The Upper Register Blog

Since this is a Sunday, I thought it would be good to do something devotional before I return to blogging through By Oath Consigned. I recently bought new Bibles for my daughters. They have found that the NASB, ESV, and even the NIV, are too hard for them to understand. So I got the New Living Translation (NLT) for them. As I was checking it out I came across Psalm 27:8:

“My heart has heard you say, ‘Come and talk with me.’ And my heart responds, ‘Lord, I am coming.’”

This verse implies that we can have a real relationship with God in prayer. Applied to New Covenant conditions, we may see this in terms of communion with the Triune God.

Is it possible to have a personal, real, communicative relationship with the risen Christ through prayer? I think it is. One of the most important Scriptural metaphors for explaining this communion that believers have with the Lord Jesus Christ is the analogy of the marriage relationship (Rom. 7:4; 2 Cor. 11:2; Eph. 5:25). Surely, in any normal marriage, there is an exchange, a communion, a relationship.

John Owen fleshes out what this means:

He is married unto us, and we unto him; which spiritual relation is attended with suitable conjugal affections. And this gives us fellowship with him as to his personal excellencies. This the spouse expresses, Cant. 2:16, ‘My Beloved is mine, and I am his;’ – ‘He is mine, I possess him, I have interest in him, as my head and my husband; and I am his, possessed of him, owned by him, given up unto him: and that as to my Beloved in a conjugal relation.’ … Christ gives himself to the soul, with all his excellencies, righteousness, graces, and eminences, to be its Savior, head, and husband, forever to dwell with it in this holy relation … This is the first thing on the part of Christ — the free donation and bestowing of himself upon us to be our Christ, our Beloved … On the part of the saints, it is their free, willing consent to receive, embrace, and submit unto the Lord Jesus, as their husband, Lord, and Savior – to abide with him, subject their souls unto him, and to be ruled by him forever. Now this in the soul is either initial, or the solemn consent at the first entrance of union; or consequential, in renewed acts of consent all our days. I speak of it especially in this latter sense, wherein it is proper unto communion … Let believers exercise their hearts abundantly unto this thing. This is choice communion with the Son Jesus Christ. Let us receive him in all his excellencies, as he bestows himself upon us – be frequent in thoughts of faith, comparing him with other beloveds, sin, world, legal righteousness; and preferring him before them, counting them all loss and dung in comparison of him … Let us tell him that we will be for him, and not for another.

[Communion with God, Works of John Owen, vol. II, pp. 54-59.]

In Christological terms:  “My heart has heard Jesus say, ‘Come and talk with me.’ And my heart responds, ‘Lord Jesus, I am coming.’”

Admittedly, the New Living Translation is on the dynamic end of the translation spectrum, but don’t set it aside lightly as a mere paraphrase. My Hebrew professor at WSC, Mark Futato, now at RTS Orlando, was on the translation team for the Psalms. Everyone knows that Dr. Futato is one of the finest Hebrew scholars we have.

The NASB reads:  “When you said, ‘Seek my face,’ my heart said to you, ‘Your face, O Lord, I shall seek.’” The NLT has clearly taken the Hebrew idiom of “seeking someone’s face” and put it in more contemporary terms as a description of wanting to talk with someone in person. This seems entirely legitimate and in fact quite helpful.

Central to Kline’s interpretation of Col 2:11 is the exegetical decision to take “of Christ” in the phrase “the circumcision of Christ” as an objective genitive. On this reading, “the circumcision of Christ” is the circumcision that Christ received, not when he was eight days old, but when he was crucified. The context of Paul’s argument makes clear that believers participate in Christ’s circumcision-death by faith (as symbolized in baptism), so that in union with Christ we are also reckoned as having been circumcised or cut off under the wrath of God. Of course, this participation in the circumcision of Christ is not an end in itself but a means of salvation. Because of union with Christ, we are not only judged but also raised with Christ, with the result that salvation comes through judgment.

I find Kline’s objective genitive interpretation theologically attractive. But perhaps for that very reason I also worry whether it is objectively viable on exegetical grounds. So the thought occurred to me to check the views of the major commentators on Colossians — most of whom have presumably never heard of Kline. To my surprise the objective genitive is adopted by a number of highly regarded NT scholars.  This is not an exhaustive review of all commentaries on Colossians, but I think I’ve checked the main scholarly ones.

