Note that the words “creature,” “soul,” and “life” all are translations of the same Hebrew word nephesh. Surely the shedding of the innocent blood of the lamb that day would recall the far-off day when the “life” in that blood had been created. And because He, the Lamb of God, was about to become our Passover (I Corinthians 5:7), death itself would soon be swallowed up in victory and life (1 Corinthians 15:54).

(6) Sixth Day. On the Sixth Day, man had been created in the image and likeness of God, the very climax and goal of God’s great work of creation (Genesis 1:26, 27). But on this Sixth Day, God, made in the likeness of man, finished the even greater work of redemption.

Under the great Curse, the whole creation had long been groaning and travailing in pain (Romans 8:22). But now the Creator, Himself, had been made the Curse (Galatians 3:13; Isaiah 52:14), and it seemed as though the Creation also must die. Though He had made heaven and earth on the First Day, now He had been lifted up from the earth (John 3:14) and the heavens were silent (Matthew 27:46). Though He had made the waters on the Second Day, He who was the very Water of Life (John 4:14), was dying of thirst (John 19:28).

On the Third Day He had made the dry land, but now the “earth did quake and the rocks rent” (Matthew 27:51) because the Rock of salvation had been smitten (Exodus 17:6). He had also covered the earth with trees and vines on that third day, but now the True Vine(John 15:1) had been plucked up and the Green Tree (Luke 23:31) cut down. He had made the sun on the Fourth Day, but now the sun was darkened (Luke 23:45) and the Light of the World (John 8:12) was burning out. On the Fifth Day He had created life, and He Himself was Life (John 11:25; 14:6), but now the life of His flesh, the precious blood, was being poured out on the ground beneath the cross, and He had been brought “into the dust of death” (Psalm 22:15). On the Sixth Day He had created man and given him life, but now man had despised the love of God and lifted up the Son of Man to death.

(7) Seventh Day. But that is not the end of the story, and all was proceeding according to “the determinate counsel and foreknowledge of God” (Acts 2:23). “On the seventh day God ended His work which He had made” (Genesis 1:21). Furthermore, “everything that He had made was very good” (Genesis 1:31). God’s majestic work of Creation was complete and perfect in every detail.

And so is His work of salvation! This is especially emphasized in John’s account: “After this, Jesus knowing that all things were now accomplished, that the Scripture might be fulfilled, saith, “I thirst… When Jesus therefore had received the vinegar, He said, it is finished; and He bowed His head, and gave up the ghost” (John 19:28, 30) (the emphasized words are all the same word in the Greek original). Jesus had finished all the things He had to do, and then He finished the last of the prophetic scriptures that must be carried out. Then, and only then, was the work of redemption completed and the price of reconciliation fully paid, so that He could finally shout (Matthew 27:50) the great victory cry, “It is finished.”

The record of Creation stresses repeatedly that the entire work of the creation and making of all things had been finished (Genesis 2:1-3). In like manner does John’s record stress repeatedly the finished work of Christ on the cross.

Furthermore, as the finished creation was “very good,” so is our finished salvation. The salvation which Christ thus provided on the cross is “so great” (Hebrews 2:3) and “eternal” (Hebrews 5:9), and the hope thereof is “good” (II Thessalonians 2:13).

Then, finally, having finished the work of redemption, Christ rested on the seventh day, His body sleeping in death in Joseph’s tomb. He had died quickly, and the preparations for burial had been hurried (Luke 23:54-56), so that He could be buried before the Sabbath. As He had rested after finishing His work of Creation, so now He rested once again.

On the third day (that is the First Day of the new week), He would rise again, as He had said (Matthew 16:21, et al). His body had rested in the tomb all the Sabbath Day, plus part of the previous and following days, according to Hebrew idiomatic usage, “three days and three nights” (Matthew 12:40)¾but death could hold Him no longer. He arose from the dead, and is now alive forevermore (Revelation 1:8).

Gen Z and Mental Health

July 10, 2024 by  
Filed under Featured, News, Publication, Research

How can church leaders better reach Gen Z? Doug Powe, Director of the Lewis Center, speaks with Josh Packard about Springtide Research Institute’s research including what faith leaders need to know about Gen Z’s religious beliefs and mental health. 


Doug Powe: What is the research process for Spring Tide Research Institute’s annual report, The State of Religion & Young People 2022: Mental Health — What Faith Leaders Need to Know? 

