Considering Arminianism
The Seventh-day Adventist Theological Seminary at Andrews
University recently hosted a symposium on "Arminianism
and Adventism: Celebrating Our Soteriological Heritage,"
October 14-16. David Hamstra posted summaries of the
presentations at the "Memory,
Meaning & Faith" blog.
Jacob Arminius (1560-1609) was a Dutch Reformed theologian
who called into question the teachings of orthodox Calvinism on
the bound will, predestination and eternal security. The issue,
according to Baylor University theologian Roger E. Olson, was
the character of God. Arminius saw Calvin's version of God to be
indistinguishable from the devil, and not the loving Father who
"so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that
whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have
everlasting life."
This emphasis on the character of God strikes a responsive
chord with Seventh-day Adventist theology, as it is the
centerpiece of "the Great Controversy" framework. The conveners
of the conference wanted to highlight this point, and express
their gratitude to Arminius on the 400th anniversary
of the "Remonstrance" of 1610. The Arminian banner was taken up
by John Wesley in the 18th century, and Arminius'
teachings were enshrined in the Methodist movement he founded.
This was the framework assumed by those founders of the
Seventh-day Adventist church, like Ellen White, who came from a
Methodist background.
And yet, listening to these presenters, and pondering the
debates among evangelicals, it was clear to me that though we
have assumed certain key points made by Arminius, much of the
language and many of the concepts remain foreign. Our theology
has tended to use the language of the Bible (King James
Version), whereas the Arminian debate often depends upon
medieval philosophical and theological categories to which we
are unaccustomed.
I'm inclined to agree with these sentiments expressed by
William Miller in his "Apology and Defence" (1845):
It is in the use of terms not found in the Scriptures,
that disputations arise. For instance, the difference
between the Calvinist and Arminian, I often thus explain:
Both are in the same dilemma. They are like a company of men
in the lower story of a house when the tide is entering, and
from which there is no escape only by a rope by which they
may be drawn up. All endeavor to lay hold of the rope; the
one is continually afraid he has not hold of the right rope;
if he was sure he had the right rope he would have no fears.
The other has no fear but he has hold of the right rope; he
is continually afraid his rope will break. - Now both are
equally fearful they may perchance not escape: their fears
arise from different causes. How foolish it is, then, for
them to begin to quarrel with each other, because the one
supposes the rope may break, and the other that it is the
wrong rope.
Now I have found Christians among those who believed they
were born again, but might fall away; and among those that
believed that if they were ever born again they should
certainly persevere. The difference between them I regard as
a mere matter of education; both have their fears; and both
believe that those only who persevere unto the end will be
saved. I therefore look on men as bigots who quarrel with
others, and deny that those are Christians who cannot see
just as they do.
One example of where the use of non-Biblical language gets us
in trouble is when grace is divided up into different kinds:
prevenient, justifying, sanctifying, etc. Many of the speakers
of the conference waxed eloquent about the distinctions, but no
one thought it necessary to answer the previous question--What
is grace? It seemed to me that many were operating with a
view of grace as something substantial--a sort of "stuff" that
can be given, divided, and delineated.
How we define grace is critical! Consider, first, how it is
understood by the Catechism of the Catholic Church (para.
1996ff): it is "favor, the free and undeserved help that
God gives us to respond to his call," but it is more than
that--it is "a participation in the life of God," and this life
is then "infused by the Holy Spirit into our soul to heal it of
sin and to sanctify it." The Reformers would stop at the first
part--grace is God's unmerited favor. Catholic teaching about
grace, though, allows for merit to play a role. As the
Catechism explains (para. 2010),
Since the initiative belongs to God in the order of
grace, no one can merit the initial grace of forgiveness and
justification, at the beginning of conversion. Moved by the
Holy Spirit and by charity, we can then merit for ourselves
and for others the graces needed for our sanctification, for
the increase of grace and charity, and for the attainment of
eternal life.
No one at the conference defined grace. No one at the
conference got into the historic disputes between Catholics and
Protestants over the meaning and application of grace. Yet this
is foundational to understanding the dispute between Arminius
and the Calvinists of his day.
Let's start with the term, "prevenient
grace." This is a critical term for Arminians, for it is
their response to the charge of Pelagianism that the Calvinists
have leveled at them. To avoid a charge of teaching that natural
man can respond on his own to God they must postulate that God
gives an initial grace. This is what they call "prevenient
grace." This wasn't original with Arminius--it was at the heart
of the response of the Synod of Orange (529 AD) to Pelagius. And
at the time of the Reformation, it was also fundamental to
Trent's understanding of justification.
The Council of Trent put it this way:
The Synod furthermore declares, that in adults, the
beginning of the said Justification is to be derived from
the prevenient grace of God, through Jesus Christ, that is
to say, from His vocation, whereby, without any merits
existing on their parts, they are called; that so they, who
by sins were alienated from God, may be disposed through His
quickening and assisting grace, to convert themselves to
their own justification, by freely assenting to and
co-operating with that said grace: in such sort that, while
God touches the heart of man by the illumination of the Holy
Ghost, neither is man himself utterly without doing anything
while he receives that inspiration, forasmuch as he is also
able to reject it; yet is he not able, by his own free will,
without the grace of God, to move himself unto justice in
His sight. Whence, when it is said in the sacred writings:
Turn ye to me, and I will turn to you, we are admonished of
our liberty; and when we answer; Convert us, O Lord, to
thee, and we shall be converted, we confess that we are
prevented by the grace of God.
