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Bronze doors Schlosskirche, Wittenberg |
Today I watched a good friend — of more than twenty years standing — consecrated as a bishop in the church of God. It was a magnificent occasion in which we were able to celebrate God's continued goodness to his people by his provision of godly, faithful and courageous Christian leadership. The sermon was one of the most inspiring challenges I have heard to put first things first and not to flinch when the pressure is on to do what others would be pleased to see us do. Taking his cue from Acts 6, the preacher (Simon Manchester) reminded us of the apostolic commitment to prayer and the ministry of the word.
And then there were the promises my friend made:
Will you instruct the people committed to your care from the Scriptures, and teach nothing (as required of necessity for eternal salvation) except what you are convinced may be proved by the Scriptures?
Are you ready to drive away all false and strange doctrine which is contrary to God's word; and privately and publicly to call upon and encourage others to do likewise?
Add to these the hymns that were sung. I was struck by the oft-omitted fourth verse of Isaac Watts' 1707 hymn 'When I survey the wondrous cross' (perhaps precisely because it is often omitted — first by George Whitfield in 1757, I believe):
His dying crimson like a robe,
Spreads o'er his body on the tree;
Then I am dead to all the globe,
And all the globe is dead to me.
The final element making this such a grand occasion was the presence in the congregation of many of the old saints who had served Christians in this city (and much further afield) so very well over such a long period of time — men and women who had borne the hostility of the world, disappointment in the churches, opposition from those who should have known better, and through it all had stayed on course, speaking the truth fearlessly and serving God's people humbly, sacrificially, and lovingly.
All of this made me ponder anew on a more general dimming of the gospel light in many churches and church organisations around the world. In some places there seems to have been a discernible neutering of genuine evangelical ministry at a time when it is needed more than ever. So I've decided over the next few months or more to prepare a series of posts on questions for which we need a clear, unambiguous, courageous and truthful answer. If we are not to be diverted from the course set for us in the Scriptures by the promises and insights of every new 'success story' that flies in from other parts, these are questions we should ask. And these are answers we must weigh against the teaching of Scripture itself.
So the first of these is whether there is any value left in identifying ourselves as Protestants. Have we finally accepted that the ecumenists were right? Does a concern for missional unity trump the concerns which led Luther and the others to distinguish themselves from the Church of Rome in the sixteenth century? What should we mean by the term 'catholicity' and can we use it without confusion?
First, the briefest of history lessons. When the Roman Church repudiated Luther and his theology in 1520, the term Protestant was unknown. Luther and his followers certainly did not use it of themselves and at this point neither did others use it of them. Luther kept using the term 'evangelical' to describe his theology, though he much preferred no other adjective to describe himself or those who believed this theology than 'Christian'. Of course his enemies, quick to suggest this was an aberrant, breakaway sect, referred to these 'heretics' as 'Martinists'. The term 'Protestant' properly originates with the Diet of Speyer in 1529, when the German princes presented a formal protestatio in response to the Emperor's insistence on enforcing the Edict of Worms which condemned both Luther and his teaching. These German princes, not Luther, Melanchthon and Zwingli, were the first 'Protestants'. So the term was originally not a repudiation of Roman doctrine so much as a protest at the Roman repudiation of evangelical doctrine. Nevertheless, the term soon became a general term for those whose theology distanced them from the church of Rome, its doctrine and its chief authority, the Pope.
It has become standard to speak of Protestant doctrine as most succinctly summarised in the five solae:
sola scriptura — Scripture alone as the final authority for Christian faith and life [Scripture not tradition or the official pronouncements of the Church. Scripture is its own interpreter.];
sola fide — faith alone as the instrument by which we are justified because we are Christ's [faith not works unites us to Christ and all his benefits. It is faith alone that is necessary for our salvation.];
solus Christus — Christ alone as the one who accomplishes our full and final salvation [Christ is the only mediator between God and man. He is our Saviour not the Church with its sacraments.];
sola gratia — grace alone as the motive for our salvation [grace not merit is the principle by which we are saved. God's unearned favour is shown as he justifies the ungodly];
soli deo gloria — God's glory alone as the goal and driving force of the Christian life [we are not at the centre of the universe and so we seek not our own advantage but the glory of the one who created and redeemed us. Nor do we give glory to Mary, the saints or anyone else.]
For the rest, see:
http://markdthompson.blogspot.com.au/2014/03/dimming-gospel-light-1-can-we-still-be.html
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