Josh Packard: I am a former academic, but I will keep this as engaging as possible. We use an approach that we’ve been pioneering called . We focus on the classical quantitative (statistics) and qualitative (interviews). We collected about 10,000 surveys and did over 100 interviews with young people. We involve young people’s voices throughout the research process.  

We’ve got a group of young people that meets monthly, and they help us shape the questions. Sometimes we bring them data and we think we understand what it’s telling us but we’re not sure. They’ll help us and say, “No, man. That’s not the right way to think about that. It means this other thing.” Or they’ll affirm that we’re on the right track.  

We’re still researchers, so as much as we listen to young people and try to center their voices in this process, we are also triangulating that with good existing academic theory and our own quantitative and qualitative data. It’s not like it’s straight out of their mouths and onto our pages. We involve them throughout all stages of the process in some pretty important and formal ways, which you can see in the research especially in the kinds of questions we ask. 

Doug Powe: Josh, I have a son who falls within the range of your study, so I was very interested in your report. I’ve observed many of the issues that you name like depression and anxiety. What was a little surprising is how high the numbers were that you discovered: 47 percent of young people reported being moderately or extremely depressed, and 55 percent moderately or extremely stressed. What are some of the root causes of depression and stress? 

Josh Packard: First, it’s worth noting that these are self-report numbers. These are not clinical diagnoses, so there’s a few things that I think are going into that. For Gen Z, talking about mental health no longer carries the same stigma it has for previous generations. This does not mean that all the stigma reduction work is done and that we can stop thinking about it. That’s not true. It just means that we’ve come a long way. 

When Gen Z thinks and talks to us about mental health stigma, they don’t mean among each other. They mean between them and the adults in their lives. They know that the adults in their lives do not like talking about mental health, even to the other adults, but certainly it makes them uncomfortable for adults to have conversations with young people and mental health. I do think that there’s a little bit more of what I would call rightsizing of that conversation. I’m 44 and when I was growing up these were not things that were open topics of conversation, at least in my suburban mostly white community. These were things discussed behind closed doors, if at all. And now, if you spend any amount of time on TikTok or on Instagram, you’ll see mental health is an ongoing, very public, and open conversation especially for young people. So, I think that’s a big part of it. At the same time, part of that is just about shifting the social and cultural norms about what’s acceptable to talk about.  

The actual realities of young people’s lives have changed in some important ways, too. One thing that had a big effect was the pandemic, and the pandemic didn’t change things for young people in this regard. The Surgeon General and other people were all over this before the pandemic hit, pointing out that this was a looming and potentially already started crisis before we went into lockdown. The pandemic accelerated trends that were already in place. 

When you broaden out for just a minute and think about what social media and social media technologies mean for young people, they are not inherently good or bad. We know that social media companies do not have young people’s bests interests in mind. That is not how they operate. They’ve got armies of PhDs who are trying to keep eyes glued to the screen as long as they possibly can. A 15-year-old’s prefrontal cortex is no match for that. It’s not because they’re gullible. It’s not because they’re bad or weak people. The brain has not developed in a way that allows them to turn those things off as easily as adults. By the way, a lot of adults have trouble turning off social media. 

They’re constantly bombarded by messages that are not necessarily designed to be affirming, or to help them flourish. They are really designed to keep them looking, and sometimes what keeps them looking is not always great. Those are two of the really big things that we haven’t really developed clear social norms and parenting guidelines around. They’re emerging and people are getting better at it, but certainly there are a lot of parents who are just like, “Whatever. I don’t even know where to start. I’m just going let them go.” 

Doug Powe: Right.  

Josh Packard: Many adults were struggling with our own things through the pandemic, trying to keep jobs, to keep food on the table, to meet basic needs. And as much as adults might have tried to do and have done some real things with mental health, they couldn’t do everything all at once. I think those are two of the biggest factors that have sort of pushed mental health to the forefront for Gen Z. 

Doug Powe: That’s helpful, and we’ll come back to the pandemic a little bit later. I should have mentioned upfront that this is sort of self-diagnosis per the statistics. Do you believe that young people have a different understanding of mental health? I think that older people work with almost clinical definitions when we do talk about it. Do you think Gen Z understands mental health in different ways than many of us who are older understand it? 

