The devil he is

If the devil exists, he pesters you with doubts. One of his tricks, if he exists, is to get to you to doubt even his existence. In which case, if he doesn’t exist, then attack was merely a projection of something in you. He has no power; it is a toothless attack. Ha!

But wait. Weren’t you just a minute ago convinced that he, or something like him, was real? Didn’t you hear him speaking to you, as sure as eggs? Now you say he doesn’t exist! Can you trust yourself, then, to know reality from fantasy? Isn’t it you, in fact, who is unravelling?

You’re on a roll now. Did that dark thought you had never conceived before emerge from the sweaty locker rooms of your own soul? That plausible devil: he’s your own creation, then?

These are the wiles of the devil or some of ‘em.

*

Put on the whole armour of God, so that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. (Ephesians 6:11-12)

If only the experience of wrestling with doubt was as dramatic as it sounds in Ephesians 6. Paul makes us imagine the Christian striding out like Luke Skywalker to clash light sabres with the devil. He is easy to spot because he wears black and rides a Harley, and has some serious tattooing on his right arm about how he'll dismember the mothers of those who stand in his way.

But that's not how it goes. The devil – if it is him - always comes in disguise. Even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light. Or, as something less than an angel of light. He speaks reasonably to reasonable people. He makes a good deal of quiet sense, in a completely perverse way. His talk has, (as Rowan Williams puts it) an 'Escher-like quality, landscapes turning inwards on themselves in visual but plausible absurdity.' It's the kind of remorseless, undefeatable logic that drives you to insanity.

Ivan Fyodorovich Karamazov is the most rationalistic and agnostic of the three Karamazov brothers in Dostoyevsky's great novel, The Brothers Karamazov. Yet it is he who has a nightmarish encounter with the devil. The devil comes to him in the guise of a rather ingratiating and certainly not very frightening middle-aged man, looking a little down on his luck. He's a ‘banal devil’, a 'sponger'. Is he a vision, or is he real? Does he have an independent existence, or is he a parasite (a ‘sponger’) on Ivan's fevered imagination? Does he come from within Ivan, or from some source without? Ivan says to him:

I sometimes don't see you, and don't even hear your voice, as last time, but I always guess what you're driveling because it is I, I myself who am talking and not you!'

So, the challenge is for the devil to produce a thought in Ivan that he has never thought before. He says:

Though I am your hallucination, even so, as in a nightmare, I say original things, such as have never entered your head before, so that I’m not repeating your thoughts at all, and yet I am merely your nightmare and nothing more.

He is prepared to concede to not existing, for then he would have triumphed.

Paul dramatises the battle in Ephesians 6 exactly because this clash doesn't look obvious. He calls it a war because it looks like a friendly chat. It is hard to see it for what it is. The nature of this confrontation is that it always makes you wonder whether there actually is a confrontation. It talks to you of your own hysteria.

Devoted Conference

This new conference looks really exciting. Devoted conference is planned to be an annual event celebrating the Puritans.

This year they are looking at Owen and Baxter. These guys will be hard acts to follow!

Marilynne Robinson: 'Absence of Mind'

Apologies to regular readers of this blog for my loss of blogging mojo lately. I guess what with weekly posts at Anglican Media and a monthly article in Eternity magazine I have been reaching my output limit. In other news, a book that Tom Frame and I have co-authored on the 39 Articles is hitting the presses soon - and should be out in a couple of months.

I am a huge fan of author Marilynne Robinson, whose novels Home and Gilead were for me the discoveries of 2008/9. But Robinson is an extraordinary essayist, too.

Her latest offering Absence of Mind is a brilliant and profound reflection on the 'problem of mind' which seems to feature strongly in what she calls 'parascientific' literature - by which she means the writings of Dawkins, Pinkers, Dennett and co. Robinson calls them on their reductionistic accounts of human thought - do not the history of art, literature and music tell against them at every point?

