A reckoning is upon the protestant evangelical church. Could it be signaling a reformation that’s already underway?
Enmity for the Catholic Church was something I commonly observed in the evangelical community. A community I occupied for nearly forty years. Certainly nothing to the extent or temperature I witnessed in the earlier years of my involvement with this group endured, but the notion Catholicism is way off base still lingers in the perception of a healthy proportion of evangelicals (esp. among those older-Millennial and over). And I would dare say this is reflective of the broader Protestant population in that same generational span. It has been present for centuries.
To see if it lingers in you, note your reaction to the following statement:
Half a millennium beyond the Protestant Reformation, the Roman Catholic Church is standing in better position, and is more poised, to impact the world with the gospel than Protestant evangelicalism, moving ahead in this twenty-first century.
While this is my thesis, so to speak, I am not setting out here to argue it, much less defend it. I am actually proceeding with the belief it is true (a future piece will likely clarify why).
Thus, the purpose of this essay is far less to defend a point, than it is to offer an invitation to those bold enough to make a move. Not a move to Catholicism per se, but rather, simply a move along with Catholicism. Because no matter if my thesis is “true” or not, Catholicism is a few generations into a reformation of its own … one the evangelical community needs to jump in on.
October 11, 2022, will mark sixty years from the opening of the Second Vatican Council (VII), which launched the Catholic reform by framing a new emphasis on world dialogue, Christian ecumenism, human dignity and justice. It re-imagined what the Church could be, in light of the power of the gospel, prompting Catholicism’s move to become a truly “world church” (weltkirche). At least in the estimation of VII participant and prominent twentieth century theologian Karl Rahner.
This piece looks to how themes of VII call the Protestant evangelical community to join in this world church movement through endeavoring to become wholly more missional, relational, and incarnational,[1] not only in relationship to the rest of the Church, but in relationship to the unchurched.
This is to be developed along three angles. The first offers historical context. The next covers the nature and mission of the Church as reflecting the nature and mission of God. Lastly, the importance of valuing personhood over propositional distinctions, in the hierarchy of Christian values, is to be considered.
History and Context
Remember our Lord’s reference to Peter in which he said, “… upon this rock I will build my church …” (Matt 16:18). By this, and throughout the New Testament, that Church was consistently identified in singular terms.[2] An institution of Christ and in Christ, with singular purpose and a singular hope behind it—the gospel.
By this, we appreciate how Jesus commissioned a Body, rather than bodies. He received his Bride, rather than brides.
One Lord. One people. One unity (cf. John 17:20-23).
This Church battled dilution with its Rule of Faith—the bedrock affirmations that became for us our great Creeds.[3]
Across a millennium of challenges, tenuously at times (barely at others), the Church maintained oneness, through remaining anchored to these conciliar affirmations. That is, until 1053, when dueling excommunications brought schism upon her.
Roughly five centuries later and five centuries ago, the Church faced a call for change, when change was sorely needed. This period served as a harbinger for correction, bringing to light the abuses of a Church that had wandered far afield from its nature and mission. Fresh forms and new expressions of Christian practice developed. Many were, likewise, desperately needed.
And despite the fruits of this Reformation, it forecast a concerning future—a Church that would become more and more divided.
Fences fell along theological and ecclesiological lines. Under political and nationalistic influences, the fences became walls. The aftermath sees the one (still today) becoming many.
Currently, the world is presented with a Church in broader disunity than any prior point, with offsetting Protestant evangelical denominations virtually beyond count.
The division was particularly amplified in post-Revolution America, where the quest for personal liberty drove a Christian identity resistant to trained clerics and ecclesial order, thus creating gravitation toward a highly democratized, populist brand of faith. While enthusiasm for revivalism saw thousands “saved,” across the mid-1800s, it was a time of deep irony.[4]
Historian Nathan Hatch explains how this democratized Christianity brought unrealistic hope and unfulfilled expectations for eliminating distinctions between leaders and followers.[5] Doors opened to “religious demagogues,” and in its quest to discard formal theology, the church was driven further asunder.[6]
Hundreds of sects sprouted, along with several pseudo-Christian movements.[7] In the hands of firebrands, anti-intellectualism became a prominent feature of the revivalist church,[8] a discordant influence the evangelical tradition has been, as of yet, unable to shake. At least broadly speaking.
