Navigating through Doctrinal Change: A Guide for the Perplexed, Pt. 4

Now we come to the final tip in this series. To recap, during times of doctrinal change and uncertainty our inner and social worlds may feel considerably destabilized. This uncertainty is due to the multifarious opinions on pretty much all theological matters online, in books, podcasts, webinars, and so forth. And even more personally, for me, this uncertainty is intensified because my denomination, the PAOC, is undergoing a “doctrinal refresh,” and rewriting its doctrinal articulation, its Statement of Fundamental and Essential Truths (SOFET).

The full SOFET revision in scheduled come to the General Conference floor for some sort of decision in 2020. So, approaching this event, I thought it might be helpful to process not the specific content of PAOC doctrinal beliefs, but instead how we process our beliefs in general. Understanding this will provide a framework for decision-making when it comes to doctrinal decision-making. Let me also state here that the points in this blog series are not intended to be applied only to PAOC contexts. I’m really trying to outline a helpful way for Christians of all stripes to think about their beliefs.

To this point I’ve recommended two tips in my previous blogs in this series: 1) Don’t panic (dealing with the psychological impact of challenges to our beliefs), and 2) Be humble when it comes to what we think we can know, and be ok with some level of uncertainty.

Now we come to the final tip.

Tip 3: Accept that there are Levels of Theological Truth (not all “fundamental and essential truths” are necessarily fundamental or essential for Christian faith)

Off the bat this might look like I’m challenging the title of the PAOC’s SOFET, but that’s not really my goal here (I can live with the title). The challenge is that the SOFET contains doctrines that are neither fundamental nor essential to Christian faith. This doesn’t mean these are not important doctrines (especially if one intends to hold credentials with the PAOC); it simply means that one can be a faithful Christian without believing every single one of these doctrines. Some of the doctrines are more fundamental and essential than others.

The point is this: There are levels of theological truth, and we need to accept this to function well not only in times of doctrinal refreshes and disputes, but throughout life in general, if we hope to grow in maturity in Christian faith and to avoid psychologically injuring ourselves personally and corporately by living in a state of over-protective hyper-vigilance.

Lest this seem to be my opinion alone, I’m happy that this very point was made publicly by a member of the SOFET committee during a presentation at the PAOC General Conference earlier this year (May 2018). One goal of the SOFET refresh in part is to help better focus the content on what is really fundamental and essential, giving less emphasis to what might be less central. There was no dispute raised on the floor to this idea, and so I will take this silence as tacit consent to the general point I’m making here 😊.

To appreciate this, we need to better understand how we tend to hold beliefs mentally.

A Common Belief Model: The House of Cards

One of the most helpful illustrations regarding how we tend to hold beliefs comes from Gregory Boyd’s, The Benefit of the Doubt. He proposes two models for how we hold our beliefs psychologically: a house of cards and concentric circles.

The house of cards model refers to the pastime of building a “house” using playing cards by leaning one card up against another. By progressively adding cards, an impressive structure can be erected. Provided that all the cards remain in place, one can continue to add to the structure, making it ever more complex. But the very method of construction is also the inherent weakness of this house. Every card relies on all the others for its stability. Remove one card and the entire house collapses.

Boyd says that often Christians hold their beliefs in a similar way. This is often due to what I addressed in my second tip (part 3 of this blog series), that we may have learned to take all teaching we have received from pastors and Christian leaders as absolute truth. All of it. And when we do this, we begin to feel that each of these “truths” bears equal importance. No one likely asserts this explicitly, but it becomes a psychological reality. Each “truth” functions like a card in the overall doctrinal house of cards. Each conviction is so emotionally connected to the others that each comes to bear almost equal weight. We feel it deeply because we’ve learned to do so. And when all the beliefs are in place, we feel safe within the walls of our cozy card-house fortress.

This does imply, however, that each card in our fortress needs to be protected as if our life of faith depended on it. For if even one belief is doubted, or turns out to be untrue, the entire mental structure is jeopardized, and this can easily lead to a crisis of faith.

For example, we might happen to discover, despite what our pastor perhaps strongly preached, that the evidence for a pre-tribulation rapture in Scripture is not so blatantly obvious as we supposed in contrast to other timing-of-the-rapture theories (or even more unsettling, that there might be far less scriptural evidence for a two-stage return of Jesus than assumed in dispensationalist systems!). Now, please know that this paragraph is not intended to open the door for a debate on eschatology and Left Behind novels—that’s not the point. The example above is only intended here for hypothetical illustration. The point is that if one becomes less sure about something they were told was very true, and they find out it isn’t necessarily as true (or maybe outright false), and if that doctrine was promoted as being of great importance (such that to not believe it would make your commitment to Jesus or at least the church community suspect), then this does open to door to wondering what else you were taught that doesn’t have quite the scriptural backing you thought. And this, I believe, is the place many faithful Christians are in today.

In the house of cards model, once one conviction is weakened the entire structure is threatened. When one doctrine is removed, the edifice collapses.

How the House of Cards Model Affects Us

How does this affect those holding this model, practically? I will stereotype here for convenience, but this I think the following is fairly accurate.

Personally, holding this model has the advantage of providing a feeling of assurance and confidence; at least most of the time. And this feeling feels so good. However, it also comes with potential anxiety over losing this feeling by being exposed to new information or ideas that do not fit within the card house, and so one needs to be vigilant to spot any maverick theology that might threaten the safety of the card fort. Theology in this view is often assumed to be a fixed discipline; theology is something figured out by theologians about 500 years ago or so (in Protestant traditions and their offspring). Currently, all we need to do is package theology in new ways to ensure cultural relevance. The content doesn’t (should not!) change, and so all that’s required is be reminded from time to time of what we believe (i.e., what has been resolved once and for all), and then market this content better (or not). But any revisions to theology are considered threatening in this model because they are considered a movement away from a static deposit of truth. So, personally opening oneself to, say, new scientific discoveries, or alternative Christian viewpoints on any number of matters is by default a move away from truth and toward a potential collapse of faith. Openness to knowledge from outside the doctrinal system is often considered too risky, and so one avoids listening to other than what one has been taught.