It is an immensely subtle book, and I see I am going to have to re-read it. Nuts. But her basic thesis is something like this:

Those who claim to dismiss the mind/body dichotomy actually perpetuate it when they exclude the mind's self-awareness from among the data of human nature. p. 118

Ponder that.

Seven Sins of Sydney

I had this thought for a series entitled: the Seven Sins of Sydney.

The idea would be to really ask: what are the deep moral faultlines that run through the city we love? Let's not be trite about this. You could say 'Greed', but the trick would be to nail down excatly how greed is expressed in Sydney, and not elsewhere.

It sounds, in a way, a pompous project. But is no different than Tim Friedman's songs which skewer Sydney's pride, and its shallowness, and its greed.

Question is: what are the Seven Sins?

Here's a sketch:

1 - The Pursuit of Space - It's built on a wholesale theft of Real Estate. We clamber over one another to get a slice of the view...
2 - Loyalty to Mates - it trumps every other value...
3 - Excessive Punishment - from the flogging parson on...
4 - Brawling
5 - Confusing the Penultimate for the Ultimate
6 - Work till you drop
7 - Smutty little secrets - Sydney and sex...

Any others?

Talking about Progressive Christianity

I participated in an ABC show about 'Progressive Christianity' and you can listen to it here:


http://www.abc.net.au/rn/encounter/stories/2010/2924630.htm


The fascinating thing to me about Progressive Christianity is the apparent contradiction between the radical sceptism to the point of paranoia about orthdox Christianity on the one hand and the gullible blind faith about the claims of the Jesus Seminar on the other. Or: the contradiction between the extreme rationalism on which it is founded (disbelief in miracles, for example) and the extreme fideism about other beliefs that are held.

5 reasons why I don't like lists of Bible verses

Often writers of theological essays will pull out a statement and then offer a list of bible verses to back it up, in brackets. People seem to think this is indicative of how scripturally based a piece of theology is. I don't like this. Why?

1. Instead of drawing my attention to the text of Scripture, it actually makes me skip over it and move on. It makes me think I know the Bible when I don't.

2. SO OFTEN, when I look up the verses in a list, they don't say what the author claims they self-evidently say. Or, they say it in a very, very different way. Or, a subtle point is lost.

3. It looks messy. (OK, that's not so important!)

4. It treats the Bible like a bank of data to be mined, and not a narrative of salvation-history.

5. It means a tendency to prefer 'direct-statement' evidence in theological argument over the testimony of say, the character of God revealed in his might acts, or the nature of the literary context.

A great example of this is Is 45:7.

I form the light and create darkness,
I bring prosperity and create disaster;
I, the LORD, do all these things.



Which apparently looks like it charges God with direct agency in evil. I've seen it cited in lists of bible references as a proof text to this end. But this short-cuts an enormously complex and very serious exegetical AND theological discussion which needs to be had... don't it?



What I do instead is that I try to quote the actual words of a particular text, and refer to those. Not without its own difficulties, but I think it is preferable.

my piece on SRE

My piece on SRE is here.

The usual enlightened comments follow.

Katay clears the air

Great idea.

You wouldn't believe some of the baloney I've heard said about this guy over the years.

Article in National Times... on Artifical Life

Playing God?


The fun thing about this was that it was a facebook collaboration! I asked for help and got great insights and interesting links. Thanks to Chris Wark, Chris Stafferton and Mike Higton.

Unspeakable Comfort

Here's some Weekend Away talks I am planning. Happy for feedback- why else does one have a blog?


‘UNSPEAKABLE COMFORT’: The Sovereignty of God and the Christian Life
There is unspeakable comfort – the sort of comfort that energizes, be it said, not enervates – in knowing that God is constantly taking knowledge of me in love and watching over me for my good. – JI Packer

While our neighbours talk about luck or destiny, the usual response of Christians to a significant crisis in life is to appeal to God’s sovereignty. We respond to crisis or accident or disease with ‘God is in control’, as if that by itself were a comforting truth.