Consequently, twentieth century churches discovered how unprepared and out of position they were to respond to the rapid succession of cultural shifts brought about by the Enlightenment. Fundamentalists circled the wagons, withdrawing from social engagement. Liberal Protestants made core theological concessions to accommodate change.[9]
And more division followed.
Later evangelicals would try to distance themselves from fundamentalist separatism. It amounted only to a change of strategy and not necessarily posture. For it did little to assuage the inbred suspicion of society, as showcased in the culture warring still waged today.
Meanwhile, the Roman Catholic Church, as it had for centuries, remained aloof toward cultural currents, satisfied with looking inward, mired in admiration of the ancient, Latinized, conservative and exclusivist approach to its own Western brand of religiosity.
Yet, the winds of a nouvelle théologie stirred around Catholicism into the middle part of the twentieth century. And something rather historic occurred. Shocking even the Catholic world, Pope John XXIII summoned the twenty-first ecumenical council. We call it Vatican II.
With its focus set upon change, the broadest trunk of the Christian tree made a drastic move to become less authoritarian and more collaborative, by turning outward in search for engagement with different viewpoints, so as to seize common ground with the “other” and team with those beyond itself toward the good of all humanity.[10]
This starkly contrasted both the approach and tenor of prior councils and their fixation on do’s and don’ts, and/or who’s in and who’s out.
Catholicism of the 1960’s observed it’s bishops turn to face culture and imagine what it would take to make a better world for its inhabitants. This is why the aforementioned Rahner was enthused by the emergence of a world church. The insistence upon ecumenical dialogue with other Christians was established. Also, there was a concerted effort to recast Catholic theology in a way which presented the least possible difficulties for Protestants and evangelicals. It was as inspiring a change of approach as (perhaps) one could have hoped for in the world at that time.[11]
VII also sought discourse with other religions and secular spheres with this conviction at heart: Gospel potential is strengthened in unity and weakened by division.
With a more hopeful and humble posture than any time in its history, the Church of Rome sought to engage the flourishing and social posture of every human, the world over, in concert with other Christians.[12] And they aimed to do it all without severing ties with their core doctrinal convictions.
Now, the rest of the Church must ask itself … Can we not—should we not—follow their lead?
The Nature and Mission of God Reflected by a Fractured Church
It’s far easier to appreciate a reflection from a mirror that is whole versus one that has been fractured into pieces, separated by significant distance and set and angles often opposed.
The Church’s nature and mission is to reflect the nature and mission of God. Like the broken, distant, and offset remnants of the latter mirror, however, it is failing to adequately do so. I would argue it’s not even close.
In fact, if one were to imagine God based upon the fragmentation of the Church, it is chilling to think of the grotesquery their mind may cobble together, as it works to fill in the spaces between fragments.
The Godhead’s oneness is taught by Christ who stated, “I and the Father are one” (John 10:30). So too is their unity affirmed by Creeds declaring the consubstantiality of Father and Son, with Spirit proceeding from them.[13]
One God, three distinct Persons, each eternally uncreated and unlimited. Yet each of one essence, life, purpose, and a singular will,[14] most dramatically expressed through the divine sacrifice of Calvary. It is the assurance of salvation for the totality of humanity across the ages—our precious gospel.
One truth and one hope … sadly being reflected by too many fragments and with too many gaps to color in.
A new reformation demands we reconsider how a Church divided is reflecting the nature of God.
And repent!
Can we rightly claim to be of one purpose, and one will, with so many different identities and priorities? Does this variance not defy the Trinitarian “diversity of unity,” which the Church must strive again to reflect? It is a paradox which expresses the autonomous unity in the Persons of the Trinity modeling oneness to a diverse, but undivided, Church.[15]
Nevertheless, “divide” permeates our DNA. Once again, change is desperately needed.
Paul taught, as if God were making an appeal to humanity through the Church, “We are ambassadors for Christ” (2 Cor. 5:20). Nothing about this is an appeal to separate identities. Rather, we are accredited with power and authority as representatives of one Kingdom, carrying out a singular assignment, or “mission” (a term expressing the total dynamic of the [one] Church’s existence).[16]
In this, we are meant to engage as one people and one holy Nation (1 Pet. 2:9). All believers are the global citizenry of that shared identity. It is a calling and a destiny beyond the borders of the spiritual nation-states our denominational identities have become. Or should I say reduced us to.
Once we eliminate the justification for disunity in our nature, we are left to confront this question: Can the Church’s singular mission flourish in the midst our division?