Socially, this model does connect people in strong ways, provided they all agree on pretty much everything. But this requires a hyper-vigilance among those in the particular church community. One must not only constantly evaluate oneself, but also others to determine whether they are in or out of, or poses a danger to, the house of cards. Public expression of doubts, questions, or alternative ideas is discouraged on threat social exclusion (or at least not being quite “trusted,” which removes leadership opportunities). Theologically, this model can encourage debates concerning non-essential theological matters, since there are (almost) no non-essential theological matters! Such communities are ripe breeding grounds for judgmentalism and theological witch-hunting.

Although there are positives—feeling certain and being strongly connected to like-minded others—the house of cards model is not sufficiently flexible for mature Christian faith. The world is more complex than this model allows, and it fails to acknowledge that humans can continue to grow in knowledge of God and the universe. Another model is needed.

A Better Belief Model: Boyd’s Concentric Circles

As an alternative to the house of cards, Boyd recommends a concentric circles model of beliefs. In a concentric circle, certain beliefs are more central or core than others. Outside the core are beliefs that are of secondary or tertiary importance. This does not mean that beliefs outside the core are not significant; it only means recognizing that not all beliefs are as vital as others. In this model beliefs are still connected to one another, but we ought to hold more tightly to those in the core, and less tightly to those further from the centre.

Is this idea itself biblical? I think so. For example, 1 Corinthians 15:1-3a sates,

Now, brothers and sisters, I want to remind you of the gospel I preached to you, which you received and on which you have taken your stand. ²By this gospel you are saved, if you hold firmly to the word I preached to you. Otherwise, you have believed in vain. ³For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance… (NIV)

The Apostle Paul goes on to describe “the gospel,” which serves as the ground of faith upon which Christians stand. Paul believed that some beliefs are foundational to the Christian faith, and this implies that others are not. Foundational beliefs are, then, those we can consider within the core of the concentric circle model. Not all beliefs can fit into the core, since not all serve as the ground of Christian faith.

Again, this doesn’t mean that other beliefs are not important, but not all are essential or primary in this way. It does mean, however, that we need to consciously commit ourselves to the idea that some convictions are second- or third-level convictions (or beyond). While valuable, non-core beliefs deserve to be held less tightly than others, and we need to be more cautious about allowing these to serve as criteria for Christian fellowship. A partial exception to this might be when it comes to denominational or church membership, but when it comes to accepting someone as a fellow Christian, the core beliefs are what ought to provide the criteria, and not those outside the core.

How the Concentric Circles Model Affects Us

Practically, what’s the benefit of the concentric circles model?

Personally, it helps us be less anxious when we feel less than certain about one of our beliefs, especially the non-core ones. We can incorporate questions and doubts into the overall process of maturing in our life of faith. We’ll be able to experience correction and modification of our beliefs, and ideally be open to pursuing truth wherever it might be found in God’s creation.

Socially, this model makes it easier to make room for others with different opinions. They will no longer be viewed as spiritually inferior or as a threat to the faith fortress. Instead, there will be an appreciation of diversity within Christ’s body in both beliefs and practices. And this should overall contribute to a healthier, stronger missional environment, since we will be less concerned with defending the fort, and more concerned with outreach.

The Spider’s Web: Supplementing the Concentric Circles

Now, it’s one thing to rationally adopt the concentric circles beliefs model, but quite another to live it.

John Stackhouse supplements our discussion here by likening the way we hold our beliefs to a spider’s web (I think it was here that I heard him mention this). Any touch on one strand of the spider’s web reverberates through all the others, signalling the spider that it may be lunchtime or that an enemy is near. For us (non-spiders), when a question, doubt, or unfamiliar idea begins to tug at a strand even at the peripherals of our belief web, it vibrates to the core of our psychological and spiritual being. Even if we have rationally determined that a particular doctrinal belief we hold is non-core (say, whether biological evolution is involved in God’s creation process or not), when a challenge to that belief is presented, it may very well feel like our core beliefs are being compromised.

The spider’s web analogy should encourage patience with ourselves and others as we move from a house of cards model to a concentric circle model. We may rationally decide the latter model is the better option, but it will take our brains a while to catch up emotionally. It will be a slow learning process, so be ok with that. I think God is patient with us in the process too.

What’s in the Core?

All of this, of course, raises the question of what exactly should fit into the core of our Christian beliefs. And this is probably another area where Christians will disagree! But I don’t think we are left without wisdom in this regard.

Boyd proposes that any belief that is not directly necessary for linking one into relationship with Jesus should be considered peripheral to the core. This is good and helpful, but I’d like to propose another way of identifying what’s core. For me, what belongs to the core of Christian beliefs are those without which there would be no faith to talk about.

What would those beliefs be? I think that those outlined in 1 Cor. 15 are a good start (you can find this chapter here). There Paul states that the gospel, on which believers take their stand, is the story of God’s work in and through Jesus, through whom all things will be made right. This includes, then, the following beliefs:

The triune God exists and is working salvifically in the world he created
The Bible occupies a privileged role through which God reveals his salvation plan through Jesus
Jesus is the incarnate God-man who lived, was crucified and resurrected
Jesus ascended and poured out the Spirit at Pentecost shaping church life
Jesus will return and reconcile all things to the Father forever

A similar content is found in the Apostles’ Creed. That’s what’s core to the Christian faith, since without it, there is no Christian faith to talk about. This is not a story primarily about me or us, but the story of Father, Son, and Spirit, who wants to include us in the divine story.

What would fall outside the core? A whole lot. In my view this would include matters such as how God created the universe and humans and when, whether Jesus returns in two stages or one, whether God meticulously governs the universe or allows a measure of libertarian freedom to humans and other spiritual agents, whether tithing is necessary or just a helpful spiritual practice, and so forth. Such would not be core to Christian faith, but again this does not mean that these are not important—I tend to think some of these issues are very significant for how we live out Christian life. So some of the above would be closer to the core for me, but not in the core. This also doesn’t mean that opinions on these issues are all of equal value. Some may have more biblical and theological support, and so be truer than others. It’s just that they are not core to Christian faith.

Finally, it also needs to be acknowledged that whether a non-core doctrine is still retained as a denominational credential or church membership requirement is a different matter. Denominations need to be practically allowed space to define who will be allowed in their leadership or membership, and so even secondary and tertiary beliefs may be identified as “essential,” not for being a Christian, but for holding association within a formal institution. My only caution in this regard is that denominations should probably add as few non-core doctrines as possible to their membership essentials (just like the church did in Acts 15). This will help the denomination avoid ghettoizing itself, and open it to the potential creativity and ideas of those who may have different views, backgrounds, and experiences than those traditionally embedded in the formal organization. As a Pentecostal, I happen to think that Acts 2 and 15 encourages holding less tightly to non-core matters of doctrine and community ethics for the sake of mission, and including all sorts of others so we can better bear witness to Jesus. But that’s all I’ll say about that here.