It is important to know that life is not “just a bunch of stuff that happens”, to use the immortal words of Homer J. Simpson. But if God is remorseless, or uncaring, or - worse – malevolent, then his being in control becomes anything but a comfort to us in affliction. After all, if God is in control, then how do we not blame him for my friend’s depression, or the fatal car accident, or whatever it is?

This series of talks will address one of the Bible’s greatest themes: the sovereignty of God. It will show what it means for us to say ‘God is in control’. We will think about how and where he has shown us this control; and we will see how it changes everything about the way we live.


1. The Comfort of Sovereign Love

2. The Grace of Sovereign Choice

3. The Peace of Sovereign Power

4. The Joy of Sovereign Hope

Article on John Foxe in Eternity Mag

Article on John Foxe in Eternity Mag

Crisis? What Crisis?

It would not do, if one were writing an apostolic letter today, to speak so imprecisely about ‘this present crisis’, as Paul does in 1 Cor 7: 26, and expect to be understood. The twenty-first century began with an act of violence that its perpetrators wished to invest with apocalyptic symbolism that was hard to misread. The decade since has been one of ‘wars and rumours of wars’. So-called ‘rogue states’ have started nuclear weapons programmes. The Global Financial Crisis of 2008, deemed worthy of and recognised everywhere by its own three-letter acronym (GFC), continues to unravel the world’s prosperity. Perhaps most ominous of all, human-induced climate change haunts contemporary politics and economics. There is no shortage of crises; and each doomsday scenario has its prophets who are willing to recount humanity’s collective sins and to point to the way in which our punishment is coming, and speedily. The question the contemporary world has to grapple with is not so much deciding whether or not there is a crisis but which crisis to confront as a matter of first priority.

While the language and tropes of religious apocalyptic have been commandeered
by contemporary prophetic movements, there is simultaneously a hostility to the use of apocalyptic and eschatological rhetoric in its original setting. In fact, the eschatological impulse from within religion is itself held in part responsible for a number of the impending crises. The secularist apocalyptic nightmare involves those inspired by religious visions of the future wreaking disaster on the present. Forty years ago, Jürgen Moltmann wrote that
Always the protest against the Christian hope and against the transcendent consciousness resulting from it has stubbornly insisted on the rights of the present, on the good that surely lies always to hand, and on the eternal truth in every moment.
It is now not merely that Christian hope ‘cheats man of the happiness of the present’ ; it is that Christian hope is accused, along with other religious accounts of hope, of making his present tenuous and fearful. An account of the good (and so, the good life) that places the human life in the context of the eschatological, and most especially in the realm of the apocalyptic, is unlikely to be recognised generally as such. This is the seriousness of the difficulty confronting the Christian ethicist today.

The Catechist launched!

An exciting new web magazine has just been launched by students from Moore College:

The Catechist.

The first issue is on "Forgiveness and Reconciliation in the Real World".

Union with Christ in Karl Barth

In Barth, the theme of unio Christi is not explicitly addressed until late in the fourth volume of the Church Dogmatics. He places it under the heading of ‘Vocation’. As is well known, Barth’s soteriology is profoundly christocentric. Reconciliation with God can only be found in Christ, who is the locus for all the themes of reconciliation: election, justification, sanctification and so on. For Barth, the role of union with Christ is circumscribed by his insistence on the actual moments of event, decision and personal encounter, on the one hand; and, on the other, his emphasis on the objective work and experience of Christ as opposed to the human response of faith and obedience.