Josh Packard: Yes, I think that’s right. Even when we look at the clinical diagnoses, those are certainly on the uptick with young people. But they are talking about mental health in a much more holistic way. Let’s just take one seemingly small thing that has important implications — the very term mental health. For people maybe my age and certainly older, mental health was often synonymous with mental illness. When we talked about mental health, what we meant was “you’re having a problem.” What we found in our interviews is that Gen Z doesn’t think about it that way. If they mean a problem, they will talk about mental illness. What they mean when they talk about mental health is mental health. It’s talking about mental healthiness, mental health issues or problems and what they can to help support their mental health and be healthy in the same way that I think previous generations addressed physical health. It’s not that you will only talk about your physical health when you go to the doctor because you have a problem or because something is broken. You’re also exercising at the gym, etc., and calling all that physical health. Well, Gen Z very much is in that same vein except with mental health, too.  

Doug Powe: That’s important to note because, while many of us know that we don’t often make that distinction, the distinction between mental illness and mental health is an important one. The report certainly helps to lift that up and to clarify that distinction.  

Your report shares interesting and good news that young people with a religious connection tend to do better. With that, however, is a challenge that those in faith communities also can do as much harm as good when it comes to helping young people. What role should pastors and others in faith communities play in helping young people who are stressed or anxious? Secondly, when the issues are deep, how do we make sure that we help them get the professional care they need and not try to solve those issues for them? 

Josh Packard: Those are great questions, and you’re right to point out that, at the extreme, there are ways that religion can be bad for you. It’s also worth noting, while it’s true in the Gallup research for the last 30 years and true across all the academic studies that religion is generally good for you, it is also true that, increasingly, this is a self-selected group of people. We also need to pay attention to whom religion was keeping away in many cases and any resulting mental health ramifications.  

Living a life that’s connected to something bigger than yourself or that’s driven by purpose — those are good things. There are a lot of young people who just don’t feel like they have access to those things because of their identity, or they don’t have access to a person who is welcomed by a lot of the religious institutions, or they don’t perceive being welcomed by those institutions. What religious leaders have to offer is that you are not alone in this world and you are intrinsically connected to a part of something that’s bigger than yourself — and that can be ancestral, that can be where you and your people come from. It can be something that’s bound up by an ideology, belief system, or theology that communicates that you’re a part of something that’s bigger.  

When that happens, lots of other things sort of click into place, especially for a young person who’s spending most of adolescence trying to figure out if this thing happening to me is the biggest thing that’s ever happened to anyone in the whole world ever, or is this just a normal thing that happens. And how should I respond appropriately to that? I mean, that’s what socialization is. When you get that sense of purpose and that sense of connection, navigation becomes a lot easier. Setbacks are just setbacks; they’re not the end of the world. Faith can contribute to much more resilience for young people experiencing a lot of the stress and strife that often comes with growing up.  

There is a big caveat: in many cases, especially historically, for some reason and not across the board but with some faith and religious expressions, there’s been a tendency to think that mental health issues are an impediment to faith, that they are an indicator that you’re not praying in the right way (if you’re Christian) or believing in the right way or meditating in the right way, etc. So, there’s a reluctance in some communities to seek out professional mental health advisors.  

I mentioned at the beginning that we meet with a group of young people every month, and they’re phenomenal. They take time every month to meet with us on Zoom for a couple of hours, and we talk about everything. This project started because we knew this was an issue, and we were trying to figure out if Springtide had a role to play or if there was something useful for us to contribute to this conversation. If there was nothing useful, unique, and special, for us to say, we would let others who are better at this talk about it. What convinced me that we had something we should pursue was when one of our ambassadors said, “There was a time that I was really struggling with some mental health issues. I went to my youth minister, and I was told to pray about it. When that didn’t work, I walked away thinking ‘Great. Now, not only does my mental health suck, but my faith life sucks, too.’”  

It hit me because I felt, in that moment, that I could see that whole scene unfolding. We hear from a lot of people who are well-meaning, well-intentioned adults working in some sort of faith-based setting with young folks. We talk to a lot of young people like this young man who was sharing the story with me. In that moment, I was able to see there was no harm intended by that youth minister. They were using the best tools at their disposal to try and help that young person sitting across the table from them, and it wasn’t good enough.  

That cannot be all we have to offer a young person who’s dealing with depression, anxiety, or some other really serious issue. It’s an important part of a response. Faith, religion, and spirituality can be critical components to getting through those kinds of issues, working on them, and incorporating them and their treatment into your life, but they’re not the whole response. Here’s a story we have to tell that privileges, understands, and positions purpose, faith, and belief in spirituality in an important way but also recognizes its limits and points to this mental health thing young people are experiencing as a real thing that needs real professionals to come alongside in that domain as well as in their religious and spiritual lives. 