(1) Commentators who adopt the objective genitive

Markus Barth and Helmut Blanke, Colossians: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB 34B; New York: Doubleday, 1994), 318-20, 363-69:

It is more probable that v 11 alludes to the death of Jesus. Otherwise the subsequent words concerning his burial and resurrection would stand curiously without a reference point … The phrase “body of the flesh” is also best interpreted as in 1:22 … to define the earthly/human existence of Jesus, where the entire expression “in the laying down of the body of the flesh” is the description of his death … If this interpretation is correct, then the expression used in v 11, “circumcision of Christ,” becomes clear. It cannot be a designation of baptism, but rather only a description of the death of Jesus.

James D. G. Dunn, The Epistles to the Colossians and to Philemon: A Commentary on the Greek Text (NIGTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), 157-58:

More likely the phrase [“the stripping off of the body of the flesh”] is an adaptation of the description of physical circumcision – a stripping off of the flesh (of the foreskin) – applied to Jesus’ death in deliberate echo of 1:22 … The final phrase, “in the circumcision of Christ,” is best seen, then, simply as a summary expression of the larger imagery of the preceding phrases. That is, what is in view is not primarily a circumcision effected by Christ … but a concise description of the death of Christ under the metaphor of circumcision. It is clearly implied, of course, from the first phrase, that conversion-initiation could consequently be understood as a sharing in that circumcision, but it is precisely a sharing in his circumcision-death, not an independent act of Christians’ own circumcision-death.

Other commentators who adopt the objective genitive include: 

Ralph P. Martin, Colossians and Philemon (NCB; London: Oliphants, 1974), 82.

C. F. D. Moule, The Epistles of Paul the Apostle to the Colossians and to Philemon (CGTC; Cambridge: CUP, 1957), 94-96.

Peter T. O’Brien, Colossians, Philemon (WBC 44; Waco: Word Books, 1982), 116-17.

(2) Commentators who reject the objective genitive

Although the objective genitive receives strong support, there are also some heavy-weight commentators on the other side who reject this interpretation and argue for one of the following alternatives:

a. Subjective genitive:  “the circumcision of Christ” is the spiritual circumcision that Christ performs in us by cutting off our sinful nature and regenerating us to newness of life: 

Eduard Schweizer, The Letter to the Colossians: A Commentary (trans. Andrew Chester; London: SPCK, 1982), 143.

b. Genitive of quality:  the genitive “of Christ” would be translated “Christian.” Thus, “the circumcision of Christ” is Christian circumcision in contrast with the fleshly circumcision of the old covenant. On this view, “Christian circumcision” could either refer to baptism or regeneration:

Murray J. Harris, Colossians and Philemon (EGGNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1991), 102-3. (Harris calls it the adjectival genitive, and sees it as very similar in meaning to the genitive of possession.)

Petr Pokorný, Colossians: A Commentary (trans. Siegfried S. Schatzmann; Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 1991), 124-25.

N. T. Wright, Colossians and Philemon (TNTC; Leicester: InterVarsity, 1986), 105.

At least one commentator rejects the objective genitive without specifying whether he leans to the subjective genitive or the genitive of quality:

Eduard Lohse, Colossians and Philemon (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1971), 102-3.

Conclusion

It would appear from the above survey that NT scholarship is evenly divided on this issue. Good arguments can be made on both sides. My point is to show the Kline’s interpretation is not idiosyncratic but finds significant support in mainstream biblical scholarship. The objective genitive is exegetically viable on its own terms and may not be dismissed as Kline’s attempt to force the text into his system.

A month ago I mentioned that I took my comprehensive exams. I found out today that I passed all four. That’s an answer to prayer! I’m now moving toward the second part of the Ph.D. program – the dissertation phase. I’d like to write on something related to the New Perspective on Paul, but I still need to decide what aspect to focus on. I have a couple of ideas, but I need to do more research to evaluate their viability. I hope to narrow the topic down by the end of the year.