Barth is no mystic, and so is determined to distinguish himself from the charge. He deploys the term ‘fellowship’. He emphasises that the Christian’s relationship to Jesus Christ is one of ‘encounter’ or ‘confrontation’ . ‘We have’, he writes, ‘and encounter in time between two personal partners who do not lose but keep their identity and particularity in this encounter’ (IV.3.2.547). Union with Christ does not involved an extension of the incarnation, but rather a response to the prophetic call of Jesus Christ through the Holy Spirit. ‘The Christian’s union with Christ consists in this dynamic relationship of call and response, in which the Christian is voluntarily united with Christ in will and action, knows the self to be justified and sanctified in Christ, and awakens to his or her genuine humanity’ (Evans, p. 244). Barth’s objectivism – a response to the subjective experientialism of his forebears – means that he can only distinguish the Christian from the non-Christian by dint of knowledge of the work of Christ. Evans concludes:
...for Barth’s view of the unio Christi, act has replaced state and condition, reconciliation accomplished has to a considerable degree overshadowed redemption applied, and the extra nos has eclipsed the intra nos. In short, “union with Christ”... has been largely replaced by “reconciliation already in Christ”.

Charles Hodge and Unio Christi

In the midst of a battle for the very soul of American Christianity, Charles Hodge of Princeton was a defender of Reformed Orthodoxy over and against even Calvin, where necessary. In response to a subjectivism which emphasised the inner life, he pushed the elements of federalism to the extreme, especially by emphasising the extrinsic elements of the system. In speaking of original sin, for example, Hodge sought to make the federal union – that representative relationship – independent of hereditary considerations. Adam’s posterity is sinful by dint of his federal headship in which they are united, rather than the natural union of physical descent. The key notion is ‘imputation’, which for Hodge does not indicate either personal identity with nor mutual participation in. It is an extrinsic and legal issue.

In soteriology, Hodge is keen to affirm the central place that union with Christ has. Through union with Christ by faith the benefits of Christ are received by the Christian enture. This union is firstly a ‘federal union’ which has its basis in the pretemporal covenant of redemption between the first and second persons of the Godhead. This union is must be realised in the lives of the covenant people. For Hodge, then, ‘there is a federal union rooted in the eternal covenant of redemption, and the legal benefits promised by this covenant and merited by the work of Christ are imputed through faith to the believer in an extrinsic relationship. Any source or locus of legal of legal merit, such as the humanity of Christ, remains utterly outside the Christian. There is a vital or spiritual union, in which the believer receives the Holy Spirit as a representative of Christ, a Christ who is most certainly absent with respect to his humanity’ (Evans, p. 208).

As far as the ordo salutis goes, Hodge posits a temporal as well as a logical order in redemption. Regeneration gives rise to faith, which is then the legal instrument of a legal union with Christ (hence justification). Following this, the Holy Spirit is imparted which makes for the spiritual union with Christ experienced in sanctification. Justification is a single moment in time – whereas sanctification is a progressive work. Here is Hodge:

As soon, however, as it exercises faith, it receives the imputation of the righteousness of Christ, God’s justice is thereby satisfied, and the Spirit comes and takes up his dwelling in the believer as the source of all holy living. There can therefore be no holiness until there is reconciliation with God, and no reconciliation with God except through the righteousness imputed to us and received by faith alone. Then follow the indwelling of the Spirit, progressive sanctification, and all the fruits of holy living. (Systematic Theology, III:172)

Union with Christ in Federal Calvinism

(reference: William B. Evans, Imputation and Impartation)

In the era of Reformed Orthodoxy, however, the ordo salutis becomes an increasingly prominent feature of theological schemas. Whereas Calvin held the extrinsic and forensic union with Christ together with the experience of the transforming work of the Holy Spirit, these now become separate moments in the ‘golden chain’ of salvation. The notion of the ‘substantial’ union of the believer with Christ drops out, and is replaced by theories of ‘virtual communion’ – which is to say, union with Christ is elided with the benefits formerly ascribed to union with Christ – receiving the forensic benefits of salvation and experiencing the transforming work of the Holy Spirit. This can be seen in the work of John Owen, for example.

The rise of the ordo salutis in the early seventeenth century was in the first instance a device designed to counter problems of personal assurance. In order to preserve the sheer graciousness of justification, it was separated from sanctification and placed in a different dogmatic locus. Salvation is not now the organic unity that is observable in Calvin’s work; it becomes a series of acts.