Doug Powe: You’ve already mentioned some key words, but what was also helpful in the report is that you share a framework for faith communities that can be helpful in their being a place that is prepared to welcome young people and help them deal with different mental health issues. In that framework, you talk about connectionexpectation, and purpose. I’m going to let you explain the framework. I appreciate that you’re not saying, if you do these things, they will lead to the perfect community, but you’re sharing things that you need to consider as you’re thinking about the working with young people. That distinction is important for what it is you’re hoping to accomplish. 

Josh Packard: We also affirm the need for mental health first aid training and being prepared to connect young people with practitioners and resources. I was a professor for 15 years, and I often felt wholly unequipped to deal with some of the issues that students were facing and trying to navigate. I always felt very grateful that we had professional resources on campus that I could refer them to, but it struck me that we should be able to do more. Our organizations themselves should be structured in a way that supports young people’s mental health from beginning to end, that are what we call “mental-health friendly” organizations.  

Are young people going to have mental health issues? Are they going to have breakdowns and things like this? Of course. For some people, there’s a complex mixture of social and biological factors at play, and you’re not going to eliminate all those. We can do better, and we can prevent more of these issues from becoming crises. Part of the pathway forward is by implementing connection, expectation, and purpose.  

The first is about connection. It’s about giving young people a place where they feel like they belong, so they don’t feel alienated in this world especially when it’s going to happen. It’s part of growing up. Your entire social life at some point is going to come crashing down upon you. I mean that’s part of what it means to be a teenager. I remember those moments distinctly. Having a place where you feel like you belong and that you can turn to in a community who knows you and cares about you unreservedly is critical. We’ve written about the complex process of belonging before, and there are some clear steps that people can take to foster belonging among young people in their organizations. 

The second is about expectation. Expectation is a little bit more complex. There’s a lot of cognitive dissonance that young people experience in many of the organizations where they must involve themselves, especially schools, where they know what the expectations are — they’re very clear. And yet they’re not necessarily given the tools to meet those expectations. 

And in many cases, they are given a set of tools and told that the set of tools will lead to the expectations that they’re supposed to get. They’re given a tutor, and they’re told, if you go to this tutor, it will help you get the grades that you’re expected to get. But those tools don’t always line up with those expectations. When those tools are used and they don’t lead to the kinds of outcomes that are expected, young people start to internalize that. Why can’t I do this thing that I’m supposed to be able to do, even with these resources? Now, sometimes it’s because young people aren’t doing all the work that they need to do, which needs to be noted. But a lot of times it’s because the tools are not really aligned with the outcome we’re trying to get young people to achieve.  

In churches a lot of times this looks like theologies. In the theology in some places, you’re expected to be caretakers of creation, but the congregation isn’t concerned about the climate crisis that young people feel so acutely. So, they’re trying to wrap their heads around this theology that seems to not care about consumption or is not pointing a finger at consumption or having anything to say about it along with this expectation that they’re supposed to care about creation. That doesn’t make any sense to them. The more we can align those or reduce cognitive dissonance, the more we support young people in their mental health.  

The last one is a sense of purpose. Do you feel like you are a part of something bigger than who you are alone? Do you see your story as being wrapped up in a story that transcends time and space and at least you and your neighborhood and your local community? Living with a sense of purpose is foundational to overall flourishing, to discerning the right decision in each situation, and ultimately to mental health.  

Doug Powe: In The State of Religion & Young People 2022: Mental Health — What Faith Leaders Need to Know, there’s a section on what faith communities should know. In that section, you talk about notice, named, and known. Let’s focus on known for a minute. How is it that particularly faith communities can really get to know people when it’s only a virtual space they may have access to? 

Josh Packard:  Notice, named, and known are the three steps toward creating belonging. Virtual is brand-new territory for cultivating a sense of belonging. One thing we’ve learned from young people is they love for you to show up in virtual spaces if you can show up authentically. All young people seem to have a keen sense of when adults are trying to put one over on them, and their default assumption may be that adults are always trying to put one over on them. So, when you show up there in those spaces jumping on the latest trends but it’s not really who you are, they see right through that.   

We should take their online lives seriously. About a year ago a young person told me after a presentation, “when the adults in my life dismiss my online life, they disqualify themselves from the conversation of my life.” I thought that was such a poignant statement. I asked her to explain more about what she meant. “Look, not everything that we do there is important. Most of it, in fact, is not important, but a lot of it is really important. We are turning to places like TikTok and Instagram and social media to explore what Diwali is.” They’re not going to Wikipedia, and a lot of them don’t live in very diverse communities. They’re going online to find out what Diwali is or what Rosh Hashanah means or the difference between Hanukkah and Christmas, for example.  