In a previous post I quoted Andrew Sullivan’s insight that no one can escape the contingency of their upbringing, nor should we regard this as a bad thing. Technically, Presbyterianism isn’t the contingency in which I was born and raised. It is, rather, one that I have adopted when I was a young adult, and in which I have lived for the past 15 years. So the question naturally arises, how does the contingency of my childhood relate to the contingency of my adulthood? There was a break, to be sure, when I abandoned my dispensational, Arminian, higher-life, Plymouth Brethren background and became covenantal, Reformed, and Presbyterian. But there are also important areas of continuity:

(1) I continue to believe that the Bible is the only infallible rule of faith and practice, the touchstone of all that we do and believe. The church in which I was raised instilled in me a high regard for the Scriptures. It was certainly wrong in its interpretation, but right in principle. We were steeped in the Bible. We did Bible studies several times a week using the Navigator’s chapter summary method. When listening to sermons, we were exhorted to turn in our Bibles to every passage that the preacher read, and this often meant turning to what seemed like hundreds of passages every Sunday. And we took notes too, filling up reems of paper over the years. I did this as a child and so my mind was chock-full of Scripture.

(2) I continue to be an evangelical, that is, one who believes in the centrality of the cross and the necessity of a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. This is probably the most important thing. One can have all kinds of head knowledge, but without a personal, saving, intimate relationship with Christ such knowledge is vain. The leader of the church in which I was raised often railed against “dead orthodoxy” and emphasized a mystical form of higher-life piety. Unfortunately, the constant striving for this higher experience had an unintended consequence — it actually produced despair in those who could not achieve it, and hypocrisy and arrogance in those who thought they had. As a result, when I first joined the Presbyterian fold I reacted against that and embraced doctrinalism, which I perceived to be the only safeguard against subjectivism. I have now come full circle and realize that my old church was right — dead orthodoxy is a very real danger, especially for conservative Presbyterians. Doctrine and life must go hand-in-hand. It is absolutely vital to have a personal relationship with Christ as one’s personal Lord and Savior, and to commune with him in prayer. Paul put it best: “I count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord” (Phil 3:8).The famous revivalist Presbyterian pastor Gilbert Tennent is remembered as having taught that ”We can preach the gospel of Christ no further than we have experienced the power of it in our own hearts.”

These, then, are crucial elements of the invaluable inheritance that I received from the church in which my parents raised me, and which I continue to carry with me into my Presbyterian context. Since Presbyterians (at least the ones I know) tend to be weak in these two areas, I like the idea of reaching back into my past and carrying forward these two elements into the present. We need a chastened Presbyterianism in which basic things like personal prayer and Bible reading are encouraged rather than set aside as bad ”evangelical” habits. Presbyterians of an earlier day knew that doctrine, in and of itself, is barren unless rooted in the soil of a vital relationship with the risen Christ.

(3) “The Circumcision of Christ” (Col 2:11-12)

The third continuity between BOC and KP is Kline’s marvelous exegesis of Col 2:11-12. Here is the passage, first in the original Greek, then in English translation:

ἐν ᾧ καὶ περιετμήθητε περιτομῇ ἀχειροποιήτῳ ἐν τῇ ἀπεκδύσει τοῦ σώματος τῆς σαρκός, ἐν τῇ περιτομῇ τοῦ Χριστοῦ, συνταφέντες αὐτῷ ἐν τῷ βαπτισμῷ, ἐν ᾧ καὶ συνηγέρθητε διὰ τῆς πίστεως τῆς ἐνεργείας τοῦ θεοῦ τοῦ ἐγείραντος αὐτὸν ἐκ νεκρῶν·

“And in Him you were also circumcised with a circumcision made without hands, in the removal of the body of the flesh by the circumcision of Christ; having been buried with Him in baptism, in which you were also raised up with Him through faith in the working of God, who raised Him from the dead” (NASB).