My hope for this four-part series has been that it would provide a way of navigating through doctrinal uncertainty and change. If it has helped you or if you have further questions or thoughts, please let me know by commenting below (or by sending an email). Thanks for reading!

Reflection

Have you been holding your beliefs in more of a house of cards or concentric circles model? How has this psychologically affected the way you’ve lived out your faith?
What theological truths would you place in the core, and which ones would you place outside of the core? Why? What non-core beliefs are closer to the centre for you, and why? How do you determine what belongs in the core?

Peter Neumann is available to speak at your church or other gathering about this and other theological and topics, including: emerging adults and faith, salvation, the Holy Spirit and Pentecostalism, and other questions about the Christian faith. Peter can be contacted at peter.neumann@mcs.edu.

Navigating through Doctrinal Change: A Guide for the Perplexed, Pt. 3

In the midst of an awkward but refreshing time of doctrinal reassessment in the PAOC, I thought it might be helpful to provide some tips for the journey. If you haven’t already, please read parts 1 (here) and 2 (here) first for context.

The first tip accented that challenges to our beliefs inevitably evoke some measure of anxiety. Recognizing this, a wise response is simply to accept and embrace this emotional reaction, and don’t panic. In short, don’t let anxious feelings determine our acceptance or rejection of new ideas.

Closely related is the second tip.

Tip 2: Be Open to Having Beliefs Revised (be epistemologically humble)

There’s a commonly-held assumption within conservative evangelical (and Pentecostal) church settings that leads to lot of anxiety (see my last blog). This is the idea that ALL the assertions being taught by the pastor (or itinerant evangelist, or Bible College prof) are absolutely true, since these assertions have been shown to have some sort of biblical basis. Since this teaching is connected to God’s view on the matter, any questions or doubts concerning the teachings of said preacher/teacher is equivalent to unbelief, or lack of faith in God. In short, what pastor said = God’s opinion, and therefore should not be questioned or doubted. This view may have been taught explicitly, or “caught” as part of the subcultural church atmosphere.

Comedian Mark Lowry aptly quips, concerning growing up under this type of atmosphere, “Our pastors were not always right, but they were never in doubt.”

But in case we’re tempted to think that this is an attitude of a by-gone era, I have reason to believe it’s not. I’ve had young adults confirm that this is the message they are currently receiving from denominational Christian camps, rallies, etc. Asking questions is not encouraged. What has been proclaimed from the person with the microphone is authoritative, on pretty much all things theological (and perhaps also on just about everything).

In its worst form this environment can lead to spiritual abuse (intentionally or unintentionally), but that’s a topic for another day. Here I will assume the best motivations of pastors/evangelists/teachers/leaders. The preacher wants people to be confident in their faith. And what better way than to simply assert what we believe the listeners need to believe as unchallengeable fact, and encourage them that there is now no further need to ask questions. It’s simple and easy. It avoids unnecessary nuance. But it doesn’t sufficiently appreciate how humans actually come to believe things and grow in convictions (i.e., it’s based on a poor anthropology and psychology).

So, I want to challenge the notion that because something has come to us from an authoritative voice, that this makes it absolutely true and unquestionable. Further, I want to challenge the idea that Christians should always (day in and day out) feel certain about what they believe, which is also something far too entrenched within the fundamentalist/conservative mindset. (If you don’t believe that this unfortunate attitude still exists, see this recent blog from Desiring God.)

What you’ve been taught may not be absolutely true!

Here’s the truth of the matter: what you’ve been taught (explicitly or implicitly) as absolutely true may or may not be. It’s ok to have honest doubts and questions about the Christian faith, and in fact asking questions and having doubts may be a means by which to grow in trust in and allegiance to Jesus. I realize there are online debates about this, with parties either advocating doubt as a sign of spiritual maturity or apostasy respectively (see here). But most of the time it is probably neither. It is likely simply part of the human process of learning about creation and about God. (On doubt as a potentially helpful tool towards growth in faith see Gregory Boyd’s, Benefit of the Doubt, and Daniel Taylor’s, The Skeptical Believer: Telling Stories to Your Inner Atheist.)

It took me a long time to admit and accept this. The preachers I admired in my youth spoke loudly, confidently (angrily?), shook their fist in the air, and left no room to question their assertions. And I naively assumed I should (must) accept everything these well-intentioned leaders said as absolutely true. I also assumed that I also should adopt this same approach when I preached or taught (although I never could do this quite as well as they did). How could I doubt that these folks could be offering anything less than undoubtable truth, when they seemed so confident, so certain? I wanted my faith to look like theirs. Certain—absent of any doubts.

There are, however, two issues here that challenge the idea (what some call the idol) of certainty being a primary virtue in Christian life. Accepting these will help make us more open to learning and growing in our understanding of God and how he wants us to live in his world.

Humans can’t know it all

First, humans are limited in our ability to know things. This is part of what it means to be human. It is humbling. Humans do have much to be proud of; we are, after all, noble creatures made in God’s image, and have accomplished much. But we are not God. Only God has all knowledge (omniscience), and I’ll leave it to the Calvinists and Open Theists to argue about how to define that knowledge 😊.

Humans don’t have omniscience and never will. (As John Stackhouse points out, in Need to Know, God never even promises that we’ll understand it better in the by-and-by.) Humans can be wrong about our beliefs, and we all have been. Have you ever changed your mind about something that you firmly held with conviction when you were younger? Why wouldn’t it be possible to do that again as you learn more, even about matters of the Christian faith? Humans simply do not know everything, and this also applies to matters of Christian theology and doctrine. So, we need to be modest when it comes to what we know. Accept epistemological humility. We can be mistaken about what we believe about God.