What this means is it the unio Christi becomes bifurcated in federal theology. The union with Christ that results in justification is a forensic relationship by which Christ as the federal head passes on his righteousness by imputation to the believer. The union that passes on the transforming benefits of the Holy Spirit is another By the time of Samuel Rutherford (1600-1661), writing in the mid-seventeenth century, different unions with Christ are beings distinguished – ‘Legal’, on the one hand, and ‘Mystical’, on the other. Further, the adoption of the federal terminology stressed the extrinsic, especially with regards to imputation.

In a parallel movement, the piety of the Puritans also utilized ‘union with Christ’ as an idea, and exerted its own influence on Reformed theology. Calvin’s notion of the union with the humanity of Christ as the means by which redemption is applied to us disappears; and in its place the humanity of Christ becomes an object of devotion. The sacraments feature less and less as a means by which Christ’s presence is mediated to the believers, and instead Puritan piety turns inward to find the activity and reality of Christ.

Union with Christ

The unio mystica sive praesentia gratiae tantum, the ‘mystical union’ or ‘union by the presence of grace alone’ refers to the special union ‘founded on the indwelling grace of God in Christ, that occurs between God and the believer in and through regeneration’ (Muller). It is a consistent feature of orthodox Reformed and Lutheran theological dogmatics. Remarkably given its prominence in the New Testament, it hadn't been the stimulus for much theological reflection prior to this - perhaps because sacramental theology was doing the 'work' that it now does in Protestant thinking.

The term ‘mystical’ is used because it rests on the mystery of grace and the mercy of God. It is also referred to as the unio spiritualis because this union is of the Spirit. The believer’s ingrafting into Christ constitutes the foundation of the Christian life. A number of New Testament metaphors are picked up in this teaching (vine,/branches, body/head) and also the en Christo terminology which appears so often. The believer’s individuality is not dissolved or thwarted in this union. Rather, it is the work of the Holy Spirit which produces faith and enables the believers to share in the blessings of the work of Christ.

John Murray observed that "Union with Christ is a very inclusive subject. It embraces the wide span of salvation from the ultimate source in the eternal election of God to its final fruition in the glorification of the elect." If we may observe one thing about how the doctrine has been treated in the Reformed tradition it might be that this very inclusivity and breadth makes it difficult to locate in the dogmatic system. It operates rather as the connective tissue between various doctrinal topics - as a motif rather than as a doctrine itself. Furthermore, the language of ‘union’ with Christ has led inevitably to some misconstruals.

IN CALVIN
Calvin scholars like Alister McGrath and Charles Partee have latterly recognised how pervasive and comprehensive Calvin’s doctrine of the unio mystica is. According to McGrath, Calvin utilises the concept of the distinctio sed non separatio drawn from Chalcedonian Christology. That is: the separateness yet distinction of the two natures in the hypostatic union is, for Calvin, the pattern for divine-human relationship found also in the unio mystica. Though the doctrine relates to the doctrines of justification and sanctification and how the believer receives these benefits of Christ’s death, the doctrine is also profoundly Trinitarian.

The basis for our union with Christ is the electing will of God the Father who chooses us ‘in Christ’ before the foundation of the world. Our union with Christ is an expression of the love and mercy of God himself (Inst II xvi.4); and in union with Christ we are brought into relationship with God through the Spirit of adoption, thereby experiencing the paternal love of God the Father. Calvin will refer to Christ himself as ‘the bond of our union with God’.

Calvin writes:
By partaking of him, we principally receive a double grace: namely that being reconciled to God through Christ’s blamelessness, we may have in heaven instead of a Judge a gracious Father; and secondly, that sanctified by Christ’s Spirit we may cultivate blamelessness and purity of life. (Inst III.11.1)

Union with Christ thus has a twin focus for Calvin. From union with Christ flow both justification – which occurs externally to the believer – and sanctification – which occurs internally. Not only is the forensic imputation of righteousness accomplished through union with Christ, but the life of Christ is also imparted to the believer as the basis for his or her sanctification. Both justification and sanctification are, as Evans writes, ‘subsumed under a more comprehensive reality – union with Christ.’ It is possible even to go so far as to conclude that the notion of unio Christi has for Calvin a causal priority in his soteriological thought. Justification is not dependent on sanctification, nor is it a response to justification.