Here are Kline’s comments on the text:

BOC, pp. 46-47:

In the Colossians 2 passage … Paul affirms the union of the Christian with Christ in his crucifixion-circumcision … That Paul here interprets circumcision as a dying or death is clear from the sequence of ideas: circumcision, burial, resurrection (cf. Rom. 6:3, 4). This is confirmed by the exposition of circumcision as a “putting (or stripping) off,” the latter being in turn synonymous with “putting to death” (Col. 3:5-9). As a death in union with Christ, the representative sin-bearer, in his crucifixion, the Christian’s circumcision-death is an undergoing of the wrath of God against sin, a falling under his sword of judgment. It is a judicial death as the penalty for sin. Yet, to be united with Christ in his death is also to be raised with him whom death could not hold in his resurrection unto justification. So it is that circumcision, which in itself as a symbolic action signifies the sword of the Lord cutting off his false servants, as a sign of the Covenant of Redemption takes on, alongside the import of condemnation, that of justification, the blessing that may come through the curse.

BOC, pp. 70-71:

Thoroughly congenial to the ordeal interpretation of the baptismal symbolism is the New Testament’s exposition of baptism as a participation with Christ in the judgment ordeal of his death, burial, and resurrection (see Rom. 6:3ff.; Col. 2:11ff.; cf. I Cor. 1:13; Lk. 12:50) …

Earlier we followed the exegesis of “the circumcision of Christ” (Col. 2:11) that regards “of Christ” as an objective genitive and “the circumcision,” therefore, as the crucifixion of Christ. “Without hands” would then mean that his circumcision was no mere human symbolization of the curse sanction of the law but the actual divine judgment. “Putting off the body of flesh” would further contrast the crucifixion to the symbolic removal of the foreskin as being a perfecting of circumcision in a complete cutting off unto death, and that as an object of divine cursing … If, then, Paul calls the Christian death-experience a circumcision it is only because he was first of all prepared to call Christ’s death a circumcision.

Kline follows the same interpretation 32 years later:

KP, p. 316:

Circumcision is in fact employed in the Scripture as an image for that redemptive judgment undergone by Christ.  Paul referred to the crucifixion as “the circumcision of Christ” (Col 2:11), seeing it as antitype to the circumcision-sacrifice of Isaac (Gen 22), a “putting off” not merely of a token part but of the whole body of his flesh through death (cf. Col 1:22), a veritable perfecting of circumcision. [See By Oath Consigned, pp. 45-47,71.]

What was signified by circumcision was, therefore, the generic concept of the divine judgment in its twofold potential.  It conveyed the threat of being cut off from God and life for the one who, disclaiming the grace of the covenant and thus breaking it, would undergo in himself the judgment due to Adam’s fallen race.  But circumcision also presented the promise of the Cross, inviting the circumcised to identify by faith with Christ, to undergo the judgment of God in him, and so find in his circumcision-judgment the way to the Father, to justification and life.

Isn’t the gospel great! Too often preachers explain the substitutionary atonement using the analogy of the convicted felon who stands before the judge, but the judge happens to be his father, so the father takes his son’s place that the son can go free. This captures the substitutionary element of the atonement, but it misses the representative dimension. The great thing about the atonement isn’t that I don’t have to die, but that I have died. And since this death was in union with Christ, I have also been delivered from the curse and ushered into resurrection life on the other side. 

So, to summarize Kline’s interpretation of Col 2:11-12:

a. Taking “of Christ”  as an objective genitive, “the circumcision of Christ” (ἡ περιτομὴ τοῦ Χριστοῦ) means that Christ is the object of the divine ”circumcision” action. On the cross, Christ himself was circumcised, cut off, accursed, and judged.

b. The sequence is “circumcision, burial, resurrection.” Normally, the sequence is “death, burial, resurrection.” Therefore, “circumcision” here is equal to ”death.”

c. Baptism, like circumcision, is associated with death or judgment. Both circumcision and baptism, then, are symbolic actions that signify divine judgment.

d. All of this is Christocentric. The divine judgment has been undergone by Christ himself and we in him. Therefore, both circumcision in the Old Covenant and baptism in the New signify redemptive judgment. Blessing comes through curse.

e. It is not enough to speak of Christ’s substitutionary death. It is substitutionary, but it is also representative. He not only died in our place. We also died in forensic union with him! This precious truth is not only found in Col 2:11-12 but in many other passages:

“Our old self was crucified with him” (Rom 6:6; cf. 7:4)

“One died for all, therefore all died” (2 Cor 5:14)

“I have been crucified with Christ” (Gal 2:20; cf. 6:14)