They are doing a lot of religious exploration, and their online lanes are wildly diverse. I think it’s not so much if you should be there and be one of those diverse sources. I suppose if you had the institutional capacity to do it and you’ve got somebody who understands that well and you want to do it, fine. More than anything, there’s an opportunity to engage them in real life conversations about what’s going on in their social media. And those can start small, but they often are a gateway to talking about bigger and further explorations.  

One of the things we asked my 12-year-old son every week is: what’s the most interesting thing you saw on YouTube this week? It’s the only “social-ish” media that he’s allowed to use. We wouldn’t dare let him on Instagram or Facebook or anything else. We started having those conversations as the beginning of the steps into what’s catching his attention, and it tells us if you’re paying attention to that Why. What kinds of questions are you asking? It becomes the gateway to these kinds of questions. We can use social media as a way to have a presence that helps to shape the narrative or almost like a foil against which to help shape our interactions with young people. We shouldn’t dismiss them. 

Doug Powe: As we get ready to bring this to a close, I want you to share with our listeners with what really struck you in putting the annual report together?  

Josh Packard: I was a faculty member for a while, and we always used to see mental health issues, mental illness, as a barrier to doing the thing that we were supposed to do. I asked: can we get our students some more support so we can get back to the real task of them learning? 

I’m not sure that’s necessarily the wrong approach to take in that setting. But what we learned from putting together The State of Religion and Young People was that it might be the wrong approach to take in a faith-based setting where it is: can we deal with these mental health things so we can get back to the issue of faith formation that we’re really supposed to be here for? What we saw in the data was that engaging young people authentically and relationally and putting real resources into their mental health communicates a care and concern on behalf of religious leaders and adults for young people that young people often assume isn’t there. So, doing one is in service of the other. This is not simply can we deal with this and move on to the real work? In many cases, if you do it right, this can be the real work of showing what faith looks like in action. For example, a term that Christians a lot of times use is being the hands and feet of God, and young people are shockingly lacking in those examples in their lives. I think that this can be a pathway towards that if we take it really seriously. 

Blinded by Smoke and Mirrors

Blinded by Smoke and Mirrors
by Kathryn Donev

We are not to mess around in any way, shape or form with any type of witchcraft or divination. This is a command that the Bible is super transparent about. There is no question whether or not it’s okay. In Exodus we are told not to tolerate a sorceress or a woman that has magical powers or paranormal abilities. In Leviticus it is clear that we are not to practice divination or fortune soothsaying. The message is so direct that in Leviticus 20:27 it says that a man or a woman who has a ghost or a familiar spirit shall be put to death; they shall be pelted with stones. Not just a slap on the wrist or a gentle verbal scolding. And I don’t know about you, but to me, being stoned to death is a dreadful way to die.

In Deuteronomy 18:10-11 it says, “Let no one be found among you who consigns a son or daughter to the fire, or who is an augur, a soothsayer, a diviner, a sorcerer, one who casts spells, or one who consults ghosts or familiar spirits, or one who inquires of the dead”. There is no question about it. These practices are all wrong. Period. End of story. No debate. No talking your way out of it. It can’t get any clearer. We know what will happen if we are tempted with this nonsense. Remember what happened to Aaron’s sons when they played with false fire. There are no second chances, and the consequence is for an eternity. Division from Christ. No eternal life. No Heavenly reward. It is serious. It’s not a game. Right? Are we clear to this point? Of course we are.

But are we really clear? All this stuff was surely just in Biblical times. Does Hocus Pocus exist today? Nah, it’s a fictional movie that’s no big deal to watch time and time again. We are surely strong enough to resist the indoctrinating. But are our children?  We allow them to watch “The Little Mermaid” and suppress the small detail that one of the characters is a sea witch. HELLO… Identifying with such has become popular to the point we ignore when our children mark their foreheads with lightning bolts.  Really!  An iconic symbol of danger. In what reality is this okay? And I’m not even going to go down the rabbit trail of all the dark children’s songs we sing where babies are falling from trees and children are plagued with rings around the rosies.