In what does the union with Christ consist? Calvin holds that believers are united with the incarnate humanity of Christ. Christ’s mediatorial work and the benefits that flow from it – including, for Calvin, the imputation of Christ’s righteousness - are received by union with the substantia of the humanity of Christ. This notion pervades his teaching on the sacraments as a (in some way) real appropriation of Christ by the believer. ‘Calvin’s doctrine of union with Christ, as expounded in Book III and IV of the Institution and clarified in the context of Eucharistic debates, affirms nothing less than the reception by the believer of the substance, the very being, of the incarnate Christ. This union is the impartation of the life of the risen Christ to the believer, albeit in a manner which does not diminish the personal individuality of both Christ and the individual believer’ (William B. Evans, Imputation and Impartation – Union with Christ in American Reformed Theology, Milton Keynes: Paternoster, 2008 p.28). Justification involves not simply a forensic, past act of God through Christ in the past – it also involves communion with the person of the living Christ. It is likely that Calvin intended this notion of substantial union to indicate an ontological reality. Evans complains that this notion is underexplained by Calvin, which leaves open the possibilities of revision or rejection in subsequent generations.

Intriguingly, Calvin places sanctification before justification in the Institutes. This may have been to head off Roman Catholic charges that Protestant teaching on justification made good works redundant. But it reveals also just how closely the two were tied together in Calvin’s thought. The mediatorial person of Christ, together with the Holy Spirit binds the two together. ‘...the forensic and transforming benefits of salvation are inseparable because both are communicated to the believer in the same way through union with the mediatorial person of Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit’ (Evans). Calvin does not posit a particular ordo salutis with a single moment at which a divine declaration is announced.

Next: Union with Christ in Federal Calvinism

Broughton Knox on Limited Atonement

Bavinck complained at the beginning of the twentieth century that there were very few who held to the teaching of particular satisfaction in his day. Charles Hodge and WGT Shedd had propounded it in the nineteenth century, but Bavinck writes rather wistfully ‘it has been almost universally abandoned.’ Certainly, the evangelical movement, though Calvinist in many of its parts, had not majored on this particular distinctive. Charles Simeon and Bishop JC Ryle, for example, opposed it. Unity with other evangelicals in mission was more important.

While there has been a latter-day resurgence in Reformed theology, it has not ended the controversy among the Reformed themselves over particular redemption/limited atonement. Sydney diocese has been famous (notorious?) as a place which, while claiming the heritage of Calvinism, on the whole has been reluctant to stand with the majority Reformed position on the matter of limited or definite atonement.

Broughton Knox’s piece ‘Some Aspects of the Atonement’ reveals the particular theological commitments that led him and others to deny limited atonement while at the same time happily wearing the ‘Calvinist’ badge. In his usual rather disjointed and compressed style, Knox argues both from theological concepts (the incarnation and so on) down and from exegesis (2 Peter 2) up. Interestingly, though he uses few footnotes (did he ever?), he picks up some of McCleod Campbell’s points about Christ’s perfect obedience being the obedience demanded of every human person and not just the elect.

He clarifies: ‘The extent of Christ’s work is not limited in itself, but only in the intentions and purposes of God, and consequently in the application of its benefits to those whom God had foreknown and predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son’ (p. 261). Knox contends that the atonement makes all people savable, if they will repent and believe. But only the elect do so, for only they receive the necessary grace. Limited atonement, he claims, denies the propriety of preaching to the consciences of the unconverted their duty to repent and believe the gospel.