“You have died” (Col 3:3)

To quote Kline again, circumcision/baptism invites us

to identify by faith with Christ, to undergo the judgment of God in him, and so find in this circumcision-judgment the way to the Father, to justification and life.  

f. To say that we have been both judged and raised in (forensic) union with Christ is simply to say that we have been justified. I add the word “forensic” in order to clarify that, with regard to justification, union with Christ is legal. It is simply another way of stating that we are represented by Christ as our federal head and surety. 

g. However, there is also a dimension of union with Christ that goes beyond the legal and includes an element of real participation and mystical transformation. Justification is immediately and inseparably followed by sanctification. We are judged, then raised (justification), and now that we are raised, we walk in newness of life by the power of his Spirit dwelling in us (sanctification). Circumcision and baptism therefore signify both justification and sanctification in union with Christ.

Just in case you’re wondering, Kline agrees that both justification and sanctification are symbolized in these oath signs (KP, pp. 316-17):

Circumcision, properly experienced, means identification with Christ in his crucifixion-circumcision as a satisfaction of divine justice and it thus means safe passage through the death-judgment to the resurrection unto justification (Col 2:11ff.; Rom 4:11).  To be circumcised in Christ involves further a dying to sin, a putting off of the old man not only in the forensic sense but subjectively in the spiritual transformation of sanctification (Col 2:11ff; 3:5ff.).

(2) Baptism as a sign of judgment

Not only is circumcision a symbolic action that signifies the concept of judgment, so is baptism. Specifically, baptism is a judicial ordeal. Kline appeals to the following pieces of evidence in support: 

a. John’s baptism was part of God’s law-suit against Israel. Kline reminds us of John’s warnings of impending judgment (BOC, p. 54):

The voice in the wilderness cried, “Repent ye: for the kingdom of heaven is at hand” (Matt. 3:2). It warned of “the wrath to come” and of the vanity of reliance on external earthly relationships, even descent from Abraham. If the trees did not bring forth satisfactory fruit … then they must be cursed as a cumbrance to the ground and cut off. The axe was even now “laid unto the root” to inflict this judgment of circumcision (cf. Matt. 3:7ff.; Lk. 3:7ff.). One would expect that the baptism of John as the sign of such a mission of ultimatum would portray by its own symbolic form the threatened ordeal of divine judgment … the impending judicial ordeal which would discriminate and separate between the chaff and the wheat.

b. Jesus’ reception of John’s baptism and his use of “baptism” imagery to refer to his death (Mark 10:38; Lk 12:50) reinforce this reading of baptism as a judicial ordeal. Kline writes (BOC, pp. 58-59):

As covenant Servant, Jesus submitted in symbol to the judgment of the God of the covenant in the waters of baptism. But for Jesus, as the Lamb of God, to submit to the symbol of judgment was to offer himself up to the curse of the covenant. By his baptism Jesus was consecrating himself unto his sacrificial death in the judicial ordeal of the cross. Such an understanding of his baptism is reflected in Jesus’ own reference to his coming passion as a baptism: “I have a baptism to be baptized with” (Lk. 12:50; cf. Mk. 10:38).

c. Peter interpreted the flood (1 Pet 3:21) as a type of baptism, and Paul viewed the exodus (1 Cor 10:1-2) as a kind of baptism. Since the flood and the exodus were judicial ordeals, baptism must be a judicial ordeal as well (BOC, pp. 65, 67, 69):

That Peter conceived of Christian baptism as a sign of judicial ordeal is indicated by his likening it to the archetypal water ordeal, the Noahic deluge (I Pet. 3:20-22) … Paul saw the nature of baptism displayed in another classic Old Testament water ordeal … The exodus judgment was then an ordeal by fire-cloud and water, and it was this ordeal that Paul identified as a baptism.

Of course, Kline’s interpretation of both circumcision and baptism as signs of judgment is not intended to be purely negative. The judgment involved is actually ”redemptive judgment.” For it is in union with Christ that we have been circumcised by the sword of divine judgment and baptized in God’s overwhelming flood of wrath. We have been judged in Christ and raised with him to eternal life, i.e., we have been justified. I’ll explore this further in a subsequent post.