The entertainment industry has completely enchanted us.  They no longer even attempt to hidе the fact that they are bewildering with hidden agendas.  Agendas that confuse.  Right is wrong and wrong is right.  Good is bad and bad is good.  But woe to those that do this. We first ignore the evil, then we tolerate, then we promote it and then make fun of the people that still call evil, evil. But that’s okay.  Make fun of me if you wish. Call me strange.  I think protecting my family is more important than the opinion of others.

But,  All Saints Day Eve T-shirts that say “I eat children” or “You put a spell on me” are just for humor. Haunted houses with ghosts, goblins and much more horrific monsters are merely for the thrill.  Toy cauldrons that are paired with a mystical plushie that can help you cast a spell and the classical magic 8 ball that help you predict the future are just so cool.  If all these are for entertainment purposes only; it surely can’t go against God’s Word. Well in Act, Elymas became temporarily blind when he performed magic. I think this might be a clue whether or not it’s an okay thing to do. Simon in the New Testament did magic like he was God. He tried to transcend the Truth, but his heart was not right. This still happens today in many places including heavily in the territory of Cyprus. The occultic influence is so burdensome that it is hard to break through the spirit of oppression and depression.

We are so blinded that we don’t even think when we say things like “mumbo, jumbo” which comes from the African term for a male masked dancer of arcane rituals. We loosely say, “It’s not in the cards”. Well duh….this is referring to a fortune teller’s reading. Tarot cards and ouija boards are no game. We might should read about King Saul’s experience when he sought out a medium at Endor. It’s real stuff you do not want to tangle with. Demons are real. And they will control your life every chance they get. Even worse, they will prow on the innocent and malleable minds of our children.

We have been so blinded by false mysticism that we have lost sight of Biblical truths.  Yes, the Bible still has truths and not suggestions.  So why do we think it’s okay to read fantasy stories that promote these distorted practices. We think it’s okay to dabble with the dead because it’s just a silly graveyard game and we all know that zombies aren’t real. We think it’s not a problem to use the ghost filter because they are so cute like fluffy marshmallows. Paranormal cartoons and TV series that promote attractive vampires are harmless. Anime is an innocent escape from reality in which we can create a distinction between real world and make-belief violence, sexual content and Japanese influences. And let’s not forget the fashionable witch and wizard hats. It’s no big deal to dress up in a costume.  It’s only once a year. And goth is only dark clothes, right?  But these are all so far from the truth.  If your child is wearing dark clothes, dark make-up and bondage accessories, don’t ignore their cry for non-judgmental inclusion.  It’s a slipper slope. 

Jannes and Jambres who opposed Moses in front of the Pharaoh were only deceivers, corrupt in the minds and worthless in the faith. I personally don’t want to be considered a deceiver, or corrupt or worthless. I want my heart to be in the right place. I choose life in Christ. I will do my best to be separate from these contrary beliefs and practices. I don’t even want to be tempted with the euphoric “pleasures” that they are thought to bring. No looking back, forward we must go. Undistracted by smoke and mirrors.

I will maintain claim to my family and my territory. It is true that we are to love everybody, but when we allow  wicca influences to come into our community and begin to bewitch with innocent terminology like “apothecary”, “mood balancing” “centering” then we should be alert. Their idea of “alter” is not a Godly one. It’s definitely not a southern phrase when they say “blessed.” Astrology is not just looking at the stars either. Charms are not just cute trinkets and crafting is not an art project. God is the maker of all things. The moon, stars and all of nature belongs to Him and should be cherished as intended. Bodies grounding and moving to find peace should be center in Christ and not in Hinduism, Buddhism or Jainism.  This is a warning to remove the blinders before there is no chance to turn back. Wake up people! Protect yourself and your family.

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When we wrote back in March and again last month, we could hardly imagine what God had in store for our area. After eight full weeks of revival in Polk County more revivals are on our schedule this month. Swept by the wave of the Spirit, several independent churches have joined in with parallel meetings, thus multiplying the expected attendance exponentially.

Initially 7, now 8 churches and multiple ministries across Polk County, TN have set to seek after the will of God for revival in their area after the pandemic. The revival has gone on now two months each week changing to another of the original seven church locations. Thousands have attended in the past eight weeks alone with multiple saved, recommitted and called to the ministry in the past month. Churches from the greater Conasauga, Reliance, Ocoee, Old Fort, Benton, and Delano communities along with the two oldest Polk County congregations at Cookson Creek and Friendship Baptist, are joining piece by piece the original vision God has given to many ministers for this area of East Tennessee. As Polk Revival continues strong, the participants are requesting prayer from all who love the Lord and have awaited His renewal of the land and His people. https://polkrevival.com/

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