Of course not.
The obvious reason is in Jesus’ warning that any nation divided inevitably falls (Matt. 12:25). And where disunity has weakened the potential of the gospel message, our hope must be in salvaging a gospel once again held in the heart, and lived in the lives, of a unified Church.
This is VII’s hope for the common good of the entire world.
So, in anticipation of genuine gospel impact, let us move beyond “missions” that resort to claiming the spiritual high ground, “[preaching] only a gospel of personal forgiveness and salvation without the radical challenge of the full biblical demands of … justice and compassion.”[17] Because, says Christopher Wright, “if faith without works is dead, mission without social compassion and justice is biblically deficient."[18]
Key to this understanding, the Protestant Kevin Van Hoozer admits, is that loving and sharing truth are far more important than being in possession of it.[19]
Agreeing, I wonder to what extent purpose arises when we discern opportunities for connecting the Christian story to meeting the practical and spiritual needs of our broken and complex world, over prescribing our “right” beliefs as the litmus for others.
Full gospel potential is recoverable when we uncover our nature as people of God, by coming to appreciate that all humanity is the people of God. Seems like this will lead the Church to start living as a people dedicated to going beyond propositional fences, into a world of image, telling the story of a Redeemer who is the hope and healing for the world over.
Additionally, we must ask whether resisting the impulse to reduce Scripture to a set of ecclesial or moral prescriptions is even possible at this point. The narratives have power to burst beyond our doctrinal confines if we are generous enough to accept they are neither a Roman Catholic nor Protestant evangelical story, but our Christian story … representing our unity.
I like how the semiotician Leonard Sweet frames it. Namely, as we approach the Word, let us do so more as a table, a place to gather for nourishment and connection, than as a tablet, a thing of “inked” principles and propositional do’s and don’ts.[20]
Because the reduction of biblical truth to explicit knowledge sets (propositions) deprives a hurting world of the majesty of the gospel. So too does it inhibit the growth of an intuitive knowledge of the Holy, gained via the loving exchange of lived out experiences.
When the Church collectively loves its members and extends that love by giving compassion to humanity, especially the marginalized, we reflect the Trinity and the image God created in each of us.[21]
Do evangelicals have, within their heart for the gospel, the desire to step toward unity? To meet their Catholic friends, and recast a theology with as few as possible propositional difficulties for them … or for others?
If so, we must be cautions to understand how just telling the story is not enough. For this story is to be lived forth relationally. It is a crucial aspect of such a hopeful, redemptive narrative.
This is why all believers must strive toward a world church model, so as to participate as one people, incarnate to their world. Are Protestant evangelicals at a place where it’s presently possible to see other Christians, say Orthodox and/or Catholics, in such living community?
And what about Jews, Muslims, Hindus, or any other world religion? What about new agers, naturalists, or atheists? What about progressives? The LGBTQ+ community?
This relational mindset calls us to be that holy Nation. It will not allow us to become distant, viewing John 17:14 (the “in the world but not of the world” passage) through lenses of exclusion and superiority.
We, Catholics and Protestant evangelicals alike, must stress a Christianity that is not a culture unto itself, but something incarnate in all cultures, just as Jesus was not merely in the world, but living and walking, incarnate, among its people (John 1:14).
This is why the incarnate Christ was so attractional. He was in gravity with others—drawn to them as they were to him.
We can be as well, if we are prepared to jettison that which turns seekers away, like our borders, our obstinacy, and our mastery at “othering.”
Can we pledge ourselves to the true nature of a similarly incarnate Church, not merely existing as separate people within a community, but missional and relational inhabitants among these neighbors whom we are commanded to love, even as he has loved us (John 13:34)?
Can we join in the initiative of “catalyzing what Jesus is already doing,” among those in our midst?[22] This is Jonathan Herbert’s “accompaniment approach,” which hopes to eliminate fear-driven separatism and the individualized isolation of the “cliques” we have been prone to, and seeks to repair the “torn fabric of our world.”[23]
Nature and Formation of the Human Person: Theological Anthropology as a Starting Point
A reformation of unity for the Church demands seeing others and ourselves as one. This is fundamental to Imago Dei and appreciating the divine intent of Genesis 1 and 2, not so much as the creation of a human, but a humankind.
Thus, insofar as the Imago is present in any, it is present in all.