In chapters 3-5 of BOC, Kline deals with circumcision and baptism. These chapters form the heart and soul of BOC. It is here that Kline makes his lasting contribution to the theology of circumcision and baptism. Here are the chapter titles:

Chapter 3:  Circumcision:  Oath-Sign of the Old Covenant
Chapter 4:  John’s Baptismal Sign of Judgment
Chapter 5:  Christian Baptism:  Oath-Sign of the New Covenant

In these three chapters, the burden of Kline’s argument is that both circumcision and baptism, as signs of their respective covenants, are sacramental actions that symbolize God’s judgment or curse. This crucial insight is the basis of several points of continuity between BOC and KP, i.e., points that Kline continued to endorse.

(1) Circumcision as a sign of judgment

Kline adduces three exegetical arguments in support of this conclusion. Actually, there is a fourth (Col 2:11-12), but I’ll cover that in a separate post since it’s so important.

a. The circumcision knife is a picture of the sword of divine judgment (Josh 5:13; Rev 19:15). Kline appeals to Joshua 5 which recounts the circumcision of the second generation of Israelites at Gilgal. Soon after the nation is circumcised, Joshua sees an angel, the captain of LORD’s host, standing “with his sword drawn in his hand,” prepared to lead the nation into its first major battle against the Canaanites, the battle of Jericho. Kline comments (BOC, p. 43 n. 11):

It is as if the sword of the captain of the host of the Lord had been turned away from the uncircumcised nation by their cutting the covenant-allegiance oath anew through circumcision, and only then could be directed against the Canaanites to cut them off from the land.

b. The second exegetical argument for interpreting circumcision as a sign of judgment is the use of the verb “cut off” in Gen 17:14. Kline explains (BOC, p. 43):

The meaning of circumcision as symbol of the oath-curse is actually expressed in so many words in verse 14. There the threat of the curse sanction sounds against the one who breaks the covenant by not obeying the command of circumcision:  “(he) shall be cut off” … In the cutting off of the foreskin the judgment of excision from the covenant relationship was symbolized.

c. The third argument is the offering of Isaac (Gen 22). Kline argues that the knife ritual in Gen 22 was a “perfecting” of the circumcision of Gen 17. He writes (BOC, p. 44):

For Abraham the consecratory purpose of circumcision was brought home in another cutting ritual he was afterwards required to perform. When Isaac the son of promise was born, Abraham had circumcised him on the eighth day as God had commanded (Gen. 21:4). But later God summoned Abraham to take up the knife again and to perfect Isaac’s circumcision by cutting him off altogether from among the living (Gen. 22:1ff.). The identification of this cutting off of Isaac as “a burnt offering” (v. 2), the form of sacrifice expressive of total consecration, illuminates the meaning of these knife rituals.

In Kingdom Prologue (2000), Kline refers to By Oath Consigned (1968) seven times. All seven references are favorable, as in “see BOC for more on this topic,” although in one key reference (KP, p. 312, quoted below) Kline makes a brief allusion to the fact that his treatment of the same topic in KP involves “some revision.” All seven references are to the treatment of circumcision and baptism in BOC chs. 3-6. There are no references in KP to BOC chs. 1-2.

Here are the seven references:

KP, p. 217:  Dealing with the Noahic flood and Israel’s crossing of the Red Sea as judicial ordeals and types of the final judgment, Kline writes:  “(cf. the comments on 1 Cor 10:1,2 in my By Oath Consigned, p.68).”

KP, p. 312:  This is the start of a new section titled “Circumcision Oath” (KP, pp. 312-18). Kline writes:  “[On this subject see further my By Oath Consigned (1968), of which the present discussion is a résumé involving some revision.]” What exactly was involved in this “revision” is a topic I’ll address in subsequent posts.

KP, p. 316: Later in this same section, Kline deals with “the circumcision of Christ” (Col 2:11) and adds:  “[See By Oath Consigned, pp. 45-47,71.]”

KP, p. 317:  On the next page, Kline sets out to argue that baptism corresponds to circumcision in its symbolic meaning, and adds:  “(For a more extensive treatment see my By Oath Consigned.)”

