Friday, June 18, 2004

Speak easy

People such as myself who have found the need to try and express some theme or part of the scriptural story that we feel, rightly or wrongly, has been ignored have a major problem. Firstly, we have to start with the very language that has suppressed those themes or parts in the first place. From there, we have a choice: either to

(a) invent a new language, or
(b) subvert and re-apply the old language.

The constant flicking-back-and-forth between these two options is a strained and difficult process. Words create 'channels' in the mind along which thoughts flow; that is why some things get suppressed in the first place. But new words and phrases can unblock channels that one somehow suspects ought to be there but have had no way to be expressed. The difficulty lies in finding those new words or phrases, and making them understood.

This process even more difficult when it is faced with a twinned prejudice and a constant test. The prejudice is against, on the one hand, anything wholly new (because what is true is already known, so therefore anything new must be false), and on the other anything new that borrows the language of known 'heresies' (because modern critics cannot distinguish between a form of words and a new meaning, despite the fact that the beginnings of Christian theology was built on exactly that distinction).

The constant test is a set of questions almost invariably beginning "so are you saying that...", or "so are you denying that...". These questions arise out of and are put in the terms of the old language - precisely that which one is trying to modify. Half the time, one simply doesn't know the answer, because the question's categories don't fit what one is trying to express. But in the worst case, even a hesitation in answering can be enough to be condemned.

Now I'm not saying that this is all bad. On the contrary, it's inevitable. Of course we are restricted to understandings provided by the language we use; of course we want to test new things by the standards of what we know already; of course we sometimes have difficulty seeing the difference between an accustomed usage and a new one. These things are to be expected.

What makes all the difference in the world is the spirit with which these difficulties are faced. There are those who are harsh, dogmatic, stubborn, ungracious and arrogant when it comes to facing someone struggling to say something new. These are the ones whose minds are rigid, and convinced of their own rightness. They are the ones who are unwilling to see from another's point-of-view, because anything but theirs is - by virtue of the fact that they are right - wrong. They are those whose grace is in a sledgehammer, whose love is in judgment, whose fellowship is in narrow little exclusive clubs of self-congratulatory pride. It is best to flee from these people. In thinking that the church stands or falls on their own opinions, they will destroy it.

On-the-other-hand. There are those who remember their own struggles (and who have them still), who know that knowledge and expression of understanding is a complex thing, who recognise the good things and love the potential they see, who deal in charity and love with the one who is trying to wrestle with scripture. These folk remember their own immaturity (and feel it still), they blush to think of some of the things that they did when younger, and do not think that the only acceptable mistakes to make are the ones that they made. But none of this is the most important thing. The best folk remember that God is in control, that God is Lord, that the church is Christ's and sealed with his blood, that God's way with people is slow, patient, gentle and mysterious, and most of all, gracious.

When people like me, therefore, read others who are beginning to say the same things as we have been trying to say, for which we have suffered abuse, slander, accusation and unjust separation from the Lord's body, it is a great joy. It is even better if those who say it are somewhat respected and are (in some circles at least) listened to carefully. These are things that the always reforming in semper reformanda is made of.

This is no more so for me personally than in the questions of eschatology: regeneration, new creations, and judgments, and faith: covenant, works, doctrine, instruction, and grace. I am completely convinced that - at least in New Zealand - the Reformed tradition has ossified many of these important, even central, biblical themes, and has contributed to a lackluster and pathetically implemented gospel. Whatever Calvin and the other Reformers said or may have said, these things are not said now.

It is therefore among my greatest joys to find Douglas Wilson, among others, saying very important things about faith, new creations, regeneration (and here), and covenant identity. These are all things that, if meditated on deeply and widely, would not necessarily change any of our confessions, but would surely change what was being said in the street, here and now.

And a disclaimer: I am not claiming that all I have ever said has been wise, correct, timely, or appropriate. I am not even claiming to be particularly wise. Given what I have said above, this kind of conclusion would be absurd. I disagree with myself all the time, and blush often. Neither is this a quest for sympathy, a sob-story 'with intent'. It is, as ever, an attempt to speak clearly about what I see as vital issues facing the church.