To this end, we look to God as the ground of our being, only finding God more so to be the ground of the value of our being.[24] Leaving no space for superiority, this reality is most beautifully expressed when believers take a heartfelt look toward others, realizing two things: Jesus loves you just like he does me; and “I need you so that I can truly be myself.”[25]
The spirit formation of every person starts in the light of that powerful identity, anticipating the beauty in the Greatest Commandment. It opens our eyes to the value of “you and I” becoming “we” and will serve to heal disunity in the Church.
It seeds the hopeful expectation for dialogue with communities beyond—local to global—because the fear and suspicion of “other” is abolished.
In such light there radiates a facet of Christian anthropology wholly ecological in nature, illuminating for us how the Imago is more forcefully portrayed by our actions than our positions.[26]
Therefore, impact on the world around is relationally measured more by how we are being than what we are believing.
This perspective invites investment, says Sweet, wherein we find ourselves in proximity to those around us in a way that truly opens us to what God is up to in their lives and nudges us to join in.[27]
None of this argues right belief and practice are meaningless. To the contrary, the Imago is reflected in the alignment between the two and genuine (not propositional) morality; meaning not at the expense of its presence in freedom, spiritual perception, connectedness to God, virtues, dignity, connection to the natural world, reason, creativity, personal uniqueness, community, mystery, and life.[28]
Turning lastly to dialogue, we note “community” and “communication” are of the same root, meaning, “shared by the many.”[29]
Valuing the many promotes ecological blossoming in our own personhood. How we “act” toward another most fundamentally begins with how we speak to one another.
When we respect the destructive power of the tongue, we deduce the unifying potential of winsome interaction.[30] With such power, a biblical anthropology stresses care not only for our words, but also for our meaning. An ecological imperative of Godly speech is to start with avoiding lies and the mistruths so causally smuggled over as “proper” theology, coopted to nostalgia, altruism, relativistic identities, social grievances, and/or political narratives.[31]
Negatively, that approach has become the foundation of “othering,” in that the mechanism of our angst is rooted in inaccurate, exaggerated, dispassionate comparisons. The sort that degrades others with a lack of empathy for their perspective, via the hyper-inflation of the value of our own.
We would do well to accept how certain manners and tendencies of communication, then, rob us of the ability to see others sharing divine value, no matter the propositions they hold. Or, to put it another way … noting how blind we become when reducing the value of others to the standards of “who thinks what.”[32]
Christian history demonstrates this is at the root of our division. It’s been a past struggle for me as well.
A Reason to Hope
Disunity in the American Church is weakening the gospel’s potential reach and impact. This Country is increasingly ascending lists of the most fertile mission fields on the planet, while many believers are descending farther into echo chambers of extra-gospel ideologies, expanding the divides among communities, in denominations, congregations, and inter-personal relationships.
This is especially noted among the more conservative ranks of the evangelical community.
While this is a claim that likely sparks defensiveness in many, myriad observers and studies confirm it is so. So too have they diagnosed common culprits for the slide into irrelevance, further punctuating how rugged independence defies the nature of the Church by failing to reflect the nature of God.
In cognitive and spiritual dissonance, scores are leaving, or have already.[33]
The timing of this post finds me recently among them. It also finds me among many moving on to High-Church traditions. In my case, in fact, a return to my Roman Catholic heritage.
In my journey from evangelicalism, many have expressed appreciation for me as a voice that captures their sentiments, questions, and concerns with Protestant evangelicalism. These are people whose faith is strong, but their suspicion of the church is growing stronger. These are those who are already connecting these themes and longing for something beyond the practice and identity being embraced by their faith circles.
They see themselves, Christianity, and more importantly Jesus, as something that cannot be cloistered in fortress walls.
Theirs is a reformation of thought about who they are, and an awakening of who they know we, as the Church, should be.
(This greatly excites me!)
Alternatively, I have also been a party to the rich and refreshing dialogue that exists among (especially) younger folks who want to change the Protestant evangelical ethos, but not defect from it.
Likewise, I am meeting a surprising number of Catholics, themselves refugees of the evangelical circle, who are similarly seeking opportunities for community engagement and dialogue with the world around (Christianity and beyond).
Both groups recognize strong points of contact in their shared faith and lived Christian experiences and are longing to demolish the walls between, so they may fortify the bridges.