KP, p. 361:  This is a later section dealing with the nature of the Abrahamic covenant as a family-based covenant community. “From the beginning the institution of the family was consistently respected in determining the constituency of the covenant family.  (See further on this topic my By Oath Consigned, pp.84ff.)” Page 84 and following coincides with BOC ch. 6 which is Kline’s argument for infant baptism on the ground of parental authority.

KP, p. 363:  Dealing with the theological significance of baptism:  “(cf. By Oath Consigned, pp.63ff.).” Page 63 and following coincides with BOC ch. 5:  “Christian Baptism: Oath-Sign of the New Covenant.”

KP, pp. 363-64:  Again dealing with the topic of household baptism:  “(Cf. By Oath Consigned, pp.96f.  See pp.94ff. for a discussion of the question of the continuation of the broader household approach inclusive of ‘servants.’)”

The take-away from this is that Kline did not totally discourage people from reading BOC. He still thought it contained valuable insights, particularly related to his treatment of circumcision and baptism (BOC chs. 3-5), as well as his argument for infant baptism on the basis of parental authority (BOC ch. 6). However, he would have wanted readers of BOC to also read his treatment of the same themes in KP (pp. 312-18 and 361-65). These sections of KP were a briefer “resume” of BOC, so one would still need to consult BOC for the fuller argument. Nevertheless, the briefer resume did involve “some revision” of BOC at certain points.

His discussion of covenant theology in BOC chs. 1-2 is not addressed anywhere in KP. Kline felt that these chapters required a much greater degree of revision than BOC chs. 3-6.

Earlier this year, Andrew Sullivan engaged in a blog debate with militant atheist Sam Harris, author of Letter to a Christian Nation. Harris raised the problem of “contingency,” charging that Andrew Sullivan’s Roman Catholic faith was merely a contingency, an accident of being born to certain parents, at a certain time, in a certain place. If he had been raised by Buddhists, more than likely he would have been a Buddhist. I found Andrew’s reply to be helpful to me personally. I’ll explain how below.

Read the whole reply to get the context. But here are a few snippets. Andrew begins by pointing out the obvious:

I have never met a human being or a human mind that is “contingency-free”, and never will. No child grows up without the contingent facts of their family, place, genes, and any number of details that make us who we are. You and I would be very different people if we had different contingent genetics and different contingent histories.

Not only is there no such thing as a “contingency-free” human being, such contingency is for the most part a good thing. Andrew embraces the contingency of his Roman Catholic upbringing and the long history that lies behind it:

Why would I want to forget all of that precious inheritance - the humility of Mary, the foolishness of Peter, the genius of Paul, the candor of Augustine, the genius of Francis, the glory of Chartres cathedral, the haunting music of Tallis, the art of Michelangelo, the ecstasies of Teresa, the rigor of Ignatius, the whole astonishing, ravishing panoply of ancient Christianity that suddenly arrived at my door, in a banal little town in an ordinary family in the grim nights of the 1970s in England?

You want to be contingency-free? Maybe you need a richer slice of contingency. There is more wisdom, depth, range, glory, nuance and truth in my tradition than can be dreamt of in your rationalism. In answer to your question, “why not leave all this behind?” my answer is simply: why on earth would I?

Another phrase used in the debate is “the unclean glass,” which seems to be another term for “contingency,” highlighting the fact that the contingency isn’t always pure. In Andrew’s case, he has to admit that the Roman Catholic Church has engaged in bad behavior both in the past and in the present. So the glass isn’t pristine. But it should not for that reason be cast aside as worthless.

So how did I, as a Presbyterian, find Andrew’s comments helpful? It helped me to realize that I can still be a Presbyterian even though I am critical of aspects of it.

I wasn’t raised a Presbyterian. I was raised in a dispensational, Arminian, higher-life sect with Plymouth Brethren ecclesiology called The Assembly. It was a group with cultic tendencies – authoritarian leadership, communal living, a system of punishments called “consequences,” and so on. But in my college days, God converted me to the Calvinistic understanding of the gospel through exegesis and the guidance of various Reformed writers. Through my study of the scriptures, God led me out of the church in which I was brought up. 