At the same time, while humans cannot know everything, we can learn and know lots of things. In fact God has called us to learn about himself and creation, and to continue to do so with the resources he’s provided (the Bible being the privileged resource in a dialogue that involves the voices of Christian tradition, arts, sciences, and experience). With God’s revelation and our cognitive abilities, he calls us to learning about himself, ourselves, and creation as part of what it means to bear his image. This means that theology is not a static deposit of propositions about God, but is a dynamic and growing endeavour. It may very well be the case that failure to learn and grow in knowledge—about God and the world—may even be a matter of disobedience to God’s call on humans beings to bear his image in this world (see Stackhouse). So, accept our cognitive limitations, and be open to continual learning—including correcting what we discover along the way to have been false beliefs.

But, this acknowledgement means we won’t always feel certain. And here we need to introduce another important distinction concerning certainty.

Being certain doesn’t mean you’re right

The second issue that challenges certainty as a virtue in Christian life is that certainty is a psychological disposition, not a quality that determines what we believe is true or not. Certainty is a state of mind in which we are firmly settled in our convictions and way of seeing things. As I’m using the term here, certainty refers to the belief that our convictions are so assured that we deem it unnecessary to be open to alternative possibilities being true. But again, the feeling or attitude of certainty is not necessarily connected to whether our beliefs are true or not. I can feel absolutely certain about something, and be absolutely wrong. And in case you think I’m sounding too relativistic or “progressive” here (sometimes used as a default blanket term to dismiss anything not traditionally American evangelical), William Lane Craig argues the same thing in a recent podcast (here).

This is why it is simply a mistake, and a potentially damaging spiritually and psychologically, to encourage people to make this form of certainty a spiritual goal, as if it were equivalent to faith, and what God is expecting of Christians. It is not.

Because certainty it is a psychological state, it is pretty much impossible to maintain it at all times. Our levels of certainty about our beliefs will ebb and flow depending on mood and circumstances. At times Christians will feel unshakable confidence about particular doctrines of the Christian faith. Singing our favourite song about God’s love while in an inspiring celebration service may evoke deep assurance that we are indeed loved by God. But the next day, when faced with difficult challenges, our feeling of certainty is not quite as strong. Have we lost our faith? No. What we’re experiencing is the ebb and flow of our emotional state. What we should do is grow in our trust in God and accept that the diminishing feelings of certainty are not the foundation of our relationship to God. Demanding certainty as a virtue will ultimately lead to failure to live up to this ideal, and lead to discouragement, and possibly unnecessary guilt and shame.

Convictions and personalities

It is, of course, good to hold convictions. There is good reason for being convinced of the truth of the Christian faith. And Christians need to be people of courage and conviction (especially in a time in culture where it seems at times that everything is up for grabs). But conviction, as I’m using it here, does not entail the idea of having arrived at absolute certainty, and so means not closing oneself off to possible revision of one’s ideas based on new information or new perspective. Conviction grows based on trust and learning over time. Conviction is what preachers and teachers should encourage; but growing in conviction usually means having permission to ask questions and carry doubts for a time. It may even mean simply allowing oneself to say, “I’m not sure” about matter X, while feeling more sure about matter Y. So, conviction, yes; certainty, no.

I also suspect that certainty is often related to personality, perhaps more so than it is to truth. Some people are simply very confident in their opinions; they feel and display certainty concerning—just about everything! Sometimes that is what preachers believe they must portray in public. But I think we need to be careful about making this a model, especially since it will immediately alienate those whose personalities don’t share this ubiquitous confidence.

In my experience, the portrayal of certainty as a model of virtue and faith has short-term benefit. People love an easy and simple answer to the complexities of life, and certainty is catchy—it will temporarily elevate others’ psychological disposition of confidence. But certainty as a virtue often produces long-term problems, including the above-mentioned discouragement, and even possibly loss of faith when it is discovered that the preacher was not correct about some matter on which certainty was claimed. Certainty doesn’t allow for people to ask questions, or to hold different opinions; and it does not allow even God to teach us new things about himself. Any new idea or perspective will be viewed as deviation from what is “absolutely true” and certain, and so as a threat.

Pentecostals and openness to new revelation

For those in the Pentecostal tradition, embracing certainty as described above runs contrary to what early Pentecostals believed. These folks assumed that the Spirit continued to speak and reveal new things about God (of course not in contradiction to Scripture). One could, ideally, speak with conviction by the Spirit, while being open to revision, should God choose to correct our understanding (through Scripture, a direct message from the Spirit, or even through study of science and history).

In contrast to this early Pentecostal disposition, demanding certainty tends to shut down even the possibility that the convictions we hold (or that a preacher wants us to hold) could be wrong or could require revision. Again, certainty is not a quality of the beliefs we hold (it does not tell us whether what we believe is true or not)—it is simply a mental disposition associated with what we believe. The reality is that certainty can just as easily make us closed to God’s truth as it can help us stand up for God’s truth. Certainty cannot be the sole criterion on which we evaluate our faith and spirituality.

Doctrinal drift or doctrinal correction?

I’ve meandered a bit here, but let me bring this back to apply to the PAOC’s SOFET refresh. In the midst of doctrinal revision, we need not assume certainty about held doctrines as a primary virtue to which we must hold. God is still in the business of helping his people learn new things—about creation, and even about God and the Bible. I say this because it is sometimes supposed that any deviance from what was previously accepted as “absolutely true” in a doctrinal statement must be a movement away from

boat on calm body of water — Photo by thiago japyassu on Pexels.com

God’s truth; it is viewed as “doctrinal drift.” But this is not necessarily the case, and assumes that doctrine is something that exists as a timeless and unchangeable body of knowledge. That’s not quite how doctrine works, and we need to be more patient about assuming “drift” before we’ve had time to examine the issues. Movement away from some held doctrines may be a move toward more, not less, truth as far as God is concerned. We may also need to recognize that some doctrines are more central to our faith than others, and hold the latter more lightly (I’ll discuss this more in part 4).

This maybe difficult to accept. After all, we were taught by pastors and teachers we loved and admired. And when they taught they often did so with a passion that conveyed (intended or not) that they were passing on absolute truth about all (or at least most) matters. So, if it was good enough for that Bible College prof decades ago, it should be good enough for all PAOC credential holders forever (I’ve really had someone say this to me)! But who is to say that our teachers of the past may not have changed their minds on issues? Would it surprise us if they did? And our teachers were also fallible people like us, who could simply be wrong about some things. Would it surprise us if they were?

Would it surprise us that the PAOC has changed its doctrinal statement a number of times in its history? And according to my friend Andrew Gabriel (see his site here), the only statement we’ve never revised is the one on tithing (we don’t want to even explore the possibility we might have got that one wrong 😊).

