In Defense of the Neo-Reformed
September 2, 2013 § 5 Comments
An honest question for you, because I’m really struggling to figure this out: what do you do with teachings about God that bring hope and life to one person, but for a different person, cause her to see God as a monster, a thing to dread rather than worship?
And how does the latter person worship alongside a monster-God-lover on Sunday mornings? How could she bring her soul into agreement with her sister’s, joining her in affirming that “God is good,” when each sister’s way of defining God’s goodness is an affront to the other?
In the Christian communities I hang around, where we like to think of God’s sovereign love as rooted in the freedom he grants rather than in the authority he wields, you might hear someone talk about her sister like this: “Her god is not my G-d! Her god is a sadistic puppet master. Her view of God constitutes blasphemy of the Holy Spirit. So she’s not even a real Christian either. If only Jesus were here—oh wait!” And then you get some Bible verses.
Oh, so many times I’ve been this person. I’ve shouted “fuck you Pastor Mark!!” from the Twitter-tops. But wouldn’t you know, it got me in big trouble, and I had to apologize to someone very close to me. Because the difficult truth is that Mark Driscoll and the neo-reformed movement have—gulp—well, they have brought many people closer to the love of Christ.
And this love isn’t a caricature. It’s not a delusion. It’s just not. It’s just not. It’s real. For example, for every family that suffers under the crushing weight of neo-reformed gender roles there is another family that finds release from—let’s just say—addiction, strife, and the prison of self-sufficiency by ordering their lives around the neo-reformed teachings about marriage.
I’m not saying it’s a good teaching. I think it’s horrible stuff. But what do you do with the fact of lives changed, families changed, truly, truly, not just as an affectation or social posture but truly, down to the core, there is now love where there used to be none, and it’s a miracle? What do you do with that?
What do you do when your husband discovers supreme, tear-inducing joy from knowing he is condemned in his horrible sin but Christ has chosen him through grace to be saved from it? Can you call his God-who-chooses a monster, can you say the true love of Christ is not in his heart? You chose to share your life with him because the light of Christ is so beautifully burning in his heart—his faith is so utterly genuine, honest, wise, scripturally-informed, absolutely loving and so obviously Christian.
This is my situation. I have seen lives changed in the crucible of neo-reformed theology. I have seen lives crushed and lives changed, and I don’t know what to do with that. It would be intellectually and spiritually dishonest, not to mention incredibly prideful and condescending, to write off the neo-reformed as being outside orthodoxy, declaring TULIP a heresy, and decrying “their Christ” as a false god—and it would be too easy, too.
Powerful folks are all about “calling each other out” for the cause of preserving some kind of legitimate faith—oh, we do it “in love,” of course!—but even among the peace-lovers it so quickly turns into hard-hearted judgment games, Bible-verse wars to prove who is “in” and who is “out.”
The more Christians I meet the more I am convinced that the struggle for control over who gets to define “legitimate” faith—ehm, often it’s called “theology”—is simply the demonic distraction of powerful men. The beautiful little weird faiths found among the great cloud of witnesses—the people who pastor doesn’t know, but the rest of us do—these are my theology. And when you see theology wrapped up in a real body, with its own legitimate will and its own beautiful heart—neo-reformed as it might be—wow, it’s always hard not to look her in the eye and say, “Well now, there’s Jesus, right there.”
This is what it really looks like to opt-out.