I recognize restoration of the Church’s unity is a tall order. But as a historical theologian, I also recognize (at least in some significant part) the Reformation began with one monk’s ninety-five talking points and the hopes for dialogue. And, also as a historical theologian, I am unable to forget we all live our lives in the context of one very “tall” God.
These days constitute a time of reckoning for the Protestant evangelical portion of the Church, as it was five hundred years ago for the Catholic Church. Perhaps five centuries from now history will verify Reformation 2.0 is already underway—launched with VII.
The first Reformation left us with becoming “many.” Can another return us to being “One?” It can if the reformations in Catholicism, over the last few generations, finds other Christians ready meet them at the fence line.
I see very solid reason that hope lays ahead. It may be generations beyond me (and I have a lot of personal work to do with regards to all this as well), but it’s out there.
It’s coming, Church!
NOTES:
[1] From the MRI model proposed in works by Leonard Sweet. There is very close similarity between what Sweet and Rahner imagine in these favorited terms (MRI/Weltkirche). [2] Exceptions would be the speaker/writer referencing a particular or local assembly within the broader Church, e.g., the church at Corinth, the church at Laodicea, etc. [3] Specifically, the Nicene/Constantinopolitan and Apostle’s Creed. The Rule of Faith, spoken of by Tertullian and, earlier, Irenaeus, were very similar to the even earlier statements of Christian faith known as the Old Roman Form (Sometimes the Old Roman Symbol), which is taken from the baptismal confessions declared by converts to the earliest Church, in the generations that still included the Apostles. [4] Nathan O. Hatch, The Democratization of American Christianity, (New Haven CT: Yale University Press, 1991), 16. [5] Hatch, Democratization, 16. [6] Hatch, Democratization, 16. [7] Such as Mormonism, Jehovah’s Witnesses, Christian Scientism, etc. [8] George M. Marsden, Fundamentalism and American Culture (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), 212. [9] Gary Dorrien, The Making if American Liberal Theology: Imagining Progressive Religion (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2001), xxiii. [10] John W. O'Malley, What Happened at Vatican II (Cambridge, MA: Harvard Univ. Press, 2008), 307-308. [11] O'Malley, What Happened, 308. Let note apply to entire paragraph. [12] O'Malley, What Happened, 297. [13] Nicaean Creed. [14] Athanasian Creed. [15] Veli-Matti Karkkainen, An Introduction to Ecclesiology (Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2002), 20. [16] Paul S. Minear, Images of the Church in the New Testament, (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2004), 63. [17] Christopher J. H. Wright, The Mission of God (Downers Grover: IVP Academic, 2006). 288. [18] Wright, The Mission, 288. [19] Kevin J. Van Hoozer, “Letter to an Aspiring Theologian: How to Speak of God Truly,” First Things (Aug/Sept 2018). [20] Leonard Sweet, From Tablet to Table: Where Community Is Found and Identity Is Formed (Colorado Springs: NavPress, 2015), 64. [21] Todd W. Hall and M. E. L. Hall, Spiritual Relationality (Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2021), 70. [22] Leonard Sweet, Nudge (Colorado Springs: David C. Cook, 2010), 124. [23] Jonathan Herbert, Accompaniment, Community, and Nature (London: Jessica Kinglsey Publishers, 2020), 18. [24] Stanley Grenz, Theology for the Community of God (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1994), 154. [25] Todd W. Hall and M. E. L. Hall, Spiritual Relationality (Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2021), 70. [26] Craig L. Blomberg, “True Righteousness and Holiness,” in The Image of God in an Image Driven Age, eds. Beth Felker Jones and Jeffrey W. Barbeau (Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2016), 71. [27] Sweet, Nudge, 29. [28] Nona Verne Harrison, God’s Many Splendored Image: Theological Anthropology for Christian Formation (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2010), 5. [29] Lat. Communis. [30] Cf. James 3:6. [31] Marilyn McIntyre, Caring for Words in a Culture of Lies (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009), 57-64. I added significantly to this line of thought, but built the point upon that made by McIntyre. [32] Marshall B. Rosenberg, Nonviolent Communication (Encinitas, CA: Puddle Dancer Press, 2015), 15. [33] It can be rightly said the church in American, generally speaking, is in decline. That point will be conceded, however, there appears to be a very steep decline among PECs. For interesting examination of the dynamics, see Packard and Hope, Church Refugees: Sociologists Reveal Why People Are DONE with Church but Not Their Faith. Loveland, CO: Group Publishing, 2015.
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