My point here is simply that we need to be less rigid and more humble about what we think we know, especially about theological matters. We need to be open to learn new things—about God, the universe and everything. After all, only God can claim omniscience.

Certainty not required

In sum, not every teaching we’ve received in church is “absolute truth.” It’s ok, and even intellectually necessary to have doubts and ask questions, and even to change our minds about things we once felt certain about. Let’s be humble and open to admitting that we don’t know it all and have much to learn. This doesn’t mean we can’t hold convictions or stand up for truth. But we are not required to avoid uncertainty (nor are we able to).

As we grow in our faith, we’ll probably find that we become more convinced about some beliefs, and less certain of others. But the process is not easy or simple. Dallas Willard describes (see source here) what we must do (I’m paraphrasing here, but I think this is almost verbatim):

Believe your beliefs, and doubt your doubts. Believe your doubts, and doubt your beliefs.

In other words, be open to re-examining what you believe, and let convictions develop slowly. There’s always room for revision and growth.

Reflection

Have you been in a church setting where certainty was portrayed as a virtue? How did this affect your growth in faith?

Navigating through Doctrinal Change: A Guide for the Perplexed, Pt. 2

Part 1 of this blog series identified the motivation for addressing this subject. My denomination, the PAOC, has undertaken a “refreshing” of its Statement of Fundamental and Essential Truths (SOFET). I believe this is a positive and needed step, and it is not the first time the PAOC has revamped its faith statement. Nevertheless, revising doctrines introduces some level of discomfort.

From my conversations, a number of PAOC credential holders are asking good questions about how to teach in the midst of such doctrinal modification. In this second and subsequent posts, I want to offer some suggestions for navigating doctrinal refreshing and possibly evolution (I almost didn’t use that word to avoid triggering another debate, but I’m feeling bold :-)). Note that I’m not here recommending WHAT to believe, but HOW to manage a transitional “between time” time doctrinally. Let’s get started!

TIP 1: Don’t Panic! (Even if you really want to—and you might really want to!)

This first piece of advice is blatantly pinched from Douglas Adam’s, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy book series. But it’s an important tip and a good place to start.

In Adam’s sci-fi spoof trilogy (comprised of five books :-)) travellers of the galaxy are encouraged to carry a computerised book, The Hitchiker’s Guide, which contains all the information one might ever need on just about everything. When powered on, the first words appearing on the screen read, “Don’t Panic!” Because panicking is easy to do when venturing into unfamiliar and possibly perilous territory.

So too is panic a very real option in our present theological reality. Just as we feel a bit (or a lot) uneasy when journeying away from home because of the unfamiliar sights and sounds, our present location doctrinally feels not quite like home. Not quite safe. We may even describe our feelings as apprehensive or anxious. The good news is that this is quite normal, so no need to panic.

Feeling anxious amidst uncertainty is normal

It’s not unusual to feel some level of anxiety in the midst of uncertainty of any sort. Our brains, psychologists tell us, love certainty. It makes us feel safe and secure, at peace. So, we do not tend to enjoy having our beliefs challenged. We like the feeling of assurance that comes from believing that we understand well the reality in which we live. This gives us a sense of control. If there are no unknowns threatening to surprise us, we feel safer.

To guard our certainty, we often surround ourselves with people who tend to think like us. These folks reaffirm our convictions, and this reinforces our assurance that we are right and safe. We may even avoid exposure to information or questions that would challenge our beliefs. Doing so might make us feel less certain, less secure, less in control, and trigger anxious feelings, perhaps even anger. This is a normal response to perceived potential danger.

Confirmation bias

One consequence of our desire for certainty is that we all have a confirmation bias that affects our receptivity to information (whether it be true or false). We tend to seek out, and hear mostly loudly what confirms our current convictions. We have a harder time receiving what challenges our beliefs. This is true for everyone, from Christian to atheist.

Shahram Heshmat, in Psychology Today, describes confirmation bias:

“Once we have formed a view, we embrace information that confirms that view while ignoring, or rejecting, information that casts doubt on it. Confirmation bias suggests that we don’t perceive circumstances objectively. We pick out those bits of data that make us feel good because they confirm our prejudices. Thus, we may become prisoners of our assumptions.” (Link here)

This doesn’t mean that we are stuck in an echo chamber, only ever hearing our own

beliefs, and forever cut off from learning the truth about reality. We can learn new things, test our beliefs, and perhaps at times realize we’ve been quite wrong and change our minds. But this process usually involves some measure of discomfort and willingness to learn.

The deeper the uncertainty, the higher the anxiety

Now, we don’t typically feel overly troubled when it comes to trivial matters about which we might be mistaken. We usually receive this new information and make a correction. (E.g., I really believed I had sent that email, but it turns out I didn’t. I’d better send it now.) But when faced with new ideas, theories, or interpretations that suggest we might be mistaken about deeper, more foundational, long-held matters of life and faith, the incongruity between our current convictions and the alternative possibilities often triggers apprehension. The world no longer feels as safe as it did only a moment ago.

This is why Christians (often young adults) are sometimes caught off guard and sent into emotional crisis when they first begin to face questions about the veracity of their faith. (Are you really sure that God exists? Really? Really? Shivers!!!) And anxiety is only heightened if they’ve been taught that they should feel certain all the time about all their faith convictions (more on this in a future post).

This is also why it should be no surprise that “refreshing” a doctrinal statement might trigger apprehension (maybe even anger) in and among credential holders young and old. (This may even be felt more acutely by the latter, since they have a lot more invested in the long-held beliefs.) The stakes are raised even higher when it comes to beliefs that are more intricately linked to institutional identity—doctrines and policies that distinguish one denomination from another. (If we alter those doctrines/policies, then who are we? How are we different than other denominations or traditions?) The closer a challenge is perceived to pose a threat to what we consider a principal identity marker, the louder and shriller the anxiety alarm sounds, personally and corporately.

Deflating panic

So, what are we to do to avoid panic? Here are some suggestions.

1) Acknowledge feelings of uneasiness, doubt, anxiety, or anger concerning doctrinal uncertainty. Denying or suppressing these emotions will not help, and will only escalate the feelings. Knowing that uncertainty evokes these (sometimes powerful) emotions, and that it’s normal to feel such unpleasant emotions can help ease the discomfort. It’s not a sin to not feel certain all the time.