I posed this question to Olson--isn't this why the Reformed
had a problem with Arminius? His teachings sounded little
different from the teachings of Trent? He acknowledged this, but
didn't really want to get into it. He argued, though, that
thinks that merit is a more critical difference between
evangelical and Catholic positions. I agree--but the Catholic
teaching on merit rests on this distinction between prevenient
grace, justifying grace, and sanctifying grace. By dividing
up grace in this way they are able to hold to both 1) we can't
do anything apart from grace and 2) we can merit more grace
after the initial grace. I later spoke with another speaker,
Keith Stanglin, who acknowledged that the similarity between
Arminius' teachings on grace and Catholic dogma led his
Calvinistic opponents to suspect he might be a closet Jesuit!
So it seems to me that Arminius, attempting to refute the
scholastic systematizers of Calvin's thought, fell back on the
only other framework with which he was familiar--medieval
Catholic philosophical distinctions. This helped to give clarity
to his thinking, but it also opened up other problems. And his
Calvinist opponents, instead of acceding to his Biblical
presentation of the character of God, were able to latch onto
his philosophical shortcomings and dismiss his theology as just
another version of the medieval Roman system that they had
abandoned.
Another problem with this use of non-Biblical terminology
arises when we consider the question of assurance of salvation,
a topic discussed by Woody Whidden and Keith Stanglin. As laid
out by Whidden, one can base assurance on either a priori
considerations (God's mercy, love, grace, as revealed in Christ)
or a posteriori factors (what we've experienced)--what
Stanglin refers to as "the good fruit visible on a good tree."
These latter include:
- The sense of faith
- The internal testimony of the Holy Spirit
- The struggle of the Spirit against the flesh
- The desire to engage in good works.
But Arminius argued for the a priori factors in a
rather peculiar way. He spoke of the "two-fold love of God--God
primarily loves himself [NB: Really? I didn't know narcissism
was one of his attributes!] and the good of righteousness (or
justice), and he secondarily loves the creature and its
blessedness," Stanglin says. As a consequence, God "will never
condemn a believer or ignore the sins of the impenitent
unbeliever. With this affirmation about God, believers may rest
assured that God loves them and genuinely desires their
salvation."
I really don't see how such philosophical reasoning would
provide any comfort to one tempted to despair!
I find much more satisfying responses in the Lutheran
tradition. Luther believed in predestination as much as Calvin
and Zwingli, because he saw so much in Scripture testifying to
it (e.g.,
Rom. 8:28-30) and to God's mysterious ways in accomplishing
his will (including hardening the hearts of some, like Pharaoh,
and dragging others kicking and screaming into his will, like
Jonah). He lays this out in The Bondage of the Will. But
these things lie in what Luther calls God's "inscrutable
will"--they have to do with the "hidden God" (Deus
absconditus). We cannot gaze at the naked majesty of God's
splendor and power. We must cling to the Word, in which he has
revealed his grace and mercy.
Thus Luther would say to the one in despair: Don't focus on
either your sins or whether God has predestined you. Cling
instead to the Word, as it is preached to you and as it is
presented to you in visible form, especially in the Sacraments.
As he says in the "Large Catechism,"
Thus we must regard Baptism and make it profitable to
ourselves, that when our sins and conscience oppress us, we
strengthen ourselves and take comfort and say: Nevertheless
I am baptized; but if I am baptized, it is promised me that
I shall be saved and have eternal life, both in soul and
body.
Luther turns the person away from introspection to focus on
God's self-revelation in Jesus Christ. He holds before them the
Gospel. He tells them God will be true to his promise.
But herein lies a danger to us. Seventh-day Adventists don't
need to fear the introduction of Calvinism. I don't see that
likely to happen. The danger facing Adventists today is the
introduction of philosophical constructs that go beyond the
teaching of Scripture. Fleeing the Scylla of Calvinism, some
have embraced the Charybdis of a philosophical theism that binds
God to courses of action that are deemed reasonable and in
accordance with a certain human understanding of freedom. In so
doing, they reject not only predestination as understood by
Calvin, but also God's foreknowledge. For these philosophers,
God can't know our choices or the future. If he did, we wouldn't
be free. But in robbing God of foreknowledge, they've also
divested him of his providence. They've given us a god whose
hands are tied and who doesn't know himself how the story of
salvation will end. In the name of Arminius, they've embraced
something that Arminius and Calvin equally rejected. How can the
Christian have any assurance if he embraces the so-called "Open
Theism"? How can we believe that the story will end as God has
said it will? Luther affirmed in The Bondage of the Will
something I think to be central to the Bible's understanding:
"the Christian's chief and only comfort in every adversity lies
in knowing that God does not lie, but brings all things to pass
immutable, and that His will cannot be resisted, altered or
impeded."
We claim to follow "the Bible and the Bible only." The
Reformers articulated this premise in distinction to the Roman
Catholic teachings on both tradition and human reason. This
symposium convinced me that we cannot uncritically accept the
Arminian tradition, because it has much that is un-Biblical in
it--it failed to heed the Reformation warnings against the
misuse of philosophy. Let us remain Protestants--let us base our
assurance on the Bible and the Bible only. Let us rid ourselves
of the need to try to wrap our feeble minds around every
question, and respond with the humility demonstrated by Job at
the end of his ordeal (Job
42:2-6 NIV):
2 "I know that you can do all things;
no purpose of yours can be thwarted.
3 You asked, ‘Who is this that obscures my
plans without knowledge?'
Surely I spoke of things I did not understand,
things too wonderful for me to know.
4 "You said, ‘Listen now, and I will
speak;
I will question you,
and you shall answer me.'
5 My ears had heard of you
but now my eyes have seen you.
6 Therefore I despise myself
and repent in dust and ashes."
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