Furthermore, Knox points out that limited atonement is a ‘textless doctrine’ – which criticism must be a killer blow to any putative Reformed teaching. Certainly, the Bible affirms that Christ dies for the elect: but it does not say that he died for them only. If the notion of substitution is pressed into service in defence of limited atonement, as it is done by Warfield among others, Knox complains that in fact this misunderstands the need for regeneration; and falls into the trap of conceiving the atonement in a pecuniary way. Particularism, characteristic of Calvinism, is not be applied to the moment of the making of the decree, nor is prior to the decree of atonement. The atonement is general, the application particular. Knox concludes: ‘Limited atonement as commonly propounded, introduces unscriptural concepts into the doctrine of God’s relation to the world, and may prove an Achilles’ heel for the revival of Reformed theology’.

I am not sure that he is a successful prophet in this regard. What I would say is that, to be perfectly fair, though he makes some telling points, Knox's critique is aimed at a version of Limited Atonement which lies at the extremes of the discussion. The scriptural testimony as to the definiteness and particularity of the atonement seems undeniable; but that definiteness cannot be thought of in terms of an amount or value. That's a mistake with the metaphor which the term 'limited' exacerbates, it seems to me. The testimony to the definiteness of the work of Christ for the elect does not place a visible parameter around that work in some way. But it does uphold the purposefulness and intentionality of God in salvation, and the priority of his action in salvation. The definiteness of the atonement should not be asserted out of the context of the cosmic scope of the atonement (Col 1:15ff). Charles Hodge - who advocates particular redemption - I think strikes a nice balance. There is little I could contend against in his account.

Limited Atonement is asserted in order to protect the doctrine of election. My hunch, without yet having the exegetical leg-work to back it up, is that the passages that have to do with election are more complex and variegated than are allowed in Systematic Theology. Divine election seems to have a this-worldly sphere of meaning in some passages, and an eternal sphere in others. That is, God 'elects' some people or peoples within history for certain purposes (Abraham; Israel) and also elects some for the age to come. The two elections do not necessarily exactly coincide. I think Romans 9-11 (again a hunch) has more than one view of election in mind. He also elects individually and corporately.

The question would then be: how many passages bring together election and salvation and in what way do they do so? A more complex and nuanced picture might then emerge, which will allay the concerns of the proponent of Definite Atonement - that salvation is now a matter not of Christ's work but of human choice; and the concerns of the Amyraldian - that Scriptural testimony to the universal sufficiency of the atonement is being undermined if not outright denied.

Vanhoozer at the Wheaton Conference

I very much enjoyed listening to Kevin Vanhoozer's talk on Tom Wright at the recent Wheaton Conference - not the least because of the way he talks about the 'dialogical virtues' at the end. He certainly levels some strong criticisms at Wright, as well as his opponents. But it is done in exactly the right way - without caricature.

Ten observations on re-reading the New Testament as a whole

1. How often Christians are enjoined to forgive, or to bear with one another, or to practice gentleness or patience.

2. How incredibly subtle Acts is as a narrative.

3. How much the issue of the inclusion of the Gentiles drives everything from mission to ecclesiology to ethics - and how reflection on this issue drives us back to theology and soteriology and even to creation. Wow.

4. How much and how often Paul has to defend his legitimacy as an apostle.

5. How personal and particular the documents are - they abound with the names of real people about whom we know so tantalizingly little (See Romans 16).

6. How huge the scope is - given that the church was small, scattered, persecuted and divided, how incredible that the NT writers are able to make cosmological statements about their gospel. (see Col 1:15ff for example).

7. What a majestic piece of writing Ephesians is. After reading the Corinthian correspondence, you could be forgiven for despairing somewhat.

8. How complicated the issue of the ongoing relevance of the law for the Christian life is.

9. How rich the NT is when you add to the Pauline vocabulary and outlook the Johannine, Petrine and Jamesian takes.

10. How sublime and yet how pastoral Hebrews is, charting a narrow course between a supremely grounded confidence in the sacrificial blood of Christ and the severe warnings against apostacy.