2) Know that feeling anxious, uneasy, or threatened doesn’t necessarily mean that our current beliefs are right and in need of defence. (Neither does it mean that the unfamiliar ideas confronting us are correct.) It simply means that something is challenging our current view of reality. Anxiety is not the arbiter of truth, and in fact it’s almost always a bad idea to make decisions—especially doctrinal and theological decisions—in response to anxiety. Acknowledge the possibility that one reason we may resist new ideas is for the simple reason that they are unfamiliar and make us feel uneasy. But again, feeling uneasy about doctrinal refreshing doesn’t mean that we are wrong or right in our current views; it simply means our views are being challenged. We need to then take more intentional steps to determine the merit of these ideas that challenge our current views.

3) Give yourself and others (and your denomination) appropriate time and space to process convictions. One temptation is to immediately push back against any proposal of doctrinal change, another is to rush to accept the latest ideas without taking time to investigate, reflect, and to think through the implications. In either case, it’s unwise to attempt to resolve theological and doctrinal matters too quickly. There are usually good reasons why denominations affirm their current doctrines and policies (not always, but usually). Resist the urge to speed things along recklessly. Learn patience with yourself and others—whether you are the type who resists change or embraces it easily. Deciding to adopt or decline new ideas takes time. Be patient with others, bearing in mind that times of uncertainty can make us apprehensive and reactive.

4) Denominational institutions need to provide space for credential holders to process new information and ideas. And credential holders need to be allowed to do this not alone, but with others, and without fear of immediate reprimand (real or perceived) for questioning or discussing long-held beliefs. This point simply builds on the previous ones. It’s a matter of spiritual and psychological well-being to be able to honestly admit one’s doubt and uncertainty to oneself. It’s also important not to process such emotionally-charged challenges alone. It’s healthy for us to be able to talk through our questions in a safe space with others who are equally invested in the outcome. Without opportunities to process our beliefs honestly with others, how would God ever help a group of people know if they were wrong so he could lead them into a more accurate understanding of himself and reality?

So, first tip, don’t panic! Second tip coming soon…

Reflections

How do you feel when faced with uncertainty concerning your theological beliefs? Are you comfortable in exploring new ideas, or do you tend to avoid views that challenge your own? Why?
How do you process your uncertainty when it comes to doctrinal beliefs (denial, panic, reflection, excitement, etc.)?
What opportunities do you have to share your doubts and uncertainties with others?
What questions do you presently have about your theological beliefs that you are finding challenging?

Weary of Singing about Ourselves: Recovering the Neglected Dimension of Worship, Part 3

I’ve been arguing that we sing too much about ourselves in worship and not enough about God. Worship, instead, needs to be viewed as formational and as such should be more thoughtful and in general be structured around the story of God.

But a possible objection here might be that this approach sounds overly cerebral or maybe even too pragmatic. Isn’t an approach that makes worship serve the goal of Christian formation (discipleship) simply making worship a means to an end? And how would this possibly fit into a Pentecostal approach to worship?

Well, what is a Pentecostal approach to worship? Pentecostals have always had a subjective, experiential leaning in their spirituality and worship. From early on (although not so much lately) Pentecostals emphasized personal testimonies as a means by which to pass on their faith. Do we need to give up this rather subjective component of worship? I don’t think so.

Jean-Jacques Suurmond in Word and Spirit at Play, argued that Pentecostals (and charismatics) approach worship as “play.” Worship is not a means to an end, but an encounter with God. But as “play” (or a game) it is built around both rules and structure (Word) and spontaneity (Spirit). Pentecostals have emphasized the spontaneous aspect of worship, but their worship has never really been “unstructured.” (See Daniel Albrecht’s Rites in the Spirit on this.) For Pentecostal worship to work, it always had to have had a basic framework in which the spontaneous elements were able to be exercised. I’m suggesting that singing about God can help provide the structure in which the subjective aspects of worship (and song) can then be celebrated.

So, I am calling Pentecostals to be more intentional about making worship be more God-centred so that we can be formed into better disciples. I’m not calling for a removal of the holistic, physical, celebratory approach that characterizes Pentecostal worship. And certainly worship must be viewed as being an encounter with God. But for worship to be encounter with God it must be about God.

Let’s put it this way. The call here is not to move from non-formational worship to formational worship. All worship is already formational. The songs we sing, the prayers we pray, spontaneous or not, already are forming us in some way. Worship cannot help but be formational to some extent. And so, the call here is simply to recognize it as such. Once we acknowledge this, we will hopefully take more care to make sure it is helping to form us to be what we think it is that Jesus wants us to be/come. And I don’t think this can happen with the current glut of subjective-focussed songs.

One more implication. If what I’m saying is right, I think this will have some practical repercussions not only for what we sing, but also concerning who we place in charge of leading our congregations in worship and singing. If worship is about encounter with God that forms us into the people God desires us to be, and this is to be shaped by a focus on God’s story, then those who lead us must be people familiar with God’s story in a deep and profound way. Further, those who lead worship must know how to lead people into worship that has God as the subject matter.

Worship is such an important component in Christian formation that musical giftings just might not be the first quality that is needed in a worship leader. Worship leaders first of all need to have a good grasp on Scripture and the Christian tradition. Musical abilities are important, to be sure. But the task of leading people into God-centred worship entails not primarily musical skills, but theological and pastoral skills. So, all worship leaders must continually be growing in their knowledge of the story of God and how to translate this into meaningful words and actions for the people of God with the dual goals of encounter with God and Christian formation always in view.

Let’s move toward making God, not ourselves, the centre—the subject matter—of our worship.

Weary of Singing about Ourselves: Recovering the Neglected Dimension of Worship, Part 2

Admittedly, more than a little time has passed since my last blog.

But let’s think of this blog hiatus not so much as a matter of my being negligent, but more so of a long dramatic pause, in which anticipation has been building. Sort of like the year-long interlude between installments of The Hobbit or Hunger Game movies.

This interruption raises some issues of continuity, of course, particularly because this instalment is a second part of a previous blog on worship. So it might be worth re-reading the first part. But without further ado, let’s get to it.

My contention to this point is that in Pentecostal (and broader popular evangelical) worship the subjective dimensions have been emphasized to the detriment of the objective. I’ve demonstrated what I mean by the “subjective” in my previous blog, namely having ourselves (humans) as the subject matter of our songs and prayers. Now I need to explain what I mean by “objective” and why it’s so crucial. Both aspects are necessary for properly formational worship, of course, but I think the objective dimension deserves priority.