After college, my wife and I joined the PCA in 1992 when we were just starting at Westminster Seminary California. We then switched to the OPC in 1995. We came full circle and returned to the PCA in 2003. We have been through many experiences in conservative Presbyterianism, some good and some bad. It’s an imperfect, flawed, human tradition. My run-ins with the darker side of Presbyterianism have not been pleasant, and have made me question my commitment to being Presbyterian.

But (American) Presbyterianism is the tradition I understand best and in which I have been providentially placed, foibles and all. Rather than focusing on how the glass is unclean, I’d rather focus on how this human tradition can be a legitimate expression of the Christian faith in a historic community that traces its roots back to Old Princeton, B. B. Warfield, Charles Hodge, John Witherspoon, the Log College, Francis Makemie, and the other Scotch-Irish Presbyterians who immigrated to this land and founded American Presbyterianism in the 1700s. Of course, this tradition can be traced back even farther to the continent, to Calvin and Luther, and to the medieval church before them.

Recognizing the contingency of the fact that God has placed me within this ecclesiastical tradition does not bind me to a specific set of answers to every problem. It doesn’t mean that I cannot critically evaluate and appropriate that tradition. But it does mean that I begin with certain theological assumptions, a well-stocked universe of discourse, without which it is hard to have a meaningful discussion to begin with. The Presbyterian tradition is more than the Westminster Confession and Catechisms. It is bigger than any particular Presbyterian denomination, be it the OPC, PCA, EPC or whatever. It is a living tradition, an embodiment of the evangelical, Christian faith in one branch of the universal visible church of Jesus Christ.

To quote Andrew again:

Why would a human being not look at the unclean glass he is born with and ask: what is this that I have been given? Who passed this down to me? Why? Who died to give this to me? Who suffered? Who spent their lives transcribing texts to keep the memory of this man alive? Who built these churches and composed these chants and wrote these books for me to engage long after they have all disappeared from the earth? How does this amazing cultural, intellectual, spiritual inheritance connect with that inchoate sense of the divine that still permeates my soul? Could it be that what I sense in my soul is what Augustine sensed? What Dominic sensed? What John actually saw and loved and rested his head against?

This post is a grab-bag of different links related to God and politics. 

First, my friend T. David Gordon has a cool article critiquing Constantinianism. In response to those who complain about the alleged decline of Christianity in the west, he turns the tables:

Indeed, if there is any real evidence of the decline of Christianity in the West, the evidence resides precisely in the eagerness of so many professing Christians to employ the state to advance the Christian religion. That is, if Ellul’s theory is right, the evidence of the decline of Christianity resides not in the presence of other religions (including secularism) in our culture, but in the Judge Moores, the hand-wringing over “under God” in the pledge of allegiance, and the whining about the “war on Christmas.” If professing Christians believe our religion is advanced by the power of the state rather than by the power of the Spirit, by coercion rather than by example and moral suasion, then perhaps Christianity is indeed in decline. If we can no longer say, with the apostle Paul, “the weapons of our warfare are not fleshly,” then perhaps Christianity is indeed in significant decline. If we believe we need Christian presidents, legislators, and judges in order for our faith to advance, then we ourselves no longer believe in Christianity, and it has declined. Christianity does not rise or fall on the basis of governmental activity; it rises or falls on the basis of true ecclesiastical activity. What Christianity needs is competent ministers, not Christian judges, legislators, or executive officers.

Second, on the assumption that it is critical that our next president be an anti-Federalist social conservative, James Dobson is still looking for his ideal candidate for ‘08. He expresses his dissatisfaction with Fred:

Isn’t Thompson the candidate who is opposed to a Constitutional amendment to protect marriage, believes there should be 50 different definitions of marriage in the U.S., favors McCain-Feingold, won’t talk at all about what he believes, and can’t speak his way out of a paper bag on the campaign trail? … He has no passion, no zeal, and no apparent ‘want to.’ And yet he is apparently the Great Hope that burns in the breasts of many conservative Christians? Well, not for me, my brothers. Not for me!

(HT: Andrew Sullivan) 

Third, I just discovered that one Republican presidential candidate is an Evangelical Presbyterian. Isn’t that wacky? Not that it matters, but I thought it was interesting. I can only hope that his fellow EPC-ers cringe when they hear him recommend bombing Mecca as a nuclear deterrent. And I thought the crusades were over.