By the objective dimension I am referring to God’s story being the focus, the subject matter, of our songs. This is the story we find in the Bible, and the story into which we find ourselves invited.

Subjectively-oriented worship songs highlight our personal relationship with God, through Christ by the Spirit, as an element of being included in God’s story. But this subjective dimension needs to be framed by God’s story lest we get the impression that all that matters is my personal relationship with God (and, more narrowly, the state of my internal psychological dispositions in that relationship). God’s story, the objective dimension of worship, is what gives meaning to the subjective dimension.

A focus on the objective dimension of worship means giving ample attention to God and his story. God’s story is found in Scripture. The Bible tells his story—his desires for humanity and creation, his plan, through Jesus, to redeem what has been broken and lost. The Bible does not simply make abstract statements about God (e.g., God is love), but places these in the context of a story that demonstrates the actions of God as, say, loving. What this means is that we don’t really know God unless we know his story. His story reveals his identity. Abstract concepts do not.

This implies that it is necessary but not sufficient simply to have the name “God,” “Father,” “Jesus,” or “Holy Spirit” in our songs. The subject matter of what we sing must not simply make offhand reference the proper names of God, but must actually revolve around God and his story. So, we need to ask ourselves about the subject matter of our songs. Is the song primarily about us or about God and his story? If the songs we sing in worship do not actually reiterate the story of God, then those singing will simply provide the content (from our imaginations) of what these names, or other abstract concepts, mean.

(So, it might not be a bad exercise to do a longer-term review of the songs regularly sung in our churches. In the past three months what has been the primary subject matter of our songs? God and his story, or us?)

The above may seem to be a fairly abstract way of talking about worship. But here’s what it practically implies for what we do when we gather together. In large part corporate worship is to be a reiteration or re-telling of the story of this God and his actions in history, with special attention given to the story of Jesus, through whom God’s redemptive plan is worked out. It is this that actually shapes the people of God to be what God wants them to be.

Assumed in what I’m saying here is a philosophical commitment that needs to be made explicit: I believe that worship needs to serve the ultimate purposes of discipleship and Christian formation. Worship ultimately serves discipleship. So, if worship is deficient, so too will be the discipleship of those regularly participating in that worship.

Here I’m not saying anything new. The church has always said that the “rule of prayer is the rule of faith.” In other words, the way we worship is what we believe; or, the way we worship shapes what we believe and who we are. But this means our worship needs to be theologically thoughtful and practically intentional—far more so than it often is. A couple good resources on this are the late Robert Webber’s, Ancient-Future Worship, and from a more pentecostal angle (note the small “p”), Glenn Packiam’s Re-Forming Worship.

Worship, then, is to serve to regularly retell and even re-enact the story of God, so that we are again and again (and again) reminded of the God with whom we have to do. Only in this way will our individual lives as followers of Jesus be properly given context. We will be drawn into a story that is much bigger than our own lives, and a story that in fact gives our lives meaning. In short, worship will help form us into the people—corporately and individually—that God intends us to be.

And this can only happen if the primary subject matter of our worship is God.

This view might well raise some objections and questions—particularly from Pentecostals, who might object that this view sounds too cerebral. I promise that’s not what I’m suggesting. But we will need to wait to address such concerns until the next installment, which I promise (pinky-swear) will not be long in coming.

Weary of Singing about Ourselves: Recovering the Neglected Dimension of Worship, Part 1

I believe in worship. It is crucial to the Christian faith, and for the formation of both congregation and individual believer. What Christians do in worship tends to shape attitudes, beliefs and behaviour, perhaps even more so that listening to teaching or a sermon. So, worship is important. It’s so important that we should ask, from time to time, whether our worship is forming us into what God would want us to be(come). I’ve been asking myself that question. Here’s what I’ve concluded.

I believe a great deal of worship today is overly focused on us, and because of this it contributes to deficiencies in Christian formation.

Let me explain.

First, what do I mean by “worship”? I’m aware that in recent years there’s rightly been emphasis on “worship” being what Christians do (are supposed to do) in all of life. This is intended to deliver us from the notion that attention on God is something that only happens during church services, whereas in reality our whole life matters to God. I get it, and believe it. But here I’m addressing “worship” in its more narrow sense—the times Christians gather corporately to proclaim the worthiness of God through song, prayer, Scripture reading, and so forth. Even more narrowly, I have singing in view, since that has always been one of the favoured worship expressions in the church, especially within Pentecostalism.

Second, to narrow things still further, I’m primarily speaking to Pentecostals here. That is the tradition to which I belong, and overwhelmingly my church-going experience has been in Pentecostal churches. It’s familiar turf for me, and so I’m more confident in speaking to this subtradition. At the same time, evangelicals can probably be included here, since Pentecostalism has increasingly influenced the broader evangelical spectrum. (See here.) So, my thoughts likely apply to a wider Christian audience.

But enough of these preliminaries.

My belief, again, is this: our worship (singing) is, at times, excessively focussed on the ones doing the singing. Put another way, I mean that at all too frequently the subject matter of our songs proclaims our human story(ies), while too often neglecting the story of the one for whom we have gathered to worship, namely, God.

The songs I have in mind here are ones that emphasize our experience with God (usually personal, less often corporate—another issue I’ll take up another time). The lyrics frequently highlight our internal psychological state (i.e., how I feel about God, or my relationship with God, or even how I feel about how I’m feeling). With rare exception such songs are generally celebratory (not lamentations—how did those ever get into the Bible?!), emphasizing everything from personal life transformation to intimate ecstatic or even romantic moments with God. In short, these songs are often highly personal, internal, and emotion-focused. The content is primarily a reflection on one’s personal journey, and/or internal psychological states with regard to relationship with God. The subject matter of these songs is about us.

Now, human stories do provide an important element in worship—let’s call this the subjective dimension of worship. When we sing about our life of faith, our feelings about God and so forth, these are important expressions. Pentecostals have reminded the church globally that it’s right to celebrate God, and even testify concerning our experiences with God.

Pentecostals have always believed that spirituality involves more than the mind—the body and emotions also matter. And so worship involves not only mind, but also how we feel, and our physical gestures (hands raised, shouts, dance, tears, etc.). It is this physicality that has bled over into evangelicalism. Observe worship in many evangelical churches and services today, and you’ll notice people raising hands, moving their bodies, and proclaiming praises aloud. Such things are evidence of the Pentecostalization of evangelicalism.

Pentecostalism, in the early days at least, also prided itself on telling and hearing personal testimonies of how God was working in the lives of believers—bringing healing, conversions of a prodigal loved one, and fresh baptisms of the Spirit. In doing God became not simply a point of doctrine for many believers, but a living reality. God was one who was involved in all of human life, interrupting the course of things to transform and touch hearts, or to bring inspiration and healing. So, it only made sense to testify, robustly, about such experiences in word and song.

And all this is good—so far as it goes.

But testimonies, in word or song, especially once they become focussed on internal psychological dispositions, can lose their location in the broader and more important story for Christian formation: God’s story. Let’s call God’s story the objective dimension of our faith and worship. It is this dimension that I fear is largely being neglected to our long-term spiritual detriment.

I’m not sure of all the reasons, but we sometimes tend to believe that the best worship is that which expresses our personal feelings. Again, I’m not against expressing emotions in worship. After all, why wouldn’t we? And of course God wants us to be sincere in worship. But let’s not confuse heartfelt sincerity with worship that is in “spirit and truth,” as Jesus says (Jn. 4:24).

Let’s face it, sometimes worship songs can even become downright sappy. In my more cynical moments I’ve wondered if certain songs have been composed by a group of 16-year-old girls who have just watched the entire Twilight movie series in one sitting, replacing the name of some dreamy vampire with “Jesus” (if Jesus’ name appears at all—usually it’s just a pronoun: “he” or “you”).

Okay, enough cynicism. But let me provide one ironic illustration of how, even with our best intentions to focus on God, we still end up singing about ourselves: Matt Redmond’s 1999 song, “Heart of Worship.”

Yes, I’m aware of the background story to the composition of the song (see here: http://www.crosswalk.com/church/worship/song-story-matt-redmans-the-heart-of-worship-1253122.html). My point is not to dismiss the song. I think it’s a beautiful and meaningful song, and a testimonial of what God did in one situation, and quite likely needs to do in all our lives from time to time.

My point is that the song is ironic. A friend pointed this out to me a few years ago. Look at some of the lyrics.

When the music fades
And all is stripped away
And I simply come
Longing just to bring
Something that’s of worth
That will bless your heart

I’ll bring You more than a song
For a song in itself
Is not what You have required
You search much deeper within
Through the ways things appear
You’re looking into my heart

I’m coming back to the heart of worship
And it’s all about You
All about You, Jesus
I’m sorry Lord for the thing I’ve made it
When it’s all about You
It’s all about You Jesus

The “heart of worship” is Jesus, according to the song. But the song is not about Jesus. The song is about a personal existential journey, away from being mesmerized by human performance to attention on the one for whom the music is being played. It’s a story about Matt Redmond, and based on how well the song caught on, a song about many, many of us. But the subject matter of the song is, overwhelmingly, not about Jesus, the heart of worship.

We are, I think, so used to the subjective dimension of worship—singing and hearing songs about our experience of God—that we simply might not realize we are sometimes neglectful of the objective dimension of worship. We are missing singing and hearing about God’s story. And it is detrimental to our spiritual formation, and the Christian faith.

That’s all for now (this is far too long as it is). I’ll say more about why I think this objective dimension is important in part 2 of this topic.

Is your (view of the) church too small, Pt. 3

Alright, time to wrap up my thoughts on John Armstrong’s, Your Church Is Too Small. You’ll need to read my earlier posts for some background. But in short, this is a book challenging Christians, particularly evangelicals, to expand their view of God’s church in a way that includes the visible global and historical church.

One practical implication of Armstrong’s argument is that it will mean paying more attention to church history, especially in the first few centuries—the broad Christian “tradition.” Yikes! “Tradition”!

If you’re still reading, “tradition” is not a dirty word for Armstrong, and is something that needs to be rediscovered. In fact, tradition(s) exist in subcultural forms in all ecclesial expressions. Following the broad tradition means majoring on the major teachings of the historical church, and recognizing that particular doctrinal distinctives, while valuable, are peripheral to the larger mission of God’s kingdom. Here Armstrong acknowledges Robert E. Webber’s “ancient-future” approach as having potential for pointing the church in the right direction.

The church needs to better appreciate that the Spirit has been at work in and through history. This means the Christian connection with the Spirit is also connected with the global, historical church. At the same time the church today needs to recognize that history and culture has changed dramatically in recent centuries. We no longer function in a “Christendom” context, and need to give up the idea that our culture (he’s primarily speaking to North Americans here) functions on certain Christian assumptions from earlier times.

Recognizing a connection to church history, while at the same time that our current historical situation has changed, allows Armstrong to challenge both “seeker driven” and “traditionalist” churches. For him, only a “missional-ecumenism” that appreciates the rich resources of the ancient church will provide a robust way forward. Armstrong states:

“Many churches have adapted to the culture in a way that has left them with little or no prophetic message. They have embraced a paradigm designed by Christendom and aimed at consumers—a paradigm that has left them with a shallow understanding of the gospel. Some who fervently believe in the need to remain faithful to the gospel have reacted to all the changes by accusing fellow Christian evangelists of being compromisers. Neither strategy is effective. We need a new paradigm, a model for mission that is rooted in the dynamic of antiquity and the dynamic prospects of a different future.” (ch. 19)

Armstrong’s message is both challenging and encouraging. It is also arguably more faithful to the biblical and theological tradition of the church catholic (universal). He is also not unaware of the need for the “rubber to meet the road,” so to speak. So, he provides examples of a number of churches that are living out this missional-ecumenical approach to serve as practical examples that may be helpful for local church philosophy of mission discussions. Overall, in the midst of rapid cultural transition this book offers a theologically robust alternative to the sometimes overly pragmatic cacophony of voices on church mission and growth techniques. I recommend it.

Welcome to Pneumanntology

I’ve been thinking about blogging for a while. Not uncommon, right? Anyway, as per the blog description, this is a place where you’ll find theological musings and reviews, sometimes with a Pentecostal slant. What I’m reading or hearing discussed in the classroom setting as I teach will provide most of the fodder for what appears here. And I’m open to suggestions for topics. That’s enough intro. On to the meatier topics…